The Telemachus Story Archive

Reflected Glory
By Hooder

Reflected Glory

Nature had not been as kind to Dean in the looks department as it might have been, and what he lacked in physical beauty he more than equalled in personal mediocrity. ‘Average’, ‘boring’, and ‘Oh God it’s Dean – hide,’ were phrases he was familiar with. It didn’t bother him particularly; he was used to it, but occasionally he wished that someone would take the trouble to talk to him in a friendly way.

As far as sex went he had just one regular and loyal partner: his right hand. When he was masturbating, his deepest and darkest fantasy was that he was lying on a bed beside a guy who was wanking him off. Dean’s imagination was as lacking as his experience.

He was, however, a talented website designer, and this had enabled him to buy a house that was exactly what he’d wanted. It was also too big for him, and so he’d decided a while ago to rent out one of the spare rooms. He thought it might be a way to get some company.

A few guys had replied to the advert and had come for interviews, but he hadn’t found any of them very interesting – until Adrian had arrived.

Adrian was beautiful. Adrian was fucking gorgeous. Nineteen, shaggy black hair, a smooth, well-muscled body, sparkling green eyes and a smile that melted Dean’s heart. And he was friendly, fun, and bubbly. Dean fell instantly in love and in lust with Adrian.

The room was, apparently, exactly what the boy was looking for, and could he move in tomorrow? Dean nodded, in a daze. He couldn’t understand why such an angelic boy would want to share a house with him. Could it be possible that Adrian actually fancied him? He wondered.

No, Adrian didn’t fancy him, although the boy was gay. But even so they got on well, and Dean was more than happy to have such a beautiful youth around. His wanking fantasies became much more focussed and much more satisfactory, if still just as basic.

In the evenings, if Adrian wasn’t going out, they sat and watched TV or chatted. Well, it was the boy who did most of the chatting – Dean couldn’t keep up, and mainly just sat there gazing longingly at him.

On one of these evenings Adrian asked him if he’d been to the new ‘Club Zero’.

Dean looked at him vacantly; he hadn’t even heard of it.

“It’s in Deep Water Street – not far from the market. It’s a fetish club – leather mainly. I fancy going tomorrow night.” He paused, and his eyes lit up. “Hey, Dean – why don’t you come with me?”

Dean blinked. He didn’t believe this: Adrian was asking him to go out to a club with him? He had actually never been to a club of any kind – let alone a leather club - in his life. He blinked again. “Aren’t those places full of Masters and Slaves? Stuff like that?” He’d stick out like a sore thumb and it would all end in tears, he knew it.

“They are. I know - how about you take me as your slave? You could have me in a collar and hold my lead!” He grinned at the thought. “It would be fun!” He elbowed Dean playfully in the ribs. “And you should get out more anyway.”

This was something completely outside of Dean’s experience, but the thought of having a boy as gorgeous as Adrian on a lead, and of being seen with him in a club, by other guys, was blowing his mind.

But suddenly Dean had second thoughts. He’d never been to a gay leather club before and the idea was making him very nervous. “But I wouldn’t know what to do – and I’ve got nothing to wear.”

Adrian grinned. “You don’t have to do anything. Walk around with me, show me off to the others. You’re my master and you control me. You can make me do anything you want: make me stand or kneel anywhere, forbid me to talk to people – anything. Just look dominant.

Dean didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about looking dominant – it was not something he’d ever tried to do. He wasn’t at all sure about this.

“And you’re not far off the same size as me so you can wear some of my gear. I’ll sort you out. Don’t worry. Say you’ll do it.”

Dean was used to being made a fool of, and he suspected that this project was sure to end up the same way; but the thought of being seen with Adrian - even the remote possibility that guys might really think he had such a sexy, hot boy as a slave - was terminally seductive. Suddenly he nodded. “Ok, I’ll do it.”

Dean’s jaw dropped in amazement as Adrian knocked on the bedroom door and came in: he looked unbelievable. He’d never seen the boy actually trying to look sexy before – neither had he ever seen him in leather – and the effect was stunning. Motorcycle boots with white socks turned over the tops; very short, very tight, and eye-wateringly bulging leather shorts; a strappy harness thing under an open leather bike jacket which showed the boy’s beautiful pecs off a treat; and a studded black leather dog collar around his neck with a lead attached. But it wasn’t just the gear, it was the way he was wearing it, the way he was standing. The boy just oozed sex.

“What d’ya think?”

Dean gulped. “You look… Fuck, you look amazing,” he managed. That boy could be on the front page of magazines, he thought. He’d never seen such a beautiful, horny sight in his entire life.

Adrian’s face lit up. “Good! Now, let’s get you sorted. Come with me.” He grabbed Dean’s hand and led him into his bedroom.

There was a pile of leather gear on the bed, and he took a pair of jeans from the top. “I think these’ll fit you...”

Half an hour later Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He had no idea if he looked sexy or ridiculous. The combat boots with the leather jeans tucked into them looked good, he had to admit, even if the jeans were slightly too big; the leather shirt and bike jacket fit well enough, though not perfectly – Adrian was more muscular than he was - and the black leather Muir cap was just a fraction too small. He pulled it down a bit. “I don’t know.” He turned sideways and looked again.

“You’re not wearing them. Stand up a bit more. Straighten your back. Push your bulge out. Think dominant.”

Dean tried to adjust his body and to think dominant. There was a difference, but he wasn’t sure it was an improvement.

“That’s better.”

“If you say so.” He met the boy’s eyes in the mirror. “You sure I don’t look silly?”

“Of course you don’t! You look hot.”

“Hmm.” Dean wasn’t convinced.

“Here, hold this.”

Dean took the end of the lead and watched Adrian kneel down at his booted feet. He raised his eyebrows. Yes, he thought, that did look good.

The club was heaving. It was also dark. “I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“You will in a couple of minutes when your eyes have adjusted.”

They walked slowly into the main room, Dean feeling very nervous indeed. “What would you like to drink?” He shouted over the pounding music.

“A beer please,” Adrian replied, more in sign language than anything else.

Dean handed a bottle to him. At least he could see a bit better now. He scanned the room: there were guys in black leather everywhere. He saw a space over by the wall so he led the boy in that direction. When they got there he breathed a sigh of relief - at least it was fractionally quieter away from the loudspeakers.

“Stand with your back to the wall, with your feet apart,” Adrian whispered close to his ear.

He did so, and the boy knelt down between his boots, facing the same way. Dean rested one hand on top of the spiky hair – more for assurance than anything else.

A couple of minutes later a guy in full leathers walked up to them. He stood and looked at the boy for a moment, then turned to Dean. “Do you rent him out?”

Dean hesitated. He had no idea what to say – would Adrian want to go with this guy? Dominant, he thought. Be dominant. Adrian is your slave. “Erm, no. Sorry.”

The guy looked down at the boy again. “Pity. He’s fucking hot.” Then he turned and walked away.

In less than two minutes, another guy came up to them. This one stood, leather legs apart, with a thigh directly in front of Adrian’s face, almost touching it. He was looking down at the boy, not at Dean. He took a leisurely swig of his beer, then pushed the leather against the red lips. “Lick,” he ordered.

Adrian didn’t move a muscle.

What the fuck do I do? Thought Dean. ‘Be dominant’ echoed in his mind again. “This boy is my slave. Please go away.” Well, the first bit was all right.

The guy sniffed, gave Dean a dirty look, and left.

Over the next half hour, variations on this theme were repeated many times. One guy had been especially difficult to get rid of: he’d walked up to them, crouched down, pulled Adrian’s head towards him and, without asking either of them, had kissed him hard.

“Erm… this boy is my property. Please don’t do that.”

The guy glanced up at Dean for a moment, then stood up. “Perhaps we can negotiate.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Two hundred to take him home for the night.”

Two hundred? Pounds? Good grief. Again, Dean had no idea what to do. In mounting panic, he thought he’d better ask. “Boy,” he said, “you may speak.”

Adrian tilted his head right back until he was looking, upside down, at Dean. “You’re my master, Sir. It’s for you to decide. As always.” He lowered his head again.

Ok. Dean looked at the guy. “No. Sorry.”

“Two fifty.”

“The boy is not for sale.”

The guy took a drink of beer. “Ok. How about a threesome?”

A threesome? That would mean he’d get the chance to touch Adrian… But no, he knew, he wouldn’t; he’d be excluded. The guy was only interested in the boy. “No. And that’s final.”

With a last look of longing at the kneeling boy and a sneer at Dean, he finally left.

“Are your knees hurting down there? I think you should stand up.”

Adrian stood. He took one of Dean’s hands and placed it over his own mouth, as a gag, and the other on his leather shorts, then he pushed himself back against Dean’s body with his arms behind his back. His hands came to rest against Dean’s crotch, and he massaged the cock underneath gently.

Dean could not believe this. He was holding the most beautiful boy he’d ever met, and had one hand on his cock bulge, while the boy was playing with him! This was the first time he’d ever touched a boy’s crotch, and the first time that Adrian – or any one , for that matter - had ever touched him there, even through leather jeans. His cock responded instantly. And just holding him close felt more wonderful than he could have imagined.

Again, guys came up to them – it seemed to Dean as if there was an invisible queue of them – and were told that, regrettably, the boy was not free. Many of them complimented Dean on having such a stunningly beautiful slave, and some of them almost pleaded to be allowed to play with him.

During a rare lull in this constant attention, and at Adrian’s suggestion, Dean sent him off to the bar for more beer. As he made his way there and back several guys accosted him, but Dean saw him politely decline all their offers, smiling apologetically and occasionally pointing back towards him. Like a loyal slave he returned and handed a bottle to his master.

“Don’t you want to play with anyone?” Asked Dean, concerned. “This is lovely, but I feel like I’m cramping your style.”

Adrian turned towards him and smiled. “I’m happy. Enjoy it.” He knelt down again and wrapped his free arm around Dean’s leg, caressing the black leather with his cheek.

The evening progressed, and more guys came up to them, desperate to play with the beautiful, sexy slave boy. Dean thought he was getting a bit better at sounding ‘dominant’, and indeed he was enjoying this very much: to have such a stunning youth - if even only for one night, and even if only just for looks – was wonderful. But at the same time it made him feel sad.

Another guy came up, and was told that Adrian was not available.

Yet another guy arrived. This one was a nice-looking young man, in a bike jacket, tight faded Levis and heavy leather New Rock boots. He stood at Dean’s side, sipping his beer. “I’ve been watching you all night,” he said.

Dean nodded. Yes, so had everybody else, it seemed.

The guy tilted his beer bottle in Adrian’s direction. “He’s a very beautiful boy, isn’t he.”

Dean smiled politely. “Yes he is.”

“Have you got many slaves?”


The guy took a swallow of beer. “I want you,” he said.

Dean knew exactly what the guy wanted.

Suddenly a hand was turning his head and lips were pressed against his. He was being kissed.

Dean was not used to being kissed, but he responded as best he could. Well at least this was a new strategy, he thought.

Their lips parted, and the guy stared into his eyes. “You are one sexy guy.”

“Thank you,” said Dean. “But I’m afraid that Adrian is not available.”

The guy smiled. “Oh I’m not interested in the boy,” he said. “I’m not into boys. It’s you I want.”

Yeah, right, Dean thought. Two guys, one who is a stunningly gorgeous youth with a body to die for, and the other a man who is bordering on the ugly, in gear that doesn’t quite fit, and a ridiculous cap – which one would you choose?

“I know your boy is beautiful. I know that everyone else wants to get into his shorts. But please believe me when I say that I really, really want you. You. Is that so difficult to believe?”

Dean looked at him. “Yes, it is, to be honest. And while I’m being honest, Adrian is not my slave, much as I would love him to be. He invited me here tonight because – actually I have no idea why he invited me here tonight. This was all his idea. I’ve never been into a leather club before in my life. Adrian rents my spare room. I’m just his landlord.” Dean didn’t know why he’d told this guy, but it was cathartic somehow. He felt so much better.

The guy smiled. He nodded slowly, and then raised his eyebrows. “Ok. That’s good. So you’re available then.”

“No. Yes. I mean...”

“Tell you what, why don’t you let Adrian go do what he really wants to do. Then you and me can go back to my flat and get to know each other. What do you say?”

The very concept that anybody could be sexually interested in him was a new one to Dean. He started to reply, stopped, started again. “Are you serious?”

“I’m very serious. Name’s Alan.”

“Dean.” He was at a loss for words. “I’m not very… experienced, Alan.”

A corner of the guy’s mouth lifted. “I can see that. Don’t worry – I am. I’m very experienced. Enough for both of us.”

Dean Looked down at the boy between his boots. He was troubled: he couldn’t leave Adrian on his own after he’d done all this for him - he’d feel guilty. He was about to thank the guy but decline, when Adrian stood up and turned around towards him, a soft smile on his face.

“I think I’ve had enough of this for now. I’ve really enjoyed this evening, Dean, being your slave. But there’s a guy over there I like the look of. Would you mind very much if -” He took Dean’s hands and placed them gently on the buckle of his collar.

For some reason Dean almost burst into tears, but he didn’t. “Are you sure?”

Adrian was still smiling. “I’m sure. Go and enjoy yourself.”

Hesitatingly, he unfastened the collar. “Thank you, Adrian. Thank you.”

The boy grinned, leaned towards him and gave him a long, slow kiss. Dean almost passed out.

Then he was gone.

“Now,” said Alan, putting a proprietorial arm around Dean’s waist and steering him towards the exit, “what are you into?”

Dean blinked. “I have absolutely no idea,” he said.

Alan smiled. “Well let’s go and find out, shall we?”