The Mobster's Toy Ch. 01

The story is an unlikely ROMANCE between scarred bisexual bodyguard ex-marine ex-cage fighter, and a beautiful young gay who is a fucktoy for a twisted mobster who is forcing him to play dead during sex.

There are elements of dub con, but not between MCs. There is no violence between MC. The story includes gay anal sex scenes.

This is hurt->comfort type of a story.

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I met Ilya on my first day at work.

Desperate to find a well-paying job, I accepted a shady offer to work as the bodyguard of an enigmatic businessman, Fiodor Biane, and was starting to regret that decision mere minutes after I arrived at the mobster's mansion. Yep, I called him a mobster right away, at least in my mind. He looked like a mobster, smelled like a mobster, and had written mobster all over him.

I started at exactly 8 p.m. `

My job was simple, I suppose. I was there to make sure everything "is okay", if you know what I mean. Inside the mansion was a crowd of shady figures that looked like weird businessmen, politicians, high officials, and other important guests that all seemed to have some connection to not-so-legal businesses. Most expensive drugs were readily available. Beautiful girls, models and escorts danced at the center of the large hall, trying to tempt the shady men with their sexy half-naked bodies, and obviously silicon body parts.

The host, my new "boss" Fiodor, filled me in on what to expect the day before, so I came mentally prepared. The loud music, the booze, the drugs and the suspicious people were all nothing new to me. I was at rock bottom and needed some easy cash. I hoped it wouldn't be that bad, but I really wished I could live a normal life, somewhere far away from these dirty dealings.

Once I entered the mansion, most of the guests were already inside, and loud music was playing. I said hello to the mansion's 'majordomo' Igor, and he took me to the main chamber, where all of the "fun" was.

I nodded at Fiodor, who spotted me from the opposite end of the room, but there was no need for us to talk, so I just focused on my duties. There was nothing special to attract my attention, aside from two men snorting cocaine off the glass table in the corner.

I sighed, but what could I possibly do? I was expecting that.

My eyes surveyed the room dispassionately, without lingering on anybody in particular, pausing on each person for only a few seconds, before moving on to the next.

Suddenly, I noticed a lone figure emerging from the back door. It was a young man, or rather a boy, not more than 19 years old; his moves were hesitant, almost shy. He came closer to Fiodor, and my eyes narrowed in curiosity. The mobster put an arm around his waist and kissed him quite passionately on the lips.

I raised my eyebrows a bit. As I heard, being openly homosexual was not a popular way of live for a mafioso. But Fiodor had not obvious connections to mafia, it was more subtle, secretive, although present, so maybe he could get away with it?

I turned my eyes to two women quarreling in the other corner of the room, but a minute later I dragged my eyes back to the boy. Fiodor was having a conversation with some fat local politician, and the boy just stood by the mobster's side, his head low, his face indifferent.

He was about 5'9", lean, lanky, built like a ballet dancer. What was so interesting about him was his long, light golden hair, a silky wave flowing down his back. It looked strangely angelic. I came a bit closer to have a better look at his face.

His features were quite exotic, typical of some eastern Slavic people, with high cheekbones, slightly slanting eyes, a narrow jaw, and a small chin. He was not classically handsome by Western standards, but he definitely had some intriguing features that set him apart. Was he pretty, or just original? I couldn't tell, though my eyes kept returning obsessively to check out his slim frame.

As I was somewhat inattentively circling the room, pretending to be interested in what was going on, I got even closer, within a couple of feet of the boy. Suddenly, he raised his eyes and fixed his gaze on me. He had very sad, distressed, but beautiful blue-green eyes.

I was stricken by a sudden wave of stress and an unpleasant feeling started building in my stomach. Why was this boy so miserable? Was he here of his own free will? Or was he kidnapped from some Eastern European country? I heard that was sometimes the case with beautiful Russian and Ukrainian girls. Was his case similar?

For the rest of the evening, I watched him interacting with Fiodor. The mobster took him on his lap and kept him there, even during conversations with other guests. He was constantly touching the boy's back, sometimes even kissing the boy's neck. It was so disturbing, I could not tear my gaze away from them.

I caught the boy glancing at me a couple of times. Sometimes I could even see him eyeing me in the mirrors that covered the room's walls.

Around 2 a.m. Fiodor came to me and said: "I'm going to bed now. Please stay as long as the guests are here, after that, you can either go home or, if you prefer, go to sleep in one of the first floor rooms in the eastern wing of the mansion. My other bodyguards sleep there during the week."

I nodded. The boy was still close to him, his eyes glazed over, unfocused, almost unseeing. He was definitely on something. Had Fiodor drugged him?

As they walked out of the room, I stayed, deep in thought.

Why did I ever agree to take this fucking job in the first place?

I hated my whole miserable life.

I grew up in a trailer park. Yep, one of those common, tragic stories. My father was a drunk and my mother did time for selling drugs -- she was behind bars more often than she was home with us. At 18, I joined the Marine Corps. After four years, I left and became an underground MMA fighter. There were no rules and lots of illegal bets, but the money was good. Some of the fighters never got out; I was the lucky one. I accumulated some savings and at 24, I enrolled in college. Better late than never, so they say.

My life hasn't been easy. The decision to leave MMA fighting was even more difficult. I felt miserable and depressed. Something was missing in my life, and I didn't know what it was.

I cut almost all ties with my old friends, and tried to chart a new path. It was hard as hell, and one reason for that was the way I looked.

The past had taken its toll on me.

My massive gladiator-like body was covered in scars and tattoos, and I stood at 6'7". I lived up to my nickname as "The Beast". That's why I just could not blend well into normal society. My too-many-times destroyed brow ridges were scarred to the point that it gave me a bit of a neanderthal-ish look. Half of my earlobe in one ear was missing after being bitten off (luckily I had almost no hearing loss). I also had a tattoo of a thorny ivy on my face, its black and red spikes spiraling down my temples and neck. It was quite visible from afar, so it added to the disturbing effect I gave off to people.

At college, I was an outcast. The other kids looked at me as the monster, the creep, and the freak. I've spent my whole life lonely as fuck, meeting people only for hookups, and passing time in the gym, working out as hard as I could, sometimes 4-5 hours daily, trying to forget about my fucked up past.

I was hooking up with both men and women; I was bisexual and didn't really care which hole I fucked. It was always anonymous; sometimes I didn't even talk to them -- that was actually the best option for me. My pockets were always full of condoms and lube. I accepted most invitations I got on Tinder and Grindr. Easy and simple. I had pics of my dick always ready to send. I really didn't have to do much talking beyond that. Having a 10-inch dick, almost as thick as a beer can, did the talking for me.

By 4 a.m. all of the guests were gone. Theoretically, I could return to the dorm, but I wasn't in the mood. I was agitated and annoyed, so I strolled through the big garden around the mansion, trying to ease my mind. I felt trapped being around this sort of people. I wanted so badly to escape. Suddenly, I was startled by a quiet cry coming from one of the rooms on the first floor. It got my attention. I crept quietly along the wall, trying to be careful, and not to make any noise.

I spotted a faint blue light coming from the room with a balcony window open.

It was partially covered with bushes and climber plants, so I could easily sneak up there without being noticed.

The room was mostly dark with only the blue glow of a bedside lamp to allow me to see inside.

I froze. It was Fiodor and the boy I'd seen during the party.

Fiodor was fucking him into the mattress, the boy was spread wide on the edge of the bed. Fiodor was kneeling on the carpet and furiously thrusting between the boy's slender legs. The long, silk hair seemed almost silver in the dim blue light, and his pale face looked to the side, perfectly in line with my... eyes.

It was then that I realized that I had been spotted the moment I emerged from the garden.

The boy saw me right away, I was sure of that. His eyes, dark in the shadows filling the room, perfectly aligned with my eyes. He said nothing. I just stood there, with the moonlight outlining my silhouette against the night sky from the boy's point of view.

I froze in place. I simply could not leave this spot.

I should, I know, I should!

I watched him, laying there, letting Fiodor ravish him in a wild, animalistic fuck. The mobster was moving the boy's motionless, passive body on the bedding. The boy's dick was limp, I could see that as well. He was being fucked, but he was totally indifferent to it. He just laid there, pliant in the bed's sheets, his slender arms spread wide, his golden hair like an aureole around his head, his flat chest with small nipples shining almost silver, and his delicate neck tilted aside.

He was beautiful. I could not tear my eyes away from his beauty. I was transfixed by the elegant line of his waist and hips, by his lean arms, and by his beautifully shaped collarbones. He was like a ballet dancer, a true work of nature's art. Fiodor's cock was pistoning in and out of the boy's pink rim. I could even see the glistening of it. The mobster had a normal size cock, far less impressive than mine. I estimated it to be no more than 6.5" at maximum, but it was rather thin, so he was probably not doing that much damage. The boy was so passive, so totally passive as if nothing was going on there.

I could almost imagine him sleeping and being fucked simultaneously.

His perfectly submissive behavior did something to me, though.

I could feel my dick waking up, blood flowing southward. It was so crazy, but I could imagine myself fucking the boy instead of Fiodor, bottoming out inside, but... I would not let his dick lay there limp like that. It would be like a slap in the face of my pride. I would do anything to wake him up from his passive state.

I would make the boy moan and gasp in my arms. I'd have him begging for my cock.

I swallowed hard, seeing the quickening of the pace. My own dick was protruding obscenely in my black suit pants, trapped against my hip.

Fiodor was close to orgasm. His hips were working hard, his fists clenched on the boy's willowy hips.

After a minute or so, Fiodor grunted and groaned, and became still for a few seconds. Then there was another small pause, and he backed away.

I could see him rolling the condom off and throwing it on the floor without tying it up.

He stood up and said, "Sleep well."

And he just marched out of the room, completely naked.

It was quite weird; I couldn't wrap my head around what I was observing. I knew for a fact that Fiodor was married. Why did he keep this boy here? Was he now going back to bed to sleep with his wife? What a peculiar arrangement... And who was this boy anyway?

"Why are you still standing there? Come inside, bodyguard."

The voice almost startled me. It sounded really ambiguous, in quite a seductive way. The boy had a distinctive Slavic accent, but I was uncertain if he was even Russian. He could be Ukrainian or Polish.

Even upon hearing the encouragement, I... could not force my feet to move for about a minute. Finally, I pushed the balcony door open and went inside, the blue light on me now.

"The Beast..." he murmured. "Fiodor told me about you covering for Sergiei. Why were you watching me so closely during the party? You surely should know it's not your place to gawk at the boss' fuck-toy-boy, huh?"

My eyes gazed along the boy's slim, still shamelessly naked body.

"Is that how you see yourself? His fuck toy?"

"Surely, you could see that with your own eyes, watching Fiodor tumbling me mindlessly minutes ago...?"

"I try not to assume anything. Looks can be deceiving."

"Well now you wouldn't be wrong. I'm his weekend fucktoy. Were you getting off on it? Looking at us?"

"Looking at you. He was an annoying distraction."

The boy still didn't move. He was lying where Fiodor left him, in exactly the same position.

"Well, you are not shy, that's for sure. Your honesty is refreshing."

"What are you doing here? Are you here willingly?"

"Oh, I'm so touched. Are you concerned with my well-being? Long story short: It's either this or starving in my country, after my father was killed. And he pays me well, don't worry."

"Is it really better? There are other options, you know." I said quietly. I suddenly felt guilty. The mobster was preying on the boy's desperate situation. Was I any better, fucking him in my fantasies?

He snorted. "Oh, for God's sake. Are you one of those who want to save stray dogs?"

I shrugged, a bit annoyed because I was aware of what he was doing. Guarding himself. Oh, I knew that defense mechanism all too well, very intimately...

"I don't know much about saving stray dogs. I had trouble saving myself, when my father's drunken cousins wanted me to suck their dicks, nobody cared. So, I wouldn't know much about saving anybody. I finally got out and joined the military. Though I'm still sucking dicks, but only for fun."

A brief moment of silence passed between us.

The boy's body was still weirdly limp, with his legs wide open, and his empty hole looking at me, glistening in a weirdly obscene way. I could even see the dark spot in the center; he was stretched enough that he could, probably, handle me although not without some additional pain and adjustments.

"Are you looking at my hole?"

I chuckled. "Well, it's there to see, spread wide open, so it's kinda hard to ignore it."

The boy narrowed his eyes. I noticed his long eyelashes casting long, dark blue shadows on his white high-boned cheeks.

"Is it pretty? Or fucked open and disgusting?"

I hesitated. I could see a weird grimace on the boy's face, as if his own body seemed repugnant to him. It was almost painful to observe. He was appalled and repulsed...

Maybe the way he was lying here, motionless, his vulnerable hole wide open, was some kind of peculiar punishment he was imposing on himself. Humiliation. He was glad that he was naked and put on a spot, embarrassed and degraded.

It was really hard to decide whether I should answer, or if it would make him feel worse.

"It's quite a normal body part, even if it's stretched a bit."

"Used and repugnant, you wanted to say, but you hesitated, pitying me..." he said with obvious anger, painfully pursing his lips.

Yes, I knew, I'd interpreted it well. He wanted me to be disgusted by him because it seemed to him the only proper reaction. The only possible one. The only right one.

How could I kick a man when he was already down? Was I that much of a bastard?

I wasn't into fucking somebody just after another person, but I could bend a bit, just for his sake. I clenched my jaw.

"No, I was actually endeavoring to stop myself from saying that it looks very tempting and is giving me a constant hard-on. I was trying to shield you from feeling horrified by that remark, given your situation."

The boy's eyes were big and full of surprise, verging on shock.

"Well I wasn't expecting that, for sure." He winced and looked aside, blushing a bit.

I hesitated. What else could I do? I truly felt sorry for the boy.

"But I would not use your hole like Fiodor did. I would do better," I added, feeling an incomprehensible impulse to raise his self-esteem a little.

His eyes were focusing on me again.

"And how would you use it?"

"Did you come during sex with him?"

The boy laughed. "Please... don't you know him? He is not interested in his bed partner's orgasm. It's off-putting to him. He is most aroused when he has passive and indifferent lovers. It's his kink, no matter their sex. He confessed to me that he once paid a hospital worker to let him fuck some woman in coma. He said it gave him the best orgasm of his life. His wife is always playing dead for him."

I shook my head in a shock. "God, sick motherfucker. So weird and buzz killing, at least for me. Sex with a willing and eager participant is so much better," I smiled at him crookedly.

"Wouldn't know. He is my first."

I froze, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

He noticed my reaction and shrugged, "Don't sweat it. I never even had an orgasm with him, so don't know what I'm missing. It's better that way. More... clinical. No attachment."

I swallowed hard, rattled up. Such a basic human right... I even lost my erection.

Suddenly, the thought of killing Fiodor seemed weirdly pleasant. I was a sniper all right. I could do that from a distance... Clean and quick. And I wouldn't even hesitate. But the problem was... everybody in this circle knew I was a sniper before. It wouldn't be a wise move.

I clenched my fist and asked, "Are you even gay?"

He wasn't looking at me, his face impassive, detached. "I don't know, probably. Watched some gay porn and got off on it. But it does not matter... I need to live through this, and get my money, use it well. I just need to endure it for some time. Not a big deal."

I took one step toward him. I was standing over him now, looking down at his slender, beautiful frame spread on the bed. He fixed his eyes on me.

"Why were you watching me, bodyguard? At the party... There was almost nothing else for you in that room, was there? It felt almost empty, huh?"

He looked at the ceiling, smiling ruefully.

"I was the only existing person there for you. Isn't that the truth? Tunnel vision."

I bit my lip. Should I lie? He probably was fed with lies all the time, living like that. But I could behave differently. And I should. Give him something. Anything? The truth?

"Yes. I was looking only at you."

Grimacing, he said, "Didn't your mama teach you? You should not be lusting for other people's property."

"She couldn't teach me too much from jail. And you are nobody's property, that's for sure. A man will not be a slave again, not in America. Until you tell me that you love him and belong to him, I can lust for you openly. Can't I?"

His eyes widened. Was I imagining it? His breathing became more... shaky?

"So? Do you love him? Do you feel like you belong to him? Do you feel you should be faithful?" I pressed the matter, with a slight smirk.

"No. To all three of those things."

There was a weird silence. His eyes suddenly looked more vulnerable, less angry. His guard lowered, his face softened.

"What do you want from me?" he asked finally, in a hushed voice.

"Do you want the truth? I really don't know. I was just looking at you and simply admiring your beauty. You are truly my type, on point. Beautiful, golden-haired prince."

He chuckled, but it sounded weirdly tragic. " That's all you want? To admire my beauty? Tell me the truth!" He demanded.