Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

after he got off the hamster wheel and his mind had cleared, when he was afraid of what he might have contracted. He stayed clean, he stayed sober, he remained celibate, he focused on his music. He got tested and went for regular check-ups. Since those days he never fucked unwrapped. And never engaged in more than fucking, with him doing the fucking.
    Control. In every part of his life except for his music. In that–whether playing or composing, he let everything out. It's one of the reasons they were being considered for a major recording contract. Sinn was leery, he'd been burned, but this time the band had an agent–this time it felt real.
    But his personal life, what there was of it, remained empty, and lonely. Not one of the men who had tramped through his life had been memorable. Yeah, empty was the best word. Untouched. He'd thought it was just that he'd learned his lessons, had hardened, was experienced. But tonight, something was shifting. It scared, and it excited him. But after maintaining such tight control for the last few years on his personal life, how could he possibly allow his emotions to run unchecked? What had this man done to him? What had he let himself in for this time?
    He dragged his feet. He tried to eye the narrow corridor leading down below ground. He'd heard Will lock the door. Three sets of locked doors stood between Sinn and freedom. Not counting the handcuffs, nor to whatever place Will was planning to take him. He'd agreed to this. What a damn fool he was. Had he become so needy for someone to make an imprint on him? The first man that made the numbness seem to fade and he drops like a felled tree, or a cow about to be branded. Forced along the shoot, prodded and goaded forward, with no way out, no way back. Will pulled him down another step.
    "Just let me guide you," Will said in that oh-so-seductive voice of his. Soothing Sinn into hell knew what situation. Idiot! He'd said he could take anything. Could he? He'd crawled out of the hog swill, was finally on the music path, and he lets himself be drawn into this situation? What the fuck? Did he have a death wish? Was he afraid of actually succeeding? What had he been thinking?
    He stepped down one more time. Onto flat concrete this time. Will led him toward an old scuffed wooden door. He pulled out an older metal key, unlocked the door, and guided Sinn through it. Another tunnel awaited, the hallway lit by floor track lighting, dim, just enough light to see the mortared walls. Was this part of the tunnel system beneath the city? Sinn had never taken the tours of the tunnels, maybe he should have. He heard Will lock the door behind them. That made four locked doors. Was he ever going to see the light of day again?
    His cock had deflated, why the hell not? This did not arouse him. Well, not that much anyway. But still, the cold, damp air sifted across his limp flesh, across his exposed chest, tightening his nipples. His breaths grew faster, the silk scarf affixed between his lips got wet with his saliva, tasted of limp tasteless cloth. His lips were stretched, drying out. He couldn't wet them.
    They kept walking. Sinn tried to count the steps, but he lost track. Will stopped him. He unlocked another door. It opened onto another set of stairs, this time leading up.
    He grunted, wanted to ask where they were going, but his words were unintelligible. Will guided him up the steps and into another hallway, He locked the door leading down. Five locked doorways. Sinn had no fucking clue how he'd ever find his way out of this place.
    The carpet was charcoal. Indoor/outdoor type. The walls were newly painted what appeared a dark maroon. Lights affixed to the wall were older with a flickering nineteenth century look to them. The doors, although appearing new, were painted black, trimmed in maroon.
    Suddenly, Will reached around and fingered Sinn's flaccid cock.
    "Our little trip didn't arouse you. Are you afraid, Sinn?" Will played with his cock. His warm fingers curled around his flesh. Will pressed his lips to Sinn's neck, licked, and then nipped. "Do you still trust me, Sinn?"
    How could he say yes or no? He was confused. But his cock was responding to Will's ministrations.
    "There you go," Will said. "You respond quickly. I like that." His hand jerked up and down Sinn's semi-aroused prick. "A little more. Give me what I want, Sinn. You want this; you've already told me you do. Show me how you feel. Let me see how bad you want to play."
    His