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Shane was sitting at his desk nearing the end of the workday, closing a dozen tabs after researching the newest Ruining History episode. He was so looking forward to binging on popcorn and Netflix later that night, finally relaxing after a draining workweek, but before he could fully gather his things and stand up, a pair of hands forced him back into his seat before turning him around.
“Oh, hello, Steven,” Shane sighed, rubbing his eyes. Not now, he thinks. I was just on my way out.
“Hiya, Shane.” Steven, ever the enthusiast, was smiling and leaning on the empty desk behind Shane’s with his arms crossed. “I was—well, Andrew and I were thinking that, well, we haven’t really gone out in a while, and we were wondering if you were maybe free later tonight, say 8 o’clock?”
Scrambling for an excuse, Shane leaned back and stretched, rubbing his eyes. How does one say no to him? Oh God, you don’t.
“Uh, sure. Where am I meeting you?” Shane leaned forward, meeting Steven’s eyes, who scratched the back of his neck.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled nervously. This is gonna be such a bad idea. I’m gonna regret this so much later tonight. Why did I agree to this? What if Andrew’s not even there? What if— “Yeah, um,” Steven continued, “I was thinking Andrew and I would just come by yours around 7:40 or so and pick you up?” This is a trap.
“Yeah, okay, sure, sounds good.”
And so, because of that small interaction and impulsive decision, Shane was now standing in front of his closet at 7:15, trying to figure out what in the hell to wear. He had procrastinated getting ready for as long as he possibly could, which was a terrible idea, because Shane had absolutely no clue where they were headed. He needed at least 15 minutes to figure out what to wear when he knew where he was going, so really, he shouldn’t have waited this long.
“Fuck it, fine, fine, fine,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a go-to he knew he looked good in: jeans, brown boots, blue button-down (with a white undershirt), jean jacket, and a little beanie. He debated with himself, taking off the beanie and putting it back on again, before finally deciding to just go without it. By now, it was 7:32, and Shane was running around, trying to make himself look decent enough to go out.
He was finally ready and was just about to sit down at 7:39 when the buzzer to his apartment rang. “Shane? Steven said this was you—we’re outside. Grey car.” Andrew’s voice came through the speakers, crackly and low, echoing through the quiet hallway and into the living room where Shane sat. It’s just like them to be right fucking on time. A boy needs a rest.
Nevertheless, he grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone and headed out the door towards the elevator.
He opened the door and started scanning the immediate area for a grey car. There it is, he thought, and started loping towards the car idling a few feet away. Oh, fuck, backseat, he realized. Hope it’s not too long of a ride.
And it wasn’t.
Steven pulled into a parking spot on the street and Andrew turned to look at Shane with a smirk on his handsome face. “You look very tense. It’s just a short walk from here, promise.” As he turned around, Shane shook himself, attempting to maintain a façade of normality and fun before hauling his long legs out onto the sidewalk before the rest of him emerged. He waited, fidgeting, as Steven came around the side of the car. “Lead the way,” Shane smiled tightly, still wishing he was in sweats with a nice bowl of buttery popcorn and—
“Shane? Earth to Madej?” Shaking himself a second time, he turned to face Andrew with a light blush on his cheeks at being caught spacing out.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you’d ever been here before.” Andrew smiled, gesturing at the front of the building they’d stopped in front of. It was a brick building, simple, inconspicuous except for the line running out onto the sidewalk. The white neon sign above the sleek black double doors read The White Swallow. Shane looked up and around, drinking it all in, before responding, “No, no, I don’t think I have. What kind of place is it?”
Steven and Andrew shared a knowing look, causing Shane’s stomach to do a quick backflip before Steven smirked. “You’ll see,” he said; at the same time, Andrew said, “You’ll like it.” They all shared a quick laugh before turning towards the doors and bypassing the long line. “Uh… guys, shouldn’t we…?” Shane questioned, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the queue of people. “No, no, everything’s fine, Andrew knows the bouncer.” Shane was mystified as Steven dropped back to stand beside Shane as Andrew gave a quick bro-type hug to the bouncer and shared a quick conversation. They both stood there awkwardly as the people behind them began to grow indignant at the guys cutting who hadn’t even waited.
Finally, the muscle-bound bouncer reached over and undid the velvet rope (A fucking velvet rope? Seriously? What is this place?) to let them inside.
The doors swung open, revealing an interior that was not at all what Shane expected. He thought that he’d been taken to a Worth It spot, complete with velvet seats and $18 beer that Shane had never heard of. Instead, there were people milling about in a large, multilevel seating area that had a medium-sized, T-shaped stage at the center of it. As Shane took in more of his surroundings, he noticed that the beer he had, in fact heard of, and that it was actually quite reasonably priced.
Did they take me to an effing live music venue?
Seeing the look of distaste that Shane had tried to hide at seeing the stage, Andrew nudged Steven and chuckled. Steven looked at Shane, who had stopped in the middle of the walkway, the expression still on his face, and giggled along with Andrew. “Shane, seriously, you’ll like it. You think we’d take you somewhere we knew you’d hate?”
Caught again, Shane blushed and shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe you’d just forgotten?”
Steven giggled again and took Shane’s hand, dragging him off towards Andrew, who he hadn’t noticed had gotten them a table with a good view of the stage. After sitting down and ordering a drink, Shane didn’t feel quite so uneasy. Falling back into his old rhythm with the two other men was easy, especially when alcohol was flowing.
They talked for a while longer, laughing at Andrew’s wild stories, catching up on all they’d missed with Steven and Andrew being so busy lately. Shane was sitting at the back of the table, facing the stage, with Steven to his right and Andrew to his left. They began talking about something Shane wasn’t too well-versed in, so he sat back to let them go off, taking the opportunity to appreciate the décor. It was quite unassuming, with nice white tablecloths and yellowing glass lamps on the walls that cast a nice amber glow about the place. His gaze wandered to the ceiling, where a strip of spotlights hung, pointed at different spots on the stage. Speaking of the stage, people had been running about, dragging all manner of cables and equipment all around, going unnoticed by the people at his table. Gee, wonder what they’re for, Shane thought.
“I think they’re preparing for the show later tonight,” Steven butted in on Shane’s thoughts
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes, yes you did,” Steven laughed, shoving Shane playfully.
Show? There’s a show tonight?
“What kind of show is it?” Shane asked, crossing one long leg over the other, really trying to play it cool.
Another one of those looks passed between his companions, one of those nanna-nanna boo-boo, ”I know something you don’t and I’m for sure not telling you,” kind of looks.
Shane hated those looks.
“Fine, fine, don’t tell me,” he relented, putting his hands up in mock surrender.
And so it was, letting the topic sit on the table. The energy in the place was gradually become more and more electric as time went on, waiting for whatever kind of show was going to be put on.
Finally, a tall woman in taller heels came out onto the stage, long black hair waving, shoes click-clacking, and grabbed a microphone from a stand in the middle of the stage. She threw her weave over her shoulder and faced the audience.
“Welcome, lovelies! My name is Lois Price, and I’ll be your motherfucking host tonight, because apparently, the Jay Leno clone that runs this fuckin’ place doesn’t think I’m good enough to perform tonight,” she said, and everyone laughed, because she said this all while smiling. So she was joking, right? Right. “But that is neither here nor there! It’s time to put your sweaty, gay palms together for our first performer of the night, Tasha Salad!” and click-clacked offstage, her microphone cord trailing behind her.
Fuck kind of a name is Tasha Salad?
As Tasha Salad come onto the stage, Shane quickly found out what kind of a name Tasha Salad was,
Tasha Salad had a beard. A green beard. So really, Shane found out what kind of show this was, and was immediately embarrassed.
I mean, yeah, sure he was gay, but, like… he wasn’t that gay. Yeah, yeah, he really liked guys. A lot. But he hadn’t gone through all the rights of passage of a stereotypical baby gay.
He didn’t go through a crop top phase, he didn’t wear makeup at Pride, he didn’t say “yas” or “queen” or “work” or any combination of the three. And he definitely had never been to a drag show.
So, no, he hadn’t been to one of these before. But clearly, Steven and Andrew had. They had their singles out and waving, they were screaming, clapping, singing along, all of it. Shane didn’t know what the fuck to do. He didn’t bring near enough money to tip as well as he was apparently supposed to, and yes, he was wowed by all the kicks and flips and turns and tricks… but Lord, he didn’t know the first thing about drag show etiquette.
He was so awkward, and he was so tall, he didn’t want to stand up and block the people behind him, but it seemed rude not to stand and—ugh.
But being at your first drag show is such an experience. The lights, the sounds, the crowd, the energy. Shane was drinking it all in, finally forgetting his awkwardness, and when Steven finally tore his eyes away from the stage during a quick little intermission, he could see that Shane was at the beginnings of a good time. His face was flushed, ears were ringing, and a smile was plastered across his bearded face.
“See, now, we said you’d enjoy it,” Andrew ribbed him, a smile on his face bright enough to match Shane’s.
“Enjoy it? Holy shit, why didn’t I go to one of these before now?” He was rambling now, talking big and with his hands. “And that was just the first bit?”
“Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
And so he fucking hadn’t.
If he was wowed before, he was blown away now.
The tricks just kept coming; kicks, twirls, handstands, cartwheels, flips. He saw his first death drop that night and it was almost a religious experience—that was when he jumped to his feet, his chair knocked behind him.
After a few more performers, a few more drinks, a few more dollars, Lois Price came back to the stage.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and all others, this next performer is something very special. She’s beautiful, she’s sensual, but she is also so much more. She’s the first queen this club has ever seen, and by far the most popular. And, you know, a giant bitch.” Everyone laughed, and she continued.
“In all sincerity, I love this woman. So, babies,” she smiled, leaning forward, “open your minds, open your hearts, and especially open your motherfucking wallets for Our Lady Maria de Los Cruces!”
With that, she sauntered into the audience, sitting at a table of other queens that was right up near the stage. Someone dressed in all black, but with the added contrast of a shock of white hair, brought out a straight-backed wooden chair and placed it in the middle of the stage before quickly disappearing backstage.
And, really, as soon as Our Lady Maria stepped out onto the stage, Shane’s life was changed forever.
Oh my God, she is gorgeous.
That was the only thought running through Shane’s head as Maria came forward to the beginnings of Partition by Beyoncé. She walked gracefully, cat-like across the back of the stage to the center. She was wearing a back corset, laced up very tight, giving her an hourglass figure that was complimented by her gorgeous thighs that really didn’t need any padding. Black fishnet tights ran up the length of her toned legs, right up into a black lacy thong that disappeared into the crack of her ass when she sat backwards on the chair, legs spread. Though short in stature, Maria towered in her slick black platforms, complete with ribbons tied like a ballerina’s up to her knees. Above the corset was what was so entrancing; her matching black bralette was sheer, stretching over her pectorals, showing shiny, black, X-shaped pasties that added a campy allure to her sex-centric outfit. Her slender fingers were tipped with black, pointed nails, and gloves with no fingers ran from her knuckled to her elbows. The whole outfit was topped off by a long, flowing, wavy wig that fell over her muscular shoulders and down her back.
That chick has done some serious P90-X, Shane thought randomly through the haze of lust that had clouded his mind.
Maria came down a set of stairs attached to the front of the stage that had somehow escaped Shane’s notice before now and entered the audience. She draped her body artfully over a table just a few feet away and seeing her so close and so real made Shane’s dick twitch in his skinny jeans.
As she drew herself up, sternum first, she locked eyes with Shane. Her sultry gaze seemed to pierce his very soul, and the path it took seemed to travel straight to his gut, where a warmth was already spreading.
As she started coming towards him, all he could do was nervously hold out a few dollars as his friends hooted and hollered next to him. His hand shook as she came closer, and only shook further as she took his hand and pulled him out of his chair and turned around, still holding his trembling fingers in her warm and steady ones.
He looked like a baby giraffe walking for the first time as he followed dumbly towards the chair. He nearly fucking tripped walking up the stairs but managed to catch himself right at the last second to avoid embarrassing himself in front of everyone, thank his lucky stars.
She turned him and pushed him gently into the chair before straddling him with her back against him, rubbing her pert ass right against his crotch, immediately bringing him to half-hardness. Standing, her back still to him, she bent at the waist and reached under the chair to draw out a silky rope. The crowd went wild.
Stopping lip-syncing for a moment, she crossed behind him and whispered in his ear, “I can tell you don’t know what to do with your hands, baby, but I’ll help you out.”
Shane had been in this sort of situation before, believe it or not. He put his hands behind the back of the chair and clasps his hands together obediently.
“My good boy,” came a voice from behind, sending shivers racing down his spine and a snippet of heat to his dick.
His hands secured, Maria massaged his shoulders and pushed her hands down his front, stopping right above the waistband of his jeans. Her finger traced his belt buckle and he squirmed, his jeans rubbing in just the right way.
The part of the song came where Beyoncé spoke French, and Maria knew those words perfectly. Her full burgundy lips shaped the words like they were coming from her own mouth, opening deliciously and really, all Shane could think about was those plump lips stretched around the base of his cock, and he just couldn’t take it anymore—he moaned aloud.
A smirk graced those beautiful lips as she leaned forward and shaped the word “daddy” close to the shell of his ear, biting his earlobe to draw another small whimper from Shane’s own mouth.
“I love these sounds you’re making. So responsive for me.”
That tone alone could have made Shane cream his jeans then and there in front of God and the gays on a Friday.
As the song ended, Maria tugged expertly on the ropes and they fell away from Shane’s wrists as he stood.
Applause rang in their ears as Maria bowed then gestured for Shane to do the same.
“A round of applause for my willing victim,” Maria shouted, revealing a smooth voice that didn’t fit the lovely hips and full face of makeup at all. Still, Shane jogged down the staircase and back to his seats where he was welcomed with another, smaller, round provided by the occupants of his table.
“Damn, first drag show and you’ve already gotten a lap dance and shown off your very intense boner to the entire club,” Steven sniggered, eyeing Shane’s lap under the table with a laughing glint in his eyes. Shane blushed intensely (oh God, I did do that, didn’t I?). Andrew was not one to miss the look in Steven’s eye and smiled, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrist and pulling his ear right to his mouth. He said something quietly that made Steven turn a lovely shade of scarlet before sitting back with an embarrassed expression on his face.
After, ah, calming himself down as best he could, Shane left the two of them to fuck in the alleyway and walked towards the bar to get a drink and calm his racing nerves.
As he approached the bar and ordered, the same voice that had sent shivers down his spine earlier came from behind him. “Zach, my darling, drink’s on me. Lord knows I made enough tonight to foot the bill.”
Shane turned to find a short man, wearing a Henley and square glasses, standing confidently behind him, hands on hips. He was immediately recognizable even without the makeup—his luminous brown eyes were framed by long lashes that really didn’t need the help of the falsies he’d worn during the show. His full lips were stained from his burgundy lipstick, and if Shane leaned in closer, which he fully intended to, he would have seen flecks of glitter left behind around Maria’s waterline where the scrubbing hadn’t quite gotten to it.
“Hello, Maria… I don’t believe I caught your name?” Shane turned and smirked at the man, who crossed his arms, subtly showing off his large biceps.
Maria stepped towards Shane and stood up on his tiptoes to try and whisper in Shane’s ear, but is still too short, so he grabbed Shane’s neck and finally hit the right height.
“I’m Ryan, but I’d really like it if you called me baby.”
He leaned in to drag his mouth around Shane’ jawline as he said it, and Shane caught the scent of cold cream and sweat coming together in a tantalizing mix. Shane knew he had to have him, squirming underneath him, writhing on top of him, on his knees, on his stomach, any and every which way.
As Maria’s—no, Ryan’s, lips dragged over the beard that covered the lower half of Shane’s face, yet another fucking shiver ran down the length of his spine. Ryan seemed to be practiced in eliciting chills, because he knew exactly what to do and say to garner the slightest reactions from Shane, and those in turn seemed to fuel his ego. The remarks, the touches, the not-so-subtle eye-fucking became more and more overt, until Shane just couldn’t take it anymore.
He had been teased, touched, and strung out over the past hour as Ryan expertly played Shane like a goddamned piano.
He was sick of it.
The next time Ryan made a pass, Shane was ready. Ryan had leaned in while laughing at one of Shane’s not-really-that-funny jokes, placing his hand on Shane’s shoulder and dragging it down his front as he replaced it with his forehead. Before Ryan could lean back, Shane carefully but firmly placed his large hands on the back of the other’s neck and on the hand still lingered on Shane’s lap.
“My darling,” he began, and Ryan stiffened ever so slightly under his fingers. “My darling,” he repeated, “unless I’m mistaken, you’ve been sending me signals all night. Now, what say we get out of here?”
He leaned back and took his hands off Ryan, folding them in his lap over the bulge that had been lurking ever since the show, and even more so as the conversation had progressed. God, I hope he doesn’t see this. If he’s not interested… oh, fuck, oh, God, I—
“Yes, please.”
Shane’s anxious internal monologue ended with those two words. He stood as fast as he could, nearly knocking his bar stool backwards in his enthusiasm to fish a twenty out of his pocket and throw it on the counter.
Shane placed his hand on the small of Ryan’s back, where it fit almost perfectly, and ushered him out onto the street. Having been caught up in each other, neither had thought to call for an Uber, but really, it didn’t matter; there was a taxi driving towards them. Shane stepped out to the curb and waved frantically for the man to pull over.
Ryan climbed in first and handed his credit card to the man to swipe, Shane following close behind, never breaking contact with Ryan.
“Where to?” the cabbie said roughly, not even turning to look at the two men who were now sitting very close together in the back of his taxi. Ryan looked questioningly at Shane, who had decided much earlier that he wanted to take Ryan back to his home; he rattled off his address and moved his hand up the other’s thigh.
“Shane, not in the back of a cab,” Ryan whined with a playful edge to his voice, placing his smaller hand on top of Shane’s to keep it from traveling any farther.
“Whatever you say, baby.” Shane sat back with a smirk as a small shiver ran the length of Ryan’s spine at the pet name. Usually, it wasn’t such a big deal, but when Shane said it, low and gravelly like that, it ignited a fire in Ryan’s belly that simmered through the short ride to Shane’s apartment.
The two burst into the lobby, leaving the graceless cabbie alone for the night, and ran into the tiny elevator. Ryan looked up at the man who was clasping his hand and tapping his foot impatiently and nearly started laughing. He thought he had suppressed his little giggle when suddenly Shane smiled teasingly down at him.
“What’s so funny, doll?”
“Nothing, except the fact that you’re nearly hitting the ceiling with that melon of yours.”
“You’re just jealous, short stack.”
“Oh, right, yeah, okay, Mr. Sasquatch,” he scoffed, causing Shane to roll his eyes when he added, “And I’m five foot ten!”
“I’m about to go fuck you into my mattress and now you’re lying to me! Not a great way to keep this going, Ry, baby.”
“Fucker,” was all Ryan could muster in return, as Shane’s jab had reminded him why they were really here. Meanwhile, Shane was sitting pretty on his high horse, preening a little from having reduced Ryan to one measly “fucker.”
After what had seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors dinged open and Shane led Ryan down the hallway to his door. He let go of Ryan’s hand and turned toward the door, hands suddenly shaking trying to get the key in the lock as Ryan’s hands snaked around his waist and the beginnings of a full-blown boner were pressed into his ass. Well, okay, more about mid-thigh because Ryan was so goddamned tiny, but Shane could barely focus with those fingers tracing lightly over his belt buckle.
He finally managed to open the door for Ryan, who was barely inside before Shane was slamming the door shut and shoving Ryan against the wall. Shane placed wet, open-mouthed kisses to Ryan’ neck before moving right behind his ear and asking, “I’m going to mark you up, baby boy, so everyone will know who you belong to.” Ryan moaned and his knees nearly buckled as Shane did just that.
First, he found Ryan’s pulse point where his neck met his skull and began sucking a hard, dark bruise where no scarf could ever cover. His mouth wandered down Ryan’s jugular, nipping and teasing as his hands came down on Ryan’s ass, squeezing it and prompting him to jump up into Shane and wrap his legs about the older’s waist.
Shane gripped his thighs hard enough, Ryan hoped, to leave bruises as he continued his assault on Ryan’s neck, attaching to his collarbone and biting down.
After Shane was satisfied with the mark, he drew back to look at Ryan.
“How flustered you’ve gotten, and we’ve only been at it a few minutes,” Shane whispered endearingly, bringing his hand up and stroking Ryan’s face.
Shane was so composed, but as Ryan stared at him, he noticed a hungry gleam in his eye. Shane looked for a bit longer before attacking Ryan’s mouth with hot, wet kisses, their teeth clashing and noses bumping before Shane turned his head and pushed his tongue into Ryan’s waiting mouth.
It seemed Shane couldn’t tamp down his desire any longer as he pulled Ryan off the wall and carried him to the bedroom. His arms aren’t even shaking, Ryan thought. Ryan was no lightweight, and as he ran his hands along Shane’s arms, want burned ever hotter in his veins.
As soon as Shane set Ryan on the bed, Ryan broke the kiss to undo Shane’s buttons.
“Off,” he growled, frustrated that the buttons seemed to be totally against he and Shane’s mutual nudity.
“Here, let me.” Shane leaned back from where he had been crouched on the bed and deftly undid his shirt, taking it off along with the undershirt. He began to undo his belt before a tan hand came down and stopped him.
“My turn,” Ryan said, crawling off the bed and getting to his knees, then pulling Shane until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Ryan’s fingers made short work of the belt and he threw it behind him, hearing it clatter along the floor as it landed. Shane had been preoccupied with Ryan’s hands on his belt and now he looked up finally at the other man, marveling at his beauty and—When did he have time to take is shirt off?
Ryan pushed Shane’s knees apart and situated himself between them, taking Shane’s zipper in his teeth and pulling it down. He tapped on Shane’s hip and Shane lifted his butt so Ryan could take his jeans off.
Jeans and boxers discarded with the belt, Ryan turned back to Shane, who was leaning back on his hands, waiting for Ryan. Oh my God, his dick is huge. Easily nine inches and with a slight curve to the left, Ryan’s mouth watered at the sight.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Shut up, Shane.”
He took the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue along the tip and gathering the precum that had beaded there, then taking as much as he could at once. Shane heaved forward and carded his hands through Ryan’s hair and grabbing it at the roots. Ryan slackened his jaw, relaxed his throat, and let Shane take control, moving his head up and down, fucking his mouth.
Suddenly, Shane let go, pulling Ryan off. A string of spit connected Ryan’s lower lip to Shane’s cock. As Ryan made a move to keep going, Shane resumed his grip on Ryan’s hair.
“If we keep going like this, baby, I’m going to cum, and I don’t know about you, but I really want to fuck you properly before that happens.” Ryan nodded frantically and clambered back on the bed as Shane laughed aloud at his eagerness. He laid back on the bed and took off his joggers to throw them past Shane with all the other clothes they no longer needed.
“Christ, kid, you about hit me.”
“You’re about to put your dick in my ass and you’re calling me ‘kid’?”
“Eh, maybe not the best choice of words,” Shane conceded and shuffled up to take Ryan’s mouth in another short but bruising kiss. He dug around in the nightstand for lube and a condom, the latter of which he cast away after Ryan said, “I’m clean, and if you are too, I don’t want to use that.”
Ryan near drooled with anticipation as Shane squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and capped the bottle, placing it near Ryan’s head as he kissed him yet again to dull the intrusion of the first finger. The younger man hissed at the familiar burn, causing Shane to balk.
“No, no, no, keep going, I want this,” Ryan garbled, and Shane gladly continued. After a few minutes, he inserted another and scissored the two, making Ryan keen and push his chest up against Shane as he panted, “More, more, please, da—oh!”
Shane had just twisted his two fingers and finally hit Ryan’s prostate. “Again, more, please, Shane, more, I need it.”
“What was that you said earlier?” Shane said, a devilish little smile adorning his face.
Ryan was so embarrassed. He really didn’t mean to do it, and now he was worried Shane wouldn’t go for it. He hadn’t opened his eyes since the second finger went in, and he hadn’t seen Shane’s expression as he grew impatient and twisted his fingers again, purposely missing Ryan’s prostate.
“Daddy!” Ryan practically shouted, and Shane went even harder, pressing in a third and finally a fourth finger, abusing Ryan’s sweet spot before they even got to the good bit.
“There it is, baby, don’t hold out on me.” And with those words, Shane removed his fingers from Ryan and squeezed some lube onto his cock, stroking up and down. Ryan wiggled his hips in readiness as Shane pushed his knees up onto his chest.
Shane groaned as Ryan stretched around his cock and slowly pushed in. He was about halfway there before Ryan tapped on his shoulder and hissed, “Wait, wait, wait.”
“Take all the time you need, darling. We’ve got a lot more to go.”
And oh, wow, Ryan was feeling pretty good, but with those words, his cock began to weep precum.
“I’m ready, daddy, I can take it.”
Shane’s resolve snapped. He drew back until just the tip was inside and slammed his hips into Ryan’s heat. Ryan absolutely loved it; he felt so full, stuffed, impaled, on Shane’s cock. “Go, go.”
Shane set a brutal pace, putting his right hand behind Ryan’s knee and his left hand by Ryan’s ear and went in deep. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, coming together with the sound of moans and the creaking of the bed to create a cacophony that for sure was going to have Shane in trouble with the neighbors.
The drag of Shane inside of him had Ryan near tears. “Oh, daddy, please, there, again,” he screamed out as Shane slammed into his sweet spot. He clawed down Shane’s back and Shane felt skin break; it only made him want to go harder.
“You feel so good, baby boy, so good for me,” Shane grunted and flipping Ryan onto his hands and knees. He grabbed his hips and seemed to go even faster, even deeper than before.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy, Shane, oh God, can I come? I’m so close.”
He asked me permission? God, this boy is better than I thought.
Shane was taken out of his musings by more unintelligible babbling from Ryan. All he could make out was a mix of ‘please,’ ‘daddy,’ and ‘harder.’
“I want to see that pretty face when you fall apart,” Shane said, leaning over Ryan to whisper in his ear. He leaned back, pulled out (Ryan whined), and turned Ryan onto his back again. As he slowly reentered him, he cooed, “Go ahead, baby, cum for daddy.”
Ryan let go of all his control and let euphoria wash over him as his cum splattered over his stomach. A few thrusts later and Shane was cumming, buried to the hilt in Ryan’s tight heat.
He rolled over, taking out his softening cock, and Ryan groaned at the empty feeling.
“You did so well for me, baby boy, daddy’s so proud,” Shane said sweetly, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair. He scooted down the bed and licked up Ryan’s abs, tasting his cum and cleaning him before moving down even further.
“What’re you doing?” Ryan mumbled blearily.
“Shh, babe, I’m just cleaning you up,” Shane reassured him, and licked a stripe up Ryan’s hole. Shane dug his tongue into Ryan’s hole, slurping up his own cum as Ryan yelped at the overstimulation.
He moved up the bed and kissed Ryan, quieting his cries. Ryan could taste himself and Shane on Shane’s mouth, and he let out a quiet groan.
“I’ve never gone home with someone after a show before,” Ryan yawned, snuggling up to Shane.
“Bet you’re glad you did this time, huh?”
Ryan said nothing, only nodded, and both men had the same thought before drifting off to sleep:
I’m gonna get so much shit for this at work.