Tom Brody
The sunlight filtered through the blinds in sharp, angry slats, piercing the darkness of Austin’s bedroom like accusing fingers. He woke with a start, his heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs, his skin sheened in a cold, clammy sweat. For a disorienting moment, he wasn’t in his own bed, safe and alone; he was back in his old bedroom, on the dirty mattress, ejaculate dripping from his ass, the smell of alcohol and the weight of Mike's hand on his shoulder as the man climbed off him. Austin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the sensory memory, but the residue of the nightmare clung to him like a second skin. It had been years since he’d lived through it, but the abuse at the hands of Uncle Mike was a wound that never truly healed; it just scabbed over, waiting for the right moment to tear open again.
He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and burying his face in his hands. The day before had been a disaster. He’d gone home with Mason, a nice enough man, but something he had done sent panic through Austin’s system. He’d had to get away, flee the apartment even though he had no clothing.
That was the pattern; Austin suddenly realized that every time he sought out that hyper-masculine energy, the kind of man who wanted to consume him, he was unwittingly recreating the dynamic of his abuse. He was walking back into the lion's den, expecting the lion to cuddle him, and walking out with fresh claws marks on his back.
He wanted to go back to Mason and explain, but he knew that somehow he would just succumb to his desire to be taken by Mason and only repeat the trauma.
As the adrenaline of the nightmare faded, leaving him hollow and exhausted, a strange clarity began to settle over him. He stood up and walked to the mirror, staring at his reflection. He saw the tension in his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes, but he also saw the strength. He realized that the appeal of those dominant men wasn't wrong in itself; biologically, he was still drawn to that raw power, but acting on it was psychological self-sabotage. When he let a man take charge, when he let himself be the one pinned down and controlled, he was handing a loaded gun to his subconscious. His brain didn't know the difference between a consensual scene and Uncle Mike taking him without his permission. It just registered loss of control and threat, and it reacted with panic and dissociation.
The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. He couldn't change what happened to him, and he couldn't easily rewrite the triggers that were now hardwired into his psyche. But he could change the scenario. If dominance was the trigger, then the antidote wasn't abstinence; it was reversal. Austin looked at himself in the mirror, his posture straightening. He needed to flip the script. He needed to be the one doing the pinning, the one calling the shots. By choosing men who were naturally submissive, men like the shy, sweet guy he’d taken a few months ago. Shit, Austin thought, what was his name? He needed someone soft, yielding. With that, he could construct a reality where he was never the victim.
Maybe it wasn't exactly a healthy coping mechanism, and a small, cynical voice in the back of his mind knew he was just bandaging a bullet wound instead of removing the bullet. He was distracting himself, using control as a shield against the memory of helplessness. If he was always the one in charge, the one holding the reins, then the bad memories couldn't touch him. He was essentially constructing a fortress out of other people's submission. But staring at his reflection, Austin didn't fully realize the long-term psychological ramifications. He just wanted to get through the day without feeling like he was drowning. He wanted to feel powerful, not powerless. He turned away from the mirror, the earlier dread replaced by a steely resolve. He was done being the prey. From now on, he would be the predator every time. Or so he thought.
The mid-morning sun beat down on the asphalt, shimmering in waves of heat that distorted the horizon. Austin adjusted his sunglasses, gripping the steering wheel of his sedan as he navigated the suburban streets. His destination was the thrift store. It was within a half hour’s walking distance, but if he found a good sewing machine, he didn’t want to lug it all the way home.
But first, the parched dryness in the back of his throat demanded attention. He needed a root beer. An A&W, specifically. Nothing else quite hit the spot like that distinctive sarsaparilla sweetness.
He spotted the convenience store attached to a gas station and flicked on his blinker. As he steered the car into the parking lot, his eyes drifted toward a cluster of men loitering near a battered pickup truck parked at the far end. They were the classic archetype of construction workers, dust-covered jeans, heavy boots, fluorescent vests that had faded under the sun, and arms that looked like they could wrestle a bear into submission.
Austin felt that familiar, automatic tug of attraction. It was visceral, the way his body responded to the display of raw masculinity. One of them, a man with a thick beard and a hard hat dangling from his belt loop, laughed loudly at something his friend said, throwing his head back. Austin watched the stretch of his neck, the sweat trickling down his temple.
He pulled into a parking space closer to the entrance and put the car in park. But before he could get out, he closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He needed to check himself. He knew this pattern well. The rugged, dominant types were exciting to look at, sure, but they were rarely what he actually needed in the long run. They often brought too much ego, too much aggression, or a complete inability to let go of control.
No, he told himself firmly. You know what you want. You want someone who yields. Someone who looks at you like you’re the only thing holding them up.
He opened his eyes, banished the thought of the construction workers from his mind, and stepped out of the car. He walked past the group without making eye contact, ignoring the low hum of their conversation as he pushed open the glass door of the store. A blast of aggressive air conditioning hit him, cooling the sweat on his brow.
The store was brightly lit and smelled faintly of floor cleaner and old coffee. Austin headed straight for the coolers at the back, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum tiles. He scanned the rows of sodas until he found the distinctive A&W logo. He reached for the plastic bottle, the condensation cold against his fingertips. Did they really taste batter when they were in glass, or was that simply a mind trick?
As he pulled the bottle from the shelf, he felt a pair of eyes on him. It wasn't a paranoid feeling; it was a distinct, heavy sensation of being watched. He turned his head slowly, scanning the aisle.
Near the snack section, standing in front of a vast wall of potato chips, stood a man. He was holding a large, crinkling bag of Sour Cream and Onion, but he wasn't looking at the chips. He was looking over his shoulder, straight at Austin.
Austin paused, taking the man in. He was roughly Austin's height, perhaps an inch or two shorter, but significantly thinner. He had a lanky build, the kind of leanness that suggested a high metabolism rather than any time spent at the gym. He was wearing a faded graphic t-shirt that featured a retro gaming logo and loose cargo shorts that hung off his narrow hips. His hair was a messy shock of brown, slightly curly, and he wore glasses that slid down his nose just a little.
When their eyes met, the man flinched, as if shocked he’d been caught staring. He quickly turned his face back toward the chips, but the damage was done. A flush of red, bright and unmistakable, crept up his neck and suffused his cheeks.
Austin suppressed a smile. This was exactly the type. The shyness, the awkwardness, the immediate physiological reaction to being noticed. It was adorable.
Austin walked slowly down the aisle, the glass bottle clutched in his hand like a prop. He didn't pretend to look for anything else; he moved directly toward the chip aisle. As he drew closer, the man shifted his weight nervously, his grip tightening on the bag of chips.
Austin stopped a few feet away, turning his body fully toward him. The man glanced sideways, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, terrified but unable to run.
"Hey," Austin said, his voice low and smooth.
"H-Hi," the man stammered. He cleared his throat, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson.
"Tough decision?" Austin asked, nodding his chin toward the wall of chips.
"Uh, yeah," the man managed. "I can never decide between these and... um... the BBQ ones."
Austin let the silence hang for a moment, just watching him. He enjoyed the way the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. The air between them felt charged, electric with tension that the other man clearly didn't know how to handle.
Austin took a step closer, invading the man's personal space just enough to make him tense up. "You have really nice eyes," Austin said softly.
The man blinked rapidly, his mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. He looked down at his sneakers, then back up at Austin, completely flustered. "Th-thanks," he whispered.
Austin grinned. He felt the power dynamic shift instantly. He was the anchor here, and this guy was the ship drifting aimlessly at sea. Austin leaned in, unable to resist. He walked past the man, his shoulder brushing against the other man's arm, and paused right next to his ear.
"Meet you outside," he whispered.
He didn't wait for a response. He didn't look back. He just continued walking toward the counter, enjoying the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He placed the root beer on the counter. The cashier, a bored-looking teenager, scanned it without looking up. Austin paid, dropped the change into the tip jar, and walked out into the heat.
He leaned back against the brick wall of the store, popping the cap off the root beer. He took a long sip, the cold liquid bubbling down his throat, and waited. He checked his watch. Two minutes passed. Then three.
He wondered if he’d misread the situation. Maybe the guy was just shy and not interested. Maybe the panic in his eyes was genuine fear and not arousal. Austin took another sip, preparing himself for the disappointment of leaving alone.
But then, the glass door opened.
The man walked out, shielding his eyes against the sun. He scanned the parking lot, his gaze landing on Austin. He hesitated for a second on the sidewalk, clutching his bag of chips like a shield, before he tentatively walked over.
"Hi," the man said again. He seemed stuck on that word.
"Hi," Austin replied, pushing himself off the wall. He stood up to his full height, noticing again how the other man seemed to shrink slightly in his presence. "I'm Austin."
"Tom Brody," the man said. He shuffled his feet. "I... um... I didn't mean to stare back there."
Austin smiled, charmed by the honesty. "It's okay. I didn't mind."
Tom looked down at his chips, then back up. His face was still flushed, though the sun was probably doing half the work now. "You have plans for this afternoon?" Austin asked, keeping his tone casual. It was a fishing expedition, but he felt pretty confident about the bait.
"I was going to go home and play video games," Tom said quickly. "I got a new beta build yesterday and I need to—"
"Want company?" Austin cut in gently.
Tom’s eyes went wide. He looked around the parking lot, as if checking to see if this was a prank. "You... you want to come over?"
"I do," Austin said, stepping closer again. He loved how easy this was. He loved how pliable Tom seemed. "Unless you'd rather be alone?"
Tom turned red again, that delightful shade of beet red that started at his collarbone and worked its way up. "No, I mean... sure. You can come over."
"Need a ride to your place? Or are you walking?"
"It's not far," Tom said, pointing vaguely down the street. "Just two blocks that way. I walked."
"I have my car," Austin said. He gestured toward his sedan. "Come on. We can take my car."
Tom nodded, seemingly overwhelmed by Austin's assertiveness. "Okay. Yeah. That works."
They walked to the car. Austin opened the passenger door for Tom, who mumbled a thank you as he slid in, carefully placing his bag of chips on his lap. Austin got into the driver's seat and started the engine.
"So, two blocks?" Austin asked, pulling out of the parking lot.
"Yeah," Tom said, staring straight ahead. "It's the blue house with the white garage."
The drive was short, just as Tom had promised. Austin pulled up in front of a modest single-story home with a well-manicured lawn. It looked like the picture-perfect suburban house.
"I live in the garage," Tom explained, pointing to a detached structure in the driveway. "My parents let me have the space. It's... um... it's my own apartment."
"Nice setup," Austin said, parking the car behind Tom’s car. "Privacy is good."
They got out and walked to the side door of the garage. Tom fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking just enough that he missed the keyhole twice.
"Sorry," Tom mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment. "I'm a little... I'm not usually this nervous."
"Don't worry about it," Austin said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, watching him. He didn't offer to help; he enjoyed watching the struggle, the tangible evidence of the effect he was having. It confirmed everything he needed to know. This man was unused to attention, especially from someone like Austin.
Finally, the lock clicked. Tom pushed the heavy metal door open and gestured for Austin to go inside.
"Thanks," Austin said, stepping into the cool shadow of the garage apartment.
He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in surprise. The exterior of the garage was nondescript, almost industrial, but the interior was a completely different world. It was a gamer's paradise, but a high-end one. The walls were painted a matte, calming grey, lined with acoustic foam panels. Against one wall sat a massive L-shaped desk that looked like it could support the weight of a small car.
Perched on that desk were three curved monitors, their backlights pulsing with a soft, ambient blue. A mechanical keyboard with custom keycaps sat in front of a mouse that looked more like a piece of sci-fi hardware than a computer peripheral. A tower case with a glass side panel hummed quietly, the interior glowing with RGB lighting that shifted from purple to pink. It was pristine, organized, and clearly worth more than Austin's car.
"Whoa," Austin said, walking over to inspect the setup. "You weren't kidding about the beta testing. This is serious gear."
Tom closed the door behind them, the lock clicking shut with a heavy, final sound that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the space. He walked over to a small end table near a futon and dropped his bag of chips onto it. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking pleased but still shy about the compliment.
"Yeah," Tom said, his voice gaining a little more confidence now that he was on his own turf. "I work for a software company that develops games. Mostly RPGs and strategy titles. I beta test them, find the bugs, write the reports. It's pretty cool work, if you like sitting in a chair for twelve hours a day."
Austin turned away from the monitors to look at him. Tom was standing near the futon, looking slightly out of place in his high-tech sanctuary. The lighting from the computer screens cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the angular structure of his jaw and the way his glasses caught the light.
"So," Austin said, walking slowly toward him. "Do you want to play a game first? Or... after?"
Tom blushed again, the color rising high on his cheeks. He looked down at his feet, then up at Austin through his lashes. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then offered a tentative, crooked smile. "I... I wasn't really thinking about playing video games right now."
Austin stopped directly in front of him. He was close enough that he could smell Tom, soap, laundry detergent, and a faint, sharp scent of anxiety mixed with anticipation. Austin reached out, his hand moving slowly so Tom could pull away if he wanted to, but he didn't. Austin brushed a stray curl of hair away from Tom's forehead.
"How about instead?" Austin whispered.
Tom’s breath hitched. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, his body swaying toward Austin. "That's... that sounds better," he whispered back.
"You are so cute when you blush," Austin murmured. "You turn red so easily."
Tom let out a nervous laugh, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape route, though his feet stayed planted firmly where they were. "I can't help it. It's just... you're really direct. I'm not used to that."
Austin didn't say anything else. He just leaned in and pressed his lips against Tom's.
The reaction was immediate. Tom froze for a fraction of a second, his body rigid with surprise, before he melted against Austin. His lips were soft, hesitant, tasting slightly of the spearmint gum he must have been chewing earlier. Austin kissed him deeply, one hand sliding around to the back of Tom's neck, pulling him closer, asserting control.
Tom made a small, needy sound in the back of his throat, and that was all the permission Austin needed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into Tom's mouth, exploring him. Tom's hands fluttered in the air for a moment before settling tentatively on Austin's waist, as if he was afraid gripping too hard would be rude.
Austin smiled against Tom's lips, pulling back just enough to nip at his lower lip. "You can touch me, Tom. I won't break."
Tom let out a shaky breath. "I know. I just... I don't want to mess this up."
"You're doing fine," Austin assured him. He ran his hands down Tom's chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He could feel Tom's heart hammering against his ribs, a rapid, frantic rhythm that matched the heat building in the room.
Austin pushed Tom backward gently, guiding him toward the futon. Tom went willingly, his knees hitting the edge of the mattress. He sat down heavily, looking up at Austin with wide, dilated pupils. He looked completely surrendered, open to whatever Austin wanted to do.
Austin climbed onto the futon, straddling Tom's lap. He took Tom's face in his hands and kissed him again, harder this time, more demanding. Tom's hands finally found purchase, sliding up Austin's thighs to rest on his hips, his fingers digging in slightly.
"Take this off," Austin murmured, tugging at the hem of Tom's t-shirt.
Tom didn't hesitate. He pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His chest was pale and smooth, defined by a light tracery of muscle that was more wiry than bulky. His nipples were small and pink, hardening in the cool air.
Austin leaned down, trailing kisses down Tom's neck, tasting the salt of his skin. He bit down gently on the sensitive spot where Tom's neck met his shoulder, reveling in the gasp it elicited. Tom arched his back, his head falling back against the wall, giving Austin full access.
"Your skin is so soft," Austin murmured, his breath hot against Tom's ear. He ran his hands down Tom's sides, feeling him shudder. "And you're so responsive. I love it."
"I'm trying," Tom breathed out. "Wow, Austin..."
"Shh," Austin hushed him. "Just feel."
Austin kissed his way down Tom's chest, pausing to tease each nipple with his tongue, feeling them tighten under his attention. Tom writhed beneath him, his hips bucking up involuntarily, seeking friction. Austin could feel Tom's hardness pressing against his own denim-clad ass, a distinct, insistent pressure.
He sat back slightly to look at Tom. Tom's face was a mask of pleasure, his glasses slightly askew, his lips swollen and wet from their kissing. He looked absolutely wrecked already, and they had barely started.
"Stand up," Austin commanded, sliding off Tom's lap.
Tom stood up immediately, swaying slightly. Austin reached out and undid the button of Tom's cargo shorts, slowly lowering the zipper. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Tom's boxers and pushed both garments down in one smooth motion. Tom stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
Tom stood there, naked except for his socks, his cock jutting out proudly. It was a nice size, cut, with a slight upward curve, the head glistening with pre-come. His legs were lean and dusted with fine hair.
Austin reached out and wrapped his hand around Tom's length, stroking him slowly from base to tip. Tom groaned, his knees buckling slightly.
"You're already so hard," Austin observed, his voice thick with arousal. "Did you think about me in the store?"
"Yes," Tom admitted, his voice cracking. "As soon as I saw you. I almost forgot to buy the chips."
Austin laughed softly, giving Tom's cock a firm squeeze before letting go. "Did I tell you how cute you are?”
He stood up, pulled a couple of condoms from his pocket and tossed them on the mattress along with some packets of lube. He pulled his own shirt off, tossing it aside. Tom watched him with hungry eyes, his gaze roaming over Austin's broader shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest and abs. Austin knew he looked good; he worked for it. And he knew how to use it to drive a man like Tom wild.
"Get on the bed," Austin said, nodding toward the futon. "Lie back."
Tom scrambled to comply, arranging himself against the pillows. He looked like a feast laid out before him, pale skin contrasting with the dark grey sheets. Austin kicked off his shoes and shucked his jeans and boxers, moving with a deliberate, predatory grace.
He climbed onto the futon, settling between Tom's legs. He pushed Tom's knees apart, making room for himself. He leaned down and kissed the inside of Tom's thigh, feeling the muscle tremble beneath his lips.
"You have such a nice body, Tom," Austin murmured, kissing his way higher. "Hidden under those loose clothes. It's a nice surprise."
Tom made a low sound, his hands twisting in the sheets. "Austin, please..."
"Please what?" Austin teased, his breath ghosting over Tom's balls.
"Touch me," Tom begged. "Suck me."
Austin smiled. He loved the begging. He loved that Tom was letting him take the lead, setting the pace, controlling the pleasure. It was exactly what he needed.
He lowered his head and took Tom into his mouth.
The moan that ripped out of Tom’s throat was raw and unfiltered, a sound that seemed to vibrate right through Austin’s lips. Austin didn't start slow; he swallowed Tom down to the root in one smooth, practiced motion, his nose buried in the coarse hair at the base. Tom’s hips jerked up off the mattress, seeking more depth, more heat, but Austin placed a firm hand on Tom’s pelvis, pinning him down.
"Easy," Austin muttered around the mouthful of flesh before pulling back slowly, his tongue dragging along the sensitive underside of the shaft. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard on the head, tasting the salty, bitter pre-come that had pooled there.
Tom was gasping, his chest heaving as if he’d just sprinted a mile. He looked down at Austin, his eyes wide and glassy behind his glasses, which were now dangerously askew. The sight of Austin, dark hair, muscular shoulders, lips stretched tight around his cock, seemed to short-circuit Tom’s nervous system. He reached down, his fingers hovering over Austin’s head, trembling with the urge to grab hold, to thrust, to take control, but he held back.
"You can touch my hair," Austin said, releasing Tom’s cock for a second to look up at him. "Just don't push."
Tom let out a shaky breath and buried his fingers in Austin's thick hair, the touch gentle, reverent. Austin smirked and went back to work.
He built a rhythm, slow and torturous. He would bob his head, taking Tom deep, swirling his tongue around the head, then pull back to attend to the heavy sac beneath. He listened to Tom’s breathing, the way it hitched and stuttered, using those sounds as a map to navigate his pleasure. Tom was vocal in his surrender, whimpering and moaning, little "ah, ah, ah" sounds that were music to Austin's ears.
After a few minutes, Austin pulled off completely, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Tom’s flushed cock. Tom groaned in frustration, his hips twitching at the loss of contact.
"Why... why did you stop?" Tom panted, his eyes screwed shut.
Austin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up the bed, hovering over Tom. He captured Tom's lips in a bruising kiss, letting him taste himself. Tom responded eagerly, his tongue tangling with Austin's, his hands sliding down Austin's back to grip his shoulders.
"Because I'm not done with you yet," Austin whispered against his lips. "And I don't want you to finish too soon."
He grabbed the foil packet and a small packet of lube. He tossed the condom onto Tom’s chest and sat back on his heels.
"Put it on me," Austin commanded.
Tom picked up the packet with fumbling fingers. He tore it open, the foil crinkling loudly in the quiet room. He moved to his knees, his face level with Austin's groin. Austin knelt there, stroking himself lazily, watching Tom's intense focus.
Tom rolled the condom down Austin's length, his fingers cool and slightly shaky. When he was done, he gave Austin's cock a tentative squeeze.
"Good," Austin said, pushing Tom back down onto the mattress. "On your stomach. Or knees. Whatever's comfortable."
Tom flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the crook of his arm, raising his hips slightly. It was a picture of submission, back arched, ass exposed, waiting. Austin felt a surge of possessiveness, hot and heavy in his gut. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, warming it up before pressing one against Tom's entrance.
Tom flinched at the cold contact, then relaxed as Austin began to circle the tight ring of muscle. Austin leaned forward, pressing kisses to the back of Tom's neck, his shoulders, his spine, working his way down as he slowly pressed a finger inside.
"Relax," Austin murmured, nipping at Tom's earlobe. "Push out against me."
Tom did as he was told, his breathing slowing down as he adjusted to the intrusion. Austin worked him open patiently, scissoring his fingers, stretching the tight channel. He added a second finger, then a third, watching Tom's fists clench in the sheets. He curled his fingers, searching for that spot, and was rewarded when Tom cried out, his entire body jerking.
"Found it," Austin grinned.
He didn't torture him for too long. Tom was ready, his body loose and open, his hole glistening with lube. Austin slicked up his condomed cock and positioned himself behind Tom. He gripped Tom's hips, pulling him up slightly so he was on his hands and knees.
"Last chance to change your mind," Austin teased, though he knew Tom wasn't going anywhere.
"Don't stop," Tom groaned, looking back at him over his shoulder. His face was flushed, his eyes desperate. "Please, Austin. Fuck me."
Austin didn't need to be told twice. He lined himself up and pushed forward.
The slide in was tight, almost too constricting. Austin gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to just slam home. Tom gasped, a sharp intake of breath, his body tensing up.
"Breathe," Austin coached him, pausing halfway in to let Tom adjust. He ran a soothing hand up and down Tom's spine. "You're doing great."
Tom exhaled loudly, his muscles unclenching slightly. Austin took the opportunity to push the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. He groaned at the sensation of being encased in that tight heat, the feeling of Tom's body fluttering around him.
He waited a moment, letting them both get used to the connection. Then, he started to move.
He pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room. Tom cried out, dropping his head down to the mattress, his ass pushing back to meet Austin's thrusts.
"Wow, you feel good," Austin growled, picking up the pace. He gripped Tom's hips hard enough to leave bruises, using the leverage to drive deeper. Tom was taking it beautifully, his body yielding to every rough thrust.
The sounds of their sex filled the room, the wet slap of flesh, the harsh rhythm of their breathing, Tom's unrestrained whimpers. It was primal, raw. Austin felt his control slipping, the careful dominance he was maintaining fraying at the edges as the pleasure built. He leaned forward, draping his chest over Tom's back, wrapping one arm around Tom's chest to pull him upright.
"Turn your head," Austin demanded.
Tom turned, and Austin captured his mouth in a messy, open-mouthed kiss as he continued to thrust into him. The angle change must have hit Tom's prostate again, because Tom shuddered violently, his cock leaking pre-come onto the sheets beneath him.
"You like that?" Austin muttered into his ear, biting down on the lobe. "You like being fucked?"
"Yes," Tom hissed, his voice strained. "Yes, don't stop. harder, please."
Austin obliged. He sat back up, grabbed Tom's ass cheeks, and spread them wide, watching his cock disappear into Tom's body over and over again. The visual was intoxicating. He felt powerful, omnipotent. He had picked this man up off the street, brought him here, and now owned his pleasure completely.
After a few more minutes of the relentless pace, Austin slowed down. He pulled out, ignoring Tom's whine of protest.
"Flip over," he said. "I want to see your face."
Tom scrambled to turn over, flopping onto his back. His chest was heaving, his cock lying hard and flushed against his stomach. He pulled his legs up, opening himself up without Austin even having to ask.
"Good man," Austin praised, crawling back between his legs. He hooked Tom's knees over his elbows and pushed back in.
The missionary position allowed for a different kind of intimacy. Austin could look into Tom's eyes, see the glazed look of ecstasy, watch his mouth fall open in silent cries. He leaned down, kissing Tom deeply, swallowing his moans.
He set a steady, grinding rhythm, rolling his hips rather than pistoning. This allowed him to hit Tom's prostate with every stroke, grinding against it with deliberate precision. Tom was writhing beneath him, his hands clutching at Austin's biceps, his head thrown back.
"You're so tight," Austin groaned, resting his forehead against Tom's. "So fucking tight."
Tom wrapped his legs around Austin's waist, locking his ankles together, pulling him in deeper. "I'm close," Tom gasped. "Austin, I'm gonna..."
"Not yet," Austin warned, though he was fighting his own battle. "Hold it."
"I don't know if I can," Tom whimpered, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of his eyes.
"Try," Austin said, slowing down to an agonizing crawl. "Just a little longer."
He fucked Tom slowly, dragging out every sensation. He watched the play of emotions across Tom's face, pleasure, desperation, adoration. It was exactly what Austin had been looking for. A connection that was physical but undeniable, a surrender that was total and absolute.
Finally, Austin pulled out again. His thighs were burning with the exertion, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I want you to ride me," Austin said, moving to lie back against the pillows. He gestured to his straining cock. "Your turn to do some work."
Tom didn't hesitate, though his movements were clumsy as he scrambled to straddle Austin's hips. He hovered over Austin's cock, his thighs trembling either from the previous position or the sheer anticipation. Austin reached out to steady him, gripping Tom's waist with both hands.
"Sit down," Austin commanded, his voice raspy.
Tom lowered himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as Austin's cock breached him again. He took it inch by inch, his head falling back, a long, drawn-out sigh escaping his lips. When he was fully seated, his ass resting against Austin's pelvis, he paused, adjusting to the fullness.
"Fuck, that’s perfect," Austin said, running his hands up and down Tom's chest, flicking his nipples. "Ride it, Tom."
Tom braced his hands on Austin's pecs and began to move. At first, his rhythm was hesitant, shallow rises and falls. But Austin didn't let him get away with that. He planted his feet on the mattress and thrust up sharply, meeting Tom on the downstroke.
Tom cried out, his head snapping forward. "Fuck!"
"Yeah, that's it," Austin growled. "Take it."
Tom found his rhythm then, aided by Austin's hands guiding his hips. He began to bounce in earnest, his cock slapping against Austin's stomach with every movement. The visual was incredible, Tom's lean body arching, the sheen of sweat coating his pale skin, the way his mouth hung open in a silent O of pleasure.
Austin let him control the pace for a while, enjoying the show, enjoying the way Tom's walls gripped him, flexing and releasing as he rode. He watched Tom's face, transfixed by the raw openness of it. There was no hiding here, no shyness left. It was just pure, unadulterated need.
"Touch yourself," Austin ordered. "I want to see you come."
Tom let go of Austin's chest and wrapped his hand around his own neglected cock. He started to stroke himself in time with his movements, his fist flying over the sensitive flesh. His breathing turned ragged, his hips stuttering.
"I'm... I'm close," Tom gasped, his voice cracking. "Austin, please..."
Austin could feel his own orgasm barreling down the track, the heat coiling tight at the base of his spine. He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around Tom's waist, burying his face in Tom's neck. He increased the tempo of his thrusts, driving up into Tom with wild abandon.
"Come for me," Austin growled against his skin. "Let go. Come on."
Tom let out a strangled scream, his body locking up as the orgasm tore through him. He threw his head back, his spine bowing, and ropes of white semen erupted from his cock, painting Austin's chest and stomach in thick stripes. He shuddered violently, his ass clamping down around Austin's cock like a vise.
The feeling of Tom pulsing around him, combined with the sight of him coming undone, was the last straw. Austin groaned, his hips snapping up one last time as he spilled himself into the condom. He held Tom tight, grinding through the aftershocks, his breath coming in harsh gasps against Tom's damp neck.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy, intermingled breathing. Tom slumped against Austin, his head resting on Austin's shoulder, completely spent. Austin held him, one hand stroking Tom's sweat-slicked back, the other tangled in his hair.
Eventually, Tom stirred. He lifted his head slightly, looking at Austin with dazed, half-lidded eyes.
"Wow," Tom whispered, a weak smile tugging at his lips.
"Yeah," Austin agreed, pressing a soft kiss to Tom's forehead. "Wow."
He gently lifted Tom off his lap and helped him collapse onto the mattress. Austin stood up, peeling off the condom and tying it off. He tossed it into the small trash can by the desk before padding over to the small bathroom attached to the apartment.
He grabbed a towel and wet it with warm water. When he returned to the bed, Tom was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, a goofy, contented expression on his face. Austin sat down beside him and gently wiped the sweat and cum from Tom's chest and stomach.
Tom hummed in appreciation, his eyes closing. "That was... that was really intense. I haven't... I mean, not like that."
"Glad I could oblige," Austin smiled, tossing the towel aside. He stretched, feeling the satisfying ache in his muscles. "You're surprisingly good at this, for someone who was blushing in the chip aisle thirty minutes ago."
Tom laughed, a quiet, breathy sound. "I think you just brought it out of me. You're very... commanding."
"I know what I like," Austin said simply.
He lay down next to Tom, resting his head on his arm. The silence was comfortable, not awkward. It was rare to find a connection this immediate, this seamless. But Austin knew how these things went. The heat of the moment was a powerful drug, but the comedown was inevitable.
He looked at the clock on the wall. It had been less than an hour since they walked in the door.
"I should probably get going," Austin said softly, though he made no move to get up immediately.
Tom turned his head to look at him, a flash of disappointment crossing his face. "You don't have to. I mean, if you want to stay... we could order pizza. Or I could show you the game I'm testing."
Austin smiled, brushing a stray hair out of Tom's eyes. "I'd like that. But I actually came out for a reason. I'm hunting for a sewing machine at the thrift store before they close."
"Oh," Tom said. "Right. The thrift store."
"It's not far from here," Austin said. "Maybe I'll stop by after. If you're still around." But he knew that he wouldn’t.
"I'll be around," Tom said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Austin sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood up and began to collect his clothes, pulling his boxers and jeans back on. Tom watched him, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Hey, Austin?" Tom called out as Austin was pulling his shirt back on.
"Yeah?" Austin turned to look at him.
"Thanks," Tom said, his face turning that familiar shade of red again, though softer this time. "For... you know. Coming in. And talking to me."
Austin walked over to the bed and leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to Tom's lips. "My pleasure, Tom Brody. You're a sweet guy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
He pulled away, offering him a final wink before grabbing his keys and sunglasses.
"Shower's all yours," Austin said, gesturing toward the bathroom. "Help yourself to the chips."
Tom laughed. "I'll probably just pass out."
"Fair enough," Austin said. "Lock the door after me."
He walked to the side door, the adrenaline finally fading into a warm, satisfied glow. He stepped out into the late afternoon sun, the air still hot but feeling different now, lighter, somehow.
As he walked to his car, he thought about the thrift store. The machine was still out there, waiting to be found. But as he started the engine and backed out of the driveway, he realized the thrill of the hunt wasn't just about the sewing machine. Sometimes, the best finds were the ones you weren't looking for.
He glanced back at the garage apartment one last time before driving away, already wondering if he should actually circle back to the store or just head straight for the thrift store and save the second round for another day. He put the car in gear and headed toward the main road, the taste of Tom still lingering on his lips, the day feeling infinitely more promising than it had an hour ago.
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