Page 35 of Now Comes the Dark

Roman had visited the city centre sex shop on his lunch break yesterday to buy his costume for the evening. Given the excitement his backless pants had triggered in Mallon earlier in the week, Roman had known exactly what to choose—a pair of red briefs, cut away at the back to expose his arse. They weren’t quite a jock strap. From the front, it appeared he was wearing a regular pair of pants, but when he turned around, there were his buttocks in their naked glory. The briefs went perfectly with his black, leather walking boots.

He bagged up his clothes and handed them to the attendant in exchange for a numbered wrist band and a token.

“That will get you one free drink,” the attendant, a friendly looking middle-aged bear told him. “Anything else, run a tab on your wrist band and settle the bill when you collect your stuff at the end of the night.”

Roman thanked him, familiar with the process, and moved through to the main bar.

It was packed. The warmth and scent from so many bare bodies was intoxicating. He’d never seen the place so full, not even on Saturdays. He wondered if the underwear theme was the most popular of their events? Or had the implicit danger of taking a stranger home for sex brought the crowd in? It might not be private, but in here they could fuck whoever they wanted, knowing there was safety in numbers.

He pressed his way to the bar, sliding against naked flesh, already slick and smooth with sweat. Heavy techno blared fromthe speakers, and the porn that played on the TV screens was hardcore fetish stuff, all leather and stretched holes. When it was his turn to be served, he exchanged the token for a vodka and Coke, the most expensive drink he could get for free. Later, when he had to pay for his drinks, he would switch to the cheaper beer.

He found a space against the wall where he could lean on the shelf to have his vodka. It was against the rules to take glasses and bottles up to the cruising areas.

The soft material of his underpants was surprisingly stimulating against his crotch. It grazed his cock and balls like silk. He had tried them on briefly last night, but wearing them properly for the first time, walking and moving around, was an unexpected thrill. Despite the cold outside, he’d had a semi-erection all the way here, and now he was in the club, it had grown to a raging boner. Together with the exposure of his arse, they were the sexiest pants he’d ever worn.

Eyes were on him. Hungry faces watched from all directions, checking out his cock and butt. Roman took a deep swallow.Let them look. Mallon treated him like the hottest young man in Blyham. Displayed and aroused in his new pants, he felt that way, too. The same men wouldn’t have looked twice at him in his student days, when he was thin and awkward, with a gaunt face that didn’t really suit him. Other gays bitched about getting old, about their need for Botox and other treatments to fight time, but Roman knew he had gotten better with every year.

At thirty-eight, Mallon was living proof that men could get more handsome and desirable as they aged.

Roman was just beginning. He would embrace maturity, not fight it.

He knocked off his drink, unable to contain himself any longer. He’d been hot with anticipation from the second he’d woken up that morning.

He pressed back into the crowd, pushing towards the stairs. Anonymous hands groped as he passed. They grabbed his hard cock, patted his buttocks, someone was bold enough to slip their fingers into the crack, aiming for his hole. He ignored the unwanted attention. His exposure gave them an invitation to look and nothing else. They could keep their dirty hands to themselves. He shook them off and moved on.

The upper playroom area was even busier than the bar, but it was bigger, making it easier to move around. Bare, sweating bodies were entwined, heaving together, illuminated by the sleazy red lighting. Though the techno music played, it was not as loud up here. Cries of ecstasy, guttural pleasure and the persistent slap of skin against skin dominated.

The room reeked of sex, of sweat and cum, arse and poppers. He breathed it in deep, intoxicated by the pungent baseness of it all.

There were eyes all over him, just like below. With his chin held high, Roman prowled through the massive room, stepping around men as they kissed and groped each other. More hands reached for his arse and tried to grab his bulge. When he moved away from them, they didn’t follow. It was a clear rule of The Viaduct that all attention should be warranted, and no meant no without exception.

The sling had a sizeable crowd gathered around it. Heads were bowed, watching, and the jerking of their shoulders gave away what was happening. He couldn’t see the recipient of all that interest, but the suspension chains swung back and forth, and someone clearly shouted, “Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me more.”

Roman’s cock swelled harder than ever. He wondered what it would be like submit so thoroughly, to surrender his body for the pleasure of so many men—to take them on without a care for who they were or what they looked like, all comers welcome. It was a dark fantasy, one he’d gotten off to more than once. Hewas no stranger to threesomes, hooking up with couples when the time and combination was right, but he doubted he was uninhibited enough to act out his gangbang dream.

Not that he needed to when a man like Mallon could fuck him harder and better than all those guys put together.

He continued across the floor, making for the vaults. The corridor was thronged on either side. Guys edged the walls, presenting themselves, their faces filled with expectation. They stared at Roman as he passed, tugging their cocks through their underpants, showing how turned on they were. The sexual tension was heavy, almost palpable. Roman’s cock strained against the pouch of his new pants. He’d created a damp patch of pre-cum already and hadn’t engaged in a single act yet.

When strong arms wrapped around his torso, a chest pressed against his back, a hard cock against his buttocks, he didn’t resist. The touch and smell were already so familiar. He leaned into the man who held him.

“What kept you?” Mallon growled in his ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth.

Roman shuddered. The place was sweltering, and still his body rippled with gooseflesh.

He arched his neck, turning his head towards Mallon. He reached behind to touch him, discovering bare flesh. Mallon had chosen to ignore the underwear theme in favour of full nudity. Mallon pulled him tight, pressing their bodies together.

“I like what you’re wearing,” Mallon said, and licked the sweat from his neck.

“I wore it for you,” Roman gasped.

Mallon’s fingers were on his nipples. He rolled and squeezed, sending pleasure all through his torso as the tips hardened to his touch. Through half-lidded eyes he caught the attention they were drawing. Guys turned to watch them, stroking their cocks with open intent. One man, thick-set and completelynaked except for a leather mask that covered his entire head, took himself in both hands, squeezing his balls with one hand while working his shaft with the other. Another man tugged his erection free of his boxer-briefs. He licked his palm before getting to work on his dick, staring at Roman the whole time.

It shouldn’t have been so arousing, but it was—being watching, knowing they were turning these other guys on.

Mallon steered him to one of the arched chambers. It was empty inside, apart from a padded bench. There was a curtain that could be drawn for privacy. Roman tingled with excitement when Mallon left it open.

“Do you want them to see us?” Mallon asked.

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