Strongman by Denise Rossetti Page A

whispered Fort, his lips gone numb. “Now!”
    Beneath his fingers, Griff’s shaft hardened impossibly. The younger man made the most extraordinary noise, half scream, half groan, but he kept his eyes on Fort’s, fighting the natural desire to slam them shut in the extremity of his passion. His cock rippled and scalding fluid spurted over Fort’s hand, dripped onto Griff’s stomach.
    The smells, the sounds, the sight of Griff’s agonized face, the feel of the tumbler’s frantic fingers clutching his cock, sent the seed boiling out of Fort’s balls to surge up his shaft in an excruciating flood, so thick and hot his vision grayed out. With a strangled grunt, he lurched forward, collapsing over Griff, their bellies sealed together with warm, sticky juices.
    A few minutes or a lifetime later, he felt Griff’s fingers moving in his hair. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so sated, so drained. So stunned.
    “Next time.” The tumbler’s breath gusted warm against the top of his head. Griff rose up on one elbow, his lower lip trembling as he gasped for breath. “Next time, you come down my throat, in my ass. Twister, on my face! Wherever you want.”
    Fort’s tired brain reeled with lascivious visions. His hands tormenting the other man’s shaft, orchestrating his pleasure, controlling, dominating. Lufra’s tits, Griff with 49

    Denise Rossetti
    his wrists bound, completely helpless, unable to stop him from doing as he willed.
    Griff, groaning, begging for release, promising anything, anything .
    His. All his to fuck, to master.
    His mind seized up with the delicious force of it. And as if it had been waiting for the hiatus in his thoughts, memory swept over him like an ice storm from the frozen depths of hell, all slashing edges and freezing breath.
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    Strongman

Chapter Seven
    Herewith is the judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of the Straight Church . You shall be taken from this place and hung by the neck until you are dead . Sodomy is abhorrent in the eyes of Ruler God , an evil Crookedness that pollutes the Straight Way and a grievous offense to your Brethren . Before execution , you shall be whipped upon the obscene parts so that others shall witness your agony and know —
    Guards , he ’ s fainting ! Quick !
    Transcript from the archives of the Ecclesiastical Court of the Straight Church , Prelate -
    Judge Bishop Honor Denison presiding . 9995 ATF (After the Firsters) Sobriety McLaren had wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, pushed his chair back and risen, filling the small kitchen with his presence. “We’d better get going.” He’d pinned Fort, stacking firewood by the door, with the flick of a bloodshot glance. “Come, boy.”
    He could still recall his mother’s instinctive motion of protest, quickly controlled, her chapped fingers twisting in her apron. “The hanging?” she’d murmured. “But he’s just a boy…” He’d been nine, ten at the most. The Straight Church didn’t celebrate natal days, so he couldn’t be sure.
    “Don’t be foolish, woman,” said Sobriety. “No son of mine shall remain in ignorance of the traps of the Crooked.”
    His mother had closed her mouth and turned away.
    And so they’d stood in the first row of the all-male crowd, his father’s fingers digging into Fort’s skinny shoulders. He’d been bored by the Prelate-Judge’s rambling speech, but impressed by his magnificent cowled robe with the four parallel lines running up the front. Nonetheless, something about the press of bodies, the smell of sweat and fear and sick excitement, made his stomach heave and pitch with formless anxiety.
    Even now, he could hardly bear to think of it, the two men trussed naked to the whipping bar, the cane falling with a meaty swish on their tender genitals, again and again, until the parts that made them men were a bloody ruin and they had passed beyond screaming into unconsciousness.
    The hanging had come as a mercy.
    Halfway home, he’d stumbled to the