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Like a Dog (Cult of the Butterfly 3)

By Paul Smith.



Like a Dog (Cult of the Butterfly 3)

Paul Smith

Copyright 2017 Paul Smith

Smashwords Edition.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.

ISBN: 9781370003662

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'For days-be-strange.'


Author's Note:

This chapter includes explicit guy on guy action. Don’t say I didn’t warn you...

Devan shivered as he stepped back out into the evening air. Spared a brief glance for the building stood behind him huddled amidst the surrounding apartment blocks before setting off up the street. Thomas’ church sat in the middle of Highgate, one of the old inner city suburbs that had seen better days. The Insurgency had not been kind to the place, leaving it in desperate need of some financial input. But with the city’s fat cats moving out of town following the unrest, the city council had decided the cash might be better splashed elsewhere. So now the district belonged to those who needed easy access to the city’s central and commercial districts but couldn’t afford the likes of Sunrise heights or the Copse.

It wasn’t a bad area: crime wasn’t particularly higher than elsewhere, but then that wasn’t saying a great deal in a city whose soul was so tarnished he suspected even Jesus would have a hard time scrubbing it up.

Time to bring out the marigolds mate.

Grinning, he headed up the street, plugging earphones in as he went. Bit of Bletchley I think.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets he made for the end of the street, ignoring the crossing as he headed north for the end of Dipong. Across the tea gardens the Western Line curved in to skirt the head of the square before turning north towards Shizilu Station, where he could change for the Suburban.

The tail end of rush hour was still littering the platform as he arrived, slipping between men and women dressed for the office. The tea gardens were a popular stop off for those who didn’t have to rush home, or had palms to grease away from their boss’s all seeing eye, so he only just made it onto the next train that pulled in. Spent the entire ride stuck between a couple of youngsters in the latest Chen Tza broadcloth, and a pair of nurses heading in for the night shift. He smiled at the nurses, rolling his eyes with them when one of the suit’s crasser comments penetrated Bletchley’s low drawl. Gestured them out first as their ride pitched up on the satellite platforms which ran down Shi’s western edge. Disembarked himself, leaving the youngsters to their dodgy politics as he crossed to survey the board.

Hmm, half an hour ‘til the next one.

A slow smile spread across his face. Turning, he made his way casually towards the far end of the platform, where a set of broad stairs led down towards the gents.


The door swung open as he reached the bottom of the steps. Brief impression of stubble and questioning eyes as they passed each other. He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, but the other guy was already half way up the stairs.


Shrugging, he pushed on into the dim interior. A set of barriers that hadn’t worked since he’d been frequenting the place led to a short corridor that forked left and right. Left for cubicles, right for the urinals.

He turned right, hand in his pocket thumbing his music to silence before squeezing the swelling already started there. In many ways this was the best part: the delicious anticipation before you stepped through the door and those dice you’d thrown came to rest…

Grimy sinks dominated one side of the room, a line of a dozen or so individual urinals the other. Of these just over half were occupied, which he found something of a surprise given the time. Two of those were already engaged, from the furtive snatch of hands back where they should be as he entered. Sullen glances shot his way, the youngster in the power suit offering a slight smile before he and the grizzled hipster next to him went back to business. Devan grinned, sidling up to the far end where a student-type with his hand stuffed down the front of his shorts was peering about surreptitiously from beneath his hood. The rent on the end offered him a nod of recognition as he unzipped before studiously ignoring him again. He likewise had headphones in, was probably waiting on some prearranged rendezvous.

Pulling himself out (with an effort) Devan let it hang for a bit. Quick glances from shorts confirmed he had his attention as a healthy stream of piss emerged. He’d drunk a whole bottle of water on the way from the office to see Tom, and it’d been at least partially responsible for the lump in his pants for the last few stops. Urine gushed, blood flow slowly abating with it so that by the time he’d finished he was mostly flaccid again. Not that that made a great deal of difference in this heat. He was most definitely a shower, not a grower, except in very rare circumstances. A couple of extra inches. Certainly an appreciable increase in girth. But what you saw is what you pretty much got. Which was fine in this sort of situation.

Another suit walked in, prompting the kid to jump, but Dev didn’t even flinch, well aware that at this time of night the chances of it being anybody actually after a piss were fairly slim. He glanced up, seeing muscles straining against broadcloth. The hint of body art peering above his collar line. Buttocks like fists strained against the silk of his trousers as he took the urinal on the kid’s far side, popping out a cock like the horn of an angry bull.

Well, someone’s got himself all worked up in the boardroom this afternoon.

He glanced about, clocking the meat already swelling between Devan’s idle fingers. Devan smirked to himself, began to massage gently in answer to the bulls commanding strokes, enjoying the look of fascination this engendered from the kid between them.

Then shorts pulled out what he had and suddenly Devan was holding a rock in his hand. The bull looked like Christmas had come early, began masturbating vigorously, glans swelling a fat, straining purple. Devan’s own orgasm was starting to rise but he held it in check, keeping his rhythm calm about the thick rod of his own arousal. Next to him shorts was licking his fingers, playing them about the rim of his own glans, below it, leaving a trace of saliva that made the distended skin of his shaft glisten.

Bull came, hips jerking in three quick thrusts as his load shot onto the porcelain before him. Devan almost laughed at the ruddy satisfaction on his face. They made eye contact before the other man zipped up, leaving them to it.

A bit of privacy I think.

He squeezed up the length of his shaft, enjoying the delicious vibration this produced. A bead of precum emerged, and he captured it with a finger, bringing it to his lips. Took a chance and reached across to touch the throbbing monstrosity now in the kid’s hands.

Their eyes met, and Devan stepped back, stuffing himself back in and walking out. Headed across to the cubicles, pushing doors until he found one free. Glanced over his shoulder to check his quarry was indeed following.

Right on queue. Looking slightly unsure. Devan gestured him in ahead, closed the door behind them and locked it. Turned to find the guy stood there uncertainly.

Aw, bless him…

He pulled out his own cock, fingers massaging as he smiled encouragement. Shorts took the cue, followed suit, tentative smile of his own touching lips like cherries in cream. Pushed the shock of his hair back and opened his mouth as Devan stepped in for a kiss. Lost himself for a while in warm, wet darkness.

Came up for air with their hands on each other’s erections, shorts’ soft fingers insistent as they worked his foreskin, pulling fire out through his belly into his loins.

Not yet…

A staying hand paused those fingers in their work. Shorts shot him a questioning look of concern, but Devan grinned, knelt (despite his better judgement) on the damp floor to swallow glans, shaft, throat working as he took him in up to the balls, lips kissing scrotum. Surprised gasps were accompanied by bucking hips, so he worked it for a few moments before pulling back, inhaling gustily round a grin as he looked up into wide eyes.


Shorts nodded, fingers reaching up beneath his top towards his nipples, exposing a washboard stomach and that classic v of muscle above the groin. Devan grinned, working his tongue to produce more saliva before taking it in again, slowly this time, savouring the sensation of pliant thickness turning hard and immobile as it slid down his throat. With one hand he grasped the kid’s pendulous balls, the other going for his own throbbing length as he worked them both towards climax.

Orgasm was explosive satisfaction. A release as fine as only unexpected sex can be. He stood, kneading the last dregs out of his own dick, grinning like a fool. Saw the expression mirrored in short’s eyes. Stuffed himself back in his trousers and leant in for a peck on the cheek before turning for the door. Glanced back to receive a nod from shorts.

See you around.”

Devan nodded, surprised at the timbre of the younger man’s voice. He’d have expected tenor rather than that slightly hollow baritone.

Winking, he made his exit, taking the steps two at a time as he heard his train pulling in above.


I’m home…?!” He pulled out his headphones, cocking his head and grinning at the sudden scrabble of claws on hardwood. “Rus!” Scooped the tiny bundle of energy up to ruffle it’s ears, grinning at the excited yapping that ensued. “Where’s Daddy, eh? Where’s your Dad?”

The tiny dog barked enthusiastically, tail wagging furiously as he attempted to burrow into the depths of Devan’s armpit. “Hey! Seriously dude, I don’t stink that much. Come on.” He deposited the ball of excitement back on the floor. “You need to go out?”

The dog sat abruptly, tail wagging. Yapped once.

Well ok then. Come on.” He strode down the entrance hall, crossing the lounge at the far end to unlock the patio doors. A fresh bout of yapping was followed by a swift exit onto the decking and down into the garden proper beyond. Devan grinned, shaking his head as he turned, leaving the door ajar as he headed for the open plan kitchen. Deposited the bundle of his phone and headphones onto the counter as he headed for the fridge. It’s light spilled out into the darkened room as he surveyed the contents, torn.

Fuck it.

Reaching in, he removed a beer, twisting the top off as he closed the door once more. Flicked the under cabinet lights on to keep the deepening twilight at bay. Took a long swallow from the bottle, sighing contentedly as he leant back against the counter.

Ah ha.

Reached across for the note pinned to the fridge. “‘Gone fishing. Be back tomorrow.’”

So, trade.

Devan grinned, shaking his head. Mitchel was the epitome of the gay bachelor, always on the lookout for the next bit of fun. The fact he was rich and fairly well hung just compounded the situation.

There really is no hope for you my friend.

Mitch was adamant that he would eventually settle down, but in his mid forties there was little sign of that yet happening. A situation not helped by the string of fit young men who seemed to find his particular blend of confident charm irresistible. This, combined with his job (he’d taken the same step as many ageing recording artists and gone from musician to producer at his own label) meant that Devan got the house to himself a lot of the time.

Well, mostly… he amended, as Rus came charging in to do a lap around the lounge before exiting once again. The chihuahua ostensibly belonged to Mitch, but in practicality Devan took care of him as often as not. A reality that didn’t seem to bother the tiny canine in the slightest. It was an arrangement that suited both men entirely. Their work and social lives kept them busy at different times, so that they probably only shared the living space two or three times a week.

Not that that’s a chore… he considered, surveying the spacious lounge. The other advantage of them both being on good money: their house, though out in the suburbs, was at least twice the size of Carlton and Drew’s flat, and that wasn’t tiny.

Right, time for a shower. Striping off the tee he’d been wearing he opened the washer and threw it in, grabbing his beer as he headed for the stairs.

A couple of hours later he opened the fridge to fish out his second beer. Dinner and the resultant dishes were done. Bletchley’s croon had been swapped for the liquid synths of Lipid Shock on the stereo and Rus was snoozing in his bed after his walk. Flipping the kitchen light off, Devan skirted the breakfast bar and crossed into the lounge, collapsing into the recliner that served them as an office chair. The desktop sensed his presence, chirping to life with a quiet whir of fans. He proffered his palm in the cams general direction and the computer piped a greeting in response, light unfolding on the monitor as he set up his key space. Lounging back he flicked the browser icon, waiting as it cycled into being.

Time to see what the wider world has to say.”

The Glade forums were abuzz with the Queen’s birthday. Likewise the coven sites. Merran had clearly jizzed all over their own VPN with (Devan was amused to see) a variety of pics that just happened to include Sebastian’s blond mop lurking in the background.

Cheeky, but not without precedence, he mused, remembering his own introduction to the sisterhood.

He completed the expected round of validation, thumbing hearts and stars as site appropriate. Paused to grin at a particularly saucy comment from Swan. Offered a pointed response about thorns in uncomfortable places.

Last on the list was the art commune he frequented. Plucking the offending snaps from his phone he flicked them across to the main screen, finessing the order into something more pleasingly narrative before thumbing the post button. His inbox contained responses from two of his regular correspondents. One was thanks for a recent critique he’d offered, the other part of an ongoing conversation with the young poet from across the water he’d been chatting to. The guy’s poetry was intricately beautiful, and though much of it was quite dark there was often a glimmer of hope at its heart, like a night sky shot threw with starlight.

Don’t worry, it’s going to be ok’ read the tagline on his profile. Seeing it never failed to make Devan smile.

The door went. Leaning back in the chair he raised an eyebrow, grinning at the expression on Mitch’s face as he entered the lounge.

That went well then?”

Mitch grabbed a beer from the fridge, pulling a face as he dropped his keys onto the breakfast counter.

Not quite what you were expecting?”

Not really.” Mitch took a long pull from the bottle, lips smacking in appreciation. “Wish people wouldn’t piss about like that online. I hate fucking time wasters.”

Devan nodded, tapped the send button on his response before closing everything down with a casual wave. “The joys of online anonymity.”

Mitch growled. “Yeah, but that only works up until you agree to meet someone.” Crossing to the lounge he dropped onto the couch with a sigh of relief, glancing at the unresponsive Rus. “Hello to you too, flea bag.”

Leave him alone, he’s had a hard day.”

Hard day my arse. You let him out?”

Took him for a walk too.”

My he has been spoilt!” Mitch raised his bottle in a toast. “Thank you.”

No bother. Meant I could justify desert.”

Mitch chortled. “I was wondering why you were looking like the cat that got the cream.”

Oh dear, am I still smirking? He debated schooling his features, but it was a pointless exercise round a bloodhound like Mitch.

So, your day go ok?” Mitch asked.

Closed the deal on the Santiagos place. And been speaking to Swan about spaces for the upcoming equinox event.”

I still say go with the carpark. It’s got the right sort of vibe for what he’s intending.”

Devan nodded. “I’m inclined to agree, but you know what he’s like. Digging his heels in to see if we cough up a better offer.”

Mitch laughed. “The joys of doing business with the ancient.” He took a long swig, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “You get a lift home?”

Nah, had to swing by a friend on the way.”

Mitch’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “That friend live on platform fourteen by any chance?”

Bingo. “I may have had to wait for the suburban...”

Mitch’s laugh was full bodied and ribald. Devan found himself grinning along, blushing for some reason like a school boy.

Well, at least one of us got lucky,” the other man offered, hoisting himself to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Devan nodded. “There’s the new episodes of Rain?”

It’s a date.” Mitch stood, leaning down to scratch behind the chihuahua’s ears. Groaned as he straightened to head for the stairs. “Might want to put some ear plugs in if you’re coming up.”

Too much information!” Devan called after him, receiving a finger in response as Mitch mounted the stairs. Smiling he went to put away the dishes.

A disgruntled noise drew his attention to the dog’s bed. He peered over the counter. “I’m sorry, did I disturb someone?”

Rus snuffled low in his throat. Devan blinked, flipping to peer across at the otherside. The canine monstrosity there cracked one smoking green eye at him, head like a small convertible shifting on its forepaws. He blinked back before his mind could put too much effort into spatial reconciliation. It’d only give him a migrane.

Finishing up, Devan flipped the light out as he headed for the stairs.

Later dude.”

Another snuffle followed him upstairs to bed, and thoughts of what the following evening had in store.

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