Silence was Cassian’s new weapon. After Leo had fucked that twink right in front of him, after whatever sick fetish Leo had. Cassian had simply… shut down.
The begging stopped. The pleading stopped. The screamed insults stopped.
When Leo picked him up the next morning, his hand warm and familiar around the silicone, Cassian said nothing. Leo shook him lightly.
“Hey. Toy. You break?”
Nothing.
Leo used him that afternoon. Slow, deep, lazy strokes on his bed. He talked the whole time.
“You feel that? My dick owning this tight little hole? Too bad you won’t get any load out of it,” Leo chuckled, his hips rolling, the thick head of his cock dragging against Cassian’s inner walls.
Cassian remained silent, a hollow vessel.
“Getting real tight. Fuck. Squeezing me. Maybe I should just call Kyler again. I’d rather fuck a real, warm hole that moans like a slut, not this fake piece of silicone.”
It was an insult but still, Cassian was silent.
Leo’s grin dropped. His rhythm stuttered. He pulled out, his cock glistening and angry-red, and held Cassian up to his face. “What’s your fucking problem?”
Cassian offered no answer. He was too busy drowning in the turmoil inside. Was he jealous? Of that blond, giggling piece of nothing? Was he mad that Leo had chosen to put his dick somewhere else? The logic was insane. He hated Leo. He wanted to be free. But the image of Leo pounding into Kyler, the sounds he’d made… it played on a loop, and it burned hotter than any insult.
The next time, Leo was rougher. He fucked the toy against the edge of his dresser, the impacts jarring, the wood rattling against the wall. He gripped Cassian so tight the silicone strained, threatening to crack.
“Talk to me, you fucking thing. I know you can.”
Cassian didn’t. His willpower bit the moan that was about to slip from him.
Leo came with a ragged shout, pulling out at the last second to spurt thick, hot ropes of spunk across the toy’s outer lips. The cum dripped down the silicone crease, wasted. The curse inside Cassian shuddered, unsatisfied, a need so profound it felt like sickness.
Days passed. Leo’s frustration grew. He started talking to himself, his voice raw in the quiet room.
“This is insane. I’m talking to a piece of silicone.” He’d stare at Cassian on the nightstand, his cock hard in his sweats. “You’re really gonna just sit there? After everything? After how good I fuck you?”
Cassian sat there.
Leo was so frustrated he kicked the console on the floor and left. Slamming the door loud.
The breaking point came on Thursday night. Leo had been drinking—something cheap and sharp that stunk of desperation. He stumbled into his room, pulled Cassian from the drawer, and fell onto the bed. He was hard already, his cock jutting up from his open jeans, the tip already leaking. He didn’t bother with lube. He just pressed the head against the entrance and pushed in dry.
It was a harsh, burning stretch. Cassian felt it like a shock, a brutal violation, but he made no sound. It was pure willpower. He wouldn’t give Leo the satisfaction of knowing he could feel anything.
Leo fucked him with a furious, drunken intensity. His hips snapped, his balls slapping against the toy’s base with a wet, meaty sound. He leaned down, his breath hot and sour with alcohol.
“You want it? Huh? You want my fucking nut inside you? The last one? The one that sets you free?” He punctuated each question with a brutal thrust, driving his cock in to the hilt. “Beg for it. Just fucking say ‘please, Leo’ and I’ll give it to you. I’ll fill you up. I’ll pump you so full of my cum you’ll taste it for a week.”
The offer was a physical blow. The final essence. Freedom. It was right there. All he had to do was break.
Cassian stayed silent. It was a fortress of pride and hate.
Leo roared, a sound of pure frustration, and pulled out. He didn’t come. He just knelt there on the bed, his cock throbbing and angry, his chest heaving. He looked at the toy in his hand with something like desperation.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered. It wasn’t a taunt. It sounded real.
When Leo was sure he wasn't getting any answer. He stood up and brought Cassian towards his bathroom. He cleaned him with uncharacteristic gentleness, placed him back on the nightstand, and turned off the light. Cassian listened to him toss and turn for hours.
*
The silence stretched for two more days. A cold war fought in the dark of Leo’s bedroom. Cassian was starting to lose hope. More flyers of him were posted. Police even came to Leo’s home. He could hear them talking downstairs with Leo and his parents, asking for any leads. Where Leo was the day Cassian went missing. The usual.
He knew his parents were worried sick. His mom was probably crying every night thinking about the worst thing that could’ve happened to him.
Even Cassian wasn’t sure anymore if he could go back. If he could get his body back.
*
Sunday evening. The air in Leo’s room was thick and heavy. He’d just gotten out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips, showing off the deep V-muscles that disappeared into the fabric. Water droplets still clung to his shoulders, tracing paths down his hard, defined abs.
He stood at the dresser, staring down. He looked tired. The handsome lines of his face were drawn.
He picked Cassian up. His touch wasn’t rough. It was almost hesitant.
“Okay,” Leo said, his voice low. It wasn’t addressed to the room. It was for Cassian. “Okay, you win.”
He carried Cassian to the bed and sat on the edge. He just held him, his thumb stroking the silicone absently.
“I’m talking to a pocket pussy and I’m losing an argument,” he muttered, a humorless laugh escaping him. He looked at Cassian, his sharp eyes searching the inanimate form. “This is crazy. But… fuck. I miss your voice.”
He took a deep breath.
“I’ll give it to you. The last one. I’ll put it where it needs to go. No games. No pulling out.” He leaned closer. His scent, clean soap and warm skin, washed over Cassian. “Just… talk to me again. Say anything. Curse me out. Call me a fag. I don’t care. Just… let me know you’re still in there.”
The plea was naked. Raw. It wasn’t dominance. It was a request.
Cassian’s world, which had shrunk to a ball of jealous, furious and hopeless silence, quivered. The need for completion screamed inside him. The curse was a constant, aching pulse. But more than that… he’d won. He’d broken Leo’s control. And the sound of Leo missing his voice… it did something dangerous.
Leo waited. The silence was fucking deafening.
Finally, he lay back on the bed, the towel falling open. His cock was already hard, lying thick and heavy against his stomach, the head a deep, angry purple and leaking a clear, shiny bead of pre-cum. He grabbed the lube, poured some on his hand, and started stroking himself. His eyes were locked on Cassian.
“Please,” Leo whispered, the word rough and utterly foreign on his tongue. His hand kept moving up and down his shaft, his thumb smearing the sticky cock juice all over the sensitive head. “Cassian.”
That did it. His name. Not ‘toy’. Not ‘thing’. Cassian.
A sound, tiny and cracked, emanated from the toy. It wasn’t a word. It was a vibration. A shudder.
Leo’s hand stilled. “Yeah?”
Another sound. A weak, staticky hum.
Leo’s lips parted. A real smile, small and uncertain, touched his mouth. He picked Cassian up. He didn’t position him roughly. He held him, aligning him with a care that felt monumental.
“Okay,” Leo breathed. “Okay. Here it is.”
He pressed the fat, slick head of his horny cock against the toy’s waiting lips and pushed.
It was different. There was no anger, no performative cruelty. It was just… penetration. A slow, inexorable filling. The thick, veiny shaft stretched the silicone wide, a familiar, burning fullness. Leo sank all the way in until his hips were flush against the toy, letting out a deep, shaky groan.
“God,” he whispered. “I missed this tight little cunt.”
He stayed still for a second, buried balls-deep. Cassian could feel everything. The thick veins pulsing on Leo’s shaft. The weight of his heavy sac resting against the base. The heat radiating off him, filling him up. Leo's thumb rubbed circles on the toy’s outer curve.
“You feel so much better than any real ass or pussy, you know that?” Leo’s voice was a husky murmur. “You’re gonna get it. I promise. I’ll give you my fucking nut.”
Then he started to move. Not the hard, angry fucking from before. This was slow, deep, and mean. Every time he pulled out, it was an empty ache. Every time he slammed back home, it was a jolt that made Cassian’s entire world go white. The room was filled with the wet, sloppy squelch of his dick plunging in and out, the sound getting louder and nastier as Leo’s pace picked up.
Leo’s free hand roamed over his own body, pinching his hard nipple, then sliding down to tug on his balls. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face a mask of pure, filthy pleasure.
“Goddamn, you take it so good,” he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster. “Always have. I just wish I could fuck your real hole.”
The words melted the last of Cassian’s resistance. The silence shattered. A low, buzzing moan vibrated from the toy, a wordless expression of the pleasure tearing through him.
Leo’s eyes flew open. A triumphant, wild light shone in them. “There you are.”
He shifted, pulling Cassian closer, changing the angle. The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind Cassian’s consciousness. A sharp, electric jolt of pure sensation. He cried out, a static-laced sound that was unmistakably pleasure.
“Yeah, you like that,” Leo panted, really fucking him now, the bed creaking. “You love it. This cock. My cock. You’ve always wanted it.”
Cassian was so confused. Did he want Leo like that? The truth of it was a thunderclap. The bullying, the hatred—it was all a terrified scream against his internalized homophobia. He had always felt something for his best friend but he shoved it off. They were bros. But seeing how Leo fucked others. It made something inside Cassian break that’s why he shut himself off. Cassian moaned again, the sound continuous now, a feedback loop of sensation and sound.
Leo was losing it. His thrusts became brutal, deep, punishing. His grip on the toy was so tight the silicone groaned. Sweat dripped from his chest onto the sheets. The smell of it—sex and sweat and Leo—was overwhelming.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk. I'm gonna come,” he warned, his voice breaking. “Gonna give you what you need. All of it. Every fucking drop. Fuck, here it comes.....”
He slammed in one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and his whole body went rigid. A raw, guttural roar was torn from his throat.
Inside, Cassian felt the first violent throb. Then another. A thick, hot, endless flood of Leo’s cum. It wasn’t just a sensation; it was a taste, salty and musky and pure Leo. It was a feeling, a searing heat that marked him from the inside out. Wave after wave of it pumped into him, filling every last inch of the silicone, soaking into the curse and burning it away with pure, white-hot ecstasy.
The world dissolved into pure sensation. Leo—exploded richer than ever before. The feeling of being utterly, completely filled. The sound of Leo’s ragged, desperate breaths above him.
Leo collapsed onto his side, pulling Cassian with him, still connected. He was panting, spent, his softening cock still sheathed inside. He slowly pulled Cassian from his wet cum soaked cock and he brought the toy to his face, his lips brushing against the silicone.
"Don't hate me anymore, Cassian."
They both blacked out.
*
When morning came, Cassian felt different. The first thing Cassian felt was warmth. A heavy, solid weight pinning him down. And something else… something hard and insistent nudging against his own morning wood. Against his cock.
His cock?
He gasped, a real, ragged inhale that burned in human lungs for the first time in forever.
His eyes flew open.
He was in a bed. Leo’s bed. The sheets were a tangled mess around his legs, smelling of sweat and sex. And he was naked, his body solid and whole, plastered against Leo’s side. His face was buried in the crook of Leo’s neck, one arm thrown heavily across Leo’s sweat-slicked chest.
Leo jolted beneath him, his body going rigid.
He pulled back, his sharp eyes wide with shock. He stared.
Cassian stared back. The world was too bright, too loud, too real. The rough texture of the cotton sheets, the musky smell of Leo’s skin mixed with the sharp, tangy scent of dried cum, the solid heat of the man beside him. He was back.
“Holy shit,” Leo breathed, his voice full of awe. His gaze raked over Cassian—the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the hard lines of his stomach, all of it real and naked and pressed right up against him.
Cassian’s mind short-circuited. The last coherent memory was of being a toy, of being stretched and filled, of that final, cataclysmic release. And now… this. His body hummed with a strange, sated energy. And between his thighs, a warm, sticky wetness was already cooling, leaking down his skin.
Oh, god.
He looked down. A thick, pearly-white trail of Leo’s cum was trickling down the inside of his thigh, a filthy reminder of where he’d just been filled to the brim.
“Fuck,” Cassian spat, the word rusty in his throat. He shoved himself away from Leo, scrambling back so fast he nearly fell off the bed. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Leo just lounged back against the headboard, the shock melting away into that familiar, infuriating smirk. He made zero move to cover himself. The soft glistening cock laying against his thigh had started to stiffen. A fresh bead of pre-cum oozed at the tip. He wrapped a hand around it, giving it a slow, lazy pump as his eyes drank in the sight of Cassian’s panic.
“Well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Cassian growled, his voice rough. He scanned the floor. Leo’s clothes. He stumbled out of the bed, his legs feeling like jelly, like they’d forgotten how to hold a human body. The sticky, slick sensation on his thigh was maddening, a constant reminder. He grabbed a pair of Leo’s jeans, yanking them on with clumsy, furious movements. The rough denim felt alien against his sensitive skin.
“In a hurry?” Leo’s voice was a lazy drawl. His fist sliding up and down the slick shaft. The wet, rhythmic sound of him jerking off filled the room. “You just got your body back. Shouldn’t you… test it out?”
Cassian refused to look at him, but he couldn’t block out the sound. He snatched Leo’s shirt, a gray athletic tee, and pulled it over his head. It smelled like old laundry and something uniquely Leo. “Go to hell.”
“Been there. It’s cozy. You were there with me, remember?” Leo’s smirk widened as he gave his cock a firm twist, his hips shifting slightly. “In my hand. On my dick. My clothes look fucking good on you, by the way. Almost as good as my cum looks leaking out of you.”
A fresh wave of heat, equal parts rage and humiliation, washed over Cassian. He shoved his feet into one of Leo’s sneakers, not bothering with socks. “Shut up. You’re a sick fuck.”
“And you’re a walking, talking creampie,” Leo shot back, his eyes dropping pointedly to the jeans Cassian was wearing, his hand never stopping its lazy, obscene rhythm. “My creampie. You can feel it, can’t you? My cum leaking out of you. Want me to put another one in there?
Cassian froze, one hand on the doorknob. The words were a physical slap. He could feel it. A slow, warm trickle of Leo’s seed. His stomach clenched with a sick, twisted mix of disgust and want, made worse by the sound of Leo’s slick strokes behind him.
“Hop back in bed,” Leo murmured, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble that had haunted Cassian’s silicone prison. “Let’s fuck properly. Now that you’ve got a real ass. I bet it’s just as tight. I'll make you feel good. I promise.”
Cassian turned his head just enough to glare over his shoulder. He gave Leo the middle finger, hard and deliberate. Then he wrenched the door open and stormed out.
Leo’s laugh, deep and triumphant, followed him down the hall, mingling with the wet, rhythmic sounds of him jerking his hard cock. “Not even a thank you?” he called after him.
He moved downstairs, careful not to let anyone see him. Especially Leo’s parents. That would be a fucking mess he couldn’t even begin to explain.
The front door slammed shut behind him. And he could finally breathe. Free at last.
He ran. Ran so fast his trembling legs burned. The memory was a constant loop in his head. The smell of Leo’s sweat. The taste of his cum. The fucking feel of Leo’s thick cock splitting him open, owning him.
“FUCKKKKKKK!” Cassian screamed like a madman, the sound swallowed by the cold morning air.
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