Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

The next chance Goran had to look at the table behind the trellis, the senator was gone. But the young man—Tyler, Goran now knew—was still sitting there, in shock and crying quietly.

Hot dog, Goran thought. He headed straight for the bar and poured another glass of the better, heady sauvignon blanc.

"Here," drink this, Goran said, putting the glass of wine down in front of Tyler and pulling the chair the senator had vacated around to the side of the table so that he could sit close to the young man. He moved a knee so that it was between Tyler's knees. Tyler didn't seem to notice. There really was no doubt in Goran's mind now. Get something between the thighs of a submissive like this, and he's yours.

"I didn't order this," Tyler said in a small voice.

"But you need it, I can tell. It's on the house. The service here is the best."

"Thanks," Tyler said, picking up the glass and taking a deep drink. "Yes, I did need that."

"There's as much of that as you want," Goran said. "And I give the best service. The very best." He had a hand on the suit coat sleeve of Tyler's forearm. Tyler looked up and saw the expression on Goran's face and then looked quickly away.

"I'm sorry. I should be going." Neither one of them believed that.

"Not until you're feeling better. And you must know what would make you feel better."

"I don't—"

"Tyler. Your name is Tyler, isn't it? I overheard. My name's Goran."

"You overheard?"

"Yes. A lot. I know what that jackass has been doing to you."

Tyler let out a little moan and took another big swig of wine. That was fine with Goran. Let him be tipsy.

"I don't want to talk—"

"Yes you do, Tyler. You want to scream to the treetops above us about it. The man has taken fucking advantage of you and has cast you aside." He hadn't used the word "fucking" by accident, and he saw how the use of the word jolted the young man. "What you need is to get right back on that wagon. Show him for the bastard he is. Show him with a younger, more fit man. Someone with a real cock."

No sign of shock. Goran was home free, and he knew it. And his young Tyler knew it. They were going to fuck.

"I don't know. I really should be . . ." But it just trailed right off and Tyler showed no signs of leaving. Goran's beefy thigh was now pushed far in between Tyler's legs. He was rubbing his knee against the young man's crotch.

"Here give me your hand, Tyler." Tyler looked at him blankly. "Give me your hand." The voice was commanding; just the tone the young man needed. Goran took the hand and laid it on his basket. "Is that bastard the man I am?"

Tyler gave an unintelligible squeak. But he didn't try to take his hand away. Goran wouldn't have let him if he had tried. They were over the hump now. Goran would give the direction and Tyler would respond as directed.

"I don't want to rush you," Goran said, clearly wanting to do just that—and knowing his submissive males well enough to know what worked. "But I want to fuck you and show you that that old bastard isn't worth another thought."

Tyler just looked at him dumbly. But he wasn't trying to get away.

Goran stood up. "Come back to the back. You don't want to leave looking like that. I'm going to fuck you and then let's get you cleaned up."

Tyler stood and put his hand in Goran's and let Goran lead him back into the restaurant building; through the empty dining rooms, already set up for the dinner service; down the hall past the guest bathrooms; and into the back of the restaurant and into a bathroom used by the service staff. He shot home the lock on the door and crowded Tyler into the wash basin, pushing his pelvis into Tyler's and grinding his package against Tyler's crotch while he took possession of Tyler's lips with his. Tyler's mouth opened right up and Goran scooped out and sucked suggestively on his tongue. Tyler was making little mewing sounds.

As Goran surmised would be the case, from the moment that he had Tyler pinned to the edge of the double-sinked vanity with his pelvis thrust between Tyler's thighs, Tyler was completely docile and submissive. Goran came out of the kiss, stripped off his own shirt, and placed Tyler's hands on his biceps and then on his pecs.

"I'll bet your senator isn't built like this," Goran said. "Go ahead and feel what a real man feels like."

Tyler moved his hands around on the bulges of the muscles as instructed. He was panting softly.

Goran dropped his pants and briefs and stepped out of them. He took one of Tyler's hands—with Tyler just giving it up docilely and giving Goran a glazed look—and placed it on his genitals.

"Does your senator come equipped like this?" Goran asked.

"No," Tyler answered in a small voice.

"I want to fuck you. I think it's what you need too. Do you want all of this inside you?"

"Yes, please," Tyler answered, and he started to paw tentatively at the buttons on his shirt as if he wanted to help get on with it but wasn't sure how. While pressing into his crotch with a now-free cock and rubbing up and down with it, Goran brushed Tyler's hands away and started pulling off the young man's suit coat and then his shirt and trousers, folding them pretty neatly and stacking them on top of the hand towel hamper next to the basin.

Tyler was breathing heavily and was beginning to move his crotch against Goran's. His hands had reached out and were gripping Goran's side half way between his waist and his pecs. "Hurry, please," Tyler murmured.

"Want it now, don't you?" Goran said, with a laugh. "We can make you forget all about that bastard. We're going to have a good time, you and me."

"Please. Please. Fuck me."

Goran lifted a now-naked Tyler and positioned him standing and hunched over the toilet while Goran felt around in his pants pocket for his ever-ready condom packets. Those found, he spread Tyler's butt cheeks with his hands and buried his face in the crack. Tyler began to moan and mutter a progression of "fuck me's" in a low voice. Goran reached through Tyler's legs and milked his cock.

When Goran had moved him back to the basin and perched his butt at the edge and Tyler had sunk his shoulder's back into the mirror over the basin, Goran slowly entered Tyler's channel while Tyler huffed and puffed and moaned and groaned. "Oh, shit, oh, fuck. You're so big. Yes, yes, fuck me."

Tyler lifted his ankles to Goran's shoulders and grabbed the Serbian's heavily muscled upper arms while Goran grabbed Tyler at the waist and pulled his channel on and off his cock in rotation with holding him still and pounding his ass deep.

Tyler came first, in a stream up Goran's belly, and Goran filled the bulb of the condom soon thereafter.

"Again," Tyler begged.

And, as much as Goran wanted to fuck him again, Tyler was just a bit too submissive for him. And Goran wanted to do something else for him.

"I don't think that would be wise, as nice a piece as you are," Goran said. "I just wanted to fuck that bastard who's just ditched you out of you. I think we've managed that. Why don't you shower and clean up now—there's a shower stall right over there. Make yourself presentable again and then I'll come back for you in a few minutes. Another fortifying glass of wine and I think you'll be able to handle life from here. Don't think of that bastard. You are a great lay and highly desirable. Get back out there again. A better man than that one will come by fast enough."

This revealed another aspect of Goran. With him it was mostly the chase and the assertion of dominance. He wasn't one for entanglements. He was more of a notches-on-the-belt man. Tyler had, indeed, had a nice tight channel and was a pretty little thing to fuck. But Goran felt no need or great desire to do him more than once.

While he spoke, Goran was sponging himself off with a wet towel. Then he put his own clothes back on and returned to the terrace. With luck, he thought, just the man Tyler needed would have arrived for his regular Tuesday lunch. And when Goran got out to the terrace, he saw that the man, indeed, was there. He made a beeline for him.

Fifteen minutes later Goran was guiding Tyler through the bar area, stopping there to pour another glass of premium red, and taking Tyler out onto the terrace.

"Tyler," he said, "This fine-looking gentleman, who I can verify has a nice big cock and a superlative sex drive, is Keith Engle. I have told him about you and he's eager to meet you."

A smiling, very presentable man of forty-five or so, smiled happily at Tyler and eagerly invited him to sit down.

"In addition to loving to fuck young men like you, Tyler—and being very good at it," Goran said, "Mr. Engle here works for the Washington Post. He says he'd very much like to talk to you about the extracurricular activities of one Senator Julian Jamison."