Need to Be Needed

"I bet we can go back to my hotel room and Temple won't even know you were missing."

"Of course he will." I was panting lightly, though. I couldn't hide the pull of my former lover now that he was rubbing my cock through my trouser material, and my mind went to that "foot long" cock of his, which I could feel hardening at the small of my back.

"You can't win the bet without testing it," Zane whispered in my ear. "Remember how fast I can make you come. You will come to my hotel with me, now."

Well, when he put it as a command . . .

* * * *

"Oh, God, oh God, oh God," I chanted, panting, as I lay on my back at the foot of the hotel room bed, with Zane standing on the floor between my legs, my right leg running up his chest, and the bulb of his cock rubbing across my prostate.

"Oh, shit, I'm going to come," I cried out and then I did. I cried out then as he went deep with the cock.

"Bet I can make you come again before I do," he muttered. And he did.

"That was as good as of old," he murmured, hunched over me, his kisses covering my face, pecs, and nipples. "But, no, not quite as good," he added. "It will never be as good as when we could bareback."

"No, not that good," I admitted. "But very good."

"As good as Temple can do?"

I didn't want to lie, so I didn't answer. Nobody had the talented cock that Cole did.

"Come to California with me, Mike. Leave him. He's cruel to you. You've become a nonperson. You deserve better. We can be monogamous. I can bareback you again."

"He needs me."

"I'm sure he does. But I'm sure he doesn't know it. You've given him too much, too easily."

"I have to go," I said, rolling over and away from him, and reaching for my clothes. "He'll wonder where I am."

"I have bet he won't," Zane said.

Zane won that bet. When I got back to the apartment, Cole wasn't there—and hadn't been there. I showered and, naked, slipped under the covers of the bed. Well after midnight I heard the mob arrive and move into the living room. Cole's voice rang out over the hubbub, so I knew he was home. I drifted off to sleep, and when I woke, all was quiet. But Cole wasn't in the bed.

I came out of the bed and padded into the living room. The place was tossed into the usual chaos after one of Coles' frequent parties, but he wasn't there, or in the kitchen, dining room, or study. Absentmindedly, I put the living room back in order. On my way back to bed, I heard them in one of the guest rooms. Cole was covering a young blond missionary style. I recognized the blond as an apprentice stage hand at the lecture—not one of the thuggish, seasoned stage hands I had fantasized about.

Both were grunting like rutting animals. The young blond was rubbing Cole's buttocks with the heels of his feet in tune with the rhythm of Cole's thrusts—something I'd never done before. Cole was grunting like he enjoyed it. I stood there and watched for a bit, but I knew that Cole could fuck for longer than I could stand watching. The two began bouncing up and down wildly on the bed, the young blond crying out at the hard taking. I turned and went back to the bed in the master bedroom.

Near dawn, Coles came to bed, nudged my thighs apart with his knees, and fucked me in the same position he'd used on the young blond and just as vigorously, bouncing our bodies up and down on the mattress. I even rubbed his buttocks with the heels of my feet as he thrust hard inside me, again and again and again. If he related the heel rubbing to what I'd seen the young blond doing, he didn't remark on it.

If I'd said all was right with the world because Cole, in the end, had come back to me, I would have been lying. Zane had been right. Cole showed no hint of having known that I'd left the auditorium during his program. He couldn't have come looking for me afterward—he'd gone looking for the stage hand apprentice. He was completely innocent to any thought of where I'd been or how I'd gotten home.

I doubt he'd even have cared if I told him that I'd let Zane fuck me.

And, worse than that, the young blond's name was Jared. He was twenty-one and gorgeous, and when I woke the next morning and went out to the kitchen to make coffee, he was still in the guest room, once more being fucked by Cole—making enough noise that I knew he was being fucked good by Cole.

* * * *

"We meet again. That's quite a pile of packages. Doing your Christmas shopping?"

I turned to see that Zane was there, at my side, in the Third Avenue Bloomingdale's department store. It had been five days since I'd slept with him in his hotel room. I had assumed he'd finished his business and gone back to the West Coast. He hadn't. I'd also spent the five days mulling over his request that I go to California with him.

It gave me a little thrill to know he hadn't left New York yet. I'd already decided that if he asked me to his hotel room again, I'd go.

"I'm doing Cole's Christmas shopping," I answered.

"I could have guessed," Zane said. "So, did he miss you the other night?"

"No," I said. I almost added something, but didn't. Zane noticed that.

"There is more to that, isn't there?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes you do. He didn't come home alone, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"The young, blond stage hand—picked out for Cole and not for you?"

"Yes."

"And the next night, yet another young man—younger than you? Fucking him longer than he fucked you?"

"Yes."

"That one's name is Sean Runion. He's the new singer in the band now playing the Chelsea Bathhouse," Zane said. "Temple has been fucking him for over a month now. He's twenty-three."

"You knew."

"Everyone knows, Mike. I didn't want to be the one to tell you. But it adds to my reason to ask you to come home to California with me. Temple is all about Temple. He won't make an honorable break with you. He'll just follow his dick on to new conquests and let you slowly fade away—in the end just using you as his housekeeper. It's a miracle that you've been with him for ten years. Runion stayed the night, did he?"

"He's still there after four days," I said, almost choking on the words. "He's rarely been out of bed ever since." At least the blond stage hand had only been a one-night stand.

"And Temple?"

"In bed with him. For the first time I've known him, Cole isn't keeping his strict writing hours. He fucks me too, but not as often as he's fucking Sean—even when he should be writing."

"Come to California with me, Mike. I'll treat you right."

"He needs me."

"Apparently not enough."

"If he'd just admit that he needs me."

"Cole Temple admit that to anyone? It's not going to happen. What are you going to do now?"

"About Cole?"

"No, about us. Are you going to come back to my hotel room with me?"

"You don't know how badly I wanted to do this back in that room we shared," Zane told me as he pushed my belly against the tiles of the shower in his hotel room bathroom and fucked me from behind under the cascading water. "You remember that the shower wasn't big enough. I did fuck you over the sink once, though."

"Yes you did. I remember," I murmured, as I widened my stance, wanting him to reach ever higher inside me.

"And over the toilet."

"Yes"

"And on the floor. We were young and wild. We could at least be wild again."

"Could we?" I dearly wondered if that was possible again. And, yet, here we were in his shower, with him covering me from behind.

* * * *

The doorbell woke me. I turned over and moaned. I couldn't close my legs. Zane had fucked me through the night as if had he'd taken that long dick of his out of me, I might have escaped and bummed my way back to the East Coast. Despite the soreness deep inside me—the feel of his accumulate cum—what, four, five times in the night?—since Zane's answer to safety was regular checking and a pledge of monogamy rather than condoms, I found myself reaching for him, missing the possession of my channel by his cock.

Somewhat of a revelation had hit me between the second and third fuckings, though. I was tired then and told him so. I begged for a respite. It didn't matter to him. He'd slapped my legs apart, pinned me to the mattress with his cock, and pumped me hard. This was about him and what he wanted. He thought no more about me and my needs than Cole did. I was as much just a trophy ass channel for him as I had been for Cole. With Zane, it was all about Zane too. Could I help it if I aroused men like this—even at my age? Was it all about sex?

I reached out for him, as interested in a cuddle as a fuck. He wasn't there, though. That's when it caught up with me that there had been a doorbell ringing.

I heard him call up the staircase from the foyer of his Hollywood Hills mansion. "A visitor for you, Mike. I'll put him in the living room and go make coffee." His voice sounded flat, like he was of two minds on whether to let me know someone was here to see me. I had no idea who it might be.

I quickly pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals and clumped downstairs.

"I had a hell of a time finding you." Cole's voice sounded hurt, on the edge of anger. "Sorry, I shouldn't have put it that way," he continued, visibly calming down, forcing himself to release tension. "I just was worried as hell."

"I couldn't talk to you about it, Cole," I answered. "We never seemed to be able to talk to each other about it."

"I need you, Mike. I need you to come back. My life is all fucked up. You gave it order." His voice was choked up and I could see the glisten of tears in his eyes. Feigning such an emotion was beyond his capability, I believed. I must take him seriously. This was well beyond the natural arrogance of Cole Temple.

"That's something you've never said before, Cole," I said.

There was a catch in his voice when he answered. "I know. You know me. You've been everything to me for the past decade. I couldn't function without you. I can't function without you."

"Do you mean that Sean can't cook or clean house?"

"Sean is gone. I realized that you misunderstood about him."

"What's to misunderstand? Sean is young; his body is supple. He is in awe of you, which we both know is something you must have. Do you mean you're giving up fucking men in the baths and bringing them home?"

He gave me a blank look. He didn't have the foggiest notion he was doing anything out of the ordinary—for him.

"No, you can't stop doing that, can you?"

"You're different," he said. "You're above all of that. Those are just casual lays. I've kept you with me for a decade. We've been together for a long time. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"It tells me that I can't expect you to change, certainly, but I can expect something else from you."

"What? Whatever it is, I'll say it, do it. I need you. I need what you give me, what you are to me. I can't function without you. What is it that I need to say or do?"

"You just did," I said, with a sigh. "I can't expect you not to be the great, legendary Cole Temple, I guess, but we'll have to work on a little more recognition of that need you are talking about."

Temple rose from his seat and extended his hand. "Let's go home, Mike. Life isn't perfect, but we can work at it."

When Zane came into the room with coffee cups on a tray, he found the room deserted, the front door yawning open, and Cole Temple and me gone.