"Goddamn ref's blind as a bat," Niko muttered, sinking deeper into the couch as the replay showed yet another missed holding call. The game blared from the flatscreen mounted on his apartment's exposed brick wall, the glow casting sharp shadows across his thickly muscled deep-brown shoulders. He shifted slightly, the leather creaking under his weight, and absently reached down to stroke the kneeling naked figure's buzz-cut hair.
His slave worked diligently between his spread thighs, its warm mouth gliding up and down his already hardening cock with practiced ease. The AC hummed weakly against the late summer heat, carrying the faint scent of coconut oil from Niko's freshly shaved skin. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple—not from exertion, just the natural furnace of his body—and he wiped it away with the back of his hand without breaking focus from the screen.
Something twinged low in his gut. Not arousal—he was already halfway there—but the unmistakable pressure of his bowels. Niko sighed, patting his slave's head twice in quick succession. The mouth withdrew instantly, chin glistening. "Bathroom," he said, pushing himself up from the couch. A second slave, which had been kneeling motionless by the entertainment unit, rose smoothly and followed three paces behind as its owner strode down the hallway.
The bathroom tiles felt cool under Niko's feet. He sat on the toilet, letting gravity do the work while his free hand scrolled through his phone. The slave assumed its position beside him, head bowed, spine straight, waiting. When he finished, Niko nudged the toilet paper roll with his knee. The slave tore off several squares, folded them neatly, and leaned in to wipe. It worked carefully and methodically, before reaching for a fresh wad of paper to make certain nothing had been missed.
Then came the tongue—broad strokes at first, then teasing circles that made Niko's breath hitch. By the time the lips reached his taint, he was fully hard, jutting upward against his own abs. Niko grabbed a handful of the slave's curly blonde hair and pulled it upright without ceremony. "Turn around," he ordered.
The slave obeyed instantly, pivoting on its knees until its back pressed against Niko's thighs. He didn't need to guide it further—it knew the drill, arching its spine to present itself, hands clasped behind its neck. Niko spat into his palm, gave himself two rough strokes, then lined up and pushed in without preamble. The slave's breath hitched, but it stayed perfectly still, taking its owner's massive penis inch by inch until his hips met the backs of its thighs.
Niko let out a slow breath through his nose, rolling his shoulders to settle into the rhythm. The bathroom was quiet except for the slick sounds of their bodies and the distant commentary from the TV. He palmed the slave's hip with one hand, the other braced against the wall for leverage, and set a steady pace. Not rough, not tender—just effective. The slave's muscles fluttered around him, warm and tight, and he smirked when it suppressed a whimper.
Halfway through, Niko reached forward and hooked two fingers into the slave's mouth, pulling its head back against his shoulder. "Eyes open," he murmured, watching its lashes flutter as it fought to focus. The mirror above the sink gave him a perfect view—the slave's flushed face, the way its thighs trembled when he angled deeper , his own powerful biceps flexing with each thrust. He held its gaze until his slave's pupils blew wide, then chuckled and released its jaw to grip its hip again.
When he felt his orgasm building, Niko tightened his hold and drove in hard, burying himself to the hilt as he came. The slave shuddered but held position, waiting until its owner pulled out before turning around on shaky knees. It didn't hesitate, ducking its head to lap up the mess with quick licks. Niko absently carded his fingers through its hair, watching the top of its head bob until he was clean.
"Toilet," he said finally, nudging it aside as he stood. The slave bowed its head and reached for the brush, scrubbing the bowl with mechanical precision while Niko stretched, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. He glanced at the mirror, then walked out leaving the slave to finish its task, his virile member, now flaccid, heavily swaying from side to side. The game was still on, and the other slave hadn't moved from its spot by the couch, head bowed patiently. Niko settled back into the leather with a grunt, spreading his legs. "Go on," he commanded.
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