Jake spotted him across the dim bar, all broad shoulders and hungry eyes. The guy was built like he lifted for a living, dark stubble, tight black shirt stretched over muscle. Jake bought him a drink, and ten minutes later they were in the stranger’s apartment, door slamming shut behind them.
“Name’s Marcus,” the guy said, already yanking Jake’s shirt off. “You’re gonna feel this.”
Jake didn’t care about names. He shoved his tongue into Marcus’s mouth, hands grabbing the thick bulge in his jeans. Marcus spun him around, bent him over the kitchen counter, and ripped Jake’s pants down. No lube at first, just spit on his fingers and two shoved straight into Jake’s hole.
“Fuck, tight,” Marcus growled. He worked those fingers deep, scissoring hard until Jake’s cock was leaking on the floor. Then he freed his own dick, fat and veined, and pushed in raw.
Jake grunted at the stretch, forehead pressed to the cool counter. Marcus didn’t ease in. He slammed balls-deep on the first thrust and started pounding. Every stroke knocked the breath out of Jake. Marcus’s hips snapped forward, skin slapping loud, his cock dragging over Jake’s prostate until Jake was moaning like a whore.
“You feel that?” Marcus panted. “Every time you shoot, I take a piece.”
Jake didn’t know what the fuck that meant and didn’t care. He pushed back, meeting every thrust. Marcus reached around, jerked Jake’s cock in time with the fucking, rough and fast. Jake’s balls tightened fast. He came hard, ropes splattering the cabinet, body shaking.
The second his orgasm hit, something pulled. A hot, dizzy rush flooded out of him. His knees buckled. Marcus kept thrusting through it, grunting, “Yeah, give it up. Drain for me.”
Jake felt weaker already, like his muscles had turned to water, but his cock stayed hard. Marcus pulled out, flipped him onto the floor, and straddled his chest. He fed Jake his cock, fucking his throat while Jake’s spent dick twitched against his stomach.
Marcus came down his throat with a roar. Jake swallowed every drop, but the second Marcus finished, another wave of exhaustion slammed into him. His vision blurred. His arms felt too heavy to lift.
Marcus wasn’t done. He hauled Jake to the bedroom, threw him face-down on the mattress, and mounted him again. This time he fucked slower but deeper, grinding against Jake’s prostate with every roll of his hips. Jake’s cock rubbed against the sheets, getting hard again despite the fatigue.
“Gonna milk you dry,” Marcus muttered, voice low and filthy. He reached under, stroked Jake’s dick while he pounded. “Every load you give me makes you weaker. You’ll beg for it.”
Jake came again, messier this time, body jerking. The drain hit harder. His limbs went limp. He could barely lift his head, but his ass still clenched around Marcus’s cock like it wanted more.
Marcus flipped him over, lifted Jake’s legs onto his shoulders, and drove back in. Sweat dripped from his chest onto Jake’s. He fucked like a machine, eyes locked on Jake’s face, watching the energy leave him. Jake’s third orgasm ripped out of him with almost no cum left, just dry spasms and a broken moan. His whole body felt hollowed out, heavy, perfect.
Marcus leaned down, bit Jake’s neck, and unloaded deep inside him. The final pull was the strongest. Jake blacked out for a second, came to with Marcus still buried in him, both of them breathing hard.
Marcus pulled out slow, cum leaking from Jake’s wrecked hole. He ran a hand down Jake’s chest, smirking.
“You’ll be back tomorrow,” he said. “You always come back when you want to be drained again.”
Jake lay there, muscles trembling, cock soft and spent, a lazy smile on his face. He already knew Marcus was right.
