Author's disclaimer: I don't own them; I just do wicked things to them. (eg)

Author's notes: I apologize for the crummy formatting. I've done everything short of shooting the computer to fix it. Hope it doesn't detract from your enjoyment! :-)

A Work of Desire

By

Angelise

Copyright January 30, 2001

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"Mr. . . . uh . . . Mr. Ellison? Do you understand the particulars of this job?

"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me how much it's gonna pay."

The young assistant raised her eyebrows.

You certainly are a polite young man."

An answer was growled.

"I didn't think politeness was a requirement."

The woman shook her head.

Picking up the 18-year-old's application, the tall redhead excused herself. She disappeared into a room down the hall and upon entering, addressed its lone occupant.

"Well?"

A large hand reached out and clicked off the wireless speaker system.

"Little on the rude side, it seems."

Dawn blew an errant bang out of her eyes and sat on the edge of the large desk occupying the room.

"Rude? Let's not leave out disrespectful, hostile AND arrogant."

A deep booming laugh spread across the room.

"Enough about his shining personality. Describe him to me."

The redhead reached over and grabbed her employer's glasses. Misting both lenses with her breath, she snagged a nearby handkerchief and carefully cleaned them.

"Oh he's exactly what you want, Simon. Tall, lean. Not an ounce of fat anywhere. And muscles. <sigh> Muscles to die for."

Dawn placed the clean glasses within her employer's reach.

"Big hands, big feet, big . . ."

"Dawn!"

The young woman laughed."

"Like I wasn't suppose to check out that attribute? I'm only doing my job, Simon."

A warm smile was offered.

"And that's why you love it. Anything else? Does he understand what he's getting into?"

"He says he does. Ummm . . . "

Simon reached down and petted the young golden lab at his feet.

"What is it? What's bothering you?"

Dawn tapped the front of her teeth with her pen.

"Are you sure you want to work with applicants like him? Arrogant, full of shit, teenagers?"

The redhead leaned over and patted the large man on the shoulder.

"I don't want you to lose yourself again, Simon. James is one fine specimen of manhood and he could break your heart."

Simon took a deep breath and ordered his body to calm the sudden tenseness in his groin.

"I love you, Dawn and your concern touches me. But I'm really interested in this boy. There's something there. I can't put my finger on it but it's there."

Simon rubbed his eyes and smiled up at his assistant.

"I think I want to take him on. Is that okay with you?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Simon. Personally I like mine a little older and a little more on the soft, curvy side."

The forty five-year-old chuckled and attempted to swat Dawn's behind as she jumped down off his desk.

"And just how is Sharrie?"

Dawn licked her lips and gazed dreamily into the distance.

"Absolutely delicious."

Shaking her head to clear the lustful images from her mind, the young woman walked toward the door. She stopped and watched as her employer stood up and moved over to a hidden panel in the far wall.

"Do you want him to start today?"

A rustle of huskiness whispered back to her.

"Oh yes. The sooner, the better. My . . . mind . . . needs a little workout."

Dawn shot back a very unlady-like snort.

"Well if you're going to be busy with Mr. Ellison, I'm going to take a very long lunch break and go work my mind."

Laughter echoed back.

"Give Sharrie my love."

"Yours, mine. And a whole lot more. See you later, Simon."

The redhead returned to her office and found the teenager lounging back in his chair with his feet propped up on her desk. She slapped the boy's long legs off and moved to sit down.

"Mr. Banks would like for you to start today. Is that a problem, Mr. Ellison?"

"No. When do I get paid?"

Dawn offered the tall teenager a pen and pushed forward the typed contract. She watched as the youth lazily scrawled his signature across the bottom of the document.

"You get paid at the end of each week. By signing this contract, you are agreeing to work with Mr. Banks until he no longer needs your services. And normally, that could be anywhere from 4-6 weeks. Do you understand, Mr. Ellison? By the way, do you like to be called James or Jim?"

The darkly tanned teenager leaned forward and offered Dawn a tight smile.

"Call me James. And yes, for the hundredth fucking time, I UNDERSTAND!"

James stood and stretched, revealing a flat, well-defined set of abs. Dawn lowered her eyes and wiggled a little in her chair.

With a smug look on his face, the teenager curled his fingers in the loops of his worn jeans and pulled them down slightly, giving the woman a peek at the dark arrow of hair on his lower abdomen.

"When do I get to meet the World Famous Mr. Simon Banks?"

Dawn stood and motioned the young man out of the office. She escorted him down the hallway to a stairwell. Turning on the light, she pointed upwards.

"Mr. Banks is waiting for you now. Take the first door on the right and you will find him. Hope you enjoy your stay with us, James."

The teenager grunted and loped up the stairs. Throwing open the indicated door, James stepped inside a large studio. The room was mostly hidden in shadows. The youth could make out several large crates stacked against the walls as he moved further into the room.

A voice of black velvet, dark and soft greeted him, sliding over his skin like a caress.

"Welcome, Mr. Ellison."

James stumbled at the sound of that voice, his bravado slipping just a little.

"Uh . . . hi. And my name is James, not Mr. Ellison. That's my father."

The last words were venomously spit out. The darkness ignored his sarcasm.

"Come closer James. Take a seat on that stool."

A dim light came on, giving the teenager direction. He slid onto his assigned perch and continued looking around. A shadow moved and James identified the shape of a sleeping dog.

"Tell me about yourself."

James twisted his head back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of the man he would be working for.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about school. Are you a good student?

"I do okay."

"Do you like sports?"

"Football. We took state champions this year."

"A grand accomplishment considering the competition."

A match struck and flared briefly, giving James a chance to locate his shadow employer.

"Yeah. It was a tough season."

"Any girlfriends?"

A warm breeze whispered over James' lean form, a ghostly touch that made his blood travel south. The teenager widened the spread of his legs, giving room to his disobedient flesh.

"Girlfriends? Nah. Don't like 'em."

A finger trailed down his back and brushed lightly beneath the waistband of his jeans. James circled around but the man was gone.

"Boyfriends?"

The young man popped the snap on his jeans and eased the zipper down a tad. His erection was screaming for attention but James refused to touch himself.

"Boyfriend, James. Do you have one?"

"Uh . . . no. Fuck buddy, yes. Boyfriend, no."

"Do you want one?"

A large hand slid inside James' jeans and cupped his ass. The startled teenager whipped around and nearly fell off his stool when he came face to face with his employer.

A very tall, very large black man stood before him, casually dressed in gray slacks and a loose fitting emerald green shirt. Dark shades hid the man's eyes but did nothing to detract from the wide welcoming smile that graced his handsome features.

A hand reached out toward the teenager.

"Welcome, James. I hope you'll enjoy working with me."

James gripped the man's hand tight and shook it. He looked down and was caught by the contrasting colors of their skin. A quiet gasp escaped him as the older man's fingers stroked across the flesh of his inner wrist. The subtle touch added fuel to the growing fire in his groin.

"Shall we get to work, young James?"

The teenager abruptly pulled his hand away, brushing it against the bulge between his legs. He watched a smile drift across the black man's face.

"You're blind, aren't you?"

Taking his seat on a stool directly to the side of James, the older man laughed.

"I think the politically correct term is visually impaired."

Simon reached forward and skimmed his fingers over James' face, tracing the high forehead, the straight nose, the strong jaw.

"Are you ready to start work?"

"Yeah."

The black man pointed toward a corner of the room.

"There's a screen over there you can . . ."

James shrugged out of his football jersey and dropped in on the floor.

"I'm not a fucking virgin."

He slipped off his tennis shoes and socks. With a flick of his wrist, James' jeans slid down his muscular thighs to pool at his feet. He stepped out of them and kicked the well-worn denim to the side.

"Where do you want me?"

Simon turned around on his stool and removed a cover from the large item on the table in front of him. Revealed was the rudimentary shape of a human body carved in clay.

"Come stand beside me, James."

The teenager moved closer to the black man, his flesh absorbing the heat that rolled off the blind artist. He glanced down at Simon's large hands and immediately his cock took an increasing interest. James adjusted his stance, giving the heaviness of his balls room to swing freely.

"I'm ready."

Simon reached out with his hands and cupped James' face. His fingers drifted down his throat, across his broad shoulders. They tested the size of his upper arms, tracing the definition of each muscle. His touch skimmed over James' fingers, intertwining them with his own.

James sucked in a breath as the black man brought their hands up to his mouth and tasted each finger. He felt a dribble of moisture and looked down to find his cock hard and leaking.

"Shit!"

Simon smiled and took a long lick over the boy's right palm. Releasing his hands, the man turned to his sculpture, allowing the young man time to regain some of his control.

James watched in fascination as Simon's hands moved over the clay, shaping and molding. He moved closer to the man, his naked body brushing against the artist's side.

Simon tilted his head, listening to the teenager's heavy breathing. He shifted his weight off the stool, resting only his butt on the small wooden seat. One hand deserted its work and disappeared under his shirt, the imperceptible sound of a zipper opening barely teasing the silence.

James grinned widely when he realized the effect his nearness was having on the blind man. He moved even closer and pressed his erection against Simon's leg, slightly humping the man's thigh.

"You like that, don't you? Gotcha fucking hard, I bet."

Simon ignored the taunt and pulled the boy between his outspread legs, James' back fitting against his chest.

"Put your arms behind my head."

James did as the man requested, the move leaving his front wide open for touching. He stood there, his ass firmly housed in the cradle of Simon's groin. A rod of iron was testing the crack between his asscheeks. The teenager shifted slightly and allowed the man's clothed cock to slip in just slightly.

Simon bit off a groan, filling his mouth with a bite of James' neck. He tenderly chewed on the boy's flesh as his hands moved across the clay statue.

"FUCK!"

Simon paused, his lips whispering over James' throat, checking for injury.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No. You didn't hurt me."

James shuddered; his body was incinerating and the man hadn't really touched him yet. What the hell was he doing? James shook his head. Whatever it was, he wanted it. Wanted hot, hard and now.

The black artist licked over the bruised area.

"Then why the protest?"

"Look at my dick and you'll see why!"

James instantly realized the error of his words and cursed out loud.

"Shit! I didn't . . . I mean . . . oh fuck it!"

James thrust his ass against Simon's groin and moaned. He leaned his head back and did some of his own marking, biting into the dark flesh of the blind man's jaw.

"My damn dick could drill a hole in the floor, it's so fucking hard. I'm sure it's ready for a little action."

Simon chuckled and resumed his work, ignoring the boy's blatant offer. He continued sculpting for about an hour, enjoying the warmth and the weight of the boy's body in his arms. He smiled as he felt James relax, his respirations evening out, fading into soft snores.

Nuzzling the boy's neck, Simon wiped his hands clean and lightly rested them on James' thighs. He slid his fingers over the fine dusting of hair, measuring the breadth and width of the boy's athletic legs.

The older man bypassed James' sleepy erection and concentrated on sketching in his mind the image of his upper torso. With a slow precise touch, Simon trailed his fingers over the flat planes of James' abdomen, following the carved outline of each muscle.

His hand eased upward, stroking over the base of the boy's sternum before spreading out over the solidity of his pectorals. A drowsy growl greeted his foray but James quickly slipped back into sleep.

Simon rested his hands over the teenager's nipples, allowing the pliant nubs to graze his palms. He then curled his fingers and scraped his nails across the responsive flesh. A tremor snaked across James' chest and Simon followed it with his hands.

A deep breath warned the black artist that his model was waking from his slumber. Surprise rushed through Simon's mind when the teenager captured his hands. James held them while he rolled his head back and forth, the softness of his hair caressing the side of Simon's throat.

The football player murmured his need and released the grip he had on the blind man's hands. Reaching behind his back, James coaxed Simon to stand. The artist's pants were pushed down, freeing a large, rigid cock. Pulling the cheeks of his ass apart, the boy snagged Simon's erection and trapped it in place.

Simon laughed at James' bold move. A second later his amusement disintegrated into strangled moans as the youth flexed his butt muscles.

"FUCK!"

James reclaimed Simon's hands.

"My thought exactly."

The youth guided the artist's hands down his body, refusing to allow them to linger. He spread their fingers apart and slid them into the heavy forest of curls that surrounded the solid column of his flesh.

"It's time, Mr. Banks."

The black man turned his head and sought out James' mouth, devouring the boy's words. His kiss scorned the need for tenderness and attacked, his tongue fighting James' for dominance. Simon pulled on the boy's pubic hairs and swallowed the resulting scream.

James' hoarse cry broke through the haze of need that had descended upon Simon's mind. His mouth gentled their pursual of the boy's tongue as his hands untangled their hold.

Simon wrapped his arms around the tall teenager and whispered his apologies.

"I'm sorry, James. I didn't mean to hurt you."

The artist scattered tiny kisses along the boy's jaw, his hands soothing a path of comfort up and down James' chest.

"It's just . . . it's been so long. So damn long."

Confusion creased Simon's dark features as he listened to the teenager's laughter.

"Si . . . Simon. You got it all wrong, man. You didn't hurt me. Hell! I liked it!"

James grabbed the older man's unresisting hands and forced them down over his cock. He then coiled Simon's fingers around his erection and began to jerk himself off.

"Feel it, man. Feel how fucking hard my dick is for you. I want you. I want you now."

Simon threw back his head and growled with hunger. His hands pulled on the boy's large shaft, his strokes hard and fast. At the same time his reawakening erection spit out drops of precome, giving him just enough lubrication to initiate a satisfying ride up and down the boy's crack.

The older man drove the teenager to the edge, one hand reaching low to scoop up James' balls. The inhabitants of the furry sac were rolled around relentlessly. Simon laughed as the heavy orbs pulled up tight to the boy's body. He slapped his hand on the fleshy encasement and urged James' balls even closer to his perineum.

This one action triggered a sequence of events. James squeezed the muscles of his ass around the cock riding him and ripped Simon's orgasm from him. The man's come was a geyser of liquid fire, spraying all over James' back.

The black artist responded to the boy's lustful move by tightening his grip on his cock and pinching the wet spongy head hard. James' hot seed exploded, coating Simon's hands. The boy sobbed helplessly as his cock spasmed again and spewed more thick fluid, this time hitting the sculpture in front of him.

Simon caught the teenager before he could slide to the floor. He held James close, allowing his large trembling body to comfort the boy. Sitting back on this stool, Simon flipped James around and picked him up in his arms, arranging the teenager's legs so that they circled his waist.

James instinctively wrapped his arms around Simon's neck and clung to the black giant. Surrendering to the unbidden cries, he hid his face against the man's throat, his tortured breath hot on the dark flesh.

It was several moments before either one could form coherent thoughts much less articulate words. James moved first, the blessing of youthful recuperative powers at his disposal. The teenager claimed Simon's mouth, tasting the man's sweat and his tears. The kiss was long and sweet, communicating emotions the teenager wasn't ready to confess out loud.

Releasing the blind man's lips, James sighed and looked around. His laughter caught Simon's attention.

"James? What is it?"

The teenager reached up and stroked his shaky fingers over Simon's mouth. He then leaned forward and whispered wickedly.

"I think I just christened your work, Mr. Banks."

The end