Cracks in the Porcelain
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
Randy didn’t text Liam the next day.
Or the day after that.
He let the space stretch, curious to see what Liam would do.
It didn’t take long.
On the third day, just after noon, Randy’s phone buzzed on the edge of his desk. He didn’t rush to pick it up. He finished scribbling a note, stretched, then lazily thumbed the screen.
Liam: Hey. Hope you’re good. Um… I’m still following your rule. Just wanted you to know.
Randy let the faintest smile curve his mouth.
A minute later, another message appeared:
Liam: If you want to see me again, I’m free tonight.
Randy leaned back in his chair, rolling the words over in his head.
Hungry little thing.
He waited ten more minutes, deliberately, before tapping out his reply.
Randy: Come to mine tonight. Bring nothing but yourself. I’m hard already just thinking about you.
He didn’t add more.
He didn’t need to.
Liam arrived just after eight, cheeks flushed, hair a little windblown, wearing the same fitted jacket and jeans Randy had undressed him from before. He looked good. Nervous, sure, but good: bright-eyed, alert, almost buzzing under his skin.
“Hey,” Liam breathed, his voice soft and catching faintly.
Randy didn’t let him finish. He stepped forward, slid a hand into Liam’s hair, and kissed him, slow, claiming, pressing Liam back just enough to remind him who was in control.
Liam melted into it instantly, his fingers twitching faintly at his sides, his whole body softening under Randy’s grip.
When Randy pulled back, his thumb brushed lightly along Liam’s lower lip.
“Take off your clothes,” he murmured. “All of them.”
Liam hesitated just a second, then obeyed, fingers fumbling slightly at the buttons, the zipper, the waistband. His cock was already half-hard by the time he stood bare, flushed down his chest, his eyes flicking up nervously, waiting.
Randy circled him once, slow, deliberate, one hand grazing lightly along Liam’s shoulder, down his spine, resting at the small of his back.
“You missed this, didn’t you?”
Liam’s breath hitched. “Yes, Sir.”
Randy smiled faintly. “Good. You’re going to show me just how much.”
Randy circled Liam again slowly, watching the boy stand bare, flushed, half-hard, waiting.
Randy himself hadn’t changed after the gym, from where he’d just returned. His tight black tank still clung damp to his chest and shoulders, dark patches of sweat spread under his arms, gym shorts hanging low on his hips. His skin glistened faintly in the warm apartment light, his hair still messy, the heat of exertion radiating off him in waves.
He watched Liam’s gaze flicker up, then down again, the boy’s lips parting slightly, his chest rising faster, a faint, hungry shiver rippling through him.
Randy smiled faintly.
“On your knees.”
Liam sank down without hesitation.
Randy stepped closer, hooking one arm behind his head, deliberately stretching his shoulder, letting the dark, damp curve of his armpit hover just inches from Liam’s wide-eyed face.
“Smell how hard I worked for you,” Randy murmured, voice low, almost a growl.
Liam let out the faintest whimper, his nose pressing in tentatively at first, then deeper, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in the salty, musky heat. His body shuddered faintly, a soft, broken sound vibrating up his throat as he nuzzled closer, helpless in the pull of it.
Randy’s cock throbbed hard, pulsing thick and heavy inside his shorts as he watched the boy fall apart, slack-jawed, needy, trembling, the faintest edge of desperation sharpening his every movement.
“Good boy,” Randy murmured, fingers threading into Liam’s hair, guiding him from one side to the other, rubbing his face in deep. “Such a good little bitch for me.”
Liam moaned softly, his lips grazing wetly against the sweat-slick skin, his breath hitching, his thighs trembling with pent-up need.
Randy’s hand tightened briefly in his hair, holding him there, savoring the sight, the sound, the helpless collapse of the boy at his feet.
“Yeah,” Randy muttered softly, more to himself than to Liam, a dark, satisfied smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “You’re fucking perfect like this.”
Randy kept Liam pressed in, his face buried deep against the sweat-damp curve of his armpit, until the boy was shuddering, barely holding himself upright.
Then, slowly, Randy guided him back by the hair, tilting his head up.
“Open.”
Liam’s mouth fell open at once, breath shaky, eyes wide and dark.
Randy reached down, sliding his gym shorts down just enough to free his cock, thick, flushed, already dripping precum. He pressed it slowly to Liam’s lips, feeling the soft, wet heat of his mouth wrap around him, the faint, desperate whimper vibrating up his throat.
“Good,” Randy murmured, rocking his hips forward, setting a slow, heavy rhythm.
As Liam sucked, Randy brought one hand to the back of his own neck, tugging the soaked tank up and over his head, tossing it aside. His chest glistened in the warm light, slick with sweat, muscles flexing faintly with each thrust, the faint trail of damp hair between his pecs glistening.
“Lick me,” Randy ordered softly, pulling his cock free for a moment, guiding Liam’s mouth to his chest.
Liam obeyed instantly, his tongue sliding across the salty, sweat-slicked skin, licking up along Randy’s body until he reached the curve of Randy’s pec, around his nipple, tracing the damp line down his stomach. His hands trembled faintly where they gripped Randy’s hips, his breath catching on soft, helpless sounds.
Randy let out a low, satisfied groan, curling one hand around the back of Liam’s head, guiding him lower.
“Yeah, now back down.”
Liam’s mouth traced lower, licking along the waistband of the gym shorts, over the musky crease where thigh met groin, nuzzling at Randy’s heavy, sweat-damp balls. His tongue flicked, eager, tentative, tasting the salt and heat, drawing a sharp inhale from Randy’s chest.
“Good boy,” Randy muttered, his voice rough with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re good at this.”
Randy walked backwards, beckoning Liam to follow — crawling — and walked into the small bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs lazily.
“Kiss my feet.”
Liam hesitated just a moment — just long enough to make Randy’s cock twitch with sharp, dark delight — then lowered himself further, pressing his mouth to Randy’s damp, bare foot, licking along the arch, the side, kissing the sweaty skin without a word.
Randy watched him with a slow, curling smile, chest rising and falling, one hand lazily stroking himself as the boy worked.
When he’d had enough, Randy reached down, grabbed Liam by the arm, and hauled him back up roughly, pushing him facedown over the bed.
He worked the boy open fast, fingers slick, moving with a rough, practiced efficiency that left Liam gasping, writhing, his thighs trembling with the effort to stay relaxed.
Then Randy pressed in — one long, thick push, grinding in deep, his sweat-slick chest draped over Liam’s back, his breath hot and heavy at the boy’s ear.
“Fucking perfect,” Randy murmured, biting down lightly at Liam’s shoulder. “You’re perfect like this.”
Liam let out a choked, broken moan, his hands clawing at the sheets as Randy set a hard, punishing rhythm, driving into him over and over, the slap of sweat-damp skin filling the room.
Randy ground down, grinding deep, his cock pulsing thick inside Liam, sweat dripping from his chest onto the boy’s back, his hands gripping Liam’s hips hard enough to leave bruises.
“Such a good little bitch,” Randy growled softly, rocking harder, faster, feeling the hot wave of his orgasm start to crest. “Taking all of me, every inch, no complaints…”
Liam cried out, shaking, helpless, his own cock untouched, leaking onto the sheets, his whole body stretched wide, trembling, straining under the relentless, sweat-drenched use.
Randy set a heavy, punishing rhythm, grinding Liam down into the mattress, his cock driving deep, his sweat-slick chest pressed hard along the boy’s back.
The room was filled with it: the slap of skin, the sharp, helpless gasps Liam gave with every thrust, the faint creak of the bed frame, the wet sounds of lube and sweat and need.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Randy murmured low, biting lightly at Liam’s shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against the boy’s neck. “Take it for me, good boy. Take every fucking inch.”
Liam moaned weakly, his body trembling under the relentless force, his hands clutching at the sheets, his cock twitching helplessly, untouched, leaking a messy, steady trail onto the crumpled bedding.
Randy shifted his angle, grinding deeper, pushing Liam open wider, savoring the raw stretch, the shuddering strain, the faint, broken sob that hitched in Liam’s throat.
He fucked him like that for a long time — not rushing, not chasing his own edge, just grinding the boy down, working him, making sure Liam knew that he was being taken.
“Fuck,” Randy muttered under his breath, his fingers digging hard into Liam’s hips, sweat dripping in small, hot trails down his chest, splashing faintly against Liam’s back. “You’re so fucking good, you don’t even know.”
Liam let out a choked, desperate noise, his whole body jolting under each deep, relentless thrust, the muscles in his thighs shaking with the effort to hold position.
When Randy finally let himself go, it was with a low, guttural groan, his cock pulsing thick and hard, burying himself deep as he spilled inside, hips grinding forward, fingers digging deep into Liam’s skin.
He stayed there for a moment, panting, his sweat-slick body draped heavily over Liam’s, feeling the boy shudder faintly under him, wrecked and trembling, still hard, still untouched.
Slowly, Randy eased back, pulling out, watching the faint wince and shiver ripple down Liam’s spine.
“Roll over,” Randy murmured softly, voice rough.
Liam obeyed, boneless, blinking up dazed and flushed, his mouth falling open faintly in breathless little pants.
Randy smirked, leaned over, and spat — thick and slow — straight into Liam’s waiting mouth.
“Good boy,” Randy murmured, chuckling low as he cupped the boy’s jaw, brushing a thumb gently along the spit-wet bottom lip.
He pet Liam’s hair slowly, affectionately, fingers stroking through the damp, tangled mess, his other hand resting possessively at the boy’s throat.
“Mine,” Randy whispered, more to himself than to Liam, a dark, satisfied glint flickering behind his eyes. “All fucking mine.”
Randy pulled back, his cock wet, glistening, streaked from the rough fuck.
He didn’t bother reaching for anything.
Instead, he gripped Liam’s jaw gently, tilting his dazed, flushed face up.
“Open, good boy.”
Liam parted his lips without hesitation, eyes glassy, mouth slack.
Randy slid himself back between those spit-slick lips, rocking his cock forward just enough to feel the soft pull, the careful lick of Liam’s tongue, the quiet, trembling effort as the boy worked to clean every inch.
“Fuck,” Randy muttered, a crooked, satisfied grin tugging at his mouth. His fingers threaded into Liam’s messy hair, stroking lightly, petting him in slow, lazy sweeps. “You’re perfect like this. Fucking perfect.”
When he was satisfied, he let his cock slip free, brushing his thumb lightly along Liam’s bottom lip one last time.
“Good boy,” Randy murmured softly, dropping a final kiss to Liam’s sweaty forehead.
Another good showing….
Randy didn’t text right away. He let two, three days pass — watching the space between them stretch, curious to see how Liam would fill it.
Liam cracked first, just like before.
A text late at night, short, needy: Thinking about you. Hard.
Randy let the corner of his mouth curl faintly. He waited before answering, savoring the small throb of satisfaction.
Randy kept calm, measured.
He wasn’t needy. He wasn’t chasing.
He gave Liam space, but kept a thread between them, tight and invisible, tugged every so often to remind the boy who was holding it.
Randy: Tell me if you’re thinking about me right now.
Liam’s answer came quick, breathless: Yeah. Always.
Randy smiled faintly.
Randy: Don’t touch yourself.
Liam: Yes, Sir.
But when they met up next, Randy knew immediately.
He could feel it in the way Liam’s body responded — or didn’t.
A stiffness, a slight edge missing, a flicker of guilt behind his eyes.
Later, when pressed, Liam admitted it in a text: I’m sorry. I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t help it, I came last night.
Randy sat with that message, calm and quiet. He wasn’t angry. But he wasn’t pleased either.
A day later, they passed each other in the hallway between classes.
Liam grinned, casual, easy, like nothing had shifted. “Hey, you.”
Randy quirked an eyebrow.
Liam reached out, gave his arm a little playful squeeze.
Randy let it happen, but inside, a quiet thought sharpened.
If Liam wanted them to be more than just occasional hookups — if he wanted something deeper, something like boyfriends —
he needed to understand:
Randy led.
Not just in bed, but everywhere.
That night, Randy sent a text:
Send me a picture. Just for me.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Twenty.
Finally, Liam answered: Sorry, pretty tired now. Can I later?
Randy let his phone rest on the table, his fingers tapping lightly, calmly.
Later, another message:
What are you thinking about right now? Tell me. Don’t filter it.
No answer.
By the third slip, Randy knew what was happening.
It wasn’t that Liam was deliberately pulling away.
It was that the boy’s mouth had promised a kind of surrender his heart — or his will — couldn’t quite follow through on.
And Randy, watching carefully, feeling the cool edge of disappointment settle into his chest, realized:
this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
The moment when he’d know whether Liam was truly his.
Or whether he was just another boy who liked the fantasy more than the reality.
The slips didn’t stop.
One night, Randy messaged simply:
Are you hard right now?
Liam replied: Haha, no, just finished dinner. Why?
Too casual. Too light.
Another night, Randy sent a quiet, simple message:
Come over. I want you tonight.
Liam’s reply came a little too fast, a little too easy:
Ahh, can’t — busy with school work. Tomorrow?
Randy responded:
Clear your evening for me. You’ll be here at nine.
Liam sent back: I really wanna get this done tonight. Can we shift to later this week?
Randy set his phone down calmly, fingers tapping lightly against the table.
What he was asking wasn’t unreasonable. Not after what Liam had promised.
Randy’s patience was thinning.
Each time Liam deferred, each time he delayed, Randy felt it:
the gap between what the boy had said he wanted —
and what he was actually able, or willing, to give, was growing.
A few days later, after class, Liam found him in the quad, bright-eyed, slightly flushed, grinning up at him.
“Hey,” Liam said quickly, “I know I’ve been… kinda flaky. Sorry. You free later? We could grab a drink?”
Randy studied him quietly, cool and unreadable.
“You still want this?” he asked softly.
Liam’s grin faltered. His breath hitched faintly. “Yeah,” he said fast. “Yeah, I do. I swear. I’ll do better. Please.”
Randy let the faintest smile tug at the edge of his mouth.
He reached out, brushed a knuckle lightly along Liam’s jaw.
“Alright,” he murmured. “One more chance.”
Liam let out a shaky breath, smiling faintly, eyes wide, a little dazed.
And Randy, calm and thoughtful, already knew:
the next time, there’d be no more slack.
Randy watched Liam walk away, backpack slung over one shoulder, chatting easily with another classmate, head tilting back as he laughed.
He let his eyes linger.
Liam’s body had always caught him — the lean, runner’s frame, the long legs, the taut little ass that flexed just right under jeans, the soft curve of his mouth when he smiled without thinking.
Even now, even after the slips, Randy felt that low, hungry thrum in his gut, just watching the boy move, imagining his mouth, his skin, the way he’d tremble under Randy’s hands.
Yeah.
He was still here, still holding the thread.
Not just because Liam had promised to do better.
But because Liam was hot as fuck.
And Randy wanted him.
Wanted to see if that pretty mouth, that beautiful, needy body, could learn to give him everything he asked for.
With a slow, faint smile curling at his mouth, Randy turned away, slipping his phone into his pocket.
One more chance.
He’d give the boy one more.
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Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
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