Author's note: a "fuckstop," a concept originating from the Reddit guro community, is a public snuff brothel – run either by the government or independent businesses/organizations - where women are conscripted into service as single-use sex toys, after which they are swiftly killed by guillotine, typically to be repurposed as meat.
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“Conner?” Professor Jones repeats. “Has anybody seen Conner this morning?”
In answer, a hand raises, emerging from beneath Brent’s desk, accompanied by a garbled “Mm.” Jones cocks her head, scanning along the rows of the lecture hall until she spots it, that mop of brown hair bobbing up and down on his classmate's lap.
“Mr. Orrego,” she chides, “do you intend on paying attention to my class today?”
“I’m taking notes for him,” Brent says nonchalantly, one hand guiding Conner's head as he plunges his length down his throat.
She glances again at that cloth around Conner's arm. More and more men around campus are wearing the armbands, designating themselves public sextoys, free to be used by any other man. She finds it all so… redundant. What else are the girls here for?
She gently clears her throat. “Well, why don’t you let Conner take his own notes, and use one of the cunts who aren't busy?” For god's sake, half the chicks in class are sitting at their desks unperturbed; that's just unheard of.
“Why don’t you mind your fucking business?” Brent says, grinding Conner's face against his pubes, hairy nuts pressed against the cocksleeve's chin, oxygen narrowly squeezing in through his constricted airway.
Professor Jones opens her mouth to speak again - something about "unwarranted degradation" or "respect for your fellow man," surely - but she barely manages a syllable before a hand comes from behind, grabbing a fistful of her hair and smashing her face into the sturdy faux wood of her desk, a wet CRACK sounding as her nose breaks, a trickle of blood blotting across her assorted papers.
Ah, she'd nearly forgotten Andre, who's been plowing her back door for the past five minutes… she'll have to remember to mark him present, assuming the attendance sheet is still salvageable through the blood stains…
"Quit being a bigot, cunt," he says, still slamming his hips into her, never missing a beat. “Let the dude bust a nut however the hell he wants.” He jerks her head to the side, enough to send a spike of pain through her vertebrae before shoving her back down, letting her shakily begin the day’s lesson while he pulls roughly on her tits.
Conner happily ignores the monotonous sounds of productivity around him, letting his teacher’s dull droning fade away beneath the noise of his own eager slurping, behind the overwhelming sensation of throbbing cock on his tongue, of hot jizz pulsing down his throat or painting his face that delicious off-white. He crawls his way from desk to desk, his own dick tenting his shorts, letting man after man have their way with him.
On the occasional glance upward, he can see he’s not alone in his task - in addition to the usual handful of femsluts getting fucked and snuffed, at least one other guy is on his knees beneath a desk, and another across the room is bent over his desk, taking dick in both ends
Fucking incredible how quickly male free use had become the norm on campus. Some guys were just born for this - to be used and ignored like the sluts they are.
Conner is midway through his fourth blowjob by the time the professor's slack corpse finally drops to the floor and students begin shuffling out. A hand gently pushes him back, the dick popping from his mouth and its owner rising to his feet. Conner follows suit, wiping spit from his lips and dust from his knees.
Conner slings his backpack over his shoulder, ready to head back to the dorm. But before he can leave, his companion grabs his wrist to lead him away - doubtless intent on finishing the blowjob elsewhere.
Well, he'll make it home eventually.
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Conner finally enters his dorm an hour and a half later, dropping his bag to the floor and slipping off his armband, satisfied after another fulfilling day of public service. He peels off his t-shirt with its several layers of semi-dried cum and wipes it across his face, smearing away as much of the lingering seed as he can before tossing it, too, to the floor.
Stepping into the room, he finds Xander kneeling on their bed, grinding his wet cunt against another guy's face, naked but for the bandages covering his chest. Spotting Conner, X eases himself up, releasing his grip on the guy's hair.
"Alright," X says shakily, still flushed with arousal, "my boyfriend's home, you can go." He sinks back against the mattress as his toy rises to his feet and makes for the door, straightening his own armband.
"Hey, Conner," the stranger says with a grin. "Warmed him up for you."
"Do I know you?"
"Nah, but your boy couldn't stop gushing about you," he laughs. He licks at the fluids on his lips, driving home his double entendre before taking his leave.
X gazes over at Conner. “Hey, man, before we, y’know, fuck each other into a stupor, you wanna help me with some gender shit?” He hooks a thumb playfully beneath his bandages, and Conner perks up.
“Oh shit, it’s time already? Let’s fucking go!”
Conner hurries over as Xander takes a seat at his desk, feeling his own wetness against the chair. He passes Conner a pair of scissors and leans forward, granting access to the bandages.
“You ready? Hold still…” Conner gingerly slips one blade beneath the outer layer of bandages, then gives a careful snip. They work together to unravel the cloth from X’s lithe chest until the last of it pulls away, drifting discarded to the floor as his delicate new skin meets the cool air of the dorm. The lovers stare into the mirror, admiring the outcome of X’s second top surgery.
“They look a hell of a lot better on you than they did on Alicia,” Conner says, leaning down to plant a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.
Skin that had once been Alicia's tits now adorns her kidnapper's chest, concealing the once gaping wounds where Xander's own breasts used to reside. Xander never had a chance to get traditional top surgery, but other than the difference in scar shape, his chest looks just as natural as any other trans guy. Short stubble has already begun to grow around his new nipples, rock hard in the cold air.
Tentatively, Conner reaches down, sliding his hands down X's shoulders, over his collarbone, feeling the bristles of his upper chest hair, down to explore the soft new flesh…
“Ah! Heyheyheyhey sensitive!!” X yelps, smacking away the inquisitive hands. “Fuck, bro. Jesus. Shit.”
“Sorry!” Conner exclaims, quickly pulling back. “Sorry. Sorry.”
“I’m gonna have to fuckin’ get you for that, dick,” X laughs, turning and delivering a sharp flick to Conner’s own exposed nipple. “Go easy on me for a few days, bro.”
Next Xander preps his HRT dose, loading up a syringe with testosterone while Conner kneels in front of him, pinching Xander’s thigh so he can slide the needle in smoothly. There’s no hesitation, no flinch as he aligns the needle and punctures himself. He's covered from head to toe in scars and burns; he’s well past the point of being intimidated by needles.
X pulls the empty syringe from his leg, raising it up and softly scraping the metal tip along Conner’s cheek. He grins at Conner’s nervous yet longing expression, trails the tip of the needle up over his lip, across his other cheek.
"Hmmm, no… I can't fuck up your pretty face right now. You've gotta look good when you come over to meet my dad this weekend…" And so the needle dips down over his jaw, runs down along his neck, traces teasing circles around his adam’s apple.
“Can I put it in?”
Conner swallows, heart pounding in his chest, dick pounding in his shorts. He nods.
X pushes ever so lightly, but then pulls back, leaving a tiny droplet of crimson running down Conner’s neck. “Are you sure?” he asks, holding back a smirk. “You’re fine with this? I have your consent?”
“Y- yes,” Conner manages, his mouth dry.
X chuckles softly, rising to his feet and pulling Conner over to the bed by the hair. He sits Conner down on the mattress, leaning over him, running the needle along his pecs, over his nipples, until they're both standing erect from the attention.
“So, you’re sure you don’t mind? If I, y’know, jab you with my used needle?”
Conner nods again.
“No no,” X teases. He drops his other hand to Conner's groin, feeling the bulge of his cock through the thin fabric. “Say it.”
“You can… s- stab me with your needle…”
X gives his cock a squeeze, scraping the needle back up his chest. “Ask for it.”
“Do it,” Conner breathes. “...please…”
X presses the syringe into his boyfriend’s shoulder, letting about half of the needle disappear beneath his beautiful copper skin, taking in that sweet little wince of pain. Then he nudges the syringe to one side, then the other, twisting it around and drawing out an adorable groan… Then he pushes again until the full length of metal vanishes from sight.
He leans down, pulling Conner into a kiss. “Good,” X says. “Thank you.” He kisses his neck, licking up the stray blood droplet, still massaging him through his shorts. Then, he softly thumbs the syringe. “It’s already in… you mind if I…?”
Conner shakes his head, but closes his eyes, turning slightly away.
“Conner,” X says, cupping a hand around his cheek. “Watch?”
Reluctantly, Conner opens his eyes, and they both watch as X draws back the plunger, and the tube begins to fill with dark red. X's cunt grows hot as his squeamish lover pales. He swiftly pulls the needle out, trailing a small spurt of blood that speckles Conner's chest.
"Good job," Xander says, licking another drop from the tip of the needle. "I know you don't like watching that part, but you did great. Now let's have some real fun, yeah?"
He wraps his lips around the end of the needle, quickly flooding his mouth with the coppery taste of Conner's blood. He sets aside the empty tube and pushes Conner down onto the bed, laying his own naked body on top and going in for another sloppy, bloody kiss, splashing his boyfriend's blood into his mouth and across his face as their tongues swirl against each other.
Conner slithers out of his shorts, his cock still slimy with the load he had blasted during his blowjob marathon. He never touches himself when the armband's on, of course - his purpose is to give pleasure, not receive it - but the continuous stimulation does things to a guy. Now, with X, he can really let loose.
He rams his cock up Xander's slit, his own cum mingling with X's wetness to lubricate them. X rides atop him, gyrating his hips, plunging himself up and down the shaft. Once he has a steady rhythm going, he stares lustfully down into Conner's eyes, then rams a fist into his stomach, right onto yesterday's bruise.
X moans as Conner's body jerks beneath him, stroking his t-dick with his other hand. He grants a moment of reprieve before throwing another punch, then another, alternating sides as he tenderizes his boyfriend’s abs, nearly orgasming from the ecstasy of his writhing, the rush of seeing the tears on his cheeks. X lights up a cigarette as he and Conner really get into it.
Yes, they play their little game of "are you sure?" And of course X would stop if Conner ever spoke up. But they both know Conner will gladly take whatever X feels like dishing out. They'd long ago established their boundaries, and once they're in bed, pretty much anything goes.
Conner is X's all-purpose pain toy. Punching, slapping, biting, choking… cutting, stabbing… this was far from the first time they've played with needles. After all, Conner's ears hadn't been pierced before meeting Xander. In fact…
X leans in, flicking his tongue at Conner's left nipple, tasting his sweat, wrapping his lips around it and feeling it grow stiff under his light suction. He grabs the syringe again, playfully rubbing it across the hard, moistened flesh.
"You ready for another piercing?"
His entire body tenses as X drives the needle tip through the delicate flesh, pushing straight through to emerge out the other side. His muffled, stuttering gasp-scream is too much for X, and he shudders in bliss, hot juices pooling out around Conner's cock as he continues bouncing on his lap. He plucks out the needle with orgasmic shakiness, lines it up with the other nipple…
Suddenly he feels the unmistakable sensation of hot sperm pulsing into his cunt, and he can't help but laugh. He tosses the syringe aside, slumping down into Conner's embrace. "Liked that, did you?" he chuckles.
"Mostly… fear…" Conner pants. "You were gonna fuck that one up… with your shaky-ass hands…"
"We'll have to do the other one next time, then."
X plucks out one of his earrings and slips it into the fresh hole in Conner's chest, caressing him, planting another kiss on his cheek as they lay in each other's arms, Conner playing with X's hair. X takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing out a dirty grey cloud before crushing the simmering ashes against the spot where he'd drawn Conner's blood.
"Cauterized," he says, dropping the burnt-out butt onto Conner's chest.
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A gentle hand rouses Conner from his sleep, still naked and sticky from last night’s activities. Xander is already awake, sitting on the other side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes. Alicia stands over Conner, bandages around her newly-flattened chest, otherwise equally nude. “Morning,” Conner says, sitting up.
X eases himself to his feet, letting out a series of pops as he stretches his spine, feeling the slow ooze of love juices down his inner thigh. Alicia hands Conner his phone to browse before heading over to meet Xander at his desk. As he takes a seat, Alicia grabs his comb from a drawer and runs it through his bedhead, unraveling the tangles in his short black hair.
The girl should be dead, frankly, and X isn’t completely sure why he still has her around. Sure, she keeps the dorm tidy, and she’s undeniably the politest alarm clock on campus, but to be honest, he can't fully justify it, and he doesn't really bother to try anymore.
After his top surgery, the doctors had informed him his donor was still alive - bleeding profusely, but alive - and since she was technically his property, he got the choice to either take her home or let her go out with the rest of the medical waste.
When he initially bandaged her up, he said it was just to keep her from bleeding everywhere, but… He can’t explain it; there’s just something… somehow… comforting about her presence. About the way she… just… survives. A certain… warm familiarity, to watching someone born female just… heal.
Conner never hurts her, not like his old roommate Gavin wanted to. She gets to just exist, in a way Xander never got to when he was a chick. It's… nice, in a bizarre way that he isn't even fully comfortable acknowledging.
“Oh fuck,” Conner says, staring at a notification on his phone and smiling like an idiot. “Bro, we gotta get dressed, I’ve got a surprise for you. We're going on a date."
“Alright…? Just a sec.” X nudges Alicia away as he stands, grabbing his scissors before turning her to face him. “Hold still.”
As Alicia watches, he begins hacking away at her bandages, strips of cloth and gauze drifting to the floor below. Suddenly he slips, nicking her collarbone and drawing a thin line of blood. “Fuck, sorry.”
They both freeze.
“...What?” she asks slowly.
“What.”
“Did you just… Did you mean to… apologi-”
In a flash he slices the blade across her face, carving a long cut along her jawline. “Sh- shut the fuck up.” He clears his throat. “Shut up.” Looking at the wound, he immediately regrets it, bringing a hand up to touch the similar scar on his own jawline. "Fuck. You're like a goddamn mirror, no wonder I keep being fucking nice to you."
He finishes clipping off her bandages and sets the scissors aside. Alicia stares almost transfixed at her flat chest - a mess of reddish scar tissue, nothing like the craftsmanship that had gone into X's chest. She gingerly explores it, blushing hard, overcome with odd, contradicting emotions.
"Th- thanks," she says.
After a good deal of hesitation, X ends up helping her bandage the cut on her face before leaving with Conner.
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Conner insists on wrapping a blindfold around X’s face before leading him to his “surprise.” He parades him across campus, holding him by the hand, sound and muscle memory X’s only hints as to where they’re going. For a brief moment he leaves X standing alone on the sidewalk, saying he has to “check something,” before returning and continuing their trek.
X feels his heart rate beginning to increase, estimating where they are. The door opens and the sound and smell hit him, confirming his assessment. His stomach lurches. The slapping of flesh against flesh, the grunting and moaning, the thick musk of sex and death, more concentrated - more pungent - than anywhere else on campus.
“This is, uh… We’re… at the fuckstop, right? I hope you’re not, y’know… uh, d- dropping me off here?” X asks with a nervous, forced chuckle. “If, ah… if this is about last night, with the-”
“What, the fuck? No???” Conner says. “Jesus, man, I think you need therapy.” Suddenly arms are wrapped around X’s body, and he finds Conner’s lips pressed firmly against his own. “Don’t even say stuff like that.”
“R-right. Yeah. Sorry. I just, uhm… I mean, I’ve only ever been in one of these once, just keeping a friend company when she got called in…” he says, wringing his hands together. “I’ve never really been the, like, target demographic, y’know? But I was kinda, y’know… the target, for a while, so… they kinda… skeeve me out a bit.”
“Shit, dude, I’m sorry,” Conner says quickly. “That didn’t even cross my mind. Let’s get you out of that blindfold; I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Soon Xander is able to see the room around him, see the line of guillotines against one wall, half of them filled by nude young women, the others still dripping with fresh blood, their former occupants stacked up against the wall, waiting to be carted off to the kitchens.
Two of the living girls are being pounded from behind by male classmates, the others just waiting their turn. With a climactic moan, one man slaps the button on his guillotine, and a sharp THUNK sends a chubby asian girl's head to the floor, while the man furiously pumps his seed into her dying womb.
Worthless whores meeting their brutal ends is nothing Xander hasn't seen before, but the device itself does freak him out a bit, so he turns back to Conner.
“Thanks. So, uh…… what are we doing here? And, uh, what exactly did you have to stop and check on the way over?”
“Oh, I saw a dude in the fountain, just floating there facedown.”
“Oh shit, was he okay?”
“What? Oh, no, not at all, no. Totally dead,” Conner says. “I just had to check his armband, just in case.” Seeing the confusion on his boyfriend’s face, Conner just grins, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around to see the opposite end of the room.
X rubs his forearms, trying to massage away the goosebumps as he looks at the women strapped into the opposite row of guillotines. Except, wait a sec. Hold the fuck up. Sure, trans chicks get called in just like cis chicks, but a lineup of that many?! That'd be a statistical fucking anomaly. No, that many dicks dangling beneath these fuckstop sluts can only mean one thing.
"Oh my god. Are… are those fuckin' guys?"
In answer, Conner just leans in, planting a kiss on his rapidly reddening cheek. X wanders over, staring in admiration at the array of meat in front of him - asses ranging from the plump to the toned, ballsacks both dangling and scrunched, cocks of varying lengths, girths, and degrees of arousal…
Conner nudges one man's shoulder with the tip of his shoe, drawing X's attention to his armband. It's a rainbow, yes, but with an unmistakable white skull emblem layered atop it.
"Rainbow armbands are free to use," Conner explains, "skull armbands are free to abuse. As long as a guy's got one of these on, he's just as disposable as any cunt, and equally eligible to get drafted to the fuckstop."
X is practically drooling. "And it's, like, the same kinda deal? They wear these fuckin' things willingly?"
"Yep."
"Holy fuck." X licks his lips. "Are, uh, you going to-"
"No no, I'm yours to abuse, nobody else's." He thinks a moment, then shrugs. "Unless you'd like that."
"No!" X says quickly. "No no. No."
Conner laughs. "So yeah, this is all new as of today; been in progress for a while. Eventually they'll be setting up some new equipment, so some of the guys can be flipped over. You know, let you ride their dick instead of fucking their ass."
"That'd help, yeah. More in line with my bits."
"Today, though, we're here for this." Again he grabs Xander and gives him a spin, until they're both facing yet a third row of guillotines - a little smaller, more elevated, with something far more tantalizing than necks beneath their blades.
A small lineup of men stand behind the devices, their erect penises jutting out through the foreboding gloryhole of each machine, balls resting softly over the rim. Xander approaches, letting his gaze drift across the selection of meat, some cockheads already glistening with pre under the belyingly sterile white light of the room. Then he sees it.
"Oh fuck. Oh my fucking god."
X sinks to his knees before the rightmost gloryhole, jaw agape, feeling the overwhelming urge to worship, bringing himself face-to-face with the most gorgeous t-cock he's ever seen, attached to a handsome young black man sporting some equally impressive facial hair.
Conner pulls out his own stiff member and drops down before the station next to X, idly stroking himself as he shifts his knees on the plush - if somewhat blood-dampened - cushion. He barely looks at the stranger's cock before shoving it down his throat, savoring the salty taste of his skin.
X, on the other hand, can hardly contain his fascination. He drops his shorts and begins to toy with himself with one hand, using the other to poke and prod the other man's equipment - pinching his cock, spreading and exploring his lips.
"Holy shit, you're huge!" X says. "How long have you been on T?"
"Bit less than five years," he says with some pride. "When I got called down here, I figured I'd just be getting my head lopped off; instead, I ended up here."
"Awwwgghhh nooooo, that sucks, man. This thing's a fuckin' masterpiece," X says with genuine sympathy, all the while feeling himself growing wetter by the second. "Well, we at least need to give it a good send-off."
The man bites back a moan as Xander begins sucking him off, lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing clit. Through shuddering breaths, he says, "Uh, by the way… my, uh… my name is Troy… but I guess that doesn't really matter anymore."
X doesn't bother reciprocating the introduction, his mouth preoccupied with more important matters. He sinks into the luxury of this stranger's cunt, tasting his juices, feeling his squirms. He wraps one arm around back to grope the guy's ass, letting his other hand drift away from his own groin and over to Conner’s.
His fingers wrap around his boyfriend’s cock and start stroking, quickly getting slick from the pre already streaming down his shaft. Conner follows suit, working his fingers around X's t-dick. Skin grows hot and breaths grow shallow as they jerk each other off, still making full use of the strangers' doomed genitals.
Conner senses his slut's orgasm coming right as he feels the approach of his own climax. He speeds up, humping Xander's hand, ramming his lips down to the base of the cock, until finally he bucks hard, blasting thick ropes of cum across the floor, right as another burst of spunk shoots down his throat…
SHUNK
With one press of a button, Conner cleaves the whore's manhood from his groin. The meat tears free, still clasped in his mouth, useless balls hanging limply against his chin, still churning the last few spurts of their final, wasted load into him. Their former owner collapses backward, screaming and clutching at his wound, blood seeping between his fingers.
Suddenly X is grabbing Conner's head, pulling him into a kiss. Blood flows into X's mouth and down his chin as he takes in the end of the severed penis, meeting Conner's lips in the middle. The tip slides further down Conner’s throat as X pushes against it, and soon begins to block his airway.
Stars flicker across his vision as he stares into X's eyes, silently pleading for him to realize what's happening… except, even as his sight tunnels away into nothing, he can see it in X's eyes. He does know what's happening. And he loves it.
One hand still playing with Troy's cunt, Xander watches Conner's eyelids droop closed, and he moans into his lover's unconscious lips, muffled by the hot slab of boymeat between them. He eases Conner to the floor, pulling the cock from his maw and laying it on his chest - now back to its normal rise and fall.
Turning back, he rubs furiously at Troy's t-dick, hand wet with slick, other hand returning to his own dripping hole. Troy shakes, pressing himself as hard as he can against the machinery, half to steady himself and half to show his determination not to shy away from the blade.
Right before Troy can experience his final orgasm, X smacks the button, sending the razor-sharp blade through the tender, engorged flesh of the man's sex. In the blink of an eye he's reduced to a sobbing, heaving mess on the floor, and a sliver of meat in Xander's palm.
He knows that the bloody nub in his hand, with the narrow, dangling slices of lip still attached, is so much more than just a hunk of boymeat. This isn’t just some incidental part of the body like a cis woman's cunt or a cis man's dick. X is holding five years of this man's past, and the entirety of his future.
Troy had to work for this cock. Work to forge himself into the man he wanted to be. He's proud of it. It's the measure of how far he's come, and a symbol of masculinity not incidentally granted at birth, but which he had to seize for himself. And he has just willingly permitted a total stranger to snatch it away forever, all for a mere moment's pleasure.
As he listens to Troy dry-retching over a puddle of his own blood, Xander presses the bloody dick nub against his own clit, grinding them against each other, the final person ever to feel its touch… Even as his body shudders in climactic ecstasy, he keeps frotting, his pussy juice blending with Troy's blood.
Finally, as he emerges out the other side and back toward lucidity, X shakily raises the meat, with its natural marinade, to his lips. He kisses it lightly before sliding it onto his tongue. He sucks on the raw flesh, relishing the juiciness. Then he bites down, gnawing, tearing, crushing, utterly erasing all trace that Troy's clit had ever been anything but a succulent mouthful, a mid-morning snack. And he swallows it down.
In a strained voice, Troy asks, "What, uh… how do you wanna… handle me?" At X's confused look, he elaborates, "The dick guillotines ain't fatal, at least not inherently. So whenever you get done using one, it's up to you what to do with us."
"Oh." X considers it. "Well, you've still got a pretty little set of holes, and I'd hate to, y'know, rob the other guys on campus the opportunity to take 'em for a spin. So… you can get going, I guess."
"Alrighty…" Troy says, wobbling his way back to his feet. "Th- thank you for using me today." On his way out, he grabs a pair of boxers from the disposal bin and slips them on. X catches a glimpse of the growing splotch of red on the front before he leaves.
"Ough, hey, man," Conner says, shifting back into a seated position.
"Hi, Conner. Have a nice nap?"
"Ha ha." Conner brings the severed cock back up to his mouth, casually chomping off the pink head and chewing on it. Then, through the mouthful, "Love you too."
Looking back over at the cock's original owner, still slumped and clutching his groin, Conner says, "Hey, pal, you're useless now. Go lie in the body pile until you bleed out."
As Conner's victim obediently shuffles off, X can't help but chuckle. "Bruh. Maybe don't, like, call a guy without a dick 'useless' around your trans boyfriend."
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"Yo old man, hot young twinks in your area!" X calls to his father, as he leads the way into his family home. Conner swings the door shut behind them
"We're not twinks," he mutters, amused.
"I called myself a twink, like, one time back before I started growing the body hair," X explains. "He started using it and never bothered to learn the difference."
The entryway leads into a small kitchen, where a large oven is already throwing waves of heat. The room has a vintage atmosphere, with faded, blue-striped wallpaper and yellowish flooring, with a lingering dark stain on the tiles near the banged-up old fridge
An older man steps into the room, with a rounded gut, a thick, salt-and-pepper beard, and a pair of glasses, yet with an unmistakable resemblance to the thin, clean-shaven X. He smiles broadly, holding out his arms and enveloping his son in a hearty embrace. Xander stands on tiptoes to meet his father’s lips, plunging in with his tongue, the two men passionately expressing how strongly they've missed each other.
As they break apart, the older man turns to Conner, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. "And you must be the boyslut Xander's told me so much about."
"I swear to god I have not been calling you a 'boyslut,'" X says, rolling his eyes.
"I'm, uh, kinda fine with being called a boyslut," Conner admits.
Xander's dad laughs, giving Conner a firm handshake before pulling him, too, into a hug. Soon they're all sitting around the dining room table, plates loaded with juicy, steaming meat, chatting and catching up on each other's lives.
"Thank you again for having me over, Mr.-"
"No, no, none of that," he laughs. "You can just call me Eric. Seeing this damn kid grow up makes me feel old enough, I don't need you mistering me."
“So, Dad," X says through a mouthful of meat, "how’ve you been holding up now that I don’t have to come crawling back to you every weekend for some dick?”
“Oh, I’ve been making do. Mostly I was banging Carol from nextdoor, but I'll probably be moving over to Suzanne now."
"Oh, is that who we're eating? I thought she looked familiar." X glances back at Carol's golden brown corpse on the platter in the kitchen. "She used to, like, babysit me, right?"
Eric nods "But I will admit, I do miss having a guy around to fuck. We don't have those fancy armbands out here." He grins at X. "Say, don't suppose you'd be willing to share your toy with a horny old man in need?"
All it takes is a permissive handwave from X for Conner to set down his silverware and give himself over to Eric. Technically speaking, no, it's not free use, not here. Without the armband, away from his contractual obligations to the school, Conner has every right to decline the man's advances. He is not legally Xander's "toy" to whore out.
He just desperately wants to be.
And so he lets the older man strip off his shorts and bend him over the table, his own cock dangling freely while Eric's lines up and forces its way up his tight hole, rocking the whole table with the force of his thrusts.
And so he lets them continue to eat without him, ignoring his rumbling stomach and his barely touched plate of food, listening to father and son casually chatting as though he weren't even there.
And so he lets Eric wrap an arm around his neck, pull him back against his chest and continue to pound him, feeling the grip gradually tighten, forcing him to writhe on the man's dick, driving him closer to orgasm.
And so he meets Xander's gaze, trying his best to silently communicate that no, his consent doesn't matter, only X matters - that he's just a slut, and it isn't his place to intervene - that it is X's choice, and X's choice alone, what happens next to his toy.
He's nearly slipped into unconsciousness when he hears the distant voice of his boyfriend saying, "Alright, c'mon, Dad, I said you could use him, not break him."
It takes another moment, but Eric releases his grip and, with a light shove, sends him clattering against the hardwood. His head is still spinning when the hot jizz splatters across his chest and face from above. Eric shakes off the final few drops before sliding back into his chair to resume eating, leaving Conner panting on the floor.
Not even looking down, he says, "See? He's fine."
--------------------
"Your dad's a good fuck," Conner says, voice raspy.
"Yeah, he really is." X takes a drag of his cigarette, cuddled up next to Conner in his childhood bed, still soaked in the fluids of their own good fuck. "He likes you, by the way. I know he didn't really, like, express that to you, since he was, y’know, busy throttling you. But he does."
A smile forms on Conner's face. "Thanks. Guess he likes me enough to let you sleep with me instead of him."
Xander's bed is large and luxurious in comparison to their dorm bed - even more so compared to back home, where he still sleeps in the bunk bed leftover from his childhood with a sister long since forgotten.
X blows a mouthful of smoke into Conner's face. "Don't worry. He couldn't have dragged me away from you if he tried."
Conner coughs, waving away the smoke. "Bro, that shit is so bad for you."
"Oh?" X asks playfully. "Wanna put it out for me, then?"
Before he can answer, X rolls on top of him, meeting him face to face. He opens Conner's mouth, grabbing him by the tip of the tongue, stretching it out. He grins, using his other hand to dangle the cigarette over him, teasingly drifting it lower and lower.
"I'm not hearing a 'no,'" he whispers.
Conner stares up at him with that adorable mixture of fear and arousal, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't try to pull back, even when he feels the heat emanating onto his tongue. The embers collide with his tongue, and X feels him squirm, hears the faint sizzle beneath his nasally groan. Then they're kissing again, hands running through each other's hair.
X rubs his cheek. "There. Now it's bad for you." Looking down at the burn mark, he reaches up to pull out one of his earrings. "Y'know, I've been wanting to do this one for a while… We don't have a needle to work with, but I can make do…" He grabs Conner's tongue again, lining up the point of the earring with the fresh burn mark. "After all, I already marked the spot…"
"Wath that a phucking pun, X? Theriouthly?"
X just chuckles, poking the tip of the earring slowly through the flesh of his tongue, drawing out the agony, watching the tears flow down his cheeks. When the spike finally emerges out the bottom, he caps it off with the earring back, giving his boyfriend one more kiss before rolling back off of him.
They lie in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company. It's Conner who breaks the silence, speaking softly, seriously, his every other word accented with the clack of metal against teeth.
“You can thnuff me if you want.”
“What?”
“You can thn- You can thhhsss-”
“No, I mean, I understood the words, just… Do you… want to die?”
“No, of courthe not. Who doeth?" He pauses. "But I’m going to, whether I want it or not. Eventhually. I… When we were at the fuckthtop, when you… I… that… that look you gave me… I jutht figure, if I can bring you a bit of joy while I’m at it, I’d rather do that than die for nothing.”
It takes a long moment for Xander to process this, an array of feelings playing through his mind. At last, he wraps his arms tightly around Conner, blinking away some tears of his own.
“Well, I don’t want you to die either.”