Best Gay Erotica 2008 by Richard Labonté

Author:Richard Labonté
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2010-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

MINIMUM DAMAGE, MINIMUM PAIN

Jason Shults

One day Jimmy Dragon went crazy. He showed up at my apartment with a black eye and a loose front tooth, and when he stripped down I saw it wasn’t only his face that had been hurt. He had hand-sized welts on his arms, chest and belly, and what looked like boot prints on his legs. I knew enough not to ask what had happened. When he fucked me that day, he told me to grab his ass, grab it hard and pull him in as far as he would go, leave marks on him if I wanted, scratches down his back.

“Hit me, goddammit,” he said, his breath hot in my ear, his hands pulling my hands up to his chest. I tried to pull away, but didn’t try very hard, even though I could have thrown him off me if I’d wanted to. My knuckles made weak slapping sounds against his skin.

“Hit me,” he said, growling the words out. “Hit me.”

I was on my back, my legs over his shoulders. Sweat was sprinkling down on me, dripping off the tip of Jimmy’s nose, off his chin, falling to my lips, where I licked some of it up. Jimmy’s humping made the rest of the sweat roll down the sides of my neck, tickling into my ears. Both of us were breathing heavy, gulping the apartment’s stale air. Jimmy rose up on his haunches, shook his crew cut so that more droplets of sweat rained down on me. He let go of my wrists.

He grunted and said three or four words, what sounded like something-something-blood, and I was thinking, Oh shit. But I couldn’t be sure if he was really saying what I thought he was saying.

Suddenly he stopped humping and, like a little monkey, flipped himself around so his ass was in my face. He grinned back at me with bared teeth. “You can’t hit me, then at least get your fist in there. Right? You can do that, can’t ya?”

I could. I could do anything for him except hurt him. I’ve always had a thing for him, always figured I’d do anything he asked. Something about his size, I think, not dick size because he’s only pinky-finger big, but his body, I mean, him being so little you could carry him around in a backpack or a suitcase if you wanted. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea. Back in high school he was just Jimmy Delano, one of those quiet kids sitting by himself in the back of the class, or in the corner of the cafeteria, not enough of a pain in the ass to make himself known, or to call down some bully’s attention, just the quiet sort, reading Star Trek anthologies or the latest Frank Herbert, going unnoticed through his high school years. Maybe I was reading things into him that weren’t there, but I always suspected there was more to the little guy than met the eye.

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