This is my first story of this genre and context. Please tell me what you think by sending me your comments, views and general feedback to wheels-on-fire@hotmail.co.uk. The general disclaimer applies; any connections to names are purely coincidental. This story is for an adult audience, so please do not read if you are under the age of 18, or it is illegal to do so in your county. This story is purely fictional, none of these events have actually happened.
Superior Connections
Chapter 2
The sensations that met Christian were intense. The City was a place for power and force. He felt very small. Large trains burdened with an impossible amount of people deposited their cargo onto the platforms. Waves of people drowned Christian as they walked to the station central. Cases, pulled behind, buffeted his ankles, encouraging him to move aside. Christian felt pushed, claustrophobic, hot, scared, experienced vertigo looking down onto the tracks. He wasn't used to this. He didn't want to be here. Against the current moved a man. He had a commanding air about him. He was Moses; he parted the sea of bodies. His height gave him air above the current, he surveyed platform five. A grey face looked out, eyes wide in wonder, looking at everything but not anything particular, lips slightly parted. He looked small, lost. Christian soon found in a bubble of space. A bulk stood before him. He blinked, his lenses focused and, for the first time, Christian saw Jacques in the flesh.
Christian spoke first. "Hello". He was shy. In the space, he felt as though it was only Jacques and himself in the room. He needed to break the tension, fill the space. "I got here." A wry smile settled in the corners of his mouth.
Jacques made contact. He formally extended his hand and shook Christian's. A true, honest, confident, friendly smile fixed itself to Jacques face. "Lets get out of here." Jacques said, still grasping Christian's hand, he pulled him forward. They left Kings Cross station via the underground. More people, more heat, more claustrophobia. Christian was introduced to gates which open via cards instead of cranks and concrete weights on chains. Long escalators which, like roads, has moving traffic on the left hand side. Then maps which have no correspondence to the land on the surface. The Ordinance Survey would have a break down; the omission of rocks, buildings, benches, points of interest, patches of grass, yet everyone knew were they were going. Trains came constantly, always moving people around, yet, no matter how often a train would come, they always seemed to be packed. This would never happen in the country side.
A train pulled up, people got off then people go on and then everything changed. Nobody spoke. Nobody looked at each other. Everyone had to find a space on the window of celling in which to look at until the end of their journey. It was almost instinctive for Christian found that he too would sit in silence, observing the off white plastic and the etched by E-Duke diamond rings windows. Each time the train approached the next station, a formal, female English voice came over the intercom to inform passengers of the next stop. Six or seven stations passes. After Oxford Circus, the train population dramatically decreased. The penultimate station was announced and Jacques nodded and grinned at Christian. They stood in the now almost empty carriage, Christian made sure to mind the gap, but concluded he would have to have very small feet in which to find any danger between the carriage and the platform.
Jacques led the way. His long leg strides meant that Christian struggled to keep up with him. He was worried that he would be left behind, in this strange city. He was in an area which he assumed was named after a car manufacturer. He briefly considered as to why anyone would name an area after such a business, other then for fantastic promotional value which would be de-merited through a Google search. His thoughts were brought to a halt when his ticket would not let him pass the gate. It bleeped red at him. He panicked, briefly, for the second swipe granted him access. Increasing his pace, adrenaline tainted with fear pushed through his blood, he felt shaky as he caught up with Jacque. Jacque led him through several streets. Christian felt disorientated, very aware that he would have to rely on this man to help him find the way out of the maze of streets. They came to a fairly tall brick building. They entered into a white, brightly lit area, showing off an oversized plant and a poor print, commonly found in certain Swedish furniture stores. At the back was a set of double doors which led to an elevator and a fire hazard concrete stair case.
Jacques lived on the third floor. The elevator announced this through a very, over pronounced, rolling 'r' "Third Floor". The doors opened and down a corridor, much like in a hotel were many doors, featuring the same frontage. Jacques walked past half of the door and turned to the right. Out of his pocket he produced a ring of keys, Christian noted the lack of key chain whilst Jacques selected two keys to be used in both locks. The door opened and a wide, open apartment was laid out. The bed and bathrooms were off to one side, in their own, white washed cubes, the kitchen was at the back, a step up, in front of a wide panoramic widow.
"Would you like a drink?" Jaques asked. Christian was exhausted from the journey he had under took today, both emotionally and geographically. Christian also had the impression that Jacques was only just starting and there would be a lot to go through before the next time he could let down his guard and sleep. He needed something to add a little bit of life back into him.
"Coffee please, milk and one sugar" Christian said, the preference Christian assumed was universal throughout. Jacques nodded and walked over to the kitchen, a spring in his step as he moved up onto the platform. Christian did not really know what to do with himself. The white washed walls, black furniture and hardwood floors looked very much in harmony that he felt very out of place in his trodden jeans and canvas trainers. After a brief hesitation, he joined Jacques who had just finished filling the kettle with more water then really was necessary. The slight rumbling of water started, the kettle clicked a little. Jacques squarely faced Christian. He crossed into Christian's personal space. Stood almost too close to comfort. Jacques hand moved with purpose and firmly kneaded Christian's arse. He moved his leg between Christian's, initiating crotch to groin contact. Christian tilted his head back, Jacque looked down and left a gentle kiss on Christian's quivering lips. Jacques was hard. Christian felt the constricting presence of his jeans on his erection. Another kiss, longer this time. Christians hands fell by his side, not knowing what to do with them. Jacque continued the exploration of Christian's back, feeling for his shoulder blades, the bumps of his spine. He ran his hands through Christian's hair, thick, dark, soft. He made a fist and pulled back Christian's head, exposing his neck, his modest adams apple. Christian gave an uncomfortable gasp. Jacques kissed down his neck. He let go of his hair and moved back down to his arse. Another sharp squeeze, a deeper kiss. The kettle was yet to boil but steam had started to drift from its spout. Jacques did not wish for any interruption. With little force, he turned Christian around, pushed him forward and marched him to his bedroom.
Jacques bed was large, built to accommodate a king, Clean white sheets against a dark leather bedstead. Christian was pushed backwards onto the bed. He allowed himself to be manipulated. Jacques pulled Christian further onto the bed. Pulled his torso up by his shirt then proceeded to skin Christian of his shirt, t-shirt. The belt buckle fell away in his hands, a zipping sound from the friction of the belt slipping through the belt hoops. The jeans were opened, buttons popping out, submitting to Jacques desires. The jeans were pulled down, shoes, although slightly difficult to remove were thrown on the floor, followed by the jeans. Still Christian lay on the bed, looking at this man who knew what he was doing. His command of cotton and denim was unrivalled. Now, all that lay between Jacques and his naked object of his desire was a pair of tight, turquoise blue boxer briefs. Jacques wanted to know what lay there, trapped in its cotton and nylon prison. Savouring the moment Jacques pulled on the hemming, and slipped the shorts down the bois slim frame. The white flesh made way for a short, well tended lawn of hair. Christian was no where near to a bear or a cub, but Jacques made a mental decision that that hair would have to go. The band of elastic went further down, the root of Christian's erection was revealed. Slowly, further, this cock seemed to be of a fairly satisfactory length. Eight inches down the rounded head slipped free and saluted to its saviour. The boxers once more joined the jeans, Jacques now had a naked, quivering body beneath him. He had to make this boi his.
Chapter 3 will be published next. Christian will be personally introduced to Jacque, specifically what Jacque has stowed away. If you would like to see what happens next, then send me an email to give me your feedback. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Many Thanks.