The Hampton Road Club: Bruce, George & Angelo

Chapter One

"Georgie boy, you were like a prized bull in the ring tonight the way you rutted that boy Isaac over and over." Bruce let out a satisfied sigh as he rolled over in their bed then propped himself up on one elbow. "He has a bit of the sass to him, but a fine specimen nonetheless."

George grunted as he lay on his back, one beefy arm covering his eyes while he relaxed in the afterglow of their enthusiastic fucking. Isaac hadn't been interested in sharing the moment with them and they hadn't encouraged him to stay, either.

"Nah. You're the prized one." George lifted his arm just a bit and peeked up at him with one eye. "And I'm done with that boy. Ain't worth it."

Bruce smirked at his lover then tugged on him. George had gone back to hiding underneath his arm and it had nothing to do with needing to shield his eyes from too much light. They'd been together for almost five years, and he knew damn well when George was being more ornery than usual. George gave another grunt then adjusted his body so he could face him. Bruce planted a firm kiss on his lips and George swiped at his mouth as if it had annoyed him. Ornery cuss all right.

Bruce snorted. "Besides him being a spoiled, whiny brat, whatchya got against the little bastard?"

George's expression still radiated his trademark frown. It accentuated his big, handsome mug and bright hazel eyes crowned by their bushy black brows. His lips were plump and full, even though they'd been marred on one side from a knife fight he'd been in prior to them meeting. And what a meeting that had been. They'd fought each other in the heavyweight class at a boxing ring in Santa Barbara, which was almost a hundred miles north of Los Angeles. It had been declared a draw, so after a bout of name-calling and a drunken challenge, they'd found themselves alone at the gym late at night, punching, wrestling-then fucking each other into the mat. Bruce grinned. And we ain't never looked back.

George's rough-hewn masculine features creased more as his frown deepened. "What? What's got you so jolly? And anyway, don't you think that boy is playin' us for chumps? Cuz I think he knows who we was. Probably figures we got loads of dough stashed away somewhere and we'll be his ticket to the easy life."

Bruce grinned. "Maybe that's cuz we do got loads of dough stashed away."

"That don't mean we gotta shower it on him." George snorted. "He ain't got that nice an ass."

Bruce splayed his fingers across George's hairy chest until he found a nipple. He gave it a hearty twist. George yelped then batted Bruce's hand away with another frown.

He glared at Bruce. "Hey, that's what the men here at the club are for."

"And that Isaac fellow bruises up quite nicely." Bruce kept rubbing George's chest, but didn't pinch him again. He was too exhausted from their rowdy tumble with Isaac to start up a bunch of rough-housing.

George covered his hand with his own, his features finally softening as he gazed back at him. "Like I said, don't mean he's the one we gotta do anything with."

Bruce shook his head. "Don't mean that at all. But I'm wondering if there ain't anyone here for us like we'd hoped. Maybe we should just take what's offered and be glad of it. It ain't like we got lots of options."

George dropped his gaze, but squeezed Bruce's hand. They had each other and genuine love, which was a lot to be grateful for. Truth was, either one of them would die for the other, but it was more understood then spoken of. However, they couldn't answer the need to dominate for each other. They had always shared a submissive boy - hopefully one with a masochistic bent-whenever they could find one.