This cursed my dick. A smut thread:

Connor’s not sure how it began. As a teen he’d been shy about sex. He blushed when he was kissed for the first time. All of his firsts were tender, innocent experiences. Even when’d grown older, gained more experience, https://twitter.com/bigDBHenergy/status/1163643566385770496

he’d sleep with guys who treated him gently, reverently.
He doesn’t remember the first time he stumbled upon porn that featured larger men. Hard men. Men who weren’t afraid to throw their weight around, with partners equally eager to bend under all that power. He doesn’t

remember the first time he came with his hand around his aching cock and two fingers deep inside himself, crying out through his gritted teeth.
He doesn’t quite know when the fantasies solidify into intentions.

The day after his 28th birthday he’s hungover, lying in bed,

listlessly scrolling though his favourite porn bookmarks. He’s too tired to get it up, but there’s a low, unsatisfying thrum of arousal in his gut.
A spam ad pops up, not for the first time.
“Bear looking for a twink to fuck.”
He rolls his eyes and flops onto his back,

annoyed.
The thought comes out of nowhere. He picks up his phone and enters a search: “bdsm clubs in Detroit.”
The results leave him reeling. He adds a few bookmarks to look at later, rolls over, and goes to sleep.

In the end the clubs seem too intimidating, even the one advertising themselves to be beginner friendly.
He’s scrolling through a dating app when he comes across a profile. A pretty, blond guy, with curly hair and full mouth.
“Looking for an older guy to put me where I belong ;)”

Could it be that easy?
He spends two hours rewriting his own profile.

The next week he matches with a guy.
“The Lieutenant.
A 53-year old bear looking for a brave buck who knows how to follow rules to play with. Message me and let’s see if want the same things. Not looking for

anything serious.”

The pictures are enough to make Connor a little turned on. No face is visible, but Connor had been immediately attracted to what had been on show. One picture showing a stocky man in jeans and a worn band t-shirt, tucked into the jeans and stretched over

the swell of a wide stomach. One of the man wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, showing the ample of grey hair covering his belly and barreled chest, his thick biceps.
The third one showing the man’s cock. Connor had let out a soft sound at the sight of it,

his hand inching low on his belly. It was hard, jutting out of grey pubic hairs, framed by the man’s thick thigh. It was the biggest dick Connor had seen on a man with his own eyes - flushed, held in the man’s grip, so thick his fingers barely wrapped around it. The tip peeked

out of the foreskin, tempting Connor. Lower, the guy’s balls hung huge and heavy, looking so full.
Connor bites his lip while writing his greeting, erasing and rewriting before sending,
“Hello, big boy. Think you could show me a good time?”

They end up messaging sporadically. Connor is surprised that the man who reveals his name to be Hank doesn’t seem to want to exchange fantasies or nudes. He asks Connor normal dating questions - his interests, his profession, his favourite shows and books.

When Hank suggests they have coffee Connor is a little surprised.
“I thought you weren’t looking to date?”
“I’m not. But I like to meet my playmates before we do anything in private. Safer. And weeds out clashing personalities.”

Hank doesn’t send a picture of his face, and Connor doesn’t press after his first few subtle requests are ignored. He sits in a cafe, nervous, staring at the door.
Somehow he knows, immediately. A man enters, and he’s- bigger than the pictures had even suggested. Intimidatingly

tall, but wearing jeans that look baggy on him and a leather jacket that hides his physigue. But Connor knows. Maybe it’s the calm, self-assured way he carries himself. When his blue eyes begin to scan the cafe Connor becomes certain. He lifts his hand up, and Hank’s gaze

settles on him. A small smile quirks at one corner of his mouth.
“Hello, Connor,” Hank says as he sits down, and his low, rumbling voice rolls over Connor like an enchantment.

Later that night Connor sits on his sofa, staring at his phone, conflicted. He’s attracted to Hank.

Crazily so. Their meeting had been nice - relaxed, though Connor had been battling his nerves all through it.
The problem is... Hank is-
Nice.
He’s a nice guy. Makes Connor think of his college roommate’s dad. Easy to talk to, politely curious of his son’s friend’s lives.

A bit bland.
There had been an undercurrent of something sharper that Connor got a taste of a few times in Hank’s sardonic sense of humour, but other than that it’s hard to imagine the man could offer what Connor is so desperate to try.
Still. He is sexy. And he seems safe.

And they get along, and it seems like a waste to not see this thing through. Even if it ends up being bland, at least Connor would get to try that massive of cock of his.
His phone lights up with a text.
“You seem like a good kid. You want to be a good boy for me?”

Connor licks his lips, rubbing his thumb across his phone screen before finally unlocking his phone to reply.
“I have to be honest with you. I’ve never done this stuff before. I mean, the dom/sub scene.”
He holds his breath. Dots appear on Hank’s side of the conversation, stop,

start again.
“We all need a first. I’m not going to condescend you by telling you you should ease into it with a partner you know. All I need to know is: can you follow rules?”
Connor swallows.
“I’m very good at it.”
“Good at it, what?”
Connor frowns, and then catches on.

“Very good at it, sir.”
“Good boy. Are you free this weekend?”
Connor’s feels light-headed all of a sudden, aroused.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’ll let you know how to prepare. My place, saturday. Make sure you’re sober and well-rested.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may call me Lieutenant.”

Connor is nervous when he arrives at Hank’s house. He rubs his hands over his thighs, adjusts his overnight bag, and tries the handle.
It’s open just as Hank had said.
”Hello?” He calls out uncertainly. A large saint bernard pads to meet him - Sumo, Connor remembers. He kneels

down to pet the dog, feeling a little bit more at ease.
”Wait in the bedroom like I told you,” Hank’s voice comes from behind a closed door.
Connor pats the dog and stands up, creeping around the corner to find the bedroom.
”Okay,” he breathes out. ”You can do this.”
It’s okay.

He knows Hank, somewhat. Trusts him, kind of. Richard knows where he is and when he’s supposed to update him later.
He undresses himself, folding his clothes on the floor neatly. His hands are shaking, but he’s already aroused, his dick half hard as he kneels down on the floor.

He sits, hands in his lap. Head down, staring at the floor. He’s so nervous his stomach feels too tight, but he closes his eyes and takes deep breaths.
He opens his eyes when he hears the bedroom door open and footsteps enter. He barely resists the urge to look up - Hank had

been adamant in his directions.
But he can see Hank’s legs, and his cock twitches. He sees back leather, and thick boots. Slow steps as Hank approaches and stops in front of him. Connor’s breath comes in short, quick bursts.
”Colour?” Hank says, and his voice is different from

the coffee house. Harder. Sterner.
Connor swallows. ”Green.”
There’s a moment of heavy silence, and then Connor hastily adds -
”Sir.”
”Good boy,” Hank says, a hint of approval in his voice that makes something in Connor loosen a little.
”I’m going to take a look,” Hank says,

and Connor remains silent. It wasn’t a question.
Hank moves behind him, and large hands touch his shoulders, making him jump. Hank doesn’t comment on it, but he gives them a reassuring squeeze.
He hears Hank kneel behind him. His hands trail down Connor’s arms, down to his

hands folded in his lap - it causes Hank to lean forward, his breath fanning over Connor’s neck, his chest brushing Connor’s back. Connor realises Hank is naked aside from the leather pants, and he shivers, leaning into the contact.
Hank’s hands around his wrists tighten

in warning, and Connor sits up reluctantly.
Hank continues his exploration. His hands caress Connor’s skin, smooth almost reverently over his muscles, tracing his ribs, his thighs. Then Hank puts one paw on the back of Connor’s neck and applies pressure.

”On your hands and knees,” Hank orders, and Connor lets out a soft sound of arousal before obeying. He squeezes his eyes shut when Hank’s grips his buttocks and spreads them apart, and he wishes he could see Hank’s face now.
”Good,” Hank rumbles, and then his hand reaches under

Connor to fondle his balls and give his cock a tug.
”Colour?”
”Green, sir,” Connor breathes out. ”Green.”
”That’s my boy. Sit up.”
Connor returns to his previous position, eyes still closed. He feels like castaway. He has no control for as long as things are within his limits,

and he doesn’t know what is going to happen next. All there is is the aching hardness of his arousal, and Hank’s hard voice and sure hands.
”Too scared to look?” Hank asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Connor opens his eyes and lets out a choked moan. Hank stands in front

of him, arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s massive. He towers over Connor. The leather makes his thick tighs look like they’re bulging against the material. Connor can just see the outline of his cock, the leather bunched and tenting where it’s hidden. Hank’s gut rests over

the low waist of the pants, and Connor can’t look away. He wants to press his nose against the swell of Hank’s stomach, wants to feel it press against his own, wants to be pressed down by Hank’s solid weight.
There are scars over his torso. Large and small ones, and Connor

itches to ask. He keeps his mouth shut. On Hank’s chest, under his folded arms, a large, faded tattoo. He wonders if Hank is military. It would make sense.
The Lieutenant.
His hair is tied up, and it gives him a whole new look. He looks more disciplined. More proud. A man

in control, and enjoying it. It’s almost hard to believe this is the same person from the coffee house, the man Connor thought was too nice, too fatherly to give him what he wants.
The look on Hank’s face proves him wrong. There’s something cocky about the way he looks at

Connor down his nose. Like Connor is nothing but his plaything.
And tonight he is.
”I’m going to ask you one more time, and then we’ll start. Colour, boy?”
Connor licks his lips and shifts slightly, his cock aching hard. He’s never been so turned on.
”Green, Lieutenant.”

Hank unfolds his arms, stepping closer. Connor can smell the scent of leather, and his eyes go to the bulge in Hank’s pants. Hank lets out a low, amused chuckle.
”See something you like?”
Connor closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.
”Sir, I want- I’d like to

suck your cock,” he says, voice soft and breathy.
”What do we say when we want something?” Hank says sternly. Connor wets his lips, trying not to squirm.
”Please, sir.”
”Please, sir, what?”
Connor is starting to realise how much self control this is going to take.

”Please, sir, may I suck your cock,” he says, voice tinged with desperation.
Hank laughs and begins to undo his pants. Connor stares at his large hands, his thick fingers. And then Hank pushes his pants down and reaches in and pulls out his cock, and Connor lets out a soft sob.

It’s even bigger in real life. Thick and veiny, hanging downwards half-hard. It looks like a moutful. Connor’s salivating, eyeing it, gauging if he can fit it completely in any of his holes. His own cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing against his belly, already leaking precome.

”Go on,” Hank coaxes, jutting his hips forward. ”Show me you’re worth my time.”
Connor takes in a sharp breath and leans forward, placing his hands on Hank’s thighs. They’re hard and wide under his palms.
”Hands behind your back,” Hank barks. ”Didn’t tell you you could touch.”

Connor pauses, reeling, giving Hank an uncertain look. Hank gives him a minute nod, and Connor looks down, putting his hands behind his back, lacing his fingers together, and tries again.
This time Hank doesn’t interrupt him. Connor doesn’t take him in his mouth yet. He presses

his face against Hank’s crotch, nuzzling at the base of his cock, the wiry hairs tickling at his skin. He inhales deep, smelling the leather and sweat. It makes him moan softly, and Hank lets out a pleased sound.
Connor mouths at Hank’s shaft, tracing it with his lips. The tip

brushes over his lips and he opens his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he takes Hank in.
There’s a heavy sigh from above him, and Connor looks up to see Hank watching him, his eyes half-lidded.
”Are you going to suck it, or do I need to teach you?” Hank growls, and Connor looks

back down and leans in.
Connor loves this. He loves sucking cock, and Hank’s is perfect. It slides on his tongue, heavy, filling his mouth with the taste of salt on Hank’s skin. He can feel it swell in his mouth, harden fully, and he moans at the way it stretches his lips.

He begins to move, bobbing his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks. He could lose himself in this, in the intensity of what he’s doing. He could worship Hank’s cock for hours, let it rest in his mouth, or he could let Hank fuck his throat, use him until his throat is sore and

his voice is fucked rough.
His fantasy is deflated when he gags over Hank’s length, the sheer size of him too much. He draws away, coughing, blinking away tears.
”I’m sorry, sir-” he starts, but Hank grips his hair and tilts his head up.
”I don’t want excuses, just do your

fucking job,” Hank growls, and Connor quivers at the cold command in his voice.
”Yes, Lieutenant,” he breathes, and takes Hank back in his mouth.
Hank doesn’t push him. He doesn’t thrust, doesn’t shove Connor’s head down, just lets him work at his own pace. Connor had thought

things would be rougher, but as he looks up into Hank’s lust-darkened face, he understands there’s a different kind of dominance in the quiet control Hank has. As though he’s merely indulging Connor, giving him a treat that’s his to snatch away if Connor displeases him.

Connor wants so badly to please him. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, but he wants more than anything to make Hank happy with him.
”That’s it,” Hank groans when Connor manages to finally inch him all the way in, feeling like Hank’s cockhead is pushing its way down to his

gullet. He can’t breathe, there are tears trickling down his face, but he’s so *happy*. His nose brushes Hank’s abdomen, Hank’s large stomach pressing against his forehead, his heavy balls against Connor’s chin.
”Good boy,” Hank says, sounding breathless, and his fingers stroke

gently at the nape of Connor’s neck.
Then suddenly it’s too much, and Connor retches and has to grab Hank’s leg, before he realises he’s not supposed to, but he needs the support while he coughs and gasps in lungfuls of air before he snatches his hand away.

”I’m so sorry, I wasn’t- it was an accident,” he says frantically, shocked to hear how his voice sound. Tearful and raw from the way Hank’s monster of a cock has wrecked his throat.
Hank strokes his hand through Connor’s hair and then cups his cheek, thumbing at the wetness.

”Colour?” He asks.
”Green,” Connor sobs. ”I’m- green.”
Hank frowns.
”Are you sure. Think before you answer.”
Connor closes his eyes and swallows. God, he can feel the phantom of Hank’s dick in his throat, on his tongue, stretching the corners of his mouth, can feel it in the

ache in his jaw.
”I’m green,” he says again, and meets Hank’s gaze steadily.
Hank nods, and puts pressure on his neck to bring him closer again.
”Take it easy,” he orders, and Connor sighs happily before taking Hank between his lips.

Hank lets him catch his breath. Connor takes his time, enjoying sucking Hank off slowly, tonguing at his thick shaft, playing with his foreskin. He feels a hand in his hair and closes his eyes in bliss, happy to be petted while he sucks cock.
”That’s enough,” Hank says,

stepping away. Connor lets out a soft whine of complaint, which earns him a stern look.
”I want you on the bed, ass up, face down.
Connor licks his lips, feeling breathless.
”Yes, sir,” he breathes, and climbs up, giving Hank one last look over his shoulder before assuming

position, his ass up, feet on the edge of the bed.
It makes him feel a little vulnerable. His cheek is pressed against the comforter, and he can’t see Hank. He feels exposed, uncertain.
Then Hank walks around the bed and Connor watches him pull out his bedside drawer and take

out lube and condoms, and a small black fabric bundle.
”Give me your hands,” Hank orders, and Connor stretched his arms towards him. Hank undoes the bundle - long black fabric, a black plug, and silver handcuffs.
Connor jolts.
”Yellow,” he says, uncertain.
Hank looks at him.

”Sit up,” he says calmly, and Connor obeys, thinking he’s fucked up.
Hank sits on the edge of the bed, his cock tucked in but his fly undone. Connor can see the grey patch of his pubic hair.
”They’re not real,” Hank says, holding the ends of the cuffs and giving them a firm tug.

One end comes loose off the chain.
”Oh,” Connor says, breathing a little easier. Hank loops the cuff back into the chain.
”Alright?” He asks, resting a hand on Connor’s shoulder.
”Yeah,” Connor says softly. ”Yeah, that’s okay.” Then, blushing, he says, ”can you kiss me?”

One corner of Hank’s mouth twitches up, and he leans in, pressing his mouth to Connor’s. Connor parts his lips, and Hank’s tongue slides into his mouth, his hand curling around the back of Connor’s neck. Connor moans, pressing himself against Hank, and Hank growls, gripping

him around his waist and holding him tight. He kisses Connor like he wants to devour him, demanding and hungry, and Connor feels himself grow breathless. He wants Hank so much, wants to be good for him. He feels high on the taste of Hank on his tongue, can smell the scent of

leather mixed with sweat and the soap on Hank’s skin. Hank bites at his lower lip and Connor whimpers, hands digging into Hank’s shoulders. Even Hank’s kissing is demanding, like he’s asking Connor to surrender to him, and Connor bends easily. He pulls away from the kiss, burying

his face in the crook of Hank’s neck.
”Alright?” Hank asks, one large hand stroking Connor’s back.
”Uhhuh,” Connor mumbles, and then sits up.
”Sorry, sir,” he says.
Hank nods, and then, with gentle but firm hands guides him back down on his front, and then he takes Connor’s

wrists and holds them in one hand behind his back as he cuffs them there.
”Be a good boy now,” he rumbles, and gives Connor’s ass a swat.
Connor lets out a soft yelp, shivering. He considers for a moment, and then lifts his ass up a little, enticing.
”I’m sorry for not trusting

you, sir,” he says.
There’s a pause, and then Hank rests his hand on Connor’s buttock.
”You’ll learn. Do you think you deserve to be taught a lesson?”
Connor closes his eyes, swallowing. This is something he’s fantasised about - no partner has ever spanked him, aside from a few

playful swats. He’s thought about it often, with his hand on his cock. Has even tried it on himself a few times, but it’s always been unsatisfying. Realising he can finally ask for it makes him feel a little giddy.
”Yes, sir. I think you should show me what happens if I’m bad.”

”Aren’t you a keen learner,” Hank chuckles low, giving his ass a squeeze. ”How many do you think you deserve?”
*As many as you can give*, Connor thinks, but knows not to get ahead of himself.
”...t-ten?” Connor says hesitantly. He thinks he can take ten.
”I don’t want you

crying about me being mean to you,” Hank growls, and before Connor can reply, there’s a sharp smack on his left buttock.
”Ah,” he breathes out, his muscles tensing.
”And I want you to count,” Hank says sternly.
”O-one,” Connor says, and he’s barely spoken when the second

smack lands.
After the third one, he bites his lip and then says, ”I think I can handle harder.”
Hank is silent for a moment, and then he leans over Connor, his chest and belly pressed against Connor’s back. Connor feels like he’s *covered*, and his cock throbs. He can’t

wait for Hank to fuck him like this.
”Be careful what you ask for,” Hank murmurs against his ear, and then the warm weight of him is gone.
Connor squeezes his eyes shut and tries to brace himself, but he’s unprepared for the sharp smack, followed by a stinging ache that makes him

cry out.
”Four!”
Hank doesn’t wait as long now. The fifth one follows almost immediately, and then another, and Connor can feel his ass begin to heat up. Hank alternates sides, and by the seventh Connor is tearing up, sobbing out the counts.
”H-harder!” He begs, feeling

a little delirious, a little out of control. He’s never felt this way, light-headed from the pain and excitement.
Hank grips his neck hard, pressing him into the mattress.
“Is that how you ask?” He snarls.
“Ah, I’m sorry, sir,” Connor sobs, trying to catch his breath. ”Please,

sir, hit me harder!”
”Next time you try to boss me around I’m getting the belt,” Hank says coldly, squeezing briefly and then letting go. Connor’s cock twitches and for one insane moment he considers pushing Hank, making him act on his threat.
But then Hank hits him again,

his broad palm landing on Connor’s ass *hard*, and Connor *screams*, collapsing onto his belly.
”Count!”
”E-eight,” Connor says - blubbers, his voice thick with tears.
”Colour!”
Connor squeezes his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths.
”Green! Please, lieutenant!”
Hank growls,

places his hand on the small of Connor’s back, on the inside of the loop of his arms, trapping them there. The next slap hits Connor’s sore ass in a jolt of pleasure-pain that makes Connor see stars, and when he screams out the number Hank hits him again, the slap of the final

strike loud over Connor’s sobs.
”Ten,” Connor manages to say, and then he’s being hauled up, manhandled by Hank like he weighs nothing. Hank cradles him gently, holding him chest to chest so that Connor’s weight doesn’t rest fully on his sore ass.
”What a good boy,” Hank murmurs,

stroking his back in soothing circles. Connor sobs, wishes he could wrap his arms around Hank. But Hank holds him, his strong arms wrapped around Connor, murmuring praise.
”What’s your colour, baby?” He asks, and Connor feels a surge of delight at the use of the endearment.

”I’m green,” he sniffles. ”I just need a moment.”
Hank hums, holding him. His hand trails down his side, over his hip and between them, and gropes at Connor’s cock. Connor mewls, his hips jerking forwards, and Hank chuckles.
”So eager, hmm?” He hums, and Connor nuzzles at his

neck. He turns to look down where Hank curls his hand around Connor’s cock, and can’t stop the moan welling out of him at the sight. Hank’s hand nearly envelops him, thick fingers encircling Connor’s girth. Only the tip peeks out, flushed red and leaking precome.

”What a cute little cock,” Hank cooes, and Connor quivers. He knows he’s perfectly adequate, has never felt insecure, but there’s something arousing about the hint of condescension in Hank’s voice.
”You play around with this thing?” Hank asks, and Connor squirms.
”Hmm? Do you

stroke yourself and dream about being fucked by a bigger cock, one that would put this little pecket to shame?”
”Sir,” Connor whines, hiding his face in Hank’s neck.
”Shh, no need to be ashamed. Boys like you don’t know what to do with real dicks - and how could you, look at this

little prick.” He takes Connor between his two fingers, as though it’s something small and pathetic. It’s not, but the game is leaving Connor thrumming with arousal.
”You ever been fucked by a real cock, baby?” Hank asks, tone scornful. ”Or have you just had other pathetic dicks

poke at you, leaving you hoping to be filled by a real man?”
Connor whines - it hits closer to his fantasies than he’s comfortable admitting.
”I asked you a question,” Hank snarls, hand moving to Connor’s balls, holding them threateningly firm.
”No, sir!” Connor says, feeling

humiliated. ”I’ve never been fucked by a real cock!”
”That’s what I thought,” Hank says disdainfully. ”You think you can take mine? Or are you going to cry about it like a little bitch?”
The answer might be both, Connor thinks, flushing deep. Hank is huge.

”I can take it, sir,” he says, voice more certain than he feels.
”I doubt it,” Hank sniffs. ”But I’ll let you try. See if you can prove yourself to me.”
”Thank you, sir,” Connor breathes. And he does feel thankful. He’s starting to understand the man that Hank is. Hank is a lot

of things Connor both envies and wishes his partners were. He realises how privileged he is, allowed to play with Hank, to be taught by him. Not everyone is allowed here, and he’d chosen Connor.

”I won’t let you down, I promise,” Connor murmurs, pressing sweet little kisses to Hank’s throat, nuzzling at his beard.

"You good to continue?" Hank asks, voice low and soft. Almost tender. Connor nods and Hank lets out a low, rumbling sound of approval.
"I'll let you choose this time - ass up, or on your back?"
Connor considers. He's comfortable where he is, cradled in Hank's lap, but he can

feel Hank's half-hard cock against his thigh and he wants badly to have it inside of him.
"I'd like to see you, sir," he says shyly, pressing a kiss to Hank's clavicle. Hank hums, pleased.
"On your back then," he says, reaching to undo Connor's cuffs. "Hands above your head."

Connor obeys, stretching himself out on Hank's bed. The cottong of the sheets rubs across his heated ass, making him tremble. The sting of it feels so good, the pain cutting the edges of his arousal. Hank presses his wrists down on a pillow, giving them a firm squeeze.

"Can you keep them up?" He asks, voice stern. Connor swallows and nods, gripping the pillow in his fingers.
"I want to hear you say it," Hank says.
"Yes, sir. I can hold still."
"Good."
And with that he's off the bed. Connor stares up at him, taking in Hank's towering build. He

feels a little breathess, admiring the figure Hank cuts in all that leather. Hank watches him, too, his blue eyes trailing over Connor's body, his face impassive. Connor has never felt so vulnerable, like a specimen being evaluated. He feels suddenly aware of every inch of his

body, every little flaw and source of insecurity he's ever had. For one ridiculous moment he berates himself for not trimming his pubic hair.
"What a pretty little toy," Hank hums, reaching his hand into his pants. Connor stares, watching his hand move under the leather.

"How many guys like yourself did you go through before you admitted to yourself what you really needed?"
Connor resists the urge to hide his face, Hank's words hitting a little too close.
"I asked you a question," Hank says, pulling his cock out of his pants. Connor can't look

away.
"Many," Connor says, voice barely a whisper. He watches Hank strokes himself, his large hand on his large cock. Connor's salivating.
"And how long until you acted on it?"
"Too long," Connor moans softly, his fingers tightening around the pillowcase.
"What stopped you?"

Hank asks, his hands going to his waistband.
"Can you keep those on? Sir." Connor asks, his face heating up.
Hank raises an eyebrow. "Why?" He asks, his tone teasing. Connor lets out a frustrated sound, stuttering around his shame.
"I want... I want to feel the leather," he

blurts out, tense.
Hank gives him a smile, sharp and dangerous, and moves his hands.
"Since you ask so nicely..." He grabs the slick and leans over Connor, leaning down to press one palm on Connor's thigh, pushing it to the side.
"What stopped you?" Hank asks again, and it

takes Connor a moment for his brain to catch up. He watches Hank spread the lube over his thick fingers. Connor's cock twitches where it rests on his flat belly.
"I don't know," Connor says softly. Hank's fingers brush between his ass cheeks, drawing a gasp out of him. "I... I

was ashamed."
"Ashamed of what?"
The fingers massage over his hole, teasing. A tip dips in and then pulls back out. Connor draws in a shuddery breath.
"I don't... of wanting.. I'm supposed to want men my own age, men who look like me, pretty and young and-"
"And what?" Hank

asks, his voice far too casual for this. Almost disinterested. Connor tries not to think too much about why it turns hi,m on.
"I want someone who can hold me down," Connor whispers, closing his eyes against Hank's penetrating gaze.
Two thick fingers push inside him and Connor

cries out, back arching as he angles his hips down.
"Oh- God!" He chokes out, voice hoarse. Hank chuckles, fucking him with shallow thrusts before quickly adding a third finger.
"St- stop, that's-" Connor pants, but doesn't want to finish the sentence.
"What is it, boy? More

than you can handle?" Hank taunts him, spreading his fingers and stretching Connor wide open.
Connor bites his lip, working his body to relax, rocking his hips against Hank's hand.
"I can take it," he grunts. "I can take you."
"Good boy," Hank croons, and Connor feels the

whiskery press of a kiss on his hip.
Hank keeps fingering him, working him open, his thumb rubbing behind Connor's balls. All Connor can do is try to remember to keep his hands above his head while he moans under Hank's touch like a bitch in heat.
"Y-yellow," he groans. "I'm

not gonna last!"
Hank chuckles, drawing his hand away. Connor lays panting, staring up at him blearily.
"You can come on my cock," Hank says coolly. "And not a second before. Or I'll put put a band around this cute little pecker of yours." His fingers traces around Connor's cock

and balls, teasing the sensitive skin.
"Sir," Connor whines, shifting his hips.
"I want you quiet now," Hank says, voice hard. "I want you still and quiet, and I want you to take my cock like you were meant for it." Connor watches, wide -eyed, as Hank settles between his

spread thighs. The black of his leather pants contrasts against Connor's pale skin. And between his thick thighs is his cock, so hard and big it curves downward, jutting towards Connor.
"You may come when I'm inside you," Hank says, slicking up his cock. Connor nods, staring at

Hank's erection.
"Be that tight ass of yours is going to feel so sweet around me," Hank murmurs, and then he leans over Connor, one hand on holding his dick, the other braced on mattress.
Hank's cockhead nudges against Connor's hole. It's impossible not to tense up, but Hank

waits, until Connor lets out a long breath, relaxing a little bit. And then he pushes, and Connor is sure it's not going to fit, it's just not going to go in-
When the tip pops inside Connor lets out a strangled scream, his hands going to Hank's shoulders, pushing, and then

clawing to hold him still.
"Colour!" Hank barks, but before Connor can reply he's pulling out.
"No, no, please, GREEN!"
Hank stills, staring at him.
"Green!" Connor repeats. There's a need him in him he's never felt before- he wants Hank's cock, like it's what he was made for.

And maybe he was, maybe he was meant to be used by Hank, to be his good boy, his little toy.
"Then keep your hands to yourself!" Hank snarls, moving so quickly Connor barely has time to react before Hank has him pinned by his wrists, and then Hank is pushing in again and god, it

does hurt, but it feels so good, every inch of Connor coursing with arousal. His own erection is flagging, but he doesn't care - all he can concentrate on is the slow, agonising slide of Hank's cock into him, the way it cleaves him open, and the dark look on Hank's face as he

sinks in, his teeth bared and lust burning in his eyes.
"Lieutenant," Connor breathes, trying in vain to release his hands from Hank's grip.
"You're not gonna come?" Hank asks, voice tinged with mockery. "Thought you were so close. What happened, boy? Too much for you?"

"Please," Connor sobs, tugging on his wrists. "You're mean..."
Hank laughs, a sound that goes straight to Connor's gut.
"Boy, you don't know the half of it." He lowers himself down, his stomach pressing against Connor's, trapping his cock between them. His mouth brushes over the

shell of Connor's ear.
"Once I've got you broken in I'll show you how mean I can really be."

The moan that wrenches itself out of Connor’s throat is deep and thick with breathlesness. Hank’s words hit him in the gut with a surge of arousal - yes, he wants that, wants it so bad, and he doesn’t know when he became this person who wants to be used and dominated. All he

wants is to lie on his back and expose himself to Hank, to let the man bend and mould him however he wants.
”Promise,” he pants, and Hank lets out a huff of a laugh.
”Greedy brat,” he says. He rocks his hips with a sharp thrust and Connor cries out, hands jerking futilely in

Hank’s grasp. He wants to hold on to *something*. Hank’s cock - all that massive girth - slides deeper, and Connor thinks he’s going to break. But it feels so good, Hank will *ruin* him, and he doesn’t care. He feels the scratch of Hank’s zipper, the leather of his pants hot

against his skin. It’s the leather that makes Connor crack.
”Please, Lieutenant, please, please, fuck me,” Connor sobs, trying to rut his hips down, to impale himself further on Hank’s length.
Hank lets out a low, rumbling sound. He pulls out, and then thrusts back in, and then

again, shallow, lazy thrusts that get him deeper and deeper into Connor’s ass.
”Christ,” Connor breathes.
”You have no idea how tight you are,” he growls. ”I’m going to get this sweet little ass of yours well-trained on my cock, make sure you learn to take it easily.”
He sounds

out of breath, his voice gravelly with lust. It makes Connor quiver, his body coiled tight with arousal.
”I want that, I want you to make me yours, sir,” Connor stutters.
Hank snarls, and with a snap of his hips he drives his cock into Connor to the hilt.

Connor feels it, feels every inch of it spear him open, and his mouth opens in a choked scream, his body jolting with pleasure. He’s shaking - Hank’s cock is pressed against his prostate, *jammed* against it, and he’s sure if Hank were to sit up now and glance down he’d see the

tip of his cock somewhere near Connor’s navel because Connor doesn’t care how impossible that is, he swears he can feel Hank in his guts.
And then Hank moves, his heavy stomach dragging over Connor’s dripping cock, and just like that Connor loses control. He comes with a shout

that’s closer to a shriek, and if he wasn’t busy shaking apart, his orgasm an intense wave that makes his whole body quake and his breath turn into shuddering gasps.
”Oh, God,” Connor chokes out, muscles releasing and causing him to slump bonelessly under Hank.
One of his wrists

is freed, and Hank’s large hand sinks into his hair, stroking tenderly. Hank keeps rocking against him - not pulling out, just nudging his cock deeper, his balls pressed against Connor’s buttocks.
”There you go,” he croons. He sounds a little breathless too. ”That was good, hmm?

Tell me your colour, baby.”
Connor swallows a few times, trying to concentrate on something that isn’t the feeling of being stretched on Hank’s cock, or the insisteng rub of Hank’s belly against his spent cock, or the insistent pressure on his prostate that keeps him hard and is

almost painful so soon after coming.
”Green,” Connor slurs, moving his free hand to Hank’s ribs, stroking over the ample flesh over firm muscle. Hank presses a kiss, a tender brush of his lips, to Connor’s brow.
”Good,” Hank says, and the only warning Connor gets is the low,

menacing cadence in his voice.
Hank pushes himself up, slipping out of Connor’s poor, stretched hole, and in one powerful move grabs Connor’s thighs and hauls his ass into his lap and leans forward on his knees, until Connor is nearly folded in two.

”You asked for it,” Hank says, teeth bared, and Connor has enough time to brace his hands on Hank’s cock before he’s being impaled again. It barely feels easier the second time, and this time Hank doesn’t wait - he plants a hand beside Connor’s head to brace himself, and then he

begins to fuck Connor with brutal, jackhammering thrusts that drive desperate wails out of Connor.
”A-ah, ah, s-sir-r,” Connor cries, to the obcsene rhythm of Hanks cock driving into him. ”P-plea-ase, yes-s, ah!”

”You sound pathethic,” Hank snarls, and Connor closes his eyes against the humiliation that feeds right into his arousal.
”Acting like you’ve never been fucked before,” Hank continues. He sounds out of breath, but his rhythm doesn’t falter. He ruts into Connor, using Connor’s

body without mercy, and Connor loves it, doesn’t want it to ever end. His cock is bouncing against his curved belly, the wet tip smearing his earlier load everywhere.
”Have you been fucked before?” Hank asks, grinding down, and Connor sobs and digs his fingers into

Hank’s shoulders.
”Answer me, brat, or I’ll stop!”
”No, sir! I’ve never been fucked! You’re the only one to really fuck me!”
It’s not true, and yet it is. No one has ever ridden Connor like this. He thinks he might die, from the insane intensity of it, of the breathtaking

pace that Hank has set, so hard and brutal that Connor is feeling overwhelmed. Hank is everywhere, pressing his body into a shape Connor hadn’t realised he’s capable of. Hank and all of his strength, the power in him, pinning him on his cock and forcing Connor to submit.

And Connor does so gladly.
”And you’re gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t ya?” Hank grunts, and Connor thinks he must be close too.
”Yes, sir,” Connor sobs, and there are tears in the corners of his eyes and wetting his temples. ”I want to be your good boy, please, let me!”

”Fuck,” Hank pants, and Connor watches him screw his eyes shut and hang his head low. ”Fuck, come on, baby, take it!”
All Connor wants is to take what Hank will give him. Almost delirious with it, he lifts his head and captures Hank’s mouth in a kiss, a messy, fumbling one that

coaxes Hank’s tongue against his own.
There’s a stutter to Hank’s rhythm, and then he slams himself into Connor, and Connor thinks he can feel that already monstrous girth swell inside him as Hank shakes

apart above him, quiet except for the few gritted groans that Connor swallows with his kiss.

There’s a moment of almost suspended stillness. Hank’s mouth is pressed against Connor’s, his cock buried deep as he empties his load inside Connor. Connor’s pulse is pounding, a deafening sound that seems to drown out everything else, and then Hank lets out a strained groan and

gives his hips a minute thrust. Connor whimpers, holding onto Hank, not knowing what to do with himself anymore.
Hank turns his face to brush his lips over Connor’s cheek, nuzzling him, his mouth brushing over the shell of Connor’s ear.
“That’s a good boy,” he murmurs, voice low

and sex-rough. Connor quivers, pressing his face to Hank’s neck, mouthing at his pulse. His dick is hard again, trapped between them, and he tries to shift under Hank’s bulk to gain some friction.
“Or maybe not,” Hank mutters, pushing himself up until he’s sitting on his

haunches, staring down at Connor, his blue eyes cool and face unreadable.
“Colour, brat?”
Connor swallows, realising how heavy his tongue feels. He feels almost lazy - sated in a way that sex rarely leaves him.
“Green, sir,” he says softly, and almost without noticing his hand

caresses the dip of his hip, inches from his sensitive cock.
Hank watches him, something evaluating in his gaze. Connor watches him back, his eyes a little droopy, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s not entirely sure he’s not dreaming.
Eventually Hank shifts, moving

to Connor’s side and kicking off his pants before gently pushing Connor onto his left side.
“Let’s wind things down a bit, hm?” Hank says, and Connor wants to protest, except then Hank is draping one thick thigh over his hip, pinning him in place. A muscled arm wraps around

Connor’s waist, Hank’s palm coming to rest flat on his belly.
“You good like this?” Hank asks, voice a low rumble that reverberates through his chest and Connor’s back. Connor can feel Hank’s warm breaths in his hair, and he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the feeling of

being enveloped by Hank.
“This’s good,” Connor mumbles, turning his head slightly, until Hank huffs and presses a kiss to his temple. He stays there, every puff of is breath fanning across Connor’s skin as he wraps his hand around Connor’s cock, drawing a gasp from Connor. He

begins to stroke, long, quick motions that drive Connor’s arousal higher, until he’s biting his lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he rocks into Hank’s grip, Hank rocking against him in encouragement.
“Come on, baby, let me take care of you,” Hank coaxes him. “What a good boy you

were, played so well by the rules.”
It’s the words as much as a the sincerely pleased tone in Hank’s voice that is driving Connor crazy. He thought the submission felt good; the praising feedback is like catnip.
“I’m so proud of you,” Hank continues. “You took me so well, you did

everything just perfectly.”
Connor whines, his hips stuttering, and Hank keeps on murmuring praise to him, keeps stroking him and holding him, until finally Connor comes with a broken sound that’s a mix between a cry and sob. It’s a relief that spreads through his whole body,

releasing tension in him he hadn’t even been aware of as the surge of pleasure envelopes him. Hank holds him through it, and keeps his arm and leg wrapped around Connor as he comes down from his orgasm.
There’s something Connor wants to say, something that feels important. But he

has to catch his breath first, has to calm his pulse and make sure his voice doesn’t tremble if he speaks.
He keeps his eyes closed, concentrates on the feeling of Hank’s chest rising and falling against his back, on the sound of Hank’s breathing, steady and slow.

A second; two: Connor blinks, staring at Hank’s chest. How did he end up on his left side?
“Hey there,” Hank says, Connor blinks up at him blearily.
“I fell asleep?” He asks, feeling groggy, but well rested. From the cool blue light in the room he can tell it’s very, very early.

“Happens often,” Hank says, brushing his hand through Connor’s hair. “We’ll talk about the consequences of submission play later.” He hesitates, an expression that strikes Connor as foreign on Hank.
“Unless you wanna skulk out of here and do the walk of shame?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Connor asks, wondering if he missed something important.
“Lots of people do,” Hank says. His tone is easy, but Connor senses a hint of regret anyway. “Especially the first-timers.”
“I see,” Connor says slowly. His palm is pressed to Hank’s chest,

where a faded tattoo lies. He’d like to know where Hank got it from.
“And... if I don’t want to do that?” He asks tentatively.
Hank raises an eyebrow and then pulls him a little closer.
“Then you be a good boy, go back to sleep, and we’ll talk more over breakfast.”
Connor smiles,

settling in Hank’s embrace, feeling more secure and grounded than he has in a long time.