Trials of John Carter

At the dimly lit cabin, David asserts his dominance over John with firm, commanding hands and sharp, controlling taunts. In the cold night, the tension between them hangs heavy beneath the quiet surface of the lake.

  • Score 7.8 (9 votes)
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  • 1143 Words
  • 5 Min Read

The Weekend Begins

It was Friday when David cornered John in the locker room, voice low and threatening. “Go to your room and pack your things. I’ll be at your place in 30. We’re going to my uncle’s lake house this weekend. There’s no one there. Don’t be late.” John knew there was no point in resisting, David knew his secret, and that gave him all the control.

Shaken, John hurried to his room, stuffed some clothes into a bag, and made his way outside. David stood by his car, arms crossed and smirking. “Took you long enough, princess,” he said.

They got in and drove off. The drive was mostly silent, and before long, John drifted to sleep beside David.

When John woke, the car was parked in front of a rustic lake house, the moon casting a silvery glow over the water. David was already out of the car, his silhouette framed by the porch light. “Get your ass out here,” he called, his tone impatient.

John stumbled out, his bag slipping from his shoulder as he tried to get his bearings. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and water. He looked up at the lake house, its windows dark and foreboding, and felt a chill run down his spine.

What’s going to happen now? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as David grabbed his bag and headed inside, leaving John standing alone in the moonlight. The lake stretched out before him, its surface calm and still, but John couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath it, something dark and unpredictable was waiting.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and followed David inside. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence. John’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, and he saw David standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Shower first,” David said, his tone casual, as if ordering John around was the most natural thing in the world. “And while you’re at it, grab the beer from the car and stick it in the freezer. Wouldn’t want it going warm, would we?”

John nodded, his throat tight. He moved mechanically, his feet carrying him to the car parked outside. The beer was cold in his hands, the bottles clinking together as he carried them inside. He placed them in the freezer, the frosty air biting at his fingers, before heading to the bathroom.

The shower was a sanctuary, the hot water cascading over his skin, washing away the tension, or so he thought. As he stood there, his hands wandered, drawn to the place he’d avoided for so long. His vagina. It had been ages since he’d touched himself there. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the soft, sensitive flesh, his breath quickening.

But just as he was about to delve deeper, the bathroom door creaked open. John froze, his heart pounding in his chest. David stood there, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Didn’t think I’d catch you like this?” David’s voice was low, almost a purr.

John’s face burned with shame, his hands dropping to his sides. He tried to step back, but David was already there, his hands gripping John’s hips, pulling him closer. David’s fingers slid over John’s butt, squeezing and spanking, the sound echoing in the small space.

“A better fit than anyone I’ve been with,” David whispered, his breath hot against John’s ear.

David’s words were like a brand, searing into his skin. He stumbled out of the bathroom, his cheeks flaming, his mind reeling.

In the kitchen, John forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He rummaged through the pantry, finding the ingredients for spaghetti. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, guiding him through the steps. “Salt the water, don’t overcook the pasta, and always taste as you go.” The familiar motions calmed him, but only for a moment. Thoughts of his family intruded, the judgment and disappointment they’d feel if they knew the truth. His hands faltered, the wooden spoon clattering against the pot.

David emerged from the shower, his hair damp, a towel slung low on his hips. He sniffed the air, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Smells good. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

John shrugged, avoiding David’s gaze. “My dad taught me.”

David laughed, a mocking edge to his voice. “Wife material, huh? More so with that little secret of yours.”

John’s face heated, but he said nothing, stirring the sauce with more force than necessary.

Dinner was tense, the silence broken only by the clinking of forks against plates. David ate with gusto, complimenting the food between bites. “Not bad, John. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

John forced a smile, his stomach churning. After the meal, David surprised him by grabbing a dish towel and helping with the cleanup, a rare gesture that left John unsettled.

“Movie time,” David announced, drying his hands on a towel. “Grab the beer from the freezer and meet me in the living room.”

John obeyed, his fingers brushing the cold bottles as he carried them to the living room. David had already set up a makeshift bed on the floor, a mattress, blankets, and pillows arranged in a cozy nest.

“Join me,” David said, patting the space beside him.

John hesitated, but David’s gaze was unwavering. He sat down, his back stiff, as David pressed play on the TV. Thunderbolts filled the screen, the familiar Marvel logo flashing across the screen.

David spooned up behind John, his arm wrapping around John’s waist. It felt suffocating, yet John didn’t pull away. David’s hand wandered, his fingers brushing against John’s chest, then lingering.

“Damn,” David murmured, his breath warm against John’s neck. “They feel like a girl’s boobs. Who knew?”

John flinched, but David’s hand was relentless, squeezing and fondling as the movie played on. John sipped his beer, the bitterness mirroring the taste in his mouth.

The movie ended, and David stretched, yawning. “Too tired to move. We’re sleeping here.”

He stripped down to his trunks, his muscles flexing as he stood. “You,” he said, pointing at John, “strip down to your underwear. No need to be shy.”

John obeyed, his cheeks burning as he peeled off his clothes. David whistled, his eyes roaming over John’s body.

“That ass,” David said, his voice laced with admiration. “No matter how many times I see it, it never gets old.”

He slapped John’s butt, the sound sharp in the quiet room, before pulling John close.

“No need to suck my dick tonight,” David said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Let your pretty little mouth rest.”

He spooned John again, his arm tight around John’s waist. The room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing. John’s mind raced, his body tense, but the day’s events caught up with him, dragging him into an uneasy sleep.


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