I sat on the outdoor lounge, the evening air kissing my skin with a gentle coolness as I lost myself in the pages of my book. The only sound was the occasional chirp of a cricket, a stark contrast to the thundering noises that often echoed from the living room.
Zac and Henry's laughter and curses occasionally pierced the serene silence of the evening, a stark contrast to the peacefulness of the outdoors. I could hear the faint sounds of a video game, the explosions and cheers echoing through the closed glass door of the living area. It was a typical scene, my brothers' testosterone-filled camaraderie spilling into the quiet of the house as they battled it out on the screen.
But tonight, it was more than just background noise; it was a siren's call that my body couldn't ignore. The tension from the football practice still lingered around me, and my thoughts kept drifting back to the muscular forms of Zac and Jason, their sweat-slicked skin, and the way their bodies moved with power and grace.
I set the book aside, the story forgotten as I leaned back into the cushioned embrace of the lounge chair, closing my eyes. My mind conjured up an image of Zac, his lean, muscular body hovering above me, his abs a series of hard planes that my eyes greedily devoured. His pectorals bulged, begging for my touch, and I could almost feel the heat radiating from him as it looked like he had just finished a grueling workout.
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I let the fantasy take over. I imagined his strong arms pinning me down, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against mine, his muscles flexing as he held himself over me. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint hint of sweat from his exertions, filled my nostrils, making me light-headed with desire.
Then, as if by some twisted magic, Jason appeared in my mind's eye, standing to my right, his own chest a canvas of power. He was shirtless, his broad shoulders tapering down to a set of beefy abs that looked like they had been carved from marble. His eyes met mine, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched me devour him with my gaze. His fingers danced over his own chest, tracing the contours of his pecs before sliding up and over his wide shoulder, down the bicep of his outstretched arm, flexing it slightly to show off the massive bulge of muscle.
My breath hitched, my heart racing as I imagined his hand sliding down, down... to the bulge in his shorts. And then, as if reading my thoughts, Jason's hand dipped below the waistband, teasing the outline of his cock, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel my own cock swelling in response, straining against the fabric of my pants.
I lifted my hand unconsciously, the image of Jason's hand on his cock so vivid in my mind that I found myself mimicking the action. My palm hovered over the bulge in my shorts, my heart racing as the fabric stretched against my growing erection. The sensation was electric, and I couldn't help but moan softly, the sound lost to the quiet night.
Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality by the sound of laughter. My eyes flew open to see Zac and Henry standing over me, their own chests heaving with mirth. They had snuck out onto the patio without me noticing, and the look on their faces told me they had seen everything.
Zac's eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in my flushed cheeks and the hand hovering over my crotch. "Looks like someone's enjoying their book a little too much," he said, his voice filled with a knowing smirk.
I yanked my hand away, my cheeks burning with a blush that spread from my neck to the tips of my ears. "What the hell?" I sputtered, trying to regain my composure. "What are you two, a bunch of peeping Toms?"
Zac and Henry's laughter grew louder, their broad chests bouncing with each hearty guffaw. "Couldn't resist checking out the goods, little bro?" Henry teased, his voice a deep rumble.
I rolled my eyes and sat up, adjusting my shorts with a huff. "You're both such creeps," I said, trying to play it cool despite the embarrassment burning through me.
"Come on, little bro," Henry said, ruffling my hair with a grin. "It's just a bit of fun." His biceps bulged as he leaned down, the playfulness in his eyes making it hard to stay mad.
"Yeah, we're just messing with you," Zac added, his voice deeper and more serious than Henry's. "But you can't blame us for making fun of you, when you're sitting out here drooling over some book with your hand down your pants."
Their laughter was contagious, and I couldn't help but chuckle despite the heat still lingering in my cheeks. "It's not funny," I protested weakly. "I was just... restless."
"Sure you were," Henry said, his grin never wavering. He extended a hand, my eyes instinctively on his massive bicep as he reached out to help me to my feet. "Come on, we're just messing with you."
I took his hand, letting Henry's grip pull me to my feet. His touch was gentle, his strength evident in the way he effortlessly lifted me.
"We actually came out here to ask if you wanted to join us for a round," Henry began to change the subject, his hand still holding my own. "We're done with the 1vs1, and we're thinking of jumping into a trio match against some randoms online. What do you say?"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, playing it off as casually as possible, trying to hide my racing thoughts. "Stop teasing me and maybe I'll bless you with a round," I quipped, matching their playful banter.
Henry grinned down at me, seemingly happy with my response, and immediately turned to head back inside. "You heard him, Zac," he called over his shoulder. "Don't harass our little bro too much."
My eyes drifted from Henrys wide back to Zac as he nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Allright, let's go."
Henry didn't need to hear anything else. He lead the way back into the house, his muscular making its way towards the glass door.
Zac fell into step behind me, his footsteps silent on the concrete. As we approached the door, Henry looked over his shoulder and winked at me, his handsome face breaking into a wide grin, before turning back.
As I stepped over the threshold, the cool air of the house hit me, and the smells of their sweat and the faint scent of their cologne wafted towards me. I felt a sudden, firm slap on my ass, and I whipped around to find Zac grinning at me, his hand already retreated to his side as if nothing had happened. The sound was almost silent, but the sting remained, sending a jolt of heat through my body.
"What the hell was that for?" I hissed, trying to keep my voice low enough not to carry into the house.
Zac's grin grew wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the patio. "Just testing the goods," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Seeing how much beating your fat ass can handle in the game," he whispered, the double entendre clear in his tone.
I turned to look at him, my eyes narrowing slightly, trying to discern if he was referring to the game or something else entirely. The look on his face was unreadable, a mask of innocence that didn't quite hide the mischief in his eyes.
In the living room, Henry had already claimed his spot on the couch, his massive body sprawled out like a king on a throne. The sight of his bulging muscles stretching out on the cushions was almost too much to handle, especially after the events of the day. His, sadly, covered chest was a landscape of power, his flaccid cock, still big enaugh to be visible even when soft, nestled comfortably against his thigh.
If I hadn't known about Henry's current romantic engagement, I might have allowed myself to be consumed by the intoxicating scent of testosterone in the air. The sight of his muscular body sprawled on the couch was a tantalizing reminder of what lay beneath those layers of clothing - a body I had explored in depth during our secret encounters. But the presence of hot girl was a stark reminder that my desire for him should remain under wraps, at least for now, until he crawled back, desperate for my touch again.
Zac, ever the opportunist, didn't miss a beat of my absence and immediately claimed the couch with a dramatic flop that sent cushions flying. He had the audacity to stretch out his long, muscular legs across the entire length of the seating area, his broad chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. I couldn't help but admire the way his abs flexed with each inhale, his muscles playing peekaboo with the hem of his shirt as he settled in.
As Henry took his place beside him, the couch groaned under the weight of their combined mass, their bulging biceps and sculpted torsos taking up what little space remained. The sight of them lounging so casually, so unabashedly confident in their own skins, was turning me on more than I cared to admit. My still not-so-soft cock began to chub up again, eager to be part of the unspoken competition of masculinity that seemed to pervade our every interaction.
Swallowing hard, I decided to take a seat on the soft rug in front of the couch. It was the quickest and least obvious way to hide my growing arousal, and I didn't want to give them any more ammo for their teasing.
As Henry handed me a controller, I couldn't help but feel the anticipation building in the pit of my stomach. The game loaded, and before I knew it, the sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the room. The TV screen flickered with the chaos of the battle royale, and I was thrown into the fray with little to no warning.
I tried to keep up with the frenetic pace of the game. The controls were familiar under my fingertips, but I still stumbled clumsily through the virtual landscape. The banter between Zac and Henry was a constant stream of trash talk and strategic advice, their voices clearly enjoying the thrill of competition. Even in a team game...
After a particularly embarrassing death, Henry reached for my controller, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Now, you've gotta help us out somehow different," he said with a playful nudge. "You're deadweight out there."
Zac chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out even further. "Why don't you massage the feet that have been carrying you?" he suggested, his tone a mix of challenge and suggestion. "At least you can contribute to the team in some way."
I narrowed my eyes, understanding the game he was playing. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "You're such an ass," I said, but there was a hint of a smile on my face that I made sure to hide from him.
"What, you don't want to show some appreciation for the effort we put into carrying you?" Zac asked, his voice filled with fake innocence. "You know, Henry's been working really hard on his game. Maybe a little... foot massage would be just the thing to boost his spirits."
I rolled my eyes at Zac's not-so-subtle hint. "Fuck off," I said, trying to keep the grin from spreading too wide. But before the words had fully left my mouth, Henry had already swung one of his massive, muscular legs over my shoulders, his thighs brushing against my cheeks, while his foot landied with surprising gentleness in my lap.
"Come on, little bro," Henry said, his voice filled with innocent cheerfulness. "Rub-a-dub-dub, help a guy out." He wiggled his toes under his sock, and I couldn't help but stare at them, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and arousal.
Zac's grin grew wider as he watched the exchange. "Looks like Henry's really into the idea," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room. "Why don't you give him what he wants?"
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way Henry's muscular thigh was pressing into my neck. The weight of his leg was surprisingly comforting, the warmth of his skin seeping into me, and the smell of his sweat and cologne making my mouth water. With a huff, I reached up and took his foot in my hands, giving it a squeeze before I began to massage his sole.
His sigh of pleasure was like a drug, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my cock. I focused on the game, trying to keep my mind on anything other than the feeling of Henry's foot in my hands. The muscles in his leg tensed and released as I worked the tension out of his foot, his toes curling slightly with each press of my thumb. It was surprisingly intimate, and the heat between us grew with each passing second.
Zac watched us, his eyes flickering from the screen to us, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. He was enjoying this little display of domination, the way Henry had so easily maneuvered me into this position. I knew Zac was the real mastermind here, the one orchestrating this whole scene, but I couldn't find it in me to care. The feeling of Henry's foot in my hand, the power of his leg resting on my shoulders, was too intoxicating.
I began to rub Henry's arch with more pressure, feeling the tension melt away under my fingers. His foot was like a brick, solid and warm, and his skin was smooth from his constant attention to his body. Each stroke sent waves of heat through me, making it harder and harder to ignore the erection growing in my lap.
"You're really good at that," Henry murmured, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. "Keep going."
I did, my hands working on autopilot as I tried to ignore the way my own body was responding. Zac's focus had to be on the TV again, his performance in the game now even better than Henry's... His fingers flew over the buttons, his eyes never leaving the screen as he navigated the digital battlefield with a finesse that seemed almost superhuman. Henry was a little distracted, his moans of pleasure growing louder with each firm press of my thumb on his arch. It was like watching a maestro at work, except instead of an orchestra, he was conducting the symphony of destruction on the screen, all the while keeping a keen eye on the side show happening right beside him.
The game grew more intense, the circle closing in, and the three of us huddled closer together. The tension was palpable, not just in the game, but in the air around us. The smell of sweat, cologne, and arousal was a heady mix that had me light-headed and my heart racing.
In the final moments, Zac made a bold move, sneaking up on the last opponent with a silent, deadly efficiency that left me in awe. He took the shot, and the enemy crumpled to the ground, the victory screen popping up with a fanfare of music and lights.
"Fuck yeah!" Zac shouted, tossing the controller aside and leaning back into the couch with a smug smile. "I told you, I got this."
Henry, still basking in the afterglow of his foot massage, grinned down at me. "Looks like little bro's got some skills after all," he said, his voice teasing.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my body was reacting to their closeness. But as I sat there, with Henry's leg still draped over my shoulders and Zac's victory echoing in my ears, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of pride and arousal. They were both so... male, so powerful, so overwhelmingly present in the room. And here I was, the tiny, gay runt of the litter, somehow holding my own.
"Well done," I murmured, my voice hoarse with the effort of keeping my desires in check. "I guess I'm not entirely useless."
Zac's eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw something in them that made my stomach flip-flop. It was a look that said he knew exactly what was going on beneath the surface, that he was enjoying this game as much as I was. And in that moment, as the victory tune played out, I realized that maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying playing his own game.
The room was quiet except for Henry's content sighs and the occasional clinking of Zac's bottle against his teeth as he took a sip. The tension had shifted from the game to the three of us, our bodies close together in the dim light.
"Thanks, little bro," Henry said, his voice still thick with satisfaction as he pulled his leg away. "But I have to admit, Zac really carried us through that last bit." He turned his gaze to Zac, who was still basking in the glory of the victory. "You deserve a massage too, man."
Zac took a swig of his water, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, though the game had moved to the stats. "If you guys think I don't know when I'm being buttered up, you're wrong," he said with a grin. But there was something in his tone that suggested he didn't mind.
"Come on," Henry coaxed, his hand landing heavily on Zac's shoulder. "Let him show you how good he is."
Zac looked over at me, his expression unreadable. "If he's done, he's done," he said, his eyes flicking over to my crotch, where my erection was now painfully obvious.
"I'm done," I said quickly, trying to stand up, but Henry's grip on the back of the couch kept me in place.
"But what if I want one?" Zac said, his eyes locked on mine, the challenge clear. "A real massage, in my room," he added, his voice dropping an octave. "For a winner," he said, the double entendre hanging in the air.
The room grew even hotter, the air thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the game. Henry's hand lingered on the back of the couch, his eyes flickering from Zac to me, his smile fading into a look of confusion as he clearly missed the undercurrents of Zac's words. "You're the best," Henry said, patting Zac's back with a thump that sounded like a drum roll. "But I didn't mean to push you out of the running for the massage," he added, looking at me with hope in his eyes.
"Nah," I said, my voice a little too high. "I'm... I'm done for now." I scooted out from under Henry's leg, trying to ignore the way the fabric of my shorts clung to my hard cock. "But if you guys want to keep playing, I'll just... I'll go grab a drink."
Zac's smirk grew wider as he stood up behind me, stretching his muscular body in a way that made my mouth water. "Thanks, little bro," he said, his voice a low purr. "But I think I'll be on my way." He winked at me, the gesture so subtle that I wasn't sure if Henry had noticed. "I'll be upstairs... If you think I deserve one, you can come up," he added, before heading towards the stairs with a swagger that made my knees wobble.
I watched him go, his broad back and tight ass a beacon of temptation. The thought of going to his room, of being alone with him, was like a siren's call I couldn't resist. And yet, the reality of it was terrifying. What would happen if I followed him?
Henry seemed seemingly unimpressed with my refusal to give him the massage. With a shrug, Henry turned back to the TV, his muscles rippling as he moved. I took Zac's spot on the couch, trying to ignore the warmth his body had left behind. I picked up the forgotten controller, my thoughts elsewhere until I felt a sudden squeeze on my thigh.
Looking down, I saw Henry's colossal hand resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing over the fabric of my shorts. The bulge in his pants was unmistakable, his snake of arousal poking out like it had a mind of its own. He leaned over, his muscular chest pressing against my arm, and whispered, "So Dylan, now that we're alone, you think you could help me out?" It was a question we'd danced around countless times before, but this time, it hit me differently.
The revelation of Henry's date with a girl had thrown a wrench into our secret arrangement. Normally, I'd have been eager to oblige, to be the one to ease the tension in his body, to be the one to make him feel good. But now, I couldn't ignore the sting of jealousy that burned in my chest. It was like he'd been unfaithful to me, even though I had no right to feel that way.
I looked at him, his hand still resting on my leg, his thumb idly stroking the fabric of my shorts. The bulge in his pants was undeniable, his snake begging for attention, just like it had countless times before. But this time, it was different. This time, the thought of Henry with someone else made my stomach churn. "I'm tired, Henry," I said, my voice tight. "Not today."
It was the first time I had ever denied him outright, and I could see the confusion in his eyes. "Oh, okay bro," Henry said, his hand retracting from my thigh. The disappointment was clear, but he didn't push. Maybe he thought I was tired from the game, or perhaps he sensed something had changed. Either way, he let it go, watching me as I stood up.
As I walked upstairs, my thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and annoyance. The thought of Henry with someone else had me seeing red whenever it came to my mind. It was irrational, I knew that, but the emotional turmoil was something I couldn't just shrug off. The bond we had was complicated, but it was ours, and the thought of him sharing one of the best parts of it with someone else was like a punch to the gut.
My hand tightened around the banister as I climbed, each step bringing me closer to the upper floor. The rage within me was a living, pulsing entity, demanding to be satiated. I knew it was irrational, that Henry had every right to date whoever he wanted, but the possessive part of me that had grown accustomed to his attentions couldn't accept it. The lust that had been simmering all evening boiled over, and I found myself craving the intensity of Zac's challenge as the result of it.
Without a moment's hesitation, I took the stairs two at a time, my heart racing with a mix of anger and desire. I was going to give Zac the massage he had so cockily demanded, but it was going to be on my terms. I threw open the door to his room without knocking, my chest heaving with the effort of climbing the stairs and the tumult of emotions within me.
Zac looked up from his phone, his eyes widening slightly at my sudden entrance. He was shirtless, lying on his belly, the muscles of his back rippling like waves in the moonlit room. His feet, the object of my fury and lust, hung over the edge of the bed, toes wiggling slightly.
"Little bro," he said, his voice laced with surprise and amusement. "I didn't expect you to take me up on that offer." He sat up, his abs contracting as he moved, and patted the bed next to him. "But I'm not complaining."
The rage that had fueled my climb upstairs now morphed into a fierce hunger as I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me with a deliberate click. I could feel the heat radiating from his body as I approached the bed, his scent filling my nose like a potent aphrodisiac. I didn't bother to hide my hard-on anymore; it was clear what I wanted, what I needed.
"You know, Zac," I said, my voice dripping with a mix of challenge and need, "you're just my type." I stepped closer to the bed, my heart racing. "Tall, built, and a complete asshole." I licked my lips, my eyes never leaving his. "But in reality, you don't deserve me as a brother."
The smug grin on Zac's face slipped away, replaced by a look of surprise and something... hunger. "But right now," I continued, "I don't care." I stepped closer still, my cock straining against my shorts. "You know how much I want you, how much I crave you."
He met my gaze, his eyes flickering down to my crotch before coming back up to meet mine. "You think you can handle me, little bro?" His voice was a low growl, the challenge clear.
I stepped closer to the bed, watching him watching me as I did so. "I know you want me too," I said, my voice dripping with need. "And I'm tired of playing games."
"Either you give me what I need," I continued, the words coming out of my mouth like a dare, "or I walk out that door and go find Mason to do it for me." The mention of Mason's name hung in the air like a challenge, and I watched as Zac's expression shifted from surprise to a flash of something that looked suspiciously like rage. His nostrils flared, and the muscles in his arms tightened.
Without a word, he stood up from the bed, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. He took a step closer, his eyes dark with something primal. "You little fucking tease," he snarled, his hand shooting out to grab the back of my neck, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. "You'll never touch anyone else," he growled, his grip tightening. "You're mine."
With a swift motion, Zac unbuckled his pants and shoved them down his hips, his thick cock springing free. It was a declaration of dominance, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill of fear and excitement. His muscular thighs tensed as he stepped out of his pants, the room suddenly feeling too small, too hot. He stalked towards me, his bare feet making no sound on the carpet. "You're done with play games? Fine," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Come here, fag."
The word sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn't dare move. It was as if his rage had transformed him into something else, something primal. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards the bed. "You're going to show me what you're really made of," he growled, his eyes burning with a possessiveness that was as terrifying as it was arousing.
With one swift movement, Zac had me bent over the mattress, my face buried in a pillow, muffling my moans. He didn't bother to take my shorts off, instead ripping them down just enough to expose my ass. I felt his hot breath against the back of my neck before he bit down hard, the sting of pain sending a jolt straight to my cock. His hand gripped the fabric of my shirt, wrenching it up to my face. "Bite down on this," he ordered, stuffing it into my mouth.
I did as I was told, my teeth sinking into the material as he positioned himself behind me. The tip of his cock nudged against my hole, and I couldn't help but tense up. But the fear was short-lived, overwhelmed by the desire that had been building for so long.
Zac's hand came down in a swift slap across my ass, the sound echoing through the room. "Relax, fag," he murmured, his voice still tinged with anger. "You know you want this."
And it was true. As much as I feared the raw power he wielded in that moment, I also craved it. His rage at the mention of Mason had unleashed something in him, something primal and demanding. And as he lined himself up with my quivering hole, the fear and anger melded into pure desire, a heady cocktail that had me pushing back into him, begging silently for more.
With a grunt, Zac shoved into me, his thick cock filling me up in one brutal thrust. I bit down hard on the shirt, my eyes squeezed shut as the fabric muffled my cry of pleasure. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he began to pound into me, each thrust a claim of ownership that sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body.
The room spun around me, the only anchor Zac's muscular frame and the feel of his cock inside me. His wide shoulders and tight abs flexed with each movement, the sight of his lean, hunky body in the moonlight a visual symphony of dominance and lust. Each slap of his thighs against mine was a reminder of his power, each grunt of pleasure a declaration of victory.
He didn't hold back, not even for a moment. It was as if he was fucking the thought of Mason out of me, each thrust a punishment for my perceived infidelity. But instead of pain, I found myself reveling in it, my body responding with a fervor that surprised even me. With every thrust, the tension between us grew, our breaths coming faster and harder until we were both panting like animals.
The room was a cocoon of heat and desire, the scent of his sweat and mine mixing into a heady perfume that intoxicated me. His grip on my hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic, his breath hitching in his throat.
"You're going to come for me," Zac snarled, his voice a mix of anger and need. "You're going to forget all about that little twink." His thrusts grew deeper, harder, the sound of his hips smacking against my ass a punctuation to his words.
I moaned into the pillow, the fabric of my shirt a wet mess in my mouth. The mention of Mason had done more than just provoke him; it had ignited a fire within me, one that Zac was all too eager to fuel. His possessive claim was a turn-on, his rage a thrill. I pushed back into him, my body moving of its own accord, begging for more.
The sound of a door opening, followed by Henry's voice, cut through the haze of pleasure. "Dylan?" he called out, his footsteps heavy on the floor.
Panic surged through me, but Zac was unfazed. He simply tightened his grip on my hips, pulling me back onto his cock with a ferocity that had me seeing stars. He pushed my head down further into the pillow, his hand over my mouth to muffle my moans as Henry's footsteps grew closer.
"You're going to stay here, and you're going to stay quiet," Zac hissed into my ear, his voice a dark promise.
"He is in here with me Henry!" Zac bellowed through the wall, his voice a mix of frustration and command. "Giving me the massage I earned with that victory downstairs!" His thrusts grew rougher, more punishing, as if he was trying to prove a point to the unknowing Henry. I could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles bulged and flexed with every movement.
"Oh, okay..." Henry's voice trailed off, but Zac made sure to keep him away, "You had your massage," he called back, his thrusts growing more demanding. "Now, let me have mine in peace," he shouted, his breath back against my neck.
"Allright Zac," Was all Henry said before his footsteps retreated.
The tension in the room was palpable, Zac's rage-driven desire a tangible force that had me trembling with anticipation. He didn't bother to acknowledge Henry's retreat, his focus solely on the task at hand. His hand remained clamped over my mouth, his cock pounding into me with a ferocity that was both thrilling and overwhelming.
I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my moans muffled by the fabric of my shirt. Zac's eyes were closed, his face a mask of concentration as he used my body to work through his anger and frustration. The room was filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, the smell of sweat and lust thick in the air.
When I came, it was like a dam breaking. The orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking as I bit down hard on the fabric in my mouth to keep from crying out. Zac's grip on my hips tightened, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. His breath was hot against my neck, his chest heaving with the effort. But even as I pulsed around him, he wasn't done. He pulled out, his cock glistening with his pleasure, and flipped me over onto my back.
"Look at me," he growled, his eyes snapping open and boring into mine. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice a mix of anger and desire. The possessiveness in his gaze was almost too much to bear, but I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me as he said it.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and yanked my shirt out of my mouth, tossing it aside. "Say it," he demanded. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," I gasped, my voice shaking with the force of my orgasm still reverberating through my body.
The smirk returned to his face, a victorious glint in his eye as he took his cock in his hand, stroking it a few times before letting go. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me down, his body looming over me like a mountain of muscle and rage. He knew I was watching, my eyes glued to his powerful form, and the anticipation was almost as sweet as the release itself.
Zac's hand returned to my throat, pushing me down even further until I was lying flat on my back. He hovered over me, his chest heaving, his muscles rippling with every breath he took. The scent of his arousal was overpowering, a heady mix of testosterone and desire that had my cock straining for his touch.
With a snarl, he positioned himself between over my face, his thick cock standing proud and flushed with the heat of passion. "You're going to watch me cum all over you," he growled, his eyes dark with desire. I couldn't look away, his dominance over me complete as I lay there, helpless and utterly exposed.
As he stroked himself, his abs tightening with the effort, I took in the sight of him, the epitome of masculine power and beauty. His wide shoulders cast a shadow over me, his chest a landscape of muscle and sweat. He was a force of nature, and I was his willing victim.
The sound of his hand moving over his cock was a symphony of lust, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're going to remember this every time you think about looking at another guy," he murmured, his voice a dark promise.
I nodded, the fabric of the shirt in my mouth now soaked with my saliva. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torture that had my body squirming with need.
With a final grunt, Zac erupted, his warm cum spurting across my chest and stomach. The sensation of his hot seed on my skin sent a fresh wave of pleasure through me, and I couldn't help but moan into the fabric. He watched me intently, his expression one of satisfaction and dominance as he painted me with his release.
He didn't stop until every drop had been wrung from his cock, his body shaking with the intensity of his climax. Then, with a final, triumphant squeeze, he pulled me closer, his cock still half-hard against my cheek. His hand reached down, the sticky mess between us a testament to our shared desire.
"You're mine," he said again, his voice now a low rumble. "Mine to fuck, mine to claim." His thumb traced a line through the cum on my chest, circling my left nipple before giving it a sharp pinch. "Mine to do whatever I want with," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper.
I nodded again, the reality of the situation crashing down on me. I had given him the power, and now he was wielding it with an intensity that both terrified and thrilled me.
Zac leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "If you ever forget again," he murmured, his voice a dark promise, "I'll just have to remind you." With that, I watched him scoop up a glob of his cum from my stomach with his thumb and brought it to my lips. The taste was bitter and salty, but I didn't protest. I licked it clean, the act a silent affirmation of his dominance over me.
He stepped back, his eyes never leaving my face as he grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped himself off. I remained on the bed, trembling slightly from the intensity of what had just happened. His gaze raked over my body, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good boy," he said, the words a mix of satisfaction and condescension that sent a shiver down my spine.
As he pulled his underwear back on, his massive thighs filled them out, the outline of his still semi-erect cock clearly visible. He watched me eyeing him up and down, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I know you like what you see." he taunted, his voice a mix of amusement and challenge. "If you're a good boy, maybe next time I'll let you explore a bit more."
The thought of having free rein over his powerful body was too tempting to ignore. My cheeks flushed at the prospect, but the fire in his eyes told me he was dead serious. He grabbed my chin, tilting my head back until I was forced to look into his eyes, his fingers calloused and firm against my jaw. "You're a good lay," he said, his voice dropping to a purr, "but you're also a cheeky little thing, aren't you?" His thumb brushed against my lower lip, and I bit back a whimper.
Zac flexed his biceps, the muscles bulging and contracting, the veins standing out like cords of steel. "You like that?" he asked, a smug look on his face. "Maybe I won't mind you offering that tight little ass of yours to me again some other time."
He let go of my chin and took a step back, his eyes scanning my body like a hawk eyeing its prey. "But for now," he said, his voice a low rumble, "we're going to keep this a secret."
