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I Want Someone Who'll Play A Game On Me

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Jason pulls the thick curtain between the stage and the back room away, just enough to chance a look outside. It's full house out there, all sold out. Twenty men. The room is about double the size of an average living room, one third stage and two thirds dancefloor, but there's a different kind of performance scheduled for today. They're all here for a different party. Tonight's entertainment – Dick, in this case – can't just be watched from afar. It can get fucked, sucked, shoved around. This is one of the better clubs around town, and in the regular day-to-day shows they have a strict rule; touching is forbidden. But this isn't a regular show. This is a private event, and the goalposts for those depend on the individual guy working that night. They set the limit, what goes and what doesn't. And Dick doesn't have a whole lot of limits.

“Jay,” comes Dick’s voice from behind him, and Jason lets the curtain fall closed, turns around.

Dick beams at him, naked and covered in oil and glitter – edible, because people are going to put their mouths on him tonight – and he's radiating excitement. Jason doesn't understand that, not really, but he can respect it. Not his call to make, anyway. They have an understanding.

“Come here,” he says, voice gentle.

With a nod, Dick steps into his arms, face pressed against Jason's collar bone, and Jason rubs a hand up and down his back, lets him stay like that for as long as he needs. It's maybe a minute before he sighs, straightens up, and searches for Jason's gaze. He looks down to his crotch, his half-hard cock, and smirks.

Jason pulls him in for a kiss, deep and filthy, and gets a finger-gloved hand between their bodies. He strokes Dick to full hardness with practiced ease, familiar with his body and the way he likes to be touched, and stops when he feels the first trickles of pre-come slick up the slide of his hand around him.

"I love you very much,” he says, and smiles; the latter not because he wants to, but because he knows Dick needs it. The former, however, is always true. “Don't forget that."

“Never,” Dick says, giving him one last peck to the lips, and glances around the room for his... well, show costume would be overstating it, it's just a pair of flimsy light-blue hot pants.

Jason knows that's his cue to leave him to the rest of his preparations, and he walks through the narrow hallway behind the scenes to get to his place outside on the dancefloor. After surveying the crowd, he settles in a corner near the stage where he's not immediately visible, out of range of the cameras too, but also close enough to step in immediately should the need arise. It's a fresh group, for the most part, not a lot of familiar faces. That's a preference too; Dick likes them inexperienced, likes to guide and goad them, and he can't do that with people who visit a show like that every weekend and know what they want. The surprise on their faces, the fact that they're surprised, baffled, by how far they're willing to go, that's part of what gets Dick off during these nights. And he can pick and choose at this point, most nights – he only does these events every three to six months, and he's popular.

The music starts, dance tunes but the kind that's played on low volume, sensual and unobtrusive, and any random small talk in the room dies down on the spot. Everyone is still dressed, some nursing drinks or having smalltalk. Up until now, it could have been anything from a family anniversary to a the social call of a random conference, but the air in the room changes when Dick steps onto the stage. He's still only wearing those blue hot pants. They'll be gone within minutes. Watching him undress is not the main event tonight, it's merely a prelude.

He walks onto a dark stage, the spotlight following him around. The slight sheen of oil makes his body shine, the dim light catches the glitter on his body and makes some of them sparkle, and he's smiling wide with anticipation. The fabric of his hot pants shows the unmistakeable, clearly visible outline of his erection. He waits until he's got everyone's attention, all eyes on him, just the way he likes it, and then he gives a small wave to the personnel behind the stage.

The whole stage gets bathed in warm light, revealing a sex swing, a couch, and three padded tables of different heights. There are no toys tonight; one or two of the other guys do that, offer flogging or restraints or elaborate toys, but that is where Dick draws the line. The people in this room have paid for the privilege of two hours to do whatever they like to him with their bare hands, their cocks and mouths, and that's it. That's the only limit.

A few gasps go through the crowd at seeing the setup, and for a few newcomers this is probably when it hits home that they are, indeed, here to either get their own dicks wet or watch someone get ravaged in front of them. Others had no such compunctions to begin with and are they're already dropping their pants, wanking it off to the mere sight of the man who's here to provide their entertainment tonight, and those are the ones Jason will keep a close eye on. He feels the hot curl of jealousy, of possessiveness, of pure disdain for the people who dare use his boyfriend like that – a nameless body to fuck. Even though it's technically within their rights and exactly what they've dropped no small amount of money for.

Jason looks back to the stage, where Dick is surveying the crowd with a pleased grin and clears his throat, nods his head to a stripper pole at the edge of the stage.

“Anyone want to get this party started?” he asks, and predictably, a whole bunch of hands fly up. Dick takes his sweet time picking, eventually points at a young man who looks like he's fresh out of uni, if that, and beckons him closer with crooked finger. “You. What's your name?”

The kid looks about ready to spill in his pants already, and Jason suspects that's why Dick picked him. “Adam,” he says, voice trembling, nervous. “I'm Adam.”

Dick smiles at him, inviting, calming. “Come on up, Adam.”

After a moment's hesitation and a few encouraging back pats from three or four guys around him who Jason assumes are his friends, Adam does as he is told, and Dick leads him towards the pole, makes him kneel down behind it. Then he turns to the crowd, winks, hooks his fingers into the waistband of the hot pants on each side, and pulls them down. He bends to step out of them, exposing his hard cock, still – or again – pearling pre-come at the tip, and his smooth, clean-shaven crotch. He gives himself one or two tugs, and then looks at Adam expectantly.

“You can touch,” he reminds Adam, and it appears Adam is experiencing a full system crash, because all he does is stare.

To keep the show going, Dick wraps around the pole and moves up and down, leg curled around it, hard cock bobbing up and down inches from Adam's face. That sight seems to finally wake Adam up – he sends a glance to the audience, where is friends are, and Jason follows his line of sight to find them whooping and cheering. Encouraged as such, Adam chases Dick's cock with his mouth and Dick, once he notices, swings closer to him, close enough that Adam can catch it. He gets his mouth around the head and sucks, licks along the underside, and Dick groans, a little louder than Jason knows would be realistic. He moves up and down again, repeating the game a few times, before he stills, one hand on the pole, the other holding his cock downwards so Adam can suck him down for real. Jason watches him close his eyes and swivel his hips, making a show of his enjoyment. Adam, meanwhile, has one hand down his pants and is jerking himself off as he he licks Dick up and down, coming back to suckle at just the head time and time again, and Jason can see it when Dick reins himself in and steps away from the pole.

He bends down and tips Adam's chin up with two fingers, kisses him once, likely to taste himself on the stranger's tongue, and then he pats Adam's shoulder and points back to his spot in the crowd. Adam's face falls, but he leaves.

Dick gives himself a few more quick, rough strokes, takes a long breath, and pinches himself around the base. The next part is one of Dick's favorites, and the one Jason likes least. It's rather innocent, in comparison to the things that will happen later, the sucking and the fucking and the whole shebang, but it's so hard to control.

Dick walks off the stage and into the crowd, hands folded behind his back. The more well behaved members of the audience take the opportunity to cop a quick feel, brush a nipple or run a hand down Dick's shoulder, and then quickly retreat back into the relative anonymity of the group.

The less well behaved members of the audience do not content themselves with that, and there's always some asshole who watched too much brutal porn and thinks he's supposed to get Dick to heel. Jason watches the faces of everyone Dick passes, and he sees it before Dick does, has to stand up straighter and hide his balled fists in the pockets of his jacket to keep from marching right in there and getting Dick away from them preemptively.

But nothing off the menu happened yet, and it usually doesn't anyway, and this is part of the show.

A tall bulky guy with a pony tail stops Dick by holding him back by the shoulder, and with a few quick steps he's behind Dick, one hand around Dick's crossed wrists, the other arm around his neck. Dick glances back towards Jason, signaling him with a smile that this is okay, it's fine, it's all according to script, and then he goes slack in the the guy's grip, head falling onto his shoulder, legs widening as he lets the guy take his weight.

For a second the entire room freezes, no one daring to move, and then someone else shoots forward and falls to his knees in front of Dick, giving him a few clumsy tugs before sucking him down. That's usually the moment the mood tips and Dick stops being a person to most of them, where they understand – or think they understand – that they can truly do what they like, here that Dick won't struggle or protest. The truth is a different one, they don't know Jason is around, they don't know that one small sign from Dick means this is over and that Dick will remain the one actually in charge all the way through, but it does serve to reduce him to a sex toy for the majority of the people who, when it comes down to it, did shove over a wad of cash to avoid feeling guilty for living out fantasies like this. Their shame evaporates, their inhibitions melt, and Jason needs to pay attention, monitor the situation twice as closely.

Another man joins in, hands going straight to work behind Dick's back, between his ass cheeks. Everyone has been handed small bottles of lube and been sternly instructed to use them or get thrown out on the spot, and the third guy does uncap his bottle and squirt some on his fingers, then switches hands, and Jason knows he's gone for gold when the muscles in Dick's thighs jump with the initial intrusion. Dick isn't prepped or pre-lubed; he relies on his customers to take care of that, calls it spoiling their fun if he already steps into the crowd loose and ready.

More people flock around them, and hands begin touching Dick everywhere, pawing at his groin, his ass and chest, pinching his nipples. Someone elbows the second guy away from his spot on his knees in front of Dick, takes his place sucking him off. The scene continues like this for maybe ten minutes, blow jobs of varying quality – Jason can read the good ones off Dick's face, causing genuine enjoyment – and then Dick whispers something into the ears of the pony tail guy, the one holding him. Pony tail guy pouts, and Jason takes a step into the room. He obeys after a moment's hesitation, though, and Dick is released.

Once he's back on his own two feet and the people around him have retreated, he glances around and takes two men at random by the hand, turns and leads them towards the stage, to the middle one of the three tables, about waist-high. He whispers instructions to them both and climbs onto the table, on all fours, backside facing the audience. His legs are wide, and he reaches back with on hand, spreading himself, dipping a finger inside. Next he holds his cock out between his legs, presenting its full, hard length to the audience's hungry eyes and at the perfect angle for the cameras aimed at the tables and the swing, and squeezes his balls, sitting tight and full above the shaft.

The two customers look at each other over Dick's back, looking a bit lost, and only one of them acts on the instructions Jason knows they've been given. That's why Dick always gets two people for this part; in case someone's too shy for what follows. The guy – dark-skinned and lithe – steps closer to the table and takes Dick's place in holding his cock out, gives in to temptation from the start and runs his thumb down from the root, over Dick's balls, and back, rubbing along the shaft. Apparently content with this task, he sends the other a pointed glance. Said other – dirty blond, freckled – finally steps to the table and reaches for his bottle of lube, spreading a generous amount of it over the crack of Dick's ass. He dips the first finger in and Dick groans, loudly, wriggles his hip. He adds a second finger a little too quickly for Jason's taste, but Dick lowers his head, fucking himself on it, and the third follows even quicker. Freckles gets into it, scissors and twists his fingers, and that's the first time Dick searches for Jason's gaze for more than a few seconds, more than communication and mutual reassurance. The audience can't see his face, and Dick licks his lips, moans, and for just a moment it's like they're alone, like all of this is for Jason, like the room full of people Dick's exposing himself for doesn't even exist. However much of an exhibitionist Dick is, however much he enjoy being watched by them, there's an edge to this that exists just between them, consists of the shared knowledge that, every day, whenever he looks at him in any other context, Jason will know every sordid detail of the things that happen inside this room. He knows it, and accepts it, and he's aware that, were he the type of man that treated Dick differently because of it, they wouldn't be together.

But the bubble bursts when Dick's eyes fall closed on a groan and he pushes his hips back, needy and demanding; seems like Freckles has hit something particularly pleasant on accident as he's fingering Dick open. Delighted, Freckles pushes his fingers in deeper, clearly aiming for the same reaction again, and Dick allows him that moment of triumph, moaning up a storm, before he calls this part to an end as well. He tells them to step away, thanks them with a smile.

Now comes the main show.

He holds himself open again, showing off his hole, pink and ready, and wriggles his hips. He straightens up and swings around so that he can lay down on his back, knees wide and feet braced against the edge of the table. He props himself up onto his elbow and grins at the crowd, relaxed and excited, and Jason can't decide if he loves him more than ever or wants to sweep him off that table and take him home. Bit of both, probably. Jason's cock, however, has already made a decision, because just like that, he's rock hard. That's par for the course – no matter how many times they do this, Jason will always be caught between jealousy and arousal.

“Anyone wanna fuck me?” Dick asks, tone all casual, letting his gaze roam the audience.

The first person to step up is a guy in a suit, dark hair graying at the temples, and he walks up to the table on the stage like one would walk into a 11 AM business meeting. Once up there, he does get his cock out, but goes off program when he sinks to his knees in front of Dick. He hauls Dick forward so that his ass hangs over the very edge of the table, positions Dick's feet over his shoulders and puts both hands high up on Dick's thighs to spread him. He smiles down at Dick, as if asking for permission, and upon Dick's small nod, he licks a line down his perineum, all the way down to his hole, lapping at it. More people walk up to the stage, some with their pants dropped and their hands on their cocks, others casually as they'd approach an exhibit in a museum. Dick sends a pleased glance around and shifts his weight onto one arm, the other reaching down to wrap around his own erection and jack himself. He's still orchestrating the positions for the camera – that'll become less of a concern later, when things get more frenzied, more chaotic. He turns his head and looks at Jason, eyes half-lidded, moaning, and Jason has to suppress the idea of banishing everyone from that stage and taking Dick himself. But it'll be a while until he gets to do that, and right now Dick gets distracted, glances away when someone else steps up and takes over in jerking him off.

Suit guy seems to have have satisfied his appetite and proves quite the show man, stepping half to the side, spreading Dick's wet hole for the audience in front of the stage and pushing his legs open further, brushing his thumb over the furled ring of muscle to open it up a little for their viewing pleasure, pull it wide, tease at it with his tongue from the side. Dick's moans rise in volume – the exhibitionist in him must love the thought that the crowd is getting such an intimate look. Finally, suit guy rolls Dick’s hips back so his ass his about a hand's width in the air before he lines up and pushes his cock inside. He's going slow, but he doesn't pause, doesn't let Dick adjust, and the strain from taking his first cock tonight like that is written all over Dick's face. Someone close to him on the stage whoops with excitement, caressing his face, and Jason bets it won't take long now before they cotton on to the fact that Dick also has a mouth that could be filled. Not yet, though, apparently. Another classic gets checked off first, and as he lies there, getting fucked and jerked off, a third guy walks to him from the other side and ejaculates across his chest and stomach, smearing it around after and scooping some up with his finger, rubbing it on Dick's lip. Dick opens his mouth, tongue stuck out, lapping it off his fingers.

Apparently inspired, suit guy pulls out before he comes, spilling over Dick's ass and junk, and he sticks his finger inside Dick's hole with a huge, sex-drunk grin before he steps away. Another customer is already there to take his place, half-undressed, pushes his cock right in without pretext and with an expression of intense concentration. Jason doesn't peg him for much by the way of stamina, and yep, it's not even ten thrusts before he too is coming, his orgasm face as nondescript and, well, boring, as the rest of him. Meanwhile, the guy who's been jerking Dick off has also given way to a replacement, and this new one sets a much rougher pace, long and harsh strokes, and yeah, that's more Dick's style. He comes for the first time tonight shortly after a third guy, equally unmemorable as the second, has taken over fucking him. His eyes find Jason's just seconds before climax washes over him and Jason holds his eyes, a moment of near-intimacy in the midst of this frenzy.

Dick's face morphs into a grimace pretty quickly; overstimulation tends to hit him hard, but none of the men on stage with him know that, and so they keep stroking and thrusting; the one pumping his cock doesn't seem to notice Dick's orgasm until his erection wanes, and then steps away as if in a daze, wiping Dick's come off on his jeans. Whether the guy currently pumping into him notices that or not is anyone's guess, because he keeps going, keeps fucking until he himself comes, pulls out and walks away without a glance.

For a moment, Dick lies there, chest heaving, legs lowered down now that no one's between them, no one holding him open. His customers don't seem to know how to proceed – maybe wondering if proceeding is allowed, and Jason sort of hopes that the hesitation, the relative gentleness, persists. There's been nights where Dick had already been bruised and crying at this point, and Jason likes this atmosphere much better.

The break is a short one, though. Dick sits up and flips over onto his stomach, gets his legs underneath him so that he's kneeling with his face down and his ass in the air, pushed out like an offering – like the offering that it is. And it doesn't take long for someone to take it. This guy is blond, about their age, and with his polo shirt and cargo pants he looks like he dressed for a golf club, not for a sex party. Jason eyes him carefully – these are the types that can tip either way – and he curses his earlier thought when the guy gives the crowd a vicious grin, hauls his arm back, and lands a flat hand on Dick's ass. Dick rocks forward with the impact. Some shock too; given the angle he probably didn't really see this coming. But he doesn't protest, and the glance he sends Jason doesn't contain a request for help either. He's put up with worse without halting the proceedings. This raises Jason's hackles, but it's not, in the grand scheme of things, anything new.

The wannabe golfer rains three or four more hits onto each of Dick's ass cheeks, getting the skin to redden a bit, and then apparently remembers that he's got more urgent needs. He pulls the ugly polo shirt off over his head, lets his cargos pool around his ankles, and goes for it. His style when it comes to penetration isn't much gentler, he downright slams into Dick, almost pulls out, then does it again, and Dick sways with the force of that as well. Dick remains quiet, enduring rather than enjoying, and Jason nervously steps from foot to foot, arms crossed over his chest, reminding himself that everything that happens in here is Dick's decision. And if Dick decides he's going to put up with it, Jason doesn't get to go question that. He's here to witness, to guard and protect, not to patronize.

Thankfully it's at least over quickly, too much wild energy for the golfer guy to last, and he bends over Dick when he comes, clumsily pawing at Dick's limp cock for a vague attempt at a reach around. When he steps back, Dick visibly exhales.

There's another ready to replace him, similar dress, probably the same clique, but he gets pushed out of the way by suit guy with the gray temples from earlier; he pushes the next guy away too, dealing him a stern look. Then he steps around to kneel in front of the table, by Dick's head. He smiles, pushes sweat-damp hair out of Dick's face, whispers something, and for a moment the possessive jealousy in Jason pitches itself up into a storm. It's almost worse than the anger from before, from watching someone be rough with Dick, because this gentleness? Soothing Dick? That's Jason's part, later, once everyone's left and they're home and done and it's time to get Dick down to solid ground. They don't get to that. He recognizes it as a kindness, and the rational part of him appreciates that, is grateful someone's taking care of Dick in the middle of this. The raging, jealous part, well. He'll have a lid on that in a minute.

Whatever suit guy suggested finds Dick's approval. He nods, pushes himself up so he's really standing on hands and knees, and suit guy runs his hand down Dick's back, between his ass cheeks, making Dick part his legs a little more. He massages the spot just above the root of his cock, and with his other hand, squirts lube over Dick's taint. Next he works two fingers inside, just barely, and Jason understands what he's doing.

Dick's reaction isn't instantaneous, it takes a few minutes, but when he does respond to the massage there's no mistaking it. His moan is more of a cut-off whine, and he lets his head fall forward between his arms so that Jason can't see his expression anymore, but they've done this; he can recall it from memory just fine. He watches a first trickle of fluid drip from Dick's cock, collecting on the table, watches Dick hold his breath to retain a semblance of self-control. He also knows that's a losing battle – it always is, to some extent, but that doesn't mean Dick doesn't fight for it – and Jason has to press the heel of his palm into the bulge between his own legs when the noises start up. Dick keens, loud and wanton, rocking back onto the fingers inside of him, and more fluid dribbles from his cock. A few members of the crowd have stepped closer, and one proves adventurous enough to reach out and touch the leaking head, making Dick jump and his breathing go uneven, and the effect is apparently entertaining enough that more of them approach, taking turns in rubbing the seminal fluid over Dick's cockhead, which is wet and glistening and, admittedly, does look inviting, or giving him quick, rough tugs, getting him hard. The room has gone quiet so Dick's moans and panted breaths reverberate even more, and there's a collective gasp ripping through it when one of Dick's arms gives in. He almost loses his balance, catches himself at the last moment. He looks up, a deep blush coloring his face, and this show of vulnerability, to him, must be worse than anything else the crowd has seen so far. But his body is having the time of its life; he's still leaking, an almost constant flow, and his thighs are quivering. Jason forgets to keep track of the time, as transfixed by the sight in front of him, the unheeded display of pleasure, as the rest of the audience.

Suit guy removes his fingers with a gentle pat to Dick's lower back, and only then does Jason remember to check his watch. They're just past the one-hour-mark now, halfway through the event.

On the stage, suit guy and two others are helping Dick stand up. He's wobbly on his feet, has to lean against the table's edge for support, and his eyes fall close as another guys sinks down in front of him. He licks the fluid from Dick's slit, making Dick cry out, then glances up with a smirk and swallows him down in one go.

It doesn't take more than a few bobs of his head for Dick to come, a sudden and hard orgasm that nearly takes his legs out from under him; the two men still standing on either side of him have to hold his arms to keep him from sliding to the ground. They only hold him up until the man sucking him off has pulled away, however, then they exchange a stumped glance and let Dick collapse against the table on his own. His eyes are closed again, and he's making no attempt to get up. He's overwhelmed, boneless, and there's murmuring in the crowd around him, awe and concern. Jason would worry too, but he knows this is temporary; Dick will get up in a minute. He's seen this before, and might see it once or twice more before they're done for the night.

Knowing all of that doesn't him from wanting to go over, pick Dick up, hold him and shield him from view. After, these are the things Dick will find humiliating; not the sex, being exposed and taken, but losing control, failing to make his body yield to his will. But that's all part of it, and in the end he gets off on the humiliation as well. Jason makes a note on it for later, resolves to bring it up for the final part of this, back home.

Breaking the collective truce, another wannabe yuppie from golfer guy's clique steps forward, pulls his cock out, and starts jacking himself. The goal of that one is obvious, and utterly mystifying to Jason: he's going to mark Dick up, come onto him, and where the satisfaction lies in ejaculating all over someone who seems momentarily helpless, Jason will never understand. But that, too, isn't exactly a first, and Dick vaguely peers up when the guy comes in thick stripes over his chest and stomach. Jason, magically, manages to not march after him and clock him one when he heads for the bar in the next room.

But that small action serves to irreversibly change the mood in the crowd, rolls back suit guy’s noble attempts to make this about Dick’s pleasure too. The hesitation in the audience melts before Jason’s eyes. Murmuring starts up, people wondering what Dick will put up with – if there truly is nothing he’ll protest within the limits that have been set, if they truly aren’t required to think about what Dick needs or wants in this, if they can truly just go ahead and touch or fuck him any way they like without having to feel bad about it afterward.

Already a pair of older guys sets upon making the most out of their entry fee. They're both naked. Neither is much of a sight – untrained, pudgy around the waist – and yet they're the first to dare to strip bare; most of the others so far contented themselves with pulling their dicks out or dropping their pants. One of them has a bottle of liquor and two glasses in hand, filled with ice cubes. He kneels next to a slowly recovering Dick, and the other pulls him away from the table and slides in behind him. The bottle gets uncapped, and lo and behold, they're generous enough to let Dick have a swig from the bottle before they upend about half its contents all over his body. Dick twitches – there's scratches on his body, to say nothing about how the alcohol must feel on his used and swollen hole – and they laugh, which makes Jason's fists itch terribly yet again.

The kneeling guy crawls between Dick's legs, leans forward, licks the liquor from his nipples. Just there, nowhere else, and ah, some people have transparent kinks. He reaches for an ice cube from one of the glasses, and Dick flinches from the cold as it is rubbed across both nipples in turn, blinks, moans. It dies in his throat when the guy seals his mouth around a nipple and bites, which Jason can see because he does so open-mouthed, drags at the nub that is still hardened from the freezing cube up with his teeth. He releases it, repeats the same thing on the other side, back and around, each time dragging it a little more, a little further. Dick is writhing in his friend's hold, eyes now open, more alert, and tries to get his legs underneath him. Probably not to get away – they're not doing anything that he didn't allow for, and he's goddamn fucking stupid like that – but to get a little more purchase, regain control of the situation.

The guy between his legs responds to that by sliding further down until he's flat on his stomach, now lapping at and playing with Dick's balls and still flaccid cock. The guy behind Dick takes over the attention to his chest, rubbing and twisting already aggravated skin. They seem to be getting bored, though, because there's a quick, animated conversation, and the one at Dick's back hauls him into a sitting position, then to his feet. They lead him to the couch. One of them sits down and tugs at Dick to sit atop him. They maneuver him around until he's spread on the guy's lap, legs wide, and then the guy reclines, one arm around Dick's torso to make him lie down with him. Once they seem satisfied with the position, the guy underneath Dick pushes inside him, one hand around his thigh to keep him open and on display, his body arched. A few other men have noticed there's a show to be had, the angle allowing them a nice, unobstructed view of the cock pistoning in and out of him. Some shout encouragement as the guy seals his hand over Dick's mouth, restricting his air, and fucks him at a harsh and unrelenting pace. Dick's hand comes up around the guy's neck and taps out a slow rhythm, and Jason both knows and hates that it's for him; a signal that Dick's still with it, not actually in any danger, and also insurance so that Jason has something to peg whether or not he continues to be in the green. This is experience, the small signs, designed to be recognizable but not interrupt the flow of the proceedings.

At least the guy doesn't seem to be a total loss as a top, because Dick is growing hard again, cock filling as it bobs with each thrust. He's moaning too, albeit muffled by the palm pressed to his mouth and nose. He's beautiful, graceful, even like this. Maybe more so, in a way, boiled down to a heap of primal pleasure, possessing no shame at all over the noises he makes, how he looks when he's heading towards another shallow orgasm under the administrations of a complete stranger who's paying for the privilege.

Neither he nor Jason get to enjoy it for long – the guy also comes with a few more quick, brutal thrusts, and then chooses to release Dick by pushing him to the floor and standing up, literally stepping over him, a move intended to be degrading. He and his buddy have another good laugh about it as they walk away, and Jason entertains a little revenge fantasy on Dick's behalf, hopes he'll run into them on the street some time, get the opportunity to show them what it feels like to be shoved down and discarded. It wouldn't come close to laying on the ground up there on stage, half on their side, fresh come still smearing their cockhead and stomach, like Dick does right now, but it would be a start.

Startled, it takes Dick a few moments to catch his bearings, and by that point someone new, short and stocky with a receding hairline, has sat down on the couch. Dick turns towards him, and Shorty leans back, pulling down his zipper, tapping his cock into his palm. Dick takes the time to send Jason a smile and an eye roll – it's so cliché, Shorty's got to be another candidate for the watches too much bad porn category – but Dick indulges him and crawls towards him on his hands and knees, licking his lips, braces himself on the seat of the sofa and opens his mouth to suck him down.

Dick's barely gotten started when a young guy with a baseball cap, naked from the waist down, kneels behind him. Before pushing inside, he experimentally pokes a finger into Dick’s hole, twists it around, and grins when that produces a chocked-off moan. Both hands pressing down on Dick's shoulders and thereby making him swallow Shorty's cock to the root, making him choke and cough, Baseball Cap replaces his finger with his cock and fucks into Dick. But he still doesn't seem satisfied with the position. After a few deep, damn near brutal thrusts, he leans forward and runs his hands down Dick's arms, gripping him by the wrists, and straightens them out behind Dick's back. That means Dick can't support his own weight anymore, and Baseball Cap can shove and push him around as he likes, also directing how deeply he can take Shorty's cock in his mouth. Shorty seems displeased, counteracts by holding Dick's jaw firmly in attempt to keep him near and face fuck him the way he wants, and Dick gets hauled back and forth between them both, balance shot and no way to regain a stable stance. It can't be comfortable either, the way Baseball Cap keeps tugging at his arms.

Jason doesn't have an opportunity to cultivate his anger towards either him or Shorty, because Carl, one of the bartenders, has stepped up behind him.

“No wonder he rakes it in every time he's scheduled.” It sounds derogatory, spit out with a sneer, and Jason refrains from pointing out that Carl manages to schedule a shift for Dick's events every single time and always spend his smoke break coming over to watch. “I don't get how you're letting him do that, whore himself out in here even though you're together.”

They've had that conversation before, and Jason is in no mood to rehash it. He keeps his eyes on Dick. “I'm not letting him do anything. He's not my property. It's his decision.”

Carl huffs, but seems to prioritize rubbing one out, a hand down his pants, over continuing the conversation. He's only got ten minutes before he's got to be back at the bar, after all, and Jason quietly judges him the entire time. Not for getting off – Jason is still hard too, bouts of anger or jealousy notwithstanding – but for the double standard of looking down on Dick and masturbating over the sight anyway. He's not a bad guy otherwise, talks to and jokes with Dick like he does with anyone else during regular hours. Jason knows he's not the only one who wouldn't understand. Not worth getting worked up over.

By the time Carl has left, Shorty and Baseball Cap are done too, and Dick is sitting on his haunches, chest heaving. His eyes are wet, and Jason can't tell if it's from the coughing or from sheer exhaustion; maybe both. It's been more than an hour and a half. He's got to be worn out. Of course he's not granted much of a breather: someone walks up to him, already stepping out of his pants, boxers gathered around his knees, and rubs his cock over Dick's cheek. Obediently, Dick clasps his thighs for purchase and offers his mouth, and the guy curls a hand around Dick's neck and doesn't let him set the pace, uses him like a rag doll. Another squats beside Dick, fully clothed, and fondles his sac and soft cock, casual, almost playful, like he can't believe he actually gets to do this and no one's stopping him. He proceeds to pull at Dick's cock, finger him, and Dick's face contorts even as he pushes his ass out for better access. Oversensitivity again – none of this can be strictly pleasant for him anymore, so far into it, after having come three or four times, constantly touched and drowning in sensations. If he does manage to get hard again anytime soon and even have another orgasm, it's gonna be a dry one, possibly painful, and that's nothing to look forward to either. Now he really does exist purely for their satisfaction, the rest of the time until all this is over. Most of the men who still fuck him like this don't care too much for his pleasure either. For some of them it might even be an extra thrill, to get their rocks off with someone who's allowing it, open and pliant, but doesn't take any enjoyment out of it himself anymore. They want to a hole to fill, to dominate someone and feel in charge, and in the grand scheme of things it's possibly better they get that fix here than on an unwilling partner out there in their real life.

Watching Dick sigh and suck in a breath when his two current customers pull him to a stand and coax him over to the lowest table, however, Jason fiercely wishes they wouldn't work that fantasy out on his boyfriend. This isn't even possessiveness anymore, just an unhappy curl of emotions low in his stomach at seeing Dick have sex like that.

His stomach drops further when he realizes what they have in mind. The one who previously fucked his mouth is laying down on the table, pulling Dick to straddle him, and the other stands behind him, bouncing on his feet with excitement. Blowjob guy doesn't waste any time, drives right in, and his newfound partner shucks his jeans and half-kneels behind them, following suit. They figure out that's a possibility every other event night, that double-teaming is included and allowed, either come in with the idea already or, like in this case, manage to organize some spontaneous teamwork. These two, however, seem particularly clumsy at it, much too fast with little additional lube or prep. Neither of them is all that small, size-wise, it's obvious they don't know what they're doing, and for a moment, once they’re both inside him, the expression on Dick's face shifts toward real pain. Jason takes a step forward on autopilot, gets halted by an almost imperceptible shake of Dick's head, signaling him it's okay, no need to step in.

Dick's lips move, and while Jason can't hear him clearly, he can see the shape of the words and the gesture accompanying it; he's asking for more lube. To his credit, blowjob guy hastily complies, mumbling apologies. He bends for his bottle, spreads the liquid around where they're pressing into Dick's body, two fingers slipping in past both their cocks to work it inside as well. Dick hisses, but he nods, and screws his eyes shut in concentration.

The fingers are removed, they start to thrust, and it's predictably uncoordinated. They're both still too selfish, too excited, and Dick doesn't relax for the whole time they've got him like this. It takes awhile before the first of them, the one on top, slows down and comes, punctuated by a few harsh thrusts and a long, stuttered moan. His momentary teammate catches up, roughly fucking up into Dick, and they have him collapsing forward with the force of it, cursing under his breath. His distress is unmistakable, and they both pull out quickly after that, allowing him to roll out from between them, and leave him alone with a few tentative pats to his shoulder.

He lies there, inching forward until his ass hangs off the edge of the table, taking careful, measured breaths, and meets Jason's eyes. The smile he gives him doesn't reach his eyes, and Jason really wishes he wouldn't bother. He may have to put up a front for them, as much as he's still able, but Jason doesn't need the pretense. He just needs to know Dick's okay. He mouths a silent I love you at him – it's strange, they barely ever say it in their everyday life, but during these nights Jason can't seem to stop saying the words – and Dick mouths it back, swiping a hand over his face.

Soon. Jason will get to go home with him very soon.

There's about fifteen minutes left, however, and for the moment Dick still belongs to his audience. The guy with the baseball cap is back for seconds, and Jason is somewhat unsurprised that he appears to be part of the clique around the golfer kid from earlier. They heave Dick upwards, unimpressed by the way he hunches over when they push him to sit back down on the table. He smiles anyway – how can he still do that – and points to the swing instead, spouting off a few lines about how great an experience it is in order to convince them. After a short discussion, they agree, and Dick walks ahead of them. He holds his arms wide when he reaches the swing, invitation for them to position him at their leisure, and he's pushed onto the swing face first, then swung around, and Jason doesn't pay particular attention to who gets the first turn, the second, or third. They hold Dick's leg wide, either by holding up his ankles or pushing into the hollow of his knees, taking turns every few thrusts. Dick's body sways in the swing with every thrust, soft cock wiggling, and he's silent, expression detached, far away. They cheer when the third pulls out and come drips out of Dick's twitching hole, trickles down his crack. One of them smears it around on Dick's ass cheeks, and high fives are had before the first is back in line and slides his cock in again. Neither of them seems to be chasing their own climax; they're not doing this to get off anymore, they're doing this because they can. They'll probably all be wanking off to this for months, might put in their name for next party, and Jason will do what he can to make sure they won't ever get another go at Dick. The club keeps the raw, unanonymised footage of all events for backup. Jason's got a good memory for faces. He's done it before, and Dick can usually do some cherry-picking on his customers anyway.

It's over, rather unspectacularly, with the tinny sound of a bell and a prerecorded messages asking all patrons to come to an end, the club hopes they had a good time and will be back for another event, and maybe they'd like to stay and have a drink at the bar. The last few men remaining in the room collect their things and head out, and finally, finally Jason can walk over to Dick, still hanging in the swing, and gather him into his arms. They stand there for a moment, Jason rubbing a hand over the small of Dick's back, and then he hooks Dick's arm over his shoulder and they walk backstage together. He helps him lie down and slots in behind him, just holding on, for a good ten or twenty minutes.

But even though the event is behind them, they're not done. A quick cuddle won't be enough to truly get Dick to come back down from this – they'd made that mistake in the beginning, and Dick would drop for days afterwards. Jason will have to pitch him up a little more first, lead him towards a pointed, carefully guided release.

Jason presses a kiss to the join of Dick's neck and shoulder, nuzzles at him to make him turn around in Jason's arms. “Hey, look at me.” Dick does, bleary eyes peering his way. He must have been half asleep. “You still good?” Jason asks. “Want me to continue?”

Awareness trickles back into Dick's features, and he nods, almost immediately extracts himself from Jason's embrace. He gets up, stands with his hands clasped behind his back. “Can I have a shower first?”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. He rakes his eyes up and down Dick's body, making a face, an exaggerated grimace. “No. I mean I get why you'd want to, I do.” He steps closer, sniffs at Dick, and shakes his head like a disappointed teacher. “You stink. Spunk, alcohol, sweat. But you're not cleaning up yet.”

Peering up from under his eyelashes, Dick resorts to begging. He smiles at him sweetly. “Please?”

Another step, and Jason is right in Dick's face, using the couple inches he's got on Dick in height to look at him down his nose. He reaches around Dick's body with a still gloved hand, pats and squeezes his ass. He works a finger inside, into the mess of lube and come, and strokes them around Dick's prostate. Dick groans, wobbles on his feet, and Jason pushes his knee between Dick's legs, waits until he can feel that Dick actually mustered up an erection again. It's nowhere near rock-hard and straining, but it'll serve its purpose.

Jason removes his fingers, reaches into his pocket and produces a leather cock-ring, holds it up to show it to Dick before he slides it around the base of his cock and pulls it taught. He leans in to whisper. “They had their turn. You're mine again now, understood?”

“Yes,” says Dick, looking at Jason with a look that's half mocking and attitude, half trust and affection, and Jason very nearly falls out of his role and smiles back.

But he catches himself, steps away to root around in the bag they keep here for events, pulls out sneakers, a thin, worn pair of sweatpants and an equally threadbare t-shirt, and shoves them towards Dick. No underwear, no jacket. Just enough to be halfway decent in this weather for the short walk to and from the car.

Most importantly, when Dick's pulled the sweatpants on, his hard-on is still clearly visible under the fabric. They're one size too small, cling to his crotch and thighs, hiding absolutely nothing. Jason nods to himself, then reconsiders, reaching out to squeeze and tease Dick's nipples through the equally tight t-shirt, until they've hardened as well, still sensitive and tender from the rough abuse earlier.

“Let's go home,” he says, and pushes Dick in the direction of the main room, where the regular night time entertainment is still in full swing and people will be watching strippers on stage or having lap dances. He makes him walk ahead, a hand on the small of his back, making a fanfare when they exit the back room. The every-day patrons largely don't notice, but to everyone else, everyone who knows what just happened in the private room, it's going to be obvious that Dick took all of that, writhed on everyone's cocks and mouths and fingers for two hours, and he still hasn't had enough, is still aroused on his walk back home.

Dick's breathing is labored the whole way. Jason doesn't let him rush; he flicks his fingers against Dick's back whenever he walks too fast. He knows Dick's face will have colored, a flush high on his cheeks, both from arousal and humiliation.

Before he lets Dick sit down in the car, Jason makes a show of unfolding a towel on the passenger seat, smoothing out a crease, and only then does he nod for Dick to get inside. They don't talk for the drive, and Dick is constantly squirming in his seat, doesn't seem able to find a comfortable position. Underprepped double pen will do that a guy, plus the cockring keeps him at least half-hard and there's got be come dribbling out of him still; hence the towel. He's visibly uncomfortable, and he keeps sneaking glances at Jason that Jason wholesale ignores.

There's no posing on the way from the parking lot to Dick's building – they're in public and none of Dick's neighbors had a chance to agree to being witnesses in such play. Jason curls is hand around Dick's and Dick stays close to him, walking in the shadow of his bulk. They take the service elevator upstairs to the penthouse, minimizing the risk of running into other people this time of night. Upstairs, Jason uses his spare set of keys to let them in and, just as soon as the door has fallen closed behind them, stops Dick by wrapping a hand around the back of his neck none too gently.

Dick goes rigid under his touch, awaiting his next instruction. And Jason makes him wait. He switches the lights on and lets his gaze roam around the loft, large and expensive, practically screaming corporate heir. Dick doesn't much care for interior decoration, meaning the place has been furnished by someone on the extensive Wayne payroll, and the only parts of it that are truly Dick are the paintings on the wall, circus tents and elephants and such things as a reminder of a life a lost when he was still a child. But even those scream money, all commissioned original paintings, and all of that drives it home yet again that Dick doesn't need to do the work he does; he choose to, and he enjoys it. Maybe he's enjoying it more because that's pissing off his surrogate father, but Jason isn't here to untangle anyone's daddy issues. Not tonight.

He releases Dick's neck, pushes him forward with just enough force that Dick stumbles, but doesn't fall. “Naked, now. And get the rope and the candles.”

Dick's breath catches in his throat, pupils dilating, but he nods, sheds the t-shirt, sweatpants and shoes, and marches ahead into the bathroom. He kneels in front of their toy drawer – he didn't have to, he could have just quickly bent down – produces a bundle of dark-blue rope, a bottle of body oil, a lighter and two thin soy candles, and sets them onto the edge of the bed.

By now, Dick knows the position; the play varies, but that's always the same. He lies down, spread-eagled, arms halfway pulled in, and lets Jason tie those to the headboard first. Then he braces both legs on the mattress, fallen wide, and Jason pushes them up until his are knees bent forward so far they almost touch his elbows, and then ties them into place too, hooked around his ankles to keep that position. The rope is symbolic at most. It's got a generous give, doesn't restrict him completely, and the knots are meant to unfurl on a hard enough tug. This is less about control and more about trust and an illusion of helplessness, of complete surrender.

Jason doesn't undress yet. He's only pulled off his jacket, and he still hasn't taken off his gloves. He kneels behind Dick's tied-off legs and rubs a hand down over his balls, his perineum. He brushes a finger over Dick's red and swollen rim, making him shiver, then dips it inside.

“You're such a fucking mess,” he says, locking eyes with Dick. “So many people. So much come. I've seen how it poured out of you near the end. You're sloppy. Soiled.”

Dick's chest heaves. He blinks, but doesn't break eye contact. He's still red-faced with embarrassment, even as his pupils remain dark, his expression hooded, like he's drunk.

Jason wraps his other hand around Dick's cock, tugs at him, harsh and rough. “I think my favorite tonight was when that banker-lookalike milked you.” He swirls his thumb over the head. “He had you dripping and totally out of it. The noises you made, so needy. I'll ask for a copy of tonight's party, just for that. Play it back to you every time we fuck for the next few weeks.”

He pinches the base of Dick's cock when Dick's breathing speeds up, tying the cockring a little tighter. Then he uncaps the oil and generously pours it over Dick's chest, stomach and crotch, rubs it over the mess of glitter and dried come that's still clinging to Dick's body. He reaches behind himself for the lighter and one of the candles, holds them up, and Dick whines.

The first stripe of wax, Jason pours over a particularly persistent come stain above Dick's navel, and Dick cries out, his breathing gone hard, erratic. He glances away, up to the ceiling, breathing through the pain, and Jason says his name, loud, like a warning.

“Look at me,” he demands. “After all you let them do, after all you let them see, you're looking at me and nowhere else now.”

He rubs his thumb over the already cooling wax, the reddened skin underneath, and then brings the candle down again before Dick has a chance to parse its path. Several stripes he pours like that, each making Dick pant more desperately, making him moan and strain against the rope.

Jason lets the candle dance a hand's width from Dick's skin oh his stomach, lets him feel the heat. “The guy who choked you, pulled you backwards, displayed you as he fucked into you. The audience liked that. They were all watching you, touching themselves at seeing you used like that, held open for their greedy eyes.”

There's another deep, throaty groan, and Jason switches the candle in his hands, holds it high over Dick's chest, letting the implication sink in before he actually dips it down. Dick wails when the hot wax coats his nipples, one, then the other. Burning away someone else's spit and teeth, someone else's touch.

Holding Dick's eyes, Jason lets the candle hover all the way down Dick's body, towards his crotch, and Dick is straining against the rope constantly now. He's mumbling something, and Jason can't decipher whether it's a bargain or a demand, but as long as it's not his safeword that doesn't matter. He holds Dick's cock out of the way with his other hand, giving it a few hard tugs while he's there, and then he lets another drip of wax spill over, hitting less than an inch from the base of Dick's cock. He groans, whines, a noise almost like laughter but not at all the same and also so much sweeter right now.

Jason blows the candle out and places it on the nightstand. He leans forward, brushes his thumb down Dick's cheek. "You've been so good for everyone, gave them a night to remember." He sets the gentle words off by scratching at the fresh layer of wax that's cooling so dangerously close to Dick's cock. "Can you be good one more time? Come again, just once more? For me?”

Dick shakes his head. He attempts to close his legs, but the rope hinders his movement.

And Jason smiles. "Yes, actually. I think you can."

He unzips his pants and takes his cock out, still hard – or again, he hasn't kept track – and jacks himself a few times for Dick to see. Then he leans over Dick, taking a deep, filthy kiss from him, and positions himself between Dick's legs just so, lining up. Dick moans and hisses when he pushes inside, pulls on the restraints around his arms, but there's not a whole lot of fight left in him. He's a boneless heap underneath Jason, his whole body swaying slightly with each thrust, and Jason chants praise low under his breath while he fucks into him in short, sharp bursts that brush against Dick's prostate the way Jason knows he likes best. It doesn't take long until he comes, visible mostly in the familiar way his stomach muscles contract, a telltale rhythm in his breathing, because it's nearly dry, only a few solitary beads of come trickling from the slit and down his cock. Jason fucks into him a few more times, chasing his own orgasm. He pulls out moments before his peak, and comes in thick streaks all over Dick's stomach.

They remain like that for a few more seconds, and then Jason hurries to remove the cock ring, untie the restraints. He rushes off the bed and sheds his clothes as quickly as he can and gets back onto the bed, pulling Dick into his arms, now skin to bare skin. Dick curls into him, and Jason rubs his back as he feels tears fall hotly against his skin. He's sobbing silently, and Jason presses his lips to the top of his head, strokes his hair.

“Hey,” he says, brushes Dick's hair out of his face when he doesn't respond, and tips his head up, says it again. “Hey. Let's get you cleaned up, okay? After that we can cuddle as much and for as long as you need.”

Dick sucks in a gulp of air, but he nods, and Jason helps him off the bed, keeps an arm around him on the way to the shower. In there, Dick leans against the wall, both palms pressed to the tile, and lets Jason regulate the temperature of the spray, then guide him under it, squirting shower gel into his open palm. He washes the mess off Dick's skin, spreading the soft suds over his chest and stomach, between his legs, until the only traces of tonight's events that remain on Dicks skin are the scratches and the wax. He keeps his touch soft, not clinical exactly but also in no way lingering on his cock, his hole, or anywhere else, more than he needs to wash the mess off him; this isn't about sex anymore. That part of the night is over. He turns Dick around so he's bracing his forearms on the tile instead, legs wide, and carefully cleans his shoulders and back, his taint and the backs of his thighs. Last but not least, he sets upon removing what wax is still clinging to Dick's skin, made easier by the oil they used earlier, most of it gone already.

After, he towels Dick off and carries him back to the bed – there's no protest, like he'd usually get for the very attempt – throws the dirty sheets aside and then gently lowers Dick onto the fresh ones underneath. He then lies down next to him and pulls him close. Dick rests his head on Jason's arm, small rivulets from Dick's still-damp hair trickling down his skin. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore, but he's smiling, exhausted, sated, grateful – there's no untangling the range of emotions written on his face, and no limits to the things Jason would do for him, would do to keep him safe and happy.

“I love you,” he says, smoothing a hand down Dick's upper arm. “My beautiful bird."