u/PriapusSexyStories

All characters are 18+

I wasn’t sure if it was healthy to think about another man so much, even if that guy happened to be my little brother. A surrogate one, I reminded myself. The result of an exercise, of an assignment.

“You will pretend to be brothers,” Jack had said. I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

I had become far too attached in a single month. I wondered if Freddy was on the same boat, or I was developing a one-sided bond.

Freddy. A mouth too smart for his own good. Reckless enough to let it run free. Not because he hadn’t thought about the consequences. Because he did and didn’t seem to care.

I took his barbell in my hands when he struggled too much with the lift. “That’s enough. We are dropping the weight for the next set,” I said.

Freddy glared at me as he sat up, panting heavily. “Stop coddling me.” His frown and curved lip were cute.

“Sorry lil bro. It’s my job to do that,” I said, as I changed the weights for my own lifts.

“Making others mediocre can’t be a job.”

“Keeping you from hurting yourself is,” I replied, taking the bench for myself.

Freddy remained silent, which struck me as odd. He would be running his mouth by now, pushing my buttons, even if I was doing the exercise. He was stubborn like that. When I finished, the burn on my chest made me proud.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just tired. I stayed up too late engrossed with a drone’s code.”

I nodded. The kid certainly was prone to do that.

However, that afternoon when we met at the library again to co-work, I noticed more weird behavior. He wasn’t hunched on his laptop, instead leaning against his seat. He didn’t angle his laptop away when I looked at his screen. And most damning of all, he wasn’t muttering to himself.

I put the back of my hand on his forehead. He was burning. The fever wasn’t mild at all.

It took a moment for Freddy to swat the hand away.

“Since when are you sick?” I growled.

Freddy bit his lip. We made eye contact for a few seconds until Freddy relented. “This morning. It’s just a mild fever and-”

I stood up and shut his laptop, gathering our things to get out of the library. “We are going to your room. Now.”

“I have to work!” Freddy protested, attempting to retrieve his bag. I grabbed his wrist, slinging his bag on my shoulder. I pulled him up.

“You and your stupid Superman complex,” I said, grabbing him by the back of his neck to steer him. Freddy complied, not even putting a token fight, which made me worry more.

When we arrived at his room, I put our bags at a far corner of the room. Then I turned, and grabbed the hem of Freddy’s shirt. His skin was cold and damp from the sweat. He obediently put his hands up. When it came off and the cold air hit him, he shivered. I rested my hands on his hips for a second, looking his slim body that was slowly gaining definition. He held his breath, his face flushed.

Next I pushed him to the bed, unzipped his pants, and rolled them off. He was wearing some green lantern boxers which would have made me chuckle in normal circumstances.

But he wasn’t even half hard from all the touching, which given how horny Freddy was when it came to me, it would have been certain on normal circumstances.

I tucked him in his bed. His eyes immediately shut. I moved his clothes to the far end of the room, hiding his phone among the piles of our things. Then I found a washcloth on the bathroom, soaked it, and put it on Freddy’s forehead.

Freddy’s eyes fluttered open. “Fu, are you angry?” he asked. He sounded so much like Akira, my real little brother.

I didn’t dignify the question with a response.

Freddy looked at me, his face half-red. “I’m sorry. I won’t blame you if one day I make you run out of patience and hit me.”

It took a moment for me to understand what Freddy had just said. It took me a full minute before I had my breath back in control, and I trusted myself to voice a question.

“Freddy, did your parents hit you?” I asked, some anger leaking into my voice.

Freddy nodded. “Yeah. They were strict. Sometimes cruel,” he said, as if it was a fact of ancient history, and not his. “It made me successful, even despite them.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, very slowly, gripping my fists tightly.

Freddy stayed silent for a moment. “They kicked me out of the house when I came out to them. I was seventeen,” he said, looking at the ceiling. “I went to a friends house. I got a job, a scholarship, financial aid. I survived. I thrived.” He was silent for a long moment. “There’s no home to go back to… only here,” he finally said. His eyes were glassy.

I would have to tell Jack about this.

I put my hand on Freddy’s hair, slowly petting it. He took a sharp breath. Tears fell his eyes, before he slapped my hand away.

“Don’t you dare pity me,” he almost yelled, red eyes glaring at me. He rubbed the tears away against the sheets.

I clenched my teeth. “I’m not,” I said, and it was the truth. “You said you were tired of handling things alone. Don’t push me away.”

Freddy looked to the ceiling, more tears falling.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just-” he breathed hard “- hold me? Brothers do that.”

I looked at him for a moment. I took my shirt off, then my jeans. I got into bed with him. I put his head on my chest, his body on top of mine. He was like a furnace, but I didn’t care. He didn’t let me see his eyes again, but I felt the wetness on my skin.

I rubbed his back in circles. “Is this okay?”

Freddy let out a long exhale. “Yeah. Thanks big bro.”

Soon, after minutes of repetitive motions and the stillness of the room, I felt his breath even out. I closed my own eyes, letting the tiredness of the day claim me too.

When I woke up, the inside of the covers were blazing, and both me and Freddy were drenched in sweat. I tapped him twice on his drenched back. “Freddy,” I said.

He groaned in response. “What time is it?” He asked, lifting his head.

“Time for a bath. We are disgusting,” I said, pulling him with me into an upright position.

He clung to my back, burying his nose in my shoulder, before he went to my armpit and sniffed. He took a deep breath. “You smell good big bro,” he said, grinding his ass against my dick. Damn this kid. I swear he is the only guy attractive enough to make me question if I really preferred women.

I stood up, forcing him to stand up. I took him to the bathroom where we discarded our boxers, and started the shower. He already had an erection, making no effort to hide it. In fact, he hugged me below the stream, and started grinding on me. He was less hot than yesterday and hornier; a good sign. My dick was quickly becoming hard too.

I tried to focus on soaping him up, but that proved impossible as I explored his body. His ribs. His nipples. His abdomen. His ass. His erection. “Big bro,” he said, breathless. “Please stroke me. I love how your hands make me feel.”

I closed the shower, and stroked his erection with soap. He clung to me harder, looking at me with eyes lidded with lust. It gave me a rush of energy. Suddenly, I picked up the pace. He moaned when I twirled my hand around the head of his dick. When I felt him about to burst, I slowed back down. He whined, trusting into my hand.

“Fu, stop torturing me,” he said, as he tried to wrestle my hand away to finish himself off.

I took both of his wrists with one hand, and pinned them against the wall above his head. He shivered when his back hit the cold tiles. I got close to his ear, and whispered. "I want you to call me big bro."

His knees trembled. "Big bro, please-"

He moaned, as I squeezed his erection. "Please what?" I growled.

"Make me cum. I want it to be your hand," he said, louder than he normally would.

"Anything for my little bro," I said, enjoying how he shivered against my breath. I let his hands go, and centered on stroking his erection rapidly.

"Fu," "Bro" "Big hnn-" he moaned as I brough him close to the climax. His hands gripped my back, digging nails there.

“I’ve got you lil bro. Cum for me,” I said when his hips jerked.

I aimed his dick at my abs, multiple spurts bathing me with Freddy’s cum. I kept stroking him, milking him until he was spent. When I finally stopped, he sighed in relief.

“My cum looks good on you bro,” he said, a blissful smile on his lips.

I snorted. “Brat.”

He got on his knees and attempted to suck me, but I pulled him up. “No. You have to rest,” I scolded.

Freddy crossed his arms. “I’m not an invalid vegetable.”

I shook my head, turning him around, and grinding on the cleft of his soaped ass. I held his back against my chest with an arm, while the other hand guided his hips against me.

Freddy bit his lip, clinging to my arm. “Fu…”

“You make me so horny lil bro,” I said, tightening my grip. “Your ass feels so good and you are so cute.”

“Shut up!” he half-yelled, but offered no resistance.

I chuckled, and centered on my grinding, his body pliant. Soon, heat was pooling on my groin. I turned my little brother around and made him kneel, stroking my dick rapidly. “Open you mouth,” I instructed. He swallowed saliva before he opened, sticking his tongue out. “It’s time for your medicine,” I said, guiding my length on his mouth while I gripped the back of his hair. His lips closed around my dick, and he began sucking.

I felt my warm liquid fill him. “Hnnn- Swallow it all, or it won’t work,” I said, enjoying how he looked at me while he sucked.

When I was spent, he pulled away, and wiped his mouth. “I think I'll need another dose later. I heard it’s absorbed better through my other hole.” He smirked as he pulled up.

I started the water again, ruffling his hair. “Nope. We aren’t doing that. I’m not hurting you just because you are a horndog that cannot control himself.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are overprotective.”

I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said, squirting shampoo over my hand, and working his hair.

“I hate it,” he said. The effect was lost as his body relaxed when I massaged his scalp.

“You love me.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. Then a small smile came to his lips. “Maybe.” He took shampoo in his hands, and massaged my hair back.

This story is part of a larger story. First part. Second part.

All characters are 18+

The alarm blared at 5:30 a.m. I angrily swiped my phone, hitting by accident snooze instead of stop. I wanted to throw my phone against the wall.

I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, feeling the familiar absence of energy. The thought of getting up and doing something didn’t entice me. What was the point? I could just skip the gym. Skip class. Skip everything. It wasn't like anyone would notice or care.

But then my phone buzzed with a text. Freddy.

*"Still on for the gym? I'll meet you there at 6."*

Right. I'd promised to train him. I'd told him I'd help him get stronger, teach him proper form, make sure he didn't hurt himself.

I had a second chance at being a big brother. One I couldn’t deserve, but I couldn’t waste either.

I groaned, rolling out of bed with a force of will that felt like lifting a truck. My body was heavy, my mind foggy, but I forced myself to make myself presentable. The cold air hit me as I stepped outside, and I almost turned back. But Freddy was waiting. Freddy counted on me.

That thought carried me all the way to the gym.

---

The gym was nearly empty at this hour, which was why I'd chosen it.

Every time he struggled, Freddy looked like he didn’t want me watching him. Too bad I wasn’t letting him get hurt.

"Your form is shit," I said as Freddy attempted another squat. Freddy had loaded the bar with unreasonable weight while I was distracted at my own exercise. His legs were shaking. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.

"It's fine," Freddy gritted out, pushing upward. His knees wobbled dangerously.

I stepped closer, my hands hovering near the bar. "It's not fine. You're going to hurt yourself. Drop the weight."

"No."

"Freddy—"

"I said no." Freddy's voice was sharp. I could see it in the set of his jaw, the stubborn tilt of his chin. He was determined to prove he could handle things on his own.

He pushed up again, and this time his left knee buckled. The bar tilted. Freddy's eyes went wide-

My hands were there, gripping the bar, steadying it, taking the weight back onto the rack. I struggled to keep my breathing even, my heart from shooting out of my chest. Freddy went still when I turned to him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" My voice was low, and I wasn’t hiding my anger. "I told you your form was off. I told you to drop the weight. You could have seriously hurt yourself."

Freddy didn't flinch. He didn't cower. He just stood there, his arms at his sides, his chin up, his eyes fixed on some point past my shoulder.

It took a moment for me to understand what he was doing: he was bracing. He looked ready to take whatever blow came his way and keep his back straight and his face impassive when that happened. The fog of anger on my head was extinguished.

I remembered grabbing him by the collar at the frat house. The way he'd gone up on his toes, his eyes wide but defiant. He hadn't fought back then either. He'd just waited, like he was already calculating how much it would hurt.

I forced myself to breathe, to unclench my fists, to step back. "I'm not going to hit you," I said, my voice rough. "I would never hit you."

Freddy's eyes flickered to mine, and for a moment, I saw something raw and uncertain there. Then he looked away.

"We're done for today. Get your stuff."

---

The walk back to Freddy's dorm was silent. I kept glancing at him, waiting for him to say something. Apologies. Explanations. Anything. But he just stared straight ahead, his jaw tight, his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold himself together. The corner of his eyes on me, in case I went back on my promise.

When we got to his room, I headed straight for the bathroom. I needed to wash off the sweat, the anger, Freddy’s distrust. I stripped and turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, letting the hot water pour against my shoulders. It calmed my burning back, the only muscle group I managed to target before Freddy fucked it all up.

"Can I... can I help?" Freddy's voice came from the doorway.

I looked at him, surprised. "Help with what?"

"Wash your back. As an apology. For scaring you."

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say no, angry still. But another wanted him close. Wanted to make sure he was okay.

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I want to." Freddy swallowed. "Please."

I nodded. He stripped off his clothes with quick, efficient movements, and I tried not to stare at the way his slim body moved. I failed. He was cute from this angle too. Lean lines and smooth skin, his face a light shade of red. His modest cock already half-hard.

He stepped into the shower, grabbing the soap and lathering his hands. I turned to give him access to my back. The first touch was electric. His hands on my back, sliding over the warm, wet skin, tracing the ridges of muscle, the curve of my spine. I let out a low sigh, my head dropping forward.

"Your hands are good at this," I murmured.

"I'm good at a lot of things."

"I'm sure you are."

The air between us shifted, charged with something unspoken. His hands moved lower, tracing the dip of my lower back, the swell of my ass. My breath hitched, but I didn't pull away.

Instead, I turned around, meeting his eyes. They were earnestly nervous, so different from his eyes back when I met him at the frat house. His erection was at full attention, brushing my thigh slightly when I moved.

I felt something hot and possessive flare up in my chest. "If you want to make it a proper apology," I said, "get on your knees."

He didn't hesitate. He sank down, his knees splashing against the wet floor, and took my cock in his hand. It was already half-hard, thickening under his touch. He looked up at me, a drop of water falling from his head to his nose.

"Is this okay?" he asked again.

I nodded.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip. Then he took me into his mouth, his tongue wrapping my dick’s underside. I groaned, my hand coming up to grip his hair. The heat of his mouth, the suction. He worked me slowly at first. Then his bobs were longer, and his head moved further, excitedly.

“Damn kid. You love this? You love having your big bro’s cock in your mouth?” I asked.

He hummed, looking up at me with those big eyes.

"Fuck, lil bro," I breathed. "You feel incredible. I love using your mouth"

He hummed again, the vibration low like a growl, sending sparks up my spine. His hand worked the base of my shaft while his mouth focused on the head, his tongue tracing the sensitive ridge. I could feel myself getting close, the pressure building low in my belly.

“Yeah lil bro, work for that apology,” I said, moving my hips slowly. “Your big bro is going to dump all his load in your mouth. And you are going to swallow.”

He moved even more excitedly.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you. Drinking my protein shake. Tasting a real man’s seed,” I said, stroking his hair. Freddy had a hand on my thigh, while the other gripped my hand. I was getting close. “I’m close kid. I’m about to give you your breakfast.”

He took me as deep as he could, swallowing around me. His eyes filled up with tears. I let out a guttural groan, my hips jerking as I came, spilling down his throat. He swallowed it all, pulling back only when my grip loosened.

He looked up at me, his lips swollen, his eyes watering. His own cock was hard and leaking, bobbing between his legs. He didn't touch it, didn't ask for anything. He just knelt there, waiting.

I pulled him to his feet, my hand cupping his jaw. "That was a proper apology," I said.

He nodded, but his hips shifted, his erection brushing against my thigh. A small whine escaped his lips. "Fu... my dick hurts."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not my problem."

"You're supposed to take care of me, big bro." His voice was petulant, needy. "Please. It hurts."

I made a show of sighing, of rolling my eyes. " The blowjob you just gave me was an apology. I don’t owe you shit."

“Big bro, pleaseeee. I need you. I’ll explode if you don’t touch me,” he said, gripping my bicep with both hands.

I sighed, finally moving my hand. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

"Yeah," he said, his breath hitching as my fingers wrapped around him.

I stroked him slowly, my thumb swiping over the leaking tip. He moaned, his hands moving to my shoulders for support, his body trembling under my touch. The water beat down on us, mixing with the sounds of his pleasure.

"You're so responsive," I murmured, my lips brushing against his ear. "So eager. It's intoxicating."

"Only for my big bro," he gasped. "Please big bro, please!"

My strokes quickened, my grip tightening. His moans grew louder, his hips jerking erratically. He was close, so close, and I wanted to push him over the edge.

"Cum for me, lil bro," I commanded.

He shattered. His orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing in my hand, his moans swallowed by the sound of the water. He clung to me, his body shaking, and I held him through it, stroking him gently until he went soft. The water flushed the cum away.

When it was over, he looked up at me with dazed, grateful eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Just... don't scare me like that again."

He smiled. "I'll try. But I can't promise I won't be stubborn."

I snorted, bumping his arm.

We dried off and moved to his bed, still naked, sitting side by side in silence. I could feel the weight of this and last encounter pressing down on me. I couldn’t hurt him by giving him false hope.

"I'm straight, Freddy," I said finally.

He looked at me, his expression shifting from relaxed to angry. "I'm not a girl."

The words hit like a slap. "I know you're not."

"Then what the fuck was that in the shower?" His voice rose, his hands curling into fists on his knees. "It wasn’t straight sex. I can tell you that."

"No." I shook my head, frustration building. "It wasn't. It's just..." I trailed off, searching for words that wouldn't make things worse. "I prefer girls, Freddy. By a lot. Like, orders of magnitude. If I told people I was bi, it would hurt my chances with them. They'd think I was confused, or lying, or just gay and in denial."

Freddy's jaw tightened. I could see the anger in his eyes, and the hurt that flashed. He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked away.

"I hate that I agree with you," he said quietly.

I blinked. "What?"

"You are right." His voice was flat, bitter. "It would be harder for you."

He worked his jaw, but no sound came out of him. Instead, he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

I froze for a moment, then hugged him back, pulling him against my side. He was warm and solid, and I felt something loosen in my chest.

"Thank you," I murmured into his hair.

"You accepted Freddy-as-is. It’s only fair I accept Fu-as-is."

I chuckled, patting him in the back. "We should get breakfast," I said, changing the subject before I said something cheesy back.

As we got dressed and headed out, I realized something. I'd woken up this morning not wanting to do anything, not wanting to face the day. Hung up on Akira, and repeating the past on loop. But now, walking beside Freddy, I felt... lighter. More present. Like maybe I had a reason to keep going.

Freddy was already making me healthier without trying. I hadn't skipped breakfast. I hadn't stayed in bed. I'd shown up, for him, and in doing so, I'd shown up for myself.

Maybe that was the point of Jack’s method.

I glanced at Freddy, who was already talking about his robotics project, his hands gesturing animatedly. I ruffled his hair when he looked at me with bright eyes.

This work is part of a larger series. First Part

All characters are 18+.

"As long as I am part of this institution, you won't get a license for clinical practice, Mr. Woods," Professor Barlett said.

Many professors had made the same statement throughout my major. I'd never cared for such threats to make me fall in line. If I couldn't practice psychology on a professional level, then I would earn money through other means and pursue my therapy practice free of charge.

I shrugged in response. "Your opportunity to handicap me will come when the committee has to make a decision about my license. Until then, I would prefer our conversation focused on my homework, professor."

Barlett's lip curled downward. He had expected to make this into a heroic scene of psychology's last stand against degeneracy. Unfortunately for him, I didn't care.

After our conversation was done, I went to meet Edwin at the Finance Laboratory. Edwin was there, in a full suit tailored to his body, wrapping around the muscles in his back and chest and arms. He looked like the CEO title had arrived too early for him. He smiled at me when I arrived. "Jack! I thought you would actually arrive late for once!"

I shook my head, looking at my watch. "Nope, just on time. Barely. Another professor made a heroic stance against my degeneracy."

Edwin clicked his tongue. "Shame none of them would actually hear you out. You helped me a lot!" He clapped my back, giving me a full-tooth smile.

I shrugged. "It is what it is. And treatment is not done," I said, slapping his ass.

His grin turned dangerous. "I look forward to the next therapy session."

I smiled back, then bit my lip. "Actually, I need your help with someone else's therapy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"My mentee. I think he is gay and has other issues. Now that I think about it, I could pair him with Fu. Kill two birds, one stone."

He snickered. "Sex with your mentee is probably unethical."

I rolled my eyes. "First, we don't know if it will get to that point. Second, if it does, he is going to be better because of it. So shut it."

He raised his hands in mock surrender.

We worked on Glitch-Money-Bot v3, debating over a bunch of technical stuff. Getting this right was necessary. If I never got my license, I wanted incomemthat didn't require a lot of work. That way, I could do more unconventional therapies.

When that was done, I texted my mentee and told him to meet me at the frat house at 8 p.m.

---

I opened the door to my mentee, Freddy, with Edwin beside me. Freddy wore blue jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. The clothes didn't hug his slim frame tightly, but they suited his handsome face. The tightness of his frame told me he was nervous, while his bored face told me he didn't want to look vulnerable.

"Hey, man. You arrived just in time," I said while putting my hand on his back to bring him in. Edwin closed the door behind us. My hand remained on his back, grounding him in someone familiar he trusted.

Freddy relaxed a little, his body subtly leaning toward me. "I always arrive on time," he said, his chin slightly up.

Edwin caught up to us and whistled. "Damn, he is just like you. Do you think they knew when pairing you?"

I shook my head. "I think it's a happy coincidence. What do you think, Freddy?"

Freddy merely nodded and said nothing else. However, he looked at me, amused.

We passed in front of the pool table. "Jack, Edwin, my men! Whose bitch boy is this?" one of the guys asked.

We stopped. Edwin started. "He is—"

"The only bitch-boy here is you," Freddy said, crossing his arms and looking straight into the guy who just slighted him.

Everyone in the room howled and laughed. Asshole guy was red in the face. I hugged Freddy by the shoulder and steered him away. I wasn't going to give an opportunity to turn a spat into a fistfight.

Edwin fell into step beside us, his hand finding the small of Freddy's back for just a moment. "Quick tongue. I like that. But maybe save the verbal grenades for when Jack and I aren't the ones who have to clean up the mess."

Freddy glanced at him, then at me. "He started it."

"And you finished it," Edwin said with a grin. "Just remember, some of these guys hold grudges. You don't want to make enemies on your first visit."

We went to the mini-bar. Fu was there, getting a beer. He wore a plain tee and green cargo pants that hid his muscled complexion. However, his big biceps, one of which was adorned with an ink dragon, were visible. He nodded to us before he retreated to his room. Last semester he would have stayed for conversation. Last semester his back would be straight, but recently he had taken the habit of walking with a curved back.

I dislodged myself from Freddy and grabbed three beer cans. I handed one to Edwin and offered one to Freddy.

Freddy scrunched his nose. "I don't drink."

Edwin blew a raspberry. "Come on, man, live a little."

Freddy looked at Edwin, then he looked at me. He stayed silent for a few moments. His face suddenly turned determined. "If I have to drink to stay, I'll leave," he said, looking me in the eyes.

I smiled at him, returning the can to the mini-bar. "Okay," I simply said. Freddy's shoulders dropped a bit.

Edwin cracked open his beer and took a long sip. "Respect. A man who knows his boundaries." He raised the can in a small toast. "But you're missing out. This is the good stuff."

As I led Freddy to our room, I reflected. Freddy's boundaries were well formed. It was good for Freddy, but it would certainly make the therapy more challenging. His stubborn mind would need reasons for what I would request him to do. An intellectual connection was necessary.

When we entered our room, Freddy took it in. I gestured for him to sit on my bed. I took the chair from my desk and sat in front of him, resting one of my feet between his. Edwin sat beside Freddy, leaning back against the headboard with his beer still in hand.

"So, Freddy, are you going to tell me the truth, always the truth, and nothing but the truth?" I asked him.

Freddy looked at me suspiciously. "Why? Is this an interrogation?" he half-joked.

I shook my head. "No. But we won't get anywhere if lying is available."

Freddy exhaled. "I won't lie. However, I reserve my right to the Fifth Amendment."

I chuckled, and Freddy smiled like he'd won something.

"What do you think of psychology? Don't sugarcoat it."

Freddy pursed his lips. He rubbed his nape and averted his eyes. "It's not a science." It was what I expected. After all, Freddy was not happy in the beginning to have a Psychology major as a mentor for a Robotics major and had asked for a reassignment.

Edwin laughed. "Bro, he just dissed your career. Fake-ass scientist, he said."

Freddy shot Edwin a dirty look, who laughed harder.

"I asked for his opinion. And just for the record, I'm not mad at you, Freddy."

Freddy raised his eyes and met mine, skeptical. I held his gaze. He looked down again.

"Why do you think it's not a science?" I gently asked.

Freddy shifted his feet. "Anti-concepts. Lack of a coherent theoretical framework. Unfalsifiable statements. There are a bunch of reasons."

I shook my head and put my hand on his knee. "I think you are confusing pop psychology with psychology as a career. Granted, the field has its issues.But I assure you, what you just said isn't that prolific."

We debated for thirty minutes about the merits of psychology as a science. Edwin interjected occasionally, not to take sides but to ask questions that pushed the conversation deeper. He had a knack for cutting through intellectual posturing, probably from all those business negotiations he'd been practicing. Even though I failed to convince Freddy that psychological practice was a science, at least he seemed more open to the idea it could be one.

"I have my own theory, more like hypothesis, if you want," I said. Freddy looked interested. "It has some theoretical basis, but its evidence is more anecdotal, as I'm currently in the process of gathering it."

Freddy narrowed his eyes. "I see. And you want to use it on me."

I merely smiled in response.

"And what does this theory consist of?"

I shrugged. "I can't say. Expectations can change outcomes and become self-fulfilling prophecies. That wouldn't be good science, now would it?"

He processed it. I winked at Edwin while he did, who grinned at me. "Fine. But I don't get what I would need therapy for."

I stood up. "You will see," was all I said before I led the party out of the room and into Fu's room.

Fu was startled when I opened his door. He was lying wearing only boxers on his bed, looking at his phone, with a beer on his bedside table. I turned to look at Freddy, whose mouth hung a little open as he saw Fu's muscled body. His eyes traced the lines of Fu's chest, the ridges of his abs, the thick thighs that strained against the fabric of his boxers. Freddy swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

"What the fuck, Jack?" Fu asked, clearly annoyed.

I clapped my hands. "Remember when I told you that if you continued being depressing, I would intervene?"

Fu was depressed, that much was obvious. Normally, depression in males had less to do with social isolation, and more to do with a lack of purpose. In Fu's case, a perceived failure triggered his depression.

Fu crossed his arms. "Fuck you."

"See? It's already working." Fu wasn't amused by my antics. "Freddy, please tell us, what do you think of frat culture and hazing? Say it as respectfully as you can."

Obviously, he would not. But the conversation was the seed I needed to get Fu out of the hole he was at.

Freddy raised an eyebrow at me, like I was stupid. "Respectfully?" he said like he couldn't believe it. "It's stupid, cruel, and denigrating. And that's me being generous." Just as I thought, he had strong opinions.

Fu's eyes narrowed at Freddy's words. He sat up straighter, his muscular chest expanding as he took a deep breath. "That's a strong opinion for someone who's never been through it."

Freddy crossed his arms, meeting Fu's gaze without flinching, though I noticed his eyes flickered down to Fu's chest for just a moment before snapping back up. "I have eyes and a brain. Dead people, treating people like slaves for entire semesters. Yeah, no thanks."

Fu's jaw tightened. "Those are extreme cases. Most frats aren't like that."

"Not extreme when they keep happening," Freddy shot back. "How many more before you admit the whole culture is rotten?"

"Maybe the problem isn't the culture," Fu growled, swinging his legs off the bed. "Maybe the problem is kids who can't handle a little pressure."

"A little pressure?" Freddy's voice rose. "Your 'innocent pranks' are psychological torture, not a tough workout. There's a difference between challenging someone and breaking them."

Fu stood up, his full height towering over Freddy. "And what would you know about being challenged? You probably had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

"I've earned everything I have," Freddy said, undeterred by the size difference. His eyes lingered over Fu's collarbone, before he forced his gaze back to Fu's face. "You earned membership to a group that only accepted you because you let yourself be abused. And now you abuse others in turn."

"Abuse?" Fu stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You don't know what real abuse is."

"I know it when I see it," Freddy countered, his chin lifting defiantly. "And I'm seeing it right now."

Fu's hand shot out, grabbing Freddy by the collar of his shirt. The fabric bunched in his fist, pulling Freddy up onto his toes. Their faces were inches apart, Freddy's eyes wide.

My hand was there, firm on Fu's wrist.

"That's enough," I said, my voice calm but commanding.

Fu's grip didn't loosen immediately. His jaw was tight, his eyes furious. He took a deep breath, then shoved Freddy away.

Freddy didn't take his eyes off Fu's, his eyes full of contempt but mixed with lingering lust.

Edwin stepped between them, his broad frame a physical barrier. "Alright, both of you need to breathe." He put a hand on Fu's chest, not pushing, just present. "Fu, you're bigger than this. Literally. You don't need to prove anything with your fists."

Fu's chest heaved under Edwin's palm, but he didn't move.

Edwin turned his head slightly toward Freddy. "And you. You made your point. You don't need to keep hammering it home." His voice was calm. "Jack brought you here for a reason. Trust him enough to see where this goes."

Freddy's jaw worked, but he stayed silent.

I stepped forward, placing myself between the two of them. "I think this discussion showcases problems with you two. Fu, you couldn't hold your own in the debate, so you turned the thing physical. By doing that, you admitted you lost," I told Fu.

Fu looked at me like he had a choice of words with me. Or a choice of punches.

"That was pathetic," I told him, undeterred. Fu's jaw tightened. "You attempted to silence Freddy. Sometimes that can suit your ends." I shrugged. "But in certain situations, it can backfire spectacularly." His eyes sharpened. He knew where this was going. "I am not like the other guys. My job is not to validate you. This is where you went wrong with your brother."

Fu's breath came short. He looked red in the face. I almost reached his breaking point. His eyes flickered in pain. He knew I was right.

I turned around to look at Freddy. "And you. I am your mentor because your academic skills mean nothing if you don't develop soft skills. Very debate bro what you did, very factual, and utterly ineffective," I said to Freddy. Freddy looked ready to argue. "You almost got yourself assaulted. And martyrdom is stupid, Freddy."

Freddy went speechless. He opened and closed his mouth, like every counterargument he thought came up short. His eyes darted to Fu, still angry, still flushed, and I saw the conflict playing out on his face.

Many therapists would think I was insane over what I just did. I call it effective, as I was always in control of the situation. Obviously, I wasn't letting Freddy get assaulted. And it wasn't the end of my intervention, because this was just the beginning of my approach. I needed them to forge a connection out of the conflict so they could grow.

I addressed Fu. "You need to learn how to handle delicate people. Freddy is not exactly fragile, but he isn't exactly tough, so it's a good starting point."

Fu glared at me for a few seconds. "No," he said, all grave and tough.

I shrugged. "Okay. Make the same mistakes then. I'm sure your old methods will yield different results this time."

Fu flinched. Good, he had to face reality.

Edwin spoke up. "Look, I know Jack's methods might look insane, but they work. You know how I was before, and I changed for the better thanks to Jack." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I was a mess. Couldn't hold a conversation without sweating through my shirt. Couldn't look anyone in the eye. Now I'm running a finance lab. Jack did that. Not with pills or platitudes, but with methods that made me uncomfortable enough to grow."

Fu looked at Edwin for a moment, then he looked at me, then at Freddy. His gaze lingered on Freddy's face, and I saw something shift in his expression. His eyes weren't softer, but there was acknowledgment. "What are you exactly proposing?"

I grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Wait a second!" Freddy protested. "I haven't agreed to anything. And he almost assaulted me!"

I put my hand on Freddy's shoulder. "Well, I thought it would be better for you to have two mentors. Fu is a robotics major, one of the best of his cohort, actually."

Despite it all, Freddy looked at Fu with interest. His eyes traced the lines of Fu's arms, the dragon tattoo coiling around his bicep, before he caught himself and looked back at me.

"And I promise you, he isn't going to be abusive towards you."

Freddy scowled. "You can't promise that."

"I just did. Because the framing of the activity is everything. Fu, Freddy, you are going to pretend you are brothers," I said.

Fu and Freddy both looked at me like I had gone insane. "He isn't Akira," Fu said.

"Yup," I said, the p popping in my mouth. "I'm asking you to pretend that Freddy is a brother, not Akira. Someone you are supposed to protect and guide."

I didn't make my case stronger. Some things are better left for Fu's brain to make a case for. "Do you agree?"

Fu chewed his lip. He looked at Edwin, then at me, then at Freddy. His eyes lingered on Freddy's face, on the flush still coloring his cheeks, on the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. He swallowed, but nodded.

Freddy shook his head. He pointed at Fu. "I'm not playing house with him. Nuh-uh."

Of course he would say that.

"Look, Freddy, worst case scenario, you will have lost some hours of your life, and you disprove my theory as false. Best case scenario, you will have helped me gather more evidence to prove my theory true, and you will get a mentor in robotics out of the whole deal."

Freddy was mulling it over, but he crossed his arms. "I don't even know what you are trying to prove."

I smiled. "I told you, expectations can fuck up an experiment."

Freddy shook his head. He looked at Fu, his eyes going soft for a moment, lingering on Fu's broad chest, before they went annoyed. "Fine. I'll be Fu's little brother."

I looked at Edwin. "I need to be alone with them for the next part," I said.

Edwin nodded, pushing off from where he'd been leaning against the wall. He clapped Fu on the shoulder as he passed. "Trust the process, man. It works."

Then he paused at the door, looking back at Freddy. "And you. Don't let that sharp tongue get you into trouble you can't talk your way out of." He winked, then left, closing the door behind him.

I cracked my knuckles. "Great! Fu, your task is to make Freddy feel safe with you." I looked at him in the eye, until he nodded. "Good. Now, keep the hug going!" I pushed Freddy, who tumbled into Fu's arms. Fu enveloped Freddy's upper back with one arm, and his hip with the other.

Freddy reddened when he realized he was pressing against Fu's body. He immediately tried to pull away, but Fu kept him pinned. Freddy then tried to push hard against Fu, which only served as mild exercise for Fu.

"Let me go!" Freddy yelled.

"Damn, you are loud," was everything Fu had to say about it. Actually, after a few seconds of struggle, he had something else to say. "If you keep struggling, you'll make your boner worse."

Freddy went red but stopped struggling, his hands resting on Fu's chest. Trying to make space, which was none given Fu's grip. Freddy's erection was probably pressing Fu's hip given their position.

"Freddy, this is a safe space where you can risk confessing to things you would never risk to your real family," I said. "Is there something you want to tell your big brother?"

Freddy's face was flush. He looked into Fu's eyes, who tried to look nonchalant. "Are you okay with it?"

Fu raised an eyebrow. "Okay with what?"

"... That I'm a fag. That I get hard when a hot guy hugs me."

Fu exhaled. "Look, little brother, you are right. I'm hot," Fu replied with a smirk. Freddy didn't laugh, his eyes still on Fu's. "And if having a dick up your ass makes you happy, then yeah, I'm okay with it."

Freddy took a shaky breath. He smiled. "I wish my parents would tell me that."

Fu didn't say anything, choosing to rub Freddy's back instead. Freddy stopped trying to get space, and hugged Fu back.

"Would it be okay if it was your dick up his ass?" I asked Fu. Freddy immediately tensed, his hips jerking a little in anticipation.

Fu looked at me, annoyed. "I'm straight."

I didn't point out the low-hanging fruit of the erection he kept pressed to his hip.

"I'm not asking how you identify. I'm asking if you are down to fuck him, specifically," I replied. "You wouldn't have to touch his dick, or anything you don't want. Just use his hole." I said.

Fu's face was conflicted. He looked at me, then at Freddy. Freddy's face was pink, his mouth half open, he held his breath in anticipation. Fu growled in response. He turned Freddy around, his dick pressing against Fu's ass, while he held him securely by the hips. He began grinding, Freddy moaned.

I started unbuttoning Freddy's shirt. Then I took it off, making the process as long as possible. Suddenly Freddy's naked back was pressed against Fu's naked chest. Fu brought one hand up and pinched Freddy's nipple, who moaned and ground his ass back.

Next I unzipped Freddy's jeans and took off only those, lifting Freddy's legs as I did, as Fu kept him pinned against him. Freddy's red Flash underwear was revealed, the front of his tent full of precum. Freddy went red when he realized what he was wearing.

Fu chuckled. "You are so cute."

"Shut up," Freddy snapped.

I let Fu grind against Freddy, the fabric between them thin, before I spoke again. "Are you afraid of presenting yourself to your big brother?" I asked Freddy.

Freddy looked at me confused. Then his eyes went wide, and he bit his lip. He hooked his fingers on his waistband and pulled his boxers off, stepping out of them as they dropped to the floor.

"Damn, even your erection is cute," Fu said, looking at Freddy's uncut dick.

"Shut up," Freddy said, his voice rising an octave.

He bit his lip and bent over, using my hands as support while he ground back against Fu's clothed erection.

Fu took a sharp breath. He let Freddy go for a moment to discard his boxers. Now his unclothed dick ground directly against Freddy's ass, while he gripped Freddy's hips tightly.

I took the lube out of my pocket, handing it to Fu. "Okay straight boy. Here's the deal. Apply it to his ass and your fingers. Go with one finger first, and search for his prostate. It's his pleasure spot. He will moan when you hit it."

Fu did just that. He curved his finger inside Freddy, until Freddy began moaning like a bitch. Then he went for the second, then the third. Finally, I gave him the green light to insert his dick.

"Shit, you feel so tight lil bro," Fu said, groaning as he entered Freddy.

Freddy moaned. "You are so big, big bro," Freddy replied.

Fu waited for a minute, before he started to fuck Freddy.

Fu's first thrust knocked the air from Freddy's lungs. His fingers dug into my hands, gripping tight as Fu set a brutal pace: zero to a hundred in three seconds, just as I'd predicted. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Freddy's high, desperate moans and Fu's low, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, lil bro," Fu growled, his hips slamming forward. "You're taking me so well."

Freddy's response was a string of broken syllables that might have been "yes" or "more" or "please." His back arched, pressing his ass harder against

Fu's thrusts, and I watched his cock bob between his legs, leaking a steady stream of precum onto the floor.

I moved to the side, letting Freddy's hands go. This was the critical moment, the point where the therapeutic frame either held or collapsed. Fu needed to stay in the role of protective big brother. Freddy needed to accept Fu's new role in his life.

"Tell him how it feels," I instructed Freddy, my voice calm despite the intensity of the scene.

Freddy's head lolled to the side, his eyes glazed. "So good," he gasped. "Big bro, your cock feels so good inside me."

Fu's rhythm faltered for just a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he redoubled his efforts, one hand sliding up Freddy's chest to pinch his nipple while the other gripped his hip hard enough to bruise.

"Yeah?" Fu's voice was rough, strained. "You like being fucked by your big brother?"

"Love it," Freddy moaned. "Love your cock. Love how you fill me up."

I circled around to get a better view of Freddy's face. His expression was raw, open. His lips were parted, his cheeks flushed, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

"Fu," I said, "slow down. Make him feel every inch."

Fu obeyed, his thrusts becoming longer, deeper, more deliberate. He pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in, savoring the tight heat of

Freddy's body. Freddy whimpered, his hips pushing back, trying to take more.

"Please," Freddy begged. "Please, big bro, don't stop."

"I won't," Fu promised, his voice thick. "I've got you, lil bro. I'm going to take care of you."

The words seemed to break something open in Freddy. A sob escaped his lips. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he surrendered completely, his body going pliant in Fu's arms.

"That's it," I murmured. "Let it out. Let yourself feel everything."

Fu's pace quickened again, but this time with some tenderness. His hand left Freddy's chest and came up to cup his jaw, tilting his head back so their eyes could meet.

"I've got you," Fu repeated. "You're safe with me."

Freddy's tears became more abundant. His tension tightened.

"Fu," I said quietly, "he's close. Make him cum."

Fu's hand slid down Freddy's body, wrapping around his neglected cock. He stroked in time with his thrusts, his grip firm but gentle. Freddy cried out, his hips jerking erratically.

"Cum for me, lil bro," Fu commanded. "Let go."

Freddy shattered. His body convulsed, his cock pulsing in Fu's hand as he spilled onto the floor. His moans were loud, unrestrained.

Fu followed moments later, his hips slamming forward one final time as he buried himself deep inside Freddy. He groaned, his forehead dropping to Freddy's shoulder, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing and the soft drip of cum hitting the floor.

Then Fu pulled out slowly, carefully, and gathered Freddy into his arms. He held him close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, the other cradling his head.

"You did good, lil bro," Fu murmured. "You did so good."

Freddy buried his face in Fu's chest, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I let them have their moment, to share some intimacy, before I went back to the clinical practice.

"Freddy, you cried when Fu said he was going to take care of you. Why?"

Fu turned to look at Freddy, a curious expression on him. Freddy's eyes were red, and he looked like he had been through a marathon. "I always had to handle things for myself. I felt relieved when he said that."

So, just like I hypothesized, Freddy lacked containment.

I nodded. "Okay, I'll tell you what just happened, since the experiment cannot be altered by your expectations alone now. I used sex to form a bond between you two," I said.

Freddy frowned in confusion.

"You may think it's obvious that you can do that. You are right. However, what's not obvious is that this bond can be a method for therapy. So, here's my assignment for the rest of the month: you are going to behave like close brothers would. Bonding time is not optional. Fu has to be a safe place for you Freddy, while Freddy has to be your anchor to reality Fu."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fu asked.

"That means, while your objective is to make Freddy feel safe, Freddy's objective is to be your objective judge. And he has to be gentle about it, so you don't immediately shut down."

Freddy groaned in response. "There's nothing gentle about the truth."

"The truth is harsh. But if you are its messenger, you decide on delivery," I told Freddy.

Freddy mulled it over. He turned towards Fu. "You are a bad loser."

Fu slicked his finger with saliva and put it in Freddy's ear. Freddy soon yelled uncle. Fu stopped, smirking at Freddy.

"I will accompany you two meanwhile, holding standard therapy sessions individually, and others with you both."

Fu shifted, pulling Freddy closer against his side. The gesture was unconscious, protective. "What happens after the month is over?"

I smiled. "That depends on how much progress you both make. The goal is for you to internalize these roles. Eventually, you won't need to pretend."

Freddy looked up at Fu, his expression uncertain. "And if it doesn't work?"

"Then we reassess," I said simply. "But I have the feeling it just kind of did."

Fu snorted, but there was no heat in it. Freddy's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile.

"Now," I said, standing up and stretching, "I suggest you two get cleaned up. Fu, you should walk Freddy back to his dorm. Consider it your first assignment as a big brother."

Fu nodded, his arm still around Freddy. "Yeah, okay."

Freddy looked at me, his eyes searching. "Jack, I... thank you. For giving me a brother."

I shrugged. "Don't thank me yet. The hard part starts now."

As they gathered their clothes and headed for the shower, I slipped out of the room. Edwin was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"How did it go?" he asked.

I smiled. "Better than expected. They're both exactly what the other needs."

Edwin pushed off the wall and fell into step beside me. "You know, for someone that acts so aloof, you sure do put a lot of work into helping people."

I shrugged. "Helping people is the point. The license is just a piece of paper."

Edwin laughed. "Tell that to the teachers."

"One day, I will. Right before I prove them wrong."

We walked back to our room, the sounds of the frat fading behind us. Two more people in the path of healing, one I just chartered.

Unconventional? Absolutely. Effective? Time would tell.

But I was betting on yes.

Continue here

Part 1

Note: Gringo in Spanish is slang for American (from the US). When Sebastián sings, you read a translation to the spirit and beat of the lyrics of “Estamos Melos.”

The next morning, I woke up feeling conflicted. Don Michael had put a finger in my ass, and the worst part was that I had loved it. I couldn't imagine anything gayer than that.

My morning wood surged as the sensation flooded back into my memory. I refrained from touching myself; there was no need to throw more fuel on the fire. He would eventually return to Gringoland… and I would eventually have to find a girl I could stomach.

I decided I should remain friendly with him. I didn’t want him to feel awkward just because my opinion had shifted more than a weather vane in a storm. But I told myself I shouldn't do those naughty things with him again.

I looked out the window, then down at the shattered screen of my phone. 6:10 a.m. I shook my head and climbed out of bed. I blasted some music and sang my lungs out in the shower, determined to wash the memory away. The cold water helped me go soft again.

“Are we alright?” I sang along with the lyrics.

“Ye, ye, ye, yessir!” Camilo sang back from my room.

I hurried through my shower and stepped out, grabbing my boxers from the cabinet and sliding them on beneath my towel before letting the fabric drop. I dressed in front of Camilo, barely paying him any mind.

“Sebas, did you meet that French girl who arrived yesterday? Marine?” he asked while I combed my hair back in the bathroom.

“The one in the white and blue striped t-shirt?”

“That’s the one. She’s so cute, and those boobs... ugh.” The audible flop of Camilo hitting my bed echoed through the room. “I’m in love.”

I rolled my eyes, stepping out of the bathroom. “You fall in love with every guest that has tits.”

He shrugged. “Hey man, in love and war there’s a common truth,” he said as I tied my shoes. “Every foxhole is a trench.”

The image of Don Michael’s backside flashed in my mind, and I fought to push it away. I felt myself growing hard again.

“Just imagine having that goddess all over you,” Camilo continued. Instead, I imagined Don Michael’s sculpted back as he rode me, his powerful muscles flexing under the strain. My cock was fully erect. I tried to hide the tent, but Camilo spotted it instantly. “Dude—you like her too!”

It was better that he believed that than the truth. “Shut up,” I muttered, tucking my cock upward to make it less conspicuous.

I walked out, holding the door for Camilo. We strolled along the gravel road, flanked by palm trees, vibrant flowers, and lush tropical greenery. “If you get the chance, no hard feelings if you bang her. In fact, respect.”

I snorted. “As if you could score with her. You haven’t gotten laid with a single guest in the last year.”

Camilo huffed. “Look who’s talking. You haven’t either.”

I looked him in the eye and grinned. Camilo’s eyes widened. “You did?! When? With who?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Aww, come on, man!” He pestered me relentlessly until we reached the mess hall. We were forced to end the conversation in front of the women; the staff had taken offense to our crassness in the past.

But the moment we stepped out of the hall, he was back at it. After five minutes, I was on the verge of yelling.

Then, Don Michael’s strong silhouette and warm smile came into view. All my irritation vanished, replaced by a surge of horny admiration. He wore a tank top that hugged his frame and tight shorts that showcased his bulky, muscular legs.

“Hey, Sebastián,” he said, his voice deep yet sweet.

“Good morning, Don Michael,” I replied.

Don Michael gave Camilo a nod before continuing toward the mess hall. I couldn't help but stare at his backside as he walked away.

“Did you know he’s gay?” Camilo asked out of nowhere.

I blinked, keeping my pace. We were approaching the beach, but the sight of the ocean did little to calm my racing heart. “Really?”

“Yeah. Gabriela told me,” he said. If I recalled correctly, Gabriela was a guest from Medellín.

I rolled my eyes. “Women are always like that. If a guy doesn’t give them dick, he’s gay. A man can’t just not be interested in her.”

“Have you seen Gabriela? Who wouldn’t want to bang her?” Camilo asked. “And anyway, he literally told her himself. She was disappointed.”

“I see.”

“On the bright side, it’s less competition; on the bad side, we have to protect our asses,” Camilo joked, reflexively moving a hand to cover his rear.

I took a deep breath, careful not to sound defensive. “Don Michael has been nothing but cordial to me.”

“Yeah, but you never know. Plenty of Gringos come here for sexual tourism!”

I rolled my eyes again. If we were in Medellín or Cartagena, he might have a point. But this was the middle of nowhere. People came here for nature and surfing, not sex.

Thankfully, my walkie-talkie crackled to life, giving me a convenient excuse to leave Camilo behind.

I worked hard for the rest of the day, though my mind kept drifting back to Michael. Occasionally, I fantasized about another encounter. I imagined taking him to my secret spot, talking under the glow of the moonlight with our reflections shimmering on the pristine water. We would share a romantic kiss. My hands would grip his hips, and I would slide into him. Then I would snap back to reality, chastising myself for being so pathetic.

He had never promised me anything more than sex. But I wanted more. I wanted... romance. Even if it were a romance that ended in a week. I knew I shouldn't want it, so I told myself I'd settle for friendship. But he didn't want that, did he?

By 5:00 p.m., I was exhausted, wanting nothing more than for the day to end—to forget him and put this reckless adventure behind me once he flew home.

Then I heard Michael’s confident footsteps just as I was clearing some brush. My shoulders tensed, but I didn't turn around.

“Hey, Sebastián. I was thinking... do you want to do something tonight? The rest of the group is pretty dead after the trek we did today.”

I forced a smile. “Sorry, Don Michael... I don’t want to do anything...” I couldn’t finish the sentence; I couldn't bring myself to say what "anything" meant out loud.

Michael cocked his head. “That’s okay. We don’t have to have sex,” he said. My eyes snapped to his green ones. His smile was effortless. “How about we watch a movie on my laptop? I have my own internet.”

Was the offer genuine? Did that mean Michael didn’t see me as just a sexual object? Had I spent the entire day berating myself over a lie? God, I was so stupid.

“Sebastián?” Don Michael asked, frowning slightly.

I shook my head. “Sorry, Don Michael. I finish work at seven, then I have dinner. How does eight sound?”

“Sounds like a date!” he replied.

A date. An actual date! I practically ran toward the mess hall when dinner time arrived just to burn off some of my nervous energy. I couldn't let my coworkers see my excitement. Especially not Camilo.

I kept my reactions muted, avoiding too much smiling or talking, and focused on others' conversations. When I took my tray, I told Camilo I was too tired to hang out and that we'd catch up tomorrow. He thought nothing of it, called me boring a few times, and told me to sleep well. After brushing my teeth, I sneaked out to Michael’s room, ensuring no other staff members saw me.

I knocked on his door, shifting my feet nervously. When he opened it, he was wearing a tailored shirt that accentuated his muscles, his hair was neatly combed, and he wore slim-fit jeans. He had actually made an effort.

“Sebastián!” he greeted me warmly with a hug. I took the opportunity to inhale his scent: a blend of citrus cologne, deodorant, and the hotel's shampoo. “Come in! I just set up Starlink. We’re ready for the movie.”

“What’s Starlink?” I asked, taking a seat, seeing the antena he set up on the terrace.

He sat beside me, resting his leg against mine. He explained everything—the satellites, SpaceX, and even AI. His green eyes lit up as he spoke. The way he explained things so patiently made me feel like I was talking to the smartest man in the world, and surprisingly, I was keeping up. It was incredible for a high-school dropout like me.

“So, Don Michael, what movie are we watching?”

He smiled. “Well, you told me you’ve never met someone with the 'gay lifestyle.' I want to correct that.” With a sly grin, he put on Brokeback Mountain, calling it "the gay cowboy movie."

As the film started and we settled in, he draped his arm around me, and I leaned into him. I rested my hand on his thigh. I decided nothing more would happen tonight; there were a myriad of reasons why sex wasn't a good idea.

But I wasn't prepared for the movie to actually engage me; to stir something deep inside. When I began to cry, Don Michael gently rubbed my arm and used his thumbs to brush the tears from my face.

I barely resisted the urge to move my hand from his leg to his dick. Just the thought of it made me hard. Don Michael noticed, of course, but he said nothing. He simply maintained the embrace, making no move to push me toward anything.

Somehow, his restraint made me even hornier.

When the credits rolled, he stood up, stretching his limbs. His shirt pulled up, revealing a glimpse of his abs. “Well, I enjoyed hanging out with you. But we both have to get up early tomorrow, so-”

I took his hand. He turned to face me. His pale skin, kissed by a light sunburn, looked beautiful in the dim glow of the laptop screen. I swallowed hard, acutely conscious of my erection.

I knew I shouldn’t do this. But damn, did I want to.

I pulled him back onto the couch and cupped his face. Slowly, I leaned in, and suddenly my lips were on his, desperate and hungry. I gripped his hips, pulling him flush against me. He slid his hands under my shirt, exploring my skin.

I moaned, pushing my tongue forward. He responded in kind, and I sucked on his tongue as he gripped me tightly.

I broke away for a second, breathless. “Can I... can I fuck you?” I asked.

Don Michael blinked. “Fuck my ass, you mean.”

I simply nodded, my gaze dropping to his erection.

Don Michael took my hand. “Let’s go to the bathroom. The only lube we have is soap,” he said.

As we stripped, my erection felt so strained it actually hurt. Pulling off my pants and boxers was a massive relief.

Don Michael braced his hands against the shower wall, presenting his backside to me. I wet the bar of soap, rubbing it over his entrance and then over my own length.

“First, stretch me with your fingers. Then you can put that in,” Don Michael instructed.

I lubricated a finger and gently pushed inside him. He groaned as I sank deeper until I bottomed out. Remembering my own experience, I began to search for his prostate. When I hit a certain spot, he moaned loudly. I kept the pressure there until he begged, “Please, go for the second one, Sebastián.”

I complied, using two fingers to expand him, preparing him for the girth. I captured his mouth with mine, my tongue exploring his as I rubbed that spot again. He pulled away, breathless. “Sebastián, please... just put that cock in me!”

I withdrew my fingers and lined myself up. I pushed in, feeling his walls press tight against me. I groaned as I slid home.

Don Michael bit his arm as I pushed deeper. Once I bottomed out, I tried to rock my hips, but he stopped me. He had left a visible bite mark on his skin. “Sebastián. Wait a second. I need time for my ass to get used to you,” he gasped.

I nodded, using the pause to explore his body with my hands—his broad back, his chest, and those incredible abs. Finally, he whispered, “I’m ready.”

I rocked my hips experimentally. When he responded with a moan of pure pleasure, I accelerated. I gripped his hips and began pounding into him, the soap creating sloppy, wet sounds with every thrust. “God, Michael, you feel so good,” I groaned. Michael clenched around me in response, and I let out a low growl.

I pulled on his hair, and his voice reached a higher, desperate pitch. I loved it. I loved making this man, who was much larger than me, break like that. I loved that his masculine composure vanished the moment I was inside him. “Michael,” I gasped, unable to find any other words.

“Oh, Sebastián, keep going!” His voice was breathless, fragmented. I felt a jolt of electricity in my dick and picked up the pace. Soon, I filled him with my cum, some of it dripping from his entrance. He clenched tight as I finished, and it was the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced.

I pulled out, and he began to stroke himself, turning around to face me. “You didn’t cum?” I asked, feeling a flash of frustration.

He shook his head. “I’m close. Do you want to help me?”

I pushed my frustration aside, took him by the hip, and pulled him against me. I gripped his meaty ass and began to stroke him rapidly. As we kissed passionately, he pulled my hair and rubbed my body. He pinched and rolled my nipple, drawing an involuntary moan from me. I could feel the grin on his face.

Soon he moaned back, and his dick pulsed. He splashed us both with his cum. Afterward, he hugged me lazily.

“I need to get back to my room,” I said regretfully.

We took a quick shower, rinsing each other’s bodies. I loved the feel of him under my hands, and he clearly enjoyed the same.

Before I sneaked away to my room, Don Michael cleared his throat. I turned to see him. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “See you tomorrow.”

I nodded, feeling a sudden, sharp ache in my heart as I left.

All characters are 18+.

Note: 'Don' in Colombia is like calling someone 'Mr.' in English.

After Ron spent ten minutes screaming at me over an "undelivered deliverable," only to offer an apology that didn’t even begin to compensate for the tirade once he realized I had delivered it, I informed him that I would be in a remote area for my vacation and his calls wouldn't reach me. I hung up on him and shut my phone down. If he wanted to fire me, fine by me.

The flight and connection hadn't been too long. The drive toward this remote destination offered scenic views of lush forests and beautiful shorelines. It wasn't a sunny day; it was overcast, and I was told that this tropical paradise was more often cloudy than not. A quirk of Colombia’s Pacific coast.

“Good morning, sir. Allow me,” a voice said in Spanish. A staff member, no older than nineteen, took my luggage. He was slim and tall, yet clearly strong, carrying my heavy bags for five minutes along an unpaved road.

He showed me to my room. It was basic but beautiful, featuring a high wooden ceiling, native decorations, and a hammock on the terrace. He handed me a walkie-talkie to use for requests, his hand enveloping mine as he showed me which buttons to press.

Then, he finally looked me in the eyes. They were beautiful: a particular shade of blue that betrayed his mixed heritage despite his obsidian skin. “Do you need anything else?” he asked, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Yeah, what activities do you have for today and tomorrow?” I asked.

“Well, at 7:00 p.m., we have a salsa workshop. It’s a good way to meet beautiful girls.” He gave me a naughty smile, his eyes drifting toward my bulky arm. “Tomorrow we have surf school at 9:00 a.m. and whale sightseeing at 2:00 p.m. You can rent jet-skis or kite-surf any time during daylight hours.”

Our conversation remained professional as he detailed the hotel's services. “Well, thank you for everything…”

“Sebastián,” he offered.

“Sebastián,” I repeated. I pulled off my shirt. “I’ll take a nap and come to the salsa classes later.” His eyes flicked toward my abs before snapping back up to my face. I smiled at him, and he departed. I took my medication and collapsed onto the bed.

It was one of the best naps I'd had in years. I was finally able to relax and sleep soundly, free from the worry of commits, bugs, and Ron’s mood swings. When I woke, I headed to the bar for a Bloody Mary and waited in the open-air hall for the salsa class.

I struck up conversations with a few guests. Most were Europeans and some locals. Indeed, the girls were beautiful, and so were the guys. In the course of conversation, I casually mentioned that I was gay. One girl looked visibly disappointed, and none of the men seemed interested. Shame.

When the instructor arrived, things went poorly. I had zero musicality; my rhythm was completely out of sync with the beat. I wasn’t alone, but we all looked clumsy compared to the locals, whose movements were fluid and natural.

It improved slightly, enough for the instructor to deem us ready for partner dancing. While the local men were in sync with the girls, I struggled. My energy clashed with my partner's. A local girl eventually called me out, telling me I was hurting her, and I burned with embarrassment.

“Don Michael!” a voice called. I turned to see Sebastián. “Don Michael, there seems to be a problem with your paperwork. Could you please come with me?”

My humiliation was instantly replaced by worry. I followed him out.

Suddenly, he took my hand and pulled me behind a wall, out of sight. The only light came from the hall. “Don’t worry, Don Michael, nothing happened with your paperwork.”

I frowned, confused and slightly irritated. He let go of my hand. “It just looked like you may need a rescue.”

Once I processed his words, I nodded with a small, albeit slightly annoyed, smile. “I see. Thank you. But I won’t get any better if I leave.”

I motioned to go back, but Sebastián gripped my hand. There was a glint in his eye. “I will help you get better. I can give you a few pointers.”

The choice between returning to a group class or staying with a private tutor who happened to be a cute guy was obvious. I gripped his other hand. “Would you really do that for me?”

“Sure. Me caes bien,” he said. The phrase roughly translated to “I like you” in a friendly context, but I suspected that, whether Sebastián knew it or not, it wasn’t just friendly.

The class went much smoother. He pointed out exactly what I was doing wrong and how to correct it. “In dancing, you aren’t forcing the follower to obey your commands. You direct their energy. It’s important to listen to them.”

I nodded. “Like sex.”

Silence fell for a moment. Then Sebastián laughed out loud, as if it were the best joke he’d ever heard. The tips of my ears turned red, but I grinned anyway. “I guess that's one way to put it,” he said, placing his hands on mine and starting to dance again. “Are you good at sex?”

“Not to brag, but I am. At least, the guys I’ve been with tell me so,” I explained.

Sebastián stopped. He looked at me, wide-eyed. “Guys? Not girls?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

Sebastián remained silent for a moment before shaking his head. “No. It’s just... I’ve never met someone with that lifestyle before.”

I took a deep breath and began dancing again. “It’s not a choice. You don’t decide who you like.”

Sebastián stopped dancing. He looked down at his feet, then dislodged his hands from mine. “Sorry, I’m not—”

I clicked my tongue. “I know the customs here.” Sebastián wouldn’t look at me; he just clenched his fists. “Dancing doesn’t mean you want to bang someone. Not necessarily.”

I stayed silent. It was a second chance to keep the relationship friendly, but he didn't take it.

I turned around and rejoined the class. Sebastián's pointers had worked, and I was doing better. Precisely because I was better, I couldn't push him out of my mind for the rest of the session. Even when the teacher congratulated us and the class celebrated, the sting of Sebastián's rejection remained.

I drank more than usual while hanging out with the group afterward. Not enough to get wasted, but enough to stop thinking about Ron, my job, and Sebastián.

The resulting headache was an inconvenience the next morning. My breakfast consisted of broth and eggs per the waitress's recommendation, and then I headed to surf school.

I was a natural. I’d never picked up a surfboard in my life, but it seemed some latent skateboarding ability from my teens helped me adapt quickly. On my first try, I managed to ride a wave.

Several people in the class congratulated me. It was a fun morning, until I started feeling dizzy. Around 11:00, I returned to the shore and told the instructor I felt ill. When he asked for my symptoms and I mentioned I had missed my morning pill, he looked at me like I was an idiot.

Not wanting to risk me fainting in the water, he immediately called a staff member. To my chagrin, it was Sebastián.

The walk back to my room was awkward. Sebastián made no attempt at conversation, but he hovered closely. Once, when I swayed, his firm hands caught me. I shrugged him off and continued walking.

When we reached the room, I collapsed onto the sofa. “The pills are on my bedside table.”

He moved through the room; I heard the crinkle of glass and the sound of running water. I felt his presence beside me. “Don Michael,” he said.

I lifted my head and took the glass of water and the pill, then collapsed back. “Thank you,” I muttered.

If I felt better in an hour, I could still see the whales. I focused on resting until a voice interrupted me.

“Don Michael,” he said. I groaned without lifting my head. “It’s not the best time, but... I’m sorry about yesterday.”

My voice sounded irritated. “Sebastián, look, I’m not going to process this right now. Talk to me after I get back from the whale watching.”

His swallow was audible. “Okay,” he replied, sounding strained.

As predicted, I felt better. I had lunch with the group, who fuzzed over me, and then we set out to see the whales. They were beautiful, but the spiritual experience was turned into a comedy by some of the guys.

One man fell off the boat, and another jumped in after him. I laughed as they fought in the water instead of being rescued. Then another guy picked me up and threw me in; the girls followed. Music started playing, and we played a ridiculous game. In short, it was a great time.

When I returned, I was in a high mood. I walked back to my room, intending to shower before a night out with friends, and found Sebastián waiting at the entrance. I unlocked the door, gestured for him to enter, and stepped inside.

“I’m listening,” I said, popping a beer from the minibar.

“I’m sorry. You were right—friends dance with friends all the time. I was being an asshole,” he said.

I nodded and took off my t-shirt. I sprawled across the sofa, looking at him. His eyes wavered, unsure if eye contact was too much or if he wanted to ogle my body.

“Why go out of your way to apologize? We’re just strangers.”

His arms tensed. “I hoped we could be friends.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I bet you don’t want to be friends with every guest on the property. What makes me special?”

He remained motionless, refusing to look at me. “It just is, okay?”

I shook my head. “It’s not okay.” I exhaled. “Look, nothing you say or do here tonight will leave this room. But I want you to be honest. What do you want from me?”

The silence was heavy. Sebastián shifted his feet, murmuring something inaudible. I took another sip of my beer, willing to wait.

Finally, he muttered something.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Do you promise?” he asked, his voice small.

I understood. “I swear I won’t say a word to anyone. It will be our secret,” I said.

Sebastián walked stiffly toward the sofa and sat beside me, leaning in. I enveloped him with one arm, rubbing his shoulder. He didn't look at me yet, but slowly, he relaxed into the embrace. Then, he melted.

“Come here,” I said.

Telegraphing my move, I took him by the hips and pulled him between my legs. I hugged him against me, pressing his back against my chest. I saw his erection tenting his jeans in response; I pressed my own dick against his back.

He tensed immediately. However, after a few seconds of stillness, he accommodated himself, pressing back against my bulge.

I rubbed slowly against him. I kissed his neck and stroked his arms, drawing a moan from him. I lowered my hands to the hem of his shirt. “Your clothes are in the way,” I whispered in his ear, taking my time to lift the fabric, grazing his skin as I went.

He raised his arms as I reached his ribs. I took my time until his back was laid bare. I explored him with my hands, his ragged breaths filling my ears. I hugged his stomach, rubbing circles into his sides.

I sucked on his neck, the sounds he made sounding beautiful. I had to restrain myself from leaving hickeys. He arched his neck to give me better access, and I continued. Then, I lifted my head and made eye contact.

He looked at my lips, then back to my eyes. Slowly, I leaned in. The first kiss was chaste, then I tilted his head and began making out with him properly. He twisted, his hands exploring my back, then my abs, before gripping my chest. I moaned in response and pushed my tongue into his.

He moaned and began grinding. I had to stop kissing him because the fabric of his jeans was frustrating. I made him stand, then trailed my mouth down his body to his stomach. I unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down; he stepped out of them, his boxers already wet with precum.

I didn't touch his erection yet. Instead, my mouth traveled down his leg and then back up, my tongue tracing a path upward. Then, my hand climbed slowly, sliding inside his boxers to grip his length.

I jerked him slowly. He began to thrust impatiently against my hand. When I withdrew, he whimpered.

I bit my lip. “You are so cute.” His eyes snapped into focus. “In fact, you’re the cutest guy I’ve been with. And I’ve been with a lot.” He licked his lips hungrily, staring at my mouth.

Instead of kissing him again, I pushed him onto the sofa and climbed on top of him. I pulled my shorts down, my erection in front of him.

I lowered my hips, and he took me into his mouth. Then, I rolled his boxers off. His erection stood proud before me, and I licked the tip. He moaned against me. I took his length into my mouth and began to suck.

He imitated my technique, keeping his teeth clear, wrapping his tongue and lips around me with a few twists.

Soon, I began to thrust involuntarily, and he did the same. I reached around to his ass and teased his entrance with my fingers. He moaned against my erection,

sucking more energetically. I was getting close.

I pulled out for a moment, coated my fingers in spit, and went back to his erection. I introduced one finger into his hole, and the vibrations of my own arousal intensified. Once I bottomed out, I massaged his spot in tandem with my sucking.

He became a mess. His moans were incessant, his rhythm fast and erratic. I felt his dick pulse, and he came in droves into my mouth. I swallowed and let go of his softening length.

I repositioned us; he sat up while I gripped his head, guiding his mouth back to my erection. I started gently, then picked up the pace until he began to gag.

I paused for a second, looking into those striking blue eyes. “If you want to stop, tap me twice,” I whispered.

He shook his head, a small sound escaping his throat. He wanted this. Encouraged, I took control, guiding his head with a firm but steady grip as I began to throat-fuck him. He leaned into it, his hands sliding up to my waist to pull me closer, attempting to take as much of me as possible.

“I’m cumming!” I yelled. He gripped my ass as I filled his mouth with my seed. “Swallow every last drop,” I ordered as I continued to pulse. He did. Nothing was wasted.

I remained naked, intending to go to the shower, while he dressed. Before he left, I looked at him. “If you want to reinforce our friendship, you know where to find me.”

Sebastián smiled. “Sure, Don Michael.”

Gian and Army are 18, Bruno is 25

I shot a text to Army the moment my workload for the day was finally cleared.

Bruno: How is the paperwork for the club coming along?

Know-it-all Brat: It’s done. I’m in [college classroom]. Do you want to come?

Bruno: Be ready.

I had to hand it to the kid; he was talented. He was a handful, certainly, but an asset despite that.

As I reached the classroom door, a rhythmic, wet clapping sound echoed through the hallway. I didn’t need to see inside to know exactly what was happening, and I was not amused. I swung the door open to find Gian with Army bent over a desk, both of them stripped from the waist down. Gian’s pale, toned ass was angled toward me, his body obscuring Army’s prone form. Even as the door slammed open, Gian didn't stop; he kept driving into Army, the sound of their impact punctuating the silence of the room.

Army didn’t turn his head, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He knew I was there.

“I told you to be ready,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous warning.

“Relax, Cap,” Gian quipped, glancing back over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “You love watching us.”

I took a slow, steadying breath. “This is a classroom,” I reminded him, the threat implicit in my tone.

“You literally run a sex club out of an abandoned sports building every Friday, Bruno,” Army countered. His voice wasn't loud, but it was laced with a daring kind of disrespect. “When you do it, it’s ‘leadership.’ When we do it, it’s a problem.”

Two brats. Both of them were pushing me on purpose, testing me. Since they were eager for discipline, I was happy to provide it. I locked the door with a decisive *click*, dropped my bag on the floor, and marched toward them.

I ripped Gian off Army with a harsh tug, manhandling him until he was bent sharply over my knee.

“Bruno—” he started.

I silenced him with a stinging slap across his ass. He hissed, his erection jolting against my leg. “Count,” I commanded.

He obeyed instantly, his voice strained. By the time he reached ten, his skin was a flushed, angry red. By twenty, tears were pricking the corners of his eyes.

“You don’t make me wait,” I said, delivering another sharp strike.

“Yes, sir... twenty-one,” he gritted out.

“And you don’t give me attitude.” This time, I put my full weight into the blow. Gian’s body shuddered, and a streak of precum splattered against my leg.

“Yes, sir... twenty-two,” he whimpered.

I let him go, but only to bend him over the desk. “Don’t move a muscle until I tell you to.”

I turned my attention to Army. He was still hard, chest heaving as if he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime. He was a different breed of brat; manhandling wouldn’t do. I simply patted my knee.

Army approached me slowly, his eyes darting between my face and my leg with suspicion. Finally, he succumbed, lowering himself stomach-down across my thigh, leaving his backside arched and exposed to the air.

My hand came down hard. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. “One,” he gasped. I smirked.

I kept the rhythm steady and punishing. By the tenth slap, he was trembling, on the verge of tears, yet his cock was leaking profusely onto my pants. I rested my palm against his heated skin, feeling his heart racing.

“What did you tell me?”

“That the paperwork was ready, sir.”

“And what did you do?”

“I fucked Gian... so that you would find us like this.”

I sighed. Army was transparent, which made him both adorable and infuriating. “So, you wanted my attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

I delivered one last, stinging slap. “Well, you have it.” I growled, sliding a finger along the rim of his heat. He took a sharp, jagged breath. “Is this what you wanted?”

Army’s mouth opened and closed. I punished the hesitation with another slap. “Speak.”

“Yes, sir! I mean—no, sir! I was hoping you would...”

Another slap. “Don’t keep me waiting, brat.”

Army squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, finally surrendering to the impulse. “I want you to double penetrate me with Gian!”

The request hung in the air. I looked down at his flushed face, then over at Gian. Gian was still pinned to the desk, but he was watching me with a look that clearly said: I will be ten times more annoying if you don’t give my boyfriend what he wants.

I realized then that taking these two under my wing had been a mistake. Yet, the mere thought of it sent a surge of heat straight to my groin. Double penetration.

“And did you prepare for that?” I asked.

“I have poppers in my pouch,” Army whispered, his voice thick. “And I’ve been stretching with the DP plug... sir.”

I hauled him off my leg and bent him over the desk next to Gian. I unzipped my pants, sliding my length against his already lubricated entrance. He was significantly looser than the last time I’d had him; the kid had actually done his homework.

I pulled him upright. “Gian, stand up.” I gripped Army’s legs, lifting him so his ass was positioned directly over my erection. “Lubricate us both. Now.”

Gian produced a lube packet from his pocket, slicking both of our shafts with practiced efficiency. He stroked us both, his eyes gleaming. “Hold our erections together, pointing up,” I ordered. Gian complied, pressing his length firmly against mine.

“Poppers. Now,” I commanded. Army inhaled deeply from the vial, and I could almost feel his muscles relax and open further.

Slowly, I lowered Army. He let out a long, shuddering groan as he took the combined girth of both of us. It was a tight, staggering fit. The sensation of my cock pressing against Gian’s, both of us encased in Army’s pulsing walls, was intoxicating.

As he bottomed out, Army let out a sigh of pure relief. I waited a full minute, letting him adjust, before I began to experimentally bounce him. He moaned like a broken thing. The sound drove me wild; I picked up the pace, my hips rocking with a primal urgency. Gian began to moan as well, feeling the friction of my shaft sliding against his.

I pushed harder, the rhythm becoming frantic. Army’s cries grew loud enough to risk bringing the whole building down, but I didn't care. With one final, powerful surge, Army’s body convulsed, and a spray of cum flew through the air, landing across Gian’s face and hair.

I groaned in satisfaction, but I wasn't finished. I kept the momentum going, driving into him even as his dick flopped, spent. Gian’s hands gripped my hips, his breath coming in ragged hitches. I knew he was on the edge.

“You don’t cum until I do,” I ordered. Gian whimpered, his grip tightening.

I drove forward one last time, my vision blurring. “I’m cumming!” I roared. We both emptied ourselves simultaneously, our seeds mixing inside Army’s shaking frame, our dicks pulsing against each other. Cum fell to the floor and on my pants.

As my heart rate calmed, I lowered Army to the floor and stepped back, leaning against a desk to recover. “Come here,” I breathed.

They didn't hesitate. They converged on me, leaning into my space. Army pressed himself as close as possible, while Gian fisted my shirt, resting his head against my chest.

"I do have the paperwork, by the way, "Army said, his voice nervous.

I wrapped my arms around them. “Brats.”

Gian lifted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Keep praising us like that, and we might just turn into a throuple.”

I patted his back, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

This story is a bonus: Main universe

Part 1

Part 4

TLDR: The Narrator (Army) joined an Erotic Oil Wrestling Club and they are exhibitionists. Gian is Army's best friend, fuck buddy, and the one who introduced him to the club. Bruno is the leader, and he is into dominance.

The first match was set: Prince versus Fons. I managed to get back to the ring just in time, but not before the club members handed me a brand-new bulb. I had to douche—a rule I didn't dare question. It hadn't occurred to me at first, but the way Bruno had handled Gian and Kevin without any mess, the logic clicked.

On one side of the ring stood Prince. He was pale and slight of frame, though his muscles were lean and sharply defined. His hair was a shock of intense, dyed red, and he wore nothing but a pair of tight red briefs.

Opposite him was Fons. He towered over Prince—and was taller than me as well. With a black faux-hawk and skin with warm undertones, he possessed a lithe, athletic build with toned abs, dressed in long black sports shorts.

“Start!” Bruno yelled.

They collided instantly. I expected Prince to be steamrolled by Fons’s size, but he was deceptively agile. Through sheer technique, Prince managed to hold his own for thirty seconds before he was finally driven onto his back. Fons attempted to pin him, but Prince expertly used his legs to keep Fons at a distance, scrambling back to his feet with a desperate, athletic grace.

They clashed again, and this time Fons managed a decisive takedown. He caught Prince, pinning the smaller man's legs above his own shoulders. With a quick movement, Fons yanked Prince's briefs up just enough to expose his ass.

“Oil!” Fons shouted.

Kevin stepped into the ring, his erection fully exposed to the crowd. He poured a generous amount of oil over them before stepping out again.

“Good boy,” Bruno murmured, resuming his slow stroking of Kevin.

Prince’s entrance was a perfect, hairless shade of pink. Fons’s member was so long that I doubted it could even fit, but he didn't hesitate. He pushed inside, sliding deep until he bottomed out. Prince’s breath became ragged, tears of intensity pricking the corners of his eyes.

“One minute!” Bruno announced, glancing at his phone.

Fons didn't just hold him. He stroked Prince’s hair and rubbed a thumb soothingly against his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “You did so well, babe... those pretty little briefs turn me on so much... your ass is just perfect.” He leaned in and kissed Prince deeply, their tongues tangling. Prince moaned, his body trembling as he struggled to stay still.

“I’m so confused,” I whispered to Gian. “Why is he saying all that?”

Gian smirked. “We call him Prince because he likes to be treated like one. The praise and the pampering make him cum faster. It’s strategic.”

I was stunned. I had thought this was just a silly sex game, but there was a genuine strategy to it. It made sense—without depth to the game, you wouldn't keep coming back.

Prince began to reciprocate enthusiastically, but as he did, I noticed something. He was discreetly wiping his palms against the fabric of his briefs, scrubbing away the oil as thoroughly as he could.

Bruno’s alarm blared. “Time’s up!”

Suddenly, Prince executed a strange lock, hooking his arms and hands firmly against Fons’s back. Fons tried to pound into him, but the angle was awkward. He attempted to pull away from Prince’s mouth, but the smaller man had an iron grip, clinging to him with surprising strength.

“Did he just remove the oil from his hands so he could grip better?” I asked.

Gian nodded, looking impressed. “What a genius!”

Fons eventually gave up the struggle, and it was Prince's turn to take control. He rocked his hips up and down, his glutes clenching visibly with every stroke. Now, it was Fons's turn to moan.

The momentum shifted one last time. Fons planted his hands on Prince’s back and, with a surge of effort, stood up. Prince was left suspended in the air, held up by Fons’s arms and impaled by his dick. Fons gave a few rhythmic bounces, and Prince let out a sound of pure ecstasy. Fons synced his hips with the movement, and Prince’s muffled moans grew louder and more desperate.

Prince’s dick was leaking so much precum that his briefs were completely soaked through. Every second was a revelation; I felt like a complete amateur watching them. They stayed in that position for several minutes, a testament to their endurance.

Slowly, Fons began to lose momentum. He moaned deeply into Prince’s mouth, his movements slowing to a halt. But Prince didn't stop. Even while suspended, he used his grip on Fons's back to bounce himself on the dick.

Fons attempted to let him go, removing the support for Prince’s legs. Prince’s legs immediately latched onto Fons’s waist like a koala. Despite the oil making the grip slippery, Prince did his best, bouncing up and down with a determined struggle.

Finally, Fons let out a guttural groan. He gripped Prince’s hips tight, rolling his hips as he filled the smaller man with his seed.

“Prince wins! Bow to your highness!” Bruno announced.

Instantly, everyone, including Gian and Bruno, bowed. I chuckled and joined in.

Prince broke the kiss, and Fons lifted him just enough for his dick to slide out. Cum dripped out of Prince’s ass. Before he could say a word, Fons dropped him onto the mat. He took the red briefs fully off, revealing Prince’s modest erection, and pinned Prince’s arms down.

Fons dove down to his cock. Prince moaned, his hips arching, his legs kicking wildly in pleasure.

“Cum! Cum! Cum!” the crowd began to chant. Without thinking, I joined in, the rhythm taking over.

Prince’s legs wrapped around Fons’s neck, pulling him closer. Fons worked him relentlessly until finally, Prince screamed, “I’m cumming!”

The group erupted in cheers. Fons stood up, wiping his face with a satisfied look, and tucked his softening member back into his shorts. His friends swarmed him, slapping his back and climbing on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Prince’s friends invaded the ring, hoisting him up in celebration. Two of them held him up on their shoulders, creating a human throne while Prince raised a fist in victory. I laughed. They took this so seriously it felt like a professional league.

“Guys!” Kevin’s voice cut through the chaos. Everyone turned to him.

“Thank you, Kevin,” Bruno said, though he was still stroking him. “Next fight. Get to your positions.”

The crowd dispersed and returned to the circle. “The next fight is Army versus Shiv.”

Gian slapped my ass. “Go on, Army. I’m rooting for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “But would you actually bet on me?”

Gian gave a non-committal shrug. I pushed the jerk away and walked toward Shiv. We stared each other off in close proximity. Then Kevin came, and poured oil over us. Shiv started spreading the oil all over my body. I mirrored him.

I took my time sliding my hands through his ebony skin, feeling his strong yet slim muscles. Just as I was exploring his abs, he stroked my erection. I rocked my hips against his hands, he then moved to my ass just as I moved to his back. He brought his hands back up, doing circles on my pink nipples, and sliding his hands down on my smooth stomach.

When we were done, we walked to opposite sides of the ring. Shiv smirked at me, while I kept my gaze determined.

“Start!” Bruno yelled.

Shiv immediately attempted a tackle, but I parried the attack, diving for his legs. He had the height and weight advantage, but I knew a thing or two about takedowns. For a few exchanges, neither of us gave an opening, until Shiv became too insistent, throwing his full weight onto me.

I seized the moment. I pivoted, driving my hip against Shiv’s and throwing him flat on his back.

“I taught him so well!” Gian yelled from the sidelines.

I immediately threw myself on top of him. I used my legs to pin his arms, keeping my ass high enough that Shiv could still breathe. I shifted forward, fumbling with my hands to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. I pulled his dick out and began stroking him rapidly.

The audience went wild.

“Come on, new guy! Make Shiv cum!”

“This is the fastest anyone’s ever gotten to business with Shiv!”

But the oil was Shiv's advantage. His arms slid free of my legs with ease. Before I could react, I found myself flipped. Suddenly, I was upside down, but still clinging to his cock with my mouth. Shiv buried his face in my ass, stroking me under my shorts.

It became a battle of technique, and I was losing fast. The heat in my groin built up with dizzying speed. When Shiv squeezed my balls a few times, it was game over. I came hard into my shorts, the release feeling like an explosion after an hour of tension. I sighed, defeated, against Shiv’s dick.

“Shiv wins! This is the 19^(th) fight he has won in a row!” Bruno announced.

I heard the cheers, but I didn't stop sucking. I knew I had to do it eventually, so I decided to finish the job. The crowd began the chant again: “Cum! Cum! Cum!” Shiv let out a deep growl, and I added a few twists to my technique, focusing on the head.

“Oh god,” was the only warning I got before Shiv pinned my head and came violently in my mouth. My lungs seized up for a second, and I struggled to dislodge myself. When he finally let go, I was coughing up cum on the mat.

Shiv reached down and pulled me up into an embrace. I could feel his leg pressing against my wet shorts, and he didn't seem to mind. “Well done, new guy,” he whispered. His hand slid down, grabbing my exposed ass. “Look forward to our rematch, won’t you?” He gave me a devilish smile, and I returned a smirk.

He turned me around, pulled my shorts up, gave me one last slap on the ass, and pushed me toward Gian. Gian scooped me up, gripping me by my ass since it was the only non-slippery part of me. My cum-stained shorts pressed against his chest, but he just beamed at me. “That was awesome, man!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bruno interrupted. He was still stroking Kevin, his erection a raging red. I turned, and noticed Shiv was under a dog pile.

As the pile stood up and went back to their places, I walked over to Kevin. “How are you holding?”

Kevin shook his head grimly. “I thought it was impossible for a dick to get this hard. Hey Cap, can he touch it?”

Bruno pulled his hand away. I wrapped my hand around Kevin's erection, noticing it was harder to squeeze than before. I whistled. “Wow. That’s brutal.” I pulled my hand off, not wanting to make Kevin's situation worse.

“Start!” Bruno yelled, signaling the next match. Then he gestured for me to come closer.

I stepped closer, confused. “Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the match?”

“If I’m busy, Kevin referees.” Suddenly, Bruno pulled me into his lap. I yelped in surprise. He whispered in my ear, “Remember the rules, Army. We take hygiene seriously.”

He produced a napkin and carefully cleaned the front of my shorts, then reached beneath my boxers to clean my crotch, even pulling on my foreskin to be thorough. I felt my face heat up.

“I can do it myself, you know?” I muttered. “I don’t want people thinking I’m a baby.”

Bruno growled, gripping my hip tighter in a warning. “When you join the club, you become my boy.”

I shivered, but felt warm inside.

“And Army, I take care of my boys. You can ask me to stop, but I want it to come from you, not because of ‘what they’ll say’.” He looked me in the eyes, and didn’t allow me to turn away until I nodded. “And if anyone gets on your nerves, just ask them to stop.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you tell me, and I’ll handle it,” Bruno replied smoothly. He took my hand and guided it to his erection.

I was amazed. As I stroked him, I asked, “How can you be so old and cum so many times in an hour, yet still be this hard?”

He pulled my shorts down slightly and spanked my ass. It actually stung this time. “That’s for calling me old. I’m twenty-five. As for the rest... I’m just built different.” He flashed a toothy grin. “Want to guess what I’m planning to do with this?”

Despite being soft, I felt a surge of arousal. I shook my head.

“I’m going to get you hard again. You have to fight Gian later, after all.”

We stood up, and he kicked his chair back. He pulled me away from the ring and put me on all fours. He stretched me slowly and carefully, allowing my body to accommodate him. By the time he was halfway in, I was so hard it actually hurt.

“Does this have to do with those tantric techniques?” I asked, curious. “How you recover so fast?”

He rocked his hips, rubbing his dick directly against my prostate. “No. Tantra avoids the refractory period by preventing ejaculation. In this case, I just recover faster than most.”

“Wow,” I breathed.

Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving me with a whine of disappointment. He pulled me up and fixed my shorts. He palmed my crotch, confirming my state. “Hard as it should be. As much as I want to fuck you, you need to be prepared for Gian.”

I looked over at Gian. His expression was neutral—completely blank. I knew that look; it was never a good sign for his mental state. I quickly jogged back toward him.

Next up: Gian vs. Army (Finale)

All characters are 18+

The sheer physique of the boy in front of me hit me like a physical blow. He hadn't just worked out; he'd commanded his body into shape, every muscle carved with definition. Envy spiked through me as I took in the display — the sculpted back, the broad shoulders, the powerful legs, the undeniable curve of his ass, revealed by the simple cut of his boxers. He turned, and the collision of our gazes was electric.

The blue of my eyes locked onto his dark ones. I refused to look away: yes, I was looking at you, so? We held it for a beat too long before he averted his eyes, rubbing his nape. I held back from showing my own discomfort.

Instead, with a decisive motion, I ripped my jeans off and tossed them aside, shoving my shorts up my legs immediately. I threw my things into my locker and walked decisively towards the club's room. It wasn't a place you stumbled upon, as it was tucked away outside the main facility. The building itself was old and needed a fresh paint job.

"Oh, trust me," Gian had said. "This club is way better than the official wrestling classes. Our wrestling is special." I hoped he was right, because the presentation didn't suggest that at all. Rubber and sweat assaulted my senses as I opened the door, taking in the surprisingly spacious room we'd claimed.

I clapped Gian on the back. He turned, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you'd run off," he quipped, his tone dripping nonchalance, his eyes relieved.

"I'm not a coward, unlike you," I shot back, sticking my tongue out at him.

Gian's body coiled like a spring trap. His hand shot out, pinching my tongue and tugging a few inches before flicking my forehead. His voice dropped to a growl that vibrated sharper than annoyance. "Who are you calling a coward?" he demanded.

"You," I spat, pointing a finger directly at his chest. "You bailed on Calculus the second it got—"

He reacted instantly, parrying my hand and attempting to shove me down. But I wasn't someone to be bested easily. With a surge of raw energy, I dropped into a burpee, using the momentum to twist and lock with him. He managed to get his hip under mine, and in an instant, I was on my back, pinned beneath him. A triumphant smirk bloomed on his face as he hovered above me. I met his gaze, a burning glare fixed on him.

A sound from the other side of the room snagged my attention. "New guy," a voice cut through the tension, "I know you are eager, but we have to warm up first." A bearded blond with more muscle than height, radiating an easy confidence that spoke of years spent honing it, stepped forward. He looked no older than twenty-eight, and the others seemed younger by comparison.

Heat surged to my face, a familiar prickle of defensiveness mixed with anger. "He started it!" I snapped, indignant.

Gian let out a scoff. "You called me a coward."

"You didn't even try to complete—"

"Whatever the reason," the bearded man interrupted smoothly, extending a hand towards me, "you can bicker about it after we warm up." I resisted the urge to slap his hand away. Would it be disrespectful if I got up by myself now? I took his hand, and he effortlessly hauled me up. Then, he took me by the shoulders and spun me around. With a shove, he said, "Jog." We did laps around the room, and I made every effort to avoid looking at the guy from earlier in the locker room.

As the minutes dragged on, the continuous effort made me struggle to keep up with the pace. Instead of simply moving aside, the man behind me swept me up. He carried me in a bridal carry, his grip firm and surprisingly gentle as he moved us around the space. As soon as I processed it, I pushed at his big chest. He adjusted his hold to ensure comfort. "I have legs," I protested, my voice tight.

His expression remained unreadable. "And you were already spent. I'm just—"

"The point is the effort!" I retorted, pushing against him with renewed force.

The bearded guy spoke from behind. "Listen to him, Fons. He can't grow stronger by coddling him."

Fons sighed, releasing my legs. I struggled to regain my balance but quickly found my footing. He sped up, trying to overtake me, which would have been the reasonable first reaction. However, I sped up in defiance, refusing to let him win. Fons raised an eyebrow, which I met with a defiant glare.

The taste of copper lingered on my tongue, but I wouldn't back down. I dug deeper, pushing until the very end. A clap echoed through the room from the bearded man. "Well done, guys. Especially you…"

"Army," I managed to say between gasps, hands braced on my knees.

"Army. Hydrate. We begin exercises in two minutes."

A bottle of Gatorade was presented to me. I took it without hesitation. "Thanks," I said, wiping the liquid off my mouth. After a few sips, I slumped against the wall, my breath heavy. But Gian sat in front of me. With speed I wasn't prepared for, he shoved my face to his bulge, and then he used his legs to pin me in place. In response, a surge of something primal flooded back into me. Indignation overshadowing exertion, I pushed, acutely aware of every eye in the room.

"Stop it, Gian!" I yelled. Gian immediately released me, a frown creasing his face as if I was being unreasonable. Why would he do this in front of everyone? Why would my friend humiliate me?

He glanced around before whispering, "Army, we always roughhouse like this. Why are you—"

"Not in front of everyone!" I whispered back, my voice cracking with indignation.

Gian blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You don't have to worry about that here. I told you, the wrestling in this club… it's different." He tilted his head.

I frowned, my eyes narrowing. What was that supposed to mean? Gian held my gaze, and I met it with a hard stare before crossing my arms, turning away.

The bearded man called for everyone to gather in a circle around him. "Alright guys, for Army who doesn't know me, my name is Bruno. As always, we start with an exercise, then sparring. Take your shirts off."

I remained stunned, while the rest had already undressed. My eyes immediately locked onto Gian, whose chest and abs stole my attention. He walked towards me, and my gaze snapped up, quickly darting away. I saw Fons holding Bruno in a headlock, Bruno pinching a nipple on Fons's chest, rubbing it with a laugh. I thought I heard Fons growl.

"Come on, arms up," Gian commanded.

Slowly, reluctantly, I raised my arms. I didn't understand the compliance, but I did it anyway. As my skin was exposed, I instinctively crossed my arms over myself. "Army, hey," Gian said, his voice softer. I looked at him. He took my shirt and pulled it over his face, inhaling deeply. A flush of crimson flooded my face, but I held my gaze, refusing to look away. Gian bit his lip, tossed the shirt onto the floor, then placed his hands around my hips and lifted me into the air. I squeaked in protest, putting my hands on his head, pushing against him.

"So, do you believe me now?" Gian asked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

I scanned the room, seeing homoerotic play everywhere. The guy from the locker room had his bulge pressed against the ass of a smaller guy, who rocked his hips up and down. My throat went dry with lust. I looked at Gian, giving him the slightest nod of reluctant acceptance. The struggle ebbed away, and I rested my hands on his hair instead.

Then he did something that shattered any semblance of control. He buried his face in my stomach, his tongue tracing a path down to my navel. I squirmed, and an involuntary laugh escaped me. "Gian! Stop!" Instead of stopping, he blew a raspberry, and I started to thrash with helpless laughter. Finally, he released me. I kicked his ankle in a reflexive retaliation, and he fell to the floor with a soft thud.

"Hey! That's not fair! I was being good to you!" he protested, his voice laced with mock outrage.

I stuck my tongue out. Gian mimed a shark bite.

A clap. "Well guys, I'll show you today's example. Army, you will help me," Bruno said, hands on his hips. He made no effort to hide his hard-on, which pointed straight at me. I resisted the urge to gape. Instead, I met his eyes and slowly walked to stand beside him, holding the eye contact the entire time. "In four," Bruno ordered confidently. I swallowed, but did as I was told, as slowly as I could. The guys whistled, and my face was burning.

Bruno took my hips, and through the fabric, I felt the hard ridge of his cock teasing my entrance. My head snapped around, and I pushed him. "Hey! What the hell?!"

Bruno frowned. Slowly, he turned towards Gian. "You didn't tell him the rules?" Bruno asked, a quiet edge in his voice.

Gian shrugged, a sly grin on his face. "Nope. It's better when they find out in the heat of the moment," Gian said.

I swallowed and sat on the floor, so I wasn't presenting my ass to Bruno. "What rules?" I asked, serious, not letting fear into my voice. What I didn't expect was the slight excitement that leaked through it.

"I'll punish you later," Bruno said to Gian. Gian bit his lip, readjusting the waistband of his shorts. I could make out the shape of his hard dick.

Bruno turned to me, kneeling, but made no gesture to go near me. "Our wrestling isn't normal wrestling. It's oil wrestling. But the objective is not to make the other's back touch the floor, or classic submission. Instead, the goal here is to make the other guy cum first."

The shock made me gape. So that was what Gian was referring to. That horndog!

"There are many ways you can achieve this, including penetration," he said, a soft growl behind his voice. My ass clenched once, but I didn't feel afraid. Instead, I felt blood gathering in my groin. My head was swirling with the new information. "If you continue in this club, you will have sex in front of us."

For a few moments, there was a pregnant silence in the room. "I see," I said. Then I turned around and was on all fours again, conscious of how I presented my ass to Bruno.

There were whistles everywhere, and cheers. Then chanting. "One of us! One of us!" they chorused.

Again, I felt the heat in my face. But this time it wasn't shame. It was something much more pleasant. Belonging. The knowledge that these guys shared and accepted this part of themselves. More than that, they celebrated it.