Thomas Allen Wright ascended the steps to the front entrance of his apartment building, sopping wet from the relentless rain and craving a cocktail. He realized as he entered the passcode into the security pad that he’d be walking into an empty apartment, and he would spend the night alone for the first time in a week.
His ongoing affair with Jonathan Greer, a corporate snooze with money and a raucous lifestyle, had come to a screeching halt as of late. For a long while, Jonathan had stayed with Thomas in his apartment, and was always there after Thomas’ late shift at the café. Thomas reminisced fondly about the countless nights they’d shared in each other’s company, all the hot lovemaking they’d indulged in. Jonathan liked to call it ‘fucking’ as he was still putting up a straight-acting façade for his black-tie boys in the office, which, much to Thomas’ discomfort, translated into Jonathan’s day-to-day life as well. And, somehow, it translated to the bedroom.
But perhaps that was why Thomas had been so drawn to him. Jonathan’s macho disposition coupled with his impossibly sculpted tan body made him irresistible. So much so that Thomas had found himself in the most ridiculous situations to be at Jonathan’s beck and call. He was too devoted, and for what? A good lay?
All this swirled in his head as he progressed down the hallway and to the elevator at the far end of the building. He slapped the Up button and waited for it to descend. He set his briefcase down on the checker-patterned carpet and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, wringing out the excess water dribbling down his leather jacket.
Thomas knew deep down that he was an attractive man with his cerulean eyes and timid smile. But he didn’t believe it himself. He’d often stare at his feet when good-looking men walked past him, or when girls smiled and winked at him on the street.
Like his mane of brown hair, his loafers were unkempt—scuffed, scratched and faded—and their age clearly showed. He looked about thirty, but he never disclosed his real age to anyone, not even his closest lover.
He was a shapeshifter. The animal he transformed into most commonly was a wolf, though he could take on many forms at any given moment. He’d once been a panther, which was his second-favorite creature to shift into. He so often chose a werewolf for the obvious reason—if anyone in the area were to see him in his animal form, he’d not be blinked at more than twice. Werewolves were accepted as part of society now, no longer a myth. If anyone had come across him as a panther, he’d be on the local news and, more than likely, a hunt would be called. How unusual it would be to see an exotic animal that was most prominent in the jungle in the Great Lakes. Lycans had been ‘out’ to the world for about ten years at this point, so he figured he’d blend in posing as one.
Perhaps the most useful part of his unique gift was the ability to not just shift into an animal but to shift into another person. He had first discovered this when he was twelve, in the bathroom stall of his middle school. A bully, whose name he’d long since forgotten, had maneuvered him into the girls’ room and was taunting him, shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs and banging on the stall door with his meaty fists. Desperate for an escape, little Thomas had shifted into Becca, a classmate he was friends with, and pranced out of the girls’ room, laughing under his breath at the look on his bully’s face when she exited the stall instead of him.
This became a fun little game in his youth, and it had expanded in adulthood. By now he’d adopted the appearances of some ten or eleven figures, a couple of them celebrities, and he had found it amusing to trick and confuse those around him. He quite enjoyed living someone else’s life now and then.
The result of this special ability was that he had an alter ego. Evan Winston was his name, and he was a British scholar from Edinburgh on visa in the United States to study biology at the University of Wisconsin in Oshkosh. Or so he told people. A completely fictional character with an appearance Thomas had appropriated from a fashion model in the UK, Evan was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and had a nice large cock which was useful in bed. Thomas’ own was a bit smaller with a modest girth, and this, paired with his prominent ass, meant that he bottomed all the time…in his true form. As Evan, he enjoyed the pleasure of being on top and having a sizable eight-inch cock. What a dream it was to be Mr. Evan Winston.
Jonathan did not know Evan, and Thomas intended to keep it that way. As a personal rule, he never used his trickery on those closest to him. Presently, the two people that met that criterion were Jonathan and his best friend Shalese.
One other secret that Thomas carried with himself was that he could never visibly age past where he was. His real age was sixty-two, though every time he shifted back to himself, he looked about thirty. He had the most coveted ability in all human existence—immortality, or at least that’s what he considered it. He had the pleasure of watching the world evolve around him, passing through multiple generations while maintaining an appearance much younger than all he interacted with. He’d see friends age and once they noticed that he looked the same as he did when they first met him, it was time to pack up his life and relocate. He’d traveled from New York City, where he was born, to Sacramento and all places in between. For a brief time, he’d lived on the Mediterranean coast, but had decided that the community was too closely knit. Others looked at him with suspicion, and he suspected that several of the city residents knew what he was. He had lasted five months there.
When Thomas touched a living being, the DNA of that life form would transfer to him, and his body would keep a record of that form at that point in time—the age, the shape… Everything about that being as it was when he touched it, he would transform into. He could shift into a variety of life forms, such as a snake, a dove and a Northern cardinal.
He’d never forget the time he met his childhood crush, Ava Charlotte, in person. A superstar pop icon, she had been much more reserved and humble than he’d imagined. He’d shaken her hand, and she’d given him the warmest smile in passing. She was thirty-four at the time, so whenever he shifted, she looked the same as she was that day. He carried the memory with him fondly and would shift into her physique every now and then to remember it.
He’d seen all kinds of men from all parts of the United States, and he’d gotten pretty good at guessing what their cocks looked like. He estimated he’d slept with close to seven hundred men throughout the country. His favorite were the solid boys with a southern drawl and an appetite for ass. They always had the nicest cocks. It was the Jersey boys and the surfers that had the most obnoxious personalities, and the smallest penises.
Thomas reached his apartment door and dug into his pocket for his keys, brushing against the head of his half-hard cock. He fumbled for the right key and, as he slid it in, it reminded him of the times he’d don Evan Winston and slide into those beautiful country boys. He overheard a conversation between a police officer, Thomas’ landlord and the tenant of apartment five. The man was irate, shouting something about an intruder shattering his balcony door. The officer asked if anything was stolen, to which the man said no, not that he could see. The landlord muttered a comment about not paying for the damages. When the man’s voice raised an octave, Thomas took that as his cue to hide.
He flung the door open and closed it behind him, then shed his clothes, tossing them to the floor. He slumped down onto the black sofa and played with himself, fantasizing about Jonathan and the way he so expertly made Thomas come while giving him oral.
Thomas was aware of the fact that he lived in Jonathan’s shadow, and no amount of pity or self-reliance could change that. His mind was always glued to Jonathan’s body, to his full, pink lips, to his sizable prospect too often concealed behind slim jeans. When he came on himself, he ran his fingers through the fresh hot cum and imagined Jonathan’s sensual hands sliding along his torso. Then he envisioned Jonathan spreading his ass and nuzzling his crevice into Thomas’ face. As he fantasized about licking Jonathan’s tight hole, his eager hand traced his abdomen and reached for his cock again, working it until he came a second time.
In a daze, he rolled off the couch and grabbed his nearby shirt, using it to clean himself off. Then he grabbed his other forgotten clothes and stashed them in his laundry basket just inside the bedroom. He dipped into the bathroom and indulged in a hot shower, all the while letting Jonathan’s hypnotic trance take over him.
After he’d stepped out of the shower and dried off, he wrapped the damp towel around his waist then reached into the pocket of his jeans in the basket for his phone. He looked up Jonathan’s contact and dialed.
Four rings later, he was greeted with a melancholy woman. “Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system…” He pressed the End button and tossed the phone onto his bed in a mild fit of annoyance. Of course, whenever he wanted to get ahold of Jonathan, he was never available. But the second Jonathan wanted to get ahold of him, Thomas answered at the first ring.
He knew he was too tied up in this delusion that he and Jonathan were meant to be, or rather that they were good together, which in itself was a fallacy. He knew for a fact that Jonathan couldn’t give a damn about him and what he spent his time doing. He guessed that if Jonathan knew that he thought of him so often, he’d probably either shrug it off or ditch him altogether. This thought ravaged Thomas’ mind as he made himself a vegetable stir-fry.
As he was about to dish up the food, his cell phone rang. Eagerly, he bolted into the bedroom and answered. The rough, sexy voice on the other end was unmistakable.
“Hey, Jonathan,” Thomas said with a sigh. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I just got back from a twelve-hour day,” Jonathan grumbled. He sounded worn. “Mounds of paperwork and bitchy clients. My head fuckin’ hurts.”
“I bet it does,” Thomas sympathized. Then, feeling ballsy, he said, “Would a blow job help?”
Jonathan sighed, and there was a brief pause. Then he said, “Yeah, it would. I’ve been thinking about your ass all day. I want it.”
“Come over. I’m making stir-fry.”
Another sigh. “I can’t drive.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m a little drunk,” Jonathan confessed.
“Already? When did you get home?”
“Yeah, already. About an hour ago. Downed five shots and I’m on my second beer.”
“How about I bring the food over to you?”
“Mmmmh,” Jonathan moaned. Thomas imagined he was biting his lip. “Sex and free food. Sign me up.”
“I can be there in twenty.”
“Make it fifteen.” Click.
* * * *
Thomas made it fifteen.
Or seventeen, to be precise. He pulled into the driveway of Jonathan’s condominium. His dashboard read 11:01 p.m. He yawned and slid out of his car. The chilling autumn air nipped at his nose, crystallizing his breath. He locked the car before walking up the steps to Jonathan’s front door, then knocked, standing around while hugging his arms. The container of hot food warmed his palm.
Jonathan answered a moment later. His eyes were glazed over, and he was clearly drunk-drunk. He reeked of cinnamon whiskey.
“C’mere, sexy,” he mumbled, tugging at Thomas’ pants and guiding him inside. He greeted him with a wet kiss on the mouth, and four more on his neck.
“Food first?” Thomas asked.
Jonathan looked at him like he was delusional. “No. I want your ass first.”
Thomas dropped the container and shuffled over to the huge tan couch against the far wall of Jonathan’s living room. All the lights were off, save for a night light in the bathroom, which was bright enough to highlight Jonathan’s insatiable torso as he whipped his shirt over his head and flung it aside.
The moonlight leaked in from the west through the bay window. The curtains were wide open, but Thomas didn’t care. His body was writhing with anticipation.
The silver light from the moon danced across Jonathan’s abdomen, showcasing all the curves of his muscles and the deep crevice in the middle of his chest. He was already breathing quite heavily—he, too, writhed with desire. His pecs moved inward and out, and his large brown nipples were rock-solid. His short-cropped black hair was awry, and his brown eyes looked down on Thomas’ body as he slipped out of his clothes.
As Thomas gripped the band of his tight black underwear, Jonathan grabbed his hands and said, “No, this is my favorite part.”
Thomas let his arms fall to his sides, and Jonathan glided his hands up and down his abdomen, feeling every rivet of his muscles. Then Jonathan nibbled at the pulsating bulge concealed behind the designer underwear. Jonathan reached up into Thomas’ crotch through his underwear and let loose his hard cock. He sensually licked the head, and it jumped in response. Then he wrapped his lips around it and gave it a suck. Thomas bit his lip and moaned.
Then, off came the underwear. They slipped down his legs like silk and hung around his ankles as Jonathan gripped his shaft in a fist and sucked on Thomas’ balls. Thomas inhaled. Jonathan let go and slid his lips down the shaft of Thomas’ cock. A wave of ecstasy overcame Thomas as Jonathan sucked on his dick, keeping it pulsing in his mouth for a second, then he sucked in a breath and released. Thomas’ cock slapped against his own stomach, Jonathan’s wet saliva sticking to his skin.
Jonathan grabbed him by the waist and flipped him over. Thomas rested his arms on the top of the couch and spread his legs.
Jonathan slapped his ass cheeks, making a satisfying smack reverberate throughout the room. Thomas groaned. Jonathan dove right in, nuzzled his face in Thomas’ furry crevice and playfully licked his hole. Thomas took a sharp inhalation, arching his back, his muscles constricting. Jonathan’s nose brushed against the hairs on his ass, and he closed his eyes as Jonathan slithered his tongue into Thomas’ hole, wetting it for what was coming next.
After a few breaths of air and several minutes of rimming, Jonathan pulled away.
Then, Thomas gasped as he felt his lover enter him from behind, Jonathan’s sizable cock sliding deep into his body. The first thrust was always the most painful. His muscles contracted around Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan pulled out and went back in all the way this time, pushing until his balls touched Thomas’. Jonathan gained momentum, gripping Thomas’ hips and pulling him in as he pounded him. Thomas let out a short gasp every time Jonathan’s cock hit the deepest point.
Thomas closed his eyes, gathering his breath and preparing for the next thrust. The initial pain was over. Now he could indulge in the pleasure of his lover inside him.