Six Dead Poets

He kissed me again and I let him push me down on the bed, our mouths locked together.

His touch held a gentleness that made my body feel heavy in his arms, as if I was sinking into the bed.

The music threw out heavy piano chords and some guy singing off-key in Latin or French or both, I wasn't sure, and he wrapped himself around me so his knee was pressed between my legs, his hairy leg rubbing against my shaved thigh. Will had, after all, said to shave everything.

The song changed and now the piano was moody and dark. Slower.

Yeats rested his head against my shoulder and kissed the side of my neck. He stroked my arse with one hand, while the other moved ever lower to where I was stirring to life again.

He wrapped his hand around me, stroking me hard, kissing up the side of my neck, moving his mouth up to mine.

His lips were soft, his kiss more like Luce's than Will's, lacking the urgency I was used to.

I thought I knew what he needed.

I rolled into him, pushing him back onto the bed with two hands against his chest.

His eyes smouldered as I moved down his body. I knelt beside him and took his cock in my hand.

He patted the bed beside him, and I lay on my side and took him into my mouth. With one hand, I stroked fingers across his chest, while the other held him steady as I worked him hard.

"Move in," he said, and I shifted closer to him. He rolled my hips towards him so that he could get me in his mouth.

He moved his hips against my face as I sucked him, and his mouth around me was just as attentive as I was to him.

His hands roved over my arse and then ran up my back, his tongue curling around my swollen head, teasing and massaging.

It felt so good I pulled off him, unable to concentrate, and that seemed to turn him on more. He sucked me until I was lying on my back, shoving my hips up against his face, breathing hard with my hands wound in the bedspread.

"Oh, fuck!" The lazy exhilaration in me burst to life in his mouth, and he took my third load for the night. There couldn't have been much, and afterwards I was still humping his mouth, hungry for more stimulation.

He pulled off me and put a hand against my back, guiding me back to his cock.

I rolled back into him and renewed my efforts, bringing him to a spurting climax a short time later. I held his cum in my mouth and massaged his head with the thickness of it before swallowing it down.

I pulled off him and lay back exhausted, my body swimming in pleasure.

He turned around on the bed and joined me so that we were face to face, and put a hand against my neck, his thumb stroking the underside of my jaw.

"Thank you," he said. "I think my time's up, but I want to see you again. You will come back again, won't you?"

I opened eyelids weighed down with endorphins and smiled at him. It wasn't a yes, it wasn't a no.

He climbed off the bed and got dressed while I moved back up to the head of the bed.

I put my hand against my cock and felt sensitive and ready for more.

As soon as Yeats left, Will threw my jeans at me. "Put these on."

The tone in his voice woke me out of my drugged up daze.

"Why?"

I found my briefs and pulled them on, then tugged on my jeans.

"Because next is Frost, and he likes guys who play hard to get. Be as hard to get as you want, Jess. And remember, any time you want out, you tell me. You can use traffic lights on Frost, but if he ignores them, all you've got left is 'Home'. Just keep in mind two things. One, I won't let anyone hurt you more than you want to be hurt. Two, 'home' means home."

I sat on the side of the bed and remembered his speech about half the guys who came here panicking. I'd felt incapable of panicking five minutes ago, but he was making me nervous.

He crouched in front of me. "I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just trying to prepare you. Frost's intense, but nothing you can't handle. And if you ride it out, trust me. It'll be like nothing you've ever felt in your life."

He patted my leg.

"Right. Have a glass of wine and I'll let Frost know you'll be ready in five."

He left the room, and I gulped down a glass of wine and poured myself another one. I finished that, then drank the one Will had poured for himself. Even for me, that was a lot of wine.

I sat on the ottoman and ran a hand down my chest. I was still turned on from Yeats sucking me off. Even though I'd cum, I was no less horny. And I wasn't even on anything, except the high that came from not knowing who'd walk through the door, and what they'd want from me.

I rubbed the inside of my thigh, enjoying the heat of my hand through my jeans, and was engrossed in that when Will came back in.

He frowned at me, then looked at the nearly-empty bottle of wine. He rolled his eyes.

"Frost will be in shortly."

He went to the panel on the wall and tapped it. The chandeliers turned from deep orange to horror-movie blue. He tapped it again, and music started. Another off-key singer, talking over music. I listened to it, fascinated. I'd never heard anything like it. I thought I caught the words 'bucket of blood' and then Frost opened the door.

He looked around fifty, with dark blonde hair that was close to white parted at the side, sweeping across his head in a wave. His eyes were pale blue, and when they lit on me, every instinct suggested I stay as far the fuck away from him as possible.

I remembered Will's advice—play as hard to get as you like—and as Frost strode towards me, I pushed myself backwards across the leather-covered box and scrambled back onto the bed.

His face split into a grin, and he stopped at the foot of the bed and shed his jacket, dropping it onto the ottoman. He kept his intense gaze on me while I struggled to breathe, half the guys who come here panic, as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt and then unbuttoned the front of it, dropping that on the box too.

He was solid and fit, and looked as if he could give Will a run for his money in a fist fight. I glanced at Will, and Will gave me his cool winter gaze. He wasn't going to help me unless I tapped out. Whatever this was, I was on my own.

Will took Frost's jacket and shirt and hung them on the back of the door, and Frost put one knee on the leather-covered box and stared at me like a crazy person.

He started mouthing the lyrics along with the song playing and I tuned into them, and wished I hadn't.

I'll stay here till Billy comes in, till time comes to pass

And furthermore I'll fuck Billy Dilly in his motherfucking ass

This was strictly a no-ass-fucking room. Will had said it was a no-ass-fucking room. But if I'd ever met a man more likely to hold me down and fuck me, it was this guy. And I did not want him anywhere fucking near me. There was something bright and psychotic in his eyes. He wanted to hurt me. I could see it. He wanted to do damage.

Frost started to crawl up the bed towards me as guitars screamed.

I watched him in a state of paralysis until he reached out a hand to touch my leg, and then rolled off the bed and staggered out of reach.

I stood with my heart thumping, while he made himself comfortable.

He lay back and crossed his ankles, one arm behind his head to prop it up, and gestured for me to come to him.

Behind me, Will whispered, "He's only got fifteen minutes. Play hard to get, but don't keep him waiting too long."

I glanced back at him. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

There were people-screams in the music now, not just guitars being tortured.

Will pushed himself off the wall and stood with his arms at his sides. He looked ready to mobilise if he had to.

"I'm just trying to help you," he said, and the tone in his voice made me very fucking nervous.

The song ended, and I heard the scuff of shoes against carpet. I swung my head back around and found Frost standing in front of me. He was taller than me, and my gaze started on his chest and travelled up to his face to meet his mad eyes. The look there gave me a stab of adrenalin.

I edged away from him and he moved with me.

"You signed the waiver," he said. "So your mouth's mine. Unless you'd rather call Patrue, mi Patruissimo?"

I went still. I had no idea what he'd said, but I wasn't that fucking scared of him that I was going to start speaking Latin.

"Good boy," he said. He put a hand to my cheek, dragging his thumb along the underside of my jaw.

Slowly, he reached into his trouser pocket and drew out an anodised steel knife. He pulled it open. The blade had an iridescent glow in the blue light—Frost's blade. I stopped breathing, my eyes glued to the sharp edge.

Frost nodded past me at Will, and I let out a yell as Will grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arms up under my shoulders so that I was locked against him.

"Will, red, red, red!"

Will put his mouth next to my ear. "You tell him red. You tell me 'home' and I'll take you out of here."

I stared at Frost as he brought the knife close to my face. Moved my eyes to the blade.

"Red."

Frost shook his head slowly, those mad fucking eyes of his drinking in my fear.

I did my best to stay calm, but the look in his eyes convinced me he was going to slide the knife into my gut while my best mate let him do it.

Frost put his heavy hand on my left shoulder.

"Stay very still, flit."

I jerked under his touch as the flat of his blade pressed cold against my face, the point digging into my cheek.

"Will," I whispered.

His breath was hot against my ear. "Ride it, Jess. I won't let anything happen to you."

But it was happening to me. I was shitting myself. I'd never been so terrified in all my life. Will might think Frost was harmless, but I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to do this for real. And the knife was sharp, and the knife was on me, not on Will.

Frost's grip on my shoulder hardened, and he ran the blade down the side of my face, then down across my chest. And it wasn't just the flat of it. The point of it dragged across my skin, and all it would take for him to cut me was for me to move.

He moved his hand from my shoulder and started to lovingly caress me while he held the knife against my chest.

He ran his fingers down my arm, then down my side, over my stomach and down to brush across my crotch. I realised I was rock-hard, even as my heart was slamming against my ribs.

His touch was gentle, his palm brushing over my nipples, running over my chest, then back to cup me, stroking me through my jeans.

"You ready to give me your mouth?" he said. He ran his hand into the back of my jeans and cupped my arse.

I was breathing hard, turned on, but no less terrified.

"Answer me, you little fucking tease," he said, his eyes wide, his pupils eating back his irises until his eyes were nearly black. He was completely mad. I could see it—why the fuck couldn't Will see it?

"You know what?" he said. "I think I'd rather just fuck you up."

He rested the tip of the knife just above my left nipple.

I stayed frozen in Will's grip, my chest heaving, my eyes watering in desperation as he moved the blade down to rest just under my ribs.

"Here?" said Frost. "Or here?"

I followed the blade with my eyes as he slid the knife down towards the top of my jeans, stroking me with his other hand at the same time.

The last time I'd felt like this was at the top of a rollercoaster, looking down. Waiting for the screaming plunge.

"Eyes on mine," said Frost. His voice was dark and deep.

I met his eyes, his mad, black eyes, and he kept stroking me as he set the point of the knife against my chest, harder this time, creating a sharp pain.

My watering eyes spilled over as he lifted the blade away from my chest and I glanced down and saw a dark bead of blood welling up.

He'd fucking cut me.

Something in me went black and still. I was afraid, but I was also really fucking angry.

Frost nodded to Will and he let me go. I stayed where I was, sporting a raging hardon and a real urge to punch the shit out of the prick who'd just cut me.

Frost put a hand against the back of my neck and put his blade to the side of my neck as he pulled me against him. He mashed his mouth against mine, biting my lower lip too hard, swallowing my mouth with his. The whole time, he kept the flat of his blade against the side of my neck, the blade tilted against my skin so that if I moved, he'd slice me open.

I froze still as he mauled my face with his tongue, focussed on that cold line of steel.

Getting no resistance, he pulled the knife away and licked at my lips, then gave me a cold look that was almost a snarl.

"Get on your knees."

No fucking way.

I twisted away from him, but before I could take a step, he choked me off my feet with an arm around my throat. The one that held the knife.

"You're wasting my time," he snarled, and dragged me over to the ottoman, my hands clawing at his arm, my air choked off. He sank to the floor with his back to the ottoman, pulling me against him, the bulge of his forearm pressed against my windpipe, the blade in his hand pointing back towards my face.

"Let him breathe," warned Will, and Frost snorted.

He put his lips against my ear and bit my earlobe hard enough to make my eyes water again.

"Stop fighting, or I'll bite it off." He licked my earlobe into his mouth and held it between his teeth.

I believed him. Will might not, but I fucking did.

I stopped struggling and held still as he kissed the side of my face and ran his free hand over me, down to stroke me through my jeans where I swelled under his touch, then back up across my waist, stroking across my ribs, his touch and my fear lighting a fire from my balls to the swollen tip of my cock.

He kept up his touch, the pressure against my throat slack but still there, and I shuddered in his arms and twisted against him. It wasn't with fear. I wanted to fuck. I really, really wanted to fuck. Feel the pain of him searing into me, to bite him as he did it, to fuck till it killed me.

He moved his hand up over my chest and smoothed it over my shoulder, then up my neck, his touch making my hips thrust involuntarily as I got increasingly hornier and unable to control myself.

He started rhythmically stroking my hair and I realised he was speaking the words with the song that was playing.

He'll wrap you in his arms,

tell you that you've been a good boy

He'll rekindle all the dreams

it took you a lifetime to destroy

I pushed back uncontrollably against him and he slowly released his grip on my throat.

I heard his hands at his belt as he shifted up to sit on the ottoman.

I turned around and knelt in front of him, ready to do whatever he wanted me to do. I spread my knees wide and shoved a hand into the front of my jeans, stroking myself, fucking my own hand.

He said nothing as he drew himself out of his trousers, and I met his gaze. He put a hand out and I crawled closer to his bobbing cock. He put a hand on the back of my head and guided me onto him, while I kept one hand on myself.

He let out a groan as he slid into the wetness of my mouth, gripping my hair and pulling me against his groin, mashing my face into his pubic hair, pushing into my throat. I was glad he wasn't that big. Maybe that was why he was so angry all the time.

I put one hand on his thigh, kept one shoved down the front of my jeans, and let him use my mouth.

"Good boy," he said, with deep satisfaction, and I met his gaze while he thrust into my mouth.

I answered him silently with my eyes—fuck you—and he made a noise of contentment in the back of his throat.

He pushed hard against the back of my head and jammed my face onto his cock, using me brutally, going harder any time I dropped my gaze, until I learned to keep my eyes locked to his.

He fucked my mouth like that until the hand inside my jeans was sticky with precum, and my mouth was full of his.

"Open wide." He gripped my hair and pulled my head back, and I did as he said.

He pumped his cock twice, and a thick stream of cum landed on my tongue. He gave me two more loads, then squeezed the last few drops onto my tongue.

"Swallow."

I smiled at him. And spat his cum on the floor, spattering it across his right shoe.

He snarled and lifted his arm to backhand me, and Will was there.

Frost gave him a dark look, but lowered his hand.

"Time's up," said Will. Frost's song hadn't finished—

But hidden in his coat

Is a red right hand

But he got to his feet anyway.

I fell back onto my hands and Frost sneered down at me as he stepped past me to get his clothes.

"Next time."

He took his shirt from the back of the door and pulled it on. He didn't bother to do it up, just threw his jacket over his arm and left.

I knew one thing. There would never be another time with him.

The second he was gone, Will pulled me to my feet.

"You okay?" he asked.

I put a hand to my crotch and winced. I was so fucking horny.

Will wiped a splash of cum from my mouth. "Nice finishing move, by the way."

I started laughing and the tension dropped away. I realised I felt giddy. That same feeling of getting off a rollercoaster, only twice as intense. Will was right, the high was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

A song came on; another singer who didn't bother following a tune. A deep voice, even deeper than the last one. But at least he wasn't singing about murdering people.

Well I heard there was a sacred chord

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?

The door opened, and a man came in. He had dark hair streaked with grey and a serious face dominated by a large Roman nose, his eyes pale blue-grey.

"Sorry," said Will, "We haven't reset."

"That's quite alright, my boy, I don't mind waiting."

He twisted his hands nervously, his eyes moving around the room, looking everywhere but at me, while Will gave the chandeliers back their orange glow and lifted the light a notch. He restarted the music.

Will leaned back against the wall. "Jesse, this is Emerson."

Emerson glanced up at me, then down again. "Are you alright? You have some—" he waved a hand in front of his chest.

I looked down and saw a smear of blood above my nipple where Frost had cut me.

"I'm fine," I said.

"It's just... safety," he said, his eyes on the ground again.

"I'll sort it," said Will. Then, to me, "Will you be okay if I go get something to put over it?"

I nodded, and he left us alone.

Emerson was so obviously nervous, I felt bad for him.

"Do you want a seat?" I asked.

"Thank you, my boy, thank you."

He sat in the chair beside the bed and met my gaze.

"Such a beautiful boy," he whispered, and then dropped his gaze again, blinking rapidly as if he was mortified he'd said it out loud.

I glanced around, wondering where the hell Will was. I couldn't make conversation with this guy. He was terrified of me. And I was still really fucking horny.

I picked up the wine bottle and drained what was left into a glass, and handed it to Emerson.

"Here."

He took it gratefully and sipped it.

After a moment, he gathered himself to try eye contact again.

"So, what do you do when you're not ah...?"

"I'm studying," I said, as I sat on the side of the bed. "Journalism."

"Oh, oh, quite, yes, that's excellent."

He took another sip of his wine and I rested a hand against my crotch, curling my fingers around my cock through the fabric of my jeans.

"Have you done this before?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, once or twice," he said, concentrating on sipping his wine, but unable to stop his eyes flickering to my self-help action.

"And you enjoy yourself?" I asked, confused. Caressing my cock with the base of my thumb.