A Night to Dismember (Foxxo & TNT)

[Foxxo]

Frank crouched down to bring his face closer to Eric's. That look was priceless. If anything it was starting to get Frank excited all over again. Buy no, that wouldn't do. Any more and this boy might break. Boss doesn't like the broken ones.

He slapped him on the side of the face a few more times before cupping his chin. "It may feel bad now, but rest assured your mouth is oh so beautiful, and feels great. I'm sure that expression of yours will help get many a guy off in the future. You owe it to yourself to get better with that tongue though."

Frank admired his handiwork for a little bit longer. The man was going to heave soon, but he couldn't get over the fact that his cum almost painted a picture on the Eric's face. It look like a an umbrella... Or a fancy walking cane. Either way, it wouldn't do to get vomit on his shoes or clothing.

At that point Frank stood up, patted Eric on the head before spitting down onto his face. "Lap that up for me. A cocktail courtesy of Frank. I'm sure you'll find it delicious." Another grin, and a sadistic chuckle as he started to walk away.

"I hope you put in a little more effort when we see each other again. Ta ta for now little man." He waved a hand back towards Eric as he exited the alleyway, speaking in a mock charming, feminine voice. He'd made a strong mental note of where this man lived; information his boss would be very interested in.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Frank. The monster's name was Frank.

Logging this small, yet important detail in the back of his mind for future reference, Eric proceeded to wipe the guy's spittle from his face with his silk pocket square, which he yanked from his suit jacket the moment the guy walked away. Standing as he scrubbed his face clean, he then spat himself, onto the nearby brick wall, all in an effort to rid himself of the disgusting flavor he had swirling around inside of his violated mouth.

Looking down at himself, he let slip a disgusted groan. He looked a mess, all disheveled with bits of trash stuck here and there, although, he imagined he could've looked worse. A lot worse. Therefore, while he inwardly counted his blessings, he outwardly began to make himself look far more presentable. Well, at least as presentable as he needed to be, so that he could make his way inside the Russian Tea Room and immediately into the nearest restroom.

Which is exactly what he did.

Not but five minutes later, Eric was standing at a marble sink, before an oversized, oval-shaped mirror, fussing and fixing himself up as best he could. Thankfully, he came prepared with a pack of breath mints, a travel-size bottle of cologne, and a comb, which he put to good use, restyling his hair so that it looked almost like it had roughly an hour ago. Actually, by the time he left the restroom, some twenty minutes later, he appeared nearly as put together as he had before the incident, save a minor nick in the side of his square jaw.

Wait.

The incident?

Was that really how he was going to refer to being orally assaulted in the alley? Well, yes, he supposed he needed to call it that for now so that he could carry on with this very important evening. Calling it anything else - such as rape - would surely eat away at him, and he couldn't have that. Not now and, actually, not ever. He...he was just going to have to put this whole thing behind him and focus on wining and dining, the one, the only...

"Aaron Becker," he stated now, in a warm voice, as he approached the buff, blond-haired media darling, offering him a hand as he did. "What a pleasure to finally meet you," he then stated, in a surprisingly even voice - at least for someone who had just been through quite an ordeal - as they exchanged a firm handshake. "I believe our table is ready," he then informed the impeccably dressed man, with a wave of his hand. "Ralph Lauren?" he then casually inquired, as they entered the main dinning room, motioning to his crisp, white dinner jacket and ebony dress pants.

You can do this, Eric, he told himself, as they took their seats. You need to do this, he then repeatedly told himself throughout the sublime, five-course meal, which certainly worked to cleanse his soiled pallet and, he was certain, a bit of his equally tarnished soul.

 

[Foxxo]

Frank left the alley with a spring in his step and a wide smile on his face. He felt extremely relieved and relaxed, knowing there'd be no consequences. A man like that would never go to the police. That would mean acknowledging what had just occurred. He was too proud.

He walked about two blocks before knocking a few times in a familiar fashion on a heavy, iron door. A few seconds later bolts could be heard unlocking, and it swung open.

"Thanks Laur." Frank spoke to the thin woman as he walked inside. She was one of Dave's, and off limits. Nevertheless Frank was friendly with all of his compatriots. Thieves honor or some shit like that. Not to mention he had a likeable personality when he tried.

He whistled while he walked through the clubhouse. Guys playing pool, darts, drinking and smoking up a storm. He loved this place. The sounds, the smell, the atmosphere. Everything screamed home and familiarity.

Walking purposefully up some stairs and down another hall, he came up to a wooden door. He knocked twice before entering without waiting for a reply.

Inside was a giant of a man. Bald, with a well sculpted goatee. He wore a denim vest, leather pants and little else. His arms, chest, and neck were covered in faded tattoos. Tommy was a scary man, but also Frank's closest comrade in The Pack. Tommy was his recruiter.

"How's it going buddy?!" No response. Just a stare, until Tommy returned his attention to the TV playing across the room.

"Listen, I just found us a great opportunity that I'd like you to check out..." Frank told him about the events that had just occurred. Tommy said nothing, but the slight smirk that developed on his face was enough of tell. The rest of the night was going to be very fun.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

So far, Aaron was thoroughly enjoying his evening with Eric.

Their meal at the Russian Tea Room had been ridiculously delicious, with each course not only building upon the previous one, but exceeding it in quality and flavor. As for Eric himself, he was surprisingly witty, relentlessly charming, and, well, overly attentive, almost to a fault, but not so much so that Aaron worried it would get to be a bit too much as the evening went on.

He knew that the guy was trying to impress him, trying to win him over, but that was mostly because of who Aaron was and, more importantly, who his father was. He got it, he understood, and he would probably behave the exact same way if the designer shoe was on the other foot. Although, he wasn't so certain he would've been able to pull off what Eric did by getting his hands on two tickets for thee show of the season, which he was under the impression had been sold out for weeks, if not months.

"I don't know how you managed to pull this off, but I'm certainly glad that you did," he informed Eric now as they stood by the bar in the lobby of the theatre, enjoying an extended intermission, due, in part, to some sort of technical difficulty with the sound system. "Listen. I have to update my media feeds," Aaron informed him now, as he waved his cell in the air between them, "and then I have to take a wicked piss. I'll meet you back inside in a few. Just save my seat!"

Finishing off his drink, Aaron then excused himself. Making his way over to the coat check, he retrieved his full-length, Versace fur and then, after sliding his formally-clad form into it, made his way outside so that he could get better reception on his cell. His social media threads were his livelihood, the blood that flowed through the veins of his celebrity status. If he didn't update on a regular basis, then he didn't exist. Just like that, people would move on, leaving him in the dust, which he certainly wasn't willing to accept.

"Okay. Done, done, and, done," he muttered to himself as his fingers danced across the slick screen of his device. Now, I desperately need the bathroom, he thought as reentered the theatre, only to discover that the facility on the main floor had an alarmingly long line. Not one to wait for practically anything in his charmed life, Aaron inquired if there was another facility, which, after a bit of hemming and hawing from the usher whom he had stopped to ask, he was informed that there was indeed a oft forgotten restroom downstairs.

Eager to take care of business, Aaron made his way there, not even taking the time to return his plush fur to the coat check. He would do so right after he relieved himself. However, upon stepping inside the surprisingly neglected washroom - oft forgotten indeed! - he immediately wondered if he had made a misstep by coming down here. The place was dank and dirty, and it smelled more than a little off. Yet, he did have it all to himself, which certainly held some appeal, and he did have to go really bad. So instead of retreating, he pressed on, taking up a spot along the front wall, where a bank of urinals sat waiting to be used.

Hopefully the water is still running down here, he randomly thought to himself as he swiftly filled the porcelain bowl before him, nearly to the brim, making every effort not to get a single drop of urine on himself.

 

[Foxxo]

It was pretty obvious which of the men was accompanying Eric. Tommy had been completely filled in since then. Boss had given him a ticket after hearing about the man Frank had encountered earlier, and that he'd have a date.

Of course, they both looked extremely well off, and given how much of a pushover the one had been with Frank earlier (Frank wasn't known as one of the most physical guys in the gang) both Tommy and Boss had been on board in taking advantage of this situation.

Tommy himself had been leaning against a pillar in the waiting room; easy enough to see most exits from the theatre itself, yet hidden enough that someone walking around the lobby probably wouldn't notice him. A difficult task given Tommy stood well over 6'0 and weighed into the high 200s.

That's when he saw him, the other one. No idea what his name was, but Tommy didn't really care. He was far more interested in those accessories. Frank apparently nabbed a Rolex off the earlier guy, something he'd always wanted for himself.

This other man, immaculately well dressed but obviously unaware. Clicked away on his phone before talking to some staff and taking off in an odd direction. Tommy grinned as the man had probably just made the worst decision of his life.

Casually, Tommy stood up, and without looking anywhere else slowly trod down the same path the man had just taken. Seemed like he headed into a wing due for some renovations... This place would be completely empty... And perfect.

Tommy entered the bathroom, hearing the door close and assuming that's why the man had come down here. He pulled up into the urinal right beside him. Without looking over, he pulled his cock from his leather pants and took a piss. "Good show, hmm?" He wasn't one with words, but he'd have fun tonight.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Taking a little longer than he had expected to relieve himself, Aaron actually took out his cell and began to scroll through his feeds, that is, until his four bars of service went to none. Huffing, he made the most of the moment by clicking a few selfies instead, which he would upload later. The contrast of him in his handsome formal attire against the backdrop of filthy tiles was quite striking. He was already toying with tags in his mind, when he heard the door to the restroom open.

Quickly tucking his phone away, he focused on finishing up, not initially paying any attention to the other person until they saddled up to the urinal right next to him - Really? No breathing room? No gap of at least one urinal? - and actually spoke, which went against most protocols when two men, especially two strangers, were using the facility.

Casting the guy a quick sidelong glance, Aaron immediately found himself feeling more than a little uneasy. The guy was tall, and beefy, and very intimidating looking, dressed more like a biker than someone who would actually attend the theatre. Actually, he was sort of amazed that the ushers even let him in, seeing that he was wearing nothing more than a denim vest, without a shirt, and a pair of well-worn leather pants.

"Uh. Yeah. It's a great show," he replied, as he shook the last few drops from his cock, before quickly tucking the generous length back inside his pale-blue briefs and zipping up.

Stepping away from the urinal without flushing it, he then went over to the bank of sinks and began to wash his hands, regardless of the fact that a small voice in the back of his mind was telling him to get the hell out of here. Yet, while something did indeed feel a little off about this place, about this situation - especially now that this guy was looming just a few feet away - in the moment, Aaron convinced himself that it was better for him to just play it cool.

The guy reminded him of one of those animals, the kind that if you made any sort of sudden moves, gave any sort of sign that you were feeling the least bit intimidated, they would pounce without warning. Like a mountain lion or a grizzly bear. Not that Aaron had much first-hand experience with either one of those, but he'd seen enough episodes of Man vs. Wild to recognize a predator when he came into contact with one.

This guy had trouble, quite literally, tattooed all over him.