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The Danish Gunrunner

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“You should get yourself a real man, Sarah,” George said, glancing over at Jack for the first time since he had entered the penthouse apartment thirty minutes ago. Jack looked at Sarah, who still hadn’t taken off her coat but had made herself comfortable on the couch by the window. She had promised him that she wasn’t going to talk for more than two minutes and now it looked like they were going to be stuck there for the rest of the hour.

He wished he could have waited in the car.

“You’re a little old for this candy-ass twink bullshit.” George continued. “Even he knows that.”

“Jack is sympathetic and affectionate and a far better lover than you were.”

George scoffed. “So he lets you cuddle him after you screw. So what?” He downed the rest of his brandy and dragged his eyes along Jack’s body. “You can’t convince me for a second that he wouldn’t want a girl his own age. Which is what? Sixteen? Eighteen?”

“He’s twenty-eight,” Sarah corrected.

“Twenty-eight? Fuck. If you’re gonna lie say twenty-one at most. Nobody’s gonna buy twenty-eight.” His eyes met Jack’s, which had been awkwardly darting around the room. “Or by the looks of him, he doesn’t want a girl at all. How about a man? Someone older and muscular with a big fat cock to shove into his pretty little mouth.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Jack shot back, unable to hide the blush that swept over his cheeks.

“Oh, he can talk then, can’t he?”

Sarah finally stood. “George, that’s enough. You- you called me here because you said you have a job for me. Do you? Or did you just call me up to antagonize me and my boyfriend.”

George smiled at her, but not with his eyes. “Of course. I have a contact who’s waiting for us a few floors down. He’s quite private so… no escorts.”

Jack glared at him. “If that’s the case then why did you tell me to come?”

“I told Sarah to bring you because I wanted to see you face-to-face. To see if you could look me in the eye like a man.”

Sarah took Jack’s arm in hers. “He’ll be working with me in any job I have, George. He’s my driver.”

“He’s already got one lined up for you. Your little toy can stay up here until we come back; unless he wants to scoot his perky little ass down to the car and wait for you like a good boy.”

“Don’t talk to him like th-”

“I’ll stay here,” Jack said, gently pulling his arm out of Sarah’s grip. “I’ll see you soon.”

He turned her in his arms and kissed her. It was long, gentle, handsy, and mostly done to annoy George. When he pulled away he couldn’t help but to look up at her husband’s clearly annoyed expression.

“Nothing for me?” George asked with a toothy smile.

Sarah clicked her tongue impatiently as she walked to the door. “Let’s go, George.”

“I think it’ll do him some good. He’ll learn how to kiss like a real man.”

“Let’s go, George.”

George gave the young man one last look before escorting his wife out of his apartment, leaving Jack alone and fuming. Of course George wasn’t really interested in him. Of course he said that to fluster him. But damn it, it got under his skin more than he thought it could. He walked into the apartment knowing that George would threaten him somehow, but he had anticipated to be threatened with violence.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Jack muttered to himself as he threw his coat onto the couch and made his way to the liquor cabinet.

Jack poured himself a snifter of whiskey and paced around the living room. He came with Sarah thinking that he would stand up for her in case George tried anything. Of course he ended up being ignored and Sarah ended up being the one defending him. And on top of everything he was treated like a piece of meat.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. George and Sarah had only been gone for one minute.

Well, he thought as he scanned the room, as long as I’m here I might as well mess with his stuff.

Of course he couldn’t trash the place. George would probably kill him on sight if he did that. But he could do something subtle. He could look for hidden cubbies and steal whatever George was hiding in there. He could throw books and spare bedsheets down the garbage chute across the hall. He could hide a bit of food from the fridge somewhere so that George wouldn’t find it until it started to rot and attract flies.

Just when Jack started to realize all the horrible ways these plans could backfire and his better nature was about to win him over, he spied something. It was resting on the fireplace mantel, white, long, and cylindrical. It was a phone. A strange new type of phone that was far too large to be considered “mobile” but was a mobile phone nonetheless. If George hadn’t insisted on finishing his phone conversation before talking to Sarah when they came in, Jack wouldn’t have even known that it was a phone at all. Jack picked it up and turned it around in his hands a few times. About eight inches long and not too thick - it almost looked like some kind of dildo.

“Talk about wanting me so much. Fine. Have me. I could use a good jerk-off anyways.”

Jack took the phone and set off to where he assumed the bedroom was.

George’s bedroom was spacious enough for a king-sized bed and a fireplace. Jack tossed the phone onto the mattress and began digging through the dresser and nightstand for some kind of lube. Jack stroked himself through his jeans, believing that if he was going to do this then he might as well enjoy it. He was about to give up and see if there was anything he could use in the kitchen, but he finally found a small bottle beside several unopened condom packets. Jack pocketed a few before he tossed the bottle onto the bed and began stripping down.

“C’mon, dammit,” he muttered as he continued to touch himself, his cock only just starting to respond. “I don’t have all day.”

His clothes fell into a pile on the floor as he climbed onto the bed, naked and stroking himself. He looked at the phone, which almost looked bigger now that he was considering taking it inside himself. The lube rolled towards his leg as the bed dipped under him and Jack let himself sink into soft blankets. He took the bottle into his hands as he bent over and spread his legs enough to expose his entrance to the cool air of the bedroom.

Too late to turn back now, he thought as he slicked up his fingertips and began lightly prodding at his hole.

It felt… good? Strange. Better than he thought it would. He closed his eyes and tried to relax as he pressed a finger deep into himself. Bright blue eyes drifted shut as Jack lightly fucked himself on the single digit. It wasn’t pleasurable as much as it was simply testing the waters. He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth when he accidentally scratched himself while trying to take another finger. He grabbed the phone and groaned with the realization that it was much thicker than he was prepared to take.

Perhaps there was something else that he could equally demoralize George with by fucking himself with it. The neck of a wine bottle? A broom? Dammit, at the rate he was going he probably wouldn’t be able to take more than a pen.

“Fuck it.”

Jack poured a generous amount of lube onto the narrowest end of the phone and lined himself up with it. He backed up against the headboard and tried to press into it. The phone dully pushed against his tight hole but didn’t slip in.

Swearing under his breath, Jack reached behind him and helped guide the strange phone into him. He was almost at the point of accepting that his plan wasn’t going to work when it finally entered his body.

It was thicker than he had thought and blunt and barely inside him at all but it was in. If he moved away from the headboard it would fall out. Panting and beginning to sweat, Jack adjusted it and backed himself into it a fraction of an inch more. He groaned. The phone’s barely noticeable edges suddenly felt sharp now that they were pressed up inside him.

His heart nearly stopped when he heard a knocking at the front door. How long had he been at this? George and Sarah surely couldn’t have been back so early.

“George Maldonado?” called a voice from outside. “Open up, George.”

It was a man’s voice with a heavy Scandinavian accent. Jack looked down at his clothes and then considered himself, naked, bent over, and with a telephone half-in his ass. Maybe whoever it was would just go away.

The knocking had turned into pounding.

“I swear to God, George, you better have my money.”

Jack tried to return to the task at hand. This was George’s problem.

“George! If you don’t let me in right now I’ll break this fucking door down and shoot every single fucking person in your entire fucking apartment!”

Jack immediately removed the phone from his ass and stumbled into his jeans.

“I’ll shoot someone in the middle of taking a shit! I don’t give a fuck!”

Jack’s shirt was still open by the time he got to the door, which was bowing and rattling it was being hit so hard. When he finally pulled open the door the first thing that he saw was the barrel of a pistol pointed directly at his face. The man behind it muscled his way into the apartment and shoved Jack against the nearest wall, not letting his gun drop for an instant.

“Where the fuck is George?” he demanded, pressing the muzzle of the gun against Jack’s forehead.

“I-I-I don’t know!” Jack said, eyes shut tight as he didn’t dare move more than what was absolutely necessary. “He-he went downstairs. He’s talking with someone in another room. I don’t know who! I-I don’t know which room. He’ll... he’ll…” Jack swallowed hard. One of his legs was shaking so violently that he couldn’t put any weight on it. “He’ll be back soon.”

“And who the fuck are you?” the man said, his voice curling around the profanity. “His cocksucking escort? His fake-virgin thousand-dollar fucking whore? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m his wife’s… h-his wife’s…” No. he wouldn’t believe the truth. “I’m his wife’s chauffeur. She told me to wait for her here.”

Jack listened to the man as he panted quietly, trying to catch his breath. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the man for the first time.

He had greasy dark brown hair that fell over his eyes. His clothes were equally filthy and smelled of cigarettes. He had piercing eyes, sharp features, and a dangerous air about him that Jack rarely ever sees even in Sarah’s line of work.

Jack drew in a shaky breath as the other man finally let his gun drop to his side.

“When will he be back?” the man asked.

“I don’t know. He only left about ten minutes ago. I don’t think he’ll be gone for more than an hour.”

Jack gasped as the man grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the wall. The next thing he knew the muzzle of the gun was pressed under his chin and the man was right behind him, breathing against his hair.

“A half-dressed chauffeur waiting alone in a penthouse? I don’t fucking believe it. You aren’t here alone, are you?”

“I-I swear, I’m here alone!”

“You’re fucking lying to me, you cocksucking fuck. Now we’re going to go through this apartment together, you and me. And it better be empty, for your sake.”

The man guided Jack slowly through the apartment, opening doors and pulling open curtains as they went. Step by step they approached the bedroom at the end of the hall and Jack started to panic. They were one door away when he couldn’t stand it any longer and froze, his heart racing and tears forming in his eyes. The man gave him a harsh shove but he didn’t move.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Jack blurted out, his voice shaking slightly as the man tightened his grip on his arm.

“No shit. He’s in the next room isn’t he?”

“No! He really did leave the apartment with Sarah a little while ago. There really is nobody else in this apartment. But I’m not his wife’s driver, I’m her lover.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Please, please!” Jack sobbed, a tear trailing down his cheek as the gun pressed harder against his skin. “I think he had me wait here so you would kill me. Believe me, I hate him as much as you do.”

The man considered this for a long moment before dropping the gun to his side once more. Jack stumbled as he was dragged through the last door and into the bedroom. His undershirt and briefs still lay in a mound on the floor. The comforter was wrinkled and the lube and phone lay in the middle of the bed.

“What the fuck was going on here?”

Jack choked in response, his cheeks flushed a bright red in humiliation. Another tear streaked his face, and then another. Each only adding to an immobilizing shame.

“Wait here,” the man ordered, shoving Jack onto the bed and training his firearm on him again. “Don’t move.”

Jack lay on the bed, face buried in his hands as the other man searched the master bathroom. Whoever this man was probably still thought that he was George’s escort, and that was not going to bode well for him.

“Hey,” the man said, his voice much closer than Jack anticipated. “Are you crying?”

Jack didn’t respond, terrified that in the next few seconds he would hear a gunshot or feel hands tugging off his clothes.

“I asked if you’re fucking crying.”

Breaths uneven, Jack dried his face against the blankets before sitting up, his back against the headboard. The other man’s gun was finally holstered and he was watching Jack intently from the side of the bed. Jack rubbed his eyes and turned his face away.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, bed dipping slightly as he sat down.


“Alight, Jack, what is it you do?”

“I mostly drive Sarah places. She… I let her keep me around and in exchange she agreed to help fund my restaurant.”

“You cook?”

Jack nodded and rubbed his eyes again.

“Fuck, I’m in the restaurant business too. You get up around Sønderborg much?”

“Not really.”

The man took out his gun again but didn’t point it at Jack. Instead he started dismantling it only to immediately put it back together. “Yeah, I have a restaurant to the west of there with a few of my friends. It’s a funny story. We used to all be in this business. Moving firearms and cigarettes. But then Torkild buys this old restaurant out in the country and the next thing I know I’m a cook. I couldn’t even fry an egg when he bought the place and now I’m a cook. But you’re probably better than me if you’re a chef looking for a restaurant.”

“But you’re still moving firearms and cigarettes?” Jack asked as he watched the man pull a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and light it.

“Well… I never said that it was a very good restaurant. I’m doing some gunrunning to help with the bills. The others don’t know I’m out here. I told them that I went to Paris to look for a chef to train me. Hey, what would they say if I came back with a real chef? A chef looking for a restaurant?”

He flashed a smile at Jack and Jack couldn’t help but to smile back. It was so sincere and looked almost out-of-place on such a stern face.

“I, erm…” Jack rubbed his face, still flushed as he was finally starting to calm down. “I never caught your name.”

“Arne. And that was an offer to come back with me. You could have my room until we build more space. Danish food isn’t that hard to learn.”

“No. I… I should stay here. For Sarah.” Jack sighed and turned towards Arne for the first time. “I know I’m… I’m perhaps a bit of an escort, but we are friends. And George isn’t the easiest person to be married to.”

“You’re a… what’s the phrase? Whore with the heart of gold.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but decided against it. He had argued about his title for so long with so many people that he was tired of putting up a fight. Besides, Arne didn’t strike him as someone who would debate over semantics.

“May I ask you a question, Jack?” Arne asked as he took a long drag on his cigarette and picked up the phone. “What the fuck is this and why were you trying to shove it up your ass?”

There was no point in denying that either. “It’s George’s phone.”

“But why were you-”

“-Because I hate him.”

Arne turned the phone around in his hands a few times, inspecting the lubricated end. “It doesn’t look like you got very far.”

“Yeah, well, you came in and I had to stop halfway through.”

“It looks to me like you stopped about a tenth of the way through.” Arne laughed out smoke and set the phone down between them on the bed. “I like that though. Subtle and demoralizing. Knowing that whenever he calls he’s putting his mouth to a whore’s ass. Fuck, I just might try it myself once you’re done. I’d call him all the time.”

Jack’s cheeks grew hot once more. “Stop calling me that. I’ve never… I never set out to sell my body, okay? Sarah is the only person who has offered me money for my company. It’s an agreement we came into by chance, entirely by chance. I’ve never even taken anything up my ass. I couldn’t even get it in there.”

Arne put out his cigarette on the nightstand and examined his gun. “Will you let me help you stuff that phone up your ass in exchange for this? After I finish getting my money from George with it, of course.”

“I’m not for sale and I’m not gay.”

“This is a Desert Eagle .50 caliber. Easily worth over two-thousand Euro. At that point it’s not even gay, it’s just a good financial decision.” He smiled and shifted himself to face Jack in bed. “C’mon, you said it yourself that you wanted to fuck with George but you couldn’t do it by yourself. Well, here’s your chance. I’m not judging you, Jack, I think it’s a great idea. I wish I would have thought of it myself. And I’ll do it once you’re done.”

Jack lightly traced the edge of the phone with his fingertips. Arne was crude and had a hell of a temper, but he did seem sincere. Two-thousand Euro would cover any number of things that could bring his restaurant just that much closer to being operational. Or he could just keep it. God knows he needs the extra protection with the sort of people Sarah meets with.

“Fine,” Jack said as he handed Arne the lube and started unbuttoning his jeans. “But just the phone, got it?”

“Of course. Of course.”

The rest of Jack’s clothes fell to the floor along with Arne’s gun and jacket. Jack lay on his stomach and clutched the pillows close to him as Arne knelt beside him. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into soft fabric as he felt a calloused hand caress his back and trail down along the cleft of his ass.

“Is the foreplay strictly necessary?” Jack mumbled into the pillow.

“If you want this to work you need to relax.”

Jack bit his lip as his legs were spread wide and his entrance was exposed once again. Arne lightly prodded at him with the pad of his finger, only just teasing the rim of his tight hole. Another hand caressing his thigh, Arne continued circling Jack and only barely penetrating him.

“Arne? Could you-”

“It’ll hurt if I rush it.”

 “I don’t know when Sarah and George will be back.”

Arne laughed, short and sharp. “Like you wouldn’t love them to see you in the middle of taking this thing. Nearly every inch of it shoved up your ass. Are you vocal? I bet you’ll beg. Your head thrown back and cock rock hard. I’ll shoot George in the dick if he says anything.”

Jack’s breath hitched as cold lube was pumped onto his entrance. His grip on the pillow tightened as Arne immediately shoved two fingers into him. They pulled back slightly only to sink back in, spreading and stretching him open. Jack closed his eyes, wondering how many times Arne had done this before.

“You’re fucking tight.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a loud, low moan. He hid his face in the pillow again, muffling another groan as he pressed back against Arne’s hand. This didn’t feel remotely like it did when he was stretching himself. Every movement was unanticipated, new, and almost forceful with how unexplored he was.

He was on his knees now – back arched and legs spread.  A rough hand gripped Jack’s hip as Arne pressed his fingers in deeper, pressing and stroking him. His cock was hard but Jack refused to pleasure himself. He tried not to think of what Arne must feel like when he’s buried up to the hilt inside of him, their bodies are flush together. How he imagined Arne would pin him to the mattress and growl a string of expletives against his blushing shoulders.

There was the sound of a zipper being undone and all the images of Jack’s fantasies dissolved in the afternoon light of the bedroom.

“No!” Jack gasped, pulling himself away from Arne and backing up against the headboard again. He looked back and saw the Danish gunrunner sitting in the middle of the bed, watching him with thick, uncut cock in hand.

Jack shook his head and tried to cover his own arousal. “Don’t. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Arne said, his voice calmer than Jack imagined it could be. “I wouldn’t. I’m a man of my word, Jack. Just… you were so beautiful that not touching myself over you was becoming impossible. I’ve never heard anyone… surrender the way you did.”

Jack eased himself away from the headboard. “Just the phone.”

“Although, I was about to ask your permission to do something.”

“What? You want me to suck you off or something?”

“N- well, yes. But that’s not what I was going to ask you,” Arne said as he watched Jack turn around and cling to the pillows again. “I wanted to know if you would let me loosen you another way.”

“With your dick?”

“With my mouth.”   

“No. I’m not into that.”

“Please,” Arne insisted, gently stroking along Jack’s thigh once more. “I’ve been told I’m very good at this.”

“Okay, fin- wait.” Jack turned around and sat against the headboard. Arne had moved closer, eyes dark as he stroked himself. “Kiss me first.”

Arne breathed out a laugh, sharper and higher pitched than Jack anticipated. But all the same he moved in, climbing on top of Jack’s lap and cradling the back of his head in his hand. For an instant Jack regretted this decision, not sure how he forgot the heavy scent of cigarettes on the man. Before he could protest again, Arne leaned down and closed his mouth over Jack’s. He tasted smoke. He also tasted an incredible warmth. Stubble scratched against Jack’s clean-shaven face and long fingers laced into the curls of his hair as Jack melted into Arne’s touch. When Arne finally pulled away Jack dragged him down into another kiss, deeper this time. Arne’s arousal dug into Jack’s thigh as he shoved him down onto the mattress once more.

Jack gasped as Arne broke the kiss, gripped him by the shoulders, and turned him around. Arne was on top of him, kissing and nipping at his neck. Lips and teeth trailed down Jack’s back, stopping to bite possessively at his ass. Jack moaned in pain and protest for only an instant before Arne spread Jack’s legs and exposed his lightly lubricated hole.

There was no moment of anticipation. Arne immediately buried his face against Jack and pressed his tongue against his warm entrance. Jack gasped and instantly flushed a bright red. Arne licked and prodded him while he reached down and stroked himself. The once subdued moans of the bedroom turned filthy as Jack slowly gave in to Arne’s passionate assault. He had been with a fair number of people before, but nothing had ever felt so intimate. So possessive.

He cried out as Arne slipped in a finger and began stroking him. It turned slowly in him, prodding and loosening with each passing moment. Suddenly a jolt of intense pleasure shot through Jack, pulling a helpless cry out of him. Arne caressed the same place again and Jack nearly sobbed with desire, his cock leaking pre-cum.

Arne pulled back and laughed again, soft as his eyes raked along Jack’s body. “You say you aren’t, but you sure do moan like a whore.”

“Arne, please. Just…”

Arne stopped stroking himself to pick up the phone. He slicked up one end of it and dragged it along the cleft of Jack’s ass.

“You’re a little slut,” Arne said as he lined the phone up with Jack’s hole. “I like that about you.”

“I’m not a- oh God! Fuck.”

The phone slipped in easier and deeper than he thought it would. It filled him as Arne pressed it into Jack’s core. It slipped so far into him that a deep, trembling groan was involuntarily forced out of his throat. Jack reached down and finally took his cock into his hand, lightly spreading pre-cum across the head and along his shaft.

“Like that?” Arne crooned as he lightly fucked Jack with the phone. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Jack moaned again rubbing his face against the pillow.

“Even better when you’re bent over getting your ass fucked open.”

Jack arched his back and pressed back against the phone, trying to take it deeper. He bit his lip and tried to hold back every helpless sound that could come out of him. Arne’s accent was as overpowering and rough as he was and hearing him speak now was too much

“Arne! I’m gonna-”

Jack’s voice was stopped short as Arne groped him roughly. His hand was warm and still slick with lube.

“No you’re not,” Arne said, his grip tight. “We just got started.”

Jack cried out as the phone inched further into him, stretching his body in ways he had never experienced before. Arne pulled it out halfway before driving it back in again. Unintelligible words spilled out of Jack’s mouth as he cried out into the pillow. He tried to thrust into Arne’s hand and back into the phone at the same time. Another cry filled the room as Arne flipped him over and the phone shifted inside him.

“Let me suck your cock,” Arne said, stroking him.

Jack only nodded, not having the energy to feign disinterest any longer. He moaned as a warm, wet mouth suddenly enveloped him. Rough hands gripped Jack’s hips, holding him down as Arne tried to swallow down as much of him as he could. Hands shaking, Jack tried to reach down and guide Arne’s head against him. As soon as his fingertips brushed against unwashed hair Arne grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress.

Jack gasped as Arne’s tongue ran along his length and he sucked on his leaking tip. Every once in a while Jack’s breath would hitch as Arne’s strangely sharp teeth brushed against sensitive skin. His tongue was teasing and Jack was so overcome with desire that he could barely move for fear of coming down Arne’s throat.

Suddenly, there was a strange reverberation that trembled inside him. Jack cried out in pleasure and tightened his grip on the sheets.  His cheeks stung with newfound humiliation when he then heard the distinct but muffled sound of a phone ringing. Arne choked on his cock before pulling away and sitting back on his heels, laughing. Jack moaned again as the phone vibrated before ringing once more. Arne laughed harder.

Jack bit at his lip as the bed shifted and it moved inside him again. “Should we answer it?”

“No. What the fuck would we even say?”

“It could be one of them call-ing,” Jack said, his voice catching mid-word as the phone rang. “They could be expecting me to pick up.”

“‘Hello, welcome to Jack’s asshole. How may we help you today?’”

“Stop laughing! What if there’s a button and I answer it accidentally?”

Arne laughed again.

“It’s n-not funny! Fuck.”

“Don’t worry, whoever’s calling will give up eventually,” Arne said. Jack whined in his throat as Arne gripped and stroked his cock again. “Let go. I want to see you come anyways.”

Arne lay beside Jack, kissing along his jaw as he reached down and pumped him – his cock still slick from his mouth. It only took a moment before Jack unraveled, letting go of the last of his control. He threw back his head as he came onto his chest and stomach, biting his lip to keep from crying out. The phone rang one last time as Jack arched his back and spilled the last of himself onto Arne’s hand.

“Fuck,” Jack murmured, closing his eyes and nuzzling the side of his face against Arne.

“Yeah, fuck,” Arne echoed, kissing Jack’s temple and tracing his fingers along the warm, sticky trail he left on his chest. “Wanna go clean up while I take my turn on that thing?”

“Gimme a minute.”

Arne hummed in agreement and brushed his hand against hard and sensitive nipples. Jack gasped at the touch and looked up at Arne through his post-orgasmic haze. He watched as Arne took cum-coated fingertips into his mouth and sucked them clean. In one movement Arne climbed on top of Jack and kissed him deeply. Jack didn’t move to protest as he tasted himself on Arne’s tongue. A rough hand ran down Jack’s chest again and fingers were brought to his mouth.

“Suck,” Arne said, eyes dark and voice commanding.

Jack obeyed, sinking into the blankets and tasting himself on Arne’s fingers. His eyes fluttered closed as Arne kissed down his chest and slowly pulled the phone out of him. He grunted around Arne’s fingers as excess lube spilled out of him and he shifted his hips, overcome with the realization of how loose he was.

“Now clean up.” Arne said before he kissed him once more and set the phone in his hands. “This first.”

Jack nodded, climbed off the bed, and carefully stepped into the master bathroom. With each movement he was acutely aware of how much lubricant had been in him and had coated his thighs. He glanced back at the bed and watched as Arne stripped out of his pants and lit another cigarette.

The phone didn’t take long to clean, the two men silent as Jack passed it back into the bedroom and shut the door between them. Jack stood in front of the sink, washing himself off and glancing to the door. He wasn’t sure if Arne wanted him to watch or not. There was something about him that Jack found undeniably attractive. There was a certain playfulness, a certain affection that rested right below a stern exterior. The more he thought about it, the more appealing Arne’s proposal was. Why shouldn’t he go to Denmark? Sarah would certainly be able to find a place to live, isolated and away from her work.

Jack washed his face as he imagined Arne walking him into his own bedroom. It would be small. Dirty. Littered with pizza boxes, firearms, and used condoms. The bed would creak as they would sit on it together, lightly tugging at clothing and pawing at each other even though they said that they wouldn’t. And then later they would find themselves in the kitchen, Jack teaching him how to carve chickens and bake bread. Arne’s large, heavy hands – kneading and lost in white dough.  

The vision faded as Jack heard a soft but deep moan from the bedroom followed by an impressive collection of what Jack could only assume to be Danish expletives. He swallowed hard before he dried his face and quietly opened the door. It only needed to be opened a few degrees. Just to have a look at him.

Arne lay on his back wearing only his tank top. One hand pumped his cock while the other traced the muzzle of his gun along his thigh. His breaths were short, but heavy as he arched his back, and drove the phone in deeper with the heel of his foot. Lost in sensation, Arne lifted the gun and ran his tongue along the barrel.

Jack gripped at the door frame, remembering how Arne’s mouth felt as it sucked along his length. He closed his eyes and palmed himself as he started to get hard again. Wanting and with a stirring arousal, Jack stood silently in the bathroom and debated with himself about how long he should watch before closing the door.


His eyes shot open and he saw Arne watching him from the bed.

“Would you like to join me?” Arne asked, studying the sliver of Jack visible through the door. When Jack didn’t respond, Arne pressed on. “Would you like to ride me?”


“Come here.”

Jack opened the door and walked straight to the dresser to retrieve a condom. It was nearly impossible for him to refuse an offer at this point. At this rate, his overactive libido was more likely to get him killed than his connection with Sarah. Jack didn’t even take the time to give him a coquettish glance before opening the condom packet and rolling it onto Arne’s length.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Arne said as he slicked himself up and guided Jack on top of him. “I don’t believe you when you say you’ve never done this before.”

Jack groaned as he impaled himself on Arne. It wasn’t like the cold and rigid phone he had taken earlier. This easily slipped in deeper than he thought it could. It was warm and filled him in ways the phone couldn’t. Arne thrust up into him and Jack gasped and threw his head back in bliss, arching his back and trying to take as much as he could.


He looked down as he felt the cold metal of the gun against his thigh.

“Do you mind if we use this?” Arne said, lightly rubbing the stock of the Desert Eagle against him. “It doesn’t have to be much.”

“Is that thing loaded?”

“Yes, but I have the safety on. Look.”

Arne let go of Jack and held out his left arm. He pressed the muzzle of the gun against his forearm and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

“I won’t have my finger on the trigger anyways.”

“Sure. Just don’t point it at my face.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“That’s the first thing you did when you saw me.”

“This is different.”

Jack nodded and drew in a sharp breath through his teeth as Arne traced the gun down his stomach. Thrusts were slow and erratic as Arne tried to adjust to the phone stuffed inside of him. Jack placed his hand on Arne’s chest as he rode him. He watched as Arne again ran his tongue down the barrel of the gun. Arne looked up at him, their eyes locked as he thrust in deep.

“You want to?” Arne asked, lifting the handgun slightly in offering.

Jack swallowed hard before he kissed and licked down the length of the barrel. There was a soft and helpless moan under him as Arne watched. He could taste Arne’s mouth on the warm, wet trail he had left. It was strange realizing that Arne’s taste was instantly recognizable. Even lingering under the metallic, as if they had been kissing one another for years.

“God, you’re perfect,” Arne said softly as he watched Jack’s mouth move along the barrel. “Take… take this fucking phone out of me. I need to do something with you.”

Jack reached back and pulled the phone out of Arne’s tight hole, making him groan and arch his back at the strange sensation. Arne took the phone from Jack, threw it towards the bathroom door, and sat up, dragging Jack to the headboard with him. Jack cried out when Arne shifted inside of him, adjusting their bodies to fit together in their new position – Arne sitting up and Jack riding him, their chests pressed together and Jack’s cock rubbing between them.

“Come back with me,” Arne murmured as he nuzzled against Jack’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. “The restaurant has this forest around it. And the sea. It’s beautiful. We can hunt and cook. And I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you from people like George. I swear. I…”

Jack turned his head and caught Arne’s mouth in his. Strong hands laced into the curls of his hair and held him in place as they deepened the kiss once more. Arne dragged the gun along Jack’s back as he leaned down to suck a mark onto Jack’s shoulder.

For an instant, Jack saw himself in Sarah’s bedroom. He saw her expression when he took off his shirt and the mark was made visible to her for the first time. He heard her frustrated cries and felt his own face grow hot with shame and anger. He saw all this, but only for an instant. As soon as he was about to protest, Arne shifted them again and instead he cried out in pleasure.

The two men falling into a rhythm, Jack slipped his hands under Arne’s tank top and caressed warm skin. Arne’s back was covered with scars and whenever Jack touched one Arne arched away from his hands.

“Don’t,” he said, reaching down and grasping Jack by the hips to guide him on his cock. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack muttered against Arne’s lips, kissing him again as he removed his hands from under Arne’s shirt. He draped his arms over Arne’s shoulders and ran his fingers over unwashed hair instead. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Arne repeated, mouth against Jack’s jaw and thrusts growing erratic. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Jack gasped as Arne reached down and pumped him. He was already leaking pre-cum onto his stomach and Arne was brushing against his prostate, making him moan with need. Desperate for more, Jack gripped at his shoulders and rode him hard. The bed creaked and the headboard slammed against the wall with their movements. Arne breathed heavily against his neck and the din of skin against skin grew louder and filthier.

For the first time, Jack allowed himself to be loud. He needed to hear himself, to hear the intensity of this need, to completely succumb to sensation and desire. Arne licked along the barrel of the gun again and watched as Jack fucked himself on his cock. The sounds coming out of Jack’s throat were obscene as Arne brought him to the extreme verge.

When he came, he came hard. Already shaken by the first orgasm, this one was needy, desperate, and savage. His cries filled the apartment as Arne continued to thrust deep into him. Blood rushed in his ears and he saw white as he succumbed, but he was able to hear the faint but distinct sound of the bedroom door opening.

A gunshot.

His ears were ringing as Arne yelled something in Danish. Jack turned and saw a section of the doorframe splintered and blown off. There was no blood.


“George came back,” he said simply before shoving Jack onto the mattress.

He thrust into him, fast and hard. Jack’s knees were pushed up to his chest as Arne pounded into his spent body. He moaned softly with each movement, his heart racing. It almost surprised him when Arne bent down and kissed him, groaning into his mouth as he rode out his orgasm. Kisses trailed across his jaw and down his neck as Arne slowed his pace and pulled out.

“I’ll deal with George,” Arne said as he got off the bed. “Where’s the phone? You need to clean it off and put it back where you found it.”

“Was it just George at the door?”

“Fuck, you got your soup on my shirt.”



“Was it just George at the door?”

Arne shrugged as he took of his condom, tied it off, and set it on the bed. “He was the only one I saw. I didn’t hear anyone else after I gave the warning shot.”

Jack nodded as Arne pulled his clothes back on.

“I’ll stall him while you get dressed,” Arne said, picking up his gun again. He glanced back at Jack. He hadn’t moved since the gunshot and his eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular. “Hey. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Jack answered as he sat up and scooted to the side of the bed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I won’t leave you alone with him. Even after I give you the gun. Okay?”

Jack nodded. It was all Arne needed to know before he was out the door.

Jack sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he slowly stood. He thought about George and Sarah. And Arne. He thought about the art smuggling and the getaway driving and the promise of a restaurant always a year away. He thought of his kitchen. He thought of Arne. He thought of a quiet building in Denmark, surrounded by trees and a short walk from the vast waters of the sea. He thought of a place so far removed from the life he had grown accustomed to. He thought of the life that he had always wanted. And he thought of Arne.

I need to clean up now, he thought to himself.

There is a time to clean. And there is a time to look at everything that holds your life together and think – and know – “something’s gotta give.”



“Where the fuck have you been?”

George froze in front of the gun cabinet hidden behind the bar. The muzzle of Arne’s gun pressed into the back of his neck as he was pulled away.

“I told you when I would be here, George,” Arne said, turning George to face him and holding the gun under his chin.

“And I see that you have made yourself comfortable with Sarah’s boy. He’s a pretty little thing, isn’t he?”

“You owe me half a million Krone.”

“Now hold on,” George said, only half-regarding the firearm pressed to his skin. “You’ve been very rude, Arne. You came in to my apartment, ruined my sheets, shot up the woodwork, and nearly blew my head off already.”

“You don’t have the fucking money, do you? Did you think I would let you just take half my entire fucking arsenal?”

“Calm down. I do have the money.” George smiled. “But let’s chat. I think we have plenty to talk about.”

“You’re running away from this.”

“I’m not running. Do you see me running?”

George winced as Arne pressed the muzzle of the gun deep enough into his flesh to leave a bruise.

“I just think,” George continued, “that we can work out a deal, you and I.”

“We already have a deal.”

“That man you work for. Torkild? I wonder if he knows about your… interests?”

“I work for myself now.”

“I see.” George cleared his throat and pulled away from Arne, only to get shoved against a nearby wall. “But it would be rather unfortunate if you wanted to do business with, say, Walter Shrenger. I’m not sure if he would be interested in paying top-dollar to someone who… does what you do. And you do charge top-dollar. Emphasis on the ‘top,’ apparently.”

“Are you seriously trying to blackmail me?”

“I just think we can come to some sort of agreement.”

Arne glanced up as he heard footsteps from the hallway to the bedroom. Before George had a chance to say another word, Arne grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the living room and out onto the porch.

“Jack thinks that you left him here because you thought I would kill him.”

“Would you? Is that why you brought me out here? Because I’m ready to start talking numbers.”

“I’m not your fucking assassin.”

George scoffed as he leaned on the balcony railing, looking out over the city.

Arne pressed the gun against George’s gut. “And I’m not someone who enjoys being used.”

“Jack, apparently, is.”

“Leave him alone, George,” Arne said, his voice low. “He’s not like you. He’s not like me. He’s not a part of this. Now, Sarah may not help him get out, but I will.”

“My God, you’re as bad as she is,” George said, rolling his eyes. “Look, I know he has a pretty face and I’m sure he’s a good lay, but come on. Let me guess: he tried to convince you to invest in his restaurant. He tries to be humble, but he always accepts the money. Sometimes a little too quickly.”

Arne didn’t move, staring George down as he became aware of the weight of the gun in his hand. 2000 Euro, he had told him. And that was all Jack needed. It was such a sudden change at the time but he didn’t notice it until now.

He didn’t want to notice anything.

“I’ve seen him do it before,” George said. “He pouts and flirts and puts on this whole act. I’ve seen grown men and women pull out their checkbooks as soon as he batted his eyelashes at them. He’s a con-artist, Arne. I doubt he even knows how to boil an egg.”

“Do you or don’t you have my fucking money?”

“Ah, so he was for sale. How much? What’s his standard rate nowadays?”


“Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I can pay you 300,000 Krone now. The rest is tied up in a job but I should be able to get it to you by the end of the month at the latest.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Well, what do you fucking want from me? I know I’m doing alright for myself, but I can’t just pull 26,000 Euro out of my ass. I’d need another month to land you that. Okay, how about this. I know a few guys who would be overjoyed to hear that you’re back in business. I mean it, you always had the best and nobody knows firearms better than you. I’m sure you have your contacts, but you’ve been out of the loop for so long that most are probably dead. I’ll contact a few, save you the time, and then I’ll make up the difference.”

George shoved past him into the living room. He barely regarded Jack, who quietly leaned against the kitchen entrance.

“Where’s Sarah?” Jack asked.

“She’ll be back in a minute. I’d say ‘keep your pants on’ but I think you’ve already gotten a bit ahead of yourself in that respect.”

Arne walked in and followed George to the safe, watching as he counted out what he had.

“I’m not back in,” Arne said as he inspected the gun. “This is a one-time offer.”

“Sure you’re not,” George said as he picked a briefcase off the floor and began filling it with cash. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow once I have a few names.”

“No, I’ll wait.”

Arne took the money and joined Jack in the corner. They both watched in silence as George rifled through his desk drawers, took out a few business cards, picked the phone off the mantel, and began making his calls.

“I don’t think he knows,” Jack said, watching as George paced before the fireplace, phone in his hand.

“He has no idea.”

Arne glanced over at Jack, leaning against the wall. He looked tired but content, his hair slightly mussed and a soft blush just barely visible on his cheeks.

“I want to see your restaurant,” Jack said as he continued to watch George. “If Sarah’s job takes her to Berlin or New York, I’ll head up towards Sønderborg.”

Arne sighed as he rested against the wall. Jack was a stranger to him. A beautiful stranger with an explicitly tempting mouth. He was the sort of person who would end up at Blinkende Lyger. The sort of person who could stand before a stovetop, stirring quietly and not even realizing that he was watching his former life melt away.

Arne fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out two cigarettes, offering one to Jack. Jack smiled as he took it into his lips, letting Arne light it. Arne lit his own and relaxed against the wall. It was clear that Jack didn’t smoke, but Arne was flattered that the gesture was accepted anyways.

Con-artist or not, Arne thought as he watched Jack blow smoke into the air, he wanted Jack with him. He wanted to see who he would become when he stepped into the quiet restaurant. That place Arne loved. That place about a thousand kilometers away in the quiet Danish countryside.