This is Part III of a "Beatitudes" Alternate Stream story.
The other sections in "Beatitudes".
Features Brian Kinney, Paulie.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Brian and Paulie. Hamburg, November 1960.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit.
Hamburg, November 1960:
Paul had made love to a number of women in his life. Well, not 'made love' exactly. Fucked, was more like it.
The first time was when he was 14. A girl was babysitting and she invited him to come over and keep her company. She was older and more experienced, but Paul soon got the hang of it. The most recent time was just the week before. She was one of the strippers at a nearby club who took a fancy to him and brought him to her dressing room. She was a hefty bird and not very attractive close up, but Paul had a go anyway. In both instances, things were over in a couple of minutes.
That's the way it usually was. A fumble on the sofa before the girl's mum walked in. Or a knee-trembler in the alley. Slam, bam. Not much to the whole thing. No wonder John called fucking 'The Old In-and-Out.'
And with John... Well, that wasn't anything at all. Wanking, except with another bloke. You pull me and I'll pull you. You don't even look each other in the eye. Like it never happened -- no matter how many times you do it.
But this was something else again.
The bed was like in a Hollywood film, with a big carved headboard and brocade curtains draped around it. The duvet was satin, with matching satin pillows, all in gold and blue. And there were fresh flowers in a vase next to the bed.
Brian pulled back the duvet and eased Paul onto the bed and back against the large pillows. His damp hair felt cool against the satin. Paul closed his eyes, expecting the man to plunge right ahead and get things over with. But that's not the way it happened at all.
Brian began kissing him. And not only on the mouth. That was strange enough -- being kissed on the mouth by another man. It felt harder than when a woman kissed him. Harder and more urgent. Paul hesitated when Brian's tongue snaked between his lips, but that tongue didn't take no for an answer. So Paul open his mouth and let it be explored. Let it be possessed. Until Brian owned it completely.
But Brian didn't stop there. He kissed the boy all over. Slowly. Deliberately. Kissed him in places Paul didn't expect to be kissed. His shoulders. The inside of his wrists. His armpits. And his nipples. Brian kissed and sucked and gently bit at his untouched buds and Paul made little gasping noises as they rose up into hard, tender points under Brian's manipulation. Paul knew that birds liked to have their tits played with, but he'd never thought about spending much time doing it. But the feeling of it! It made his toes curl. Made him stand up straight and hard. Each little bite was like an electric shock that went directly to his cock!
He had never thought much about what poofs did. He knew they sucked each other's cocks and that they put their cocks in each other's arses. But he had never thought about... about THIS! Making you lose your senses. Making you all limp and all hard at the same time. And the man hadn't even gotten to his dick yet!
And then... Brian got to Paul's dick. Played with it like a cat plays with a mouse. Teased it. Squeezed it. Made it throb and leap and take on a life of its own in Brian's expert hands and his even more expert mouth.
Paul tried to hold himself back. He didn't want to finish things so quickly, but he couldn't hold on any longer. Not with the way Brian was sucking his cock deeply into his mouth, working it with his lips and his tongue and his throat at the same time. And furtively slipping a damp finger into his arse and thrusting it.
That did it! The boy came with a rush, his hips bucking upwards. The spunk exploded out of him and it felt like a fucking rocket taking off.
"Oh, God!" Paul gasped. "Shit! I... I tried to stop, but... I couldn't!"
Brian smirked. "I didn't want you to hold it. I wanted you to come now. That way when you come again later you won't shoot as fast. That will be even better."
"Come again?" Paul blinked.
Now Brian laughed. "I can make you come all night -- IF I wanted to." The man stroked Paul's pale, finely-shaped cock. It was already beginning to recover. Paul could feel it starting to expand once again in Brian's hand. "When I was 18 I could come and come and come. My legs would give out before my dick would give up. And I can still out-fuck any guy on the fucking planet. But I'm more into quality these days, not quantity. Like you -- pure quality."
"Quality?" whispered Paul. "Me?"
Brian put his face close to Paul's. "Yes, you. I knew I had to have you the minute I saw you. You're the most beautiful boy I've seen in a long, long time. Except for Justin, of course. But he's beautiful in a completely different way. He's all golden sunshine and positive energy. He's one of those people who always knows precisely what he wants. But you're more like me -- dark and brooding and confused most of the time. It's almost like making love to a part of myself. A younger, more innocent version of me. I used to be beautiful, too, when I was a boy."
Paul stared at Brian. "I think you're beautiful. I never thought about a man being beautiful before. I never thought about a lot of things before." Paul gazed at Brian's hand, resting on his bare chest. It was strong-looking, with long fingers. "Your hands are beautiful. Not only how they look, but how they make me feel. How do you do that? Is this the way people are supposed to fuck?"
"It's the way they are supposed to make love," Brian answered. "But people rarely do. They don't take the time. They don't have the courage. They're afraid to open themselves up to another person. Afraid of what may happen if they allow themselves to feel this deeply. But I'm a poet. I'd be untrue to myself if I didn't fuck with the same passion I use to write a poem. And I'd be false to you if I gave you anything less than my best. That would be like plucking a beautiful flower and then trampling it on the ground. I believe that wasting beauty is the greatest sin. The ONLY sin."
"Kiss me again. Please?" Paul requested.
And Brian kissed the boy, giving him a taste of his own come on Brian's tongue. "That's YOU. That's your essence. I could drink that all night long. I could LIVE on something that sweet!"
Paul sat up. "Let me do YOU! I want to suck you now! I know I can take it all." Paul thought about the alley. About Brian's long, hard cock. About the feel of it in his mouth.
Brian smiled slowly. He knew the boy would be begging for everything. Paulie had a body created for sex and a genuine eagerness to learn and to please. And Brian loved playing teacher. "I think that can be arranged." Brian took his cock in his hand and handled it lightly. It was already semi-erect and waiting. "I want you to get this nice and hard. And nice and wet. I want you to get it ready to go inside of you. And then I'm going to fuck you with it until we break this ridiculously expensive bed. Are you up for it?"
Paul's eyes were large and shining. "I'm up for it."
Brian nodded. "Then let's see how you can suck a man's cock, boy. Right now!"
Paul stared at Brian's long prick and took a deep breath.
If he did this, it would really make him a cocksucker. The thing in the alley next to the club -- he could always say he was drunk and didn't remember doing it. That's what John always did. "Jesus, was I drunk!" he'd say after every time they woke up in bed together and they both knew that things had gone beyond just keeping out the cold.
But Paul was sober now. Dead sober. And he went to work on this beautiful cock.
Paul knew what made him feel good. He knew what Brian had done to him to make his toes curl up and make him shoot like he'd never shot before in his life. He'd had birds blow him before and it had felt good -- but not like this. Girls didn't like doing it for the most part. They scrunched up their noses and acted like even touching your prick was disgusting, let along sucking it. That they were doing you a big favor. He always came then a bird sucked him, but then Paul could come sometimes just by thinking about sexy things. When he was even younger he could come simply by thinking of a woman putting her mouth on his prick. Or anyone putting their mouth on him.
But Brian -- he treated Paul's cock like it was something special. Like it was the greatest thing in the world. Like it was beautiful. Like HE was beautiful. All of him. Even in his filthy leathers and tattered cowboy shirt. That his body was something beautiful. No one had ever told him that before. No one had ever paid such attention to him before. He wanted to thank Brian. Make him feel good. Make Brian know that Paul thought he was beautiful as well.
And Brian WAS beautiful. He was everything that Paul had always wanted to be. Tall and handsome and rich. And American. The Americans always had it all. Gear clothes. The best cars. The most beautiful birds. The coolest music. The real 'attitude.' And Brian had that attitude. Like he could do no wrong. Like he always knew what to say and what to do. Like he never felt mixed up or at a loss. And like people never treated him like he was soft in the head because he wasn't from the right class or didn't have the right accent or know what fucking fork to use.
Here was this guy who could walk into any room in this bleedin' city and have any bird he fancied. The most beautiful bird. The richest. The snobbiest. The sexiest.
Except -- he didn't want a bird. He wanted Paul. Thought Paul was more desirable, more beautiful. That knocked Paul out!
"That's great," Brian murmured. "That feels fantastic."
Brian's words of encouragement made Paul try even harder. He sucked a little faster and wrapped his hand around the thick base of the poet's long cock, jacking it.
"Hold it!" Brian said suddenly. Paul stopped and looked up. "I'm going to come and I didn't want to come in your mouth. I don't know if you're quite ready for that yet, kid."
"I... I don't know," Paul said truthfully.
"Hand me a tissue. Over there."
Paul pulled a couple of tissues out of a box on the bedstand and handed them to Brian. Brian jerked his own prick a couple of times and came heavily into the tissues. Paul's eyes widened at the amount of come that Brian had in him.
"I haven't shot since I was in the shower this morning," Brian laughed. "Christ! That was good!"
"How often do you... do it? I mean, every day?" asked Paul, curiously. Paul was always horny, but it wasn't always easy to get the privacy he needed to have a decent wank. He wasn't like fucking Pete, who pulled himself off loudly every night while lying in his cot in the kino. He didn't care who heard him! It was dead repulsive!
"A couple times a day at least," Brain admitted. "When I'm home I prefer a good fuck to jerking myself off. And Justin is always very willing to oblige. He loves a hard fuck as much as I do."
That wasn't the first time Brian had mentioned that name. "Who's this Justin, then? Is he your boyfriend?"
"Yup," said Brian, leaning back on the big satin pillows. "We've been together three years. Funny, but it seems longer than that. We've been through a lot of shit together. He's a painter."
"Like Stu," said Paul. "He paints, too. Or he wants to. He's really not much of a musician."
Brian smiled. "That's for sure. I saw him trying to hide his hands while you guys were on stage."
"Yeah, Stu's only in the band because he's John's mate." Paul shrugged. "He's all right, I guess."
"But YOU really can play. I can see that," said Brian.
"I try. We all try," Paul replied. "I just love music. I hear songs in my head all the time. I wrote a couple and John and I are trying to write some more."
"That's important," said Brian. "To have something original. Something that's YOURS and no one else's."
"But people want to hear the hits," Paul sighed. "They want to hear what they know. That's the problem."
"One day they'll come to hear YOUR songs. That's my prediction. Just like they come to hear my poems. You'll see."
Brian liked the earnest look on the boy's pretty face. He was so serious about his music. Just like Brian was serious about his poems when no one had really wanted to hear them. But that hadn't stopped him. Nothing stopped Brian if he wanted something badly enough.
"I hope so," said Paul.
Paul put his head on the pillow next to Brian. He felt comfortable there, next to this man. Funny how that was, when Brian was really a stranger. And yet Paul had let Brian do things to him that he'd never imagined having done to him. And he'd done things to this man that should make him feel ashamed. But Paul didn't feel ashamed at all. Brian put his arm around him and stroked his hair gently. It was still slightly damp from the shower.
"Would your boyfriend be angry?" asked Paul. "I mean if he knew that... that I was here with you?"
Brian snorted. He thought about Justin telling him to fuck a Valkyrie while he was in Germany. Telling him to have fun in Hamburg. "Not at all. Would YOUR boyfriend be angry?"
Paul blinked. "If you mean John, then yes. He'd go mental! If he was here and he saw me in bed. With a bloke!" Paul cringed. "But even so, he'll likely never speak to me again just for missing the rest of the gig."
"Oh, I think he will," said Brian. "He needs you. Your group needs you, Paulie. It might do them good to see just how much they need you. I heard you sing. Your Johnny has a good rock and roll voice, but you have the real pop voice in the outfit. You can sing rock and roll as well as he can. And you can do the slower stuff, too. But if you want to know my honest opinion -- you both sound the best with each other. Singing together. Even the three of you. With that other kid."
"You mean George?"
"Yes. When the three of you were doing the harmonies on that Buddy Holly song. That was good. Really good."
Paul looked at Brian's face to see if he really meant what he was saying. "But you only heard us do one set!"
"That's all I need to hear to know if something's good," Brian said. "One song. One poem. One painting. That's enough to know if there's true talent there. And you guys could be good -- IF you focus on what you do best. But that's only my uninformed opinion. But they do need YOU, Paulie. It might be a wake-up call to your 'mate' John to have him know just how much he needs you. Because he might think HE is the whole ball game, but he's NOT. He can't do it without you. Ever hear of 'synthesis'?"
Paul grinned. "What the fuck is that? Sounds like a disease!"
"It means the parts that make up the whole," Brian explained. "The parts might be okay individually, but it's when you put them together that the real magic happens. The way I put together a poem. The words and the single lines by themselves are meaningless. But if I put them together the right way -- then you have a real poem. That's what you and John are. And little George, too. The parts aren't bad. But when you put them together -- THAT is the synthesis. That is the magic. In the whole."
"That's fucking deep!" laughed Paul. "What about Pete? And Stu?"
"Stu is already almost out the door. You said it yourself. He's a painter. He's biding his time. And Pete." Brian frowned. "I don't know what it is, but he's the odd man out. He doesn't quite fit. I don't think he 'gets' what you guys are really about. Like he's not 'in' on the joke. He's THERE -- but he's not one of your 'mates.' Am I right?"
"Yeah. You're dead right," said Paul. "Me and him don't get on. And George isn't that keen on him, either. But drummers are hard to find."
"Don't sweat it. Things will work out," Brian reassured Paul.
Paul sighed and closed his eyes. "Can I have a ciggie? Before I fall asleep? One of the American ones?"
Brian raised his eyebrows. "A cigarette? But that's for when we're finished. You know -- you smoke AFTER sex."
"But... I thought. You came and... and, well...."
"Well, nothing," said Brian. "I needed to come once to take the edge off. So that I last longer when I fuck." Brian sat up and pulled Paul close to him. "Now it's time to get down to business. I told you we were going to make this bed shake, rattle, and roll. So are you ready to rock, Paulie?"
Paul grinned. "I'm ready. Ready to rock and roll!"
"I suppose you do this all the time," Paul said to Brian nervously. "I mean, with someone like me. Someone who doesn't really know what the fuck he's doing."
"You mean de-virginizing beautiful 18 year old boys? No, actually," Brian replied. "Only once before. But that time was very memorable. And this will be, too. In fact, it's a rare privilege."
Brian reached over to the bedstand and picked up a small jar of Vaseline. Paul followed Brian's movements with his eyes, knowing exactly what Brian was going to do with the contents of that little jar.
"Most of my sex partner are fairly experienced," Brian continued. "Some are extremely experienced. But very few are as experienced as I am. Not many guys are as experienced as I am."
"Just with men?" Paul asked. "Or do you ever sleep with women as well?"
"Oh, I've have plenty of women, especially when I was younger," said Brian. "And if a woman catches my interest I sleep with her -- if she's into it. Sometimes I'll do a man and a woman together. In Paris that's a popular combination."
"That 'menage' thingamy?" said Paul. "Like in those French films?" Paul and John had gone to a Brigitte Bardot picture just before they left for Hamburg and John hadn't been able to stop talking about the blonde actress and the sex scene between her and a man and another woman.
"Ménage à trois," Brian corrected. "That can be hot. Very hot. But it's even better with three guys. Three hot guys." Brian smiled. He was picturing this boy wedged between Justin and himself in their big bed in the Paris flat. The possibilities were intoxicating. "I enjoy women, but I've always found men much more to my liking. When I walk into a room it's the men I notice. And I always have."
All the while he was talking, Brian was rubbing the boy's ass gently. Getting him used to being caressed there. Brian had meant it when he said that virgins were not his usual prey. Justin had been the other great exception to that rule.
But Brian had learned from fucking Justin the first time that you had to take it slowly with such an inexperienced boy. Brian wanted Paul to remember his first time with a guy as something special and not with disgust. Brian remembered his own first time and shivered. No, THAT memory wasn't one to press in his scrapbook. That's one reason Brian had taken a lot of care with Justin his first time -- to make up for the painful experience Brian had endured in Juvenile Hall at the age of 13. Brian made certain that Justin loved fucking from the start -- and he had loved it. Justin was still the best fuck Brian had ever had. Justin had learned every one of Brian's techniques and even improved on some of them, Brian thought generously.
This boy had some experience with females, but it mainly seemed to be of the 'three strokes and you're out' variety. He'd been swooning throughout the foreplay. That was a good sign. His body and mind were primed for sex. And he seemed eager to move to the next level. Yes, young Paulie WAS a natural.
Brian coated his fingers liberally with the Vaseline. It wasn't the best lubricant available, but it was all Brian had so it would have to do. In the past he'd used everything from cream rinse to hand lotion to Crisco and still gotten the job done. The Vaseline wasn't too bad. A little greasy, but that might actually help things along.
Paul flinched when Brian stuck his fingers up his arse. "That... feels strange."
"Does it hurt?" asked Brian. "Because it WILL hurt... a little. But if you relax, that will make it easier." Christ, the boy was tight! Very, very tight.
"I guess I'm frightened," Paul admitted. And then Brian felt his hole tighten even more around Brian's fingers. "That it'll hurt too much."
"Think about how good it felt in the shower when I did this," Brian coaxed. "How you were warm and your body felt like it was melting. How good it felt for me to stroke you there." Brian wiggled his fingers slightly. Moved them in and out slowly. "From the inside. Remember how nice that was?"
"Um," Paul breathed. It DID feel nice. He tried to relax himself. Brian's invading fingers were gentle, but they felt so long. Paul tried not to think about the length of the man's prick. How the hell was THAT going to fit up there without tearing him apart? Paul shuddered and clenched down again.
"No!" urged Brian. "Don't tense up now." Brian pulled his fingers out the Paul breathed a sigh of relief. The kid was scared. He was losing him. Distraction -- that's what he needed. "I want you to put your legs up here -- on my shoulders."
Paul frowned. "On your shoulders? Why?"
"You'll see," said Brian. "I know it sounds like a funny position, but you'll see. This is the easiest way." He lifted the boy's long skinny legs up and rested them on his shoulders. "This way I can see your beautiful face. I can kiss you all over. I can do THIS."
Brian leaned down the covered the boy's curved, pink lips with his own. Kissed him. Pressed his tongue deep into Paul's tender mouth. And the boy responded. He liked kissing. He liked being stroked and fondled. So Brian kissed and stroked and fondled him. Most guys just wanted to be fucked as hard as possible for as long as possible. But this kid wanted to be romanced. He wanted to be made love to. And Brian could do that. It was his pleasure to do that.
While the boy was sighing and sucking on Brian's tongue, Brian slipped his hand down and made certain that his cock was well greased up with the Vaseline. He teased the boy's little hole with his fingers. He felt it open up slightly as Paul relaxed and he slid two fingers inside. The boy sighed.
"See how good that feels? So good," Brian whispered as he nuzzled the boy's face, his neck, his ear. Paul nodded and kissed the side of Brian's face. Wrapped his arms around the poet's neck and clung to him.
Brian nudged the tip of his slick cock against the boy's hole, slipping his fingers out to make room for it. Well, thought Brian, it's now or never. And he pressed forward, shoving his long cock in as far as he was able on the first thrust.
Paul gasped, but Brian filled his open mouth with his tongue. Brian searched around the boy's mouth while he kept his cock still for the moment, letting Paul get used to the feel of it, the size of it, in his ass.
Brian paused for a moment. Usually by this point he was totally focused on fucking the trick. If the guy cried out or jumped, then Brian just dug in harder. But he wanted to look at the boy's face. Wanted to see the moment when his expression changed from one of pain and fear to one of ecstasy and lust.
Paul's eyes were wide open. His eyes were huge, the thick black lashes fluttering. His eyes tilted downward slightly on the outside edges, giving his face a permanently melancholy cast. Sad, but beautiful.
"You'll never forget this," Brian whispered. "You'll never forget me. No matter what female you're fucking. No matter what guy is sucking you off or probing your sweet ass. Not even your hard-faced, arrogant 'mate' -- that is if he ever gets around to doing what he's been wanting to do since the first moment he saw you. But I was here first. And you'll always be thinking of ME. Every single time from now on. Won't you, Paulie? Won't you?"
"Yes," the boy nodded. "Do it. Now."
And Brian plunged his long cock in to the hilt, his balls slapping against the boy's pale bottom. He fucked him slowly at first, moving in and then pulling out almost all the way before sliding back inside again. It was easier with each stroke. And Paulie's cries of pain turned quickly to moans of pleasure.
Brian smiled as he watched the boy's face. He couldn't stop kissing it. He wanted to capture his bliss. He wanted to make Paul's sighs into a poem. He wanted this fuck to be a poem.
Brian felt the familiar tingle in his balls and he knew that he was about to come. That was sooner than he had expected. He was more excited by fucking this boy than he had thought he would be. And he was very excited. Paul was now thrusting his ass up to meet every one of Brian's strokes. His tight hole was gripped around Brian's cock and it felt like the satin pillows and sheets of the bed, smooth and silky and luxurious.
He took hold of the boy's prick and began jacking it. "I'm going to come up your ass, Paulie, and I want you to come, too. At the same time. Are you ready? Are you?"
"I'm ready!" the boy panted. He was still trying to catch his breath. "Yes!"
Brian pulled on the boy's prick while he gave one more fierce thrust. Brian shot forcefully, his long cock shuddering, high up inside the boy. And Paul's prick exploded, trapped between their two bodies. It twitched, as if looking for escape. Brian felt the warmth of the boy's come spreading against his chest, welding the two of them together.
Brian collapsed on top of Paul, kissing his face. He could feel a hint of the boy's stubble against his own rough cheek. Their faces rubbed together like sand paper. It felt good. So good.
"I love you," the boy whispered, almost too quietly for Brian to hear.
"I love you, too," Brian sighed back, closing his eyes in contentment.
Then he stopped. His eyes jerked opened. Shit, he thought. Where did THAT come from?
Continue on to "Hamburg -- Part IV".
©Gaedhal, August 2004.
Posted August 17, 2003.