Page 14 of Sweet Thing

“NO!” he commanded roughly. Simeon’s brows furrowed and he glared in confusion.

“What the fuck?” He exclaimed. Sim petulantly reached for the button again and was flung off Bastian’s lap to the other end of the sofa. Simeon landed in a heap of long, pale legs and flailing arms.

Simeon’s temper flared. “MERDE! WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM MAN? Jesus, there was no need to be so fucking rough!”

Bastian just stared at the naked male model, with wide, confused eyes.

“WHAT? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Sim shouted again, thoroughly pissed-off that the engine was running and his ride would not budge. Bastian was sitting on the edge of the sofa looking at him, perplexed. Simeon glared back in a fury and then, pushed Bastian in the chest with both hands. It was like pushing a brick wall.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY APARTMENT YOU FUCKING COCK TEASE!“ he screamed, and when Bastian continued to stare mutely, Simeon unleashed what Pieter would call a ‘Sim special.' Simeon erupted with a barrage of wind-milling, slapping hands and hair pulling.

Bastian was dragged from confusion into self-defense mode. His arms rose to guard his face as he ducked back from the assault. He grabbed the hand that gripped and pulled his blond hair and then caught the second slapping hand and dragged the screaming, naked young man on his belly over his thighs. Both stick thin wrists were secured with the grip of one of Bastian’s large hands. Simeon was restrained, screaming, and feral.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING APARTMENT Enfoiré.” (Fucker) Simeon was in shock; he couldn’t believe such a great evening was ending so badly. Sim needed to get the rich freak out of his place before things got uglier than he could handle.

Even though both men were the same height, Bastian’s brawn was double that of Sim’s. Simeon recalled the fear of waking in the Rehab clinic to find his wrists and ankles restrained. He was determined; he would not be restrained by Bastian or anyone else. Simeon wriggled like an eel in a bid to escape, but his wrists were held too securely. He kicked with his legs, but to no avail. Simeon snarled and screamed

“Let me go asshole!” He bit the fleshy part of Bastian’s left hand near the thumb. Bastian roared and slapped Simeon’s bare backside.

Sim yelped and stopped wriggling. He was stunned the man had struck him. No one struck him. All his fuck buddies knew he wasn’t into that, he wouldn’t be restrained, and he wouldn’t be smacked around. He didn’t want it. He couldn’t turn up for shoots covered in love bites and bruises from rough sex. Simeon turned his head and scowled at Bastian in shocked disbelief. Their eyes met, and Bastian slapped his bottom again. Sim cried out.

“STOP! Get your fucking—Ahhh, fucking hands off me—Ahhh”, Simeon gasped between slaps.

Bastian’s eyes were locked on Sim’s reaction to the spanks. There was something there, something in the way his eyes widened and his moist lips parted so beautifully with each strike. Again, Bastian’s hand landed on the pert white cheeks of the sexy, wild young man. Tears were welling in Simeon’s eyes.

“So ein frecher Junge“ (Such a naughty boy) Bastian sighed distantly in his smoky, German accented voice.

Even though tears still fell, Sim had calmed a little and was transfixed by the stinging pain on his skin. The steely, blue-eyed stare pinned him, and the deep masterful voice of Bastian Roth was telling him he was a naughty boy. He wanted the man to release his wrists so he could escape, but his body betrayed him once more. Simeon could feel his throbbing cock slap against Bastian‘s thigh each time he was spanked, and his body bucked and shuddered. Simeon lost himself in the dizzying new sensations. The slow, sweet burn of mingled pleasure and pain. Bastian released Sim‘s wrists and ran his hand down the young man‘s slender back and then both hands caressed the now rosy apples of his buttocks. He leaned down and ran his stubbled faced over Sim’s cheeks, kissed and bit the heated flesh, and laved at the redness with his long wet tongue. Simeon had such a perfect little ass.

Sim realized he was free to escape, but he didn’t. He writhed and groaned, reveling in the intoxicating sensations of the attention Bast was giving to his bottom. Then he reached a hand under Bastian’s leg to grip his own throbbing hard-on. He began fisting his cock rapidly, and then Bastian began again. Gentle caresses and kisses were followed by a sharp spank. Sim‘s body relaxed and melted into Bastian’s thighs, and then another spank set him rigid.

Sim couldn’t believe he was getting off on this, and he was getting off on it in the most confusing way. He was complicit in his own abuse. He lay pliant, and now willing, over this man’s hard thighs, and was consenting to have his ass spanked. Simeon was faintly aware of his body grazing Bastian’s groin and realized that the man still did not have an erection. Sim couldn’t understand it, but he let it go in his eagerness to reach his orgasm.

Between slaps, Bastian was kissing and licking the pain away to then set his skin aflame. Caught in a perfect, taut, bow-string balance of pain and pleasure Simeon cried and groaned. Bastian was still absently calling him a “frecher Junge“ (naughty boy) in a low seductive groan. It made Sim‘s stomach flip over with desire. Bastian ran a finger up the cleft of Simeon’s ass and then reached his left hand under Sim’s torso. Sim released his cock into Bastian’s hand and moved to toying with the bar nipple-piercing. Bastian tugged and spanked until Simeon cried out in a staccato of “uh uh uh“ gasps, shuddered violently, and spilled his warm seed into Bastian‘s hand.

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Simeon Duchamp lay naked across the clothed man’s thighs, his rump was red raw, and his mind was a jumble of sparking pain/pleasure nerve endings as he came down from an incredibly intense orgasm. He took in a rasping breath.

“What was that?“ he croaked. Sim lifted his head, glanced around at the man who had just wrung a violent orgasm from his body. Bastian‘s cum-covered hand was at his own mouth and was licking himself clean of Simeon’s spill, groaning as if he were tasting the most delightful ambrosia.

Sim was exhausted, his ass was sore, and he suddenly felt intensely vulnerable. He didn’t know what had just happened. It was reckless and crazy. He’d only done crazy sex when he was using. This was not what he wanted. Not anymore. He rolled off Bastian‘s lap and onto the carpeted floor and then scurried shakily to stand.

“Get out of my fucking apartment you sick fuck,“ He announced coldly, glaring at the crotch of tight suit trousers the man wore, and the lack of arousal after what they had just done. He looked up and fiercely met Bastian’s eyes.

Bastian’s brows knitted in confusion but he did nothing but stare at Sim as if seeing him for the first time. Simeon turned and ran to the bathroom and locked himself in.

Wearing his Japanese silk bathrobe, Simeon waited in the bathroom, furious with himself for submitting to being fucked like that. He stood with his ear to the door for several minutes until he heard the front door slam. Sim waited another minute to be sure and then left the bathroom with the toilet brush held aloft as a weapon. He tentatively investigated each room, the loo brush waving around like a sword. Bastian Roth had gone, much to Sim’s relief. Sim locked the front door and then headed to the bathroom, put the brush back. He stood with his back to the full-length bathroom mirror and then dropped the robe. The turquoise silk robe fluttered to the floor revealing that his bottom was raw, crimson, and sore from spanking and love bites. His butt cheeks throbbed like a second heart beat. Sim was stunned that he could actually see the rising outline of bruised fingerprints. His ass needed to be iced, or he wouldn’t sit down for days.

Sim retrieved his silk robe from the floor, slipped it back on, and headed to the kitchen to check his freezer compartment. To his horror and delight, as he rummaged through the contents of frozen yoghurt pops, a few ready meals, and frozen veggies, Sim found a miniature of vodka hiding at the back. His automatic reaction was one of glee; akin to finding a bank note in an old pair of jeans when broke. He grabbed the bottle and made to open it. Sim paused; the craving was a fiery itch under his skin. What harm would a miniature bottle of Vodka do? The words of warning from Dr.Schroeder came to mind

“Simeon, you have the liver of a fifty-year-old. Any more alcohol will kill you.”

The throbbing fire of his burning ass cheeks stole his attention back and made him think about all he would be losing with just one sip. Sim poured the contents of the bottle down the sink and then tossed the bottle in the bin. He would be damned if he let the booze get to him. Returning to the freezer compartment, Sim retrieved a bag of frozen peas, placed them on a chair, and gingerly sat on them while eating a frozen yoghurt pop. It was at moments like this he was relieved he lived alone; the sight of him sitting bare-arsed on a bag of frozen veggies was hilarious. If he hadn’t been so furious with Bastian, he would have laughed at himself. Simeon stayed put, fury stewing in his mind until he had consumed two yoghurt pops. He then stood to check his ass again. It was going to be pain whatever he chose—pain from the cold or pain from his burning skin. Damn Bastian Roth!

Sim showered and threw on a pair of silk pajama bottoms that were gentle on his skin. He nervously hobbled around his apartment, rechecking that all of the windows were locked, and then went down to make sure the front door was locked and dead bolted. When he shuffled into the living room, apart from the white towel resting on the arm of the sofa, there was no sign that another person had been there. Not one drop of his cum had been spilled on the couch or floor. Sim took a last glance around the room and then switched the light off. He paused at the door and switched the light on again. Something wasn’t right; he could feel it in his gut. Sim glanced around the room again and gasped when he noticed the absence.

“FUCKING BASTARD!” Simeon roared as he strode to look over the Space Oddity mural and photographs on the living room wall. In the center of the photo collection, there was a space where no space should be. The Polaroid of Pieter and Sim from New York was missing. Bastian Roth had taken a souvenir.

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