“Yeah? Whatdoyou wanna do then?” Hank challenged, something hard now brushing against Finn’s stomach. Holding his breath, his eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned further in against Hank. The moment was so heady, so raw, that it left himswaying on his feet, and before he knew it, a pair of strong, firm hands grabbed his waist.
“I don’t know,” he breathed. “I don’t know, Hank.”
“But you do. Youdoknow. Tell me.”
“I want to forget. I just want to forget.”
“So do it,” Hank mouthed against his lips, Finn’s eyes blasting wide open at the sensation of his scruff scratching against his chin. “Use me to forget. Then I’ll use you to do the same. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Inhaling Hank’s proposition, the words moved down his throat, awakening every part of his being that they encountered. His fingers were buzzing, itching to touch the man standing in front of him. The man who had just offered himself to him, asking for a piece of himself in return. Licking his bottom lip, Finn pursed his mouth, the tip of his tongue pressing against the palate, getting ready to speak that one little word. The word that he knew he should speak, but that just tasted wrong and bitter on his tongue. The small negation that’d gotten him through the past eight years whenever he’d felt like stopping and laying his head down to rest.
No.The sound died before it even left his mouth, replaced by a low whimper that drowned in a deep, demanding groan when Hank slammed his mouth against his.Yes,lust resounded through his body.Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck yes,his dick chimed in.
Wrapping his arms around Hank’s neck, he rose to his toes, tilting his head slightly, savoring the feel of their lips pressing against each other. Maneuvering them in a half-circle, his large hands wrapped securely around Finn’s waist, Hank hoisted him effortlessly on top of the counter. Spreading his legs with his right knee, Hank moved to rest between his thighs, his hardness aligned with Finn’s through their cotton pants. Opening his mouth, he welcomed Hank inside, their tongues meeting in a dance that should’ve felt less familiar. Licking along theseam of his mouth, Hank moaned, his hands squeezing Finn’s midsection tighter, the grip bordering on painful. As if Hank instinctively knew that Finn preferred it that way, just on the edge of slipping into pain but still with that domineering feeling of pleasure.
Tilting his pelvis, his hips searched for Hank’s warm body, craving the friction that only he could provide. It should’ve embarrassed him, how wet he was, precum leaking from his slit, smearing against the already-soaked fabric of his pants. But he was beyond caring, dipping his feet into that delicious pool of impending gratification. No one had made him come in eight years, his body never craving another person’s touch until now when, with Hank’s hands on him, his hard cock against him, and his brutal tongue inside him were all he could fucking think about. It felt like the entire slate was being wiped clean with each stroke of Hank’s broad tongue against his; no past, no guilt, no shame. Just pure, untainted need.
“Please. Please, Hank,” he whimpered, his dick grinding against Hank’s length. An animal-like sound vibrated through him, Hank groaning into his mouth.
“What do you need? Tell me what you need.”
“I need to come. I need to come so fucking bad, Hank.” Never had he been the one to beg, usually the one just taking and taking. And now he suddenly felt like a novice, unsure of what to do or what to give. “Please. Take me out. Make me come. Please, Hank.” As whiny and pathetic as the words sounded, Hank seemed to grasp their full meaning. Leaning back, Hank reached for Finn’s glasses and removed them carefully, placing them on the windowsill behind him. Tilting his head slightly, Hank seemed to contemplate something, and then he nodded.
“Lift,” he ordered as he reached for the hem of Finn’s pants, tugging at the lining. Clinging to Hank’s massive shoulders like some horny koala, Finn lifted himself just enough forHank to tug the pants down his hips and further down his shivering thighs. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, smearing stickiness into the trail of dark-blond hair below his belly button. The cool surface of the wooden counter felt delicious against his heated ass cheeks, his balls throbbing, resting heavily against his taint. Taking a step back, Hank’s gaze coasted hungrily across his body, taking him in, his hazel eyes colored with admiration.Closer. He needed Hank closer.
“Damn, look at you,” Hank said, his voice raspy, strained. “Dripping all over my goddamn kitchen counter. What a sight.” Reaching out, he brushed the calloused tip of his thumb against Finn’s slit. Just the whisper of a touch, really, but his cock twitched eagerly as if it had just been electrocuted. “You’re like a goddamn fountain, aren’t you?” Nodding, Finn swayed his back, straining to rub his cock against the palm of Hank’s hand, an impatient whimper that he hardly recognized as his slipping from his mouth. Moving his fingers to his mouth, Hank lapped at the stickiness coating his thumb before he sucked it into his mouth, moaning around it. With eyes closed, Hank looked like he’d never tasted anything more savory in his life.
“Please, Hank,” he pleaded, his hands squeezing the edge of the counter, his hips humping the space between them. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, one second away from throwing a tantrum of epic proportions if Hank didn’t get his hands on himrightthefucknow.
Eyelashes fluttering, Hank opened his eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. Spitting into the palm of his hand, Hank moved back between Finn’s thighs and grabbed his cock roughly. Smearing his saliva up and down Finn’s length in ungraceful strokes, the sound of slapping skin against skin resounded through the darkness, a repetitive soundtrack interrupted only by the occasional moan and whimper. They were mostly quiet, though, Finn fucking himself into Hank’s large fist, the spitreplaced by another mouthful as soon as the movement became labored. They didn’t touch aside from Hank’s hand wrapped around his cock, setting a punishing pace. Finn’s eyes remained fixated on his cockhead, disappearing in and out of Hank’s grasp, fascinated as if he’d never been subjected to this crude interaction before. As if he hadn’t spent countless Saturday nights leaning against a bathroom stall, some stranger with his lips or hand wrapped around him, in a meaningless exchange of carnal favors.
“Hank,” he whimpered, his balls tightening, his asshole clenching between his damp cheeks. “Hank, please.” He looked up at Hank, but he was gazing over Finn’s shoulder, staring determinedly at something far away in the dark night. He didn’t know why, but it turned him on even more that Hank seemed detached from the situation. That he ignored Finn’s presence in such a blatant way, his hand around Finn’s cock the only acknowledgment that this was happening. It made him feel like an object instead of a person and it spoke to that deep-seated feeling inside of him ofbeingnothing. Ofdeservingnothing.
Suddenly, Hank added his other hand, grabbing Finn’s balls forcefully, squeezing them painfully tight in his massive fist. A whine spilled from his lips as Hank continued to beat him off at a brutal pace, his eyesight blurring, the pain so clean and vivid. Locked in this limbo where he could only just glimpse the outline of his impending orgasm, Finn felt like a puppet on a string, Hank his master, his every move determining his fate. It should’ve felt wrong, a grown man being controlled like this, but he just felt safe, free from everything that usually held him down.
Turning his head towards him, Hank leaned in, slowly wetting his bottom lip.
“Come,” he spat, releasing his grip around Finn’s balls. All the blood rushed to his cock, a scorching pain blasting throughhim, seconds before he came, strings of white hot cum coating his right thigh and Hank’s knuckles. While waves of his climax hit him and he was still submerged in an ocean of bliss and quiet, Hank scooped up a handful of his cum and tugged him off the counter. With a pitiful yelp, Finn landed ungracefully on his feet and was immediately spun around, facing the window, blackness staring back at him. Bracing the palms of his hands against the cool tiles, he heard the rustle of fabric as Hank pulled his pants down. A heavy hand landed on the base of his spine, pressing him flat against the wood, his dick still throbbing between his thighs. Sticky fingers swept between his cheeks, brushing along his crease, probing at his pucker. Leaning his heavy chest against Finn’s back, Hank slid a thick finger past the tight ring of muscle, and it was the hottest fucking thing—the awareness that Hank was using the proof of his own desire to breach him. So filthy. So primitive.
Resting his cheek against the cool wood, his eyes connected with the coffee cup that had become his as he melded with the surface, boneless and sated. The dark-green ceramic glaze with a light brown deer in the center staring back at him, all doe-eyed and innocent.Here we are.He felt like laughing at the strange turn of events, praying to any higher power that Hank would please—please—fuck him.Here we are, indeed,the deer seemed to glare back at him.
Breathing against his ear, Hank’s words teased him back to the present moment.
“I’m gonna fuck you now. If you don’t want me to, then say so. If not, then stay quiet and don’t move.” Gulping in a clipped breath, Finn felt his cock stir to life at the nonchalant tone in Hank’s voice and the matter-of-fact way in which he relayed he was going to fuck him. Remaining still, he bit back a whimper, afraid that Hank would take it as a no and stop what he was doing.
Fucking Finn open with his thick, rough fingers, Hank brushed a damp strand of hair away from his forehead with his other hand. There was something unapologetic about the otherwise withdrawn and polite older guy that spurred Finn on as he eagerly pushed back his ass against Hank’s fingers, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Finn?” Hank sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t expected those exact words to leave his mouth. Nodding gratefully, Finn bit his lip to the point of pain, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth.Yes, I am,he wanted to say.I really am. A good boy.But he settled on savoring the words inside where they were still reverberating in his chest.
Slipping his fingers from Finn’s hole, Hank remained quiet, and for a second Finn was afraid that he’d changed his mind, the emptiness bordering on unbearable. Then his deep voice broke the silence.
“Do I need a condom?” Shaking his head furiously, relief coursing through him, Finn bit his tongue to not whine out a pitifulno. When Hank aligned his fat cockhead with Finn’s hole, it dawned on him that he hadn’t even seen Hank’s cock yet. The idea that he didn’t know what the cock that was about to enter him looked like should’ve felt wrong in so many ways, but it just felt right. This wasn’t about him. Abouthispleasure or abouthiscuriosity. This was about Hank. Finn was just a means to an end. An object that would hopefully bring Hank pleasure. Just a hole that could be filled at his leisure. And he preened inside at that image. It felt right. Even kind of wholesome in a fucked-up way—a reciprocal exchange of goods, so to speak.
There was no careful slide inside his opening, no tentative inching forward. In one violent movement, Hank nearly split him in half—or at least, so it felt—the sting simultaneously sweet and painful, stealing his breath away. He hadn’t been fucked in a long time and even though Hank had prepped him, he wasn’taccustomed to being filled anymore. Some part of him—the part that recognized this for what it was and what it was never going to be—wanted to yellstop!as his hole stretched to accept the intruder into his body. But in the end, as pain morphed into a dull burn and finally into a numbing bliss, there was only an affirmativeyesand a greedymore, more, moregoing on repeat in his head like some scratched fucked-up record.
For what felt like hours, but was probably no more than minutes, Finn viewed the world through a rosy haze, his cock throbbing between his thighs with each thrust that Hank sent his way. Hitting that magical button deep within, Hank pounded into him, his large hands braced on each side of Finn. With every thrust, his hip bones slammed against the edge of the wooden counter, but he barely noticed, the sensation like a caress. Too soon, Hank’s cock grew before spilling inside him, coating Finn’s inner walls with his warm, delicious cum. Resting his entire weight on top of him, Hank panted heavily against the spot between Finn’s shoulder blades, his length throbbing inside him, accompanied by his own hasty heartbeat.
Pressing a gentle kiss against Finn’s skin that stood in sharp contrast to the impersonal nature of their fucking, Hank rose, his fingers trailing along Finn’s spine, down between his ass cheeks where they were still connected. Poking carefully at Finn’s pucker, stretched to the maximum around his thick girth, Hank drawled, his voice tinted with the aftermath of his orgasm, “You okay?”
