Mark shoved the door shut and yanked Tom by the belt. “Strip. Now.” His voice was low and rough, the same tone he used when he wanted his orders followed without question. Tom’s shirt hit the floor first, then his jeans, leaving him in nothing but tight black briefs that already strained around a thick, hardening cock. Mark didn’t wait. He dropped to his knees, hooked his fingers in the waistband, and dragged the briefs down. Tom’s cock sprang free, heavy and veined, the head already slick. Mark wrapped a fist around the base and swallowed the first few inches in one wet gulp.
Tom hissed, hips jerking forward. “Fuck, yeah. Suck it like you mean it.” Mark did. He took the shaft deeper, tongue flattening along the underside, spit running down his chin and dripping onto the floor. One hand pumped the part he couldn’t fit while the other reached between Tom’s legs to cup his balls, rolling them firmly. Tom’s fingers tangled in Mark’s hair, pulling him harder onto the cock until Mark’s nose pressed against trimmed pubes and his throat convulsed around the head. He gagged once, pulled back just enough to breathe, then dove down again.
“Turn around,” Mark ordered after a few minutes, voice hoarse. Tom spun, planted his hands on the edge of the bed, and spread his legs. Mark spat into his palm, rubbed the slickness over Tom’s hole, and pushed two fingers in without warning. Tom grunted but pushed back, taking them to the knuckle. Mark finger-fucked him fast, scissoring, stretching, adding a third finger when the muscle loosened.
“You’re gonna take my dick raw,” he said. “No rubber. Just my load in your guts.”
Tom’s answer was a low moan and a nod. Mark stood, freed his own cock—thick, cut, already leaking—and pressed the head against the loosened hole. He pushed. The crown popped past the ring and slid inside in one steady thrust until his balls rested against Tom’s ass. Tom’s back arched. “Goddamn, that’s deep.” Mark didn’t give him time to adjust. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, setting a hard, pounding rhythm that made skin slap and the bed frame creak. Every stroke dragged across Tom’s prostate; every withdrawal left the hole gaping for a second before Mark filled it again.
He reached around and grabbed Tom’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Precum smeared Mark’s palm. “You’re dripping like a faucet,” he growled. “You love getting used, don’t you?” Tom answered with a string of curses and pushed back harder. Mark switched angles, driving upward, nailing the spot that made Tom’s legs shake. Sweat slicked their skin. The room smelled like sex and musk.
Mark pulled out suddenly, flipped Tom onto his back, and shoved his legs up toward his chest. He sank back in to the hilt and started grinding deep, short thrusts that kept constant pressure on Tom’s prostate. Tom’s cock lay rigid against his stomach, untouched now, twitching with every thrust. Mark leaned down and bit the side of Tom’s neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Gonna breed you,” he muttered against the skin. “Fill you up till it leaks out.”
Tom’s hand flew to his own cock and jerked fast. His breathing turned ragged. “Do it. Fuck your load into me.” Mark’s hips snapped faster, balls slapping. He felt the pressure build low in his gut, then the rush. He buried himself to the root and came hard, pulse after pulse of thick cum flooding Tom’s hole. The heat and the stretch pushed Tom over; his cock jerked and sprayed ropes across his chest and stomach, some hitting his chin. Mark kept thrusting through both orgasms, pushing the cum deeper, making it squelch obscenely.
When the aftershocks faded, Mark stayed inside, rocking slowly, letting the overflow trickle out around his softening cock. He kissed Tom once, rough and open-mouthed, then pulled out and watched the pearly mess seep from the stretched hole. Tom lay there panting, legs still spread, hole visibly pulsing. “Round two in ten minutes,” Mark said, wiping his cock on Tom’s thigh. “I want you riding me next time. And I want pictures.”
Tom grinned, already half-hard again. “Camera’s on the dresser.” Mark reached for it, checked the lens, and aimed it at the wrecked man on the bed. The red light blinked on. “Action.”
