Writing a sex scene is an artform I am still trying to figure out. Feedback is nice, trolling is something, and having an audience is a thrill I hadn't expected.
iampresent Stories
Below you can find the complete collection of stories by iampresent.
On Duncan’s December birthday morning, Jake wakes early, prepares food, and shares a quiet, practiced routine in the caretaker’s cottage. Messages and a call from Duncan’s family intrude, revealing tensions he calmly contains. Together, they move through the morning with intimacy, restraint, and a steady, unspoken understanding of their bond.
The last weekend before exams — Duncan extracts a brand to carry them through two weeks apart, then leaves with Zach for the leather shop. Exams pass. Charlotte's done and Garrett's home. Bobby's baked something he won't name. Friday Duncan walks through the door, they run a bath, and go to bed early. One week.
Duncan comes home Tuesday night for a nine-day recalibration that includes something new from the black leather case. Thanksgiving fills Mrs. Samuels' apartment with the whole assembled family — Linc, a newborn Kelly, Molly commandeering Duncan onto the floor with her plastic animals — and Bobby's cookies earn the highest possible verdict.
The weekend after Duncan leaves, the planning begins in earnest. Zach asks to witness the ceremony over Wednesday pizza, Duncan says yes and offers him leather to wear. Saturday at the cabin Bobby produces a four-page clipboard — location, witnesses, outfits, Toph confirmed — and Cal delivers his honest assessment of the odds before nodding once.
Cal and Bobby come to the caretaker's cottage for breakfast — Bobby stepping outside his perimeter for the first time, the morning costing what it costs. Around the kitchen table the chain at Jake's throat becomes the whole conversation, and by the time Cal says Christmas, Bobby is already planning what to bake.
Toph reveals the finished prints — the pillory shot and the kneeling shot confirmed as the anchor of a January gallery show. The afternoon pivots to Games and Lanes, a surprise birthday dinner for Zach, and a circular booth full of people who have quietly become a constellation. The drive home settles the rest.
The weekend moves through inspection, Cal's cabin, and Toph's pillory shoot before arriving at its quiet center — Duncan crouching in front of Jake on the rug, a fine chain settling at his throat. A promise of the formal collar to come, when the time is right. The key goes in the junk drawer.
The second weekend home moves through its paces with quiet rightness — the river shoot at dawn with the brothers, Toph's studio in the afternoon, Sean's band at the Anchor that night with the whole family finally in one room. Duncan earns his place at the table, and both men say what needs saying before the Grenadier disappears through the gate.
Jake spends his first Saturday apart checking in with Cal, touring Cal's dungeon with Bobby — including the custom chair built around Bobby's exact measurements — and declining to sit in it without Duncan. He comes home to find a box Duncan left in the dresser, already packed for the exact night that followed.
Duncan leaves at ten on the dot, and Jake fills the silence with cleaning, phone calls, and the quiet comfort of people showing up without being asked — Zach with a scrub brush, Ellie with champagne and stories about a four-year-old Duncan conducting meetings, his mother with a pot of something warm. The first week apart holds.
Duncan drives Jake's truck to the club — a small, deliberate act of claiming — for one last night of dancing, sequins, and a run-in with Daisy and Tyler that quietly closes a chapter. Back at the cottage, the night ends on the front room rug, slow and frantic and entirely honest, both of them finally saying it out loud.
The week winds down in small, vivid moments — Zach silently clocking the pillory, Charlotte and Jake finding their rhythm as lab partners, Wednesday's very long night, and Ellie's quiet reassurance in the driveway. By Friday afternoon, Duncan's suitcases are loaded and Jake is home just in time to settle the only question that matters: grey sweater
Jake's first day at university brings a major change — switching to Civil Engineering, a new lab partner named Charlotte, and an accidental coming out he barely notices doing. A visit to photographer Toph Islip ends with an intriguing proposition that Jake brings home to Duncan and Cal, and the evening closes with Duncan and the pillory.
A distress text from Bobby pulls Jake to the cabin, where a quiet conversation about the collar — what it means, what it promises — plants something small and certain in Jake's chest. He comes home to find Duncan packing a week early, and the two spend their dwindling time together the only way that feels true enough.
Jake navigates a tense run-in with Graham Smythe at the main house before returning to the cottage, where the frustration dissolves into an intimate role reversal — Duncan's once-a-year concession. Later, Jake meets his brothers at a brewery to plan their mother's birthday, and the Samuels boys, in their own blunt, irreverent way, fall into line be
Duncan whisks Jake to an exclusive dry nightclub where a chance reunion with cousin Celia, Jayson, and his entourage pulls Jake onto the dance floor — and somewhere in the pounding bass and strobing lights, he finally lets go. The night ends back at the cottage where Jayson puts a willing Preston through his paces in the pillory.
Duncan's visit to his father's imposing office turns into a cold, controlled standoff — Duncan leaving the older man with a quiet threat and zero apology. Back on the road, he shakes off the confrontation the only way he knows how, sending Jake an impulsive 9:39 p.m. dancing summons. Miles away on the estate trail, Jake reads the text and smiles.
Duncan delivers a second correction — nipple clamps and a lesson in patience — before leaving Jake alone for the day with orders to occupy himself. Jake's attempt at self-directed research sends him spiraling into the internet's worst corners until Bobby talks him down with characteristic practicality. A hard sprint through the estate woods finally
Cal sends Jake home with orders to spend his last free week with Duncan, and the two make the most of it — tumbling from bed to a spontaneous arcade outing where Duncan wins an enormous sequined bear and earns Zach's reluctant approval.
Davis arrives at George's deceptively ordinary woodland property, stepping across the threshold of a stark cinderblock dungeon where he is stripped, inspected, restrained, and broken down over three hours of methodical, unyielding dominance. What begins as a carefully negotiated scene becomes something far more transformative — by the time George c
Duncan lays out the rules for their long-distance dynamic before school separates them, then pivots to a lazy Sunday morning that ends with Jake making two big moves at once — coming out to his mother and introducing her to his boyfriend. The dinner at Olive Garden is warm, wary, and quietly revealing, as Mrs. Samuels sizes Duncan up.
Jake moves his few belongings into the caretaker cottage, settling into his new life under Duncan's quiet, watchful direction. That evening, the two are invited to Cal's cabin for dinner, where Jake meets Bobby — Cal's collared boy — and finds an unexpected ally. Over roasted vegetables and stolen kitchen conversation, Bobby offers Jake something.
The morning after Cal's caning finds Jake tending Duncan's wounds with sandalwood oil and quiet reverence — care flowing in both directions for the first time. Over coffee, they negotiate the cottage arrangement on Jake's terms: a partnership, not a handout. Eleanor arrives, assesses Jake with warm precision, and delivers her verdict. That night J
In the quiet aftermath of Cal's punishment, Jake finds his footing in a world that has shifted completely beneath him — fielding a phone call from his mother with one foot still in the dungeon, and tucking a broken man under a duvet with the other. The math of his old life and the pull of this new one are already doing the calculation without him.
The arrival of Cal Whitfield — Duncan's BDSM mentor and a man who commands a room without raising his voice — shatters the domestic peace of the cottage when he makes clear that Duncan's no-show to their appointment won't go unpunished. Jake, still finding his footing in this new world, is pulled into the ritual hierarchy as a silent, kneeling witn
After a grueling shift at the taproom — including a charged, stolen moment with Duncan in the back hallway — Jake shows up at the cottage early, exhausted and worn down to the bone. What begins as a tender act of care quickly turns into a raw, unguarded confession of love, forcing both men to reckon with what they actually mean to each other.
Duncan and Jake put Jayson through an intense, punishing afternoon at the cottage — nipple clamps, a ball spreader, the pillory, and finally a raw, dominant spit roast that leaves all three men thoroughly spent. Over scotch and a quiet debrief, Duncan reveals the unlikely, almost cosmic twist of fate that brought Jake — his childhood target turned
The morning after brings a tender, unguarded moment between Jake and Duncan as they navigate what they've become to each other — and agree that what happened between them is far more than a one-time thing. But the arrival of Jayson, a nervous novice Duncan had already invited, forces the two men into a new dynamic, with Jake stepping into the role
When Jake logs onto a hookup app to find an anonymous dominant to work out his frustration after a charged run-in with his old rival Duncan Smythe, neither man realizes they've matched with the very person consuming their thoughts. What begins as a carefully orchestrated power exchange explodes into something far more raw and revelatory when Duncan
The Ladder Down – A hustling videographer takes one “discreet” job too many and finds himself sliding into a world of fat envelopes, blank faces, and a hole he barely climbs out of in time.
A confidant. A kind of godparent to the life we’ve made. And sometimes—on special nights—we go to the club. We dress the part. We perform. Publicly. Purposefully. Francis often joins us—sometimes as stagehand, sometimes as audience, sometimes simply to laugh and drink and toast what we’ve become.
That part I expected. I’d been through regular physicals before. But this one was in the open, right there in the locker vestibule, not even behind the partitions. Just me, the guy with the clipboard, and Coach off to the side chewing gum like it bored him.
I woke to darkness. No noise. Just the shifting sensation of the room around me, cloaked in night. I had no idea what time it was—late, early, somewhere in between.