HANDO never would've known the bloke was a poofter if he hadn't have happened to have caught him coming out of the fag bar. 

He knew him, had once had him out to the warehouse where they were staying, and had paid him to hook up the water. Jeff his name was, Hando recalled. He'd smiled friendly, done his job and moved on without asking too many questions. Seemed like an all right bloke at the time.

Since then Hando had seen him around, driving past in his plumbing truck, running with his mates, playing footy in the park. He'd even watched him play a bit, and the guy wasn't bad. The plumber had caught him watching once and smiled friendly like, ducking a shy grin as and waving despite Hando's shaved head and Neo-Nazi tattoos. At the time it had caught the skinhead so off-guard that he had actually smiled back before he could stop himself. Now, for some reason, seeing the footy-playing faggot come out of the Barking Dog holding hands with another nancy boy just made him see red. It was like he had somehow been personally betrayed.

"I wish I could invite you back t'my place, Jeff," Ian said with soft regret in his eyes. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

"I'd like that," Jeff agreed, never letting his eyes waver from the dark browns of the younger man. His thumb caressed the webbing between Ian's thumb and forefinger tenderly. "Tell you what..." He sighed finally. "You have my number, you let me know when you're ready."

Despite his soft, confident tone, his heart leapt about in his chest like a rabbit. Ian was young, Ian was testing the waters, Ian was sexy as hell, and Jeff wanted to be his first lover so bad he could taste it. He would be gentle and caring, he would take loving affectionate command, he would introduce Ian with tender care into the world of gay love as he himself had been introduced by Kevin more than five years previous.

Snatches of their softly spoken conversation drifted Hando's way. It made his stomach cramp up, the way the men cooed softly to each other in the darkness. He saw how the younger man looked up at the plumber with both lust and trust, which gave a good effect at imitating something along the lines of what appeared to be love, or something very much like it.

The skinhead turned his face and spat violently on the sidewalk, wishing he could just chunder up the sick feeling twisting deep in his guts.

"I'd like that, Jeff," Ian was agreeing with a nod, his voice soft and low and just a little bit nervous yet. He raised the older man's hand, wrapped tight still around his own and nuzzled a tender kiss over each knuckle Then he disengaged their fingers and took a step back. His eyes searched Jeff's." I want you to be my first, Jeff... It's just.... I'm not quite ready."

"I understand." Jeff had a hard time keeping desire and disappointment out of his eyes as he slowly stepped back, breaking contact with Ian. A hint of a smile brushed over his handsome features. "I'll be around," he promised, and then he slipped off into the shadows, heading back to where he'd parked his work truck, not wanting to risk the further temptations of the other men back inside the pub. He knew what he wanted, and if he was patient, he was going to get it. It was all a matter of time.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Hando complained bitterly.

"Yeah, fuckin faggots!" Bubs smacked his fist into the open flat of his own palm. He was the youngest of Hando's little family of lost and fallen angels. Bubs was only fourteen and sometimes Hando heard him crying late in the dark of the night for the innocence he'd lost at so young an age. What he lacked in years, he tried to make up for in toughness - always the first ready to jump into things, trying to be front of the line when trouble broke out, always willing to start something rough.

Bub's overly bright eyes flicked up to see the expression on Hando's face. "Are we gonna take him Hando?" he asked eagerly. "Show him the error of his ways?" This last was a laughing sneer.

Hando reached out and gave Bub's close-cropped head a light smack. "You're goin' back to the squat, mate." He told the boy. "'S'past your bedtime." His keen eyes could just make the plumber out in the shadows of the alley across the way, leaning against the side of his truck, eyes on the Southern Cross high overhead. The look on his face as if he was maybe praying for some kinda Angel of Love to fly down.

He was gonna get an angel, all right, only not the kind he was hoping for. Hando was going to fly right over there like the Dark Angel he was and visit righteousness upon the man.

"Go on." He gave Bubs a shove. 

"But Hando!" The boy protested. "I wanna stay and watch y-"

"Go!" Hando growled, taking a menacing step towards the boy, his big boot slapping the concrete underfoot with a hard sound that sent Bubs running pell-mell in the other direction, headed back towards the old warehouse they had taken over the week before.

He hitched his tight white denim work-pants a little higher on his lean muscled frame as he took a quick look up and down the street then stepped across, keeping to the shadows, hands shoved deep in the pockets of the black topcoat he wore.

"Oi."

The sound came out of the darkness, hissed like some sort of malevolent warning. Jeff's eyes came down from the night sky quickly, seeking the source of the voice.

"Oi, faggot."

Jeff's heart caught in his chest, ice water rushed quick through his veins. The malice in the tone was unmistakable. His eyes quickly flicked through the dark alley, again seeking the source of the voice, or even better yet, in hopes of some support. Neither was to be found.

"Who's there?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound more strong and confident than he felt. It was rare to have trouble in this part of town. This was, after all, a nice Sydney suburb. Sydney had one of the highest gay populations in the world and yet relatively low incidence of trouble for it. Not like London, where the roving packs of skinheads-

The thought broke off with a soft gasp as Hando stepped out of the shadows as if he was a demon the thought had somehow conjured. His eyes gleamed bright with dark mischief. Jeff recognised the skinhead leader immediately. It's not like there were a lot of his type around the neighborhood, and ever since he and his little band of misfits had come around the week before, they had been a hot topic of convo around town.

He tried on a nervous smile, letting the skinhead know he remembered him by his tone. "Hey, mate," his voice was as friendly as he could manage under the circumstances "Not having more trouble with those pipes, I hope?"

Hando's eyes narrowed on him, dark and angry. The reminder that they had met and transacted business only made things worse and his blood boiled angry in his veins. "I got a pipe for ya right here, faggot." He grabbed his crotch with a sneer and as his voice dropped to a low growl on the last word.

"Hey, now... look, mate..." Jeff backed up, hands palm out in a gesture of defensive surrender to the other man's quiet dominance "I don't want any trouble, okay?" He kept his voice as low and calm as he could manage, tried not to let his eyes waver even when the truck's side mirror bumped his back and nearly made him jump. He reckoned the best way to deal with this was like he'd suddenly found himself face to face with a hissing Brown snake, something that did happen on occasion in his line of work. Just back off slow and quiet and you will likely live to tell the tale to your mates over a coldie later.

Hando took a step forward, closing the space between them in a single go. He had no interest in letting his prey off so easily. His eyes took in the young man's face, soft curls of hair, still a slight layer of puppy fat on his bones, despite the sports he seemed so keen on.

The plumber's eyes had gone wide and round with the fear he was working so hard to hide. The smell of it hung sharp and sweet in the air between them and Hando couldn't help it. The fear of others had always been something of a turn on for him His dick rustled in its tight denim prison. The dark intent in his eyes was unmistakable.

Jeff's fingers dug for the keys that should've already been in his hand, for defense, to make a quick getaway - something. He could feel the cold metal of the truck at his back but was afraid to turn away, to take his eyes from the man before him. His lashes flickered over his wide blue eyes, trying not to see the shape of the skinhead's growing bolt etched against the stark whiteness of his jeans. His own dark blue denims tightened as if in reply. How could his body betray him at a moment like this? He tried to swallow but his throat was dry. How could his own cock be stiffening in the face of such danger?

He pulled out his keys and his hand snuck back feeling for the lock near the door handle. 

In one lightning quick move the skinhead closed the distance, a vice-like hand closing over Jeff's hand and yanking, pulling his arm up hard behind his back, forcing their chests to make contact. "Goin' somewhere, Sunshine?" The man's breath was thick in his face, rich with hops from the beer he'd obviously been drinking, hard with the smell of cheap whiskey, smoky with the smell of stale ciggies. He tried not to flinch as the aroma filled his face.

"You don't want this," Jeff managed, his voice choked and low. 

"Don't I?" the other responded. His grip tightened until the plumber dropped the keys into his hand.

Preposterously enough, an old American cigarette ad slogan scrolled through Jeff's mind, something he'd seen in a magazine as a boy, "I'd rather fight than switch."

He didn't take the time to ponder over this, however. At the moment, he had more pressing problems. The skinhead's other hand came up to grip his face, hard fingers pressing at his cheeks until his lips pursed and opened like a child being forced to take his meds.

"Now, you listen to me," the man ranted in his face. "I am going to let you go and you are going to do exactly as I tell you. You're gonna do it quick smart without a word. If you scream or try and get away or cross, I will make you sorry your fairy ass was ever born. We clear?" His eyes were hard, but there was a merry light in them, he was taking pleasure in feeding off of Jeff's fear and given the circumstances, there was nothing Jeff could do to stop it. All he could do was lock his knees against the shaking and jerk his head in a small nod.

"Good." The skinhead laughed then and let him go. He pressed the cold sharp keys back into Jeff's shaking hand. "Now, we're gonna get into your truck and you're gonna drive until I tell you to stop."

The muscles in Jeff's jaw jumped, once, twice and then were still. He dropped his eyes to the dirty cement at their feet. The green metal of an old VB tinnie caught his eye and he nearly sighed. Why couldn't he have simply stayed in tonight, had a few with his Dad, watched the nighttime shows on the ABC? Why was this happening to him?

"Quit yer daydreaming, Mary, and let's go!" Hando's hard hand spun the plumber around so fast he nearly caught the side of his head on the truck's side-view mirror. The young man flinched just in the nick and managed to avoid a jolt that would have likely knocked him cold.

Jeff caught a glance of his own pale drawn face in the glass as he stepped back to avoid the blow. As much trouble as he might be in now, as much as he might wish this was all a bad dream, being unconscious at a moment like this was the last thing he could afford.

He unlocked the door with shaking hands, and the skinhead got in first, sliding across the seat, one hand clamped tight on the back of Jeff's neck, pulling him along after. There was something almost intimate in the gesture and Jeff's body responded by sending a fresh supply of blood to his lower extremities. He hoped and prayed the young tough wouldn't notice. If he saw how this scene was affecting his prey, he just might go round the bend and go fully mental.

"Drive," Hando commanded in a gruff, no nonsense tone and the plumber understood and did just that. 

Hando pulled out his pack of fags and smoked, eyes scanning the dark late night streets they moved through, occasionally flicking through the gloom of the cab to his captive. He instructed turns at random until they were moving into the industrial side of town, eerie and desolately deserted at this time of night on a weekend. He wasn't sure where they were headed, wasn't sure what he was going to do yet, what he wanted. He'd stepped across to the alley with the intent of beating the queer senseless, leaving him bloody and beaten in the alley behind his truck, a message to pervos everywhere that their kind were not to be tolerated...

But something had changed; something dark and uncomfortable had swum through his veins as he'd stood there with his wide angry nostrils filling with the scent of the young man's fear.

Jeff, his mind whispered. The plumber's name was Jeff. 

Hando shook his head as if to clear it. Where had that come from? Didn't matter, he had no use for such information. No, better to stay cold and aloof, better not to remember the plumber's warm and friendly smile.

"Stop there," Hando commanded, a long, pale finger pointing, and Jeff pulled into an alley between two large buildings, both dark and deserted at this time of night on the weekend. Only the glow of a streetlight at the far end of the tiny side street and the moon and stars above provided illumination as the skinhead pulled the young man out of the truck with a jerk so rough it sent him spinning.

Jeff stumbled but caught himself at the last moment, fingers brushing the dirty gravel for balance as he pushed back to his feet. 

Hando a small scared voice at the back of his mind whispered. The skinhead's name was Hando. 

He tried to think of a way out of this. What was it they were always saying on the news? Try to make your would-be attacker see you as a human being and not a faceless victim. He tried to make eye contact with the man before him, tried to make him really see him.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," Hando snarled and the low hiss was scarier and more deadly than any shout could have been. "I see what you're on, and it won't work."

Jeff nodded and dropped his eyes. On the way down they couldn't help brushing over the skinhead's taut physique. His oversized military topcoat was open and couldn't hide the broad well muscled chest under a plain white T-shirt stretched tight enough to show the hard nubs of his erect nipples. The pressed white denim over his legs strained to contain his massive, well-muscled thighs.

Jeff's mind tried to speak reason. "This bloke may well kill you in the next few minutes and here you are checking out the goods? " He blinked slowly and forced his eyes to the toes of Hando's scuffed but shiny black Doc Martens. Funny the things one's mind went to when the world was about to end.

Hando was meanwhile stalking a slow circle around his victim, moving with fluid feline grace as he tried to decide what came next. His eyes traveled over the plumber as he went.

"So," he said finally, stopping to cross his arms across his chest and rock back on his heels as he took in the obedient way the poofter's eyes stuck submissively to the ground. "You suck cock, you fairy faggot?"

The words were intended to wind himself up as well as put a fresh round of nastiness into the proceedings and he watched with grim satisfaction as the man admitted to this transgression with a small nod. From the scared expression on the young man's face, he would've admitted to just about anything including tossing off to the piccies of the Queen Mum to get out of the situation he now found himself in. Hando smirked and licked back a grin.

Crack! His big hard callused hand flew out and caught the unsuspecting plumber flat across the side of the face.

"I. Can't. Hear. You, Sunshine." Hando's voice was full of menace and perverse joy. 

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Jeff by the hair and yanked hard, tempted to kick his feet out from under him to get him moving faster.

 Jeff saw what was being asked of him and sank to his knees quick smart. Sure, the skinhead was acting out the misplaced repressed feelings of his latent desires, something Jeff had read all about in an old school book in the library years ago. Classic though the scenario may be, knowing that was not affording him a way out of this. Obedience, however, might.

Hando's grip in his hair tightened and Jeff winced, arms windmilling a little as he fell forward, trying not to grab onto the skinhead's legs for support. Instead he ended up nose deep in Hando's crotch. For a brief moment his senses filled with the smell and the feel of the other man's sex, he could feel it twitch as it hardened under the tight denim, then his face was ripped away violently.

"You wanna suck my cock, Nellie?" Hando's laugh was low and nasty, full of malice, but there was something else in there, too. Something that gave Jeff hope.

"Yes," he answered quickly, the stinging of his cheek a reminder that this man desired verbal confirmation. Jeff's eyes fell submissively to the laces of the skinhead's boots."Please, Hando, please let me suck your big -"

"Belt up, or I'll deal you another one," the standing man snarled, but there was less menace in his tone than before. 

He rocked back on his heels again, looking down at the tousled head of the man below him. The faggot wanted his cock? Well, fine then, he could choke on it, and choke he would, as many had before him, bitches all, their hot little mouths straining to swallow his thick, wide length.

He jerked the plumber's head forward again, rubbing his face back and forth against the hard bolt housed in his trousers. A moment later, he let the man go with a rough shake. "Pull it out."

That was all Jeff needed to hear to believe he might survive this encounter. 

He reached with shaking fingers to pull down the fly of Hando's tight jeans, and managed, despite the wide braces the man wore, to undo them enough to reach inside. He was unable to draw him out however and Hando finally undid the braces so that Jeff was able to peel the tight denim down past his hips enough to free him.

Jeff couldn't help drawing a soft breath as he took in the way the package in the skinhead's briefs weighted them down so that they rested low on his hips. As there was no fly, he was forced to draw the sock-like briefs down as well, and Hando's impressive tool bounced out proudly just about at face level.

He barely got a minute to marvel at the wide, thick uncut bolt in his face before the skinhead's hands were on him again, one in his hair raising his face, one squeezing his jaw with an almost bone crushing grip.

"You try and bite me, you lose your fuckin' teeth, got that?" Hando narrowed a hard stare at the man on his knees before him.

"Yes," Jeff whispered as best he could as Hando's thick blunt fingers gripped hard into his cheeks, then let him go with a shake.

"Now, suck me." 

Grabbing both sides of Jeff's face, Hando aimed his head and rammed between the man's parted lips. He felt the rounded tip hit the soft back of the plumber's throat with a suddenness that made the man gag and choke reflexively. He pulled out again and grabbed his victim by the hair, hand pulled back for another quick smack, but not yet striking. "What's your fuckin problem, luv?" he taunted. "I thought you wanted it."

Big blue-green eyes looked up at him, watering slightly from the effort of not chundering, a silvery string of spit hanging down from the corner of his lip, still connecting him to the man above.

The way he was being looked at made Hando feel like he was a devil about to violate an angel, one of God's own, a hundred steps beyond pulling the wings off flies. He felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt. And it made him angry, feeling like that, so he went ahead and cracked the fairy across the face, breaking the silken line that connected them in the process.

Jeff pulled a slow breath and fought back the tears that sprang automatically to his eyes simply in reaction to the sharp sting of the slap. 

Tears were what Hando wanted, and they were the one thing he was not going to get. In this life, Jeff's pride had often cost him, but if it meant he was beaten or worse for being who and what he was, so be it. The brutal man before him could break his body, but he could not, would not break his mind.

"You didn't give me a chance," Jeff murmured a soft protest as soon as his voice seemed steady again.

"Shut up!" Hando roared, but in contrast to his words, his hand loosened in Jeff's hair. He pulled a low breath, seemed to be thinking. He opened his mouth and this time his voice was steadier, too. "Show me."

Jeff reached up and wrapped his hand around the stiff bolt before him, pulling back the foreskin. His tongue lapped experimentally at the hot purple mushroom cap, bracing himself, already working not to cringe against the blow he was sure would fall at any moment.

When it didn't come, he grew bolder, pulling back his lips to slowly swallow the head while his fist stroked the velvety skin over the man's hard shaft, a tightness between his legs signaling his own growing excitement as he eased Hando's cock deeper into his mouth. His tongue provided a soft warm slippery welcome, sliding and lapping over the salty skin, varying the length and the depth of the strokes, taking his cues from the low grunts of pleasure overhead.

"Yeh, fuck yeahhh..." Hando's head rolled back between his wide shoulders, his booted feet shuffled then planted to provide a wider stance for balance. Never in his life had anyone, not anyone polished his knob so well. His hands slipped into dark hair to tangle in the soft curls of the man on his knees before him, fighting back the urge to simply fuck his face until he came. This was too good to rush.

Jeff felt a thrill of pleasure move down his spine and curl up like a cat in his crotch. He let his wide wet tongue slide lower as his hand continued long steady strokes up and down Hando's length. His tongue pointed to flick over the furry, wrinkled sac, nuzzling into the sweat musky thatch of coarse curls, growing dizzy on the man-scent, mouth growing more eager by the moment.

"Ohhh, shiiiittt..." Hando sucked a low shuddery breath as the plumber sucked in one of his balls, gently rolling it on the wide flat of his tongue, then sucking with slow pulls on his sac as if weighing his load. His head swam as the process was repeated on that ball's twin.

Oh Jesus, Jesus, had anything ever felt so good, so excruciatingly torturously sweet? The man's knowing touch and hot mouth kept working him right to the edge of pleasure and then backing off again, over and over until the heat of his need rolled over him in warm waves, lapping like the tongue working its way back up his shaft with quick flicks all along the veiny underside of his thick bolt.

Encouraged by the moans and soft grunts from above, Jeff prepared to swallow Hando again. This time, with no rough hands at the back of his head to prevent him from doing it right, he took a deep breath and relaxed his throat muscles as he dove, slowly working the skinhead's thickness as deep as he could.

He let his eyes flick up to gauge Hando's reaction and saw his beautiful animal face pulled back in a grimace of intense rapture. Impossibly cupid-like lips parted as he panted out his pleasure on hitching breaths. The knowledge that he was taming the gorgeous beast above him was enough to encourage him to stretch his throat wider to take the final inches of Hando's thick tool and his nose found the musky curls again as the roundness of the man's head lodged deep in his throat.

Hando's eyes rolled back feeling his balls draw up and tighten as he reached the hot depths of Jeff's throat. At that moment he didn't care who or what was making him feel this good - he just didn't want it to stop, ever.

He panted out a litany of husky encouragement the likes of which he had never spoken before and was rewarded by tongue strokes and an increase of suction as the man on his knees swallowed him down a second time.

Jeff felt Hando's bolt twitch on his tongue and knew he was close to release. He let his fingers encircle the base of the skinhead's sac and pulled gently, the effect of which, while pleasurable in and of itself, also had the added benefit of staving off the imminence of the man's spill. A low groan of barely suppressed frustration was his reward, but no violence was visited upon him.

He pulled back and let the head of Hando's cock rest on his tongue a moment, tasting the salt of the pre-cum that wept from the winking slit. He held the staff in his hand and spit into his own palm to wet it, then his mouth resumed the slow suctioning strokes, hand working in tandem with the pull of his lips.

"Yeh, yeh, fuuuck yehhhh..." Hando's hips were starting to buck along with the strokes now, pulling closer and closer to the edge with each hot wet tug of the other man's mouth.

Feeling very much in control of the situation, Jeff took a chance and paused to suck his own finger before resuming his wet caress on Hando's cock. He reached under and back just as he opened his throat to swallow the full length of the skinhead's bolt again, letting his slick finger nestle deep between the other man's cheeks, pressing lightly against the tight bud of muscle.

Head thrown back, hand under his shirt on his own pointy hard nipple, Hando was just arching into the stroke as he felt the finger invade his arse. He stiffened in shock and let out a scream somewhere between pleasure and surprised rage.

Uh oh, thought Jeff. Wrong fuckin' move, mate. But it was too late, his probing finger was trapped in the other man's fear tightened hole.

"Get it out!" Hando roared, eyes wide, his throbbing prick betraying him once more as fresh sticky pre-cum seeped out of his slit.

"Relax," Jeff urged, waiting for the muscle to release, nuzzling the angry man's cock, trying to stay calm, expecting to be attacked at any moment.

"NOW!"

"Shh, shh... relax a bit, mate, or I can't," he explained gently, wiggling his finger experimentally. "Not without hurting you."

Quite a pickle, this new situation Hando found himself in. On the one hand, his rage was so great that he wanted to rend and tear, smash and break. On the other, if he didn't relax like the plumber was telling him, he might just be the one who ended up torn.

He took a deep shuddery breath and then another, trying to back up his anger and each new breath finally drew a little easier than the last. After what seemed like an eternity, the offending finger was withdrawn, but the burning ring of muscle was a warm reminder of his rage, which quickly returned.

He pushed the plumber away, planted a booted foot on the man's chest and pushed him sprawling into the dirt and oily gravel of the alley. Jeff fell back and looked up at him with sad, hurt eyes, but made no effort to move away or defend himself.

Jeff looked up at Hando, body undefended, knowing he had made a cock-up of things and that trouble would most likely follow. The sharp points of the gravel beneath him pressed at his back and kept him from being able to believe this was all some twisted dream caused by one too many dips in the joy juice. No, this was all too real.

"Get up... GET UP! "Hando roared, grabbing Jeff by the forelock of his hair and hauling him to his feet when he seemed too slow to respond. 

The moment the plumber was on his feet, the skinhead let go and sent him reeling to bounce off a chain link fence. Jeff's finger's caught at the wire to keep himself from falling and held on, panting, not wanting to look back over his shoulder at the enraged man behind him, sure that to do so would incite further wrath. The fact that his own hard bolt was still throbbing in his jeans only made matters worse, distracting him when he needed to be thinking up a way to get out of this mess with a minimum of damage.

The cool night air hit Hando's spit slick cock and he became aware that the ache in his loins had not been satisfied. Fuckin' fairy. Just like a fag to get him riled up and leave him hanging. S'what their kind did. Fuckin' pervos, all of them. His hand fell to his hard-on, stroking and caressing as he surveyed the scene he had created while he tried to decide how to exact his revenge on the plumber.

Jeff wanted desperately to turn around, to see what the skinhead had in store for him. Instead, he clung to the fence trying to brace himself for the kicks and blows he was sure were to come. He could feel the heat of the other man's bright and intense gaze boring a hole into his back.

When the attack he was expecting didn't come, he cut his eyes as far to the side as he could and managed a glimpse of Hando, stroking his tool and giving him a hard, thoughtful look.

He pulled his eyes back to the front, taking in the tinnie factory across an open lot littered with rubbish and industrial debris. He dared to take a deep, calming breath but it drew in shaky then caught in his throat as a rough hand knotted in his hair. A voice growled deep in his ear. "Gimme a franger."

"What?" Jeff wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Gimme a fuckin' franger, bitch." A hand groped rudely in Jeff's pockets, pulling out his wallet and tossing it to the ground along with his keys, a tube of lip balm and yes, a plastic packet that enclosed a condom.

The skinhead's big hand swooped to pick it up and he held it between his teeth while his free hand wrestled with the waist of the plumber's jeans, managing to pop the button and yank down the denim, his wrist brushing over the young man's hard-on in the process.

"Oh ho!" " Hando leaned in again with leering glee to breathe hot in Jeff's ear, sending shiver's over the plumber's flesh. "You're likin' this, are ya? You like it rough, darlin'? Huh?"

"No," Jeff mumbled, face flushed with shame at his body's betrayal.

"Yeah? Well this..." the skinhead gave Jeff's hard cock a slap and then a rough pinch through his briefs, "... this here says otherwise, mate."

Jeff's fingers curled into the links of the wire fence and a low moan choked in his throat. He'd never been into rough trade, had never wanted to hurt or be hurt, such things went against his very nature. But as Hando pawed and pulled at him roughly through his shorts his pulse jumped, his blood sang in his veins. His trembling was no longer simply from fear... it was also from need.

One hard twisting yank and the plumber's briefs joined his jeans low on his legs, nearly tore them right off, and the young man's bolt bounced into view. While not as thick as Hando's, his cock was beautiful - curved, like something lovingly carved in pale pink marble to stand proud in the wash of moonlight.

Jeff shivered and his bolt arched eagerly as if begging to be touched.

Hando could not have cared less. He was currently occupied with the task of opening the franger packet and sliding the protective sleeve onto his own tool. He would take what he wanted from this man. He would possess him and break him and make him pay, but he was not gonna catch some fairy-killing disease in the process.

As his hand unrolled the sheath with a practised move, his eyes moved to take in the plumber. Head down, breathing hard, fingers wrapped tight to the fence, he seemed to wait, resigned to his fate. The air was again thick with the smell of his fear, but now it mixed with something more, something that the skinhead found equally appealing.

Hando's nostrils flared to breathe it in again. He could smell need.

Jeff gasped and almost fell as heavy booted feet moved to kick his legs wider apart. He let his body slouch a little lower and felt hands pulling at his hips, adjusting him to an angle that better suited the owner of those hands. No one had taken him in years, not since his first, not since Kevin... and there was none of Kevin's loving tenderness in the touch he felt now.

He felt his cheeks being spread, heard Hando spit and then something warm and wet trickling down his crack. He wanted to scream, to cry out, to fight, and to run... but he was held tight in the skinhead's grip and even if he could get away, how far would he get before Hando took him down? No, it was better to stay as still and docile as he could manage. Compliant submission seemed to be the key to survival with this hard and angry man.

Still, he tensed as he felt the slick pointy-head of the skinhead's prick press against his tight hole. 

He tried to remember that night with Kevin long ago, thought of all the calming, soothing words he himself had used to relax the handful of men he had been with, tried to breathe and remember to push back as he felt Hando spear the tight ring of muscle...

"Unh!" Jeff winced and his breath caught in his chest, hitched in pain as he felt the wide knob press deeper. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, not wanting to give Hando the satisfaction of his cries as he felt the flared head spreading him wider, pressing relentlessly into his body.

Hando barely heard the plumber's low shuddery groan. What little of it registered only served to inflame him more, and he leaned harder, one hand on the other man's shoulder, tempted, oh so very tempted to simply ram himself balls deep but for the moment, he was enjoying the slow plundering of the other man's ass.

"Huuhhhh...." Jeff's fingers were white on the fence now, so tight was his grip. He felt the tight bud of muscle spread finally and give way and the skinhead slid in several centimetres with a low moan of his own as the heat enclosed him like a tight fist.

He could wait no longer, it felt too fucking good, so hot and tight... Hando's fingers tightened on the back of the plumber's neck as he reared back and then plunged himself the rest of the way home.

He moaned low as he felt the other man's muscle's tighten in surprise, then slowly relax to admit him like a warm and welcome embrace.

"Hooo fuuucck..." Jeff gasped as he felt his ass taken suddenly, the long thick shaft filling him hard and quick. The massive hand at the back of his neck tightened, holding him there, reading the shudder that ran through him at the unexpected jolt.

He panted soft and low, breathing, breathing, breathing... until he was able to draw a full breath again. The pain ebbed and he began to adjust to the feeling of being filled.

Hando's fingers dug into his skin as he began to stroke deep and hard, impaling him again and again.

"Oh, yeh, fuck yeh." Each thrust was punctuated with a grunt as Hando pulled back only to plunge in again hard and fast, his wide cock scraping the depths of the other man's tight channel. It was a magnificent feeling, one to rival even the earlier blowjob because it had been taken, not given.

He grunted again as his hip bones made soft slapping contact against the firm globes of the plumber's ass. This time he heard a responding moan from the man under him. "You like it, doncha?"

"No," Jeff panted, but his body was beginning to loosen up and move with the strokes. The pain and shame and outrage he'd felt earlier were slowly giving way to a new feeling. Pleasure.

"You fuckin' love it," Hando insisted as his strong fingers rubbed and pulled at the plumber's cheeks, leaving red prints to mark their trail.

"No, I..."

The skinhead's hand slipped up Jeff's heaving sides and slid under his shirt to give his nipple a rough, twisting tug that made him gasp sharply and cut off any further words.

As if to punctuate his meaning, Hando thrust deep, hard enough to make Jeff lose his balance had his fingers not still been wrapped tight on the fence.

"Ohhh, fuuuuck...." The plumber's head fell to hang low between his broad shoulders and Hando laughed.

"Yeh, you like it." Hando plowed into him again reveling in the way the tight ring of muscle seemed to milk him lovingly with every thrust. 

A hand closed over Jeff's hard, aching bolt, calloused palm rough against the sensitive velvety head, and this time the plumber nearly choked on his moan.

Hando's shaft spread and impaled him, filling him in a way he had never known, never dreamed of, never thought he wanted, and now this demanding hand, gripping and pulling... it was too much.

He felt the tightness in his lower back ease as his balls drew up. Hando's fingers flattened, pressing him back against his own flat belly, pinching at the sensitive flesh as he continued to pound in and out of Jeff's ass.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna -"

"Oh no, you're not." Hando's fingers slid down to tighten a slow pulling ring at the top of Jeff's sac, just as the plumber had done to him earlier.

"Beg me." His voice was a low, evil growl. "Tell me how much you love feelin' my hard cock in your ass and then beg me."

"Oh Jesus," the man under him panted, and the skinhead nearly chuckled. 

"He can't help you. You want something, Sunshine? Ask me..."

"Please." Jeff heard the word come out of his own mouth and it surprised him. He hadn't planned to speak it. In fact, he'd been struggling not to give the skinhead the satisfaction of even another gasp. But the slow building push-pull sensation seemed to be taking over, and his body apparently had plans of its own.

"Please what?" Hando insisted.

"Please..."

"Yessss?" he leaned in to hear better, burying himself to the hilt in the process. His hand fell to the other man's hard bolt again, pulling and stroking to further elicit the words he wanted.

"Please..." Jeff's voice was a rough husky whisper as his hips bucked in response to the attention his cock was getting. The skinhead's free hand moved up to wrap under his throat, pressing his chin up and his head back. The sweet build-up of pressure combined with the aching fullness was nearly more than he could bear. It was maddening, it was impossible to resist. "Let me come."

"Tell me," the skinhead prodded patiently.

"Yes," the plumber agreed, though he had promised himself he would not give in. "Yes, you feel good in me." A series of slow deep thrusts and several strokes rewarded him, urged him to further confess. "So big, so... hhhuuhhh... yeaahhh." His head fell back, almost resting on the shoulder of the man behind him.

The first blush of victory crawled over Hando's skin like warmth from the sun. "Now..." his words hissed in the young man's ear as he continued his slow deep strokes, "beg me."

"Ohhhgoddd..." Jeff lost his breath in a gasp as the skinhead's plowing knob found a spot deep inside him that nearly sent him over the edge. He caught his breath only to become aware of a soft murmuring sound, then slowly became aware that the sounds were coming from his own throat. "Oh yes, fuck, yes... fuck me, please, fuck me with your big hard bolt, anything, just... ohgod, Hando, please..."

His body began to jerk as every gasping word earned him another rough stroke of the man's fist, pulling in tandem with the hard, full sensation of being filled again and again.

Hando's anger melted into desire as the need for release began to build. Hearing the young man under him beg and pant only made his need more urgent. The plumber's own impending release caused the muscles surrounding the skinhead's thick bolt to tighten further.

"Haahh, fuuuucccck yeeaaahhhh," he moaned, his hand pulling and milking Jeff's throbbing prick, finally feeling wetness, warm and sticky over his fingers as the man beneath him came, moaning soft and low, panting out his release.

Barely giving him a chance to finish, Hando let go of the twitching bolt and moved both hands to grip tight on Jeff's smooth, fleshy hips, digging in as he began to stroke for all he was worth.

"Hooohh yehhh, fuuuuck yehhh...." His shaved head hung low between his shoulders as he stroked deep, hard and fast, face pinched in concentration as he relentlessly pursued his own pleasure.

Jeff felt a sudden emptiness but had no chance to contemplate the reason why as a booted foot swept to knock his feet out from under him, and he barely caught himself on his hands before he hit the ground.

He rolled to his back and looked up just in time to see Hando ripping off the franger and stroking himself to a finish. A big hand grabbed him by the hair, tilting his face back to catch the first hot spurt across his cheek. More followed and the skinhead held him there, raining his release down upon Jeff's forcibly upturned face.

The fist in his hair loosened. Jeff raised a shaking hand to wipe the sticky spill from his face. He saw the kick coming too late to move out of the boot's path, but it wasn't particularly well aimed as if the move to violence was only half hearted at best.

Hando yanked up his trousers, tucked himself away quickly, then hunkered down to grab Jeff's cheeks in a vise-like grip. 

"This. Never. Happened." His voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. "Got that?" 

The man on the ground nodded as best he could, indicating that he understood perfectly. The skinhead let him go and drew back again, making a scraping sound low in his throat.

Jeff knew what was coming and he closed his eyes, trying not to wince as he felt the mouthful of spit hit his cheek.

"Fuckin' faggot."

He waited a beat, then used the sleeve of his flannel to wipe the offending wetness from his face.

By the time he opened his eyes, Hando was moving through a pool of light halfway down the alley, his long legs flashing as they ate up the distance.

By the time he'd managed to pull up his jeans and make it to his feet, the skinhead had disappeared.

Epilogue

"So, did'ya hear?" Harry Mitchell's voice was light as a breeze as he passed his son the tomato sauce.

"Hear what, Dad?" Jeff barely looked up from his tea, absently dumping enough sauce onto his chips to drown both them and the fish fillets his father had baked up after work.

"Well, it's those Neo-Nazi fellas been squatting over there in the warehouses across town. They finally pulled stakes and moved on." 

He watched his boy's eyes flash up then quickly drop down to his plate again. Tea-time at the Mitchell residence was generally a time when the two men came together to knock back a pint and catch up, but his son had been unusually quiet and withdrawn the past few days.

At first Harry had chalked it up to him mooning over a young fella from the pub he'd heard Jeff mention a time or two and the fact that their telephone had been fairly quiet of late. Now he wasn't so sure.

"You had some dealings with that lot, didn't you?" He watched his son over the rim of his glass as he pulled a sip of beer. 

"Yeah." Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his seat under his father's watchful scrutiny.

"Didn't give you any trouble, though, you said?"

"No, Dad," the young man sighed, eyes shifting to fall on the sky out the window and paused as if expecting an angel to come tumbling from the heavens. "No trouble at all."