Across the Aisle

Randall is straight, or at the very least, he’s pretty sure he is. He hasn’t really had occasion to question his sexuality but it’s at his girlfriend’s cousin’s wedding where he catches the eye of a handsome guest on the other side of the aisle. The man’s gaze makes his heart beat faster in a way that his girlfriend hasn’t been able to in months.

It was during the vows that their eyes met across the way. The distance between them, pretty much the entire width of the church, shrank to nothing in a heartbeat.

The few moments that followed seemed to stretch on for eternity. The other guy was handsome. Randall was mesmerized. He’d never seen eyes so green, before. He felt he could lose himself in them if he stared too long and realized he wouldn’t mind if he did.

Disappointingly, the moment did not last. A strange, ugly emotion reared its head in Randall when he saw a woman grab onto and rest her head on the man’s arm. The man smiled at him, though, the corner of the guy’s mouth curling upward into a small smirk that mollified the odd beast that had stirred inside Randall.

Soon thereafter, the man turned his attention back to the bride and groom. Randall blinked. The spell was broken. His heart was beating fast in his chest and he didn’t know what to make of what had just happened.

Randall was as straight as they came. He’d always been. Not once, in his entire life had he ever thought of a guy in that way but for today. The strange thing was, he felt a bit forlorn as he followed the guy’s example and turned his attention back to the ceremony.

The whole event had been nice enough, thus far, but Randall wasn’t much invested. For one thing, he wasn’t related to anyone present. The only reason he’d even attended, in the first place, was because his girlfriend had insisted.

Truth be told, Randall wasn’t looking forward to meeting the extended family. He and the girl, Hannah, had only been seeing each other for the better part of six months. He’d had dinner with her parents but that was about it.

Randall had tried to make excuses to not come up until the day before but Hannah was having none of it. She’d been telling her aunts and uncles about him, she’d said. He had to come or else he was going to make her look bad, she’d said.

"I’d rather shove my hand down the sink and turn the garbage disposer on," was what Randall wished he’d said. Now, part of him was glad he’d come, as boring as it was to sit through a church wedding.

It was strange. Unsettling. Randall was secure in his sexuality—had been, at least—but he could tell this was different. The moment his gaze had met the guy’s, it was like nothing else mattered, and the whole world had shrunken down to just the two of them.

Randall loved his girlfriend. He enjoyed spending time with her—could think of a future with her—but she was safe. She was secure. Their relationship was good but not exciting.

Maybe, once upon a time, Hannah had been able to make him feel the way he felt now but Randall didn’t recall ever feeling such an intense desire to be with someone. Regardless, Randall had no intention to act on it. The guy was clearly in a relationship, to say nothing of the commitment he, himself, had made to Hannah.


"Hey."

The smooth, masculine voice made Randall jump. He was leaning against the counter of the open bar. Fortunately, the drinks he’d ordered hadn’t yet arrived; otherwise, they might have spilled all over the polished wood.

"Um, hey," said Randall. He’d been mulling over his relationship with Hannah, where he wanted it to go, and what to do about the feelings the guy he’d locked eyes with during the ceremony had stirred up.

Randall froze when he realized who was talking to him. It was the guy from before, sliding into the barstool next to his. He tried not to look.

"Here alone?" said the guy. He turned to face Randall, placing his elbow on the counter beside him and resting his cheek on his fist.

Randall’s cheeks warmed. He could see the guy’s bright green eyes at the periphery of his vision and they were profoundly distracting.

"Oh, no," Randall said, shaking his head. "My, uh… My girlfriend asked me to get us a drink and… um… I’m just waiting for them."

Pathetic, Randall. Real pathetic, Randall thought to himself. He felt like a total tool, bringing up having a girlfriend like that.

The guy chuckled. It was a pretty sound that made the tips of Randall’s ears hot. At least he wasn’t offended. "Me too, bro," said the guy.

An extended hand entered Randall’s field of vision. He had no choice to accept it, lest he be seen as rude. He turned the seat to face the guy and shook the hand that had been proffered.

"Dylan," said the guy. "But my friends call me Dyl."

Randall forced a smile. His heart was pounding in his chest. He felt like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning the moment his hand touched Dylan’s. "U-um… Randall," he said. "M-my friends call me Randy."

"Oh," said Dylan. The corner of his mouth curled up in a small smirk. "Pity they don’t call you honey…"

"W-what?" said Randall, taken aback by the comment.

Dylan chuckled. He leaned forward, looking Randall in the eye, and said, "Because honey and dill go together to make a great sauce."

Randall blushed. He laughed—nervously—and said, "H-haha. That’s funny, man…"

After Randall trailed off, an awkward silence ensued. He couldn’t meet Dylan’s eyes. He was afraid he’d end up staring. It was bad enough he kept trying to sneak glances when he thought Dylan wasn’t looking.

In an attempt to make things less weird, Randall cracked a joke. "I-It’s a good thing you’re good looking if that’s the kind of pick-up line you’re using," he said.

Dylan was silent for a moment. Afraid he’d done something to offend, Randall looked at Dylan and blinked when he saw the other man grinning widely, instead. "You think I’m good-looking?" said Dylan.

Randall’s cheeks just about burst into flames. "I-I—" he started. Just then, the bartender arrived with the drinks Randall had asked for. Saved by the bell.

Grabbing both drinks, Randall slid out of his chair. "I-I’m sorry, I-I have to get back to my girlfriend. M-maybe I’ll see you around. S-sorry!" he said, practically sprinting away without giving Dylan a chance to respond.


Six months on from the wedding and things had changed rather dramatically for Randall. For one thing, he wasn’t with Hannah, anymore.

There had been some friction in the relationship before the wedding but the ceremony had uncovered the cracks. It sputtered along for a few months more before it went out with a whimper, as relationships were wont to do when people grew apart. The break-up had been amicable, at least.

That was not to say that Randall hadn’t been miserable in the aftermath. He’d been filled with a strange numbness since he and Hannah parted.

Every day was a slog. Wake up in the morning. Shower. Have breakfast. Go to work. Get home. Eat. Shower. Go to bed. On the weekends, he went to bars to drown his sorrows. Hardly anything changed from one day to the next.

Randall went about his life feeling like something was missing. He thought about dating again but couldn’t muster the will to do it. He’d been propositioned a few times, on his trips to the bar, but he just never felt like his heart was in it.

With every week that went by, Randall’s interest in the opposite sex dwindled. At the same time, he noticed attractive men more and more.

Randall appreciated male beauty but mostly from a platonic sort of perspective. In the past, he’d never even spared the guys around him a second glance. Not anymore. Even so, he had no desire to entertain propositions from men. Granted, there was the occasional man that would pique Randall’s interest in more than a platonic sense, but never enough to overcome the general sexual and romantic apathy he felt.

Occasionally, Randall’s thoughts would stray to Dylan. He didn’t even know why. Dylan was as good as a stranger to him and yet somehow he felt like he’d known him forever. To make matters worse, Dylan was the only one that made his heart yearn and his loins stir.

Some days, Randall regretted that the first and only conversation he’d had with Dylan ended with him running away. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Dylan had been flirting with him that day.

Sometimes, Randall wondered if anything could have happened between them, then. He knew nothing could have. He had been in a relationship at the time and he wasn’t that kind of person. Still, he couldn’t help but imagine how different his life would be if something had.

With a sigh, Randall knocked back his beer. He visibly deflated as he set his glass down. He pushed it away to make space as he folded his arms on top of the counter and rested his head on top.

"Bad day?" said someone from just behind Randall.

"Bad week. Bad month. Meh," Randall grunted. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end but he didn’t know why. His mind failed to register that the voice speaking was the very same one that had featured many times in his dreams since his break-up with Hannah and even at times before then.

"I’m sorry to hear you and your girlfriend broke up, man," said the guy. Randall heard the squeal as whoever it was sat on the barstool next to him.

"Thanks, bro," said Randall. He turned his head to look at who he was talking to and froze. He was convinced he was dreaming. "I-is that you, Dylan?" he said.

Dylan chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "And I told you my friends call me Dyl."

The smile Dylan flashed at Randall made the latter’s brain short-circuit. For a moment, Randall’s thoughts scattered. He felt like his soul had left his body. "B-but we barely know each other," he said.

Dylan shrugged. "I like you," he said. "That’s good enough for me."

Randall turned his head away to hide the scarlet that blossomed on his cheeks. His heart had leaped at Dylan’s words. He knew that it was meant in a friendly way and yet some small part of him couldn’t help but hope that it was meant as more.

Once Randall was sure the color in his cheeks had subsided, he turned back to Dylan and said, "You live here?"

"I do, now!" said Dylan. "Moved down from Minneapolis after my girl and I broke up a few weeks ago."

Hearing that, Randall’s heart skipped a beat. The numbness he’d been feeling since the break-up with Hannah evaporated as if it had never been there, to begin with.

For reasons beyond his understanding, Randall felt… hopeful. He had a chance with Dylan and yet he didn’t even know why he wanted it so badly in the first place.

Randall choked it down. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Dylan might have been interested in him at the wedding but the same was not necessarily true, now. Besides, even if Dylan had broken up with his girlfriend, it didn’t follow that he’d be ready to move on so soon after.

"Never thought I’d run into you here, Randy," said Dylan.

Randall flushed. He felt like a virgin schoolgirl around Dylan. It was bad. The mere sound of his name on Dylan’s lips was enough to tie his stomach in knots.

"I-I never expected I’d see you again after the wedding, either, to be honest…" said Randall.

Dylan chuckled. "I’m just glad we were both wrong," he said.

Randall nodded. For all the uncertainty he felt, he was glad. "I-it’s definitely nice to see a familiar face."

"A good-looking face, if I remember correctly," said Dylan, bumping his elbow into Randall’s twice.

Randall’s face turned scarlet. "S-shut up!" he said.

An uncomfortable silence ensued but this time it was Dylan who broke it. "What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?"

Randall rested his chin on his folded arms and stared at his empty glass for a moment. "I-I know this sounds really cliché but… we just wanted different things, I guess?" he said.

"She, uh… She had this plan. For her life. Goals and milestones and all that shit, you know?" said Randall.

Hannah had been anxious to live a "good life." To her, that meant following the same script everyone else lived. The script that was supposed to lead to success and fulfillment despite the boatload of evidence to the contrary.

Randall sighed. It felt good to vent. He barely knew Dylan but he was listening, and that was enough. Words that he’d kept to himself for the past few months came tumbling out unrestrained. "Hannah was always in a bit of a hurry, you know? Stressed her out something fierce whenever she’d miss one of the milestones she made up when she was in high school…" he said.

"It always caused problems when we first started dating… She wanted me to meet her parents three weeks after we met because, and I quote, ‘I’m supposed to introduce a guy to my parents before I turn 24!’ I just wasn’t that kind of person, you know?"

Randall turned to face Dylan. His philosophy in life was more about taking things as they came. He rolled with the punches, so to speak. He didn’t particularly mind not being at the same stage in life as everyone else at the same age.

"I thought things were better," said Randall. "I thought maybe she’d be more willing to deviate from the plan while she was with me. The wedding made it clear there were cracks in the relationship, though."

Dylan clapped a hand on Randall’s shoulder. His touch was electric, making Randall shiver. "I see. That sucks, man. Guess she wanted to move things along, after that?" he said.

"Yeah," said Randall. "Her cousin was the only other person her age in her family that hadn’t gotten serious yet. After the wedding, it sort of hit her how ‘behind’ she was.

"She wanted to take our relationship to the next level. Wanted me to propose. Get married. Have a family soon after. I wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready to wait."

In the end, the difference in opinion was too great. The only option left was for Randall and Hannah to part ways. It was for the best but it still hurt like damn hell.

"I’m sorry, man," said Dylan, squeezing Randall’s shoulder.

Randall sniffled and wiped his eyes as he sat up. "It’s okay," he said. "If anything, I at least got something out of the break-up."

Dylan cocked an eyebrow.

Randall laughed. "I was on the fence before but I realized I don’t want children."

Dylan chuckled. "What, you don’t want to have sticky little monsters running around your personal space, screaming their heads off and sucking your wallet dry for the next 18 years, if you’re lucky?"

"Oh my god," said Randall, chortling. "You get me, man."

"Hell yeah, bro," said Dylan. "Why do you think I broke up with my girl? She told me she wanted three. I told her ‘fuck, no!’"

Randall burst out laughing hysterically, drawing a few looks from around the bar. He barely even noticed.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the irony, but Randall found the crass, nonchalant way that Dylan had talked about his relationship and the end of it. It put into stark relief his angst over Hannah. It made him see the relationship for what it was, for what it had been from the beginning: doomed.

Randall sniffled and rubbed his nose when he regained his composure. He looked Dylan in the eye and just like before, it felt as if the whole world contracted to just the space between the two of them.

Until now, Randall had been regretting the break-up. He’d wondered, at times, whether he was the one in the wrong for not wanting to go along with the life script. Not anymore. Staring at Dylan—because he was staring—made him realize that there were other options.

Maybe Randall didn’t have a future with Dylan. Maybe what he felt was little more than superficial infatuation. So what? It was something else, and that was all that mattered.

"So…" said Randall. "How, uh… How come you moved down here?"

Dylan shrugged. "After I became proudly single…" he started.

Randall chuckled.

Dylan smirked and continued, "I lost my job and was pretty much just drifting around aimlessly for a while before figuring I probably should use my time for something more productive…

"Saw no harm in shopping around trying to find work. Anything was better than just lying around at home doing nothing.

"Got a couple of interviews. Went nowhere. Friend who worked at Hierarch Industries told me there was an opening. Thought I might as well give it a shot even though I was severely underqualified…

"Somehow managed to con my way into an interview. Did really well, allegedly—"

Randall chuckled. Chances were, Dylan had charmed the interviewer. He had a certain charisma, a magnetism that made Randall want to spend more time with him. He could imagine Dylan had a similar effect on others.

"I got the job. Did pretty well after training, if I might say so myself. Then, a few weeks later, I got the chance to transfer to the St. Louis branch office and here I am," said Dylan.

"Nice," said Randall. Were it anyone else, he might have been envious of the good fortune but it was Dylan. He couldn’t bring himself to think ill of the guy short of getting decked in the face.

"What have you been up to, Randy?" said Dylan.

Again, the sound of his name on Dylan’s lips made Randall shiver. "Nothing, really," he said. Since the break-up, his life had been pretty monotonous. Wake up. Shower. Eat. Go to work. Get home. Eat. Shower. Go to bed. Dull, meaningless routine.

"Wallowing in the break-up blues?" said Dylan.

Randall rested his head on his arms and nodded. "Yeah."

Dylan patted Randall on the shoulder. "Now, that just won’t do, bro! Life’s good, even if you can’t see it right now! I mean, just think about it… We thought we’d never meet again and yet, here we are!"

Randall chuckled. "I guess that’s something," he said, cheeks warming. He was truly glad that he’d met Dylan again. Even if it didn’t go anywhere, he was looking forward to having the guy in his life.

"Right! And if this isn’t a sign that I’m supposed to pull you out of your depression, bro, I don’t know what is!" said Dylan, with a broad, adorable grin.

"I don’t know, Dyl," said Randall, flushing even redder. He liked it. The nickname. He liked hearing it. Liked saying it. "You might be biting off more than you can chew."

"Well, can’t know until I try, right, Randy?" said Dylan.

Randall buried his face in his arms. His cheeks were just about ready to burst into flames and he could feel the heat spreading to the tips of his ears. "I guess," he said, in a muffled voice.

"So, what do you say we get out of here and have some fun?" said Dylan.

Randall shivered. Dylan was leaning over him. He could feel Dylan’s hot breath on the back of his neck, making his skin tingle.

Tingling skin wasn’t the end of it, though. The implication of Dylan’s words made heat pool at the bottom of Randall’s stomach. He was getting hard. Painfully so. "Where would we go?" he mumbled.

Dylan chuckled. "My place is nearby if you don’t mind that."

"I don’t!" Randall blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Great!" said Dylan. "Now slide that cute little ass off that barstool, pay the good man, and let’s head out."

Cute. Little. Ass. Randall was going to die of embarrassment before the night was over. That, or oxygen deprivation because all of his blood had rushed to his cock.

Mumbling something unintelligible, Randall waved the bartender down. He passed over a fifty despite having had only two beers all night and waved off the bartender’s protests about it being too much.

Had he had any say in the matter, Randall would have hurried out of the bar and waited outside while Dylan caught up just to hide the massive erection pressed up against the fabric of his pants. Unfortunately for him, before he could make for the exit, Dylan slung an arm around his shoulders.

"So," said Dylan. "What’s your idea of a fun night?"

"I, uh…" The question gave Randall pause. What was his idea of a fun night? It had been such a long time since last he had one of those that he could scarcely recall.

It wasn’t just the break-up, either. While Randall had appreciated the nights he spent with Hannah, he hadn’t realized, until now, that he hadn’t really gotten to do anything he liked for the duration of their relationship.

Randall deflated. "I dunno," he said.

"Aw," said Dylan, as they burst out through the bar’s front doors. "Sounds like someone was fucking whipped."

Randall flushed. He had nothing to say to that. He had let Hannah have an awful deal of control over the things he did. He’d let her get away with it because he thought he was helping. She reported terrible anxiety whenever things deviated from her established norms.

Now, Randall realized that he might have been wrong for doing so. He didn’t think Hannah was controlling, per se, and didn’t think that she had deliberately manipulated him into doing as she said but he did think he may have inadvertently enabled bad behavior instead of encouraging her to get help.

Dylan shook Randall by the shoulders. "Don’t worry, bro! We’ll find something to do. Do you like video games?"

Randall nodded. He did. He’d stopped playing as much due to work and, well, Hannah, but he did miss playing video games.

Part of Randall was disappointed that Dylan was talking about having good old-fashioned actual fun instead of the raunchier things he’d fantasized about in the past but at the same time, he was glad for it. It was a chance to get to know Dylan better.

"I have to warn you, bro, I’m pretty good," said Dylan, patting the top of Randall’s chest with the hand dangling over his shoulder. "Don’t worry, though. I don’t want you to get more depressed so I’ll make sure to take it easy on you."

"Oh really?" said Randall, playfully shoving against Dylan. This was good. This was nice. This was comfortable. Just two bros having fun. Ribbing each other.

If the rest of the night was just this, Randall didn’t think he would mind. It meant he wouldn’t have to deal with the complicated feelings tying his stomach into knots. It meant he’d just get to enjoy the time with Dylan.

"Yeah, man. I don’t like to bully lesser-skilled players so…" said Dylan.

"Oh, it’s fucking on! Those are some fighting words!" said Randall. "We’ll see who’s the ‘lesser-skilled player’ Dyl. Don’t come crying when I wipe the floor with your sorry ass."

"Oh yeah? I was going to let you win because you’ve been down in the dumps lately but if you’re gonna be that way… Well, don’t complain when I pound your ass," said Dylan.

Randall nearly tripped over his own feet. Phrasing. He dearly wished Dylan had put that another way because the erection that had only just subsided returned full-force.

"S-sure," Randall stammered. "W-what are you thinking of playing, anyway?" he said, looking up at Dylan.

"Tennis," said Dylan.

"What?" said Randall, blinking.

"Tennis," Dylan repeated as if what he’d just said wasn’t the most absurd thing in the world.

"WHAT?!"


Randall collapsed onto Dylan’s couch. When Dylan had proposed a night of video games, he’d thought that it would be a relatively chill affair. Sure, the conversation they had outside the bar had shown that they were competitive people but he’d imagined that it would result in some jostling, at the worst.

This was beyond any of Randall’s expectations. His button-up shirt was drenched with sweat. His chest was heaving. His arms were numb. He didn’t think he could feel his legs. He felt as if he were genuinely on the brink of death.

"I thought…" Randall gasped. "I thought we were going to play something like a shooter… Or a fighting game… Fuck me, Dyl… Oh my God… I didn’t expect a fucking workout…"

The strength Randall thought had wholly deserted him returned full-force when Dylan crashed into the couch, making it tilt backward. He sat up in a panic, heart racing. Fortunately, it didn’t go all the way to tipping over.

The couch landed upright with a muffled thump. Hesitantly, Randall sank back down and turned his head toward Dylan.

"You had fun, though," said Dylan, grinning practically from ear to ear.

Randall’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t noticed earlier because he was too focused trying and failing to win the game but now that he had a moment to breathe he could take it in, in all its glory.

Dylan was hot. Without a doubt. He looked even hotter flushed from exertion, his cheeks tinged with the prettiest shade of pink Randall had ever seen. His sweat-drenched shirt clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination. His thick, muscular chest heaved as he caught his breath.

As he was staring at Dylan, it wasn’t just Randall’s eyes wandering. His thoughts roamed, too. Idly, he wondered whether this was how Dylan would look after a marathon of sex.

As soon as he realized what he had been thinking, Randall choked on his spit. He hacked and coughed, thumping his chest as Dylan looked at him with concern. "You okay, Randy?" he said.

"Y-yeah," Randall stammered through watery eyes. "Just, uh… Just choked on my spit…" he said.

"Okay," said Dylan. He seemed unconvinced but he pulled back, placing the hand with which he’d reached for Randall back on his lap. "If you say so."

Randall nodded. "Yeah," he said, when he was finally able to breathe properly again. "I’m—I’m fine. And I really did have fun, tonight…"

"You did?" said Dylan.

"Yeah," said Randall, casting a furtive glance in Dylan’s direction.

Dylan was sitting facing Randall. He had one leg folded under him while the other hung off the edge of the couch seat. He had one arm draped over the backrest of the couch, cheek resting on the knuckles of his hand.

Randall didn’t know how to deal with the intimacy of the moment. He couldn’t even look Dylan in the eye because the way they shimmered with life made him feel all warm and tingly on the inside.

"I’m glad," said Dylan.

Randall’s breath hitched in his throat when Dylan shifted closer. They were so close together he could feel the heat radiating off Dylan’s skin.

Dylan’s arm was slung over the backrest of the couch. His leg was almost touching Randall’s. Though he’d forced his gaze forward. Randall could tell that Dylan was staring at him. He could feel those bright green eyes boring into the side of his face.

Randall squirmed. He couldn’t take it. His cock was already plumping up with just the proximity. "Gross, man! Get off me! You’re all sticky!" he said, managing to sound casual enough to hide the anxiety he felt.

Dylan chuckled. "Aw. You’re one to talk, bro." He reached up with his free hand and popped the top button on Randall’s shirt open.

"W-what are you doing?" Randall stammered.

"I’m sorry I made you sweat so much, bro," said Dylan. His voice was low. Tender. "It’s probably super uncomfortable wearing such a wet button-up…"

Randall licked his lips. "I-I’m fine," he said. This was dangerous.

"I have an old shirt you can borrow…" said Dylan, fingers moving down to the second button from the top.

Despite his reservations, Randall didn’t resist. He could have told Dylan to stop but he didn’t. He didn’t want to. "S-seriously. I-I’m okay. Y-you don’t h-have to…" he mumbled.

"Fuck," Dylan growled, sending a shiver up Randall’s spine. "Randy, I—"

Shit.

Randall fought back a moan as Dylan stuck his face in the crook of his neck. "D-Dyl, w-wait…" he protested, half-heartedly.

A gasp escaped Randall as Dylan’s fingers brushed over his stomach. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck as Dylan sniffed him.

Dylan’s hand settled on Randall’s thigh for support as he leaned in. "You smell so fucking good, Randy…" he said, in a low gravelly voice that made Randy’s blood hot.

Randall was powerless. He was rock hard. Dylan’s fingers were less than two inches down his inner thigh from the outline of his erection. "D-Dyl what are you doing? I-I’m a guy…"

"I know," Dylan breathed against the sensitive skin of Randall’s neck. "I don’t care."

"But—" Randall started.

Dylan pulled away. Mercifully, he removed his hand from Randall’s thigh. "Do you?" he asked. The playfulness that had been in his voice earlier was gone. His expression was serious. His bright green eyes were focused and expectant.

Randall swallowed. His Adam’s apple twitched. "N-no…" he admitted.

"Good," said Dylan. He grasped Randall’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and leaned in.

Randall closed his eyes.

Their lips met and it was like the rest of the world around Randall fell away. Fireworks went off in his head. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His cock throbbed in his pants and it was as if every nerve in his body was on fire.

At first, Dylan was doing all the work but with every heartbeat that passed, Randall kissed back with more and more enthusiasm. He moaned into Dylan’s mouth just before they pulled apart for breath.

Randall opened his eyes. A glistening strand of spit connected their lower lips. Dylan’s eyes were glazed and unfocused. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"We should do that again," said Dylan, grinning.

Randall licked his lips. Fuck it. He grabbed Dylan’s face. "Y-yeah," he said, pulling Dylan in for another kiss.

As they made out, the heat that had bloomed in Randall’s chest spread through his body. He felt like he was burning up from the inside but in a good way. He couldn’t help but moan into Dylan’s mouth.

Slowly, Randall slid down the backrest of the couch and onto the cushions. Dylan crawled on top of him, legs sliding between his, pinning him to the seat with his weight.

"Fuck," Randall breathed. The heady, masculine scent of Dylan had just hit him. There was a strange undertone—a faint, almost-imperceptible minty aroma that, for some reason, made his nerves sing.

Dylan cupped the side of Randall’s face, sliding up and around his head to thread his fingers through his hair. Randall would have happily stayed that way forever.

It was Dylan who broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against Randall’s, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They stared into each other’s eyes, a glint of mischief in Dylan’s. "Fuck, bro. That face you’re making… I fucking love it."

Randall’s cheeks burned. He didn’t know what face he was making but he could imagine it. "Y-you, too," he stammered, arousal coiling in his stomach at the sight of Dylan’s flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Their lips met again and it was no less intense than the first time. When they broke apart, Randall tipped his head back. Dylan pressed kisses along the curve of his neck.

Their hips ground together. Randall could feel Dylan’s erection pressing against his and couldn’t help but moan. "I love the little sounds you make, Randy…" Dylan murmured, nipping at the sensitive skin just above Randall’s collarbone.

"F-fuck, Dyl," Randall moaned. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He was so hard he felt he was going to explode and they hadn’t really done anything other than grind against one another and make out.

"That’s what I’m hoping to do to you, tonight," Dylan growled, his teeth grazing the skin of Randall’s neck. "What do you say? Want to take this further?"

Randall had hoped they could build a solid foundation of friendship first before anything happened between them—if anything happened. It was too late, now.

Oh well. There was nothing Randall could do about it. Nothing he wanted to do about it, anyhow. Besides, his life philosophy had always been about taking things in stride. There was no reason to change it, now.

"Alright," Randall whispered. "I-I want you, Dyl…"

"I want you too, bro," said Dylan, pressing a kiss to the base of Randall’s jaw. He moved quickly, fingers unbuttoning Randall’s shirt before the latter could react.

Randall sucked in a sharp breath as Dylan flung his button-up shirt open. Dylan’s strong fingers dug into the flesh of his stomach and curled around his sides, sliding down to his hips. The only thing he could think of was how much he wanted Dylan to take him right then and there.

"Ever done it with a man before?" said Dylan, after yet another sizzling kiss.

Randall shook his head. "N-no. I-I never even thought about being with a man before I met you," he said.

"Me too," said Dylan, leaning down to nibble on the skin just behind Randall’s ear. "I’m glad you chose me to be your first."

Randall chuckled, though he couldn’t help but shiver as the tip of Dylan’s tongue traced a small circle around the spot he’d been nipping at. "You say that like I’m some kind of virgin," he said.

Dylan leaned in to kiss Randall and took his breath away. "Girls don’t count, so you might as well be," he said, as he pulled away.

"Why not?" said Randall, looking into Dylan’s bright green eyes.

The corner of Dylan’s mouth curled into a small, adorably-lopsided smirk. "You telling me you’ve been pegged before, bro?" he said.

Randall blushed. "N-no!" he said.

Dylan grinned and pressed a kiss to the side of Randall’s face. "Virgin," he said. "I can’t wait to pop your cherry."

Randall’s cheeks reddened even more. "W-what makes you think you’ll be the one on top?" he stammered.

"Well?" said Dylan. He sat up, Randall’s arms falling away from his shoulders as he straightened. He stayed between Randall’s legs, knees folded under him, ass resting on his feet. His hands remained on Randall’s hips. "Go on, then. Get on top."

Randall averted his gaze. "Dumb jock," he complained, under his breath. He pushed himself up with one arm only to hook the other around Dylan’s neck. "Come back down here," he said.

"That’s what I thought," said Dylan, with a low chuckle that sent shivers up and down Randall’s spine.

"Fuck you," said Randall, the tips of his ears just about ready to burst into flames.

"No, bro," said Dylan. "I’ll fuck you."

The stupid, shit-eating grin that split Dylan’s face was somehow less mocking and more adorable. Randall couldn’t resist for long and pulled him down for a kiss. "Y-you better take it slow," he said.

"Oh, baby," said Dylan. "Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you."

Shit. Randall flushed. Those words. That tone. His cock strained in his pants. He never imagined he’d be on the other side of this equation, much less like it as much as he discovered he did.

Dylan unbuttoned Randall’s pants and slid them off his legs, tossing them unceremoniously aside. They landed on the coffee table, draping almost perfectly across the glass.

The front of Randall’s light blue boxer briefs was obscenely tented with his hardness. A dark wet spot marked the tip of his raging erection and it grew bigger with every moment that passed.

Randall’s legs trembled as Dylan rubbed his hole through the fabric of his underwear. It felt good. He wanted more.

"I’ll make sure to loosen you up nice and gentle, bro. gonna get that this tight ring with my fingers and tongue until it’s winking at me," said Dylan. He leaned down and nibbled on the lobe of Randall’s ear, eliciting a low moan.

Randall’s hole fluttered. He flushed with embarrassment at the sound that slipped out of him and with arousal at the promise of pleasure in Dylan’s sordid words.

Dylan’s voice dropped a register and took on a husky, gravelly timbre. "And when you’re nice and wet and open for me, I’ll break your eager little asshole in with my fat cock."

"D-Dyl!" Randall gasped. Dylan’s words were stoking a fire inside of him. He couldn’t take it. Not for much longer.

"Oh yeah, bro," said Dylan. Randall could practically hear the grin in his voice. "I’ll make slow, tender love to you until you come apart at the seams…"

Randall’s face burned. Every breath was hot in his lungs. The air was thick with the scent of musk and arousal and he felt like he was drowning in it.

In a voice so quiet Randall almost failed to hear it over the thundering of his blood in his ears, Dylan continued his verbal teasing. "And then, when you’re begging for me, I’ll destroy your tight little asspussy just like I destroyed you in tennis."

Randall moaned. Dylan was too much. One more word and he might not even last to the fucking part. He was so close already and the head of his cock was rubbing against the inside of his boxer-briefs as Dylan played with his hole through them.

Dylan grabbed fistfuls of Randall’s underwear. He whipped them off Randall’s legs and tossed them aside, even further than Randall’s pants. The light blue pair landed on the tv, draping across the top.

"A-aren’t you a bit overdressed?" Randall stammered, having realized that while he was naked, Dylan was still fully-dressed. Not that he minded, in particular. The way Dylan’s sweat-soaked shirt clung to the outlines of his muscles was quite hot, to begin with.

"You’re right," said Dylan. He sat up. He crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Slowly, rolling his hips as he did so to give Randall a show, he peeled the sweat-soaked fabric off his hard, muscular torso.

Dylan’s skin glistened with a sheen of sweat in the light. Randall couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. His hands seemed to move of their own accord. He palmed Dylan’s thick, firm chest muscles, rubbing his hands all over them and tweaking the hard nubs of Dylan’s nipples with the thumb and index finger of each hand.

Randall’s hands wandered lower. His fingers brushed across the hard washboard of Dylan’s stomach. He shivered as he explored the firm musculature. His own stomach was flat. Softer. He liked to work out, but not as much as Dylan, clearly.

Licking his lips, Randall brushed his thumbs over the V-lines of Dylan’s torso. They drew the eye down, straight to the sizable package in his pants. Randall’s cock drooled at the sight. It bobbed up and down, leaking a clear string of pre-cum from the tip.

Randall’s hands lingered for a moment at Dylan’s hips before he slid his right down to the outline of Dylan’s cock pressed up against the denim of his jeans. "Shit, man. You’re so big," he said.

"Worried?" said Dylan.

Randall’s gaze flicked up to Dylan’s face. The fucker was grinning. The cockiness was hot, though. "A little bit," he said.

It was not to say that Dylan’s size didn’t excite Randall. It did. It was just big. Intimidating. It was his first time and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Dylan by not being able to take his endowment.

"Don’t worry, bro," said Dylan, rubbing his thumb over Randall’s cheek. "It will fit. Better than that, it will feel good."

Randall blushed. Dylan’s confidence made him feel warm and gooey on the inside despite his reservations.

"I believe this piece of meat was made for you, baby," Dylan whispered, sending a thrill of pleasure through Randall’s body. "I believe it’ll fit inside you like a glove. Make you feel so good you break apart and need me to put the pieces back together again."

Dylan grabbed Randall by the wrists. He leaned forward, pinning Randall’s hands above his head. Using his weight he folded Randall nearly in half, humping the big outline of his cock into Randall’s naked ass.

Randall’s mind went blank as Dylan’s lips crashed into his. Dylan’s cock pressed against his ass. His back arched off the bed. A muffled moan escaped him as Dylan pushed his arousal to new heights.

"Not here, though," said Dylan, pulling away with a sultry look in his bright green eyes. "I don’t want our first time to be on a fucking couch."

If he was being honest, Randall wouldn’t have minded. Sure, it wasn’t the most glamorous or romantic thing to have the first fuck of a relationship on top of a couch but there were worse places to do it.

Had Dylan showed Randall the same interest he was showing now, Randall wasn’t sure they would have made it back to Dylan’s place, to begin with. They might have had their first time in a seedy bathroom or in down an alley somewhere.

Randall didn’t care. All he wanted was Dylan’s cock inside of him. Still, he was glad Dylan was being so thoughtful. It made him feel warm. With genuine affection—not just the arousal that was burning in his veins.

There wasn’t a single shred of resistance in Randall as Dylan picked him up off the couch in a bridal carry. He leaned his head against Dylan’s chest. It was a bit strange to be the one in this position but, if he was being honest, he rather liked it.

Dylan’s strength was no joke. Randall wasn’t a light man and yet Dylan managed to support him with seemingly little effort. He’d never been so manhandled before. He kind of liked it.

The door to Dylan’s bedroom bounced off the doorstop as he kicked it open. He blocked it from hitting Randall with his shoulder. The smack of wood on skin made Randall wince but Dylan didn’t seem the least bit affected.

"You gonna throw me into bed, Dyl?" said Randall, as they crossed the threshold into the room. Dylan’s strength excited him, strangely enough. He wanted to see more of it.

"Want me to, bro?" said Dylan, with a grin.

Randall blushed. "Maybe just a little," he muttered.

"Then sure!" said Dylan. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of Randall’s face. "I’ll give you anything you ask for."

"Then please—" Randall started. Before he’d finished talking, Dylan hefted him in his arms and tossed him clean across the room.

Randall nearly screamed as he sailed through the air. The brief sensation of weightlessness was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Landing on top of the bed knocked the wind out of him and the mattress springs creaked as he bounced once more off the sheets before landing for good.

"Fuck, man," Randall said, under his breath. His face was flushed. His cock was hard. He’d expected Dylan to carry him next to the bed and toss him down from there, not from across the room. Regardless, he appreciated it all the same.

Randall shuffled aside to make space as Dylan clambered onto the bed. He crawled on top of Randall, the mattress sinking under his hands and knees as he leaned down for a kiss.

While Randall was distracted by the kiss, Dylan wrapped his arms around Randall’s waist and held on tight. As they parted, Dylan rolled over onto his back, taking Randall with him to reverse their positions.

Randall was now the one on top, legs straddling Dylan’s. The weight of Dylan’s arms around his waist kept him firmly in place but he didn’t mind. The incredible skin contact, his torso against Dylan’s, made his whole body tingle.

"There," said Dylan, with a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Didn’t you want to be the one on top?"

"Jesus," Randall breathed as Dylan’s arms unwound from around his waist. "What were they feeding you up in Minneapolis that you’re this fucking strong?"

"I don’t know," said Dylan, with a chuckle. He placed his hands lightly on Randall’s hips. "There might have been something in the water."

"Maybe," said Randall. He might have said something else but a hard, insistent heat against the inside of his thigh distracted him.

Pushing himself up off the bed a little, Randall glanced at the space between his and Dylan’s bodies. Dylan was in his underwear: a pair of classy black briefs strained near to breaking by his monster of a cock.

Randall’s mouth and throat went dry. "When did you…" he said.

"Before I got in bed with you, baby," said Dylan, with a grin.

Randall hadn’t even noticed. Dylan’s jeans were by the door, ostensibly kicked aside as Dylan clambered on top of him.

"Should I help you out of them?" said Randall. He flushed a deep red as soon as the words slipped from his lips. He hadn’t meant to sound so eager for cock.

Dylan smirked. "Nah, bro," he said. "You don’t want to let the beast out to play before you’re ready to take him."

Randall flushed. It might have been a corny thing to say but it made him horny. The implication that Dylan might lose control if he got ahead of himself was strangely tempting. His fingers itched to do it, to poke the "beast," but he decided against it.

"What do you want me to do then?" said Randall. This was an unfamiliar position and he was a little lost.

"Turn around and sit on my face, baby," said Dylan. A toothy grin split his face nearly from ear to ear. "I’m gonna make you nice and wet with my tongue."

Randall shivered. It felt weird to be talked to like this but it wasn’t unpleasant. He used to be the one with all the lines but, at the moment, the only thing he could think to do was meekly obey.

Licking his lips, Randall did as he was told. He turned around and backed up on top of Dylan until his ass was hovering just above Dylan’s face. He could feel Dylan’s hot breath wafting in the cleft of his ass, making his hole twitch and quiver in anticipation.

An indelicate squeak escaped Randall as Dylan’s hands clamped down on his hips and pulled him down. Soon thereafter the only sound he could manage was a delirious moan as Dylan’s tongue traced a hot, wet stripe up along the crack of his ass.

Randall’s back arched as the tip of Dylan’s tongue toyed with his pucker. It swirled around and around his entrance, making his hole twitch and quiver. The sensation was unlike anything he’d felt before.

Dylan was skilled with his tongue. That much was certain. As he flicked the tip back and forth over Randall’s hole, he elicited low, desperate noises that tumbled uncontrollably out of Randall’s mouth.

Randall had been so secure in his sexuality, so sure that he was straight that he’d never even thought to experiment. None of his partners had ever brought it up, either. If he had known it could feel this way, he would have explored it much, much earlier.

Dylan stabbed his tongue into the center of Randall’s quivering pucker. It poked inside. Randall groaned. In and out. In and out. Sloppy slurping sounds accompanied every thrust of Dylan’s tongue and even had he not wanted it, Randall was sure his ass would have opened up for Dylan regardless.

It was strange but not unpleasant. Far from it. The sensation of Dylan’s tongue wriggling around inside of him was enough to drive Randall up the wall.

"F-fuck, Dyl, please!" Randall groaned. He itched on the inside. Dylan’s tongue was wonderful but he needed more. As much as he loved the wet, slurping sounds of Dylan’s tongue on his hole it wasn’t enough to scratch the itch inside of him.

Randall bucked his hips. It was weird. He wasn’t used to this and yet it came so naturally to him. He fucked his ass on Dylan’s tongue and moaned as it swirled around on the inside of his rim.

"So eager, bro," Dylan chuckled.

Randall couldn’t help but whine as Dylan’s tongue slid out of him. It hadn’t been enough to satiate him but it had felt so good and so right he couldn’t help but be disappointed when Dylan stopped eating him out.

Intellectually, Randall knew that it meant he was going to get the "more" that he needed but his body didn’t know that. His hole twitched and clenched, already missing the sensation of Dylan’s tongue inside him.

Dylan palmed Randall’s ass cheeks. Randall leaned forward on his elbows and gasped, back arching as Dylan rubbed and kneaded the meaty globes.

Randall’s legs shook as Dylan peeled his ass cheeks apart, exposing his trembling asshole to the cool air. "Don’t worry, bro. I’ll make sure you get what you need. It looks like your hole’s nice and ready for me, now."

After he heard the sound of a cap being opened, Randall leaned up and looked over his shoulder. He was just in time to see Dylan squeeze a dollop of lube out of a tube onto his back.

Randall flinched as the cool gel dribbled onto his lower back. Dylan put the tube away and guided the glob of lube down the cleft of Randall’s ass. It felt so weird, especially as the lube had yet to warm up to body temperature.

"Oh, fuck!" Randall mewled as the lube dripped onto his quivering hole. He’d scarcely had a moment to recover when he felt Dylan’s finger prodding at his entrance.

The gentle pressure of Dylan’s finger was enough. The tip slipped into Randall, pushing cold lube inside of him. He hissed, clutching the sheets as Dylan kept it up, pulling his finger out to push more lube in.

"Fuck, bro," Dylan whispered. There was a hint of wonder in his voice. "Your hole’s sucking my finger in."

All Randall could do was whine as Dylan’s finger sank inside him to the knuckle. It wasn’t as bad as he expected. It felt weird but not in an unpleasant way. He just wasn’t used to having anything up his ass.

Randall mewled as Dylan inserted a second finger alongside the first one. There was some pain. Nothing too bad. It just burned a little as he stretched around the two digits slowly plunging in and out of his hole.

The thing was, Randall didn’t want to be the passive, completely receptive partner. He was fine with getting fucked. He wasn’t fine with just lying there while Dylan pleasured him and doing nothing to make Dylan feel good in return.

Randall licked his lips. Positioned as he was, his face was right above Dylan’s cock. It jutted out, tenting the sleek black briefs obscenely right in front of him.

Dylan might have warned Randall about letting the beast out too early but he didn’t say anything about playing with it while it was still in its figurative cage. The more he thought about it, the more excited Randall got. His mouth watered as he watched the bulge throb with Dylan’s heartbeat.

Leaning down, Randall rubbed his face right against the outline of Dylan’s erection. Despite the layer of fabric between his cheek and Dylan’s cock, he could feel the heat of Dylan’s meat against his skin.

Randall groaned. From where he lay, Dylan’s masculine musk was already overpowering and there was still a layer of cloth to contain it. He took a deep breath in, moaning as the intoxicating, slightly-minty scent filled his lungs.

Though Dylan’s scent was incredibly arousing, making Randall’s cock twitch and throb and leak, there was also something strangely warm and comforting about it. The more Randall breathed in the thick and heady musk, the more his body seemed to relax.

All the tension in Randall’s muscles melted away. He collapsed on top of Dylan with a delirious sigh and moaned as he pinned his cock against Dylan’s chest with his weight.

Any resistance Randall’s hole was putting up to Dylan’s two fingers was fading, too. He’d never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of a finger-banging but it felt so good he had nothing to complain about. It felt right.

Randall’s back arched and his fingers tangled in the sheets. Not only was Dylan fucking his hole with his fingers now, but he was also moving his fingers apart and back together like a pair of scissors, stretching Randall out even more.

There was some pain, but nothing Randall couldn’t deal with. If anything, it lent a peculiar edge to the pleasure, making it all the more intense.

As Randall slowly got used to Dylan’s ministrations, as he loosened around Dylan’s fingers, he turned his attention back to the thick piece of meat so tantalizingly, mouth-wateringly close to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the side of it, through the smooth fabric of Dylan’s briefs, and felt it twitch against his lips.

"Fuck, bro," said Dylan. "Don’t tempt me."

Randall took it as a sign that he was doing good. He mouthed at the head, moaning at the saltiness that hit his tongue as he licked the large wet spot at the tip of Dylan’s cock.

"How’s it taste, bro?" said Dylan. Randall could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Randall moaned. "So good," he said. The words had tumbled out of him before he could even think about it.

Grabbing the base of Dylan’s thick cock through the sleek black briefs, Randall worked his mouth up and down the length of its outline in the fabric. His enthusiasm surprised him.

Randall had never imagined another man’s cock would make him feel this way and yet here he was. He moaned again as he mouthed at the outline of Dylan’s, still somewhat in disbelief at how much bigger it was than his.

Despite the clear difference in size, Dylan’s endowment didn’t make Randall feel any less of a man. Instead, it made him feel a strange hunger in the pit of his stomach. Made him salivate as he mouthed at it through the soft cotton of Dylan’s briefs.

Randall didn’t feel any of the old insecurity he felt whenever he saw guys with bigger dicks than his. The only thing he could feel, the only thing he could think of, was a nigh-overwhelming desire to play with Dylan’s cock unrestrained.

A quiet grunt escaped Randall as Dylan inserted a third finger in his ass. The slight burning sensation from earlier returned fiercely but he bore it through gritted teeth.

Dylan applied another glob of lube to ease the passage of the third finger into Randall. It elicited a hiss from Randall as the cold gel dripped onto his stretched-out hole, and then a moan after that when Dylan pushed three fingers inside and twisted them.

Randall redoubled his efforts, soaking the fabric of Dylan’s briefs with his spit as he tongued at the outline of Dylan’s cock. He moaned and grunted, rolling his hips as Dylan finger-fucked his virgin hole open.

Little by little, Randall could feel his ring stretching out around the three fingers. It was like Dylan could read him like an open book. As soon as he was accustomed to the three fingers, Dylan started moving them apart to stretch him out even more.

Randall hissed, burying his face right against the side of Dylan’s cock as the pain made his thighs tremble. Even so, it felt good, too. He would have asked Dylan to stop, otherwise. Little by little, he got used to it. Gradually, the burning stretch faded until all that was left was the pleasure.

Moaning, back arching, Randall nearly on Dylan’s firm pecs as Dylan’s fingers curled inside of him. It was the first time anyone had ever touched his prostate. It was indescribable. He’d always heard that it felt good, but he had never imagined it would feel this good.

Every time Dylan’s fingers rubbed over that small, sensitive button inside of him, Randall’s vision would go white. His mind would go blank. For a moment—just a moment—he felt his whole world dissolve into exquisite pleasure.

The stretching lasted a few minutes more. By the time it was done, Randall’s pre-cum had pooled in the crevice between Dylan’s thick pectorals and his hole was nice and stretchy, giving no resistance to Dylan’s fingers plunging in and out of him.

"Fuck, bro," Dylan growled. "I can’t take it anymore. Get up. Let’s change positions."

Randall did as he was told without a second thought. He rolled off as Dylan sat up into a half-reclined position with his back leaning against the headboard, his legs wide apart, and his feet planted on the bed.

"Come here," said Dylan, patting the space on the bed between his legs. Randall did as he was told. He crawled between Dylan’s legs. He wrapped his arms around Dylan’s thighs and shuffled forward until his face was buried, once again, in Dylan’s crotch.

"Damn, baby. You look so good down there," Dylan murmured, reaching down and threading his fingers through Randall’s hair.

Randall, who’d been nuzzling against the outline of Dylan’s cock, raised his head to say something smart in response. The hand on the back of his head pushed him back down before he could say anything.

"Take it off," said Dylan.

It was a single command, said simply, and yet it filled Randall with equal parts excitement and trepidation. He licked his lips as Dylan released him from his grip. He got up on his knees, unwinding his arms from Dylan’s legs.

"Go on," said Dylan. His voice was low. Gravelly. It made Randall shiver. There was a strange, almost-predatory character to his voice that made Randall’s cock throb.

Randall swallowed audibly. He grabbed the waistband of Dylan’s briefs and pulled. It briefly caught on the head of Dylan’s cock. He pulled harder until he overcame the resistance and the waistband slipped off Dylan’s erection.

There was a wet thwap as Dylan’s thick, hard cock sprang free of the briefs. It flung a clear strand of pre-cum through the air which struck Randall on the cheek.

Randall couldn’t help but gawk at it. Free, now, of the confines of Dylan’s clothing, it looked even bigger than he had imagined it to be. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe he’d underestimated its size. It didn’t matter. It looked all the more intimidating now that he could look at it in its full, bare glory.

The beautiful cock bobbing in front of his face wasn’t the only thing that caught Randall’s attention. Dylan’s musk was thicker in the air, too. After the workout they’d just had playing tennis, it was no wonder.

It seemed as if the entire room was suffused with Dylan’s thick, masculine scent. It was intoxicating. Randall couldn’t get enough. It filled his lungs with every breath he took, to the point that he felt he might well drown in it.

Randall happily would have, too. There were worse ways to die than by suffocation by musk. At least, he thought so, anyway.

Head spinning from the heady, intoxicating aroma of Dylan’s manhood, Randall slid the briefs down Dylan’s legs as far as he could. Dylan did the rest on his own, pulling out of his briefs one leg at a time until Randall was left holding them by the waistband.

Acting purely on instinct, Randall clutched the briefs in his hands. He raised them to his nose. He took a whiff couldn’t help but moan, stuffing his face into the crumpled-up undies. Dylan’s scent had permeated the fabric thoroughly.

"Fuck, bro. That’s fucking hot!" Dylan breathed.

Randall turned the underwear clutched tightly in his hands away as Dylan reached for him. Regardless, Dylan persisted. He grabbed the briefs and with a sharp tug, deprived Randall of them.

A quiet whine bubbled up out of Randall’s throat as the fabric slipped from his fingers. Dylan’s strength was many times greater than his own—that much had become apparent.

"There’s time enough for that later, baby," said Dylan, tossing the briefs aside. Randall’s eyes traced the path they took as they arced through the air and landed on the floor halfway between the bed and a nearby drawer.

Randall sighed and turned back to Dylan. "What was for?" he said, unable to help but pout a little. It felt weird to feel so bitter about getting a pair of undies ripped from his grasp but it was his truth.

"You were distracted, bro. I just got rid of the distraction," said Dylan. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He grinned widely. "Besides, baby, man-musk is better straight from the source."

Before Randall could properly react, Dylan leaned up and grabbed him by the back of the neck. As Dylan returned to his reclining position, he pulled Randall down into the space between his legs.

Randall moaned as his nose was buried in the wiry hairs of Dylan’s sparse bush. Dylan’s scent was even stronger here. Musky. Earthy. Manly. The strange undercurrent of mint was still there, no stronger than before and yet somehow, at the same time, oddly sharper.

Acting on instincts he never knew he had, Randall rubbed his face all over Dylan’s sweaty crotch. "Fuck," he said, under his breath. He wanted Dylan’s scent all over him. He wanted it to cover every inch of his body if it could.

Dylan’s cock came to a rest against Randall’s cheek, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum onto his face. It throbbed and pulsed with Dylan’s heartbeat. It was hot, too. Warm and full of virility.

The longer Randall was in contact with Dylan’s cock, the more he was filled with the desire to play with it. The scent was intoxicating, the proximity, maddening. He’d never had the pleasure of knowing such a beautiful cock in his life.

As much as Randall enjoyed his own endowment, he was afraid it didn’t hold a candle to Dylan’s. And that was okay.

Dylan’s cock was big. So big. To say nothing of the fact the mere sight of it made Randall’s mouth water.

Randall wrapped his fingers around the shaft of Dylan’s hardness. It throbbed in his grasp, pulsing to the rhythm of Dylan’s heartbeat. He swallowed audibly, throat and mouth suddenly dry as he pressed his face against it.

"Fuck, Dyl, I—" Randall moaned. He couldn’t help but lick his lips, looking up into Dylan’s bright green eyes.

"No need to ask permission, bro," Dylan groaned. He caressed the side of Randall’s face. It was such an intimate gesture but, considering the circumstances, it also felt strangely vulgar. "Chow down, baby. I know you want it!"

Randall dove onto Dylan’s cock like a starving man. He was practically drooling as the blunt head pushed past his lips. He’d opened his mouth as wide as he could and still could only just fit Dylan inside.

A long, low moan escaped Randall as he was treated to his first taste of Dylan’s exquisite cock. It defied description. The smear of pre-cum on his tongue was salty-sweet, yes, but there was something else about the flavor of it, something transcendental that made Randall feel strangely whole.

Hearing the low groan that issued from Dylan’s lips sent a frisson of pleasure through Randall’s entire body. It was the weirdest thing.

By all accounts, Randall shouldn’t have felt so good. His full attention was on Dylan’s cock. His own was little more than an afterthought. The notion of playing with himself hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Randall wasn’t pleasuring himself, and Dylan wasn’t doing anything to make him feel good either and yet he did. He felt good. He felt so good, in fact, that it was comparable to the pleasure he felt when Dylan played with his prostate.

Never, in the probably-hundreds of times Randall went down on Hannah, did he feel such a thing. Then again, all those occasions had been transactional. One good turn for another. This wasn’t.

Randall had taken Dylan into his mouth with no mind for what he was going to get out of it. Every fiber of his being wanted to suck it. It was about Dylan’s pleasure, not his.

And that was the crux of the matter. Randall moaned as the epiphany hit him, intensifying the pleasure he felt throughout his body. This exquisite sensation he felt, the utter bliss that consumed him from the act of sucking Dylan’s cock, was the sublime pleasure of submission.

A heartbeat later, the pleasure of it flooded Randall’s mind. A thick fog of lust and arousal strangled his thoughts, making it all but impossible to actually think as he struggled to fit Dylan’s endowment into his mouth.

Randall’s efforts were not without reward.

"Aw, fuck, bro!" Dylan cried out. His fingers tightened in Randall’s hair, pushing down insistently on the back of his head. "Yeah. Just like that, baby. Open that sweet throat. Gobble down that fucking cock."

The tips of Randall’s ears warmed. Something was demeaning about being told to "gobble down" a cock but, at the same time, it was strangely titillating. A thrill of pleasure traveled the length of Randall’s spine and he couldn’t help but moan.

Randall was more than willing to oblige. He took more of Dylan into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head, greedily lapping up the thick pre-cum leaking from the tip.

The taste of Dylan was so intoxicating, so addictive, that Randall could have happily nursed on the head of Dylan’s fat cock for eternity. With every glob of pre-cum he felt slide down the back of his throat, though, he knew that it was an untenable proposition. He would want more. Sooner, rather than later.

For the few minutes that he could, Randall indulged himself. He suckled on the head of Dylan’s cock, tonguing the tip to coax more of the salty-sweet nectar out of it.

The more Randall teased Dylan’s cock, though, the more his throat itched to take it deeper, and the more insistent the pressure on the back of his head became. Randall’s desire for more won out, in the end.

Randall groaned as more of Dylan’s cock slid into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out and his jaw strained just to contain the sheer size of Dylan’s endowment and yet, he had no complaints.

Taking care not to get too far ahead of himself, Randall slowly moved his mouth up and down the length of Dylan’s cock. He had only the first two or so inches inside his mouth but with every bob of his head down, he took just a little bit more than the last.

"Aw yeah, bro" Dylan groaned. He rubbed the top of Randall’s head, as one would pet a dog.

Randall should have found it insulting. Dehumanizing, even. Instead, it made him flush with arousal. It was praise—he knew it to be—and even though he’d never reacted this way to praise before, it felt so goddamn good.

Even though Dylan hadn’t said so in as many words, Randall knew, deep down, that the low, sensual groans and grunts his mouth elicited from Dylan were the highest compliments he could hope to receive for his technique. He’d never been the kind to seek out approval but damn did it feel good to know that he was doing a good job.

"Work those perfect dick-sucking lips down my cock, baby," said Dylan.

It shouldn’t have been so hot to hear those words but Randall couldn’t deny the way they made him shiver with arousal. It should have been humiliating. Denigrating. And yet it was hot as all sin.

As someone who still identified as a straight man, however tenuously, Randall should have been insulted at the implication that his lips had been made for sucking dick and yet he couldn’t quite deny it. It felt good. It felt right. Like he’d somehow spent his whole life unaware that his destiny was to be here, between Dylan’s legs, lips wrapped around a thick hunk of man meat.

Randall’s eyes widened as Dylan pushed down on the back of his head. He was unprepared, though even if he had known beforehand it would happen he still doubted he would have been able to resist Dylan’s strength.

Dylan’s cock slid deeper into Randall’s mouth. It entered with ease until the blunt head hit the back of his throat. Randall gagged, then, but the pressure of Dylan’s hand pushing down on his head didn’t let up.

Randall clawed at the bed. His eyes watered as Dylan forced him down his cock. His fingers tangled in the sheets as Dylan rubbed the side of his face with his other hand. "Breathe, baby. You can do it," said Dylan.

Right, Randall thought to himself. He wanted this. He would be damned if he let something as trivial as a gag reflex get in the way of getting Dylan all the way down.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Randall willed his body to relax. As the pressure of Dylan’s cock pushing against the back of his throat built, he gagged once or twice again but he was determined. He could feel Dylan’s slick pre-cum sliding down the back of his throat and craved more of it.

A heartbeat later, something changed. Randall didn’t know what it was, why it happened, or how, but something seemed to click in his head. He moaned as his throat opened up.

Dylan grunted. His cock slid halfway down Randall’s throat. There was no resistance, and Randall didn’t so much as blink.

Suddenly feeling the girth of Dylan’s endowment buried in his gullet, Randall couldn’t help but moan. What came out was more of a muffled gurgle.

The vibrations of Randall’s voice around Dylan’s cock made it throb. It pulsed in his throat and swelled, releasing a thick glob of pre-cum that slid straight into his stomach.

Without prompting, Randall swallowed the rest of Dylan’s cock, too. He slid his lips down the turgid length and did not stop until his nose was buried in Dylan’s bush.

With Dylan’s cock buried hilt-deep in his throat, Randall couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of achievement. He’d managed to take Dylan’s monster all the way. It was no small task, for sure. He’d never imagined he would be able to but he had done it and it felt so good.

"Ah, fuck, bro, your throat is so good around my cock," groaned Dylan. He brushed his thumb back and forth across Randall’s cheekbone. "And you look so good down there too, baby."

Randall could only imagine what he must have looked like. He’d seen girls deep-throating monster cocks in porn, before. Eyes wide and watering. Cheeks bulging. Looking like pathetic whores choking down their scene partners’ meat. There was no way Randall didn’t look like them.

Shit. Randall’s mind spun at the thought. He should have found it humiliating, to look so debased between another man’s legs, but instead, he found it sinfully hot.

Moaning yet again around Dylan’s cock, Randall started moving his head. He bobbed up and down a little, at first, and then more and more as he got used to the sensation of Dylan’s cock pumping down his throat.

It felt good. Better than Randall ever expected it could. To say nothing of how right it felt. Randall moaned and gurgled, his inhibitions unwinding with every stroke up and down Dylan’s cock.

Before long, Randall was fucking his face on Dylan’s cock with abandon. Snot dripped out of his nose. Throat slime and spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and coated Dylan’s cock with a thick, glistening layer of slick.

For all his efforts, Randall was awarded low grunts and groans from Dylan. It was the highest honor. Looking up into Dylan’s flushed face and lidded green eyes, he could tell he was doing a good job. A great job, even, if he dared say so, himself.

Dylan’s fingers tightened in Randall’s hair. The more Randall got into giving the blowjob of his life, the more Dylan took an active role. He pushed down on Randall’s head on the downstroke, grinding Randall’s nose into his crotch. He pulled on the upstroke, wrenching his cock out of Randall’s throat just to slam Randall’s head back down moments later.

As soon as the dynamic changed, Randall gave Dylan control. He didn’t even have to think twice about it. He stopped moving on his own, leaving the pace and the depth of each stroke to Dylan. He just did his best to massage the length of Dylan’s cock with his throat every time it slid down his gullet.

In and out. In and out. Faster and harder with every stroke. Randall couldn’t help but gurgle and choke and moan. He took everything Dylan had to give, especially when Dylan grabbed his head with both hands and gave him a throat-fucking that made him feel like his brain was rattling around in his skull.

By the time Dylan was finished with him, Randall had gone cross-eyed from the pummeling his throat had received. Dylan pulled out of his mouth with a gush of drool and throat slime that dribbled onto the bed.

It was messy. Filthy. Vulgar. Depraved. A hundred different words flitted through Randall’s head at the result of his first blowjob but only one mattered: hot.

Randall moaned as Dylan’s spit-slicked cock bobbed up and down in front of his face. His jaw hung slack. His tongue lolled out. In his eyes was a blissful, fucked-out look.

A blowjob had felt so good already. Randall could scarce imagine what a proper fuck would feel like.

"Fuck, bro, don’t look at me like that," Dylan growled. His grip on Randall’s head tightened. "You make me want to bash that sweet little throat of yours with my cock."

"Fuuuck, Dyl," Randall groaned. He couldn’t deny the prospect was tempting.

"Yeah? You’d like that, won’t you? Did you know there was such a hungry little cocksucker inside you the whole time?" said Dylan.

Randall bit his lower lip and whined. The effect Dylan had on him was unfair. Between his cock and his words, what hope was there for fighting back? None. None, whatsoever.

"I bet you didn’t, baby," said Dylan.

Of course, Randall didn’t know. He’d been a straight man all his life. He hadn’t even thought of a man in any remotely sexual way until he met Dylan.

Dylan grabbed Randall by the cheeks and pulled him up. He leaned down and kissed the top of Randall’s head. "I bet my cock smashed straight through all those silly notions of ‘straightness’ you had in that pretty little head of yours," he whispered, in a low voice that sent chills down Randall’s spine.

"And I bet that you want more. You want me to drill your throat. You want me to fuck your face until you feel my cock in your lungs." Dylan grinned. His teeth were bared. "Wolfish" was the only word Randall could think of to describe it.

Randall whined. He shivered at Dylan’s tone—at the predatory gleam of Dylan’s eyes. He had never imagined that mere words could feel so good.

"Fuck… Dyl…" Randall whined.

Dylan chuckled. "Turn around, baby," he said, patting the side of Randall’s face. "Time for the main event."

"Oh, fuck," Randall breathed. Energy surged through his body. His cheeks flushed at the speed with which he whipped around and presented his ass to Dylan. For someone who was supposed to be straight, he seemed awfully eager to get dicked down.

It didn’t matter. Randall didn’t care. The time for scruples had long since passed. He pressed his chest against the bed and arched his back, shivering as Dylan’s fingers brushed over his trembling ass cheeks.

"You want it, baby?" said Dylan, leaning forward to rub his cock up and down the crack of Randall’s ass.

"Mmm…" Randall hummed. "Yes. I want it. Please…"

"Yeah?" said Dylan.

"Fuck, Dyl. Please. I want your cock so badly!" Randall whined.

Randall’s legs shook as a glob of lube dripped down onto his quivering asshole from above. Shortly thereafter, the blunt head of Dylan’s cock pressed against his hole, rubbing the lube in, pushing some of it inside.

"You want me to fuck you?" said Dylan.

"Yes," Randall said, breathlessly.

A quiet squeal escaped Randall as Dylan’s hand swatted his ass cheek. "You want me to split you open with my fucking cock, bro?" said Dylan.

"Oh, God! Randall moaned.

"Fuck, baby. I love how eager you are. Your hole’s trying to suck me in," said Dylan, brushing his thumb over Randall’s hole alongside the head of his cock. "Can’t wait for me to pound your insides to mush, can you? Want me to rearrange your guts, baby?"

"Please, Dyl, just fuck me, please!" Randall whined.

Dylan chuckled. He grabbed Randall by the hips and pulled back. His cock head pushed against Randall’s hole, the pressure building, the tight ring slowly easing open.

"Fuck, bro," Dylan groaned.

Randall clawed at the mattress, his fingers tangling in the sheets as the blunt head of Dylan’s cock slowly pushed into him. His hole burned as it stretched him out and wedged him open. "F-fuck!" he gasped, through gritted teeth.

"Take my cock, baby," said Dylan, stroking Randall’s hip as he drove his cock deeper. "You can do it. Just relax. Push against me."

Randall groaned. His thoughts were scattered. The only thing he was vaguely conscious of was the intense sensation of being penetrated and the pain of his hole being stretched around Dylan’s formidable girth.

Somehow, Dylan’s words managed to reach Randall. He took a deep breath and centered himself, clinging to Dylan’s voice to keep his mind clear. He did as he was told. He breathed. He pushed.

There was a moment when the pain reached its peak and Randall felt like he was going to pass out. It stretched for what seemed like an eternity but, in reality, it had lasted only a fraction of a heartbeat.

All the stress, all the tension, all the burning pain mellowed out in an instant as the head of Dylan’s cock popped into Randall’s hole. It was as if, now that the first barrier had been pierced, the worst was over.

At that moment, Randall’s insides fluttered. His hole clenched, squeezing tight around the crown of Dylan’s cock head. He couldn’t help but moan as the sensation rippled through him, making his insides tremble.

"Ah, fuck, bro. You’re so fucking tight," Dylan groaned. His grip on Randall’s hips tightened, his fingers digging into Randall’s meat.

Randall rested his head against the mattress. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face and the top of his torso. His shoulders rose and fell with every heavy breath.

The only thing Randall could think about was the sensation of Dylan’s cock head inside of his hole. There was pain, yes, but more than that, a profound sense of wholeness. It felt good. It felt right.

Randall’s chest tightened. Tears prickled at his eyes. He didn’t know why he was getting so emotional over this but it was as if he’d suddenly discovered that he’d been missing something his whole life and now, that missing piece, was within his reach.

A long, low groan escaped Randall as Dylan pushed deeper inside. The pain of being stretched out returned, but not as bad as before. With every inch that slid into him, the more complete he felt.

"Don’t worry, baby," Dylan murmured, in a low and surprisingly tender voice. "I’m gonna work you open nice and slow. I’m gonna massage this tight little fuckhole with my big cock until your insides melt…"

Randall moaned. Dylan’s dirty talk made something stir inside him. "Please, Dyl…" he whined. Lust and arousal burned in the pit of Randall’s stomach. As the pain subsided, pleasure, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, washed over him. It was addicting. Intoxicating. He wanted more. Needed more.

As the last dregs of Randall’s inhibitions burned away in the heat of his desire, words he’d never have dreamed of saying otherwise tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Fuck. Dyl. Just…" he growled, fingers tightening in the sheets. "Just fucking split me open with your big, fat cock already!"

Randall tried to buck his hips backward onto Dylan’s cock but Dylan’s grip on his hips made it all but impossible.

"Cute that you think you get a say in this, bro," said Dylan, with a low chuckle that sent a chill down the length of Randall’s spine. "Other than if you want me to stop, you don’t get to dictate anything, baby."

"But Dyl…" Randall whined.

"Baby, you just gotta lie there and enjoy the ride," said Dylan. Then, his voice dropped an octave and took on a dangerous, predatory edge. "But don’t worry, once I’ve cored out this sweet ass-pussy of yours, I’ll fuck you like the eager little bitch you want to be. How does that sound?"

Randall whimpered. His cock very nearly exploded then and there. He hadn’t paid it much attention the whole evening—hadn’t even crossed his mind—but now the feeling of the smooth sheets rubbing against the sensitive head made him acutely aware of how close he was to coming.

"Aw yeah, bro," said Dylan, with a low, gravelly laugh. "You liked that, didn’t you?"

Randall nodded.

"Of course you did. Horny little bitch like you can’t get enough of my big dick, can you?" said Dylan.

"F-fuck…" Randall groaned. "I-I ca—AAH!—can’t!" Just as he’d started speaking, Dylan had thrust his hips forward. Randall’s mind short-circuited halfway through what he was saying as more of Dylan’s sizable endowment slid into him.

Randall couldn’t help but moan. He was so full already and yet he knew that there was still more to come. The pain of his asshole stretching around Dylan’s cock was little more than an afterthought. At the foremost of his mind now was the intense sensation of being crammed nearly to bursting with cock meat.

"Mmm. Yeah. Clamp down nice and tight around that cock, bro. Make me feel so fucking good…" Dylan drawled.

Randall flushed. His cock throbbed. He was giving Dylan pleasure. He was fulfilling his purpose. It gave him a profound sense of satisfaction.

"Here it comes, baby," said Dylan, rubbing his thumbs in small circles over Randall’s hips. "Here it comes. I’m gonna shove it all in."

Randall took a deep breath. He steeled himself. Even so, he couldn’t help but cry out as Dylan’s hips snapped forward. His back arched. His toes curled. "D-Dyl! F-fuck!"

Dylan’s cock slid into Randall with ease at first but quickly hit some resistance along the way. Randall tried to breathe through it but the sensations were too intense. His eyes watered. Sweat beaded on his brow. A single tear rolled down the side of his face as the pressure inside built and built and built until, all of a sudden, something inside him gave.

"Oh, God!" Randall screamed as Dylan’s hips slammed into his. The feeling of being breached, of being fucked so full, made Randall’s vision swim.

"Fuck, bro," Dylan moaned. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Randall flushed. The praise made him feel happy in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. "God, Dyl… Your cock feels fucking amazing, too…" he moaned.

Dylan chuckled. He leaned down over Randall, his weight pushing his cock even further in. He pressed kisses to the back of Randall’s neck, his hot breath making Randall’s sensitive skin break out into goosebumps. "Aw yeah, baby. Clamp that fuckhole down my cock. Fuck, bro. Your pussy’s gripping me so fucking tight.

"God. Never imagined it would feel this good, bro. Fuck. I can’t believe my big cock’s finally buried in your sweet, juicy ass. I’ve been dreaming of this since I saw you at that fucking wedding, baby," Dylan panted.

Randall’s face reddened in embarrassment and arousal as Dylan’s weight pinned him under his cock. For one, he didn’t know why, but it turned him on so fucking much to know that Dylan had been fantasizing about him the whole time. For another, knowing that Dylan had been daydreaming of fucking him served only to highlight that his fantasies of Dylan had been very different.

Sure, there had been occasions that Randall jerked off to the thought of Dylan, but it had always been nebulous—some kind of nondescript sex act. His more vivid fantasies involved other things. Romantic things. Domestic things. Things he used to do with and for Hannah. Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that Randall ended up being the one following orders—the one getting fucked.

Dylan moved his right hand up from Randall’s hip. He grabbed Randall by the chin and pulled him up with him when he straightened. Instinctively, Randall arched his back and spread his knees, bucking his hips backward to firmly seat Dylan’s cock inside him.

Randall’s erection sprang free into the air. He was leaking profusely. Where his cock had been rubbing against the bed earlier, when he was on all fours, was something of a small mess.

"Here we go, bro," said Dylan, whispering the words in a low, delicious tone right into Randall’s ear. "I’m gonna break this pussy in."

Dylan pressed a kiss to the sensitive patch just behind Randall’s ear as he moved his hips. He started out with small strokes—movements in either direction of an inch or so—but even this was almost too much for Randall.

Randall moaned as the girth of Dylan’s cock made sure that something was pressing against his prostate the whole time. Pleasure blazed through his body like a wildfire, making his mind go blank and his thoughts go hazy.

"Fuck yeah, bro. This ass was made for me," Dylan grunted. An inch or so back and forth became two. Then three. He thrust his hips, pistoning his cock in and out of Randall’s tight asshole with long, slow strokes that nearly drove Randall mad.

It was torture of the highest, most exquisite caliber. Despite himself, all Randall could do was go along with it. Before long, half of Dylan’s cock was sliding in and out of him. The pleasure was intense. He didn’t know how he didn’t come through all of it.

Eventually, Dylan pulled out almost all the way, leaving only the head of his cock inside Randall. His legs trembled. Randall could feel it.

Dylan released Randall’s chin and repositioned his arm. He hooked it around the front of Randall’s neck, giving Randall something to cling to. "Fuck, baby," Dylan breathed. It sounded like he was struggling to restrain himself, which was a strange sort of comfort to Randall.

All Randall wanted was for Dylan to snap his hips forward, to drive his cock home in one vicious thrust, but that didn’t happen. Groaning through gritted teeth, Dylan slid his cock all the way into Randall at a slow, gentle pace.

For what felt like an eternity, Dylan did this. Pull almost all of the way out. Push in to the hilt. Out. In. Out. In. Slowly. Gently. Tenderly.

It was maddening. Randall felt like he was going to come apart. All he could do was grab onto Dylan’s arm and take it.

Dylan pulled out, leaving only the head of his cock inside Randall. This time, he didn’t push back in. "Can you feel it, baby?" he whispered.

"F-feel what?" Randall groaned. He could tell something had changed, but not what. His whole body buzzed with anticipation.

"Your fuckhole, bro. Can’t you feel how soft it’s gotten? How loose you are for me, now?"

"O-oh, fuck," Randall moaned, as the realization hit him like a sack of bricks. His insides fluttered. His hole clenched.

Dylan chuckled and groaned as Randall’s ring flexed around the head of his cock. "That’s right, baby. I’ve cored a perfect, supple, omega cunt out of your bitch hole."

Randall nearly came right then and there.

"Do you know what that means, bro?" said Dylan.

Randall shook his head. "N-no," he murmured, breathlessly.

"That’s okay," said Dylan, with a light laugh. "I know my big, fat, juicy Alpha cock makes it hard to think. Let me spell it out for you, bro. It means I can fuck you now."

Randall moaned. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as Dylan’s cock slid an inch deeper inside. "O-oh, God," he said.

"That’s right, baby," Dylan whispered. "I can pound this sweet little asspussy until it breaks. Do you want that?"

"G-God, yes!" Randall moaned. He didn’t even care anymore how much of a cheap whore he sounded like. There was a deep craving inside of him and he desperately needed to have it sated.

"Want me to pound you into the mattress, bro? Want me to breed this hole and make you my bitch?"

Heat. Pure, sublime heat spread through Randall’s body. Yes. Yes. He wanted nothing more.

Dylan let go of Randall’s hip. He moved his hand over to Randall’s stomach and rubbed slow circles over his middle. "Want me to pump you so full of my potent Alpha seed?"

Randall nodded.

"Want me to knock you up, bro?"

"Y-yes!" Randall moaned. He didn’t even know why it turned him on so much. He was a man. He couldn’t get pregnant.

"Want me to fuck you so hard, nine months from now, this cute little belly swells so much you can’t even see past it?"

"S-stop teasing me already, Dyl!" Randall complained. He wanted this. Needed this. The more Dylan delayed the more it drove him up the wall. "Fuck me full of your babies already!"

Dylan lowered the arm he’d wrapped around Randall’s neck. He grabbed the back of Randall’s head and pushed him down to the bed.

Randall hit the mattress with a grunt. He shivered as he felt Dylan’s hands return to his hips. Here it was. Any moment now.

"As you wish, baby," Dylan whispered.

A strangled yelp escaped Randall as Dylan’s hips snapped forward. His cock slammed hilt-deep in a single brutal motion, making Randall lurch forward across the coverlet.

Randall’s vision swam. He saw stars. As the intense pleasure crashed into him, he couldn’t help but arch his back and curl his toes. "M-more!" he begged.

"Oh you’ll get more, bro," said Dylan. He gripped Randall’s hips tightly, fingers digging into Randall’s flesh. He pulled his cock almost all the way out, leaving just the head inside. Then, with no preamble, he slammed it home again.

Once. Twice. Thrice. Dylan kept it up. Each thrust was harder than the last. If not for his grip on Randall’s hips, Randall might have slid all the way off the edge of the bed from the force of his thrusting.

Randall could only moan. Every time Dylan’s hips slapped against his, his vision would go white. The pleasure was intense. Indescribable. And it was only the beginning.

With every thrust, Dylan’s pace picked up. In and out. In and out. Each thrust coming faster on the heels of the last.

Randall chewed on his lower lip. He clutched the sheets tightly. It felt so good. Too good, almost. There was pain there, with every savage thrust, but there was pleasure too. The two worked together and mingled into a sensation that made Randall’s whole body tingle.

"F-faster, Dyl," Randall moaned. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted more. Needed more. Craved more.

It felt so good Randall could feel himself fraying at the edges. Dylan was fucking him. Hard. Harder by the moment. And he was loving it. It was his purpose. To please. To be fucked. To be bred.

Drool dribbled out of the corner of Randall’s mouth as the furious pace of Dylan’s rut showed no sign of relenting. His thoughts were scattered. The only thing he could focus on was the pleasure. The pleasure, and the pain that gave it an intense edge.

With every hard thrust, with every slap of Dylan’s hips against Randall’s ass that filled the air, the bed underneath them creaked and squealed. The headboard banged against the wall, though the racket was drowned out by the loud moans and whimpers and groans that issued from Randall’s mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Dyl!" Randall moaned. He didn’t even know what he was saying. He didn’t have the time to think about the words. Couldn’t muster the awareness to. Every word—every syllable—spilled out of him straight from his inner desires.

"Oh, God! It feels so good! Fuck! Split me open!" Randall blurted out. The only thing he wanted was to get fucked so hard he forgot his own name.

"Yeah, baby," Dylan grunted. "I’m gonna pummel this tight little asspussy of yours until it remembers the shape of my cock even when it’s not shoved up there. You want that, baby, huh? You want me to fuck you into my cock-hungry little bitch?"

"Oh, fuck," Randall groaned. He didn’t even know if it was possible but it was so goddamn hot. He wanted it. Even if it was just a fantasy, he wanted it.

Dylan doubled his pace. Randall moaned. "Gonna burn the feeling of being fucked full into that pretty little head of yours. Make it impossible to think of anything but how fucking good it feels to be stuffed with my big fat dick…"

Randall shivered as Dylan licked the back of his neck. "Make this sloppy bitch hole need and crave my cock every minute of every day."

"Fuuuck," Randall moaned. The bed rocked as the intensity of the fuck increased. He was close. So close. His cock throbbed and pulsed between his legs, just about ready to release. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

In and out. In and out. Harder, rougher, and faster with every thrust. Dylan’s relentless rhythm just wouldn’t let up and Randall was loving it. He couldn’t get enough. His whole world had shrunk down to just him and Dylan, rutting like bunnies, fucking so hard the bed just might break under the stress.

Randall grunted as Dylan pulled on his hips. It seemed such a small, innocuous thing but when the next thrust came, Randall discovered that the angle of Dylan’s fucking had changed just enough that the head of his cock slammed right into his prostate.

A low cry tore out of Randall’s throat. The pleasure was intense. Rapturous, even. It didn’t stop there. Seconds—heartbeats later, Dylan’s cock rammed into his prostate again. And again. And again.

Randall’s eyes watered. Tears streamed down his face. It felt so fucking good he was crying. Dylan kept it up. The waves of pleasure that crashed over Randall kept coming. One after the other after the other until they all blurred together in one endless torrent that swept Randall’s mind away.

For what felt like an eternity, all Randall could do was moan and groan, carried along on a raging current of pleasure. The spell only broke when Dylan’s rhythm faltered.

"Fuck, bro, I’m gonna come," Dylan moaned.

"F-fuck!" Randall grunted. "Fill me up, Dyl!"

Instead of a response, all Randall got was the sharp pain of Dylan’s teeth clamping down on his shoulder. He didn’t have a chance to complain. Dylan thrust his cock into Randall so hard Randall could have sworn he felt his brain rattling around in his skull.

"G-God!" Randall moaned.

Dylan pulled out and slammed his cock home. His grip on Randall’s hips tightened. He ground his cock into Randall’s ass, pushing it as deep as it could possibly go.

Randall could only whimper. He could feel it. Dylan’s cock pulsed and throbbed inside of him, making his fuckhole flutter.

"H-here it comes, baby," Dylan grunted. "G-gonna k-knock you up!"

With one last thrust, Dylan came. Randall felt the first spurt inside him. It was hot. Molten. He could feel it splatter his insides.

It was enough. The dam broke. Randall tilted his head back and moaned. His own cock, neglected through the night, bobbed up and down as cum rocketed out of him onto the sheets underneath.

Randall made a mess. His hole clamped down on Dylan’s cock. His insides massaged it, milking it for every last drop of cum it could give.

Spurt after spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum blasted into Randall’s guts. He thought it would never end. He’d already felt so full with just Dylan’s cock, he never imagined he could feel so much more full with Dylan’s cum.

As his orgasm tailed off, Dylan collapsed on top of Randall. "F-fuck, bro. T-that was intense…" he groaned.

Randall was pinned to the bed by Dylan’s weight. It pushed him down right on top of the mess he’d made on the sheets. Every move just smeared more of his slippery, sticky cum all over his cock, balls, and stomach. He didn’t mind so much. It was fucking hot.

"Y-yeah, I-it was," Randall breathed. Now that their first time was over, Randall’s whole body felt strangely hypersensitive. The mere sensation of the sheets against his skin was enough to make him tremble. His cock hadn’t gone soft at all despite having just shot the biggest load of his life.

To make matters worse, Randall was acutely aware of Dylan’s cock buried in his ass. It was still hard, too, and he could feel it twitch inside of him. It was so hot. It made him so horny.

Randall’s hole trembled. His walls fluttered around the length of Dylan’s cock buried inside him. Dylan pressed a kiss against the back of Randall’s neck and grinned. "Gonna be a long night, isn’t it, bro?" he said.

Randall sighed happily. A strange, satisfying warmth was spreading from his belly, and he didn’t think it was just from the gallons—or at least what felt like gallons—of cum that Dylan had pumped into him. "I-I guess so," he moaned.

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2 thoughts on “Across the Aisle

  1. “Across the Aisle” is an incredibly hot story. Without exaggerating, it’s the best first-time seduction/sex story that I’ve ever read. You’ve done an amazing job of describing the nuances and the detail to make the story come alive. I’m looking forward to reading more of your work!

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