Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01

My spine started tingling as I approached the shopping complex where I'd seen Damien last week. There was a part of me that just really wanted to see his hot body, to have him hit on me and make me feel sexy again.

There was definitely light from under the overhang of the shopping complex, and I could see figures standing in a group there. There was some music playing, a recording of a hardcore band I didn't recognise with a mean-sounding gravelly vocalist. I found myself slowing, squinting through the gloom to see if Damien was among the group.

"Hey, Elijah!" It was Damien's voice. My heart was beating fast before he even called out his second sentence. "Come over here, have a drink!"

A door was open and light spilled out from it, showing the four men gathered under the building's overhang. Damien was there, grinning and holding a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He looked different than the last time I saw him. I didn't know the other guys. They definitely weren't from this side of the bridge.

"These are my mates," Damien said, walking forward and draping his tattooed cigarette arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his body and gesturing toward his friends with his other hand. "Scaz, Bazz and Toss."

With his arm around me his cigarette was trailing smoke in my face -- usually I'd make a deal out of it, but Damien's body was so firm and warm and welcoming I found I'd lost any spark of defiance.

Damien's friends nodded after their introduction, but I had no clue which was which and just smiled nervously.

"I'm Eli."

"We know," Said one of the guys, he had a bright red mohawk and messy black chin scruff. "You work at Defiant, right? You're the reason Dazza's been hanging round there so much."

He slapped Damien jokingly on the elbow and I realised that must be his nickname. I frowned at his words but Damien was grinning. What? He met my eyes and I realised how close he was, how easy it would be for him to tilt his head down and slide those sexy lips of his over mine.

"You want a drink?" Damien asked. His voice was pitched low and his breath tickled my skin. I was half way through shaking my head when Damien let go of me so he could fish around in a large portable fridge on the ground in the centre of the group. He pulled out a six pack of Coke cans, still attached in their plastic rings.

I don't normally drink Coke -- I don't like the caffeine -- but it seemed like Damien had bought the cans especially for me, so I took the one he offered. When he stood up again I realised what was different about him -- he was wearing glasses. They were thin black rectangular frames which balanced out his heavy eyebrows. Beneath them his eyes were blue, but not as dark and intense as I was used to -- I guess he wore tinted contact lenses to make them seem more impressive.

He also had the remains of a black eye, a deep purple circle around his left eye and a small cut on the cheek. His face was friendly and open, but his bruises made him look fierce. There were tiny freckles across his nose and cheeks.

I realised I was just staring at him, and he was grinning down at me with a raised eyebrow. I blushed and looked away.

"So this is a cool place to hang out," I tried to joke to cover my embarrassment.

Damien indicated the open door, the electric light making a set of stairs visible within. "I live here."

I nodded. My mouth was dry and I took a sip of my Coke, it tasted like the metal of the can it came in.

"So you're straight-edge," Said the red mohawk guy. He nodded at the black crosses drawn with thick pen on the backs of my hands. "Why don't you make those permanent?"

I wasn't sure if he was making fun of me -- nursing a beer and telling me to get drug-free tattoos -- but before I could think of a reply, Damien put his arm around me again and announced, "I reckon he should, those straightedge tattoos are hawt."

He drawled the last word but he winked at me too so I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or his friends.

"You got any tattoos at all?" He asked me.

I shook my head, then added, "They don't look any good on my skin."

"I bet lots of things look good on your skin."

I nearly choked on the mouthful I was drinking. My heart was racing. I took another sip and barely managed to swallow.

Damien's friends laughed appreciatively. What the hell? They all seemed to be grinning like nothing was wrong, like it was totally normal for big bruised skinheads to hit on skinny nerd guys. I couldn't imagine this kind of obvious flirting being accepted in my scene.

"You okay?" Damien asked in a rumble of amusement. "You seem real nervous."

He had his arm around me and was holding me close enough that I could feel his body heat through his thin cotton singlet, feel his chest with every rise and fall of his breath and his fingers holding protectively to the bare skin of my upper arm. No kidding I was nervous.

Damien and his friends were quiet for a few moments, the stilted conversation stopped. I wondered if I'd interrupted their normal conversation or if they liked to drink their beers and just listen to music in silence.

Damien started rubbing his thumb in circles on my arm, gently squeezing with his fingers like he was giving me a massage. He kept shifting his hand further up my arm until his fingers were under the hem of my sleeve and he was squeezing my bare shoulder. I knew he was staring at me but I couldn't bring myself to lift my eyes from the ground. Every cell in my body was focused on that hand stroking me.

"Maybe we should be heading off," Mohawk Guy said and raised his eyebrows meaningfully at his friend.

Damien didn't make any move to stop them. Instead he bent his head down so his lips tickled against the top of my ear and whispered, "They want to give us some time alone together, Elijah."

I gasped but there was Coke in my mouth and I started choking on it. Some of the sticky liquid spurted out of my lips and across my chin and shirt. I started to wipe at it with the back of my hand. Damien let go of me and put his beer down, reached for my face with an expression of mixed concern and amusement. I pushed his hands away roughly.

He put a hand on either shoulder to calm me and when I tried to shrug them off he only gripped on harder. I looked around at his friends -- Mohawk Guy had a wary eye on us. I didn't want to cause a scene so I whispered just loud enough for Damien to hear, "Get your hands off me."

Damien held firm to my shoulders and ducked his head so he was looking at me from under his dark eyebrows, twisting me so I was forced to meet his eyes. "We both know you want me." He said quietly. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

He was stronger than me; there was no way I could push him off. And besides, a part of me wanted to be here -- to have Damien holding me, staring at me intently and acting like I was the hottest boy in the world.

"You know I have a boyfriend..." My voice came out traitorously quiet. Damien was so close, his sweet beer breath blowing on my face.

His voice was so low I'm sure his friends couldn't hear him at all over the yells of the radio. His voice was low and deep and seemed to vibrate deep inside me.

"I can make you forget him. I can make you scream my name until I have to cum in your throat to stop you. Can your boyfriend do that? Because if he can, I don't know why you're here right now."

"Holy crap," I gasped.

"I get what I want. And I want you," Damien growled. His face was so close to mine. I focused in on his lips. I realised I could just tilt my head up, just the tiniest lift of my chin and I'd feel those lips brush against mine...

"I gotta go," I muttered. Damien kept holding onto me. I looked into his face, only inches from mine. His expression was blank.

He sighed and let me go.

I was hurt by Pete's rejection and even more so when a week passed without me hearing from him. Finally on Saturday after work I found a text from asking if I wanted to come over tonight. He was my best mate, so of course I agreed.

I went into his detached rooms to find him lying on his back on the bed, playing a brick of a GameBoy. He was wearing the same tee as last night and there was some breakfast remains on it, but his face lit up as he saw me and that made him beautiful to me.

"Eli! Come here, baby," The term of endearment sounded natural.

I sprawled out on the bed -- really, the mattress on the floor -- beside him, stretching out so my head was beside his and my feet were alongside his calves.

"You're really tall."

"Yup. I'm a big guy. I eat little Elis for breakfast," Pete rolled onto his side to face me and made a snapping motion with his teeth. I laughed and jerked my head away. Pete grabbed the sides of my head in his hands and suddenly I wasn't laughing.

I stared up into his eyes and noticed for the first time that he had long dark lashes. I watched as those eyes focused on mine, as his face slowly moved closer to mine and my lower lip trembled in anticipation of the kiss.

Suddenly Pete's eyes flashed and he bit my nose.

"Ow, what the fuck!"

"Yummy Eli, I'm gonna eat you!" He pushed down on my shoulders and rolled on top of me so for a few moments all his weight was on me and I was aware of just how big and heavy he was.

Pete raised himself up on his elbows, shifting his weight so he was straddling me with his legs on either side of my hips.

"Hey," He whispered. And now he wasn't playful anymore. He kissed me, leaning his face in close to mine and opening his lips, pushing down against me so I could feel the weight of his body behind that kiss.

I moaned against Pete's mouth and raised my hands from where they were lying dumbly on the ground, wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his curly hair.

Pete hummed low in his throat, and broke the kiss to whisper against my lips, "Sexy Eli."

My insides glowed. I could feel his erection growing and pushing against my thigh.

"Touch me, Eli."

I nodded my head quickly, feeling my mouth go dry in excitement and nervousness.

Pete rolled off me and onto his back. With one hand he pushed down the waistband of his grey sweatpants so the elastic band snapped up under his balls.

I gasped at the suddenness of it. A moment ago I was feeling the thrill of Pete's kiss and now I could see his semi-hard dick and his furry balls, lolling there begging for my attention.

There was no force that would stop my hand from reaching out and closing around his dick. As soon as I touched it, it throbbed and started swelling. Pete moaned.

I stroked his dick like I had the first time, long strokes which pulled the foreskin down to reveal a circle of his purple dick head then hide it again. I wasn't sure if his foreskin was gross or I if liked it.

"You should lick it," He groaned.

I hesitated. I didn't have any idea how to give head, and I was only just coming to terms with how it felt to have another guy's dick in my hands. I just kept stroking it, and nuzzled my mouth against Pete's for a kiss.

He tangled his hand in my wavy hair and gently pulled my face away from his. When he whispered his breath was hot against my lips. "Come on Eli, I know you want to lick it."

He started pressing on my head so it was forced down his body, I didn't know what to say and I did kind of want it, so I let him direct my face back down to his crotch.

His dick was sticking out of his thick curly hair, purple and pulsing with only a circle of dark wet head visible amidst the foreskin. I gripped it in my hand and begun stroking it again.

I met Pete's gaze and held it as I lowered my whole mouth to encompass his cock head. His face was contorted in pleasure and he kept making little nodding movements so I knew it was okay. His head didn't taste unpleasant, just rubbery and soft and a little sour. I'd watched lots of porn, of course, and I knew not to bite and to get as much dick in my mouth as possible and bob up and down. So I tucked my teeth under my lips and lowered my head down, letting Pete's wide dick slide into my mouth until I felt like I was going to gag.

When I pulled my mouth back up I let my tongue circle around his piss slit and the smooth ridge I could feel where his head met his shaft, smoothed down by the soft rubbery skin covering it.

Pete was making little humming noises and I started to move my head back down his dick. But he grabbed a handful of my hair and used it to hold my head still and whispered, "Use your lips to pull the foreskin up and down."

I nodded my head as quickly and as much as I could with his dick still in my mouth, then tried to do what he'd told me -- I kept sliding up and down his shaft, but this time kept his foreskin in my lips so I could slide it up and down with the motion of my head.

After a few minutes Pete stopped me again, and told me the same instructions. I let my mouth slide off his dick and said, "Aren't I doing it?"

"Just -- just try and pull the foreskin up and down when you move," He demonstrated with his hand. I tried again, focusing on grabbing the soft rubbery skin with my lips and pulling it down so I could feel the hard column of his dick beneath, but it wasn't long before Pete was stopping me with his hand in my hair and telling me I was doing it wrong.

I was starting to get frustrated and anxious. I kept trying to please him and I didn't know how to do what he wanted, I felt like I was doing what he asked. I wasn't enjoying it anymore. But I kept going because I wanted to get it right.

After a while my jaw started hurting and Pete wasn't making noises anymore. I wasn't sure what to do. I looked up at him but I didn't meet his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling and his expression was hidden by his beard.

I finally just pulled my mouth off his dick and lay with my head on his belly and stroked him hard and fast like I had last time, and soon enough he was groaning and grunting and trying to push my head back down to his crotch. My mouth hurt and I was sad so I didn't want to try giving head again.

When he came, his semen shot straight in the air and landed across my hand and all through his pubic hair. When I wriggled up beside him Pete didn't kiss me, he was already lulling off to sleep.

I was too confused to stick around so I just got off the mattress and left.

There wasn't a direct bus to my house from Pete's but I didn't feel up to a very long walk. It started raining when I was waiting at the bus stop pole and there was no shelter.

The connection bus never came. I waited an hour in the rain for a bus that should run every fifteen minutes, then I gave up and walked home.

As I walked the dark streets home my head was swirling. I'd known I was gay since I started high school, but what if I was wrong? I'd fantasized about a dick in my mouth for years and now I actually had the chance to experience it I was unhappy. Did this mean I wasn't really into guys?

I walked through the same run-down downtown area I passed through on the way home from hardcore shows, and the thought just made me more miserable as I remembered Pete and all the good times I'd had at shows because of him.

It was getting dark but at least the rain had finally stopped. I passed the building where Damien lived and didn't even glance sideways -- it was barely dark, and I'd only seen him there a couple of times late at night.

I was already passed another block of shops when I heard heavy running feet behind me. I ignored it. Then suddenly there was a warm arm wrapped around my belly and I was being pulled back into a strong chest. I saw the intricate colourful tattoos on his arm.

"You're fucking wet, come inside and dry up," Damien growled against my ear.

"I'm fine, I'm nearly home." Damien had the strangest effect on me, like golden syrup in my mouth making my words thick and slurred. I could hear myself mumbling and wondered if he even understood a word of what I said.

"Come on Elijah, you're freezing."

"Eli," I mumbled. Damien had his body pressed fully against my back and his warmth was leeching through into my cold flesh.

"I like Elijah," His voice was low and husky. He rested his right hand on by chest and started circling his fingers lazily around my collarbone, hooking the collar of my shirt down so he could touch my bare skin. I could feel trails of warmth across my skin where he touched me.

I realised I was shivering. I also realised Damien had my arms pinned at my sides and his hands on me -- he could do anything he wanted.

Just a few moments ago I was miserable and thinking of Pete, but now my whole life was Damien and the feel of his hands on me. It was like being brought to life by electric shock.

I looked down at his tattooed left arm clamped tight around my waist and had déjà vu of the first time I'd seen him, when he put his hand down my pants at a show. Only this time my tee shirt was so wet it was sticking to my skin and my nipples were clearly poking out against the thin cotton.

Damien gently brushed his lips against my neck then nipped at my skin with his teeth. A moan escaped my lips before I was aware of it.

I watched as Damien's tattooed arm dropped from my waist to my crotch, his fingers firmly stroking across my dick through my wet jeans. A bolt of electricity shot through me at the contact, the shock and joy of his hand on me made my stomach clench up so my body leaned forward and my butt rubbed into him.

The fingers at my collar spread out until Damien's whole hand was touching the bare skin of my chest. His hand skidded against my wet skin. Where his skin came in contact with mine it felt like delicious fire. I moaned again and leaned my head back against his shoulder, getting an intoxicating whiff of his engine grease and sweat smell. I must be soaking him with my wet clothes and the rain was pouring onto us but he didn't seem to mind.

Damien flicked his tongue out to touch against the flesh of my earlobe, stretched taught around my tunnel. I whimpered. I was feeling overwhelmed by the scent and warmth and nearness of him, it was a heady high I'd never before experienced in my drug-free life. I was sure I could feel his hard dick pressing up against my butt and the thought made me moan.

Damien whispered and his lips brushed lightly against my neck with each word, "I love those noises you make."

The words shocked me into realisation of my situation -- I was standing in the middle of the street in half darkness, this sexy guy touching me. I was just standing there letting him. I could still taste Pete's spunk in my throat and I was still letting this skinhead touch me.

Guilt swept over me. "I can't do this," I muttered, struggling to free myself from Damien's arms. He resisted for a moment then released my arms and pulled his hands off me.

I couldn't look at him so I just ducked my head down and hurried off. I didn't hear his heavy boots on the concrete and I wondered if he was just standing there, watching me go.

My flatmates were having a party when I got home. I was exhausted and I just wanted quiet. There was pounding music in the living room and I had to push past strangers to get to my room. A couple were leaning up against it, making out.

"Excuse me," I said loudly, but they just ignored me. I stood indignantly dripping water on my own carpet, raising my voice louder and louder. Finally they noticed me, and shuffled over so I could get at my door.

As I closed the door and turned the key behind me, I felt relieved for the hundredth time that I had thought to install locks.

Closing the door did nothing to shut off the noise. My windows were rattling from the bass and the noise of the crowd was often punctuated by loud piercing laughter.

I sighed and pulled my heavy noise-cancellation headphones out of their plug to my computer and pulled them onto my head.