Burn this City by Aleksandr Voinov
33
Your password has been changed. Please notify us immediately if that wasn’t you.
Sal saw the alert pop on up the laptop screen. He’d been restless after briefing Spadaro with Enzo until deep into the night. It was somewhat pathetic that he’d kept Jack’s laptop close, telling himself that if the man got any important emails, he should be aware of it. But apparently one of the first things Jack did to reestablish his life was to log into his favorite porn site and change his password.
Sal pulled the laptop closer. Yep, he’d been logged out. Same with email. That meant Jack was online, and Sal had a good idea where he was right that minute. He closed the laptop, pulled up the site on his tablet and logged into the business end of the site. He’d flagged Jack’s account immediately, and yes, there he was, browsing new recommendations to help him relax after the weekend he’d had.
Torn between just glancing over Jack’s shoulder and telling him he was watching, a third option won out. The “social” features of the website were strictly opt-in and limited, enough to have people recommend videos to each other and allow them to take part in bidding and buying the special content.
And as “admin”, Sal could do pretty much whatever the fuck he pleased—including manipulate what videos Jack got to see on the site. So he uploaded one of his private videos for Jack alone. Nobody else would get to see it, and it would be deleted off the site after playing. He pushed the video into Jack’s “recommended for you” sidebar and sent him an alert. There was always a small chance the site might be hacked at that very instant (though Sal could almost rule out that Jack knew how to do it), and the download function was blocked. He sat up in bed, grinning to himself while he waited for his favorite subscriber to take the lovingly prepared bait.
And he did. He’d been sampling a few short videos, but apparently nothing had quite appealed to him, because he went to the top-rated recommendation. And watched all fifteen minutes of it, which pleased Sal enormously. He’d gotten a lot better at blowjobs since then. Despite the tagging, it hadn’t been the first one he’d ever given. But a bit of play-acting had spiced things up, and the man he’d blown had been happy to play along.
The video and the making of it were perfectly consensual in every way. He’d moved from pretending to be hesitant, to truly enjoying it, to downright greedy over those fifteen minutes, and the fact that the man’s cock was absolutely beautiful certainly hadn’t hurt. Sal looked a little younger in it—he’d been clean-shaven because Catia had complained about beard burn—but he hadn’t changed that much.
As far as online flirting went, it wasn’t quite “dick pic” level, except it totally felt like it. Sal reached for Jack’s phone and used it to text Jack’s new number: Glad you liked the show. I have a lot more, and plenty of fresh ideas.
A text buzzed: How?
I know my way around computers. Also, I have a backstage pass to that site.
Nothing. Jack was still logged in, but marked inactive. Probably getting his head around the new situation, and Sal couldn’t help laughing. He shouldn’t be so gleeful about these games, but he was, and he did have plenty of ideas, and Jack hadn’t told him to stop.
Then: But I changed my password.
No point. And no, nobody else can see this and connect it to you. No need to freak out and run away. Keep enjoying the site.
You shot amateur porn?
I’ll tell you the story someday. This video is going away now, but I have more. If he told Jack how many more, he might be shocked. It was one of those things that people should be eased into slowly, if at all. Though his guess was that, since Jack’s whole sexuality had focused only on porn, he appreciated it for what it was.
Not sure I can take more.
Sal laughed. With anybody else, he’d have called and ramped up the teasing, but he didn’t want to steamroll Jack, and yet, he did want to drive him out of his mind and then show him that watching wasn’t nearly as intense as actually involving another person in his orgasm. At least now Jack had a pretty good idea how Sal gave head.
He shared another one the same way.
Feel free to go at your own pace.
No response, and Jack remained “inactive” on the site, but when Sal checked the next morning, that video had been watched and then deleted itself.
No text messages, of course, and considering Jack’s online habits, all texts had been deleted and erased. He wasn’t the kind of person to send an explicit photo back to prove how much he’d enjoyed the clips, unlike other guys Sal had hooked up with. But how circumspect Jack was about the whole thing, while clearly being more inexperienced than prudish, was terribly endearing. It made Sal smile as he stood in the bathroom, getting ready to—finally—kill some people.