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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: Nothing interesting has ever happened to Ben while he takes his evening run through the park opposite his house--until today that is. He spots a very strangely dressed man sitting all alone on the grass not far from the path he runs along. He approaches, thinking the guy might need help, only to find the man unwilling to speak a single word. Nods and headshakes are all he can get out of the guy. Ben doesn't intend to take the stranger back to his flat. He doesn't intend for things to get hot and kinky between them either. Luckily for Ben, what he intends to do, and what he'll actually end up doing, are two very different things!
eBook Publisher: Resplendence Publishing, LLC, 2011 August
eBookwise Release Date: February 2012

13 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [35 KB]
Words: 6192
Reading time: 17-24 min.

"Are you okay?"

As Ben Chapel cautiously approached the figure sitting all alone in the middle of the grass, the guy looked up. The look in the man's eyes damn near took Ben's breath away. All thoughts of his evening run were forgotten.

Crouching down alongside the strangely dressed form, Ben nibbled on his bottom lip as he tried to think of something to say. "Are you hurt?" he hazarded.

The guy shook his head.

Ben ran his gaze over the man before him--from the tip of his tiny black hat all the way down to where his torso disappeared into a flurry of...of some sort of white net skirt?

He had to be some sort of performer; maybe one of the mime artists that often set up shop in the park during the busier times of day. Maybe that's why there was something strangely familiar about him...

Still, if Ben didn't understand the clothes the other man wore, he certainly understood those parts of the other man that weren't covered up. Lean lines of pale muscle called out to him. Ben's palms itched with a sudden desire to reach out and stroke the guy's bare skin.

Clearing his throat, Ben rested one elbow on a bent knee and wove his fingers together in an effort not to grope without an invitation.

The other man still stared up at him, his big soulful eyes heavily painted with makeup. The dark lines weren't smudged. As dejected as he looked, he couldn't have actually given way to tears at any point. That was good.

Ben looked over his shoulder, tracing the cycling path through the park until it curved out of view. There was no one else in sight. Bloody typical. He usually couldn't complete his run without tripping over a dozen dog walkers, joggers, love-struck couples and kids on their way to feed the ducks at the pond.

Once more, Ben found his attention pulled back to the man sitting on the grass. He was so gorgeous, he looked almost otherworldly. "Are you on your own?" Ben asked.

He wasn't sure what he expected him to say. Aliens probably didn't admit that there was an orbiting mother ship waiting for them. Elfish folk almost certainly wouldn't tell humans if there was an easy way to slip between magical and earthly worlds and meet all their friends.

For whatever reason, the only answer Ben received was a nod. The guy was alone. Ben took a deep breath, counted to ten, and did all those very sensible things a person should do when he knew damn well he was about to make a big mistake, but also knew that wasn't going to stop himself from making it.

It wasn't a good idea to pick up strange men in the park. He could be a serial killer or a psychopath. He could be a sadist...

Ben felt the heat race to his cheeks at the idea. He could be the kind of sadist who didn't stop when a man said his safe word, he mentally rephrased. And that was a bad thing--a very bad thing.

Taking a stray man home wasn't the same as rescuing an abandoned puppy--even if the big dark eyes made Ben want to pull the guy onto his lap, stroke his hair and tell him everything would be fine.

"Are you hungry?" Ben blurted out, as the silence became too much for him to bear.

Another nod.

"My name's Ben."

No comment.

"Do you have a name?" Ben hinted.

Nod.

"Um... Do you want to tell me what it is?"

The guy shook his head.

"Okay..." Ben said, drawing out the word to several times its normal length. He started to straighten up.

Before his bent knee had time to leave the grass, a black gloved hand came to rest on Ben's arm. Ben stopped and lowered himself back down. A sane man would walk away. But those eyes...

Ben frowned slightly. The man had said he was hungry. And, since Ben had already asked and everything, it seemed cruel to walk away without at least making sure he had a good hot meal inside him.

He glanced at the other man's outfit for a moment. He wasn't sure where a man could keep money in it.

Ben mentally cursed. Apart from his socks and trainers, he only had his running shorts and an old T-shirt on himself. His house key was fastened to a chain around his neck, but he didn't have a penny with him.

"I don't live far from here. I have food at my flat," he offered.

The other man blinked. He tilted his head slightly to one side, as if considering those facts very carefully.

"You'll be perfectly safe," Ben promised. He was pretty sure that was exactly what a white slave trader would say, too. "Or I guess I could bring some food back to you here?"

The guy said nothing as several seconds passed by. Then, apparently reaching a decision, he took hold of Ben's hand. A smile curved the black-painted lips.

"Okay," Ben said. "My place it is then..." He stood up and politely helped the other guy to his feet.

He'd obviously been telling the truth when he'd said he wasn't hurt. His movements were easy and fluid. His grip on Ben's hand was also unflinching. He didn't seem the least bit interested in letting go of it any time soon.

Ben looked at their joined hands, then back up. The other man was slightly shorter than he was. He returned Ben's gaze unblinkingly, as if he really couldn't see the problem.

"Okay," Ben said again. Stepping forward, he led the way toward the westward park gate. The other man's feet were bare, but that didn't seem to bother him as they walked along the rough path.

As they left the park, Ben looked both ways down the busy street. There were people out there. Quite a few of them turned to stare as Ben and his new friend came into view. It was impossible to tell if that was because they made a strange looking couple with their mismatched appearances or simply because they made an obviously gay couple.

Lifting his chin, Ben ignored them all. It wasn't far to walk, and they made quick progress until the other man suddenly stopped and stood stock still. He didn't let go of Ben's hand. Ben had little choice but to stop, too. The guy might look fragile, but he had a surprisingly strong grip.

"What's wrong?"

The guy peered down at the pavement in front of him. Ben followed his gaze. Glass from a broken bottle scattered across the ground before him.

"Oh." Ben hesitated, but only for a moment. The solution was obvious. Looping his arms around the slightly smaller man's body, he lifted him easily off his bare feet and carried him forward.

The other man wrapped his arms comfortably around Ben's neck and settled into his embrace as if he had no doubt he belonged there. Somehow, even when the glass was a distant memory, Ben didn't feel right putting him down.

Within a few minutes, he was striding into his building with the other man still in his arms.

"Congratulations! You should have told us!"

Ben blinked at his next door neighbors as they peeped out through their doorway. He looked from them, to the man in his arms and back again. He supposed the crazy outfit could look a little bit like an avant-garde wedding dress if someone didn't know any better.

Not sure what else to do, Ben merely smiled and nodded until Mr. and Mrs. Rosenbaum finally retreated back into their flat. It was impossible for him to unlock his door with the other man in his arms. Ben did his best to hide his reluctance as he let the guy slide down his body and regain his feet.

He was... Ben's eyes opened very wide as their eyes met. First and foremost, the guy was just as turned on by this strange encounter as Ben was. It took every ounce of self-control Ben possessed to step back, open his door and let them both inside.

Before he knew it they were both standing in his kitchen. Ben dragged his gaze away from the other guy. His attention fell on his fridge.

"You wanted something to eat," he remembered.

The man nodded.

"What would you...?" Ben's words faded away as he realized his chances of getting a verbal answer were nonexistent. Damn. "Sandwich?" he suggested.

A shake of the head.

"Omelet?"

Another head shake.

Ben pushed his fingers through his hair, shoving the mess of brown waves back from his face. "I've got a couple of take-out menus around here somewhere. Maybe you could point to something, or...?"

The man stepped forward, closing the gap between them. For some reason, Ben found himself retreating. He only stopped when his arse bumped into a kitchen cabinet.

His new friend didn't stop. Within seconds he was standing right in front of Ben, close enough for his net skirt to scratch at Ben's legs.

"What are you--?" Ben began.

The guy dropped to his knees.

Before Ben could utter another syllable, one black-gloved hand was sliding up his leg and squirming its way inside his running shorts. Words didn't seem to be a possibility anymore.

Behind the concealing presence of the bright blue shorts, satiny fabric wrapped around Ben's shaft and rubbed against the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum over the glans. Ben groaned with unexpected pleasure, but somehow he forced himself to reach out and put his hand over his crotch, stilling the other man's fingers.

"You don't have to do that."

One darkly made-up eyebrow went up. The hand inside Ben's shorts wriggled out from beneath the fabric.

Ben took a deep breath and let his hand drop back to his side. He couldn't let the guy suck him off in exchange for a meal. He'd done the right thing. Somehow, that wasn't much consolation. His cock didn't care too much about ethics right then.

The guy held up one gloved hand just in front of his face. Ben looked down at it. Pre-cum generously coated three of the other man's fingertips.

"Sorry, I..."

Words faded from Ben's thoughts as watched the kneeling man delicately lick the satiny fabric, cleaning every trace of pre-cum from it. The guy looked up at him, his expression contemplative, as if he were a connoisseur regarding the taste of men.

A moment passed. He nodded his approval. Ben let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.