"Ever Changing" - Chapter One

by Shay Kincaid

Blue eyes surveyed the throng of swaying bodies as their owner wondered what the night would bring. He loved visiting New York’s various – and varied – clubs, immersing himself in the music, losing himself in a warm, willing body. Would tonight's conquest be blond, brunette, or have hair the color of midnight? Would the body be slight or toned; would he be tall or of average height? A grin played on his lips as he perused a few unsuspecting candidates.

Setting his empty glass on the bar, Chase made his way onto the dance floor and was immediately surrounded by gyrating bodies. Anonymous hands roamed at will, touching, stroking. Chase's eyes slowly closed as his body responded to the welcome touches, his lithe frame moving to the heavy beat of the music. He felt his partners changing places around him and smiled when he felt a pair of lips at this throat, a warm tongue teasing its way up his neck; a provocative invitation issued with a sinfully deep voice.

Hours later, Chase dressed, slipped silently from an unknown apartment and made his way back to his own place.  Tossing his keys onto the table in his entry hall, the sandy-blond hair of an exhausted Chase darkened to midnight black, his sky blue eyes shifting back to emerald green.

Born a Changeling, Chase Spencer could alter his appearance at will with a single, whispered word.  Some Changelings could imitate one or two other appearances, or could replicate someone they had seen. More proficient than most of his kind, Chase’s skills didn’t appear to be limited that way. Just picturing a feature in his mind, he could alter his look instantly.

Being a Changeling had always been a game to Chase. Young and precocious, he had attempted to see how many people he could fool with his altered appearances – teachers, playmates, even his parents. As he reached adulthood, however, the games took on a whole new meaning. Each weekend found Chase in a different club, with a different face, a different body and a different attitude.  And of course, a different partner.

This was his life - a never-ending string of nameless partners who served to pass the time and amuse him.  He knew that one of these days he would tire of the endless parade of bodies, but until then, he would enjoy each and every one of them – no strings attached. 

And so it continued - club after club, one warm body after another. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tonight, Chase had decided to visit one of New York City’s premiere hot spots.

Dressed in a sheer white shirt, unbuttoned so that it showed off sculpted abs, and black leather pants that hugged him like a second skin, Derek knew he looked good. Add his athletic build, blond hair and blue eyes, and he was practically guaranteed at least one fuck that night, possibly more if things went well. This persona was a hard-core bad boy, one who took what he wanted, and didn’t care whose toes he stepped on to get it. If someone caught his eye, he made his intentions known and nine times out of ten, he ended up with either a blowjob or quick fuck out of the deal. Not too bad, in his opinion.

From his place on the dance floor, Derek's gaze landed on a new challenge. His normally relaxed smile turned calculating as he extricated himself from his dance partners and made his way to the bar. A few minutes later, a drink had been delivered and he sat back – waiting – nursing his own drink – watching.

Seated at a table in a darkened corner with his own collection of willing bodies draped over and around him, Thomas Bradford scowled at the waiter who dared to interrupt him. An extremely skilled pair of lips sucked his cock, bringing him closer to completion, making him groan at the intrusion.  

"Compliments of the young man at the bar," the waiter offered as he set the drink on the table and motioned to where Derek was standing. The server disappeared, absorbed back into the crowd.

Steely gray eyes took in every detail of the young man the waiter had pointed out. Starting with the sandy blond hair, his gaze traveled over a very generous set of lips that would look perfect sucking his cock, down a toned and tanned body. The stranger at the bar turned to order another drink, presenting Thomas with an unobstructed view of his sculpted ass. His fingers flexed in the dark hair covering his lap and Thomas’s latest toy renewed his efforts. Leaning back in the booth, his head resting against the seat, Thomas’s eyes closed as he pictured the blond man’s lips wrapped around his cock, coaxing his orgasm from him.

Derek finished the drink he ordered and then slowly wound his way around to where Thomas was seated. Instead of stopping at the blond’s booth, he continued on to the next table where he picked up another partner, asking him to dance.

Thomas watched the pair as they melted into the crowd, catching sight of them moments later as they turned the corner, heading down the hall into the men’s restroom. Unable to resist, he pushed the forgotten pick-up off his lap, excused himself from his group of hangers-on and followed. Opening the door, he watched as his benefactor’s cock slid repeatedly into the body pinned against the wall and knew that he had just found the man worthy of fucking him tonight.  

Derek's gaze never left Thomas as he continued to fuck the man he’d picked up just to cement Thomas’s interest. But a fuck was still a fuck and this one had a nice, tight ass. He felt his orgasm approaching and with a few final thrusts, he groaned through his release. His forehead fell onto the twink’s back for a few moments as he regained his breath. When he looked up again, his target was gone. A smug smile graced Derek's lips as he quickly righted himself and opened the door, fully expecting to find the gorgeous blond waiting.  

"Very nice," Thomas commented as Derek passed him in the hallway. "How long will it take you to get it up again?"  

Derek gave Thomas a long, lingering look and smiled. "For you? Not long at all," he stated. 

"Prove it," Thomas said as he turned and made for the exit.   

"Oh, absolutely," Derek said to himself, his smile growing as he followed Thomas from the club. Once outside, they waited together in silence as the valet brought Thomas’s black Jaguar XK convertible around.  

In less than twenty minutes, they pulled into the parking garage of Thomas’s condo and rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite.   

Derek took in his surroundings, noticing the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park, first. He let out a low whistle. "Nice digs."   

Stormy eyes turned to the man he’d brought home. "I didn’t bring you here for your decorating advice," Thomas declared as he walked down the hallway, not bothering to see if his companion was following.   

Derek entered the sumptuous bedroom to find the intriguing blond stripping and took a moment to enjoy the show. If Thomas Bradford looked good in clothes, he was spectacular out of them. His gaze roamed over the slender body and his cock stirred at the thought of touching, tasting, taking what was on display before him.  

"Well?" the blond challenged. "Planning on staring all night or were you going to fuck me?"  He lay back on an enormous four-poster bed and slowly stroked himself.   

Quickly divesting himself of his own clothes, Derek moved to stand between Thomas’s open legs and swatted his hand away. 

"This is mine tonight," he said as he gave Thomas’s cock a gentle squeeze. "You’re mine." 

A well-manicured eyebrow arched. "That is where you are wrong. I brought you home which means that I own you," Thomas corrected, causing Derek to remove his hand. 

"I will never be owned by anyone.  The reason you brought me here is because you want my cock up your ass, plain and simple.  So decide now – if you want my cock, I’m in charge. If not, then I have no problem with leaving," Derek declared, starting to move away from the bed.

Thomas sat up and wrapped his legs around Derek's, preventing the other man from retreating. "Fine, you’re in charge. But it better be worth it," he said as he pulled Derek onto the bed with him. 

"I wouldn’t be here if you thought otherwise. I’ve already auditioned, remember?" Derek stated as he settled himself between the open thighs.

"Touché," Thomas countered as he raised his knees and planted his feet firmly on the bed, an invitation that Derek had no intention of ignoring.

Guessing that Thomas kept his supplies handy, Derek reached over and opened the bedside drawer, retrieving a bottle of Wet and a handful of condoms.  He quickly slicked his fingers and prepared Thomas, making certain he wrung a series of impassioned cries from the writhing body as he ghosted his fingers over Thomas’s prostate.

"Enough!" Thomas finally screamed. "Fuck me now or get the hell out!" 

For a brief moment, Derek considered taking Thomas up on his bluff and leaving the spoiled blond in his current state, but quickly discarded that notion.  His revenge would be so much sweeter, knowing he had literally and figuratively fucked Thomas Bradford.

Covering his cock with latex and gel, Derek slowly pushed past the guardian muscle and into Thomas’s body.  Once seated, Derek grabbed Thomas’s slender legs under the knees, pressed them back towards the pale body and rode the man beneath him for all he was worth.  This was what he’d been brought here to do and there was nothing kind or gentle about it. He was going to fuck Thomas Bradford into oblivion.   

Over and over, he drove himself into the willing body below him, mindless of what his partner wanted or needed. He buried his face into Thomas’s shoulder and groaned, the intoxicating scent of the blond invading his senses.  Derek only came back to himself when he heard the keening wail of his partner’s completion, and felt a splash of Thomas’s release covering their stomachs. He smiled into the pale shoulder. Thomas had come untouched. Derek's hands were still pressing Thomas’s legs back into his body while his partner’s hands were now raised above his head, fingers twisted in the black satin comforter, knuckles white. 

Derek slid his hands from the crook of Thomas’s knees to the bed and pushed himself off of the body below him. Before Thomas registered what was happening, Derek had flipped him over and slammed his cock back into the molten heat.  

"Fuck!" Thomas screamed, causing Derek to chuckle quietly.

"Not used to being man-handled?" Derek asked as he continued his deep, penetrating strokes, slapping one side of Thomas’s ass for the sheer pleasure of it, earning a moan and a glare from the man beneath him.

“I think you do.” Derek pinned Thomas flat against the sheets and continued to move. Over and over, he plunged his cock into the body beneath him until he felt his orgasm approaching. He pressed his forehead between Thomas’s shoulder blades, his mouth open in an effort to take in more oxygen, his tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat that had covered his partner’s body. When he finally let himself go, Derek filled the condom. He wasn’t sure whose scream he heard - it could have been either of theirs - but it really didn’t matter. He had just fucked the living daylights out of Thomas Bradford, the smug prick who had made his life hell since grade school.

They lay connected for several moments, both trying to control their erratic breathing. Finally, Derek moved away, flopping on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His breathing slowly returned to normal. He felt Thomas slide from the bed and, a few seconds later, heard the sound of a door closing. Derek raised his arm and looked around, spying the telltale strip of light under the door of what he assumed to be the bathroom.  When Thomas still hadn’t returned a few minutes later, Derek disposed of the used condom, gathered his clothes and started to dress. 

"Leaving so soon?" came a voice from the doorway as Derek stepped into his black leather pants.  

"My job here is done," he tossed over his shoulder as he continued to dress.    

"Says who?" Thomas asked as he slowly approached the other man.  "I’m not done with you yet," he said matter-of-factly. 

Derek reached down and grabbed his shirt from the floor. "And I said that I’m in charge, in case you’ve forgotten," he said as he slid his arms into the silk shirt. 

Thomas made his way around to stand in front of Derek.  He slowly lifted his hands to the toned chest, gently brushing over the pebbled nubs. A set of sated eyes peered at his partner from beneath the fringe of blond hair. "I haven’t forgotten. I’m just not ready to let you go yet. I only share my bed once with someone and I plan to make the most of it," he said smugly.

"Oh really?" Derek asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Really," Thomas answered as he slid his hands up to Derek's shoulders and gently pushed the shirt back so that it slid down the sculpted arms to land back on the floor. Long, tapered fingers moved to the waist of the leather pants and slowly unbuttoned them. "I’m not done with you by a long shot."

In no time, Derek was reclining on the leather chaise lounge, watching as his cock disappeared between Thomas’s perfect lips. Blond hair wound tightly around tan fingers as he guided Thomas’s movements. Before he was too far gone, he tightened his grip and pulled the skilled mouth off of him. 

At Thomas’s questioning look, Derek released him and smirked. "Ride me," he said as he stroked himself, but Thomas quickly caught the hand and slid up his partner’s body.   

"With pleasure," Thomas agreed as he reached for the bottle and another condom lying on the floor beside them.  After covering and coating Derek's cock, Thomas moved into position and slid down on the upstanding rod. 

"Fuck, I love your cock," he said as he started to move, his hands gripping Derek's shoulders, eyes closed and his head thrown back, exposing the long column of his neck to Derek's gaze. 

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Derek leaned up and licked a path from Thomas’s sternum to his Adam’s apple, sucking on the nodule for a moment before sliding his lips to the tender skin next to it. Derek alternated between sucking and gently biting Thomas’s neck, grinning when he pulled away to survey his work.    

The blond’s head fell forward and Derek smiled when a pair of soft lips brushed his own. His lips parted willingly as his partner’s tongue invaded the recesses of his mouth. Hands came up to cradle Thomas’s face and then Derek took over.  By the time he finally released the tempting mouth, both were panting, their lips swollen and blood red from the assault.  

Derek splashed a few drops of the lubricant into his hand and reached down to stroke Thomas’s cock, teasing at first, then more insistently.     

Thomas buried his face in the crook of Derek's neck as he gave in to his desires. He groaned as his cock twitched and erupted in Derek's hand, several drops of the milky-white substance landing on his partner’s chest. Derek followed a few minutes later, his own essence filling the snug passage that pulsed around him.  Tan fingers lifted Thomas’s chin and Derek caught the other man's lips in one final kiss.

“You know where the door is,” Thomas said dismissively as he lifted himself off of his partner and disappeared into the restroom once again, leaving Derek alone in the quiet room.  

"I certainly do," Derek said calmly.  After rising from the chaise lounge, he went in search of his clothes.  This time when he dressed, he knew Thomas wouldn’t stop him, and that was just fine with him. He left the bedroom, making his way back down the long hallway and into the living room where he pulled out his cell phone and called a cab.

Arriving back at his own place and slipping into his own skin like a pair of well-loved pajamas, Chase took a quick shower before crawling between cool, crisp sheets. As he drifted off to sleep, he congratulated himself for a job well done.  He had just fucked – and fucked over – not only the son of his father’s fiercest competitor in the business world, but the rival who had made Chase’s own blood boil since childhood. Not that he could brag about it to anyone, but that didn’t even matter – just knowing that he had done it was enough for him.  His mind drifted back to the first time Thomas Bradford had bested him.

Eleven-year old Chase eyed the tournament bracket for his age group – under fourteen - wondering which two players would make it to the finals. He didn't really care who the second name was as long as his name was one of them. The previous year he had made it to the semi-finals, only to be beaten in the last set by someone new to the Weston Lakes Country Club, a blond brat who went by the name of Thomas Bradford.

Chase had won the first set, six games to four, then snagged the first two games of the second set. Bradford had come back and won two of his own, making the second set tied at two apiece. After a somewhat questionable call by the official, Bradford was up three games to two. Chase rallied and won the next two, only to have the blond tie things up at five games each. Angry at himself for not putting the new kid in his place early on, Chase’s attention wandered at the wrong moment and he ended up losing the game, which only angered him further, making him careless. If he lost the next one, he’d be out of the tournament.

When the final point played out, Chase wanted nothing more than to wrap his racket around his cocky opponent's neck. In a play that was more luck than skill, Bradford had somehow returned Chase’s serve, the ball catching on the net and falling immediately to the ground… on Chase’s side. It was a poor play - a mistake - that had turned worked out in Thomas’s favor. There was no way for Chase to get to it since he had been standing on the baseline, ready to return whatever Bradford threw at him. Or so he thought.

Returning to the sidelines expecting to commiserate with his family over the unfair call and even worse luck, Chase had been stunned by his father's heated attack, unable to even summon his voice to defend himself.  After the elder Spencer had stormed off the court, Chase's mother had tried to explain - lost contracts, competition between his father and Mr. Bradford - but all Chase could focus on was the blond on the other side of the court being hugged and congratulated by a tall broad shouldered man with the same white-blond hair.

That was the first of many times they would meet across the expanse of asphalt, and while Chase managed to come out on top on a few occasions, it was Thomas Bradford’s name that dominated the winner’s plaques that graced the walls of the Weston Lakes Tennis Pro Shop - a fact his father never let him forget.

Shaking off the pall of inadequacy that always accompanied thoughts of his childhood, Chase searched his mind for something happy to focus on as he fell asleep.  Inexplicably, his thoughts returned to the look on Thomas’s face as he'd fallen apart under Chase's touch earlier.

READ THE NEXT EXCERPT