Wrong Side of the Bridge

Damien

I was already in love with Elijah by the time I saved him from a rapist thug, but I hadn't really admitted it to myself.

I first noticed him when I was manning a merchandise stall at No Way Out -- the big venue hired for hardcore punk gigs where both straight-edgers and skins can come, kids from either side of the bridge and the two different scenes.

I saw this really cute straight-edger hanging around in the crowd, talking to some guys I know. He was average height and slim -- skater slim rather than vegan thin. He was in shorts so I could see the nice shape of his calves, but his top was oversize and robbed me of any view of his torso. He had nut brown skin and the vivid black drugfree Xs on the back of each hand.

I've always wanted to hook up with a straight-edge guy. It's like fucking a Christian, so hot because you know they want you so bad they'd give up their morals to have you. But most straight-edge guys are gross -- the drug free scene goes hand in hand with veganism and I'm not interested in skeletons. It's no fun ramming your hips into a bony ass.

But this guy was a real babe, and he also seemed shy and nervous -- his motions were jerky and he kept tucking his wavy hair behind his ears, tugging at the big tunnels he wore through his ear lobes. He'd look down when he was talking, and peek upward like he was scared of making eye contact but wanted to check he wasn't being laughed at.

I love shy guys. I love bossing them around and seeing shock and worship on their faces. The last couple guys I've been with have been shy, uni kids I pick up through my job as a mechanic. I love that moment when you break through their shell and find out just how slutty they secretly are.

The guys he was talking to were bogans, rough as they come. I knew them as acquaintances but they were both losers and I had no interest in being friends with them. What the hell did they have to say to a cute straight-edger?

I leaned over to the punk chick watching over the merch table next to mine. "Who's that straight-edge kid talking to Luke and Asha?"

"I don't know, Damien -- why don't you go ask?" She winked at me as she talked. All the girls in the scene want to be friends with me because it's so cool to have a gay friend, prove you're not a homophobe.

I slouched back in my chair and pulled my hood down over my forehead. Normally I would just go up to that guy, start charming the pants off him right up front. But I got in a fight with a skinhead this week -- a different skinhead, one of those racist Aryan pricks -- and it left me looking a bit shit.

I waited until Luke drifted over to the merch table and was flicking through some EP's.

"Hey Luke, who was that guy you were talking to before? Little straight-edge kid?"

Luke's face lit up in admiration and I felt myself getting angry at him for no reason. "That's Elijah Court, new tattooist at Defiant. He's a genius. Did my back piece."

I muttered something in reply and looked past him at sexy Elijah, now laughing with a fat bearded guy and a group of other straight-edgers. I wondered how much persuading it would take for him to take my cock.

I started hearing more often about the new tattooist at Defiant. I'd look in at Elijah, once I even went in to watch him tattoo a puma on my mate Karl. He got a real intense look on his face when he tattooed, it was hot to watch. He was good at it too. I found myself getting more and more interested in this shy little guy.

I usually didn't go to big gigs that often. No way Out sounds like a good idea -- combine the two scenes to get bigger crowds, more money, that community harmony bullshit, a wider range of guys to check out. But it works out kinda shit -- everyone's so ready to start a fight. If you throw a punch and hit someone from the other side of the bridge you'll get lynched. And what's the point of going to a hardcore gig if you can't just throw a couple punches?

But I wanted to see sexy Elijah. So I was going to more combined gigs, even if my guys didn't come with me and it meant hanging out with half strangers. I was getting obsessed with Elijah, maybe because I hadn't gotten laid in so long but also because all the guys were going on and on about what a genius he was. It was like everyone was in love with the guy but he was still this completely shy loner.

If I had guys lining up to talk to me I sure as hell wouldn't still be as shy as him. Girls giggled over him too, for that matter, but I was pretty sure he was into guys -- I'd seen him sizing up a guy's crotch every now and then when he though no-one was looking. It made me ache to have him sneak a look at me that same way, to stare at me with that same needy lonely expression.

He was at Now Way Out one Friday night. I was standing outside talking to some of the guys and having a beer before heading in and I suddenly felt this tingling in my spine. I turned around and there was Elijah, walking along looking down at his feet with his baggy tee being whipped around in the wind and his basketball shorts swirling around his knees.

His wavy shoulder-length hair was tucked behind his ears, making his stretched lobes look huge -- the tunnels stuck out from the side of his head like cup handles. He was hunched over as he walked, trying to protect himself from the wind. As he drew up closer to us one of the guys I was talking to turned and saw him and called out.

"Hey," Elijah said, coming to a jerky stop and glancing around dazedly. His eyes didn't even seem to take me in. Fuck, and I was wearing my best tight black leather jacket and the bleached jeans which cupped my package and made it stand out like a tasty sausage ready to be eaten. Straight guys stole looks when I these wore pants and this shy little guy glanced past me.

Kyle was engaging him in conversation -- talking at him, really; Elijah was just standing there nodding. From a few paces away I could see the goosebumps on Elijah's defined forearms. I wondered if his nipples were hard under that loose tee, whether they were sharpened into little peaks that would be sensitive to the touch. The thought made my cock jerk and I nearly moaned out loud. I openly rearranged my junk, looking straight at Elijah and hoping he'd notice the movement. No luck. He just made his awkward goodbyes and wandered off inside.

I kept an eye on little Elijah all night, watching him standing around in the crowd, joining in on conversations but never starting any. It was a pity he was drug-free, he might be a lot less shy if he just had a beer to nurse all night.

During the third band I lost track of him, the crowd were really heating up and starting to push in around the stage. I was up at the front pumping my fist along when I suddenly saw Elijah push his way into the fight pit, spinning those toned arms around. He was so much smaller than the punks in the pit and of course he got knocked straight over. No-one seemed to notice. He was going to get trampled. I quickly grabbed him and dragged him away from the fight pit.

I only meant to help. But once I had my hands on him I wanted more. Elijah's warm slim body felt so good in my arms and I realised he was totally at my mercy. I let my left hand slip under his baggy tee and feel his skin. His belly was flat, like I knew it would be. His ass pressed against me, round and inviting. My dick swelled in my jeans.

I let my fingers slip under the waistband of his loose shorts. No boxer line. It was fashionable to wear your boxers higher than your pants but either Elijah wasn't into that or he wasn't wearing underwear. My cock jerked again at the thought. Oh, fuck yeah.

"You okay there little guy?" I whispered into his ear but it came out more guttural than I'd meant. The flesh of his big stretched lobes rubbed against my lip and it was all I could do to not lick him right here in public. It felt like he was trembling slightly, like he was scared. Such a turn-on.

Under his shorts his skin was moist with the sweat from dancing. I followed the long fine hairs of his snail trail to the waistband of his underwear - damn -- and stuck a couple fingers under.

Elijah twisted in my grip and looked up at me. I met his eyes. I wanted to just smoulder at him and melt him with my sexiest grin. But the look of shock and fear and urgent desire in his eyes sent a jolt through me. My smile faltered and I found myself just staring into his face.

And that's when his friend came up and got all in my face, yelling at me enough that the band stopped playing. That's the problem with No Way Out -- everyone's always ready to start a fight and you just have to stand there and take it.

The only consolation was seeing Elijah tugging at the hem of his tee, obviously trying to hide an erection. That made me grin.

I went outside to grab a smoke. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I wanted to brood and think about that hot little ass Elijah had been rubbing into me. The sexy flatness of his belly. The weird way he'd looked at me like I was saving him from drowning. But, oh. That ass, that body.

I was on my second smoke, alone behind the building, when the backstage door burst open and Elijah himself walked past.

He headed to a beat up old Corolla and opened the driver's door then quickly climbed in the backseat. What the fuck? I looked around and we were alone, I thought about maybe following him in but he was already crawling back out. He was holding a pair of drumsticks.

I wasn't going to miss a chance to talk to him, maybe even hook up with him out here where we were alone. It wouldn't be the first time I'd made a guy suck me off out back of a gig. I'm sure Elijah would be interested, he'd loved my hands on him.

"Hey," I called back after he locked the car. "You play drums?"

"No, my friend Pete. My boyfriend." He was jittery as anything, staring at me then looking away quickly.

Boyfriend. Ugh. The one who was so quick to get up in my face?

"That fat hairy guy is your boyfriend?"

Shy little Elijah was so quick to defend him. "He's not fat," He shot back, glaring at me. I saw his eyes run down my body and I subtly shifted my legs so my package would be more noticeable.

Was he only into bears? I wouldn't stand a chance. But no boy had said no to me yet. I bet I could change his mind. Fuck him so good he'd forget that fat hairy ball of anger.

I introduced myself and held out my hand, and he stumbled the shake and messed up introducing himself and turned bright red. Fucking cute. On his skin the blush was a deep ruddy brown, it looked like warmth was just radiating off him.

I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. Which was weird, I'm not an affectionate guy -- you treat anyone too nice, they start getting attached and wanting to stay around. But I wanted to touch Elijah.

Probably just me needing to get laid.

He was talking again, looking down at his feet. He was quiet and awkward, fidgeting like he was nervous. Nervous to be around me? "I'm sorry my friend was acting like a jerk before, he was just worried you were hurting me."

I took a deep drag of my cigarette and held before letting it out. Might as well make a move now. I looked up at him and said quietly, "That's not what he was worried I was doing to you."

Elijah basically creamed his pants right there and then. He started coughing like he was stalling for time. Then he asked me what I meant, acting totally innocent. I grinned.

"Your friend was worried I was going to lay a hand on that virgin ass of yours. He's damn right to be worried, too."

It didn't get the reaction I wanted. Elijah looked like he was about to puke. Sure, it was strong, but most twinks love that. Plus I clearly meant it - I wanted this guy bad, and I wanted him to know it.

But he didn't melt, or drop to his knees, or look like I should walk forward and push him to his knees. He hunched himself right over like he was trying to hide in his oversize shirt, his eyes skitting around and looking at anything but my winning smile.

I looked straight in his face and grabbed my crotch, feeling my half-hard dick in my tight jeans and cupping it into a fistful of manhood for him to look at. His eyes dropped to my crotch and widened. For a few long seconds I thought I had him. But then he stuttered something about having to go, and rushed passed me. I called out his name instinctively but he was already gone.

Looked like he really was into his fat boyfriend. Fuck.

I live in a shitty flat outside above an old mall. The last two owners fell down the narrow stairs and died so someone decided it was 'cursed'. Good for me, I got it cheap. It's the wrong side of the bridge for my scene -- most of the ska and skinhead gigs are on the other side of the river, in a strip of dodgy pubs and sex stores the straight-edgers wouldn't dare walk past. But it's easy to catch a bus to work and it's a place of my own. I like it.

I spend most my free time hanging around outside anyway. Sometimes my mates will come round, or I'll just hang out alone and have a smoke. I people-watch a lot.

The Saturday after being rejected by Elijah I was alone. I thought about crossing the bridge and meeting up with my guys, but it had been a hard week at the garage and I kinda wanted to be alone. I took my transistor radio downstairs and stood around my doorstep, listening to some music and having a smoke, beer, and my own party for one.

About eleven at night I was feeling pretty buzzed and thinking about heading out after all. The mall I live by used to be real busy but they built better places closer to town and now this side of the city is kind of a wasteland, there's no bars and stuff here. So there weren't many people-watching opportunities and only the occasional drunk stumbling by.

I was shocked to see a familiar skinny figure walking down the middle of the poorly-lit street, head down and hands in pockets of his oversize shorts.

"Elijah!" I called out.

He looked up. I could see his face squeezing up as he squinted to see me in the dark. I took a deep drag on my cigarette so it burned bright and would cast shadows on my face. Can't make the job too easy for him.

"Why you walking alone? These streets aren't safe at night."

"You're alone," He called back. He was just standing there, in the middle of the street, squinting at me.

I grinned. Feisty little guy. "Let me walk you home," I called out, and I started walking towards him.

"No thanks."

I stopped. Was that fear in his voice?

I was close enough now I could clearly see Elijah, even in the dim light from the street lamps. He was in his usual oversize outfit, hiding the cute body I knew was underneath. There were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping much.

"You going home from a gig?" I was trying to be friendly. "It's a bit early to be heading home, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything. He was looking down at his beat up black Chuck Taylors, but he kept half lifting his head like he wanted to look at me.

I took a long drag of my cigarette and watched as the action drew his attention. I deliberately lowered the hand that held the cigarette and grabbed my crotch with it, readjusted my growing bulge. His eyes followed the action. But as I raised my hand to my lips again I noticed his eyes were following me, not looking at my crotch at all. That move always worked on guys. Was it possible he was more interested in my tattooed arm than my cock? Seemed like that was what he was looking at.

"Let me walk you home," I offered again. I crossed my arm lazily over my belly, letting him have a good look at my tattoos if that's what he wanted. He gawked at my arm, but looked away quickly.

"I gotta go," He mumbled, and had started away at a quick walk before I could think of anything to say.

Now I thought I knew a way to get at Elijah.

I'd seen the way he looked at my tattoos, with the kind of longing I reserve for a tight ass. He obviously had a weakness for body mod -- just look at those ears, the months it would have taken to slowly stretch his lobes larger and larger until they were the size of milk bottle tops.

Maybe I could use my tattoos to make him take an interest in my body.

I skulked outside his tattoo parlour on the weekends until I finally saw him alone behind the counter. It was two weeks since I'd seen him walking home alone and he'd rejected my offer of company.

"Do you have time for a lip piercing?" I asked as I crossed my arms and laid them across the high counter.

Elijah looked up from the book he was sketching in and his eyes went immediately to my left arm, travelled along my tattoos before flicking up to my face. His lips were slightly parted and his face filled with desire. Oh, fuck yeah. If he'd only look at my cock the way he looked at my tattoos I'd be happy.

Get him hooked on my tattoos, draw him into the rest of my body. No use getting a tattoo from him -- I'd seen him with doing that puma for my mate, he'd been so focused. He didn't have care whose torso he was inking and I wanted him to know damn sure that it was me he was touching. If he had his hands all over my mouth, looking into my eyes... Yeah, that would get his attention.

Elijah cleared his throat with a little cough as he met my eyes and replied, "I can ask one of our qualified piercing --"

I cut in, "I'd like if you did it." I was now leaning fully on the counter, my body tilting forward so I was only a hands length away from his face as he sat on his stool.

I lowered my voice and ducked my head down so I was looking at him from beneath my lashes - with my strong eyebrows and the way I throw my broad shoulders back, it's sexy and killer. I know because I've tried it in the mirror hundreds of times. "I have a tattoo inside my lip, I don't want it to get damaged. I need someone good."

Elijah swallowed visibly, staring into my eyes like he was trapped. Fuck, that little lost boy expression on his face. I just wanted to push him against the wall right now, give him something to smile about.

But an instant later he'd turned away, pulled on a clear glove and was in full professional mode. "Let me see."

I leaned forward even further and opened my mouth, letting my lips fall open and pushing them forward slightly like I was miming sucking an orange. Or sucking a dick. I heared Elijah's breathing hitch but he didn't say anything, just reached for my lower lip. He was trembling.

His fingers touched my lips. I could feel the thrill even through his gloves. Warmth spread from his fingers and through my body. I could feel his breath against my cheeks and see the fine hairs on his chin, just poking out like he needed to shave.

His eyes were so open and inviting, I gazed at them and, just as his fingers touched my skin, Elijah looked at me and our eyes met and I felt a tingling in my spine and a sudden rush of blood to my cock. Fuck, I had it bad for this guy. I needed to fuck him real soon.

Elijah looked down at my mouth and carefully pulled my lower lip out. He actually gasped when he saw my tattoo -- 'FAG' in gothic lettering across the fleshy underside of my lip.

"Holy shit," Elijah said, and it was so calm -- not a shocked cry. I wondered if maybe I'd put him into shock. But no, just his professional focus. "It shouldn't be too hard to place the piercing if you don't want it centred."

I nodded and uncrossed my arms so I could hook one of my fingers into my mouth beside his, the palm of my hand brushing across the top of his gloved hand and sending a little shiver down my arm. I pointed to the right side of my lip to indicate where I wanted it placed.

"You're not after a snake bite?"

I raised an eyebrow -- I couldn't talk with our hands in my mouth.

"A piercing on each side, to sit around the tattoo?" He took his fingers out of my mouth and raised them to his own to mime a piercing on either side on his lower lip. I could see some of my saliva on his gloved fingers and I imagined him just sucking it up. My cock jerked.