- Zane Whitaker: Age 18; straight, short dirty blonde hair; blue eyes; 5’9”; pitcher on the baseball team
- Luc Simon: Age 26; light blonde hair; hazel eyes; 6'6; French grad student; athletic, triathlete build
- Brody Kessler: Age 19; wavy, short black hair; dark brown eyes; 6’3” 250 lbs; heavyweight wrestler
- Ray Whitaker: Age 41; dirty blond hair; blue eyes; 6'2"; muscular build
- Brian Little: Age 24; brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin; 6'0"; firefighter
Luc guided himself to Zane's entrance and rested there, the slick head pressing lightly against the 18-year-old stud’s puckering virgin hole, not pushing in. Zane had just cum all over his own torso and Luc had scooped the cum up an used it to lube his own 8.5 inch cock. The tall, hairy stud rocked his cockhead, teasing, circling….and Zane's hips bucked in pleasure.
"Luc—"
"Not yet." Luc's said, “Be patient, by beautiful little jock slut.”
He drew back and moved instead, coming up the bed, and swung a leg over so he was straddling Zane's face, whose wrists were still bound above his head.
From below, Zane admired the sexy frenchman. The sharp jaw under the short blonde beard. The wolf eyes looking down. A flat cut chest dusted with blonde hair, small hard nipples, a tight stack of abs. Then, close to Zane’s face, there was that the wild untrimmed bush, thick and pale, and the long uncut cock hanging heavy over him, and the low full balls behind it.
"Clean me off, dirty boy” Luc said. “Like all your cum off my cock.”
Zane lifted his head as far as the angle allowed and took the head of Luc's cock into his mouth. He could taste his own lemon all over it, and that alone sent a fresh pulse of heat through him even spent as he was. He worked the head the way he'd just been taught….patient, licking, savoring every trace of his own cum on the long cock.
He still couldn't take the whole length. When Luc's hips rocked forward, offering more, Zane got about halfway before his throat closed and he had to back off. So for the rest of it — the cum cooling near the base, caught in the wild blonde pubes — Zane turned his head to the side and licked it away from there instead, working along the shaft with the flat of his tongue until nothing was left.
Luc swore quietly above him and reached for his phone off the nightstand. Zane watched him thumb out a message one-handed, glancing down every few seconds, the screen throwing blue light across his stomach and catching in the ridges of it.
“Texting my roommate," Luc said, catching the look. "He's got his own room down the hall. I just tell him when someone's over."
The phone buzzed once in his hand. A thumbs up.
Luc set it face-down and swung off him. "I have to piss. One minute."
Zane heard him go out, heard the bathroom door, heard water and then the cabinet, then two quick sharp sniffs. Zane just lay there for a while, wrists still tied, impatient for the sexy grad student turn his attention back to his needy asshole.
Luc came back wiping his hands on a towel. "My nose has been blocked all night," he said, dropping onto the bed. "Took some Afrin. Should clear out in a few minutes."
"Romantic," Zane said.
"Mm." Luc leaned over and kissed him while lightly chuckling. "You're still tied to my bed, so I don't think you get to talk."
Luc settled back between Zane's thighs, but he didn't return straight to where they'd left off. He kissed Zane's stomach first, his hip, and let one hand trail down to the puckering virgin hole he’d been teasing before, circling, drawing it back out. Zane's breath went ragged again fas. He was so sensitive by now that almost nothing was required.
"Please," Zane said, hips chasing the touch. "Luc, please, I want it—"
"I know." Luc pressed the head of his cock there again, rocking, letting Zane feel exactly how much of him there was going to be. "I know you do."
He pushed in, barely, just the head, and everything in Zane clamped shut at once.
"AHHHH—“ Zane's back came up off the bed. "Wait — wait, you're too—"
Luc stopped instantly. His cock head popped back out. He hadn’t penetrated the splintcher yet. He ran a hand down Zane's thigh. "Breathe," he said. "Deep. Breaths.”
Zane breathed. Luc waited, not moving, giving him the time.
"Now out, and push. Like you're trying to take a shit. Push out against me instead of pulling away." His voice stayed low and level. "That's it. Let everything go soft. I'm not going anywhere."
Zane tried. He breathed in, breathed out, pushed the way Luc said, and Luc rocked forward again, testing… dnd Zane's body snapped tight as a fist all over again. He gasped.
"I can't — it's too much—" His wrists yanked at the ties. "I don't think it's gonna fit, I don't—"
"Hey." Luc came down over him, weight on one arm, and kissed his forehead. "Look at me."
Zane looked at him.
"We've got all night," Luc said. "There's no rush. We'll get there."
They tried twice more and it was no use. Zane's body wouldn't open, no matter how he breathed or pushed, and after the third attempt Luc sat back on his heels and laughed under his breath…not at Zane, just at the situation.
"Okay," Luc said. "Okay. It's fine."
He reached up and worked the knot loose at the headboard, then unwound the fabric from Zane's wrists and rubbed each one between his palms, checking the skin, pressing his thumbs into the muscle where Zane had been pulling.
"I'm sorry," Zane said, frustrated, red-faced. "I don't know why I can't just—"
"Have you ever topped anyone?" Luc asked, stretching out beside him instead of over him.
“I mean I’ve fucked girls….. few times….like in the pussy” Zane made a vague gesture. "Never like this though. I’ve never done anal with a girl before...or a guy….”
Zane had gone soft from the effort and the nerves, and Luc noticed. Without a word, Zane bent and took the baseball stud’s dick back into his mouth. It didn't take long before Zane was hard again, breathing easier, the tension draining out of his shoulders.
Luc pulled off and sat looking at him for a second, taking stock, and Zane felt himself being catalogued.
Zane looked so cute. Short, dirty-blonde hair, damp now and pushed every direction. Blue eyes. Square shoulders, a smooth chest with flat pink nipples, six clean lines of abs that rippled when he breathed, a tight waist, narrow hips. A 7 inche hard cock and with a drop of precum forming at the head. A light blonde trail below the navel that ran down into a trimmed bush.
"You're an incredibly good-looking guy," Luc said, matter-of-fact. "You know that?"
"People have said."
"Mm." Luc put his palm flat on Zane's chest and dragged it down over every ridge of him, slow enough to feel each one. "People are right."
That was when he caught it.
Luc’s face was close to Zane's hip, and somewhere in the last few minutes the Afrin had finally opened him up — he could suddenly smell the room, the bed, and under all of it something coming off the trail of hair below Zane's navel where sweat had gathered from all the straining. Luc paused with his mouth still on him and breathed in through his nose, deliberate.
It hit him harder than he expected.
"Fuck." He came off Zane's cock and pressed his whole face into the crease of his hip. “Fuuuuckkk*, Zane."
“Uh, why are you sniffing my junk like that dude…I probably don’t smell great down there…”
"You have no idea." Luc dragged his nose up the trail of hair to his navel, and when he spoke his voice had gone thick. "I want to put my face everywhere on you. I want to taste every part of you."
"It's just sweat, man."
"It isn't. I’ve never met a man that smelled this good before…” Luc lifted his head, and there was something almost puzzled in his expression, like he'd surprised himself. "My nose only just cleared. I've been half-blind all night and I didn't know it." He bent and breathed him in again, and this time the sound he made was low and unguarded. "God. I've never wanted anybody this badly in my life. I’m so FUCKING horny right now!”
"Luc…”
"I mean it." He came back up over Zane. His eyes had gone dark and there was sweat beading along his hairline now, more than the exertion accounted for. He was breathing like he'd run five miles. "I want you inside me. Right now. I don't want to wait."
Zane's cock throbbed just hearing it. Luc had steered every minute of this night….calm, in command, drawing everything out. And now he was flushed to the chest and visibly undone over sweat and skin.
"You're so hot like this, dude” Zane said, “I’ve never had someone go so feral like this…”
"I've never *been* like this. I don’t know what’s come over me. Something about the sexy way you smell….“ Luc grabbed the lube, hands unsteady, and slicked Zane fast, stroking him once, twice, like he couldn't stop touching him. "Look at you. Look how hard you are." He worked lube into himself in a rush, barely pausing, sweat running down the side of his throat. "I need this. I need you in me right fucking now."
"Then take it," Zane said, and the confidence in his own voice startled him. "Come here."
Luc didn't need telling twice. He straddled Zane, lined himself up, and sank down in one greedy glide with a long ragged sound. It slipped in naturally. Luc opened around him easy and full and tight and bottomed out with a shudder.
"Oh — *fuck*," Luc gasped, head falling back, hands braced on Zane's chest. "God, you feel incredible."
Luc held there a second, adjusting. His eyes came down and found Zane's, and there was nothing composed left in them.
"I've wanted this all night," Luc said, rolling his hips and hissing in lust. "Since you walked in that door."
Zane lay there with Luc moving over him and felt something shift under his ribs. This was nothing like the few discreethookups with guys he had in the past. Nothing like the fast furtive stuff he'd felt guilty about afterwards. Those had been things to get through and hide from afterward. This was something Zane wanted to remember forever, a memory to treasure for the rest of his life.
Luc rode him like an experienced bottom. Hips working in a filthy steady rhythm, taking him deep every time, all his earlier restraint burned clean off. He'd gone crude and unguarded, muttering dirty profanities, his own cock hard and dripping between them with every drop.
"You feel so good in me," he ground out. "So fucking good—"
He didn't last. Two minutes in he threw his head back with a broken shout and came untouched, thick ropes striping up Zane's chest, one catching him across the jaw.
Luc didn't stop riding Zane’s cock. He reached down, still gasping, dragged his fingers through the mess on Zane's chest and began working it into Zane’s skin like lotion, circling over his pecs, down each ridge of his stomach, out along the flat plane of his shoulders.
"You like that?" Luc asked, watching his face.
"Yeah." Zane die. He felt turned on at being marked, at being rubbed with his own cum.
Luc kept at it, gentler now, both hands smoothing it in with long strokes, a strange tender comedown after how hard he'd just finished. His own cock softened against his thigh.
Then he leaned down and put his face in Zane's armpit again.
Luc breathed once, deep. And Zane felt him go rigid. When Luc lifted his head, he was hard again. Fully. All eight and a half inches curving up against Zane's stomach like he hadn't just come at all.
"Jesus," Zane said, staring. "That was…that was fast."
"I know." Luc sounded surprised at his own body, and delighted about it. He pushed his nose back into Zane’s damp armpit hair and made a low hungry sound, and then his tongue followed, open-mouthed, and hungry. “Fuuuckkkk, I cannot get enough of this."
“Dude, you're like a feral animal right now."
"Maybe I am." Luc lifted his head enough to grin, sweat dripping off his jaw, and started moving again, riding the baseball stud even faster.
He built it back fast, bouncing on Zane's cock with total abandon, and then folded down over him chest to chest and kissed him, deep and filthy, and Zane kissed back just as hard. They were both slick with cum and sweat now, chest sliding on chest, Luc’s chest hair pressed flat between them.
Luc broke away and dragged his mouth along Zane's jaw instead, licking, tasting the salt, down his throat, catching every bead like he needed it. The headboard knocked against the wall as Zane’s head banged against it when he writhed in pleasure.
“God, you're so dirty right now…it’s filthy how much my stinky pits turn you on,” Zane said, laughing into it.
"You made me this way." Luc licked a long stripe up to his ear. "This is your fault."
He kept riding him through it, licking over every inch of Zane's sweat-slick neck and jaw he could reach, and the sheer starved hunger of it. Luc craved Zane’s sweat like he was addicted to it. Luc, who was so collected an hour ago….reduced to *this* … a puddle of pure horny lust…this drove Zane straight to the edge.
"I'm gonna cum again," Zane got out. "Luc—"
"Do it." Luc ground down hard and sealed their mouths together. "Fill me up."
Everything in Zane seized at once and he came deep inside him, hips jerking up to meet every roll until he was empty, gasping into Luc's mouth, the two of them shaking and soaked and spent together on the bed. “AHHHH….I’m fucking cumming again dude….ahhhh…ahhh…AHHHH….shitt…..oh shit….ughhhhhhh.”
Luc came up off him and started working across his body with his mouth like he wasn't finished. He licked along one shoulder, then shifted and buried his face in Zane's other armpit, humming against it, tongue dragging through the damp blonde hair.
He kissed and licked down over Zane's chest, mouth catching on one flat nipple and then the other, down the six clean lines of his stomach, tasting sweat and the last traces of his earlier cum rubbed into the skin.
"You're everywhere," Zane said, breathless. “Bro I’m like covered in your spit.”
"I know." Luc wasn't sorry. He kept going, nosing along the cut of Zane's hip, and when he reached his balls he pressed his face into them and inhaled, a rough sound catching in his throat. He licked over them, thorough, taking the sweat off with his tongue like it was the best thing he'd had all night.
His hair was a disaster by now, damp and curling in every direction where Zane's hands had been, beard wet to the jaw, and he looked up through it with his eyes blown out.
Then he moved to Zane's cock — the one that had just been inside him — and without warning licked a stripe right up the shaft.
Zane jolted hard. "Wait — are you sure? That's — that's literally just been in your ass."
Luc didn't hesitate. "I don't care," he said, voice shot, and took the head into his mouth like it was nothing, like the taste of himself on it only sharpened his appetite.
He sucked him deep, working every inch he could take, humming around it, and when his nose pressed into the trimmed pubes at the base, he breathed in and shuddered, hips rocking against nothing, as if the smell alone had started something up in him all over again.
Zane stared down, stunned and painfully turned on even after having orgasmed multiple times in the past hour. He'd never seen anything like it — Luc going down on his dirty cock like it was a delicacy, completely unbothered, completely gone.
"You're so filthy," Zane breathed.
Luc pulled off with a wet sound, grinning, and crawled back up to kiss him, open and deep. Zane could taste it faintly on his tongue…his own cum, lube and maybe a trace of Luc’s asshole. It should have turned his stomach and excited him…it was dirty and electric in a way nothing had prepared him for.
"You liked watching me do ass to mouth,” Luc murmured. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Zane admitted, kissing him again, chasing the taste. "God, yeah. I did."
Luc collapsed half onto him, still catching his breath, and pressed a lazy kiss to his shoulder.
"Stay," he said. “Please stay with me. All night. Let's see how many times we can make each other cum before morning."
Zane laughed, dazed, and felt the pull of it more than he expected. "That's tempting. That's really tempting."
"Then say yes."
Before Zane could answer, Luc reached over and picked up his phone again. "Hold on. One second." He thumbed something out, quick and practiced. "I have to text my boyfriend."
Zane blinked. "Your… boyfriend?!”
"Mm." Luc didn't look up. "We're open. Open relationship. He likes to know when I've got someone over, that's all."
"Oh." Zane turned that over. He was fairly certain Luce had never mentioned a boyfriend before. “Did you mention that before? Like when we were messaging? I thought your profile said you were single.”
"Didn't come up." Luc sent the text and set the phone face-down, turning back easy, like it was nothing at all. "It's not a big deal. We both play with other men.”
Zane let it sit in his chest a second. It didn't change how the night had gone. It was still the most amazing night of sex he’d ever had. But he felt a bit weirded out…not sure if he could trust Luc anymore…
He looked past Luc at the clock on the nightstand. 11:30.
"I should get back," he said, sitting up. "I've got a couple of orientation events in the morning and I don't have any of my stuff here."
Luc's face fell a little. He was clearly disappointed. "Already?"
"Tonight was amazing." Zane meant it. "Like, genuinely, no cap. I'm not gonna forget how incredible you were. But I should go."
Luc exhaled, but he nodded, and didn't push. "Okay. Fair enough." He sat up too. All 6’6” of him unfolded off the bed, his torso looking extra defined in the lamplight. Luke raked a hand through his ruffled hair. "Let me drive you. It's late."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." Luc leaned in and kissed him, softly on the lips. "Get dressed. I'll take you home."
The dorm room smelled like sweat (mostly Brody’s sweat) and sex the moment Zane pushed the door open.
Brody was sprawled across his bed in nothing but a pair of gray boxer shorts, one arm behind his head, exposing the thick bush of dark hair in his armpit. He was scrolling on his phone and looked up when the door shut.
"There’s my man,” Brody said, tossing the phone onto the mattress.
Zane dropped his keys on the desk and shrugged off his jacket. “Holy shit…It still smells like sex in here, man."
"Yeah, sorry." Brody didn't sound sorry. He stretched, and the whole bed frame creaked under two hundred fifty pounds of muscle. "Been a busy night." Brody winked.
Zane sat down on the edge of his own bed across the room. He already knew where this was going…it had only been three days and Zane already picked up on the fact that Brody liked to brag about his conquests. "So how'd it go?" (Zane didn’t mention that he, Emma, and Lydia had all already *heard* how it went.)
That was all the probing it took. Brody grinned, sat up, and planted his feet on the floor like he was settling in to tell a story he'd been rehearsing.
"Bro. Kayla is a F-REAK.” He shook his head slowly, "I'm telling you. You would not believe some of the stuff she's into."
“You know her from back in high school, right?"
“Yeah we go way back.” Brody laughed. "She's had a thing for me since like sophomore year. Followed me around forever. I figured, why not, first week of college, might as well." He shrugged like he was doing somebody a favor. "I mean, look. She's a slut, okay, straight up. Girl's probably been with half our graduating class. But damn." He whistled low. "The things she does, though. I've never had anything like that. Freak in the sheets, I swear to God."
Zane didn't say anything right away. He picked at a loose thread on his comforter. He was pretty sure the entire third floor had a decent idea of exactly how freaky it had gotten.
Brody kept going. He talked about it in detail, which he clearly thought made him sound impressive. The positions he railed her in, the sounds she'd made, a running commentary he delivered with easy confidence of a guy who completely lacked self-awareness.
"Anyway," Brody finished, leaning back on his hands, "she's already texting me. I'll probably hit it again this weekend if I'm bored."
Zane exhaled through his nose. "You know she's not, like—a slut, or whatever. For sleeping with people."
Brody raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "I mean, she kind of is, man. That’s like literally the definition of the word ‘slut’. I’m just being real. Everybody at home knew."
"I'm just saying." Zane kept his voice level. "Girls can sleep with whoever they want. I don't really care personally. Long as nobody's getting hurt, it's their business."
"Sure, sure." Brody waved a hand, agreeing without agreeing, already reaching for his phone again. "Very noble of you, dude. All the woke-ass profs gonna love you.”
Zane let it drop. He opened his phone and spent the next several minutes in silence trying to find Luc Simon on social media. He was still thinking about the amazing sex he himself just had.
Brody set his phone down after a minute and looked over at Zane, who was still lying there staring at the ceiling.
"You're quiet tonight," Brody said. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. "You good?"
"Yeah. Tired." Zane didn't move. "Long day.”
Brody studied him for a second longer than felt comfortable. “By the way, you hook up with any girls yet? I haven't seen you bring anybody around."
"It's been three days, man."
"So?" Brody grinned. "You even into anybody? Like got your eye on anyone? You never talk about it."
Zane kept his eyes on the ceiling and made himself shrug, easy and slow, like the question was boring instead of a live wire. "Just getting settled in. Not really looking right now. It’s my first year playing college ball, I don’t need any distractions.
“Respect the dedication, man.” Brody nodded, satisfied with the answer. It wasn’t uncommon for athletes to go ‘no fap’ or otherwise remain celibate to stay focused.
Zane let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He'd expected the deflection to be harder than it was. But the thing about Brody was that he mostly wanted to hear himself talk, and he'd take the first answer that let him get back to it. That worked in Zane's favor more often than not.
“Bro, I’m gonna shower off and crash," Zane said, sitting up. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes. After Zane stripped down out of the clothes he'd been in all day, he wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his shower caddy off the desk.
Brody sniffed. Then again, a little longer, his head tilting slightly like he was tracking something.
"You smell that?" Brody asked.
Zane went still. "Smell what?"
"I don't know." Brody sniffed a third time, frowning at the air like it had confused him. "There's like—some weird scent in here. Not a bad one… musky…I can't place it." He shook his head. "Weird."
Zane's stomach dropped a little. He never applied deodorant after he showered off when he first got to Luc’s apartment. He remember how Luc got all horny and feral after sniffing the musk from his armpits and his pubes. It was super hot, but Zane found it a bit odd how crazy his BO drove the frenchman.
He'd forgotten about it until right now, standing three feet from his roommate with a towel around his waist while Brody sniffed the air like a dog that had caught a scent.
*Is my own scent really that strong?*, Zane though to himself.
"Probably just the laundry," Zane said, too fast. "Or your gym stuff. I'm gonna go."
Zane didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed his caddy and walked briskly into the hall toward the showers, leaving Brody sitting on the edge of his bed, still sniffing, still frowning, trying to figure out what it was.
Zane came back into the room with his hair damp. The shower had cooled him off and he made sure to apply plenty of deodorant like he usually did. The room had aired out a little while he was gone, and most of Zane’s natural body smell was gone with the door propped open.
Zane dropped his clothes in the hamper, pulled on a clean pair of boxers under the towel, and let the towel fall once he was covered. He climbed into bed and pulled his bedsheets up over himself.
"Night, man," he said.
"Night." Brody didn't look up from his phone for a second, then he set it face-down on his chest and let out a breath. "Man, I don't know what it is tonight. I'm fricken’ horny again already."
Zane kept staring at the ceiling, not sure what to say to that.
"I'm gonna go rub one out in the shower real quick," Brody went on, entirely conversational, like he was announcing he was going to grab a snack. "Then I'll crash. Don't wait up." He rolled off the bed and stretched, joints popping.
"Yeah," Zane said. "Cool. Thanks for the update."
If Brody caught the dry sarcasm in it, he didn't show it. He just grabbed a towel off his desk chair and headed out into the hall, humming something under his breath.
Zane rolled his eyes at the ceiling once the door shut. It genuinely amazed him, the total absence of a filter. Brody would say anything out loud, to anyone, with the same easy confidence…whether he was talking about a girl he'd just fucked or announcing his masturbation schedule to a guy he'd known for three days. *Get a fucking filter, bro.* Zane though silently.
He pulled the sheets up higher and closed his eyes, and tried not to think about the fact that his sexy, muscular roommate was down the hall jacking his cock. Zane mostly succeeded, and he eventually drifted off to sleep.
---
The next afternoon, a couple hundred miles from campus, Ray Whitaker was digging a post hole in his neighbor's backyard with his shirt hanging off the fence rail behind him.
It was hot for early September. Ray had been at it long enough that sweat ran down the middle of his bare back. He was 41, and he still looked great.
Ray owned a contracting business and worked with his body for the past two decades.
He had broad shoulders and a thick, hairy chest with a well-defined groove between his sexy pecs. His dirty blonde hair was cut short and just starting to go gray at the temples. Ray had the same brilliant blue eyes as his son. Anybody who'd met Zane would've clocked the resemblance in a second. Ray was what Zane would look like in twenty years, filled out another size. He set the posthole digger, drove it down, pulled up another few inches of dirt, and moved on to the next one.
Next to him, Brian Little worked the level against a post they'd already set, one hand steadying it while he checked the bubble. Brian was one of the three guys who rented the house next door to Ray. All of three of them were firefighters, all of them in their 20s.
Brian was the one Ray knew best. 6’0”, brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and easygoing in a way that always made him pleasant to be around. He was shirtless too, both of them sweating in the sun. Just two ripped, rugged men putting up a fence on a Saturday late afternoon.
“Can’t reiterate enough how much I ‘predicate you, Ray. You didn't have to come over for this, you know," Brian said, not for the first time. "I could've figured it out myself.”
"You'd have set these crooked and had to do it twice." Ray wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Much faster to have two men on this job.”
That was mostly the truth. The other part was that Ray had been rattling around his own quiet house all morning and the work was a relief…something to do that wasn't staring at the same stack of invoices he'd been staring at all week.
Business had been slow. More than slow. A couple of big jobs had fallen through in the spring, a client had stiffed him on a final payment he was still chasing, and the phone hadn't been ringing the way it used to. Ray didn't mention any of that to Brian. He just dug the next hole.
Money had been on his mind more than he'd have liked lately, and most of it traced back to the same place. Zane had gotten a baseball scholarship to State. A decent one, 25% of tuition, more than Ray had expected the kid to pull. But 25 percent of a number that big still left three-quarters of it, plus the dorm, plus meal plans, plus the thousand small things nobody warned you about.
Ray was covering all of it. He'd told Zane not to worry about it, and he'd meant it, and he intended to keep meaning it even if it meant taking every side job he could get his hands on.
He'd been a single father for almost Zane’s entire life. Zane's mother abandoned the family the boy was a few months old. She struggled with mental health problems that had gotten bigger than either of them could manage, and then one day she was just gone, and after a while Ray stopped waiting for her to come back and started figuring out how to do it by himself.
He'd been doing it by himself ever since. 18 years of it. And now the kid was off at college and the house was quiet and it was driving Ray crazy.
"How's your boy doing out there?" Brian asked, like he'd heard the thought. "He's at State now, right? Started this week?"
"Second day, I think." Ray set the next post and tamped the dirt down around it with his boot. "Haven't heard much. That's usually a good sign at his age. You only hear from 'em when something's wrong."
Brian laughed. "That's fair." He checked the level again. "Good on him, though. D1 baseball scholarship's no joke. Especially at State.”
"No," Ray agreed, and there was something quiet and proud in the word. "It's not."
They knocked off around 3:00 when the sun got to be too much, and Brian went inside and came back with two cold beers from the fridge. They didn't bother with putting shirts back on. Both of them stayed like they were, standing around the kitchen island with their beers, sweat drying on their chests, enjoying the AC.
"To fences," Brian said, and tapped his can against Ray's.
"To fences." Ray took a long pull and set the can down on the counter. It was a good beer. And a good feeling. Ray enjoyed the specific satisfaction of hard work done right, muscles pleasantly worn out, cold beer in a cold kitchen after hours in the sun.
Brian leaned back against the counter, one elbow on the edge, the can hanging loose in his hand. Brian was 26 years old and built like a male model. "You still trying to figure out the money thing?" he asked. "You seem a bit stressed out today.”
Ray huffed out a breath. He wasn't in the habit of talking about it, but the beer was in him and Brian was a good listener. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's been a rough stretch. Couple jobs fell through this spring. Got a guy owes me eleven grand I'll probably never see. And now Zane's college fees on top of it." He turned the can in a slow circle on the counter. "Scholarship covers a quarter of tuition. Rest is on me. I told him not to worry about it, so now I gotta be a man of my word." He shrugged. "I'll figure it out. I always do. Just gotta find a way to bring in more."
Brian nodded slowly, like he'd been waiting for exactly this opening. "You know I've told you before how I make my extra."
"Brian."
"I'm just saying—"
"I'm 41 years old, buddy.” Ray held up a hand, half laughing. "I've got a kid in college. I am not getting up on a stage and taking my clothes off for a room full of drunk women and gay men.”
"See, that's what everybody says right before they do it." Brian grinned and took a sip. "I said the same thing. Now I clear three, four thousand a month working just three nights a week. Cash, mostly. Tips add up faster than you'd think." He let that sit a second. "I'm serious, Ray. A guy who looks like you? Middle-aged, jacked, that whole rugged-daddy thing? Women eat that shit up. There's a huge market for it. You'd make an extra three grand a month, easy. Probably more."
Ray shook his head, but he didn't say no as fast as he had the last time, and Brian caught it.
"You’re thinking about it,” Brian said.
"I am not."
"You hesitated." Brian set his beer down and pushed off the counter, and where before there'd been the whole width of the kitchen between them, now there was less of it. He crossed the floor unhurried, the way a man moves when he knows he's got the room. "You wanna know the real reason guys don't do it? It's not the money. It's that they think they can't. They think they'd get up there and freeze. Look stupid."
Brian stopped a couple feet from Ray, close enough that Ray had to actually decide whether to hold his ground or step back. He held his ground. "But it's not about being some kind of dancer, man. It's about attitude. It's about knowing people are looking at you and being fine with it. You've got that. You just don't know you've got it."
"Brian," Ray said again, but it came out with less behind it.
"Here." Brian's voice dropped into something lower, easier, almost coaching. "Let me show you. It's nothing. Two minutes." He reached out and put a hand flat on Ray's shoulder, and instead of taking it away, he let it slide, slow, down the outside of Ray's arm.
Brian lightly caressed the older man… just tracing, testing to see whether Ray would pull back. "First thing you learn is you don't rush anything. You let 'em wait. You make the whole room lean in." His eyes came up to Ray's, holding there, the grin gone quieter now, something else underneath it. "You feel how that works? How it makes you pay attention?"
Ray didn't move. The kitchen had gone very quiet, and he was suddenly aware of his own heartbeat in a way he hadn't been a minute ago.
"Yeah," Ray said, and his voice came out rougher than he meant it to. "I feel it."
Brian didn't step back. Instead he moved around behind Ray, close, and Ray felt the Brian’s settle again at the small of his back.
"Hold still a sec," Brian murmured, and leaned in.
He put his face near Ray's shoulder and breathed in, slow, along the line of Ray's neck and down toward his arm. Ray had put on deodorant that morning, but a full day of digging in the September heat had worn most of it off, and underneath it there was just a hint of his natural odor: warm, a little salty, something low and male that could never be reproduced in cologne.
Ray had the same rare genetic variation as Zane does, albeit a weaker version. He’d slowly discovered through the years that, if he didn’t wear enough deodorant, his B.O. would drive men crazy. Didn’t matter if they were gay or straight. A deep whiff of his unwashed pit, and instant erection. Ray knew exactly what was about to go down as soon as Brian took a deep inhale against his sweaty armpit.
"God," Brian said, quiet. "You have no idea what you smell like right now, do you."
It wasn't the first time they'd ended up here. There'd been a night in the spring, and once before that, both of them careful never to bring it up afterward, both of them letting it slide back into just being friendly neighbors. But Brian's hand was flat on Ray’s abs now and his mouth was near his ear, and Ray could feel exactly where this was going and found he wasn't putting on the brakes.
"Brian," Ray said, one more time, but it wasn't a no and they both knew it.
“My roommates could be back anytime," Brian said against his neck. His hand moved lower, unhurried, testing. “We can’t do this here." He pulled back and tipped his head toward the yard. “Let’s fuck in the tool shed.”
Brian's hand tightened and Ray set his beer down and said, "Yeah. Okay."
They went out the back and across the yard quickly, and Brian pulled the shed door shut behind them and threw the latch. It was dim inside and warm. Tools hung along the walls and a workbench down one side. Nobody was going to walk in on them here.
Ray reached for him, and Brian came in close, and after that there wasn't much need for talking too much.
Ray grabbed Brian roughly by the neck and kissed him hard. He thrust his tongue deep into the firefighter’s surprised mouth. When he pulled back, a line of drool ran between them.
"On your knees," Ray said.
Brian went down. He reached for Ray's belt and Ray let him get it open, then shoved his own jeans and boxers down. Ray’s 8-inch cock came out heavy and already hard, the head wet, dirty-blond hair at the base. It hung in Brian's face.
Ray put a hand in Brian's brown hair and pulled him in.
"Open."
Brian opened. Ray pushed the head into his mouth and held him there.
"That's it. Suck on Daddy’s dick.”
Brian took it. He worked the head with his tongue, then pushed down and took more. Ray didn't let him set the pace. He held Brian's head and fucked into his mouth in short strokes. Brian gagged and stayed on it. Spit ran down his chin and onto Ray's balls.
"Fuckkkkk,” Ray said. "Look at you. On your knees in a tool shed sucking your neighbor’s dick"
Brian looked up at him, eyes wet, mouth full.
"You wanted this," Ray said. "You've been after it all afternoon. Take it."
He pushed deeper. Brian's throat closed around him and a wet choking sound came out. Ray eased back enough to let him breathe, then shoved in again.
"Use your tongue, faggot. I know you know how."
Brian did. He licked the underside on every stroke and took what Ray gave him. His own cock was hard against his thigh, untouched. Ray saw it and didn't care yet.
Ray pulled out. A string of spit and pre-cum connected Brian's bottom lip to the head. Ray slapped the wet cock across Brian's mouth, then again.
"Say you want it."
Brian wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “I-I want it."
"Want what."
"Your cock. I want your cock."
"Say it right."
Brian's voice went lower. "I want your fat cock, Ray. Goddammit, I want you to fuck my face and then fuck my ass. Please."
"Good boy."
Ray shoved back into his mouth and used him. He fucked Brian's throat until Brian's hands came up and braced on Ray's thighs, not pushing off, just holding on. Ray's smell was all over both of them now. Sweat, dirt, the day's heat coming off his groin. Brian made a hungry noise around him and shoved his nose into the hair at the base on the downstroke. The pheromones were driving the study firefighter crazy.
Ray pulled him off before he came. He didn’t want to cum down Brian’s throat. Not yet at least.
"Get up."
Brian stood. Ray turned him and shoved him face-first into the wall between two hanging shovels. Brian's hands hit the wood. Ray kicked his feet apart and yanked his shorts and underwear down to his knees.
Brian's ass was tan and tight. Ray hawked up from mucus from his throat, spit in his palm, lubed himself up with the spit (plus some additional silicone lube that he had brought into the shed), and pressed the head to Brian's hole.
"I'm not going to be easy on you," Ray said against his ear.
"Don't be."
Ray pushed in.
Brian's breath punched out of him. Ray didn't stop at the head. He gave him more, slow only because Brian was tight, and when Brian clenched Ray put a hand on the back of his neck and pinned him to the wall.
"Breathe. Push out and take it, faggot."
Brian breathed. He pushed back. Ray slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush and his balls were against Brian's.
"Fuck," Brian said. "You're—fuck, you're in me."
"Yeahhhhh buddy, I’m bottoming out. Daddy’s all the way in.”
Ray pulled almost out and drove back in. The shed shook. A can of nails jumped on the workbench. He set a hard rhythm and kept it. Every thrust flattened Brian against the wall. Brian's cock rubbed the wood and left a wet smear.
"Take that dick," Ray said. "That's what you brought me out here for."
"Yes—"
"Say it."
"I wanted your cock all day, man. I needed your cock in my ass."
Ray grabbed a handful of Brian's hair and turned his head enough to talk into his mouth. "You're a dirty fucking slut when nobody's watching. You know that?"
"Yeah."
"Say it."
"I'm a slut. I'm your faggot. No fuck me. Fuck the shit out of me dude.”
Ray pounded him harder. His pubes slapped against Brian's ass. Sweat ran down both of them. The wet sound balls slapping filled the little shed. Ray reached around and got a fist on Brian's cock and stroked him rough, same pace as the thrusts.
Brian's hole tightened.
"You gonna come on my cock?" Ray said.
"Yeah—Ray—I’m—fuck, Daddy!”
"Do it. Come while I fuck you."
Brian came against the wall. Thick ropes hit the wood and Ray's fist. His ass clamped down and a broken sound came out of him. Ray didn't ease up. He fucked him through it until Brian was shaking and dripping.
"Good," Ray said. "Now take mine."
He planted both hands on the wall and drove in deep. His hips stuttered. He came inside the young firefighter in long pulses, buried to the base, breathing hard against the back of Brian's neck.
"Fuck—take it—AGHHHHH…FUCKING A—yeah…. ugh, ugh, ugh….take that load—"
Brian took it like a good boy. He pushed back and held himself there until Ray was done.
Ray stayed in him a few seconds after. Then he pulled out slow. Cum followed, running down Brian's thigh. Ray looked at it. He put two fingers through the mess and pushed some of it back in.
Brian turned his head. His mouth was open. He was still trying to get his breath.
"Taste Daddy’s cum,” Ray said.
Brian didn't argue. Ray brought his fingers up and Brian sucked them clean.
Afterwards, the two sexy men got themselves back together in the cramped space, finding shirts and belts by feel, both of them still catching their breath. Brian dropped onto the edge of the workbench and huffed out a laugh.
"You keep saying you're too old for sex stuff," he said. "You keep proving yourself wrong."
Ray pulled his shirt on over his head. His pulse was still coming down. "That was different from a stage full of strangers."
"Little bit." Brian grinned, then let it settle into something more level. He watched Ray for a second. "You okay? You went somewhere for a minute there."
Ray leaned back against the wall and thought about how to answer that. The truth was he'd been fine right up until it was over, and then the quiet had come back in and brought the whole rest of his life with it…the empty house, the business phone that wasn't ringing, the kid a couple hundred miles away he was trying to keep afloat.
It wasn't guilt, exactly. It was more the feeling of being 41 and standing in a tool shed realizing he didn't have most of it figured out the way a man his age was supposed to.
"I'm alright," he said. "Just got a lot on my mind lately."
Brian nodded slowly, and didn't push it, which Ray appreciated. He reached over and grabbed the two warm beers they'd abandoned by the door on the way in.
"Offer stands, you know," Brian said, handing one over. "The strip club. I’ll give you a great reference, not that you’d need one. I’m not saying it fixes everything. I'm just saying it's 3 fucking grand a month, and you're better built for it than half the strippers already doing it." He cracked his can. "Think about it for real this time. That's all."
Excited to keep on writing this story and hear what you all think! Hope you guys don't mind the slow pace that Brody and Zane's relationship is developing at. Zane will take his time exploring his sexuality with other men before Brody eventually takes control. Likewise, the domination/kinky/humilliation themes will probably continue to slowly build with each chapter.
Until then, who do you think Zane should explore with? More Luc? A classmate? Professor? Resident Assistant? A DL football coach, perhaps?
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
