Jordan sat hunched at the bar, nursing his third glass of whiskey, the amber liquid burning a path down his throat. He'd been there for hours, eyes scanning the dimly lit room filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but his mind was elsewhere—trapped in a haze of forbidden images. Ortho. That soft, pale skin. The way his body had yielded earlier, slick and desperate. If he didn't get out soon, he'd march back home and pin Ortho down, fuck him raw until regrets drowned in the heat of it all.
He glanced at his phone—9:00 PM. Late enough. The alcohol hadn't dulled the ache in his groin; if anything, it sharpened the edges of his craving. He tossed cash on the counter and pushed through the door into the cool night air, sliding into his car. The drive home blurred by, streetlights streaking past as his thoughts churned. Cooling off? Bullshit. Ortho's face haunted him, those parted lips begging to be filled.
Pulling into the driveway at 9:30, the house loomed silent and dark. His pulse quickened—had Ortho bolted again? He moved through the rooms like a predator, checking closets, under stairs, the spots where Ortho always curled up to hide. Nothing. Heart pounding, he headed to Ortho's bedroom door, cracking it open. Empty bed, sheets rumpled but cold.
Did he run? How far could he get? The questions gnawed at him as he stalked to his own room, shoving the door wide.
Moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, casting a silvery glow over the space. At first, it seemed empty. Then his gaze snagged on the bed.
Ortho sprawled there, tangled in the sheets, black curly hair splayed across the pillow like ink on porcelain. His shirt had hiked up, baring the smooth dip of his waist, the flare of his hips, and—fuck—bare thighs leading to nothing. No pants, no underwear. Just that fair, flawless skin glowing under the pale light, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, lips slack and inviting.
Jordan froze in the doorway, breath hitching sharp in his chest. His cock twitched, hardening instantly against his jeans. He stumbled back a step, but his eyes wouldn't tear away. Ortho looked so vulnerable, so ripe—innocent sprawl twisted into something filthy, thighs parted just enough to tease the shadow between them.
Jaw clenched, Jordan spun on his heel, cursing under his breath as he bolted for the bathroom. What the hell is he doing in my bed? He stripped roughly, clothes hitting the tile in a heap, and cranked the shower to ice-cold. Water pounded his skin, needling like punishment, but it did jack shit to quench the fire. Images flooded him: Ortho's ass clenching around his cock, those whimpers echoing.
'Oh God, this is what I was running from,' he thought, hand drifting down despite himself. His fingers wrapped around his thickening shaft, stroking slow at first, then firmer as the fantasy took hold—plunging into that tight heat, marking every inch of pale flesh.
'Ah, fuck! This is not good.' The growl rumbled from his chest, thick with frustration. He pumped harder, thumb circling the head, pre-cum slicking his grip. But he forced himself to stop, panting, water sluicing over tense muscles. He's not for this. Not like that.
He snatched a towel, knotting it low around his hips, and stepped out, steam trailing him. But the sight hit like a gut punch—Ortho still there, shifted slightly in sleep, shirt riding higher to expose one pink nipple, legs splayed wider now, cock soft and nestled against his thigh.
Jordan's towel tented immediately, the fabric straining. He edged closer to the bed, inhaling deep—Ortho's scent, clean and faintly musky, filled his lungs. Tonight's gonna wreck me.
His eyes raked over the boy: that creamy skin begging for teeth, for bruises blooming under pressure. He'd noticed it from day one at school—Ortho's pale glow standing out amid the crowd—but now it taunted him, every curve screaming to be claimed. As Ortho murmured in his sleep, shifting with a soft sigh that arched his back just a fraction, Jordan's resolve cracked. His hand hovered, itching to trace, to grip and pull those thighs apart.
MOMENTS LATER...
Ortho stirred from his haze of sleep, a low whimper escaping his lips as unfamiliar sensations rippled through his body. 'Mmm... Ah! W-what's happening?' he murmured, voice thick and drowsy, his fair skin prickling with goosebumps under the moonlit glow.
His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and confused, a sharp gasp turning into a needy moan as he registered the position he'd been maneuvered into. He lay sprawled on his stomach across Jordan's bed, sheets twisted around his legs, knees dug into the mattress to hike his ass high in the air. Cool air kissed his exposed cheeks, but heat bloomed deeper—something slick, insistent, and probing slid in and out of his hole, stirring his insides with wet, rhythmic thrusts. It lapped at his walls, teasing nerves that sparked fire straight to his core.
His cock throbbed hard against the sheets, leaking pre-cum in steady drips that soaked the fabric beneath him. Every clench of his rim around the invading tongue pulled obscene squelches from his ass, the lewd sounds vibrating through his thighs and sending tremors racing up his spine. He tried to form words, to protest or question, but all that spilled out were breathy whimpers—high-pitched and desperate, sounds he'd never heard from his own throat before. They shocked him, flushing his cheeks with heat.
Gathering what little strength he had, Ortho twisted his head, peering over his shoulder through the tangle of his black curls. His breath hitched at the sight: Jordan's broad shoulders hunched between his spread thighs, face buried deep in the cleft of his ass, tongue plunging greedily into his quivering hole.
'J-Jordan! What are you doing?' Ortho stammered, his voice shaky and pitched high with a mix of alarm and unwanted arousal. He watched, mesmerized and mortified, as Jordan pulled back slowly. Thick strings of spit mingled with Ortho's own slick juices stretched from the tip of Jordan's tongue to his gaping rim, snapping wetly as they broke. The sudden emptiness left Ortho's hole fluttering open, exposed and aching, drawing another involuntary whimper from his lips.
Fuck... since when has he been doing this? The thought raced through Ortho's mind, panic mingling with the lingering pulses of pleasure. His body betrayed him, ass twitching under the scrutiny.
He glanced back again, only to lock eyes with Jordan, whose dark gaze fixed hungrily on every twitch and pulse of his hole. Embarrassment burned hot in Ortho's chest; he reached back instinctively, hand fumbling to cover himself, to hide the vulnerable stretch. But Jordan's larger hand clamped down, pinning both of Ortho's wrists to the small of his back in one firm grip.
'No, don't do that. Oh fuck, look at this... isn't it beautiful?' Jordan's voice rumbled low and rough, laced with raw hunger. With his free hand, he gripped Ortho's cheek, fingers digging into the soft flesh to spread him wider, baring the pink, slick interior to the cool air. Ortho's rim winked helplessly, still loose from the tonguing, a trickle of saliva and arousal leaking down his taint.
'Jordan, please, let's stop here. What you're doing isn't right—what are you even doing here?' Ortho pleaded, his words tumbling out in a rush, body trembling under the exposure. His cock jerked against the bed, untouched but aching from the intensity.
'I should be the one asking you that. What are you doing on my bed?' Jordan countered, his breath hot against Ortho's skin, eyes never leaving the sight of that clenching hole.
'Me? Oh, I came here to check if I could find any underwear to put on, but when I couldn't find one, I was about to leave. Then I saw a book on your nightstand and decided to read it. I think I fell asleep while reading—that's why I'm on your bed,' Ortho explained breathlessly, squirming in his hold. But it was too late; Jordan's presence loomed like a storm, inescapable.
'Oh? So you came to look for underwear?' Jordan's tone dripped with dark amusement, his pinned grip tightening just enough to arch Ortho's back further.
'Yes, I wa—Ah! Jordan!' Ortho's response shattered into a sharp moan, words cut off as Jordan's free hand wrapped around his leaking cock. Thick fingers squeezed the base before stroking up the length, thumb smearing the slick pre-cum over the swollen head. Ortho thrashed, hips bucking involuntarily, his body already wound too tight from the earlier rimming.
Breaths came in ragged gasps as Jordan worked him—slow, deliberate pumps that made his balls draw up tight. Then, without warning, two fingers pressed against his spit-slick hole and pushed in, breaching the ring with a wet slide. They curled immediately, scissoring gently at first, then thrusting in and out, in and out, knuckles grazing his sensitive walls.
Ortho's eyes widened, a choked gasp ripping from his throat as those fingers zeroed in on his prostate—pressing firm, rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves. His back arched sharply, ass pushing back onto the intrusion despite himself, a keening moan spilling free.
Jordan's lips curved into a predatory smile, satisfaction flashing in his eyes as he felt the spot yield under his touch. He didn't let up, grazing it harder now, pressing and rubbing with insistent pressure that sent white-hot jolts through Ortho's core. 'That's it,' Jordan murmured, voice gravelly. 'Feel that? You're gripping me so tight.'
This is too much... I-I might die from this, Ortho thought wildly, his hole clenching rhythmically around the invading fingers, milking them as pleasure bordered on pain. What has gotten into him? His legs shook, knees digging deeper into the mattress, thighs quivering from the onslaught.
He dissolved into a moaning mess beneath Jordan's control—uncontrollable cries bouncing off the walls, body thrashing as waves crashed over him. Fingers plunged deeper, stroking his cock in tandem, the dual assault unraveling him thread by thread. His vision blurred, toes curling, and then it hit: ecstasy exploded outward. Ropes of cum spurted from his cock, painting Jordan's hand in hot, sticky bursts. His body convulsed, ass clenching wildly as a gush of clear fluid squirted from his hole, coating Jordan's fingers and wrist in milky release.
Ortho collapsed forward, limbs turning to jelly, shivers wracking his frame as aftershocks pulsed through him. Jordan withdrew his fingers slowly, the wet pop echoing in the dim room. His eyes burned with unchecked desire, slick digits wrapping around his own throbbing cock—thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip—as he stroked himself lazily, gaze locked on Ortho's spent, trembling form.