Chain Male

Chad slid into the desk on the back row and opened his textbook. He was just sitting in on the World History class and didn't want to make a nuisance of himself. He rubbed a sticky spot on his fingers left from spending the afternoon repairing books. The liquid plastic rolled up into a little ball, without taking his skin with it.

He watched the students come in. Most of them were traditional students, the kind he saw every day asking for books on Thoreau and chemistry, psychology and Augustine. There was a couple of older people, taking advantage of the free tuition to those over seventy, and a young man with round glasses, a neatly trimmed goatee and a short ponytail.

Chad watched him. He was probably taking night classes to get the degree he couldn't afford right after high school. Chad watched his hands, callused and cut up, take out the text, a notebook and pen. He wondered what the guy did for a living. It didn't look like he was a cashier or telemarketer or some kind of office worker. A nasty mental voice wondered if the guy had the brainpower for college. Chad shushed it.

Dr. Rea came in and passed out the syllabus and started the "What to expect from this course" lecture. The cute guy's pen took very steady notes. Clearly he had some notion of how to study and learn. Chad didn't bother with notes. He was just here to listen.

Chad found he wasn't doing much listening. He was watching the cute ponytail guy, studying him. He catalogued the man's features like he would one of his books. Ponytail chewed his pen. He wore a blue polo shirt with jeans, both so new Chris could almost see the sizing in them. He must have thought class was worth dressing up for. A bracelet of heavy copper links weighed down one slim wrist. A nasty cut along the heel of his right hand escaped both edges of the bandage.

Chad stifled a sigh. He was doing the same thing he always did when he took a class. He was picking out a guy, crushing on him, and would probably never even speak to him the whole semester.

Ponytail guy gathered his books and left with the rest of the class at the end. Chad headed back to the library to finish his split shift. He watched the guy head for the parking lot. Maybe he'd find out the guy's name next week.

"Until then I'll call you Byron. Maybe I can be your Shelley," Chad whispered as he shut the library door and settled down at the reference desk.

Chad found the next week passing him by in a haze. He went to work. He went home. He ate, when he remembered. He masturbated, his nightly routine adding a morning session and sometimes one in the middle of the day, if it didn't interfere with work. The fantasies that accompanied these had not changed from his usual, but now the handsome pirate who ravished him, the sensual sheik who bore him to the silken bed, the leatherman who slung him up against the wall, now they had a face. He submitted to the wild desires, the savage plunderings of his dream-men with rapt abandon, coming as hard at the fourth repetition of a fantasy as he had with the first.

Tuesday class came around and he found his seat early, the better to watch for Byron. Byron came in and this time Chad listened to the roll call. Jason O'Neill. Not as nice as Byron, but a solid sort of name. The cut on the heel of Jason's hand looked better, but he was sporting a nasty burn across his left knuckles.

Poor baby. Chad wanted to kiss the wounds all better. He wondered what Jason did for a living that left him all battered and burnt. He imagined taking the well-shaped hands in his, kissing each finger and blowing gently across the burn to take out some of the fire.

He barely noticed the class had started. The talk of the ancient Egyptians washed over him in a wave. All he could do was watch Jason's poor hurt hands write out the notes from class. Once he saw Jason flex the burned fingers with ginger reluctance. Clearly Jason needed someone to take care of him.

"Greece next week and you need to get me your paper topics at that session as well, class," Dr. Rea said as he dismissed them.

Jason headed for the parking lot again. Chad sighed. Another week of ponytailed ravishers and his hand. He wished he had the nerve to talk to Jason. But he shouldn't hit on students, not when he was university staff.

On Thursday, Chad worked the closing shift. He was keeping an eye on a kid who was working far too enthusiastically. He strolled past the computer carrels to check what the young man was doing. If the guy was surfing questionable sites, Chad would have to boot him for a week. To his surprise, it wasn't porn but rather an electrical schematic. When the kid ran virtual current through his design, a light bulb flared and exploded. The student sighed, consulted his text and started adding resistors.

Chad sat back down and waited, doodling on a piece of scrap paper. He snapped back to reality when a couple of books clunked on the desk.

"Hi." The greeting was businesslike, then Jason's face melted into a smile. "Oh, hey, hi. You're the guy from the back row, right? You on work-study?"

Chad felt his cheeks flush. "Hi. Didn't think I'd be remembered, back row and all."

"I see you every week, sitting back there." Jason shuffled a little. "Anyway, I'm needing a book on," he hesitated and cleared his throat, then spat it out, "gay Greeks."

Chad remembered the paper topic was self-selected. He put on his professional face, hiding his interest in Jason now that he knew Jason was at least interested in historical gayness. He pulled up the electronic catalogue. "Sure. Pretty sure we have a couple."

Jason turned out to be a chatterer. "I mean I know Alexander the Great was. Weren't Socrates and Plato lovers?" He watched the catalogue bring up a couple titles.

Chad shrugged. "I think so. I'm not up on my ancient Greeks, though."

Jason quickly copied the call numbers. "I'll take what I can get. Wanna help me find these?"

Surely he hadn't meant that to sound like an invitation to steal kisses in the HQ section. "Yeah, I think Hubbard's
Homosexuality in Greece and Rome will be your best bet."

Jason followed him up into the stacks. They made it to the HQ section and, as Chad reached for the book, he felt Jason press close to him. Warm breath played over his ear.

"So what gays are you up on? Or up for?" he whispered.

Chad fumbled the book he was pulling from the shelf, but caught it before it could hit him in the face. "That's a secret," he whispered, wishing he had Jason's boldness.

Jason laughed, a private sound that wouldn't carry into the next shelves. "Can you date students? I know you're gay because you didn't deck me for that question."

Chad glanced around out of worry. "I shouldn't. But I'm not faculty, just staff. And you're not working for me or needing a grade from me."

Jason smiled a little too triumphantly for Chad's liking. "Want to get a coffee? After you get me set up with gay Greeks, since the only ones I really know are Xena and Gabrielle." The smile melted into a wicked grin that Chad knew would play in his fantasies for a long while. "Gay Greeks for a gay geek."

"Sure," Chad agreed, not certain if he meant the coffee or the books. He pulled two more that might help off the shelf.

"When's good?"

"After class tomorrow? I have to work until one tonight."

"Damn, that's late. So, let's hit the Java Cup after class. I'll buy," Jason said, taking the books and planting a light kiss on Chad's neck, "just 'cause you're so cute. See ya." He vanished down the stairs before Chad could catch his breath.

Chad stared down the stairs after him, his neck tingling and his breath coming much too fast. He composed himself before he had to go down and face the work-study student.

Chad made it home in a daze, not remembering the rest of his shift, not thinking of anything except Jason's face and that sexy little kiss. He locked the door and stripped, tangling in his jeans and shirtsleeves in his haste, unable to wait any longer.

He didn't bother with a shower, just shoved the notebook full of printed net-porn off his pillow and threw himself on his bed, cock in hand. He ran his fingers over the place where Jason had kissed him and shot over his hand at the second stroke.

He lay still for a second, catching his breath, before he reached for a tissue. His cock hadn't gone quiet. It still bobbed, mostly hard, as if beckoning him back for another round. He set the alarm and turned out the light before he plunged headlong into his favorite fantasy.

He was on his knees in front of a pair of highly polished black boots. He had done the polishing, first with a rag and then with his tongue. Black leather pants tucked into the top of the boots creaked softly as his top circled him, tapping him here and there with a crop to correct his position. He didn't dare look up.

In the real world, he slid his fingertips over the length of his cock, teasing it awake. Despite the frequent workouts of the last week, it responded as if he hadn't practically shot in his pants five minutes ago.

He waited as his top circled him, looking at him. He stared at the bare concrete between his spread knees. His hard cock throbbed in its ring, begging for release, and his balls dangled vulnerably only an inch or two from the cold floor. His knees ached from the concrete and his thigh muscles burned from the position, but he held it.

Sharp clamps bit into his nipples until the smallest passage of air across their tips stung like a flick of his top's crop. Sometimes, his top would knock the clamps off with the crop. Chad shivered. He flexed his fingers where they were folded together and cuffed behind his back.

He kept up the slow tease with his fingertips. This fantasy was always about deprivation until he could take no more.

A sharp crack of the crop across his shoulders shook him. The cool air of the dungeon soothed it to a sting. A hand in a fingerless black leather glove lifted his chin a little, the thumb teasing his lower lip. When he licked the pad of the thumb, his top seized his hair and yanked his head back.

He looked up and saw a nicely shaped torso, smoother than usual for this fantasy, and Jason's face grinning wickedly down, his blue eyes burning with mischief.

"Sexy slut," Jason hissed at him.

He gripped his cock and jacked, not caring about the deprivation part anymore.

"I'm going to make you suck my cock before I bend you over the horse and fuck you until you beg to come, boy," Jason threatened.

"If that pleases you, sir," Chad whispered.

"Then I'm going to beat you, put lots of pretty stripes on your sweet pale ass. Then see how far up your asshole I can fit my arm."

Chad came as fantasy-Jason closed his right hand in a fist and then slid the other hand over it and down his arm. He blinked against the light coming in from the street outside his window, wiped up, curled up under the acrylic throw, and fell asleep imagining how top-Jason would taste if he ever managed to get to the cock-sucking part of the fantasy.

The next day dragged interminably. Chad came in at ten, as usual after a late night shift. He couldn't focus on coding MARC records into the computer, so he worked on filling interlibrary loan orders. When he realized he'd typed "Truth or Consequences New Mexico, consequences please" on a mailing label, he gave that up as a bad job and shelved the returned books.

He ate a tasteless sandwich from the campus grill for supper and loitered near the door of the building just to see what Jason drove. He was half-expecting some big black American made muscle car, a Mustang or Corvette, but grinned to see Jason get out of a little dark blue vintage Beetle. The engine purred in a way that told Chad Jason worked on it regularly, but one headlight was out. He ducked inside before Jason saw him, but not before he heard Jason cussing at the car.