Saturday morning light streamed into the room. Leo was shirtless, lounging on his bed with a game controller, his sweatpants low on his hips, revealing the sharp V of his obliques. Cassian had been talking, pleading, for what felt like hours.
“—just do it, get it done, I can’t stay like this, man, I can’t—”
“You’re ruining my killstreak,” Leo said, not taking his eyes from the screen.
“Fuck your killstreak! I’m a sex toy!”
“I’m aware.” Leo’s thumbs moved deftly. “A very annoying one.”
Cassian seethed, helpless. He watched the play of muscle in Leo’s back as he moved. He hated how perfect he was. He hated the faint trail of hair leading into his sweats. Mostly, he hated the low, persistent throb in his own form, a phantom ache for what had happened the night before. The curse was hungry.
Finally, Leo tossed the controller onto the nightstand. He stretched, his arms over his head, his abs tightening into a perfect eight-pack. He looked over at the dresser. “You really need two more?”
“Y—eah.” It was humiliating but it was true.
Leo stood up and walked over. He picked Cassian up. “Fine.”
Hope surged, stupid and bright. “Really?”
“Really.” Leo carried him to the bed. He lay back against the headboard, the picture of lazy dominance, his sweats tented noticeably. He didn’t take them off. He just held the toy, his other hand slowly stroking the thick bulge straining against his sweatpants. The fabric was dark with a patch of pre-cum.
“But you’re gonna work for it.”
“Work? How? I don’t have fucking arms!”
“You’re a toy, Cassian. A pussy. You move. You squeeze. You fucking milk it out of me.” Leo’s voice was rough.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and slowly, inch by agonizing inch, dragged them down his hips. His cock sprang free, a thick, angry beast jutting up from a nest of dark curls. It was rock-hard, the flushed head a deep, angry red and gleaming with a fat bead of salty juice. The raw, masculine scent of him hit Cassian—a dizzying mix of clean sweat, soap, and pure, uncut musk.
Leo didn’t grab the lube. He brought the toy—that was him—to his face. His tongue, pink and wet, snaked out and laved a long, slow stripe over the silicone opening. A wet, filthy schlick sound echoed in the quiet room. Cassian’s entire form jolted. He could feel it. The slick, rough heat of a tongue on his most sensitive, newly-formed part.
“Gotta taste the merchandise,” Leo rumbled, his voice vibrating through Cassian’s silicone body. He did it again, this time pushing the tip of his tongue inside, a wet, probing invasion that was both disgusting and weirdly titillating. The room filled with the wet, sucking sounds of him eating out the toy. “Tastes like desperation. And my last load.”
He pulled back, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lip to the toy. Then he poured lube directly onto his own cock, the clear gel dripping down the thick shaft and over his heavy balls. He gripped himself, stroking slowly, spreading the slickness. The wet, rhythmic sound of a fist on a hard dick was the only noise.
“I’m not thrusting. You are. You want my come? You earn it.”
He positioned Cassian’s form over himself. The broad, flushed head pressed against the entrance. “Go on. Take it. Sink that tight little cunt down on my dick. Show me how bad you need it.”
Cassian froze. This was worse. So much worse. He had to… to initiate it. To fuck himself on the cock of the man he had a fall out with.
The curse ached. The need was a physical pull. And deeper, under the shame, that same traitorous heat bloomed.
He pushed down.
Cassian was shocked. He could move his inside but it was a slow, torturous slide. He had no limbs, but the curse gave him control over the silicone, a clenching, swallowing will. He felt every ridge, every vein as he swallowed Leo’s length. It was even more intense than being fucked—he was doing it. He was sheathing him.
“Holy fuck. You can actually move,” Leo groaned, his eyes wide. Then his head fell back. “Fuck, yeah. Like that.”
He felt every millimeter of that thick cock as it forced him open, the slick walls of his silicone body stretching to accommodate him. He could control the descent, and he did it slowly, savoring the horrifying, pleasurable drag. He sank until he was fully seated, Leo’s balls pressed tight against the bottom of the toy, the blunt head of his cock kissing the deepest part of him.
Leo jerked instinctively. “Fuck. You took it all.”
Cassian moved. It was a bizarre, undulating motion, the toy rippling and contracting around Leo’s shaft. He could feel it all—the hot, hard reality of Leo inside him, the stretch, the perfect friction. It felt like he was riding him.
“Tighter,” Leo grunted, his hand coming up to grip the base of his cock, holding it steady. “Squeeze me, you fucking tease. Milk my fucking dick.”
Cassian hesitantly obeyed. He clenched the silicone around the base of Leo’s cock, then worked it up the shaft in a slow, milking pulse.
“Fuck. Just like that.”
Leo’s abs clenched tight as Cassian continued riding his cock. Cassian slam down, taking the entire length in one wet, slurping plunge. The room filled with the sounds: the wet shlick of lube, the soft slap of silicone on skin, the deep, guttural groans torn from Leo’s chest.
“Fuck. Just like that. Ride it. Use that fucking cock.”
He obeyed, his movements becoming more confident, more depraved. He learned to twist as he descended, a corkscrewing motion that made Leo’s eyes roll back in his head. He could feel every vein, every pulse of blood inside that hot shaft. He was a machine built for pleasure, and he was using himself on his worst enemy.
“This is fucking insane,” Leo’s voice was rough. “Mmm—fuckkk. That feels so fucking good.”
Cassian focused his will, clenching the silicone walls in a hard, rhythmic pulse. A deep, milking contraction from base to tip.
“Goddamn,” Leo gasped, his hips bucking up involuntarily. “You’re a fucking natural. A born cocksleeve.” He reached down with one hand, his fingers finding his own balls, rolling and tugging them. “Gonna pump you so full. You’re gonna be leaking my cum for a week.”
The words should have disgusted him. Instead, they lit a fire in Cassian’s core. He worked faster, his movements becoming desperate, sloppy. He was chasing his own relief, the completion of the curse, but it felt like more. It felt like need.
Leo’s hips bucked up, meeting his rhythm. “That’s it. Take it all. You’re my toy now. My perfect, greedy little cunt.”
Cassian couldn’t speak. He could only feel. The pressure was building inside him, a phantom orgasm coiling in a body he no longer had. He could feel Leo getting closer, too. The cock inside him seemed to swell, getting even harder, the throbbing more insistent.
Leo’s eyes snapped open, locking onto the toy. “Not yet,” he snarled.
In one fluid, powerful move, he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and held Cassian in his lap, impaled on his cock. “Fuuuuck. Not yet.”
Leo’s abs clenched as he held himself back, pushing his cock so deep. It was steel hard and throbbing so bad like it’s about to burst. Leo managed to hold it back, his cock calming down a little.
"Shit. You almost made me bust."
He stood up, holding the toy in place with one hand, and began to fuck him standing up. Each thrust was a brutal, upward slam, lifting Cassian’s entire body with the force. The angle was different, deeper, hitting a spot inside him that made stars explode behind his non-existent eyes. He was being used, a fleshlight for a god, and it was the most humiliating, hottest thing he had ever felt.
“Look at me,” Leo demanded, his voice raw. He held the toy up, forcing Cassian’s perspective to meet his own. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated lust, his lips parted, his blue eyes dark and wild. “This is what you wanted. This is what you are. My fucktoy.”
He carried him to the edge of the bed, never breaking his rhythm, and laid him down. Leo went at it, fucking the silicone pussy like a pornstar by the edge of the bed while bending down a bit.
“Gonna fill you up, Cass,” he whispered. “Gonna fucking breed this toy. Breed you.”
Leo was fucking the silicone pussy like a man possessed. His powerful hips slammed into the toy, driving his cock deeper with every punishing thrust. The headboard wasn't just hitting the wall; it was cracking against it, a frantic, violent beat that matched the rhythm of his rutting. The bed frame groaned in protest.
"Take it," he snarled, his voice a ragged, animalistic sound. "Take every fucking inch. This is what you’ve asked for." His sweat dripped from his brow, landing on the toy's slick surface, mixing with the lube and his own pre-come.
The room was filled with the sound of intense fucking. The wet squelching sound of a well-fucked pocket pussy.
“I’m gonna fucking cum. Fuck. Fuck. I’m bout to come, Cassian. You want it, huh? Here it comes. Fuck, here it COMES.”
He slammed in one last time, a deep, punishing thrust that buried his cock to the hilt, and his whole body went rigid. A choked, guttural roar tore from his throat as he came.
It wasn't a pulse; it was an explosion. A torrent of thick, scalding heat flooded Cassian's insides. The first spurt was a powerful, blasting jet that coated his deepest walls, followed by wave after wave of thick, potent seed. He could feel each rope of cum as it painted him, soaking into his very essence, filling every empty space until he was overflowing with Leo's semen. It was so much, so overwhelming, it triggered his own phantom release.
A silent, soul-shattering orgasm ripped through him, a convulsive clench around Leo's spurting cock. And as the second wave of essence was absorbed, something new clicked into place.
Taste.
A sudden, vivid burst of salt and musk and something uniquely Leo exploded on a phantom tongue. He could taste the inside of the toy pussy like it was his mouth. It was the taste of Leo’s sperm, rich and potent, coating the inside of the toy that was Cassian’s world.
He went rigid, the pleasure-pain of the orgasm still echoing through him, now underscored by this new, horrifying intimacy. He could taste him.
Leo was panting, spent, his cock softening inside the wet, clinging silicone. He pulled Cassian off with a sound like it was a wet filthy kiss. A thick, milky strand of white connecting them for a second before it snapped and dripped onto the edge of the bed.
He looked at the toy, a lazy, satiated smirk on his face. “One more to go.”
Cassian said nothing. He was too busy drowning in the flavor of his former best friend. A flavor of a man.
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