Author's Warning: This chapter contains dub-con, male on male sexual scenes, and some vulgar language. If you can't stomach it, skip to the next update. However, that chapter will contain dub-con, hetero sexual scenes, drug usage, some physical abuse, and vulgar language.

In my defense, this is GTA we're talking about.

Author's Additional Note: For those who have been following, there are four San Fierro chapters remaining. And I'll be providing an explanation for Cesar's plotline with Pitbull soon. We'll visit Sweet and his "cellmate" in jail; find out what's going on in Los Santos; and go to Pier 69 for the conclusion of the San Fierro storyline. Stay tuned.

Chapter 14: Jizzy B, Part 1

Cesar's POV:

"Mmm, mi novio, you have no idea how turned on I am when I see you like this," Pitbull teased.

He leaned against the blue walls of the condo in Doherty, which Cesar shared with him and CJ. Pitbull had no shirt on, which was his usual attire inside the condo, but a pair of urban camouflage pants, gray boots, and a Zip Blue watch that suggested he had been out recently. Cesar sighed in vexation and tried to skirt by Pitbull.

In the three weeks that CJ had been absent from his life, Cesar had permitted Pitbull to move in. The half-Dominican prettyboy was thirsting to take the spare bedroom and the sexual accommodations Pitbull anticipated from living in close quarters with Cesar. But the Azteca warrior had defied and maneuvered away every attempt, every flirt, and every opportunity for any sexual contact with Pitbull.

Despite Kendl ignoring his calls, Cesar still loved her and yearned for reconciliation with her. Having Pitbull as a roommate was supposed to help him see things clearly. But the half-Dominican was stubborn.

Cesar hadn't anticipated that Pitbull would linger outside the bathroom until the leaner man was finished with his morning shower. "I keep telling you not call me that, pendejo."

"Que pasa, Cesar?" Pitbull placed his large brown right hand on the door frame of Cesar's bedroom, so low that his arm blocked Cesar from entering. "We live together. What does that make us?"

"We just roommates, Rafael, I don't want you. Mi amor, mi corazon, that belongs to Kendl."

Cesar ducked to pass under Pitbull's outstretched arm and felt a tug on the back of the red cotton towel wrapped around his slim, six-pack lined waist. Cesar tightened his grasp on the towel, and ended up pressed against the hallway wall opposite the bathroom. Pitbull spun Cesar around so that his face was pressed against the wall. With no gun or blade on him and the half-Dominican's clear advantage in height and weight, Cesar faced his own helplessness.

His body began to respond against Cesar's will. Even as he arched his back away from Pitbull's massive body, Cesar lusted for the bigger man's touch as evidenced by the hardening of his member against the softness of the towel around his slim body. Pitbull's hands roamed sensually up his torso and stopped at his nipples to force Cesar backward, closer to him. 'Quehonda, Cesar? Fight back!' he thought resentfully.

Cesar's muscles tensed against Pitbull's seduction. "No contraaco, mi amor," Pitbull whispered against the lean Latino's neck. "Give into me." His callused hands began to tweak Cesar's nipples and his lips zoomed toward Cesar's lips for a kiss.

He turned his head so that Pitbull's lips only brushed against his cheek. Cesar tried against to push Pitbull off him, but the bigger half-Dominican tightened the grip of his hands around the lean Azteca warrior. In triumph, he suckled on Cesar's left earlobe while pressing his heavy erection against Cesar's cloth-covered hips. Cesar redoubled his efforts to resist, but the smaller gangsta couldn't break free of the half-Dominican's punishing embrace around his torso.

His kicks landed uselessly on Pitbull's boot-clad feet. Cesar's tattoed biceps were twigs compared to the cannonballs on Pitbull's upper arms. The lean Latino couldn't even resist the reactions his body had to Pitbull's warm breath ghosting upon his skin. It had been months since Cesar had been close to a woman, much less had sex with one, and Pitbull was doing everything in his power to arouse the slim Mexican. It was like he was a kid again, with Rico trapping him behind the big farmhouse in Texas.

"Rafael, get the fuck off me, stop." Cesar despised the pleading tone of his voice more than he hated his manhood for rising to throbbing hardness under Pitbull's foreplay. His body had needs, but his voice betrayed weakness. As Pitbull's left hand slipped beneath the cotton of the towel, Cesar renewed his struggle. "Let me go, pendejo!"

"You know you like it," Pitbull whispered.

"HIJOPUTA! Get off me!"

Pitbull's hand glided along Cesar's bare, damp, muscled torso in a titillating trace of the trail of hair leading from Cesar's bellybutton to his aching, needy manhood. Then it dipped beneath the towel once again. "Chinga tu madre, cabrón! Get OFF!"

Cesar winced as Pitbull's large callused hand wrapped around his engorged length. His hungry body lustfully surrendered to the slow, teasing stroke Pitbull delivered. Cesar's breath shuddered and his eyes closed in a sense of ecstasy. It had been a long time since anyone else had touched his manhood.

"I think you like it, mi amante," Pitbull whispered into Cesar's ear. His strokes were fast but tender. "You chose me over that puta negra. You let me live here even when you knew what I wanted. I think…" Pitbull leaned his head on the back of Cesar's neck and ground his hips into the lean Latino's backside. "I think what you want to say is, 'Get me off, hijoputa.' And I will do that."

Cesar's fighting spirit was extinguished as Pitbull's hand tightened around his manhood and stroked faster. He closed his ears to the guttural words the half-Dominican unleashed in broken English and shut his eyes to the wall shamefully close to his face. Only his body's sense of touch would not cooperate against the caress of Pitbull's hand and the humping of Pitbull's pelvis. Pitbull's hand wrapped around his member felt like bliss on earth, but the lean Latino would not allow a moan, gasp, or even a word of pleasure to escape his lips.

As the moment neared, Pitbull remained quite vocal.

"Novio, how I want to taste your beautiful carajo again….Remember that night in El Corona when I hid behind your house, when tu familia came to visit, you walked out for a smoke and I waited in the bushes?...Muy delicioso….I miss your leche pouring down my throat….Give me your leche again…."

His words had Cesar spilling pre-ejaculate on his large hand. The smaller Latino, with his eyes still closed, reached back and grabbed Pitbull's firm, sweatpants-clad backside and pulled Pitbull's body closer to him. Pitbull's blue eyes finally closed in rapture. "Oh mi amor." He lowered his head to latch his full lips onto Cesar's left nipple.

The suckle of Pitbull's wet, lascivious mouth was enough for Cesar. With a heady cry he suppressed by biting his small pink lips, the lean Latino ejaculated into his towel. Pitbull moaned and ground out his ejaculation against Cesar's butt.

As they leaned against each other in their first post-orgasm glow together in eight months, Cesar realized his phone was ringing. He pushed Pitbull's limp, sated body away and dashed into his room. Revulsion did not begin to describe Cesar's feelings at that moment. Pitbull gaped at Cesar with wide, wounded sapphire eyes, but the Azteca warrior offered no succor as he slammed and locked his bedroom door.

He picked up his phone from the dresser. "Hola," Cesar croaked.

"Ceese, you alright?"

"Yeah CJ, muy bueno. Que pasa?"

"Woozie wants to meet us at the garage."

"Alright, I'll be there in ten."

"Ay, Cesar! Woozie and his crew just got here!" CJ yelled out the office door.

"Alright homes, I'm coming." Cesar had arrived at the garage an hour earlier, after another cleansing shower, and found a vibrant blue Washington in need of a new alternator. He had embarked on assisting Dwaine until Wu Xi Mu arrived. Tossing the ratchet to the shaggy blond mechanic, Cesar said, "See if you can get the last screw loose on that oil filter too, alright? Looks to me like the owner hasn't changed it."

"You got it boss."

Cesar strode toward the office door still dressed in his blue Zip khakis and a spotless white tank. He massaged a knot that had developed from that morning. Then he stopped as he felt the warm caress of Pitbull's breath on the back of his neck.

'Forget it, Cesar. It was just a one-time thing. You don't go that way.'

He entered the office with a fake smile on his face. "Hey Cesar, you remember Woozie, right?"

The tall Asian man held out his hand to shake. Cesar was impressed by the flawless, tasteful appearance of Wu Xi Mu and his three Chinese associates. Growing up in El Corona, he had never seen a Chinese person who wasn't a cook in a Szechuan restaurant. Wu Xi Mu and his bodyguards carried themselves with the posture of businessmen in their identical, single-breasted black suits, black silk shirts, and black silk ties. Their spats were uniformly black and gleamed like mirrors. Wu Xi Mu, their leader, stood a head taller than his bodyguards and had a distinguished streak of gray amid his straight jet black hair.

Cesar chose his usual taciturnity in order to better replicate their demeanor.

"It's good to see the two of you again," Wu Xi Mu greeted the gangstas.

"Likewise," responded CJ.

"So, what can we do for you today, gentlemen?"

CJ pointed out three blown-up photos pinned to the wall behind the desk. "We spotted these dope pushers at a meet down in Angel Pine two days ago, and we was hopin' you could I.D. them for us?"

Wu Xi Mu motioned with his left hand, and one of his bodyguards, a stocky man with a thick, muscular neck, stepped forward to examine the pictures. "This is Giu Pi. For lack of a better term, he is what you would call my lieutenant. He knows most of the movers and shakers of San Fierro, as well as a few members of the criminal element."

'Guppy? Woozie? Man, no wonder these guys dress how they do. If they didn't, some chota would burst out laughing when they hear their names.'

"This one is T-Bone Mendez, leader of the San Fierro Rifa." Giu Pi pointed at the photo of the musclebound, heavily tattoed Hispanic gangsta.

"Yeah, we know that," Cesar interjected, "but what was he doing with the yay?"

Giu Pi glanced irritably at the Azteca warrior. "San Fierro Rifa used to control just Garcia, but a couple of years ago, they waged war on the Da Nang Boys, the local Vietnamese gang. When the war was over, Rifa controlled Garcia, South Doherty, the docks, and the airport.

"Rifa was trying to control the freight routes," CJ concluded, stroking his goatee.

"And they succeeded for the most part," Wu Xi Mu supplied, "which is probably why T-Bone would be an asset to the Syndicate."

"The Syndicate? What's the Syndicate?"

Giu Pi tapped the photo of the nattily dressed White man. "That's Mike Toreno. Wealthy businessman turned blow dealer. From what we know, he and Mendez partnered up to bring crack into San Fierro from the fields of Colombia. They approached us, but we don't touch blow."

Cesar deciphered that comment to mean the Triads. He glanced at the remaining three pictures. "Ryder and Smoke came to the Locos for a supply. Who's this guy?" Cesar rapped on the picture of the Black man in the ostentatious suit.

"That's Jizzy B. He owns a strip club called the Pleasure Domes in Battery Point. He's also an indiscriminate pimp."

"So that's this whole operation," CJ assessed. "Toreno buys the yay, and Mendez gets it into San Fierro. Toreno probably refines it somewhere, then Ryder buys it up for the LS and Jizzy buys it up for San Fierro. Bet they all rollin' in the dough. I say let's bust up this crack ring and take their fuckin' money."

"Whoa, homes," Cesar interjected, "this ain't no turf war. This is a big time operation. We need some kinda plan, carnal?"

"He's right," Wu Xi Mu added. "The Triads do not approve of what the Locos do, but the threat of all-out gang war on a second front is a risk we can't afford to take."

"Alright." CJ rubbed his meaty hands together impatiently. "What do you kats suggest?"

"Let's go in low-key, infiltrate their operation like undercover cops or something." Cesar tapped Jizzy B.'s picture. "This cucaracha here, he's the weak link. He's our way into the operation."