Page 30 of Hard Count
“I was twenty-one. They didn’t explain what I was signing.”
“No,” Jayson agreed. “They were enthusiastic. They liked being on the paperwork. They liked the perks of being called a manager. Your mother sure liked the personal shopper at Chanel. The revised agreements came later. After the accident with your father. You signed those yourself.”
“I was grieving.”
“Yes. I managed the estate paperwork during that period as well. I remember you were grateful at the time. Those days are gone apparently,” Jayson replied.
The last of the light was gone from the lawn. The pool glowed faintly, underwater lamps on a timer.
“I was grateful, I mean I am grateful,” Piper said.
Jayson reached for his belt. The sound of leather through metal filled Piper's ears.
Jayson rested a hand lightly on the back of Piper’s neck, applying pressure.
Piper lowered himself slowly to his knees. The floor was cold, that was the first thing he noticed, the cold working through his jeans.
The song had switched toLove T.K.Oby Teddy Pendergrass.
Jayson’s hand was warm. The scotch glass sat on the table, the ice almost entirely melted, a ring of condensation spreadingslowly across the polished wood. Piper obeyed as he was taught to do.
This never felt like agreement, but it was acknowledgment.
The door from the hallway opened.
Piper stayed facing forward. He heard two sets of footsteps. Italian leather on the wood. He heard a glass being picked up and another one being set down. He didn’t have to turn around. He had heard this same configuration in this same house many times before.
Jayson said, without looking up, “You know Preston. I believe you met Richard in New York last spring.”
Piper said nothing. Jayson had never required greetings.
Two men whose faces he had been introduced to at foundation dinners, photographed next to at fundraisers, shaken hands with in green rooms. Two men whose names the trust board listed on the donor wall. Their faces now in this room in Atherton in configurations Piper hadn’t been asked about.
He didn’t have to be told. He knew the choreography.
Jayson unzipped his pants. Piper opened his mouth without being told. Jayson slid in and held the back of Piper’s head, not tight. Jayson was thick. Piper breathed through his nose to loosen his throat to take a cock this size. He took what he was given, the weight of it pushing the back of his throat open, spit already starting to run down his chin because Jayson did not bother to slow for the gag. Piper did not gag. He had trained the gag out of his body years ago. His eyes stayed on the ring of condensation across the polished wood. The ring was widening in slow motion as Piper worked Jayson’s rock hard cock.
Behind him he heard the second man, Preston undo his belt. A hand landed flat against his lower back, warm, possessive. Another hand slid his trousers down to his thighs. A finger, with minimal lube from a bottle Jayson kept in the drawer of the sidetable, pressed against him. Preston pushed his finger in without asking, straight past the second knuckle, and held.
The stretch burned from the cold fingers entering his ass.
His body did what his body had been trained to do over nine years in this house. His hole opened.His shoulders remained level. His lips worked around Jayson’s cock in the practiced rhythm Jayson preferred, spit wet at the corners of his mouth, drool running down his chin onto the floor. He didn’t make a sound. He never made a sound at Atherton. Objects did not make sounds, so why should he.
Preston pushed his cock into Piper’s ass hole without warning and minimal lube meant he felt every inch of it, the drag of it, the burn of being opened too fast, and his body took it because his body knew how to take it. The third man, Richard, had moved to the chair near the fire and sat with his drink and watched Piper get pounded from behind. The spit roasting was nothing new and was a favorite of Jayson’s friends and colleagues.
Richard was watching him from the side, and was hard in his suit pants and Piper would need to address this. This was part of how the room was supposed to work.
They rotated him. Like expensive equipment. Jayson didn’t participate beyond getting his cock sucked and he sat back in his chair, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, glass in hand, stroking his cock, watching with the same calm certainty with which he watched earnings calls. Preston used him from behind, hard and steady, hand wrapped around the back of Piper’s neck. Richard took the other position, slower, watching Piper’s face while he did it.
They switched. One came inside him with a quiet grunt, hot cum filling him up. The other came in his mouth, a warm stream hit the back of his throat and he swallowed as ordered.
The first pulled out, slowly, cum already leaking out of Piper around the withdrawing cock and running down the inside of histhigh, cleaned himself on a towel from the tray, and sat down without a word. The second tapped Piper’s shoulder twice to indicate he was done.
At some point, Piper came. No one offered a towel.
His body did it without asking him. He processed it the way he processed the condensation ring. A thing happening at a specific moment on a specific surface. It wasn’t pleasure. It was mechanical. His cock had been hard since the second man had entered him because bodies did what bodies do when prostates were stimulated, and Piper had learned a long time ago that the part of himself that was still a person was not located in his body in this room. His body spilled thin and unimpressive onto the floor between his knees. Nobody acknowledged it.
When it was over, he stayed on his knees for another minute because Jayson hadn’t told him he could stand. The men spoke quietly about the following week’s flight schedule.
