The basement air had cooled slightly, but the heat radiating from five massive himbo bodies kept the space warm and thick with musk. Chase sat curled on Wyatt's lap, still catching his breath, cum-slicked lips tingling, throat raw in the best way. The TV flickered forgotten in the background, some sports commentary droning on that none of them were listening to anymore.
"Who's next?" Wyatt had asked, but his arms tightened possessively around Chase's waist, big hands splayed across his tight stomach under the crop top. The redhead nuzzled into Chase's neck, breathing him in deep. "Actually... nah. Pretty boy needs a break."
Tanner groaned from the couch, his ten-incher still rock-hard and leaking. "Bro, come on. Look at those lips. I wanna feel 'em wrapped around me."
"Later," Wyatt said, voice firm but dopey, that protective edge cutting through the himbo haze. He shifted Chase more securely against his chest, one hand moving up to play with the blond's wavy hair. "He just took twelve inches down his throat. Let him breathe."
Ethan chuckled, stroking himself lazily. "Damn, Wyatt's got it bad. Look at him—all protective and shit."
Cole and Jason exchanged grins, but they didn't push. Instead, they sprawled closer, forming a loose circle around the couch. The energy shifted from urgent and hungry to something softer, more playful. Tanner reached over to run a hand down Chase's bare thigh, squeezing gently. "You good, cutie? That was hot as fuck, watching you choke on Wyatt's monster."
Chase nodded, cheeks flushed, voice hoarse. "Yeah... I'm good."
"More than good," Jason rumbled, his dark eyes warm. "You're perfect, bro. Sexiest thing I've ever seen."
They settled into easy touches after that—hands roaming but gentle, kisses stolen but sweet. Ethan leaned in to kiss Chase's shoulder, lips soft against his smooth skin. Cole brushed his fingers through Chase's hair, murmuring something about how pretty he looked all wrecked. Tanner massaged his calves, thumbs digging into the muscle in a way that made Chase melt.
But Wyatt... Wyatt was different. He kept Chase close, one arm always around him, fingers tracing idle patterns on his hip. When Tanner tried to pull Chase over for a make-out session, Wyatt let him—but his hand stayed on Chase's lower back, grounding, reassuring. And when Chase came back, breathless from Tanner's sloppy kisses, Wyatt pulled him right back into his lap, pressing a tender kiss to his temple.
"You're mine tonight," Wyatt murmured against his ear, so quiet only Chase could hear. "Gonna take care of you, pretty boy."
Chase's heart did something complicated in his chest. He turned his head, catching Wyatt's lips in a slow, deep kiss—no urgency, just warmth and connection. Wyatt's tongue slid against his, lazy and thorough, tasting himself in Chase's mouth. When they broke apart, Wyatt's hazel eyes were soft, almost clear for a moment before the himbo fog rolled back in.
They ended up in a pile on the sectional—Chase sandwiched between Wyatt and Ethan, Tanner's head on his thigh, Cole and Jason sprawled at their feet. Hands wandered, cocks stayed half-hard, but it was more about touch than sex now. Chase felt safe, surrounded, wanted. Wyatt's fingers never stopped moving—stroking his hair, rubbing his back, occasionally dipping under his shorts to squeeze his ass possessively but gently.
"Stay over," Wyatt said eventually, voice thick with sleep. "Don't wanna let you go yet."
Chase should've said no. Should've gone home, called that number on the vial, figured out what the hell was happening. But Wyatt's arms were so warm, and the way he held Chase—like he was something precious—made it impossible to leave.
"Okay," Chase whispered. "I'll stay."
Chase woke to golden morning light streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the warm weight of Wyatt's arm draped across his waist. The redhead was still asleep, face peaceful, red hair tousled across the pillow. They were in Wyatt's bed—Chase vaguely remembered stumbling upstairs sometime after midnight, the other guys crashing in the basement. Wyatt had insisted Chase take the bed, then climbed in beside him, pulling him close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Chase's crop top had ridden up in the night, and Wyatt's hand rested on his bare stomach, fingers splayed possessively even in sleep. Chase should've felt trapped. Instead, he felt... safe.
He carefully extracted himself, Wyatt mumbling something incoherent but not waking. Chase's shorts were twisted, jockstrap riding up uncomfortably. He adjusted himself, then froze.
There, on Wyatt's nightstand, next to a half-empty water bottle and a phone charging cable, was the vial.
Chase's heart kicked into overdrive. He grabbed it, hands shaking slightly as he read the label again in the morning light.
NEW BATCH: HIMBO-MAKER
Property of H_M Neuroceuticals – Experimental Only
Emergency Contact: 1-800-555-XAIN
He glanced at Wyatt—still sleeping, chest rising and falling slowly, looking like every wet dream Chase had ever had. Then he slipped out of the room, padding downstairs in bare feet. The house was quiet, Wyatt's parents apparently already gone for the day.
Chase found his phone in his jeans pocket, took a deep breath, and dialed.
The line rang once. Twice. Then clicked over to an automated system, the voice crisp and professional but utterly impersonal.
"Thank you for contacting H_M Neuroceuticals Emergency Containment Division. If you are calling regarding an exposure incident, please note that all active compounds are currently undergoing Phase Three trials and are not approved for public use. For incident reporting, please visit our facility at 2847 Riverside Industrial Park, Building C, between the hours of 9 AM and 5 PM, Monday through Friday. Please bring any remaining sample material and be prepared to provide detailed exposure information. This line is not monitored. Thank you."
Click.
Chase stared at his phone, frustration bubbling up. No real answers. No emergency hotline. Just an address and business hours like this was some mundane corporate bullshit and not a situation where half the senior class had turned into horny, muscle-bound himbos overnight.
He looked at the vial again, then up at the ceiling, where Wyatt was sleeping. Part of him wanted to march down to that lab right now, demand answers. But another part—the part that was still tingling from last night, that felt the ghost of Wyatt's protective arms around him—wasn't sure he wanted things to go back to normal.
Not yet, anyway.
By Monday morning, Chase had almost convinced himself it was all temporary. Maybe the effects would wear off over the weekend. Maybe the guys would wake up Monday, shake their heads, and wonder why they'd spent Friday night groping their gay teammate.
He was wrong.
The hallways of the school buzzed with the usual Monday chaos—lockers slamming, voices echoing, the smell of cafeteria breakfast wafting through the corridors. And there they were: Wyatt, Tanner, Ethan, Cole, Jason, and at least a dozen other guys from the senior class who'd showered Thursday after practice. All of them still massive, still dumb, still horny.
Wyatt spotted Chase immediately, face lighting up with that dopey grin. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that looked painted on, every ridge of his pecs and abs visible, jeans slung low on his hips. He bounded over like an oversized puppy, scooping Chase up in a hug that lifted him off his feet.
"Pretty boy! Missed you this weekend." Wyatt buried his face in Chase's neck, inhaling deep. "You smell so fuckin' good. Like... sunshine and sex."
Chase's cheeks burned as students streamed past them. But nobody stared. Nobody whispered. A few girls giggled, but it was the usual "aw, boys being boys" kind of giggle, not shock or scandal.
"Wyatt," Chase hissed, squirming. "People are watching."
"So?" Wyatt set him down but kept one arm around his waist, hand dipping low to squeeze his ass through his jeans. "Let 'em watch. You're mine."
Down the hall, Tanner had cornered some sophomore girl who was clearly trying to flirt with him. But Tanner's eyes kept drifting over her shoulder to where Chase stood, his expression vacant and uninterested. "Yeah, cool, whatever," he said to the girl, then brushed past her to join Wyatt and Chase. "Yo, bubble butt. Lookin' good today. Those jeans huggin' you just right."
The girl looked confused but not suspicious. Like Tanner being a little spacey and distracted was just... normal.
Ethan and Cole appeared from the other direction, both shirtless under their open hoodies despite the dress code, abs on full display. They flanked Chase, Ethan ruffling his hair while Cole traced a finger down his spine.
"Gonna sit with us at lunch, cutie?" Ethan asked, voice low and flirty.
"Yeah," Chase managed, head spinning. "Sure."
Nobody questioned it. Nobody seemed to notice that the straightest guys in school were now openly groping and flirting with another guy. It was like the himbo transformation had come with some kind of perception filter—everyone just accepted it as normal.
Chase's stomach twisted. This wasn't temporary. This was the new reality.
Fourth period: AP Literature. Chase usually loved this class—small, quiet, full of actual discussion instead of the usual high school bullshit. He slid into his usual seat at the back, pulling out his notebook and the battered copy of The Great Gatsby they were supposed to be analyzing.
The seat next to him scraped back.
Wyatt dropped into it, all six-foot-three of himbo muscle folding into the too-small desk. He wasn't supposed to be in this class—Wyatt was in regular English, two periods earlier. But he grinned at Chase like he belonged here, like he'd always been here.
"Hey, pretty," Wyatt murmured, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over Chase's ear. "Couldn't stop thinkin' about you. Had to see you."
Chase's pulse jumped. "Wyatt, you can't just—"
"Mr. Hayes," the teacher, Mrs. Chen, called from the front. "I don't recall you being on my roster."
Wyatt turned that dopey, charming smile on her. "Oh, yeah, sorry Mrs. C. Guidance sent me. Schedule mix-up or somethin'. Said I could sit in today while they sort it out."
Mrs. Chen frowned but didn't push. "Fine. But please try to keep up. We're discussing symbolism in Chapter Seven."
"Sure thing." Wyatt winked at Chase, then slouched back in his seat, legs spread wide, one thick thigh pressing against Chase's under the desk.
The class started, Mrs. Chen's voice droning on about green lights and the American Dream. Chase tried to focus, pen poised over his notebook. But Wyatt's presence was overwhelming—the heat of him, the faint scent of his body wash, the way his massive frame made the desk look like doll furniture.
Then Wyatt shifted.
Chase's eyes flicked sideways just in time to see Wyatt's hand move to his lap. The redhead glanced at Mrs. Chen—her back was turned, writing on the board—then popped the button on his jeans.
Chase's breath caught.
Wyatt tugged the zipper down slowly, the metallic rasp barely audible under Mrs. Chen's lecture. Then he reached inside and pulled out his cock.
Twelve inches of thick, veiny perfection, already half-hard and swelling fast in his grip. Wyatt wrapped his big hand around the base, thumb stroking up the underside, and started to pump. Slow. Deliberate. His eyes locked on Chase.
Oh god.
Chase's face went nuclear. He stared straight ahead at the board, trying to focus on Mrs. Chen's handwriting, on the words "symbolism" and "disillusionment," but all he could hear was the soft, wet schlick-schlick-schlick of Wyatt jerking off two feet away.
Wyatt's breathing deepened, just slightly—not enough to draw attention, but enough that Chase could hear the faint hitch in it. The redhead's hand moved faster, twisting at the head, smearing pre-cum down the shaft until it glistened in the fluorescent light. His cock throbbed visibly, veins pulsing, the fat mushroom head flushed dark pink.
Chase risked a glance. Wyatt was staring at him, hazel eyes heavy-lidded and hungry, lips parted just enough to show teeth. He mouthed something: So pretty.
Then he squeezed his cock harder, hips lifting slightly off the seat, and a thick bead of pre-cum welled up, dripping onto his thigh.
The wet sounds got louder—schlick-schlick-schlick—slick and obscene. Wyatt's abs flexed under his tight shirt, pecs heaving with each breath. He bit his lip, stifling a groan, and pumped faster, the motion almost frantic now.
Chase's own cock was rock-hard in his jeans, throbbing painfully. He shifted, trying to adjust himself without being obvious, but Wyatt noticed. That dopey grin spread across his face, and he leaned closer, whispering so low only Chase could hear.
"You like watchin' me, pretty boy? Like seein' this fat cock leak for you? Bet you're hard as fuck right now. Bet you wanna drop to your knees and suck me off right here."
Chase bit back a whimper. His hand trembled as he tried to write notes, the words coming out as illegible scribbles.
Wyatt's hand blurred, jerking himself hard and fast now, the wet sounds unmistakable. Pre-cum poured from his slit, coating his fingers, dripping onto the desk. His thigh pressed harder against Chase's, muscles flexing.
Mrs. Chen turned around, and Wyatt immediately slowed, angling his body to hide his lap, but he didn't stop. He kept stroking, slow and teasing, eyes never leaving Chase's flushed face.
"Any questions so far?" Mrs. Chen asked the class.
Silence. Wyatt's cock twitched in his grip.
"Alright, then. Let's move on to the next passage."
She turned back to the board. Wyatt's hand sped up again, the schlick-schlick-schlick resuming, louder now, wetter. His breathing turned ragged, and Chase could see the tension building in his body—abs clenching, thighs flexing, cock swelling even thicker.
"Gonna cum," Wyatt breathed, barely audible. "Gonna cum thinkin' about that tight ass, those pretty lips..."
Chase's heart hammered. He glanced around frantically, but everyone else was focused on the board, on their notes, oblivious.
Wyatt's hips jerked, and he bit down hard on his lip, stifling a groan as his cock erupted. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering onto his thigh, his hand, the underside of the desk. He kept stroking, milking himself, more cum pulsing out in heavy spurts until his lap was a mess of white.
He slumped back, chest heaving, and finally tucked himself away, zipping up like nothing had happened. Then he leaned over, grabbed Chase's hand, and pressed it to the wet spot on his jeans.
"Feel that?" Wyatt whispered, grinning. "All for you, pretty boy."
Chase yanked his hand back, face burning, cock aching. The bell rang, and he bolted from his seat, practically running for the door.
Behind him, Wyatt's laughter followed, low and satisfied.
Chase's bedroom was his sanctuary—walls covered in posters of bands and movies, desk cluttered with textbooks and notebooks, bed unmade but comfortable. He collapsed onto it face-first, groaning into his pillow. His cock was still half-hard from fourth period, and his brain felt like it was short-circuiting.
He needed to focus. Needed to do homework, research that lab, figure out what the hell to do about the himbo situation. He sat up, pulled his laptop onto his lap, and opened his calculus assignment.
Five minutes later, he'd written exactly one equation and spent the rest of the time staring at the wall, replaying the sight of Wyatt's hand wrapped around his cock, the wet sounds, the way he'd stared at Chase like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The doorbell rang downstairs.
Chase ignored it, hunching over his laptop. His mom's voice drifted up—cheerful, welcoming. Then another voice, deeper, smoother.
"Hey, Mrs. Parker. Is Chase home? We're supposed to study together."
Chase's head snapped up. No.
Footsteps on the stairs. His mom's voice getting closer. "Chase, honey! Your friend Wyatt is here!"
The door opened, and there he was—Wyatt in a worn brown bomber jacket over a white t-shirt, jeans that hugged his thick thighs, red hair slightly messy like he'd run his hands through it. He flashed that devastating grin at Chase's mom.
"Thanks, Mrs. P. I'll make sure he actually gets his homework done." Wyatt winked, and Chase's mom actually giggled.
"Such a polite young man. You boys have fun studying!"
She left, closing the door behind her. Wyatt turned to Chase, and the dopey charm melted into pure hunger.
"Wyatt, you can't just—" Chase started, standing up from the bed.
Wyatt crossed the room in two strides, cupped Chase's face in both hands, and kissed him.
It was like being hit by a freight train made of heat and want. Wyatt's lips crashed against his, demanding and desperate, tongue pushing past Chase's surprised gasp to plunge deep. Chase's hands flew up to grip Wyatt's jacket, and he kissed back just as hard, all the tension from the day exploding into this.
Wyatt walked him backward until Chase's knees hit the bed, and they tumbled onto it together, Wyatt's weight pressing him into the mattress. The kiss turned messy fast—tongues sliding, teeth clashing, spit slicking their chins. Wyatt's hands were everywhere, shoving up Chase's shirt to palm his pecs, tweaking his nipples until Chase moaned into his mouth.
"Missed you," Wyatt growled between kisses, grinding his hips down so Chase could feel the massive bulge in his jeans. "Couldn't wait. Needed to taste you again."
Chase's brain tried to form words—something about homework, about his mom downstairs, about how this was insane—but Wyatt's tongue was in his mouth again, licking deep, and all thoughts scattered.
They made out for what felt like hours, hands roaming, bodies grinding. Wyatt shrugged out of his jacket, and Chase tugged his shirt off, revealing that perfect expanse of muscle—pecs like slabs, abs cut deep, a trail of red hair leading down into his jeans. Chase ran his hands over it all, marveling at the heat, the hardness, the way Wyatt shivered under his touch.
"Wanna taste you," Wyatt murmured against Chase's lips, kissing down his jaw, his neck, his chest. "Wanna make you feel good, pretty boy. Gonna eat that virgin ass till you're begging for my cock."
He worked Chase's jeans open, tugging them down along with his briefs until Chase was bare from the waist down. Then Wyatt flipped him over onto his stomach, and Chase's breath hitched. His heart hammered in his chest. This was really happening. He was about to lose his virginity to Wyatt fucking Hayes.
"Holy fuck," Wyatt groaned, hands spreading Chase's cheeks wide. "Look at this perfect bubble butt. So pale and smooth. And this tight little pink hole. Fuck, baby. You're gorgeous. Never seen anything so pretty in my life."
Chase's ass was a work of art. Two perfect globes of pale, creamy flesh, firm and round from years of soccer. The skin was flawless, smooth as silk, and when Wyatt squeezed, his fingers sank into the plush muscle. Between those perfect cheeks, Chase's hole was the palest pink, tight and virgin, clenching nervously under Wyatt's hungry gaze.
Then Wyatt's tongue was there. Hot and wet, licking a long stripe from Chase's balls to his hole. Chase cried out, fisting the sheets, as Wyatt dove in like a man starving. He licked and sucked, tongue circling the tight pink pucker, then pushing inside.
"Oh god. Wyatt." Chase gasped, hips jerking.
Wyatt growled, the vibration sending shocks through Chase's body. He ate him out sloppy and thorough, spit dripping down Chase's thighs, tongue fucking him open until Chase was a writhing, moaning mess. The sounds were obscene. Wet slurps, Wyatt's groans, Chase's breathless whimpers. Wyatt's big hands gripped Chase's ass cheeks, spreading them wider, kneading the flesh as his tongue worked deeper.
"Taste so fucking good," Wyatt mumbled against his skin, pulling back just long enough to spit directly onto Chase's hole, watching it drip down. Then he dove back in, tongue plunging deep. "Could eat this pretty virgin pussy all day. Gonna get you so wet and open for my cock. Gonna ruin this tight little hole."
Chase's cock leaked onto the sheets, untouched and throbbing. He pushed back against Wyatt's face, desperate for more, and Wyatt gave it to him. Tongue plunging deep, fingers joining to stretch him open, scissoring and curling until Chase was sobbing with need. His pale ass cheeks were flushed pink now, jiggling slightly with every movement, clenching around Wyatt's invading fingers.
"Please," Chase whimpered. "Please, Wyatt. I need it."
"Need what, baby? Tell me. Wanna hear you say it."
"Need your cock. Please. I've never... I've never done this before. Want you to be my first."
Wyatt groaned like he'd been punched. "Fuck. You're really a virgin? This perfect ass has never been fucked?"
"No. Never. Only you. Want it to be you."
"Gonna make it so good for you, pretty boy. Gonna make you mine. Gonna be the only cock this tight hole ever remembers."
Finally, Wyatt pulled back, and Chase heard the rustle of jeans being shoved down. Then that massive cock was there, hot and heavy, sliding between his cheeks. Wyatt gripped his own shaft, dragging it up and down, the head catching on Chase's spit-slick hole but not pushing in. He hot-dogged him slowly, the thick shaft rubbing against his sensitive entrance, smearing pre-cum across the pale skin.
"Feel that?" Wyatt rumbled, voice thick. "Feel how hard I am for you? Twelve inches, baby. Twelve thick inches about to split open this virgin hole. Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna breed this tight pussy till you're leaking my cum."
Chase whimpered, pushing back, trying to get Wyatt inside, but the redhead just chuckled and kept teasing. Sliding his cock through the cleft, watching Chase's ass jiggle with every thrust, the thick shaft rubbing and grinding but never penetrating.
"Wyatt, please," Chase begged, voice breaking. "Please fuck me. I can't take it anymore."
"Please what? Beg me properly, pretty boy. Tell me what you want."
"Fuck me," Chase gasped, turning his head to look back at Wyatt with desperate, lust-glazed eyes. "Please fuck my virgin ass. Want you inside me. Want you to take my virginity. Make me yours. Please, Wyatt. Please."
Wyatt groaned, and finally the head of his cock pressed against Chase's entrance. He pushed in slow, so slow, just the tip breaching the tight ring of muscle. The stretch was immediate and intense. Chase tensed, a sharp gasp escaping his lips, and Wyatt immediately stopped.
"Breathe, pretty," Wyatt murmured, leaning down to kiss between Chase's shoulder blades. One hand stroked soothingly down Chase's spine. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna go slow. You're so tight, so perfect. Just relax for me. Let me in."
Chase forced himself to breathe, to relax, and Wyatt pushed in another inch. The burn intensified, the stretch almost too much. Chase had never felt anything like this. So full already and Wyatt was barely inside him. Tears pricked at his eyes, but it wasn't just pain. It was overwhelming. Intense. The reality of losing his virginity, of Wyatt's huge cock opening him up for the first time, crashed over him in waves.
"That's it," Wyatt praised, voice soft and reverent. "Takin' me so well. Look at you, openin' up for my cock. Prettiest virgin boy in the world, lettin' me inside. Lettin' me ruin this tight hole."
Inch by inch, Wyatt worked himself deeper. He paused every few seconds, letting Chase adjust, whispering filthy praise the whole time. "So tight. So warm. Made for me. Gonna ruin you for anyone else. This ass is mine now. My property. My tight little cumdump."
Chase moaned at the degrading words, his hole clenching around Wyatt's invading cock. The stretch was constant, burning, but underneath it was pleasure building. Every inch Wyatt pushed in dragged against sensitive nerves, sent sparks through Chase's body.
When Wyatt finally bottomed out, balls pressed against Chase's ass, they both groaned. Chase felt impossibly full, stretched to his limit, Wyatt's cock throbbing deep inside him. He could feel every inch, every vein, the heat of it burning him from the inside out. His virgin hole clenched and fluttered around the thick intrusion, trying to adjust to the massive size.
"Fuck," Wyatt breathed, forehead resting against Chase's back. "You feel... fuck, baby. So good. So perfect. Tightest hole I've ever felt. Can't believe I'm the first one inside you. Can't believe this virgin ass is all mine."
"Move," Chase gasped. "Please move. Need to feel you."
Wyatt pulled back slowly, and Chase felt every inch dragging out of him. Then Wyatt pushed back in, smooth and deep, and Chase saw stars. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, nothing like he'd imagined. Wyatt's cock dragged against his prostate with every stroke, sending shocks of pleasure through his body.
"Oh god. Oh fuck. Wyatt."
"That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take all of it. Look at this ass, fuck. Look at these pale cheeks spread around my dick. So pretty. So perfect."
Wyatt started to move with purpose. Slow, deep thrusts that made Chase's ass bounce with every impact. The pale globes jiggled, rippling with each thrust, and Wyatt groaned at the sight. He gripped Chase's hips harder, watching his cock disappear into that tight pink hole over and over, watching Chase's virgin ass take him so well.
"Harder," Chase gasped. "Please, Wyatt, harder."
"You sure, baby? Don't wanna hurt you."
"I can take it. Want to feel it. Want you to fuck me like you mean it."
Wyatt growled, gripping Chase's hips bruisingly tight, and slammed in deep. The pace turned brutal. Hips snapping, skin slapping, the room filling with the sounds of their fucking. Chase's ass bounced and jiggled with every thrust, the pale flesh turning pink where Wyatt's hips collided with it. His hole stretched obscenely around Wyatt's thick cock, gripping it tight, the pink rim pulled taut.
"Fuck yes. Take it. Take my cock, you pretty little slut. Look at you, virgin hole taking twelve inches like you were made for it. Gonna breed this tight pussy. Gonna fill you up till you're leaking. You're mine now. My boy. My cumdump. My pretty little cock sleeve."
Chase was lost, drowning in sensation. The stretch, the fullness, the way Wyatt's cock hit that spot inside him over and over. His own cock bounced with every thrust, leaking steadily, untouched but throbbing. He'd never felt anything so intense in his life. Every nerve was on fire, every thrust sending pleasure cascading through his body.
"Wyatt. Fuck. So good. So full."
"Wanna see your face," Wyatt growled suddenly, pulling out. Chase whimpered at the loss, his hole clenching on nothing, feeling empty and used. "Wanna watch you ride my cock. Come here, pretty boy."
Wyatt rolled onto his back, that massive cock standing straight up, slick with spit and pre-cum, throbbing and red. Chase straddled him on shaking legs, thighs trembling as he positioned himself over Wyatt's cock. From this angle, Wyatt had the perfect view. Chase's pale, smooth thighs, the curve of his ass, his pink hole still gaping slightly from being fucked open.
"Look at you," Wyatt breathed, hands gripping Chase's hips. "So fucking pretty. Come on, baby. Sit on my cock. Wanna watch you take it."
Chase reached back, gripping Wyatt's cock, and slowly sank down. The angle was different, deeper, and Chase gasped as the thick head breached him again. Inch by inch, he lowered himself, watching Wyatt's face contort with pleasure, feeling that massive cock fill him up again.
"That's it. Take it all. Fuck, look at your hole stretch around me. So pink and tight. Can't believe this is your first time. Taking cock like a natural. Like you were born to be fucked."
When Chase was fully seated, Wyatt's cock buried balls-deep inside him, they both groaned. Chase felt even fuller in this position, Wyatt's cock pressing against different spots, stretching him in new ways. He rolled his hips experimentally, and Wyatt's hands tightened on his waist.
"Ride me, pretty boy. Wanna see that ass bounce on my cock."
Chase started to move. Lifting up slowly, then sinking back down. His thighs burned with the effort, muscles flexing as he found a rhythm. Up and down, up and down, his ass bouncing on Wyatt's cock. The pale globes jiggled with every drop, rippling beautifully, and Wyatt watched with hungry eyes.
"Fuck yes. Look at you. Look at this perfect ass bouncing on my dick. So pretty. So perfect. Ride me harder, baby. Show me how much you love my cock."
Chase picked up the pace, slamming himself down harder, faster. His ass slapped against Wyatt's thighs, the sound obscene and wet. His hole gripped Wyatt's cock tight, the pink rim stretched taut, pulling and dragging with every movement. Sweat dripped down his back, his thighs trembled, but he didn't stop.
"Such a good boy. Such a good little cock slut. Look at you, virgin ass bouncing on my cock like you've done this a thousand times. Gonna make you my personal fuck toy. Gonna use this tight hole whenever I want."
"Yes," Chase gasped, head thrown back, lost in pleasure. "Yours. I'm yours. Use me. Fuck me. Want your cum inside me."
Wyatt's hands moved to Chase's ass, gripping the cheeks, spreading them wide so he could watch his cock disappear into that tight hole. He thrust up to meet Chase's downward movements, fucking up into him hard and deep. Chase cried out, the pleasure almost too much, his virgin body overwhelmed by sensation.
"Gonna cum," Chase sobbed. "Gonna cum. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Touch yourself, baby. Stroke that pretty cock. Wanna feel you cum on my dick. Wanna feel this virgin hole squeeze me when you cum."
Chase wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking fast and desperate. The dual sensation of Wyatt's cock pounding his prostate and his own hand on his dick was too much. He came with a cry, cum shooting across Wyatt's chest and abs, his hole clenching tight around Wyatt's cock, spasming and fluttering.
"Fuck. Fuck yes. So tight. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed this virgin hole."
Wyatt roared, hands gripping Chase's hips bruisingly tight, and slammed up one last time. Chase felt the hot flood of cum filling him, pulse after pulse, marking him inside. Wyatt's cock throbbed and jerked, pumping load after load into Chase's no-longer-virgin hole. It was so much, so hot, Chase could feel it leaking out around Wyatt's cock, dripping down onto Wyatt's balls.
Chase collapsed forward onto Wyatt's chest, both of them panting and shaking. Wyatt's cock was still inside him, softening slowly, and he made no move to pull out. His arms wrapped around Chase, holding him close, one hand stroking through his sweat-damp hair.
"So good. You're so good, pretty boy. Took my cock so well. Can't believe I got to be your first. Can't believe this perfect ass is mine now."
Chase buried his face in Wyatt's neck, overwhelmed. He'd just lost his virginity. To Wyatt Hayes. And it had been intense and overwhelming and perfect. Tears leaked from his eyes, but they weren't sad. They were relief, satisfaction, emotion he couldn't name.
"Mine," Wyatt murmured, pressing kisses to Chase's temple, his cheek, his lips. "All mine. My pretty boy. My perfect virgin. Not a virgin anymore though, are you? Now you're my used little slut. My cumdump. My boy."
"Yours," Chase whispered back, voice hoarse. "I'm yours."
They stayed like that for long minutes, Wyatt's cock still buried inside Chase, cum leaking out around it. Finally, Wyatt carefully rolled them onto their sides, spooning Chase from behind, arms wrapped tight around him. He pressed kisses to Chase's neck, his shoulder, murmuring soft praise.
"So good. You're so good, pretty boy. Mine. All mine. Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel good every day. This ass belongs to me now."
Chase's eyes drifted closed, exhaustion and satisfaction pulling him under. His body ached in the best way, stretched and used and claimed. Wyatt's warmth surrounded him, protective and safe, and for the first time since this whole thing started, Chase let himself stop worrying.
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