"What's the password, handsome?" The bouncer's gruff voice cut through the thick cloud of smoke that hung around the doorway to The Den.
"It's 'Gorilla Grip,' tonight," he replied: the name of the underground wrestling champion known for his unyielding bear hug. He had overheard it at the gym where he worked, his curiosity piqued by the whispers of late-night matches and the rumors of what went on behind the scenes. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he stepped into the dimly lit club. The air had the smell of sweat and anticipation.
Inside, the walls were lined with posters of bulging muscles and men in tight spandex, flexing their might. The floor was sticky under his boots, a testament to the countless drinks spilled in passionate cheers and heated rivalries. The music was a thumping bass that reverberated through his chest, setting his pulse to a rhythm that matched the neon lights flickering above the bar. The patrons were a mix of leather-clad bikers, burly construction workers, and men in business suits who had come to shed the confines of their daily lives.
He made his way through the throng of bodies, each more muscular than the last, until he reached a hallway marked 'VIP'. The door at the end was guarded by another hulking man, this one with a shaved head and a scowl that could cut glass. The bouncer nodded at the password and stepped aside, allowing him entry into a dimly lit room that was a stark contrast to the raucous club outside. The air was thick with tension and a hint of something else: the scent of manly desire that lingered just below the surface.
In the center of the room stood a ring, the ropes tight and gleaming with sweat. Around it, a crowd of men watched with rapt attention as two figures circled each other, their heavy breaths echoing off the walls. The wrestlers were both naked, their bodies a canvas of muscles that rippled with every movement. The bigger of the two, a man named Tank, was known for his brute strength and insatiable appetite for victory, both in and out of the ring. His opponent, a newcomer named Spike, was smaller but faster, his eyes glinting with a hunger that suggested he had something to prove.
As the match began, the crowd grew quiet, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them. The men grappled, their bodies sliding against each other, the slap of skin on skin a testament to their power. The Den was notorious for its no-holds-barred fights, where submission was the only way out. Tank, with his massive biceps and bulging chest, tried to overpower Spike with his size, but the smaller wrestler was agile, slipping out of his grasp and landing a series of quick jabs to his ribs.
Spike's strategy was clear: wear Tank down before he could exert his full strength. Yet, every time Tank's meaty hands wrapped around Spike's waist, lifting him into the air, the crowd roared, knowing that the tide could turn at any moment. The newcomer's lithe body arched and twisted, his muscles bulging as he fought to break free, his cock bobbing with the effort. Each escape was a victory, and the tension grew palpable as the match went on, the air thickening with the scent of adrenaline and desire.
The wrestlers' sweat mingled, glistening on their chests and stomachs, making the mat below them slick. The smaller man's agility was a thing of beauty, his muscles working in a symphony of power and precision. Yet, Tank's unyielding endurance was equally mesmerizing, his thick erection a testament to his own excitement. The two men were like primal beasts locked in a dance of dominance, each move calculated and executed with a raw, animalistic passion that had the crowd on the edge of their seats.
Spike, the newcomer, managed to dodge another of Tank's attempts to pin him, slipping between the larger man's legs and wrapping his arms around Tank's waist. The crowd gasped as Tank's erection brushed against his face, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. The music stopped, and all that could be heard were the grunts of effort and the heavy breathing of the men in the ring. Spike took the opportunity to lean in, his tongue darting out to taste the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip of Tank's cock. The crowd erupted in a mix of shock and arousal, some jeering while others cheered.
Tank's eyes went wide with surprise, but instead of pushing Spike away, he leaned into it, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle. Spike took this as an invitation and opened his mouth, taking the head of Tank's thick erection between his lips. The crowd's roar grew louder, the energy in the room shifting from a tense battle to a heated display of carnality. The smaller wrestler's tongue swirled around the head, teasing and taunting, as his hands explored Tank's muscular thighs and firm buttocks.
The big man's knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward, pulling Spike along with him. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, making room for the impromptu performance. Tank leaned against the ropes, his hands on Spike's head, guiding him deeper onto his cock. Spike's cheeks hollowed with every bob, his throat muscles working to accommodate the sheer size. It was clear that this was not his first time pleasuring a man in such a manner. His movements were confident, almost possessive, as if claiming his victory in a different sort of battle.
Tank's moans grew louder, his body tightening with every stroke of Spike's tongue. The crowd's energy shifted from shock to awe as the scene unfolded before them. Some men leaned in, their own desire reflected in their eyes, while others shifted uncomfortably, not used to such blatant sexuality in their violent sanctuary. Yet, no one dared to interrupt the show, not when they could feel the tension building like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Spike's hands roamed over Tank's body, feeling the contours of his muscles and the heat that radiated from his skin. His own erection pressed against the mat, painfully trapped between his stomach and Tank's thick thigh. He could feel the eyes of the men around him, their desire mixing with the sweat that coated their bodies. The air grew thick with lust, making it even harder to breathe as he took more of Tank's length into his mouth, his throat stretching to accommodate the massive girth.
Tank's hips began to buck, pushing Spike further down, and the smaller wrestler knew he was close to victory. He sucked harder, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just under the head of Tank's cock. The big man's grunts turned to moans, his body tensing as he approached climax. Spike felt a thrill of power, knowing he had brought this mighty beast to his knees — or at least to the edge of the ring — with nothing but his mouth and a bit of daring.
The room was a cacophony of cheers and jeers, the crowd torn between admiration for Spike's audacity and disbelief at the sight before them. The neon lights reflected off the sweat-slicked bodies, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene. The tension was palpable, a tangible force that made the air crackle with electricity. The men around the ring leaned in closer, their breaths bated, as they watched the unfolding intimacy.
Tank's eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on the ropes tightening as Spike's skilled mouth worked magic. The newcomer's tongue was relentless, exploring every inch of his cock with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His hands massaged Tank's balls, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from the big man that sent shockwaves through the room. Spike could feel the pressure building, the heat of Tank's orgasm imminent.
Around the ring, the atmosphere had transformed. The rapt attention of the crowd had ignited a frenzied lust, and as if on cue, the spectators began to strip, their clothes flying off in a blur of fabric and leather. The air grew thick with the scent of desire, as men paired off and found their own battles to wage, their hands exploring the contours of muscles and skin that moments ago were only appreciated from a safe distance.
Tank's legs trembled, and his breathing grew erratic. His eyes locked onto Spike's, the intensity of his gaze mirroring the passion in his voice as he whispered, "You're going to make me cum, aren't you?" Spike nodded, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. He knew he had the upper hand now. The crowd watched, their own hands moving in rhythm with the scene before them, stroking their own erections in time with Spike's bobbing head.
The smaller wrestler's throat muscles constricted around Tank's shaft, creating a tight, wet warmth that sent waves of pleasure through the big man's body. His hips began to thrust in time with Spike's movements, the sound of wet, sloppy sucking echoing through the room. The tension grew so intense it was almost unbearable, the anticipation of Tank's release hanging in the air like a thundercloud about to unleash its fury.
But just as Spike felt the first twitches of Tank's impending climax, the big man abruptly pulled away, his cock glistening with spit and precum. Spike looked up, surprised and a little hurt, his eyes questioning the sudden change. Tank's face was a mask of determination, his eyes dark and intense. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the club, he yanked Spike to his feet, spinning him around and pushing him face-first into the turnbuckle.
The crowd's excitement grew to a fever pitch as Tank lined up his cock with Spike's tight, round ass. Spike's eyes widened with a mix of fear and arousal, his own erection standing at attention despite the painful stretch he knew was about to come. He had never been with a man so large before, and the thought of taking all of Tank was both terrifying and exhilarating.
With a snarl, Tank pushed forward, his cockhead breaching Spike's entrance. Spike's scream filled the room, a raw, primal sound that sent a shiver down the spines of every man present. The newcomer's body tensed, his muscles straining as he was split open by the sheer size of Tank's shaft. The crowd's cheers grew louder, their own desires reflected in the harsh, gritted teeth of the wrestlers.
Tank didn't pause, driving in deeper and deeper, his cock stretching Spike's hole to its limits. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet slap of each thrust resonated through the room. Spike's moans grew higher in pitch, the pain morphing into something else, something that made his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head. The sensation of being filled so completely, so dominantly, was overwhelming.
As Tank's thrusts grew more intense, Spike felt his own orgasm approaching. His erection, still trapped between his stomach and Tank's thigh, was leaking pre-cum, leaving a wet trail on the mat. Tank noticed and, with a grin that was more snarl than smile, reached down and wrapped one of his meaty fists around Spike's cock. He began to pump it in time with his thrusts, his movements sure and steady, his grip firm.
The crowd watched, their eyes glued to the two wrestlers, their own hands moving in silent imitation of the scene before them. The tension grew tauter with every grunt and groan, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Then, without warning, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Spike's body went rigid, his back arching as he came, his cock spurting hot, white cum that shot against the ropes, spattering the first few rows of the audience. The men closest to the ring flinched, but their eyes remained glued to the spectacle, their own arousal reaching new heights.
Tank felt the tightening around his cock, the delicious pressure building in his balls, and he knew Spike was on the edge. He picked up his pace, driving into the smaller man with the force of a pile-driver. His eyes rolled back, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own orgasm. The crowd's chant grew louder, their energy feeding into the scene like a living, breathing entity. "Cum for us, Tank! Make him your bitch!"
With a roar that could be heard over the music, Tank reached his peak, his hips bucking as he emptied himself into Spike. The newcomer's body spasmed around his cock, milking every last drop from him. Spike's own orgasm had left him trembling, his legs threatening to give out from the intensity of the sensation. The two men remained locked together for a moment, panting and sweating, their bodies entwined in a dance of power and passion.
The crowd erupted in applause, their own releases echoing through the room as they watched the two wrestlers in the throes of pleasure. The energy in the room was electric, a heady mix of victory and desire that left everyone feeling alive and vital. Spike's body was a canvas of pain and pleasure, the bruises and sweat a testament to the battle he had just endured. Yet, he wore it with a pride that was unmistakable.
As Tank pulled out, his cock glistening with sweat and cum, Spike turned to face him, his eyes alight with something that could only be described as triumph. The smaller man's breath was ragged, his chest heaving with exertion, but there was a fire in his gaze that told Tank he had not been fully broken. Without a word, Tank leaned in and claimed Spike's mouth in a kiss that was as fierce and demanding as their wrestling match had been. Their tongues clashed together, each man tasting the other's desire, their kiss a silent declaration of dominance.
The crowd around them had grown quiet, their own passions momentarily forgotten as they watched the intimate display. The bouncers at the door exchanged knowing smirks, having seen this play out many times before. It was a ritual, a dance of power that played out in the aftermath of every fight in the VIP section of The Den. The wrestlers were not just there for the sport; they were there for the thrill, the passion, and the unspoken challenge that came with every bout.
Tank's whisper in Spike's ear was like a hot brand, searing through the haze of pleasure and pain. The suggestion sent a thrill down Spike's spine, a promise that this was far from over. He nodded, his voice a hoarse murmur that matched the rhythm of their heavy breathing. "Yeah, stud. Lead on, and I'll follow." The words hung in the air, a challenge accepted, a line drawn in the sand of this newfound territory of lust and dominance.
The crowd watched as Tank and Spike stumbled out of the ring, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum, their eyes never leaving each other's. The energy between them was palpable, a live wire that could not be contained. They made their way through the sea of muscled bodies, the air thick with the scent of man and desire, to a back room where the VIPs often retreated for private, uninhibited play. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the club, leaving only the harsh echoes of their passion.
The room was small and sparse, with a single bed in the center and a few pieces of gear scattered about. The walls were a dull gray, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the club outside. It was here that the men who truly knew the meaning of submission and dominance came to play. Tank's massive form pinned Spike to the bed, his heavy weight pressing the smaller man into the mattress, his cock still half-hard from their public display.
Spike's heart hammered in his chest, a mix of excitement and fear as Tank's hands roamed over his body. His own cock was still sensitive from his recent orgasm, and the slightest touch sent jolts of pleasure through him. The big man's touch was rough, his calloused hands leaving trails of fire across Spike's skin as he claimed ownership of every inch of his new conquest.
Tank's mouth found Spike's neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he kissed and nipped his way down to the smaller man's chest. Spike arched his back, his nipples tightening as Tank's tongue flicked across them, teasing and tormenting until he could take no more. His hands grabbed at Tank's shoulders, his nails digging in, urging him on. The room was a blur of shadows and desire, the only light coming from the crack under the door, painting the scene in a stark, erotic contrast.
Tank's cock grew harder again, his hips grinding into Spike's, their erections trapped between them like a declaration of war. He grabbed a fistful of Spike's hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. The smaller wrestler's pulse thundered under his touch, a silent invitation to leave his mark. With a growl, Tank leaned in and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh, tasting the salt and sweat that coated Spike's skin. Spike's eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the pain melded with pleasure.
The room was a symphony of grunts and moans, the only soundtrack to their intense encounter. Tank's hand slid down to Spike's erection, his grip firm and unyielding as he began to stroke him in time with his own hips. Spike's body responded eagerly, his cock swelling in his hand as he was brought to the brink of orgasm once more. The power dynamics of the wrestling match had shifted, the tables turned in a dance of submission and domination that was as natural as breathing.
Tank's teeth grazed along Spike's collarbone, leaving a trail of red in their wake. Spike's own hands found Tank's ass, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. The big man's cock was a beast between his legs, thick and demanding, and Spike craved the feeling of being completely filled. He spread his legs wider, arching his back to give Tank better access, a silent plea for more.
Tank's hand slid down to Spike's ass, his thick fingers probing, testing the tenderness of his hole. Spike gasped, his body quivering with anticipation. He had never been with a man so big, so powerful, and the idea of taking him again so soon was both terrifying and thrilling. He could feel his own ass clench with need, his body begging for the invasion that was to come.
Tank's cock slid back into Spike with an ease that spoke of experience. The smaller man's eyes watered with the pain, but he took it, welcoming the stretch as Tank pushed deeper. The bedframe creaked with every thrust, the headboard banging against the wall in a rhythmic pattern that matched their heartbeats. The sound was a symphony of passion, a cacophony of desire that filled the room.
Spike's own cock was a slick mess, leaking pre-cum onto Tank's stomach. The big man leaned down and took it in his mouth, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he sucked and licked. Spike's moans grew louder, his body writhing beneath the heavy weight of Tank's body. The taste of himself mixed with Tank's saliva was an intoxicating cocktail that only added to his arousal.
The air was thick with the sounds of their passion, the smell of sex and sweat permeating every inch of the room. Spike's fingers clawed at the bedsheets, his body straining to meet every powerful thrust. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through him, a delicious mix of agony and ecstasy that made his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head. Tank's teeth sank into his shoulder, a possessive bite that left an indelible mark, a brand that told the world who had claimed him.
Tank's hips moved like a piston, driving deep into Spike's willing body, their muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm that was as old as time. The smaller wrestler's legs wrapped around Tank's waist, his heels digging into his lower back, urging him to go harder, faster, deeper. The room was a blur of shadows and light, their bodies moving together in a dance that was both violent and beautiful.
Spike's moans grew louder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt his orgasm building once more. Tank's mouth found his, swallowing his cries with a kiss that was as demanding as the fucking he was receiving. The big man's hand tightened around Spike's cock, stroking in time with his own thrusts, pushing him closer to the edge. Spike could feel the pressure building in his balls, a delicious ache that grew with every pump of Tank's hand.
Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, a symphony of sweat and desire that seemed to fill the small space. Tank's hips slammed into Spike with a force that had the smaller man seeing stars, his vision blurring as the pleasure grew too intense. His legs tightened around Tank's waist, his heels digging into the muscular flesh as he tried to hold on, to keep himself anchored in the face of the impending storm.
Spike's cock was a pulsing rod of need in Tank's firm grip, and with every stroke, he could feel himself inching closer to the edge. His own hand found Tank's, guiding it faster, harder, his breath hitching with every touch. The big man's eyes never left his, the intensity in those dark orbs a promise of the release to come. The pressure built, a coil of ecstasy tightening in his stomach, threatening to unravel and consume him whole.
Tank's thrusts grew more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he approached his climax. Spike could feel the thick cock inside him swelling, the heat of Tank's seed building to a crescendo. The anticipation was agonizing, the need for release a living, writhing thing between them. His body tensed, muscles straining as he tried to hold back the inevitable, to make this moment last just a little longer.
But Tank had other plans. With a final, brutal thrust, he pushed Spike's cock over the edge, sending spurts of hot cum arcing through the air to land on the floor, the bed, and both their chests. The force of his orgasm ripped a scream from Spike's throat, a sound that was more animal than human. The room seemed to spin around them as the smaller man's body was wracked with wave after wave of pleasure, each one more intense than the last.
Tank's own orgasm followed closely, his cock pulsing deep within Spike as he emptied himself. The sensation was almost too much, the feeling of being filled to the brim with the big man's cum a revelation. Spike's ass clenched around Tank's shaft, milking every drop as the big man's body shuddered with the force of his release. The two men lay there for a moment, their breathing the only sound in the room, their bodies a tangled mess of muscle and passion.
As the aftershocks of their climaxes subsided, Tank leaned down to whisper in Spike's ear, "You're mine now. Everyone in The Den will know it." His voice was thick with lust and possession, a promise that sent a shiver down Spike's spine. He knew what that meant, knew that he would be claimed in every way possible, both in the ring and out of it. The thought was terrifying, but also thrilling.
Spike could feel the warmth of Tank's cum leaking from his ass, the sticky mess a reminder of the power dynamics that had just shifted between them. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper, "Yes, I'm yours." The words were a declaration, a surrender that was as much a part of the battle as the wrestling match had been. Tank's grip on his cock loosened, but he didn't pull out, letting Spike feel every inch of his still semi-hard length.
Their bodies were slick with sweat and cum, their hearts pounding in unison as they lay there, basking in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. The room was silent except for their heavy breaths and the distant throb of the club's bass line, a stark contrast to the symphony of sounds they had just created. They were two warriors, victors in a battle of lust and dominance, and the prize was each other.
Tank rolled off Spike, his cock slipping out with a wet sound that made them both shiver. He lay beside him, one arm thrown over Spike's chest, his fingers playing idly with a nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through the smaller man's body. Spike looked up at him, his eyes glazed with desire, his chest heaving with every breath. He knew that this was only the beginning, that Tank had plans for him that went far beyond the walls of this backroom.
The big man leaned in, his lips capturing Spike's in a kiss that was gentle in its dominance. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against Spike's skin. "And I'm going to enjoy every inch of you." Spike's heart raced at the words, his cock already starting to harden again at the thought of what was to come. He had never felt so alive, so wanted, so ... used. And he loved it.
Tank stood, his body a sculpture of power and desire, the muscles in his back rippling as he turned to grab a towel from a nearby chair. He tossed it to Spike, who took it gratefully, wiping away the mess of cum and sweat that coated his body. The smaller wrestler's legs felt like jelly, his body still reeling from the intense pleasure that had just been inflicted upon him.
As Spike cleaned himself, he watched Tank move with a grace that belied his size. The big man's cock, though semi-soft, was still impressive, and Spike felt a thrill of fear and excitement at the thought of it inside him again. He knew he would be used, claimed in every way imaginable, but there was a part of him that craved it, that reveled in the idea of belonging to such a powerful being.
"You're coming home with me," Tank said, not a suggestion or question, but a statement of fact. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Spike nodded, his eyes never leaving Tank's as he climbed off the bed, his legs shaky. The thought of being claimed by this beast of a man was intoxicating, a thrill that he hadn't experienced in his brief time at The Den.
They made their way back through the club, their bodies still glistening from their encounter. The crowd parted for them, their eyes filled with envy and respect as they passed. Tank's hand was a warm, heavy presence at the small of Spike's back, guiding him through the throngs of men, a clear signal to all that he was off-limits. Spike felt a thrill at the possessive touch, his heart racing with excitement.
As they exited into the cool night air, Spike took a deep breath, his senses assaulted by the smell of the city and the feel of the chilly breeze on his bare skin. The streets of downtown were alive with the sounds of music and laughter, but all he could focus on was the man beside him. Tank's hand slid down to grip his ass, a silent reminder of their newfound dynamic. Spike leaned into the touch, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down his spine.
They arrived at Tank's apartment, a sleek, modern space that was as intimidating as the man himself. The walls were adorned with trophies and photos from his wrestling career, serving as a stark reminder of the power that Tank wielded. The room was filled with the scent of leather and musk, a heady combination that had Spike's cock twitching to life again.
Without a word, Tank led Spike into the bedroom, the soft light casting shadows over the king-sized bed that dominated the room. The sheets were a crisp white, a stark contrast to the men's sweat-slicked bodies. The bed was already rumpled from Tank's earlier conquests, the scent of sex still lingering in the air. Spike felt a thrill of excitement mingle with fear as he realized he was about to become a part of that history.
Tank's hand was firm, guiding Spike to the bed and pushing him down onto his stomach. The smaller wrestler's body quivered with anticipation, his ass still sore and stretched from their earlier encounter. He knew that Tank had no intention of giving him a reprieve; this was only the beginning. The big man's hands were on him again, squeezing and kneading his flesh, reasserting his claim.
Tank grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand, the sound of the cap popping open in the quiet room sending a shiver down Spike's spine. He felt the cool liquid being spread over his still-sensitive hole, the anticipation making his skin crawl. Then, Tank's thick fingers were inside him, stretching and preparing him for what was to come. Spike bit his lip, trying not to moan too loudly, not wanting to give Tank the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was enjoying this.
The bed dipped as Tank climbed on, his weight pressing Spike into the mattress. The head of his cock nudged at Spike's entrance, a blunt pressure that had the smaller man gasping for air. Tank didn't hesitate, pushing in slow and deep, filling Spike up inch by inch. The pain was intense, but it was the kind of pain that bled into pleasure, making his toes curl and his cock throb. He could feel every vein, every pulse of the big man's dick as it claimed him once again.
The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Tank's grunts of pleasure echoing off the walls. Spike's face was buried in the pillow, muffling his own cries as the big man fucked him with a ferocity that seemed to come from a place beyond mere desire. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a promise that Spike was his and his alone. And with every stroke, Spike found himself believing it, his body responding in ways he never thought possible.
Tank's hand wrapped around his neck, pulling his head back to expose his throat once more. His teeth scraped along the tender skin, a gentle reminder of the power dynamic that had been established. Spike's eyes rolled back in his head, his body a canvas of pleasure and pain, as Tank's cock hit that perfect spot deep inside him, sending shockwaves of sensation through his body. His own erection was trapped between his stomach and the mattress, a constant reminder of his own need and the control that Tank held over him.
Spike's hips began to rock back into Tank's rhythm, his body craving the friction against his prostate. He felt his orgasm building again, a crescendo of sensation that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Tank's hand found his cock, his grip firm and unyielding, stroking him in time with his deep, powerful thrusts. The smaller wrestler could feel his body tightening, his muscles clenching as he approached the brink once more.
Tank leaned down, his mouth hot against Spike's ear. "You're going to come for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to show me how much you want this." Spike whimpered, his body responding to the command. He could feel the tension coiling tighter, the need for release becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to engulf him.
Tank's strokes grew more insistent, his cock plunging deeper with each thrust. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a primal symphony of passion that seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. Spike's orgasm was close, so close, and he could feel Tank's own approaching, the big man's breaths coming in harsh pants against his neck.
Spike's hips bucked wildly, his cock sliding through Tank's slick grip as he chased his climax. The big man's hand tightened around his neck, cutting off just enough air to make his head swim. It was a heady mix of fear and pleasure, a cocktail that had him teetering on the edge of oblivion. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the need for release growing more urgent with each passing second.
Tank's teeth grazed the sensitive skin of Spike's ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Come for me, my love," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Spike's spine. "Let me feel you come all over my cock." The words were like a spark to dry kindling, igniting the fire that had been building inside him. Spike's body tensed, his muscles tightening as he reached the peak.
With a strangled cry, Spike's orgasm hit him like a freight train, his cock spurting cum onto the bed beneath him. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that he almost forgot to breathe. His ass clamped down around Tank's cock, the spasms milking him for every drop of pleasure he had to give. The big man's grunts grew louder, his hips moving faster as he approached his own climax.
Tank's hand tightened around Spike's throat, his grip unyielding as he fucked him through his orgasm. The smaller man's eyes watered, his vision swimming as the lack of oxygen added a new level of intensity to the sensations coursing through his body. He could feel Tank's cock swelling, the heat of his seed building as he neared his peak.
The pressure was too much to bear, and with a final, animalistic roar, Tank emptied himself inside Spike, his sperm spurting deep into his ass. The feeling of being filled so completely was almost too much for Spike, his body wracked with spasms as he tried to process the overwhelming sensations. Tank's teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder, holding him down as he filled him to the brim, marking him once again with the evidence of his claim.
The big man's hips stuttered to a stop, his body trembling with the force of his climax. For a moment, they lay there, connected in the most primal of ways, their breathing the only sound in the room. Spike's body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain. Tank's cock remained inside him, still hard and pulsing, a reminder of the power he had just surrendered to.
Spike felt the weight of Tank's body pressing him into the mattress, the heavy breaths against his neck a testament to the exertion of their encounter. The room was thick with the scent of sex, their mingled fluids creating a sticky mess between their bodies. He could feel Tank's heart beating in time with his own, a rhythm that seemed to resonate through the very air.
Finally, the big man pulled out, his cock leaving Spike's ass with a wet pop that made them both wince. Spike's body was a symphony of sensations, each nerve ending singing a different tune of pleasure and pain. He collapsed onto the bed, his limbs feeling like they had been turned to jelly. Tank leaned over him, a wicked grin playing on his lips.
"You're mine," Tank said again, his voice a low rumble. "And I'll make sure everyone knows it." He grabbed another towel and began to clean them both off, his movements efficient and possessive. Spike could feel the sticky warmth of cum and sweat being wiped away, leaving his skin clean but his mind reeling.
The smaller wrestler couldn't help but look at the mess on the bed, the evidence of their passion stark in the soft light. Tank followed his gaze and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Spike's spine. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll have plenty of time to clean up later." He tossed the towel aside and climbed onto the bed, pulling Spike into his arms. The smaller man's body was limp with exhaustion, but the warmth and safety he found there was addictive.
They lay together in a tangle of limbs, their bodies still slick with sweat and cum. The big man's embrace was like a steel cage, holding Spike tight and keeping the world at bay. His breathing grew steady and deep as sleep began to claim him, the comfort of Tank's body lulling him into a state of relaxation he had never felt before. The bed was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, hard floor of the backroom where they had started the night.
Spike's eyes grew heavy, the rhythm of Tank's heartbeat acting like a lullaby. The big man's strong arms cradled him, one hand resting possessively on his ass, his cock still semi-hard against Spike's thigh. It was a reminder that their night was far from over, that there would be more passion to come. The smaller wrestler felt a thrill at the thought, his body already beginning to stir with anticipation.
Their breathing grew synchronized, their chests rising and falling in a harmony that was as intimate as the act they had just shared. The tension of the day's events, the nerves of their first encounter in the ring, and the intensity of their passionate coupling slowly melted away, leaving them both in a state of contented exhaustion. The world outside the apartment faded away, the only reality the warmth of their entwined bodies.
The bed was a cocoon of pleasure, the sheets sticky with their combined essences. Spike felt Tank's heart pound against his back, the steady beat a reassurance of the life and desire that pulsed within the larger man. He could feel the heat of Tank's cock against his thigh, still thick and demanding even in their moment of reprieve. It was a promise that the night was far from over, that the beast within the man had not yet been fully sated.
Spike's mind drifted, his thoughts a jumble of sensations and emotions. He had never felt so claimed, so owned. The idea of being Tank's plaything, his toy to use and abuse, sent a thrill through him that was as terrifying as it was exciting. Yet, as the big man held him close, his arms a warm, protective barricade, Spike felt a sense of belonging, a feeling he had never truly experienced in the harsh, cutthroat world of wrestling.
Their breathing grew deeper, their hearts slowing to a gentle rhythm. Spike felt himself being drawn into the welcoming embrace of sleep, lulled by the warmth and comfort of Tank's body. He let his eyes flutter closed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he succumbed to the gentle tug of Slumberland. In his dreams, he was a warrior claimed by a mighty king, and the battles they would fight together would be those of passion and desire.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
