Taste of Power

Taste of Power by: Krazytop ---

Part V

"I have to admit I am a little jealous," Zane says, sitting down next to Chris. He tucks his arms behind his head and leans back. I can see the thin hairs in his pits. I swallow. Zane looks into my eyes and I make myself look back. Sharp green fractals seem to slice at me.

"You will be even more jealous seven games in when you fail to get any action," Chris says.

My heartbeat pounds. I want to keep Chris's secret, to make him happy. But what does that mean? I didn't want to do any favors for Zane—did I?

Did I want to be part of their game?

"I think you are just nervous that this faggot wants a piece of me."

Zane grips my shoulder and I shiver. My mind—which usually runs and runs—seems to sputter.

Inescapable perceptions rip people from their dreams. And Zane didn't like to let me dream. That's why he told everyone about me in the first place.

A wake-up call.

Or perhaps—he just wants one dream to swallow up another, like a sudden nightmare.

"Let's start," Chris says.

There is the sound effect of a bullet when Zane presses the button.

Chaotic noises and music intermingle.

I look up at Chris. His gaze has drifted away from me to the screen. His eyes are so beautiful. Golden brown, like sunlight. His finely cut hair flows in the draft. For a moment, I feel cold.

I won't be able to escape inside my mind today.

I kiss the inside of Chris's leg and I see him smirk. The dimples play at the edge of Chris's face; a small fire in my chest kindles. I suck harder on the inside of his leg, kissing down.

"All you do is roll," Chris says. It takes me a moment to realize he is talking to Zane--that my presence is forgettable.

My body fades out of their awareness as my thoughts fade out of mine.

I get to Chris's feet and plant slow, warm kisses, sucking in the flavor that has accumulated there.

"How could you tell a fag like that never to come back? Were you trying to break his heart?" Zane says.

"What?" Chris asks, looking down for a second.

Someone on screen yells `condor punch' and there is an explosion.

"Stop distracting me," Chris growls.

"Sorry," I mutter.

I lay my head on his lap, staring into his cock. It's just lying there, plump, mostly hard, radiating heat, pulsing occasionally when it grows slightly in length. The head is so luscious, I'm drooling. I try to control myself.

There is a bead of sweat accumulating between Chris's balls. It's getting heavier, hanging further from the skin. It's going to fall soon; it's vibrating. I get the impulse to not waste it. I stick out my tongue—and catch it.

I close my eyes and moan.

My mind is ablaze, like fire.

My tongue envelopes his meaty balls. I use my tongue to suck softly for a minute, then I start to lap like an animal, the profile of my tongue tracing in and out of the contours of his ball sack. At times it fits perfectly; at other times there is a void I have to suck dry and then suck away.

The taste ensnares me. I'm so hard it hurts.

I suck one ball into my mouth, washing it, then I switch to the other.

I hum into them, and Chris draws up, stifling a giggle.

I get lost in him.

The sounds in the background change.

I hear an announcer in the game.

"And the winner is—Psuedoknight!"

"I'm sick of you playing Psuedoknight," Zane mutters. "Can we play random characters?"

"Fine," Chris says.

I feel his grip on my hair as he pulls me off his balls.

I grunt.

Chris raises his eyebrows. "I won the first game, Travis."

"That means--I can suck your cock?"

"If you ask right, bitch," Chris growls, the light in his eyes dancing.

"Please Chris," I say, not missing a beat. "Please let me suck your hot cock."

I kiss Chris's chest, moaning. "Please make me your bitch. Please," I say, my voice growing soft.

Chris snarls. With one hand he guides his flaring cock into my begging mouth. With the other he tightens his grip on the back of my head, pushing me to take him deeper. I moan a little, but then I start to gag. I tug at my wrists reflexively and the twine slices at them.

"You need to learn to take it deeper without the whining," Chris mutters.

I nod in assent.

"Starting game two," Zane says.

Chris's hands and eyes abandon me as the game starts. I become a piece of the ambience—like the game music--an afterthought that makes the event more enjoyable. Without requiring attention, without being an imposition, I compliment the experience.

I suck softly on Chris's big cock. I want to swirl my tongue around it, but I control myself. It's like a show: the major characters are always audible and visible and active, while the extras fade into the surroundings. Everyone always thinks of themselves as the main character in their own life. But the reality is that everyone can't always be the main character.

I'm fine being a supporting role. Chris my star—the tether to my sanity.

I like the distance, sometimes.

I try to be as subtle as I can as I start to bob up and down his cock. No teeth, not even tongue—just warm wet lips and soft sucking.

Chris just sits back and lets me do all the work--building him up, and making him shine.

"We should always play video-games like this," Chris says.

"Sounds good to me," Zane says.

"I know you can take more cock, Travis. Don't be shy," Chris says.

I try to take it all and start to gag. I stay quiet and keep my motions minimal.

"Fuck yeah," Chris whispers. I feel him flex. "You better get ready to lose Zane, because I'm not giving this up."

Zane snarls.

I close my eyes. My throat calms, the motions softening.

I hear the game announcer again. "And the winner is... Princess Orange Peel!"

"Fuck," Zane says.

I feel Chris's attention return to me. I moan at the touch of his hands behind my head; I bask in the feel of his gaze upon me.

"What are you playing at, bitch?" he asks, tightening his grip on my hair. He forces me down, hard, until the entire shaft is down my throat and his balls are polishing my lips. "I know you can take it all the way down, Travis. That isn't something you just forget."

I'm gagging again, my throat filled and stretched by Chris's bone.

"Let's turn on items," Zane says.

"Whatever you think will help," Chris says, laughing. He chokes me jokingly, squeezing the spot in my neck that his cock is stretching. I sputter. His hands roam to my shoulders, rubbing them. I shiver and moan.

Zane laughs. "Be honest, Chris. Do those bitch noises turn you on?"

Chris leans back. "The fact that it is coming out of a jock boy gets me. I am an all-state wrestler. I like dominating people—putting them in their place."

"So this must be the ultimate, then."

I moan again, a little louder.

"Shut up," Chris says, running his hand through my hair and rubbing my neck. He chuckles.

"Let's start game three," Zane says.

I feel the pang of abandonment when Chris's hands disappear. I bob up and down—slowly, softly, and deeply. He wants me to take it all and I'm not going to disappoint.

I close my eyes, letting out more `bitch noises,' as they call them, but keeping them quieter. I feel Chris's elbow hit the back of my head and cringe.

"Stop moving so much. It's getting me close and it's distracting."

I hum into him. My head hurts where he nicked me. At first it was just a surprise, but now my skull is throbbing a little. I feel a single tear roll down my cheek.

"I think you hurt your bitch there," Zane says. "He's crying."

Chris snarls. "He's just emotional. He did that last time too."

"How sweet," Zane says.

"Some of these items are ridiculous," Chris mumbles.

"Hey, you agreed to turn them on," Zane says.

The heat coming off Chris is hypnotizing. He gets sweatier as the game gets more intense and I just want to melt into him; to smell him; to lick him. I think of how Zane shoved me into his armpit earlier. I wish Chris would do that.

I lose track of time; the warm hard cock stretching my face and leaking sweet masculinity. I swallow it down, sucking harder.

Chris snarls. "Fuck, bitch," he growls. "Take this hammer."

"Goddamn it," Zane says.

It occurs to me that the hammer was part of the game.

Still, it feels like Chris was talking to me.

The game announcer comes on again. "And the winner is... Bluebonic!"

I start to really look forward to the few seconds between each game, when Chris looks at me and holds me.

Chris's hands are on me again.

"My own little jock bitch, desperate to please. Flex for me," he growls.

I feel my muscles harden and shake.

"He's not a weakling," Zane says. "Girls probably think he's a hottie. Kind of a waste in a way."

"He's my hottie," Chris growls. "And I ain't wasting him right now."

"Let's start game four," Zane says.

"Travis, don't move anymore," Chris says.

It takes me a moment to realize he is talking to me. I jump a little. He laughs, rubbing me. "You are getting me too close. Just hold my whole cock down your throat and stay in that position, sucking."

The game starts.

I try to obey Chris's instructions. I get his whole cock down my throat without gagging. It's hard work to stay there--to not move--to not lick him--but I try.

All I can do is suck and swallow.

I can't see anything; my eyes are trapped in Chris's crotch.

"You fucking bitch," Chris growls. He starts bucking, fucking my throat, which makes it harder to follow his instructions.

Again, it is ambiguous who Chris is talking to.

"Fuck yeah," he whimpers, pistoning in and out of my face. "Fuck yeah."

"You losing focus?" Zane asks.

"Don't count on it," Chris growls. "Don't fucking..."

His voice fades into a rolling moan.

Chris snarls. "I'm so fucking close," he growls.

"Close to losing," Zane says.

"I don't fucking think so."

The smashing of buttons grew louder. I try to be what Chris wants me to be.

"YES!" Chris screams. He flexes and pumps his fist. "Fuck, Travis. Get me off."

"And the winner is... Kiltorby!"

I start bobbing up and down on his cock furiously. He trumps my motions quickly. Chris's hands are all over me as he slams his cock deep inside me over and over and over.

"It doesn't work that way, Chris," Zane says. "We don't wait for your convenience. Starting game five."

I feel a fury at Zane for starting the game so quickly, for ripping Chris's attention away from the precious moments he shares with me.

I feel a pang of pride for Chris. Over half the games are done. Maybe Zane won't win any after all.

I suck more precum out of Chris's big cock and he growls. "Get me to cum, bitch," he says, his voice growing dangerous. "Hurry the fuck up!"

I snivel and suck harder, bobbing faster and faster as he bucks his cock deep inside me.

"You are stalling!" Chris yells.

Zane laughs. "Rolling isn't against the rules. Don't you agree Travis? Why don't you roll your tongue around that anaconda?"

I wrap my tongue around Chris's bone. He whimpers as my tongue rolls around the edges of his cock. He is leaking profusely now. I suck down the sweet nectar, swallowing and wishing for more.

"Fuck," Chris says, his voice cracking.

I can feel Chris's game controller digging into the back of my head as he uses it to bludgeon my head further down his pole. I trace his cock with my tongue. I roll the saliva around in my mouth, then I suck hard.

"God!" he yells. "Oh god. Oh fuck."

"Looks like I just got the bang ball," Zane says. "Good luck beating me now."

It took me a moment to realize that bang balls were a part of the game too.

"Oh goddamn it," Chris says, his eyes flaring. He snarls, abandoning his controller and grabbing the sides of my head. He slams me down to the balls. "Take it Travis. Swallow it all down. I know you want to."

I open as wide as I can as he slams his cock deep into my throat again, again, and again. Then, he buries it. His cock engorges; his balls draw up; I can feel his shaft stretch as cum runs through it and towards the tip; then, suddenly, he is blasting into my throat over and over and over.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Chris growls.

On screen, there is a devastating explosion. The flash is so spectacular that I can see the light glancing off the back wall.

I swallow the swimming cum. It fills my throat; then my mouth; then leaks out the corner of my lips.

"I win," Zane says.

"And the winner is... Silver Serpent."

I feel a hand on the back of my head, pulling me away as I try to suck down the last drops of Chris's cum.

Zane laughs. "Guess what faggot," he says.

He rips me away from Chris.

"You are mine."

He pulls me toward him by my hair. My knees drag across the concrete. I crawl toward Zane to avoid the pain.

I collapse at his feet between his legs.

Zane shoves my head into his foot. "Kiss it," he growls.

My lips graze his foot. I suck softly.

He grabs me by the back of the head and pulls me up his leg. My mouth hangs open, and I can taste his skin.

He is muskier than Chris—dirtier, saltier.

I get to his thighs. Zane pulls his jock down.

I look into his big balls—then stare at his fat, glinting cock. As it stretches, it coils slightly like a corkscrew—it isn't perfectly straight. A crown of foreskin shields the head.

Zane slaps my face and laughs. "You are at my mercy faggot."

Chris finally gathers himself enough to start the sixth game.

"Of course it's Lowrule Temple," Chris says.

"Naturally," Zane says. He nudges my face with his fist. "Look into my eyes."

I look up at him. The green eyes are calm, powerful, and alight. He raises his eyebrows and I shiver.

"If you do everything I say—and have even half a brain--I'm nothing but good news. I can protect you. You can exist under my dominion. But if you cross me—there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?"

I look down and Zane slaps my face.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," I mumble.

"Suck my cock, faggot," he snarls.

He shoves his cock into my face, rubbing it against my lip.

I gulp and bite my tongue. My heartbeat feels lost.

Zane grips my temple, digging his nails in.

"I SAID TO FUCKING SUCK IT, FAGGOT! "

I open my mouth a little and he burrows in, stretching my lips open.

It is plump; my mouth and lips have a hard time broadening that wide. I must look vulgar with a cock stretching my face from inside my cheeks. Zane runs his hand under his balls and rubs the sweat over and under my nose. I breathe in and close my eyes.

"I know you like that, faggot," Zane whispers.

I look up at him and suck softly.

"All you are doing is running away and rolling!" Chris growls.

Zane shrugs. "No rules against that, right? Besides, it lets me keep one hand free."

He slaps my face again and I whimper, looking up into his eyes. He sneers at me.

Like the rest of him, his cock tastes muskier than Chris's.

"Come on, Travis," he growls. "Let's hear those bitch noises."

I moan and Zane laughs.

"You aren't even trying to win!" Chris yells. "You are just drawing this out."

Zane's hand tightens around the back of my head. "Astute as always, Chris," he says.

Zane pushes my head all the way down his cock. I try to keep my gaze up at his eyes as a tear rolls down my cheek.

"There's a little bit of something under the hood. Maybe you can sweep it out with your tongue."

I swirl my tongue around and keep my gaze on Zane's sharp eyes.

He glares at me. "Swallow it."

I do. It tastes dirty. I cough until his shaft falls out of my mouth. Zane grabs his cock and uses it to slap me across my face.

"You need to learn better manners," Zane growls.

"Sorr—" I mutter, but before I can finish, he shoves his cock back in.

"That's a good faggot."

I look up into his dancing eyes, and he glowers back, gripping the back of my head.

I start bobbing up and down on his cock, getting in rhythm.

"God, I missed this," Zane whispers. He pets my hair and I close my eyes.

"You aren't the only one who can get the bang balls," Chris says.

I lose myself in Zane. My gaze falls on his tattoos, his sharp, cutting muscles that twist the shadows, but mostly on his eyes; his divine eyes that make me feel powerless.

"You lose," Chris growls.

There are more explosions on screen.

The announcer speaks up again.

"And the winner is... Hilda!"

I feel Chris's hand on the back of my head, pulling me away from Zane.

"Get back over here, bitch. And no more items, Zane."

"You know I feel naked without items, Chris."

"So?"

"So—it's only fair if Travis feels naked, too. If you want items turned off—strip your fag down."

Chris locks eyes with me and I nod.

"Good boy," Zane says.

He pulls my boxers off of me roughly. The force of it sends me to the floor.

Chris shakes his head. "He is actually kind of hung... What a waste of a dick like that."

Zane smirks. "Didn't you say you liked dominating men? Taking down jocks that girls would go for?"

"I guess I do," Chris says.

Chris is hard again. How is that possible?

I crawl back between his legs and look up at my dream guy. His eyes are blazing.

"This is where you belong, Travis," he growls.

His cock falls into my lips and I feel no reason to argue.

I slurp it down until it plugs my throat.

"Last game," Zane mutters.

"Face it Zane. You missed your chance to get off. One win in six games has to feel pretty bleak."

Zane snorts. "Just one roll of the die," he says. "Nothing impossible."

I nuzzle into Chris's crotch, sucking softly, and close my eyes.

He said I belong here.

I hope he is right.

His cock pulses, but he doesn't cum again. It's just sensitive right now.

Chris groans, relaxing.

"At some level, you know I'm the top dog. I'm the strongest. You might be a good wrestler, but you can never beat me. Never even really threaten to beat me. I don't know why you think today will be any different."

Zane clicks his tongue. "It's not always about the body. It's about the mind. And mine is the most intimidating."

"Then why can't you beat me at this video game? It's all about getting inside your opponent's head."

"I already did beat you," Zane says softly. "You just don't seem to get it yet."

"That feels good, Travis," Chris mutters. "Just keep at it."

I can tell the game is close. Intense. Brutal.

It goes on for some time. My heart begins to skip.

Eventually, Zane jumps up, screaming.

"YES!" he shrieks. He pumps his fist and turns toward us. "Get back over here, faggot."

I crawl back over to between Zane's legs.

Chris bolts up. He switches the game off before it can even announce who won.

I kneel silently on my knees, looking up into Zane's fierce eyes.

"You know—I like how you begged for Chris's cock. I want to hear that kind of enthusiasm."

He runs a finger down my cheek where he slapped it before.

"Please, Zane," I mumble. "Please let me suck your cock. Please let me get you off. Please sir."

"You want to be my faggot?" Zane growls.

I don't know what to do.

"Please Zane," I whimper. "Please let me be your faggot."

He nudges my balls with his foot and I grunt.

"Please Zane," I say softly. "Please."

He laughs, slapping me again.

"Please," I say my voice breaking. "Please," I whisper.

He grabs my balls and squeezes.

I tremble. He twists, hardening his grip, and I start to cry silently.

"You are mine," he growls.

I nod.

He releases me and I fall into him.

"Suck my fucking cock, faggot," he growls.

I take him balls-deep.

His hands are on my ears, helping him pump in and out of my face.

"You are my fucking faggot," Zane growls.

I whimper as he fucks my face harder and harder.

My balls throb; my wrists ache; my head pounds; my heart stings.

I put up no resistance as he slams his cock into my used throat and raw lips. I start to suck on him, moaning.

He gives me no warning.

Wave after wave of thick, almost juicy cum torrents out of his cock, flooding my throat, my mouth, and my lips. It's relentless—I'm swamped; I'm enveloped.

I look into his blank eyes and I know to drink it down.

His frown softens and he massages my ears and hair.

He holds me in place when his cock starts to soften, and I look up at him, confused.

He raises his eyebrows and I start to panic as something else starts to come out of his cock. It is sudden—the flow starts one moment and ends the next—just a little teaser.

Warm, acrid, sour.

My gaze flashes over to Chris for a moment, and I wonder if I should tell him what just happened.

I look back into Zane's eyes, which are swimming with shadows and light. His eyebrows raise into his hair; his smile goes black.

"Swallow," he commands.

I swish it around my mouth for a second—then obey.

There's no doubt about it--it's his piss.

I expected it to taste bad, but it doesn't.

It tastes like power.

It chips the cum away as it goes down rough.

"Good faggot," he whispers, rubbing my hair.

I close my eyes; all my muscles have tightened—strained.

I am cumming. Without touching myself, I am cumming.

"Oh god!" I whisper, my throat cracking.

Zane pulls my face into his big ballsack and I breathe in his smell as I shoot violently--all over the ground.

When I relax, Zane pushes my face into the puddle of cum on the floor.

"Lick that up, faggot."

I don't look up at him again until the floor is clean.

Zane is beaming. His sharp muscles are flexing and his pecs are pushed up triumphantly. His eyes are whirling as he grabs my hair and pulls my head around playfully.

I steal a glance at Chris. His mouth is half-open.

"What do you say we let the faggot play a game?" Zane asks.

"Fine," Chris says shortly, flipping the system back on and plugging in a third controller.

Zane unties my hands and I massage my wrists.

"The name of the game is Big Bang Brothers. Ever heard of it?" Zane asks.

"I think so," I say softly.

We select our characters.

"Blink."

"Ass Kong."

"Mokimon Trainer."

I try to get a handle of the controls. I can cycle through three mokimon with this character, but I have difficulty getting an attack in edge-wise. Blink, a super hero elf-thing controlled by Chris, keeps grabbing me with his sticky chain claw. Then Ass Kong, a huge monkey controlled by Zane, walks over and claps the shit out of my face.

At one point, while Blink is chaining me down and Ass Kong is swinging his fist around in an intimidating circle next to Marizard's grill, Zane turns to my ear.

"Come over to my house tomorrow, faggot. Six O'clock. 428 Cuyahoga Drive. Don't be late. And don't you dare miss it."

My naked ass twitches.

Ass Kong lets a fearsome punch fly and Marizard blasts off again, disappearing at the edge of the screen into a little shining star.

Game over for me.

After Blink levels Ass Kong, Zane shrugs, then pulls my face into his armpit again. I soften into him.

"You like that, don't you faggot?"

I just grunt.

"Travis, go home," Chris growls.

Zane lets go of me.

"When should I come back?" I ask.

"Why even ask?" he says, his eyes shimmering like cider under firelight. "You can't listen for shit."

"Chris," I whisper.

"Have I ever even said you could come back?"

I turn to Zane.

He shrugs. "It's Chris's house. Chris's rules. Don't expect me to threaten his alpha male status."

"Can I have my boxers now?" I ask.

Zane laughs. "I am going to go with `no' on that one. It's not like you gave us our jockstraps back."

"I didn't steal your jockstraps!" I yell defiantly.

"Fine. I didn't steal your boxers then. Best of luck getting home," Zane says, smirking.

I shake my head. "Chris, you still have my phone. My wallet. My keys."

"Right," Chris says. He opens a cabinet and procures those objects. "There are three objects, and three of us. I think it is only fair that we divide them up evenly. How does that sound, Travis?"

I wordlessly grab my phone.

Zane grabs my wallet and starts emptying the cash out of it. "Fifty-two bucks. Nice."

Chris spins the keychain around his finger. The triangle vanishes in front of my eyes.

"Now get out."

My mouth opens and closes a few times. Then, I walk away, butt-naked.

Zane whistles as I leave.

I slam the cellar door behind me.

I'm freezing cold; the air is on my abs; my fingers; my toes; my balls; my dick. I throw the raincoat around me and don my hat.

I run over to the forest in a second. When I'm deep enough in that I know I am out of sight, I lean my head against a tree and close my eyes.

Slowly, as my thoughts creep back, I begin to worry more and more that I am in way over my head.

I sink down against the tree till I am sitting against it, burying my face in my hands.

Why do I feel like this?

What the hell is happening to me?

--- Feedback keeps me in the mood to write and brainstorm and is always appreciated. :) email: krazytop@gmail.com tumblr: krazytop.tumblr.com