Muscle Suite (Prologue)

[sydian]

OK, this is just an idea for a story that I've had for a while, and as it's a first post, please let me know how I can improve my writing. There's no growth in this chapter, as it really just sets up events, but trust me when I say there's lots of action coming!

*****

"Hey man, it's Mark."
"Mark, hey, what's happening?"
"Nothing. Just wondered what you were doing tonight."
"Ah, sorry, man, I've got this family thing at my parents'."
"Again? You guys must be pretty close."
"It's my cousin's wedding in a couple of weeks, so we're getting together a lot. I'll have to take a raincheck on this one, but I'll see you sometime this weekend, yeah?"
Sigh. "Yeah, I guess. It feels like we don't hang out anymore, like you've always got something on."
"I know, man, trust me, it's breaking my balls, but family's family, right? How about tomorrow night, down at Boone's, first round on me? We could even invite Dan if you want."
"Yeah, I think he'd like that. You guys haven't really spoken that much, right? Looking forward to it."
"Cool, cool. Sorry again about tonight, I'll make it up to you tomorrow. See you then."
"Yeah, see you, Ryan."
Click. Phone down, another wasted Friday night sat in front of the box, pizza from the local joint, empty house, all for me. Dan was away for the night, business or something, so I'd thought of giving Ryan a call. No dice - should have guessed. It seemed like months since I'd seen him, even though we talked on the phone quite a bit. The last time had been his 25th, a bar-crawl till dawn, no prisoners. Dan couldn't make it, stuck in bed with the chills, not that it'd have been his scene. My boy didn't drink much, especially if he wasn't feeling great, and it wasn't like he was invited, anyway. God, I missed those nights out with Ryan. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was into him or anything. Yeah, he was cute, in a one-time kind of way, but the guy did nothing for me - and most guys at least did something. I'm not exactly a subtle gay; I'm a regular at the right clubs, play the wrong songs, dance to the wrong songs, enjoy spirits - I tick all the boxes. Dan was my latest catch, a native I picked up in Venice and brought back in my suitcase. Not to blow my own cock, but I'm pretty lucky when it comes to guys. Dan's a little over six foot, naturally lean and tanned (that olive skin is to die for!), and insanely fashionable. Seriously, if we ever went anywhere together, I wouldn't blame people for thinking I'd bagged a model, because that's how it feels to me sometimes. Now, I'm not your average chump in the looks department, I've stayed slim and kept clean, making what I could of my dark hair and lack of muscle tone. You could say I look a bit like Jamie Cullum, minus the whole dwarf thing, and you wouldn't catch me tinkling the ivories. There, Dan out-classes me by miles, but he's quite the introvert, which some guys go for, meaning my pedestal's closer to his than a photograph could tell you (unless you can tell at a glance who's Coke has vodka in it).
So, home alone. I was so bored, literally about to split my skull open to drown out the monotonous drone of the game-shows and reality channels, when the phone started ringing again. Now, I'm a popular guy, but I wasn't expecting any calls after Ryan brushed me off, so it made me jump a little. Who could it be? The mystery of the unexpected caller! Intriguing.
"Hello?"
"Mark?" It was Michelle, big surprise. She's our local fag-hag, comes round quite a lot to chill with Dan and me, always brings oriental food. Makes a mean dim-sum.
"Bit late for you Michelle. I thought you went to bed at sundown."
"Yeah, in my coffin, in the local crypt. I'm a vampire."
"Not quite, that'd be at sunrise. Wise up." She tries, but she hasn't got the wit of the jungle, which is a shame because she's actually quite intelligent.
"Stop teasing me, Mark. Have you got any plans tonight?"
"Not exactly. Dan's on call, Ryan's going head-hunting at his parents', I'm all planned out."
"Aw, poor baby! Do you need a hug?" Patronising quips aside, there was a lot of sincerity there. I swear Michelle just doesn't get signals from me at all.
"I'm not the sweetest teddy bear."
"I know, Mark, you're more of a rag doll."
"Bitch, I'll scratch your eyes out!" That made her laugh, it always does. She's a sucker for my sweet-talk.
"Do you want me to come over? I could make some stir-fry..."
"Tempting, but no thanks. I've already got a pizza on the way, I'd hate to waste your chic cuisine."
"You always sound so sarcastic, Mark."
"Sorry. I'll try to tone it down."
"Work on it, OK?" She blew a kiss down the phone (she'll never learn!) and hung up, leaving me alone again. Great. Looking at the clock, I saw I had another twenty minutes before chow-time, so I switched off the TV (wasn't hard at all) and grabbed my coat. I had time to get a bottle of wine or something to go with my meal. About to head out the door, I stopped and thought about calling Dan. I hadn't heard from him all night, and though I'm not clingy I worry about him sometimes. He hated it when I interrupted him at work, though, so I switched off the lights and made my way outside, thoughts of Ryan's betrayal already gone from my head.

~

The off-licence, no tricks, no snags. An old man in the duffel coat stood in the corner arguing with a bottle of gin, two teenage girls hanging around the door (he's probably buying for them, crazy old pervert!), a counter-clam who can't understand a word of English, and a hell of a lot of booze. My Friday night. Quickly regretting not bringing some sort of fire-arm, I stepped into the store, feeling the cold wave of death beckoning from the freezers flow through me. Something about these stores creeped me out, I don't know why. The amount of psychos you can find, probably. I had to keep one eye on the old guy while I sought out my favourite red, nervous that he might pull a knife on me. He'd get away with it too; everyone would blame the girls, naturally, although discrimination might lead to the guy at the till getting done. It's just the world we live in.
"Just this."
"Sorry?" I could already see where this was going.
"Bottle of red."
"Just one, sir?" I could feel my blood slowly rising from the frustration.
"Yes."
"One bottle of red?"
"Yes."
"Anything else?" I was struggling to keep it cool.
"No."
"Just that?"
"Yes."
"That'll be eight-ninety, please." Thank fuck for that, he'd managed to figure it out. I wasted no time in handing over the money and leaving, not even to shake my head at the hopeful lawbreakers loitering by the door. The sooner I got home and could have a nice meal (by myself), I reasoned, the better. However, fate doesn't always agree with our best-laid plans.
BOOM!
Snapping my head round quickly, I saw a truck swerve as the driver slammed on his brakes, not quick enough to stop the guy crossing the road getting a cab-face sandwich. The man went flying, hitting the kerb nearby with a crunch, and then there was silence, filled only with the driver's manic ranting.
"Holy fucking Christ, what just happened! Shit, he's not moving! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Someone call an ambulance! I didn't see him until... fuck!"
One of the girls near the door whipped out her phone and dialled the emergency services, while her friend stood next to her fidgeting nervously. I wouldn't have been surprised if the girl had wet herself. Running over to the road, I bent down next to the man who got hit, but had to draw a breath when I saw him. He was built like a brick shit house, his shirt barely containing his swollen arms and heaving chest - at least he was still breathing. He was sitting down, so it was hard to tell, but I would have guessed that the guy was at least six-five, maybe six-six, and every part of him was inflated with thick muscle that almost got me going, right there. He was the kind of guy you expected to see in a wrestling ring or on a playing field, or maybe even on a computer screen stripping down for the camera (yeah, I watched all those videos), but seeing him up close and personal was something else. Lost in my own world for a moment, I almost forgot to check his pulse, though it seemed a bit pointless with his mammoth chest grinding up and down like a piston in his tight shirt. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, a brilliant green that shone like emeralds, and he looked at me in bewilderment.
"Whoa, what happened? My head hurts." I was stunned; the guy barely sounded injured at all! It was more like he'd fallen onto the kerb than he'd been hit by a truck that had sent him sprawling.
"You just got hit by a truck crossing a road, remember?" He blinked a couple of times, apparently more bemused than shocked, then with an almightly surge of power that rippled through his body he sat up, looking at the vehicle as if noticing it for the first time.
"Really? Man, what a rush! I've still got adrenaline firing round inside me..."
"Hey, you!" Looking up, I saw the driver running over, sweating up a storm in his panic. Not without some amusement, I noticed him check the guy out as well, but only briefly before he took his cap off and ran his hand through his hair, still fretting from the accident. "What were you thinking, walking out into the road?"
"I just didn't see you coming, dude, must have been dreaming or something. Can't believe it myself. Is your truck OK?" He grunted as he adjusted himself, before standing up to his full height, completely dwarfing the driver. From my perspective, he was a column of muscle, like a giant Greek statue, his pecs overhanging considerably, straining against his shirt, nipples erect in the cool autumn air. Taking a moment to steady himself, the behemoth made his way over to the truck, looking for any damage, while me and the driver just gaped after him, speechless. "Great, looks like it's all clear. That would've been embarrassing." Turning to face us, he flashed the most adorable smile, teeth glistening in the light from the street lamps. "Sorry for the trouble there. I'll have to be more careful."
The truck driver apparently couldn't believe his eyes, after seeing a man he'd effectively rammed down get straight back up and even show concern for his machine. Could you blame him? Taking the man's hand, he got back into his truck and pulled off without a word, still quite pale from the shock. Still smiling, the man just stood there, watching him go, until one of the girls from the store decided to try her luck (bitch).
"Wow, you're amazing! I can't believe you weren't hurt! Though, looking at you, you look pretty damn indestructable..." Before she could finish, the guy put his hand on her shoulder and sighed, clearly aware of her aim.
"I'm really sorry, you seem like a sweet kid... but I don't go for that sort of thing."
"What? What sort of thing?" Poor girl, she was clearly heartbroken.
"Girls." Ka-ching! Suddenly, all worry from the accident gone, I was feeling a whole lot better than before I'd left the house. The guy was something straight out of a wet dream, and he even batted for my team! What were the odds? Disappointed, the teenagers skulked off (not even waiting around for their bottle of poison), leaving me and the guy alone in the street. You could have cut through that silence with a buzz-saw.
"So, what's the deal?" It took me a second to realise he was talking to me.
"Huh?"
"Have you got somewhere you need to be?" Man, he was looking straight at me. I couldn't help feeling a little intimidated.
"Well, uh, I was probably just going to head home. I've got nothing better." Another flash of that smile, and he started walking towards me, before wrapping his hand around my arm and pulling me closer to him.
"You have now."
So, it was snap decision time. Either stay at home, faithful but lonely, chewing a lump of molten cheese and getting drunk while wallowing in self-pity, or head off into the unknown with a guy I'd only just met but sent shivers down my spine every time those green eyes fixed on me. It didn't take long; screw the pizza!
"Are you going to tell me your name?" We started walking away from the store, his arm now around my shoulders (it was like a heavy blanket, he was so big), and I couldn't help but feel a small bubble of anticipation rising deep inside me.
"Just call me Tom. You?"
"Mark."
"Great. I've got a place in mind for you, Mark, and I think you're going to like it."
"You're making me feel special."
"Oh, believe me, you're going to feel special."
"Why, where are we going?" Strangely, no panic had set in, just excitement at the thought of what this huge hunk was planning for me, for us.
"We're going," he said, voice dripping with what I could only imagine was lust, "to a club I know. I guarantee you, no other club will hold the same appeal ever again.
We're going to the Hench Suite."

*****

That's all for now - hope you look forward to the next part, coming soon!

[beachdude]

WOW! Fantastic start, man! Definitely looking forward to the next part.

[Mad Dog]

If you're going to be posting more, I recommend double-spacing. It helps make the text more readable and less of an eye strain.