The Don's Dirty Obsession

“Shut the hell up, don’t take your mouth off my cock unless I say so.”

Cedric huffed with annoyance, dragging his teeth along the underside of the guy’s cock so it would hurt, as payback for talking to him like he was some cheap fuck. Well, he was one, but still…

“Cut that out. What kind of pornstar name is Cedric anyway?” the guy groaned.

Cedric rolled his eyes, put his head down and sucked the tip of the man’s cock first with a wet pop before swallowing the shaft so deep it hit the back of his throat. That always made this guy come quicker, and he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

He let his mind wander somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t involve this grimy piss-smelling stall or the asshole currently moaning above him.

He pictured him, the love of his fucking life. Marcus Chen. Captain of the soccer team, with his stupidly perfect jawline and that easy, confident laugh that made everyone in the hallway turn their heads.

Marcus, who never looked twice at him, a scrawny nerd with the thick glasses and second-hand clothes. Marcus, who was aggressively, undeniably, frustratingly straight.

But fuck, Cedric had loved him anyway. In that desperate, stupid, one-sided way that only a closeted sixteen-year-old could. He’d written him embarrassing love letters, he’d even offered to bottom for him and got “Don’t ever speak to me again, weirdo” as a response.

It was pathetic, really, Cedric still had a thing for him even after all those years. He just pretended Marcus was the one face-fucking him instead, at least that fantasy made this shit bearable.

“I made a single video when I was high, okay?” Cedric lied, climbing to his feet after the guy came. “I’m not a fucking pornstar. You got your blowjob, now pay up.” He snapped.

“That’s what they all say.” The guy… Brad? Brett? Cedric couldn’t remember and didn’t care to, tossed a crumpled wad of money at the floor and Cedric had to swallow the urge to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

Instead, he crouched down and started counting. Twenty. Forty. Sixty. Eighty bucks.

Not bad for thirty minutes of work, but not nearly enough. He did the mental math automatically now, already used to it after years of this routine.

Forty would go to his Mom back home, so she didn’t have to choose between eating and paying the electric bill. Twenty for the interest payment on Dad’s debt, because even though he was dead, the bastard’s gambling habit kept bleeding them dry. That left twenty for himself.

Twenty dollars to get drunk enough on cheap booze that he’d forget he’d once had a 4.0 GPA and dreams of Cornell University’s veterinary program.

He pocketed the cash and turned toward the door, already thinking about which guy at the bar he’d take home tonight.

Someone pretty maybe, someone who wouldn’t ask any questions. Top or bottom, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that something stopped the buzzing in his head. He fucking hated being sober.

“Hold up. Where the hell are you going?”

Cedric paused, hand on the stall door. “Mind your own fucking business.”

“You’re not actually here to pick up boys for fun, you know? I hear that’s what you like to do when your shift’s over. “

Brad-or-Brett was putting his belt back on, giving Cedric that look, the one that said I own you, and we both fucking know it. “You’re here to work, make me some money and pay off what you owe the boss.”

The asshole continued, “Hell, even I shouldn’t even be fucking you on the sly, but I had to see for myself if the rumours about my coworker’s blowjob game were true.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Whatever.” Cedric shoved the door open, muttering under his breath as he stepped out into the dingy bathroom. “Like I wanna spend my Friday night sucking off randos in a stall that probably hasn’t been cleaned since the fucking ice age.”

Cedric caught his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror and barely recognised himself. His glasses were long gone, replaced by contacts, and his scrawny frame had filled out into lean muscle. His hair, once an unfortunate bowl cut, now fell in messy blonde waves that he’d been told were “sexy”.

He looked good. He knew he looked good. So why the fuck was he still here living this fucked up life?

“Big talk for someone who spent his whole life being a nobody outcast,” Brett, his name was definitely Brett, came out from the bathroom stall and started washing his hands like he actually gave a shit about hygiene.

Cedric’s jaw tightened. “Fuck off.”

“I’m just saying. You act like you’re too good for this, but we both know you’re not.”

Brett dried his hands on his jeans, then turned to face him, “Listen, because we go way back and you give damn good head, I’m gonna throw you a lifeline here.”

“Fuck you, and fuck your lifeline. I didn’t ask for your help, or your charity.”

“Shut the hell up and listen to me when I’m talking to you. I know someone who needs a guy with your… skills.” Brett leaned against the sink, arms crossed.”

“The pay is good, good enough that it makes your bathroom hustle look like pocket change. Think about it, Cedric, you could really help out with your old man’s debt, maybe even get back on your own two feet.”

Cedric wasn’t sure how to feel. He didn’t want to hope, because hope was dangerous, and hope got you hurt. But God, he was so fucking tired of counting crumpled bills on piss-stained floors.

“What’s the catch? If it’s so great, why aren’t you going for the job yourself?”

“I’ve got other shit going on right now, so I can’t do it. But I know this pays far better than whatever the hell it is you’re doing here.”

Brett pushed off the sink, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Are you in or what?”

Cedric stared at him, waiting for the con, the angle, the inevitable moment when this would all turn to shit. Because it always did, life had taught him that much.

“So what is it? Want me to hide drugs up my ass to cross the border?” Cedric asked, growing suspicious.

Brett laughed smugly, “Yeah, you’d like to have something up your ass, wouldn’t you? Fucking faggot.”

He continued, “I’m talking about being an informant for the police. They need someone who knows the streets, who knows how things work down here--“

“Fuck that.” He backed toward the door, “I’m not working with cops. Are you a narc? Is that what this is?”

Cedric’s voice rose, now furious. “If you’re trying to nab me for using coke, you can forget it. I won’t tell you who deals for me. I’m not a fucking snitch.”

“Ceddy, wait-“

“Don’t fucking call me that, only my friends call me that.” Cedric’s mind flashed back quickly, he vaguely remembered a small kid who sat behind him in class, calling him Ceddy.

“You have no friends.”

“Doesn’t matter! And No! Absolutely fucking not.” He fumed. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Bringing him all the way over there just so he could talk down to him and send him on shit jobs.

“So you want to keep sucking dick in bathroom stalls for the rest of your life?” Brett’s voice had gone cold now. “That’s your big plan?”

Cedric yanked the door open, “Like I said, mind your own fucking business.” He let the door swing shut behind him, cutting off whatever else Brett was about to say.

The bar was loud, pulsing with bass so powerful that it shook the ground. Cedric shouldered his way through the crowd of people on the dance floor, his eyes scanning the place… until bingo.

Pretty boy in the corner booth with a shy smile, sipping a drink like he wasn’t sure he belonged here. Perfect.

Cedric caught the boy’s eye and winked at him. Then he let his gaze linger just long enough to make his intentions clear, before jerking his head toward the exit, the universal signal for follow me.

Cedric counted down in his head. They always followed before he got to three; no one could resist a face like his. One… Two…

The boy, maybe twenty-two, twenty-three, got up, then nervously followed Cedric into the shadowy alley behind the bar. Hell yeah.

“Hi, my name’s…” he started awkwardly.

“I hear you, handsome. Now take your pants off.”

Cedric was already reaching for his belt when he heard a gunshot going off out of nowhere.

Three men came out of the darkness like something out of some fucked up nightmare, and all of them were armed, pointing guns directly at Cedric.

The one in the middle smiled menacingly, “There you are,” he said, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”