Cambridge Men

Henry drew in a deep breath. Could he say those few monumental syllables? Would his lips know how to form the sounds? But he found that the act of saying the words was, physically, no different than stringing together any other sequence of syllables: "I want it," skipped off the tongue with surprising ease. "Please," he added faintly, almost as an afterthought.

Enzo smiled. "Very well." He loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt and vest. "Have you ever been with a man who really wanted you before?"

Henry shook his head. The only affairs he had ever had were with men whose bodies were for hire.

"It is an entirely different experience," Enzo explained. His hand moved around Henry's scalp, took hold of a fistful of Henry's hair, and tilted his head upward. Henry let him do it. Enzo leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips, deep and full. An electric power pulsated through his lips. It was not a possessive power, not exactly; this power was kinetic, potent, exuberant. Henry absorbed it like water. "When you're with a man who wants you for his own pleasure," Enzo continued, "he shows you all the ways he likes your body." As he said the words, he traced an invisible line with his finger along the smooth, symmetrical contours of Henry's face. He kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. He licked each facial feature with a hungry, curious tongue, as if he wanted to consume Henry's beauty, to taste every morsel.

Enzo helped Henry to remove his jacket and tie, and began undoing the buttons of Henry's shirt. His hands snaked under the shirt, grasping the sturdy flesh underneath. Enzo's touch was rough, squeezing and scratching the contours of Henry's chest. He learned its topography deeply and thoroughly, grasping each curve and valley of Henry's torso, feeling its strength and its pliancy, its hardness and its softness. He undid Henry's belt, then slipped his trousers down his legs. Henry's skin came alive in each place Enzo touched. He began to lose himself in Enzo's consumptive zeal, and he closed his eyes and let Enzo envelop him. Enzo removed his clothes as well; Henry felt his lean, muscular chest press against his own, his naked legs straddling him as he lay on the carpet.

A sharp pain rent through his left cheek. Henry gasped and opened his eyes. Enzo had delivered a precise and painful slap. The pain flashed across his eyes, sharpening his senses and rousing his attention. "That was for earlier," Enzo grinned. "The next one's just for you, if you want it," he continued. He held up his hand, ready to strike again, waiting for Henry's approval.

Henry nodded. He did not know why, but for some reason he did want it.

"I want to hear you say it out loud," Enzo pressed. "If you want it, tell me you want it."

Henry hesitated. "I..." he began... "I want it," Henry admitted.

Enzo slapped him again, this time more forcefully, on the same spot as before. Henry drew in a sharp breath as a neat imprintation of pain cleaved into him, swelling, then subsiding. Henry shuddered with the thrilling novelty of the sensation. It was rousing and arousing, waking him up and awakening his desire. "Do you like it?" Enzo asked.

Henry nodded.

"Say it."

"I like it," Henry admitted.

"Very good."

Enzo pinned Henry's hands down to the floor and kissed him, penetrating his mouth with a curious tongue. His hands traveled down Henry's arms, then ran up and down his chest. His fingernails traced lines across Henry's torso, showing up pink on his pale flesh. With a quick, sharp movement, he slapped Henry again on the chest. Henry moaned as the pain played across his chest. Enzo slapped Henry again, this time across his right cheek, then twice more on his chest. He twisted Henry's nipples, drawing out a biting, cathartic pain. Henry whispered his assent. He felt alive in his skin, more aware than he had ever been of the fact that he had a skin, and that its pain and its pleasure were being deftly manipulated by Enzo's steady hands. Enzo's slaps began to increase in frequency. Henry felt the pain of each slap swell, then intensify as Enzo agitated the sensitive flesh with a second blow, a third, a fourth. He gritted his teeth. His moans turned to whimpers. He found that he was gasping each time he breathed.

"Do you still like it?" Enzo asked.

"Yes!" Henry exclaimed.

Enzo removed Henry's underwear, revealing his erection. "I'll say you do!" Enzo grinned and struck him again, hard, with both hands on each of his inner thighs. Henry flinched and drew in a sharp gasp. Enzo struck Henry's thigh again, this time with a closed fist; it was a deep, full pain that rent through his leg. Henry groaned deeply. Then, a flash of pleasure as Enzo ran a hand over his cock.

"Yes," Henry moaned, then the moan turned into a gasp as Enzo punched his other thigh. With one hand, Enzo began to play with Henry's cock, while with the other, he continued to deliver blows all over Henry's body--his thighs, his chest, his face. The sensations of pleasure and pain competed for primacy in Henry's body, and he gave himself to feeling everything, to experiencing every contrast, every gradient of ecstasy and agony. Enzo grabbed Henry roughly by the chin and kissed him, channeling his exuberant power through his lips into Henry's. Henry melted into him. His hips moved up and down involuntarily as Enzo masturbated him.

Enzo removed his own underwear and positioned himself so that he was straddling Henry's neck and shoulders. Henry looked up at his cock. It was sturdy and girthy, and fully erect. "Open your mouth," Enzo told him. Henry obeyed. With one hand on his hair, Enzo guided Henry's head toward his member. Henry took to the task enthusiastically, drawing Enzo's staff into his mouth, licking it, feeling its curves and its imperfections. Enzo pushed his cock deeper into Henry's throat. Henry gagged and jerked his head away. "Too deep for you?"

"I could try again," Henry offered. He brought his mouth back to Enzo's cock and continuing moving his head up and down its length, taking it into himself with a determined appetite. Enzo held him by the hair with one hand. Slowly, he thrust himself deeper into Henry's throat, claiming space for himself, gently but persistently. Henry relaxed the muscles at the back of his throat. He welcomed Enzo into him. Enzo filled his mouth and his throat, blocking his breath, and he closed his eyes and shuddered with the intensity of the feeling.

"Open your eyes," Enzo told him. Henry did so. "I want you to look me in the eye as you suck me." Henry looked up at him, straight into his dark, piercing eyes. Enzo moved his pelvis backward an inch. "Breathe in through your nose," he told Henry. Henry obeyed. Enzo moved his hips forward, blocking Henry's windpipe again. He held fast to Henry's hair with his hand. Henry lay there, immobilized, the breath building up in his lungs as he stared Enzo in the eye and waited for him to release him, to let him breathe again. With deliberate care, Enzo slid his cock out of Henry's throat. "Now breathe out," he said. Henry breathed out. Before he could draw in a second breath, Enzo thrust himself down Henry's throat, blocking his breath. "Keep looking at me," Enzo implored. Henry's chest burned, but he did not try to jerk his head away. He stayed still, caught in Enzo's gaze, filled with Enzo to the bursting point. Time seemed to slow. Each second passed by as if in slow motion. Finally, Enzo relented. He slid his cock out of Henry's mouth, and Henry coughed and gasped.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Oh!"

"Again?"

"Yes!" Henry opened his mouth. Enzo thrust his cock into it, then began to pump in and out at an accelerating pace. One hand held fast to Henry's hair; the other fastened around Henry's nose, preventing him from breathing through his nose. Henry fought back his gag reflex. He kept his eyes trained on Enzo, locked in his gaze. A strange calm was sweeping over him. There was no pressure of decision making, no need to think beyond any moment but the present. He had rescinded control of even his most basic faculty: his breath. There was nothing for it but to give himself up to Enzo's mercy. As the pressure built up in his lungs, it became harder to resist pulling his head away. His muscles tensed in agitation. Enzo seemed to sense that he was nearing his limit. He held fast to Henry's head and stayed inside of him for two more, long, deliberate seconds, before finally releasing him.

"Breathe in," he ordered. Henry followed the instruction. He lingered, waiting to be told to exhale. Enzo looked down at him, an expression of amusement brightening his face. "Breathe out," he said finally. Henry breathed out. "And you can breathe when you want now."

Henry breathed heavily, gathering his thoughts. Enzo sat back and waited for him to say something. "How did you know how to do that?" Henry asked presently.

"I had a lover back in Italy," Enzo replied. "He taught me every trick I know."

"What else did he teach you?"

Enzo grinned and gave Henry a significant look. "How to fuck a man and make him like it."

Henry's heart raced. He offered Enzo a nervous smile.

"Do you like being fucked?" Enzo ran his hand through Henry's hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

"I don't know," Henry admitted.

"You've never done it before?"

Henry shook his head.

"With me, you'll like it," Enzo assured him.

"Okay."

"Get on your knees. Head on the ground." Henry followed the instructions. Enzo held a hand next to Henry's mouth. "Spit on it," he instructed. Henry did so. "You'll want more that," he chuckled. "Remember where this hand is going? Go on, get my fingers wet." Henry spat on Enzo's hand again, then wrapped his mouth around the fingers for good measure. "Good."

Enzo brought his fingers to Henry's hole and began encircling it, teasing it, perusing its outline. "One thing I've learned," he said, "is that the body is a much more flexible instrument than we give it credit for. With time, patience, and an open mind, anything is possible." His finger pressed deeper, then retreated when he felt Henry's resistance. He repeated this action several times, and each time he found room for his finger deeper and deeper in Henry's hole. "Relax," he beguiled. "Let me in." Henry tried to obey, to make himself soft under Enzo's touch, to yield to his persistent fingers. Enzo began rubbing up and down Henry's cock with his hand, coaxing moans and sighs out of Henry, who felt flickers of pleasure course through his body at Enzo's touch.

Patience indeed, Henry thought. Enzo worked Henry's cavity with such patient, masterful technique that his steady penetration felt like the most natural action he could perform. Henry found himself wanting to welcome Enzo's finger into him, to draw him further and further down. One finger turned to two, and a shudder ran through Henry as he felt himself being stretched out. "Very good," Enzo whispered. "You're almost ready." Henry felt Enzo's cock tease the edges of his hole. His eyes widened, eager and fearful in equal measure. "Now, here is what I want you to do," Enzo said. "Slide back onto my cock. You can go at your own pace. Take all the time you need."

"Okay," Henry acquiesced, a tremor in his voice. He moved his hips back a few centimeters, trying to relax his passage and give room to Enzo's cock. He gasped as Enzo's girth stretched the muscles around his hole. Enzo grabbed a fistful of his hair and raised Henry's head up so that he was on his hands and knees. He pulled Henry's head back, encouraging him to move his body further back onto his cock. Henry yielded, inching backward, pressing deeper. "Ohhh," he groaned in a deep voice.

"Good, very good," Enzo encouraged. "One more inch to go."

Henry whimpered. With effort, he slid his pelvis backwards, feeling Enzo's cock fill him. He dwelled in the sensation of having Enzo deep inside him and the enthralling sense of vulnerability that it brought. He felt undone, turned inside out, every inch of him discovered.

"Now move back and forward," Enzo instructed. "Fuck yourself. Make it good for me."

Henry took to the task readily. He moved forward, giving a deep moan and a shudder, feeling Enzo's cock tease the walls of his channel, then gave a sharp gasp as he moved back onto it again. With effort, he breathed in and out, gasping and groaning, feeling as if he had to manually remind himself how to breathe. He repeated the motion, back onto Enzo's cock and forward again. The intensity of the sensation rent through his entire body, tingling from his core through his fingertips. With each movement in and out, it became easier to bear; his body became more flexible, opening to Enzo.

Enzo began to move his own pelvis, thrusting in and out with smooth, vigorous thumps. Henry moaned to the rhythm of his fucking. "You're doing so well," Enzo told him, breathing hard with exertion. "Do you like having me inside you?"

"Yes!" Henry gasped.

"Say it," Enzo ordered. "Tell me how good it feels."

"I like having you inside me," Henry parroted. "It feels so good!"

Enzo reached a hand down and began to masturbate Henry. At his touch, Henry emitted a deep, guttural sound that emerged from the deep recesses of his penetrated body. He let the sound escape him passively, past all vestiges of control. He moaned. He gasped. He clutched the lining of the carpet beneath him. Enzo thrust himself in and out, crescendoing in intensity and accelerating in speed. The beginnings of an orgasm reverberated through Henry's body, building toward a breaking point. Yes! He thought to himself, Yes! He could tell that Enzo was nearing his climax as well. He was sweating with exertion, and it seemed with each thrust as if he were driving toward something just outside his reach.

With a great, wrenching shudder, Henry ejaculated onto the carpet. Enzo's thrusting persisted, spurred forward by Henry's release. He pounded Henry into the ground, thrusting deep into him. Henry moaned underneath him, wanting him to come, to spill his seed inside him. "Yes," Enzo moaned, "yes!" With a final, decisive thrust, he climaxed, shuddering and clutching Henry.

Henry lay on the ground, breathing heavily, thoroughly spent. Through the haze of exhaustion and soreness, a sense of calm crept over him, soothing his limbs and sharpening his senses. He smelled the musk of exerted bodies and the sweet, sharp scent of semen. He listened to the sound of Enzo's feet on the floor as he stood up to fetch a wet cloth from the washroom. He took note of the feeling of the cloth on his skin as Enzo ran the cloth over his messy body wordlessly. And he noticed above all the emotion coursing through his body, as palpable as any physical pleasure: joy.

Why joy, he wondered? This was a new emotion, something he had never experienced before in connection to his exploits with other men. Relief, yes. It had been like scratching an itch or swatting a fly. But nothing like this. Henry felt serene through and through. Every limb in his body felt as if it were made of exactly the stuff it should be made of.

Enzo sat next to Henry on the carpet and offered him a cigarette. Henry sat up and let Enzo light it for him. Enzo took a long, thoughtful drag. His lips curled into a smile, and he began to chuckle, then to laugh out loud. "And you thought you were going to be the one to teach me a lesson!"

Henry was momentarily affronted, but even he could see the humor in the situation. He chuckled to himself. "I suppose that's true," he mused.

"I'll tell you this, you may be an overprivileged twat, but you're a good lay," Enzo's expression was half joking, half serious.

"Well, you're an over-outraged little nobody," Henry shot back in an acid tone.

Enzo took another drag of his cigarette, then said in a despairing tone, "Look at us! We just shared something truly intimate, and we're still at each other's throats. Men are really fucking stupid, you know that?"

"I suppose."

"Let's cut the fucking power games, okay? I'll keep out of your business if you keep out of mine."

Henry grinned. "I don't know, Enzo, you were pretty up in my business just now if you know what I mean..."

Enzo laughed. "You can joke about it," he observed.

It was true. Henry had made the comment offhand; it had slipped out of his mouth without thinking. Whatever had passed between him and Enzo, it had apparently broken that invisible barrier that held his tongue in its grasp. Henry could speak aloud his desire. He could joke about it as if it were not shameful at all--and perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps it was only shameful if he let himself feel ashamed. He decided to try joking about it again. "Yeah," he said, "you fucked the hesitation right out of me."

"I'm flattered!" Enzo smiled broadly. "But seriously, Henry, let's have a truce."

Henry considered this. A truce with Enzo would mean relinquishing his dominant position among his cohort. It would mean acknowledging that there was a different source of power than the wealth and status on which he staked his own claims. Was he willing to give it up so easily?

Enzo seemed to read his thoughts. "Power's not so easy to give up, is it?"

"No," Henry concurred.

Enzo gave Henry a winning smile. "But you like giving up power, don't you remember? You love it. You can't get enough of it."

Henry offered a sheepish grin in response.

"I'll tell you what." Enzo's face brightened. "If you ever forget that that's what you like, you come to me. I'll put you in your place. And I'll make you like it." He gave a jovial wink.

So there would be a second time, Henry realized, his pulse racing at the thought. "What will you do to me?" He asked, barely concealing his excitement.

"Well," Enzo mused, taking another puff of his cigarette, "how would you like it if I hit you with the cane? It'd be a shame if it went to waste, wouldn't it?"

Henry glanced at the cane lying on the floor next to them. The thought of it sent a fresh spark of fear through his body. He had been caned only a few times before as a child, and the memories of its searing blows, and the humiliation that had accompanied them, were not pleasant. "I don't know..." he hesitated.

"We don't have to," Enzo assured him. "But I think you would like it if I was the one hitting you."

"Show me."

"Alright!" Enzo stood up. He put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk, then walked over and picked the cane up from the ground. He examined it, running his hand across its length, assessing its texture and density. Henry watched with interest as Enzo got to know the weapon in his hands. He swished it through the air, not aiming it at anything in particular. Then he struck his own thigh with it, first lightly, then more forcefully, imprinting a line of red along his skin and making him wince in pain. "This thing's no joke," Enzo observed. "I'll go easy on you. This time." He grinned. He sat down in the desk chair. "Come kneel right in front of me, facing away from me."

Henry followed the instructions, moving over and resting on his knees in front of Enzo, between his legs. He felt Enzo's hand give his hair an affectionate ruffle. Enzo moved the cane over Henry's torso, tracing lines across it, down toward his pelvis, then across his thighs. The end of the cane scratched Henry's skin, invigorating it. Enzo pressed the end of the cane into Henry's thigh, causing a dull pain to emanate from the place of impact. Henry whimpered. Enzo brought the cane up, and Henry saw that a small, round bruise had appeared in the spot where the end of the cane had been. "Breathe," Enzo whispered. Henry drew in a deep breath, just in time for Enzo to deliver a quick, sharp blow onto Henry's bruised thigh. Henry cried out in surprise. Enzo clapped his hand over Henry's mouth. He struck Henry twice in a row on the same spot, lightly but precisely. Caught in Enzo's grasp, Henry trembled in reaction. "Very good," Enzo encouraged. He rapped the cane against Henry's other thigh, offering a clean burst of pain that subsided as soon as it came. "I'm just getting started."