Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

well.
    The boy brothels in Ragstown had helped to educate Bobby on mimicking lust and giving back measure for measure. Nights of watching, of engaging, of learning the ways of men intimately involved in lusty congress.
    Oberon looked into Bobby's eyes, even as he stroked the side of Sam's face. Such a connection was almost electric for Sam. That initial flash of jealousy when Oberon first touched Bobby was now changing into something else. Oberon had a way of doing that— making up seem down, inside turned out, twisted seem sane.
    "Is he watching us, Sam? He should be. Let's prove my virility for him to report back to that bastard Rustenberg. I'm going to fuck him, Sam. And he's going to suck you. Then you can keep an eye out and let us know when he finally closes that damned peephole."
    "Oberon—"
    "Bobby," Oberon said softly, "will you get on your knees for me? I want your ass. I want to find out just how satisfying it's been for Sam. My cock is hard and hurting and I need relief. Is your anus naturally lubricated?"
    "Yes, sir. I believe that was included in your design."
    "Excellent. And your elasticity?"
    "Adequate for penetration, sir. At your pleasure." Bobby stepped back. He turned and lowered to all fours.
    "Beautiful." Oberon stroked a hand down Bobby's spine. Then he positioned himself behind Bobby. "Can you come, Bobby?"
    "I am equipped to ejaculate a chemically designed fluid that resembles semen, sir."
    Sam was having a hard time listening to the two of them speak so clinically. He had enjoyed the façade of Bobby's imitated humanness. This conversation between the two of them was, after a manner, unnerving.
    "Ever the scientist, aren't you, Oberon?" he couldn't help asking as he moved in front of Bobby and knelt there. He cupped Bobby's head and looked into his eyes. He swept back a lock of his silky hair. "And you, Bobby, you process every speck of information from every encounter; from every person you soak up the experience without a qualm."
    "It is how I'm fashioned, sir."
    "Yes, it is." Sam couldn't quite keep the regret out of his tone. Was he not quite insane himself for caring about an automaton and a madman? Why was it these two men satisfied him emotionally in a way that no other sane man could? What was it about Sam's makeup that drew him inexorably toward men rooted in madness? Both Bobby and Oberon were intelligent, and brilliant in their own way. Did Sam possess a deeper need to bask in their brilliance, demanding little return of emotion?
    That line of thought was a dangerous one to follow. Sam had learned not to dig too deeply into his motivations. He feared what he would find there among the ruins of his own mind. It was less their lack of emotion, and more his depth of emotion that fueled his actions. It seemed somehow a balance that carried his commitment and attraction for these men.
    When Oberon removed the leather spiked ring from around the base of his cock, Sam was horrified by the reddened, bloody marks that remained imprinted at the root.
    Oberon glanced over at Sam, grimaced and then tossed the ring away. "You see what they have made of me? And you think I am the madman." He pressed in close behind Bobby. Sam saw the wild madness alter into one of sublime pleasure as he pushed into Bobby. "Oh, he's wet and slippery," Oberon said with some measure of delighted surprise. "Oh my God. He is— he is— " Further words were apparently lost to him as he ground into the rhythm of fucking Bobby.
    Sam was mesmerized in watching the myriad of emotions cross Oberon's face as he fucked Bobby. And so it caught him by surprise when Bobby sucked his prick into his mouth. Sam gasped with surprised pleasure. He glanced down at Bobby, seeing his hollowed out cheeks. And then Bobby took him deeper, even as Oberon's motions turned more forceful— more deliberate.
    "Is he watching?" Oberon managed to gasp out the words.
    Sam's eyes shot open, Oberon's question taking him out of the moment. He glanced at the window, saw the guard's face scrunched up against the window, eyes dark and intense, focused upon Oberon.
    "He's watching," he said in a tight voice. Bobby's attentions made it hard to concentrate on anything other than his wonderful mouth riding up and down Sam's cock.
    "Good. When they have me tied down for therapy, that bastard is the one that's always first. Him and that thick damn stick of his. He takes a long time to come. And then he uses that nozzle to clean me out. They all use it."