The story is an unlikely ROMANCE between scarred bisexual bodyguard ex-marine ex-cage fighter, and a beautiful young gay who is a fucktoy for a twisted mobster who is forcing him to play dead during sex.
There are elements of dub con, but not between MCs. There is no violence between MC. The story includes gay anal sex scenes.
This is hurt->comfort type of a story.
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I met Ilya on my first day at work.
Desperate to find a well-paying job, I accepted a shady offer to work as the bodyguard of an enigmatic businessman, Fiodor Biane, and was starting to regret that decision mere minutes after I arrived at the mobster's mansion. Yep, I called him a mobster right away, at least in my mind. He looked like a mobster, smelled like a mobster, and had written mobster all over him.
I started at exactly 8 p.m. `
My job was simple, I suppose. I was there to make sure everything "is okay", if you know what I mean. Inside the mansion was a crowd of shady figures that looked like weird businessmen, politicians, high officials, and other important guests that all seemed to have some connection to not-so-legal businesses. Most expensive drugs were readily available. Beautiful girls, models and escorts danced at the center of the large hall, trying to tempt the shady men with their sexy half-naked bodies, and obviously silicon body parts.
The host, my new "boss" Fiodor, filled me in on what to expect the day before, so I came mentally prepared. The loud music, the booze, the drugs and the suspicious people were all nothing new to me. I was at rock bottom and needed some easy cash. I hoped it wouldn't be that bad, but I really wished I could live a normal life, somewhere far away from these dirty dealings.
Once I entered the mansion, most of the guests were already inside, and loud music was playing. I said hello to the mansion's 'majordomo' Igor, and he took me to the main chamber, where all of the "fun" was.
I nodded at Fiodor, who spotted me from the opposite end of the room, but there was no need for us to talk, so I just focused on my duties. There was nothing special to attract my attention, aside from two men snorting cocaine off the glass table in the corner.
I sighed, but what could I possibly do? I was expecting that.
My eyes surveyed the room dispassionately, without lingering on anybody in particular, pausing on each person for only a few seconds, before moving on to the next.
Suddenly, I noticed a lone figure emerging from the back door. It was a young man, or rather a boy, not more than 19 years old; his moves were hesitant, almost shy. He came closer to Fiodor, and my eyes narrowed in curiosity. The mobster put an arm around his waist and kissed him quite passionately on the lips.
I raised my eyebrows a bit. As I heard, being openly homosexual was not a popular way of live for a mafioso. But Fiodor had not obvious connections to mafia, it was more subtle, secretive, although present, so maybe he could get away with it?
I turned my eyes to two women quarreling in the other corner of the room, but a minute later I dragged my eyes back to the boy. Fiodor was having a conversation with some fat local politician, and the boy just stood by the mobster's side, his head low, his face indifferent.
He was about 5'9", lean, lanky, built like a ballet dancer. What was so interesting about him was his long, light golden hair, a silky wave flowing down his back. It looked strangely angelic. I came a bit closer to have a better look at his face.
His features were quite exotic, typical of some eastern Slavic people, with high cheekbones, slightly slanting eyes, a narrow jaw, and a small chin. He was not classically handsome by Western standards, but he definitely had some intriguing features that set him apart. Was he pretty, or just original? I couldn't tell, though my eyes kept returning obsessively to check out his slim frame.
As I was somewhat inattentively circling the room, pretending to be interested in what was going on, I got even closer, within a couple of feet of the boy. Suddenly, he raised his eyes and fixed his gaze on me. He had very sad, distressed, but beautiful blue-green eyes.
I was stricken by a sudden wave of stress and an unpleasant feeling started building in my stomach. Why was this boy so miserable? Was he here of his own free will? Or was he kidnapped from some Eastern European country? I heard that was sometimes the case with beautiful Russian and Ukrainian girls. Was his case similar?
For the rest of the evening, I watched him interacting with Fiodor. The mobster took him on his lap and kept him there, even during conversations with other guests. He was constantly touching the boy's back, sometimes even kissing the boy's neck. It was so disturbing, I could not tear my gaze away from them.
I caught the boy glancing at me a couple of times. Sometimes I could even see him eyeing me in the mirrors that covered the room's walls.
Around 2 a.m. Fiodor came to me and said: "I'm going to bed now. Please stay as long as the guests are here, after that, you can either go home or, if you prefer, go to sleep in one of the first floor rooms in the eastern wing of the mansion. My other bodyguards sleep there during the week."
I nodded. The boy was still close to him, his eyes glazed over, unfocused, almost unseeing. He was definitely on something. Had Fiodor drugged him?
As they walked out of the room, I stayed, deep in thought.
Why did I ever agree to take this fucking job in the first place?
I hated my whole miserable life.
I grew up in a trailer park. Yep, one of those common, tragic stories. My father was a drunk and my mother did time for selling drugs -- she was behind bars more often than she was home with us. At 18, I joined the Marine Corps. After four years, I left and became an underground MMA fighter. There were no rules and lots of illegal bets, but the money was good. Some of the fighters never got out; I was the lucky one. I accumulated some savings and at 24, I enrolled in college. Better late than never, so they say.
My life hasn't been easy. The decision to leave MMA fighting was even more difficult. I felt miserable and depressed. Something was missing in my life, and I didn't know what it was.
I cut almost all ties with my old friends, and tried to chart a new path. It was hard as hell, and one reason for that was the way I looked.
The past had taken its toll on me.
My massive gladiator-like body was covered in scars and tattoos, and I stood at 6'7". I lived up to my nickname as "The Beast". That's why I just could not blend well into normal society. My too-many-times destroyed brow ridges were scarred to the point that it gave me a bit of a neanderthal-ish look. Half of my earlobe in one ear was missing after being bitten off (luckily I had almost no hearing loss). I also had a tattoo of a thorny ivy on my face, its black and red spikes spiraling down my temples and neck. It was quite visible from afar, so it added to the disturbing effect I gave off to people.
At college, I was an outcast. The other kids looked at me as the monster, the creep, and the freak. I've spent my whole life lonely as fuck, meeting people only for hookups, and passing time in the gym, working out as hard as I could, sometimes 4-5 hours daily, trying to forget about my fucked up past.
I was hooking up with both men and women; I was bisexual and didn't really care which hole I fucked. It was always anonymous; sometimes I didn't even talk to them -- that was actually the best option for me. My pockets were always full of condoms and lube. I accepted most invitations I got on Tinder and Grindr. Easy and simple. I had pics of my dick always ready to send. I really didn't have to do much talking beyond that. Having a 10-inch dick, almost as thick as a beer can, did the talking for me.
By 4 a.m. all of the guests were gone. Theoretically, I could return to the dorm, but I wasn't in the mood. I was agitated and annoyed, so I strolled through the big garden around the mansion, trying to ease my mind. I felt trapped being around this sort of people. I wanted so badly to escape. Suddenly, I was startled by a quiet cry coming from one of the rooms on the first floor. It got my attention. I crept quietly along the wall, trying to be careful, and not to make any noise.
I spotted a faint blue light coming from the room with a balcony window open.
It was partially covered with bushes and climber plants, so I could easily sneak up there without being noticed.
The room was mostly dark with only the blue glow of a bedside lamp to allow me to see inside.
I froze. It was Fiodor and the boy I'd seen during the party.
Fiodor was fucking him into the mattress, the boy was spread wide on the edge of the bed. Fiodor was kneeling on the carpet and furiously thrusting between the boy's slender legs. The long, silk hair seemed almost silver in the dim blue light, and his pale face looked to the side, perfectly in line with my... eyes.
