A Modicum of Control

"Get on your knees," Alex said as he sat down on the couch.

The stern command fueled the fire that had sparked as I'd watched him saunter through the front door of our apartment wearing nothing but his running shorts. His skin was still flushed from the exertion of his run.

I cooked when I was anxious, and Alex went running. After we started fucking, Alex took up running as if he were training for a marathon. I could see the change in his body, in his calves and his ass, in the gradual disappearance of the soft layer that used to cushion his muscles. I couldn't say I didn't appreciate every tight, lithe, sinewy inch of him, but I wished he weren't so unsettled.

I knelt down between his spread thighs and buried my face in the musky crotch of his running shorts.

One thing we'd both found out about me was how much I liked being "forced" to suck his cock, eat out his ass, lick his armpits when he'd come home all sweaty and ripe, his skin glowing and his muscles still warm and pulsing.

I put one hand on his thigh and another on his balls as I tongued his hardening cock through his running shorts.

He grasped my hair in his fingers and pulled me off his cock.

"Take your shirt off, Jeff."

At times he could be incredibly loving and sweet. Other times, he could be incredibly dominant and domineering.

I wasn't sure which I liked better.

"Yes sir," I said, pulling my shirt over my head, gasping as he roughly twisted my nipples.

The first time I'd called him sir during sex had been more of a joke than anything- a natural but flippant response to a firm command. But it made his cock harder and sent shivers down my spine and the more I said it, the less silly it felt.

"Hands behind your back."

"Yes sir."

"Good boy. Tongue out."

I stuck my tongue out and looked up into his eyes as he pulled his cock out over the waistband of his running shorts.

He rubbed his cock head under my nose and across my cheeks, looking me in the eyes the whole time, before placing it on my tongue. I let it rest there, enjoying the musky, salty taste of him.

"You want my cock, Jeff?"

I didn't respond, just stared brazenly back at him, a slight grin tugging at the corners of my open lips, the lust in my eyes answering his question.

Alex looked magnificent, imperiously reclining on the couch, legs spread, his hairy, muscular chest rising and falling with his breath.

Licking his still slightly floppy dick with my hands behind my back was a bit of a tactical challenge. After letting me scrabble after it with my tongue for a minute or two, he held his quickly hardening cock just under the head and let me lick and suck on it like an ice cream cone. He was making breathy little moans and I could see his pelvis twitching from the effort of holding still while I serviced him.

There were times when I felt completely submissive under his forceful control, but there were times like this, when I felt powerful making him squirm. The ability to make him completely unhinged with lust was intoxicating. The heat of it built up inside me until I wanted to rut against him like a bitch in heat, wanted to coat him in my cum.

"Oh, Christ, Jeff. Use your hands, man."

I held his balls in one hand, and wrapped the other hand around his cock while I licked and sucked on the head. I sucked his cock as far deep into my mouth as I could and let him fuck my face.

Alex pulled me up onto the couch so that I was straddling him and pulled me into a kiss. I melted into him, into his strong arms wrapped around me, his mind-numbing kisses.

He stood up and pulled me to his bedroom.

Alex lay on his back and watched me through half-lidded eyes while I rolled the condom on him and lowered myself down, easing his cock inside me. The first moment of penetration still held that incredible, heady mixture of pain, pleasure, and anticipation. I raised and lowered myself on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size.

After a few minutes of letting me be in control, Alex rolled me on my back, held my legs out to the side, and started thrusting into me. Alex had clearly learned a few things from his slutty past. Or maybe it was just natural talent. Whatever it was, there was this wicked way he could roll his hips when he was fucking me, almost like they were detached from his torso, which looked unbelievably hot, and felt even hotter.

My legs were wrapped around his back, the muscles in his arms straining to hold up his heaving chest, and his hips rolling as his cock fluidly and relentlessly slid in and out of me. And then my legs were over his shoulders, his hands on my hips holding me still, nothing but his hips moving, pounding his cock into me. Every hard, hot, thick inch of it filling me up, making me moan and pant, my head rolling from side to side involuntarily as I felt the cum boiling up in my balls, on the brink of shooting.

Finally, I felt his hand wrap around me. He jerked me off with quick, firm strokes until I came, feeling his cock slamming into me while my asshole quivered and contracted around him. Alex pulled out, pulled of the condom, and shoved his dick down my throat. It only took a few forceful thrusts before he came.

Afterwards, he rolled up on his side, his back to me, curled in on himself. Sometimes after sex the two of us would stare at each other in wide-eyed, grinning amazement, laughing at the dumbest things and pinching and poking at each other. But sometimes, and I could never quite anticipate when, he'd get this weird look in his eyes, halfway between sorrow and remorse, and would shut me out completely. When he'd get like that, withdrawn and distant, I'd invariably feel a twinge of doubt and regret.

It's not like I didn't get a little withdrawn myself, especially when we first started fucking. After the initial euphoria of orgasm would wear off, this sense of uneasiness would start crawling up my spine.

So, maybe I pulled back slightly, but when Alex pulled away, he completely shut off. It was as if he put up an invisible wall between us. At first I tried acting normally, but he would get so weird, would ignore whatever I said to him and pull back from my touch, so I learned to give him his space. I'd fall asleep if I were tired, or take a shower and fool around in the kitchen until he'd re-emerge from whatever dark place he went to.

*****

When Alex and I first met, back when I still thought I was straight but everyone else was already convinced I wasn't, I used to get hit on by guys a lot. Alex was probably the worst of them. He wouldn't take no for an answer. It was kind of annoying, but it was also kind of flattering. He was charming as hell and fucking gorgeous, and from what I could tell had his pick of boys on campus. If I'd even had half a clue that I would want to sleep with him, I definitely would have thought Alex was way the fuck out of my league.

To make a long story short, in the context of him hitting on me all the time, we got to know each other pretty well, and next thing I knew we were good friends. I had a small group of people I was pretty close to, but by the end of sophomore year, I'd say Alex was actually my best friend. Alex, on the other hand, was incredibly outgoing and charismatic, and people were drawn to him like flies, but it wasn't until we got to be close that I realized how much of that was a defense against actually getting close to people. I swear to God he knew everyone on campus, but I got the feeling I might have been the first person he'd ever really opened up to.

In addition to meeting Alex freshman year, I also met Kate, the love of my life. For me, at least, it was love at first sight, but she was a junior and didn't even know I existed. I finally got up the courage to ask her out at the beginning of my sophomore year, and we got pretty serious pretty quickly.

Kate was absolutely the perfect woman for me. She was smart and gorgeous and funny. Every morning I woke up next to her I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

We were completely compatible in just about every way. And sexually... Jesus... First of all, I tended to be a little submissive, and Kate was the first girl I'd been with who enjoyed tying me up as much as I enjoyed being tied up. But it wasn't just about the power dynamics- she was experienced and open-minded and generous and curious in bed. I'd never had anyone be so into my body before, and into exploring every part of it. Being with her gave me a whole new sense of self-confidence, and definitely a hell of a lot of sexual experience. She got off on being the teacher, and I got off on being the student.

Kate graduated in the spring, and got a job in Madison fucking Wisconsin, too far to visit regularly. We decided to do the long distance thing and we visited each other over the summer. But even though I knew it wasn't going so well, it hit me out of left field when she called me to tell me she'd met someone else, and that she wanted to break things off with me before she did anything with him. I was completely devastated. Alex and I had just moved into an apartment together, and he was amazing. He never seemed to get tired of all my bitching and moaning, and was always there with a bowl of soup or a bottle of whiskey when I needed him. If he hadn't been my best friend already, that would've cemented the deal.

After the whole thing with Kate we got a lot closer. Or maybe intimate is a better word. I had honestly thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her, and when our relationship ended, I was feeling incredibly fragile and lonely. He hugged me a lot, and would throw his arm around my shoulder and run his fingers through my hair when we were sitting next to each other. I liked how physical we could be together, there was a kind of physical comfort I had with him that I didn't have with any of my other guy friends.

If I were being completely completely honest, I'd have to admit that there was a little tiny part of me that kind of got off on Alex's physicality. He was the kind of guy who was completely competent and in control, and the way he touched me was always incredibly confident and even a little bit... possessive. It set off all my little submissive buttons, but I'd gotten pretty good at ignoring them with Alex.

Even I had been interested, the politics of sleeping with Alex were just too complicated. I was pretty sure he'd hop into bed with me in a second if I asked him to, but I also knew that it would be different for both of us. For him, I'd just be one of millions, but for me, he'd be the first guy I'd ever slept with, and maybe a step towards exploring a part of myself I wasn't completely sure I was ready to explore.

And that's when Craig happened.

It was a couple of months after Kate dumped me when Alex dragged me to that party at his friend Rick's house, which of course meant it was fucking crawling with gay guys. Alex and I started pounding shots, and then we started dancing together. I always loved dancing with him- it made me feel so uninhibited and free, and it was the one time I didn't have to feel guilty about letting him touch me. Alex was starting to grab me kind of forcefully and grinding his hips and BAM! It was like, boom, all of the sudden I wanted him to take me back home and fuck my brains out.

I'd always been a little bit intrigued by the way he touched me and looked at me, and I'd felt little electric sparks before, but this was like a lightening bolt. It freaked me the fuck out, so I told him I needed to cool off a little bit. I went to get a drink, and when I looked back over to where he was dancing, he had his arms around Craig, who I knew from my art history classes. Alex was all over him, completely controlling him. It was unbelievably erotic. Craig was pressing his ass against Alex's crotch, and moving his hips like he was getting fucked, and for a moment I had this flash of being in Craig's place, teasing Alex until he couldn't stop himself, until he had to have his way with me, forcing me to do whatever he wanted, forcing me to like it. I must have been drunk as fuck, because it was so wrong for me to be scoping out my best friend like that. I was starting to get a little dizzy, so I grabbed a glass of water and went outside to get some fresh air. I was sitting on the front porch, when Craig came outside and sat next to me

And it all just kind of unraveled from there. Next thing I knew we were blowing lines upstairs, and then we were at some hipster dance party across campus, and then we were making out against a tree, and then we were back at my apartment with my dick up his ass.

I guess that's when the first damn broke. When my first wall of defenses started to crumble. Already I was starting to look at Alex a little longer, to notice the swell of his pecs in his thin t-shirts, the smooth power of his movements.

And then... well, it seemed like all he had to do was mention the possibility of him fucking me and the idea grew claws and caught hold in my brain. I started to wonder about it, to imagine what it would be like to let Alex fuck me. I thought about kissing him- a weird thought, kissing your best friend, but not entirely unpleasant. I imagined him using his fingers inside me and then his cock, and how heavy he'd feel on top of me.

It was hot. Gut churning, can't stop thinking about it hot. Hot in the way the thought would accidentally slip through my head during a lecture, and I'd feel my dick start to stir and my nipples tightening under my shirt. Hot like the thought of it would slip through my head as I was jerking off at night.

The first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke.

But the thought of it was too hot to ignore. Hot like I'd find myself staring at him and getting hard. And then at night, the thought of him fucking me would be what would start me jerking off, instead of the other way around, and I'd use my fingers to fuck my ass, imagining that it was Alex's cock inside of me. I'd cum gasping, my head rolling side to side.

And the whole time, I kept feeling more and more drawn to him, and he kept getting more and more distant.

I think of myself as someone who tends to read people pretty well, so I must have been in pretty deep denial if it took so long for me to figure out what was going on with him. I was having coffee with my friend Sarah, and she was talking to me about this guy she was completely in love with. They'd broken up and he'd started dating this other girl. Sarah was telling me about how much it hurt just to be in the same room as him, and how she kept trying to avoid him, but they had three classes together and lived in the same apartment building.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. What if Alex were in love with me? At first I dismissed it, because the thought was so fucking ridiculous, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It's just about the only thing I could think of that could possibly explain why he got so upset about Craig.

I felt a paralyzed by this knowledge. And even weirder about thinking about him when I jerked off. And I knew it was true, because once I let myself consider the possibility I started picking up on all the little clues I hadn't let myself notice before. The way he looked at me, the way he reacted when I touched him, the kind of topics he avoided with me, the way he laughed at my jokes, the way his eyes lit up when we were together in a way I wasn't used to seeing- or maybe just never noticed.

But what the fuck was I supposed to do about it? I loved him, probably more than I'd ever loved a friend before, but wasn't in love with him. I didn't even know if I could be. And as curious as I'd become with thinking about his dick in my ass, I wasn't sure exactly how much I'd actually like it in reality, or what the aftermath would be like.

But in spite of every rational argument against it, every night I was thinking about getting fucked. Not even caring how foreign and unexpected those thoughts were, just getting off on the newness and the heat of it. I'd stroke my cock and lube up my fingers. They were long and agile, but I started to hunger for something more substantial inside me.

In my closet was a box. A lock box filled with every kinky present Kate bought me over the year that we dated. I hadn't touched it since she dumped me. I felt a twinge in my chest when I thought of her, the way she could dominate me so slowly and seductively, so sometimes I didn't even really realize what was happening until I was already firmly tied to the bed, the way she pushed every one of my boundaries, they way she could make me cum harder and longer than I thought was humanly possible.

I missed her so much I couldn't stand it. I wanted to call her and tell her about everything- about Craig, about Alex, about how fucking lonely I felt.

Instead, I took out the dildo she'd bought for me. I remembered how terrified I'd been the first time she told me she was going to fuck me with it, and then how much I'd grown to crave it.

Back in bed, I imagined that I was waking up one morning and realized that Alex had tied me, face down, spread eagle to the bed. He slapped my ass, hard, again and again, telling me that he was going to punish me for being such a little tease. He entered me roughly and fucked me hard and fast, slapping my ass, telling me I deserved it. I fucked myself with the dildo, rougher than usual, needing to get lost in just a little bit of pain, needing to get lost in the fantasy.

But the next night I was at it again, and the next night, and the night after that. My asshole started to get a little loose from the constant fucking. I started to feel a little weird around Alex. In real life, our friendship was still completely platonic, but when I looked at him, I could also see the man who fucked me so thoroughly every night. Our friendship still felt a little fragile, a little less than it used to be. But I couldn't seem to stop myself from fantasizing about him at night.

And then I just couldn't seem to stop myself and found myself coming home early from a party, crawling into bed with him, terrified and exhilarated by my sudden and complete loss of control. The intensity of being under his control, physically and mentally. The intensity of the connection- the fact of him being inside of me, his body inside of my body- the knowledge of it and the sensation.

*****

There were a million and one good reasons why I should never, ever have slept with Alex in the first place. The major one, though, was that he was a mess. I loved him like brother, and I would have lain down my life for him, but he was kind of an emotional train wreck.

He was an emotional train wreck, and I was straight.

People had been telling me I was gay since I was a kid. It was an uphill battle convincing everyone (including my parents...) that I was straight, even if it wasn't entirely true. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely into women, but there was always a part of me that was a little curious about what men had to offer. But it was more like a passing thought through my head than something I'd think about when I beat off. Thing is, I knew if I mentioned this to anyone, they'd immediately jump to the conclusion I was queer, which is why I didn't mention it to anyone. Any kind of passing attraction to men I'd ever had had was never strong enough for me to actually want to go home with a guy.

And then Alex fucked me.

He just had to fuck me once, and all of the sudden I couldn't keep my hands off him, couldn't remember how exactly I had been so convinced I was straight, that there was a reason for living that didn't include his dick and my ass.

Being fucked by Alex was such a thoroughly different experience from fucking women. When he was fucking me, Alex was like this forceful, potent beast- crouched over me, his hips slamming into me, he seemed almost like a lion or a panther- something powerful and graceful and ruthless. Being fucked by him was being completely under his power, psychologically and physically. I'd hear these sounds coming out of my mouth- moans and whimpers- I didn't even know I was making, sounds I didn't even know I was capable of making. As much as it gave me mind-blowing orgasms, there was part of me that reacted against being so vulnerable.