Changeling Pt.1 - Teil 6

They left the "Philtre" in silence, his captor pressed against his back, mimicking a loving embrace while the gun stayed where it was with iron constancy. Kelaste was led on with continuous firmness. getting driections through steady pulls and shoves that went smoothly with their pace. It was a strange, nearly intimate feeling of security to be handled that way, and it left him panting with anxious nervousness and a faint prickle of lust. "Angerhammer" had stopped shrieking, so the room was more quiet than before, but people still were dancing in drunk stupor, shaking their bodies to the sound of playback music, making it hard to reach the exit straight away.
Time seemed to thin, then stop, when Mohawk pushed him out onto the streets, shadowing his movements with the slickness of a snake.
"Where's your car?" he whispered, his breath touching Kelaste's earlobe when he wound his body around him, playing the one-night-lover for nosy bystanders, and only the gun pressed against his back ruined Kelastes short daydream about getting it up the ass there and then.
Kelaste caught his breath with a low hiss, trying to make it sound nervous, and starting to fail, when he felt Mohawks crotch pressed against his arse. He felt a definite stiffness that shouldn't have been there, rubbing against hin with thoughtless intensity. Then Mohawk bit his earlobe, tugged on it sharply, and reminded him that a question had been asked, but not answered.
Kelaste shivered, gasping for air through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to rub against the hot hardness pressed against his arse with silent fury, then pointed down the road at the sign of a video surveillanced parking lot only a few buildings down the road.
"Parked there" he panted, trying to stand very still and ignore the bulge in his own pants. Behind him he heard Mohawk swear silently, then a firm tug set them in motion again.
"If you think you can be clever there, I'll shoot you. I will put up the gun now, but there are other ways to kill you. One would be to put my switchblade against your kidney, like this..." Kelaste felt the gun move away, then being replaced with another metal object, the hilt of a switchblade knife he guessed, "... and just pull the switch twice. In, out, dead, noone will see why you toppled over, they'll think I just helped your drunk ass home and had to carry you. Getting my point?"
Kelaste nodded hastily, trying to pull his jacket around himself more firmly to hide his erection, and the cold metal hilt disappeared from his back, as they entered the parking lot. A warm, muscled arm wound around his waistline, pulling him close to an equally warm body, and for the few seconds it took them to aproach Kelaste's Lotus Europa he could pretend they really were a couple, walking home from a night out. The feeling of being pressed against another man's hip bathing in his scrent and bodyheat made Kelaste's head spin with lust, and at one point he could have sworn that Mohawk had peeked down at his crotch after Kelaste had made another small, humming sound of indulgence.
Then they reached the sports car, and Mohawk whistled in appreciation, as he examined the unique painting job. The Lotus had a magnetic doublecolored 3D-paint, looking innocently with its pearl silver color when looked at from the front, getting reddish-coppered if you moved to the back.
"Damn it scrap, now I DO believe the threethousand dollars.." Mohawk rasped, then his hand grabbed Kelaste's neck, spun him around, and shoved him against the side of the car. Just a glimpse later Mohawk pressed his whole bodyline against him, moving a leg between his knees to pin his abdomen, only stopping for the lengh of a heartbeat when he felt the hardness between Kelaste's legs. Then his other arm entwined around his torso, and Kelaste could feel hot, soft lips against his neck as Mohawk bent down his head, and mimicked a kiss onto his neck, while whispering "Eww, scrap.. are you hot for me or do you hide a gun down there?"
Any other time Kelaste would have laughed at such a stupid joke, but somehow he knew that something would follow that statement.. and he was proven right.
As his neck was released, strong, manicured fingers groped his hard, pulsing cock right through his tight clad trousers, stroking him slowly and with perfectly measured pressure. His body shivered excitedly, then a slow, huffed moan escaped his full lips as he leaned more heavily against his car, closing his eyes to feast on the knowing touch. Some of the tension seeped away silently, and just for a few seconds Kelaste was able to pretend that none of the things before this moment had happened. He would be able to touch him. He HAD to touch him.
The hand disappeared from his crotch, leaving him with a distinct feeling of loneliness.
"Get going, scrap. We've got things to do." Mohawk purred, and gave him a good shove. Then he climbed into the Lotus.