#gay fiction

[notyouranuj]

When Eeshan goes missing, the tranquil camping trip takes a passionate turn, blurring dreams and reality. 🔍✨

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Unveiling intimate tales that challenge norms, explore unspoken connections, and celebrate the beauty of diverse love.

[regalevansworth]

The butterfly effect🦋

Pairing : Chris Hemsworth x male reader

Summery : Elated and thrilled to be able to start off your career in the fashion world, your first assignment is to help create costumes for superheroes. But this elation brings a sudden change in your life's trajectory when a chance encounter with none other than the Hollywood sensation-slash-hunk Chris Hemsworth transpires.

Warnings/tags : Explicit, SMUT 18+, resolved sexual tension, oral sex, anal sex, age difference (you're in your early 20's and Chris in his actual age), size difference, biting, Choking, dirty talking, manhandling, strength kink, body worshipping, Mature themes.

Word count : 6.3k+

A/N : Serving you, my first Chris Hemsworth fic. Despite being so underrated, CH fandom will live. I mean....who doesn't love our good ol’ Hemsy, right? So, here it is- a hot and spicey Chris Hemsworth smutty fic. I profusely apologize for all my mistakes and errors . Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading it as well. And fyi, I envisioned Chris single in this fic. But it doesn't matter so you can pretend otherwise. Other than that, it's a legitimately sexy time. Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed. Enjoy <33

Never in a million years would you have thought of getting an oppprtunity like this. For as long as you can remember, fashion has always been a subject of fascination to you. The puzzle of fabric, needle and thread intrigued you so much so that you decided, at a very young age, that you'd be persuing fashion as a career. Your parents held no grudges on your choice of profession. They encouraged you even.

So here you are today, after 4 years of continuous study with utmost diligence and dedication, bagging your first ever job as the wardrobe supervisor of costume department in a 250Million budget movie. Which, also apparently, happens to be a Marvel Studios movie. The next THOR movie. Hence, to your inner superhero geek, it's a cherry on top.

Your interview with the head Costume designer and other production managers was pretty jarring as they encountered you with several complicated aspects of being a wardrobe supervisor. But you proved your worth with practiced ease although feeling a bit self-conscious of having no prior experience. All in all, your wit and knowledge saved the day. And you could tell from the look on their faces that they were pleased with your talent at such young age. But, today comes your first day at work.

Your list of to-do's for Day #1 is surprisingly not as overloaded as you expected. It just consists of a meeting with the whole crew and the director. It goes considerably fine, save for the revelation part where they delegate you the responsibility of supervising Chris Hemsworsth's entire costume fitting process. Thus, you get extra pressure of work on your shoulder. Nevermind that you are not nearly ready to face any of the stars of the movie and it's surely getting on your nerves.

Having been already moved to Australia, the production of the movie is continuing on full swing. It's the 4th day that the crew finally decides to start work on the costumes of the lead characters. As the supervisor of Chris Hemsworth's costume preparation, you, inevitably, have to accompany the rest of the crew (which is funnily of 3 members) to his trailer.

On the way to your destination, you feel the dread of meeting someone like Chris Hemsworth slowly looming upon you. It's no surprise to you that being gay you've always been attracted to particular alpha male like him. Sure, you had a small crush on him like the vast majority of world population, maybe you still do, but it's absolutely pointless, Isn't it? There's no way in hell he's going to notice much less give his undivided attention to some random guy like you. And he's straight.

Mind occupied with these gratuitous thoughts, you don't notice when the group suddenly comes to a halt in front of a wooden door, nameplate shining with the letters C-H-R-I-S H-E-M-S-W-O-R-T-H. You feel sweat slowly pooling at your neck and collarbone. You pull out your handkerchief to dab at the places and hear one of the crew member saying, “Are you okay, Y/N?” You look up at her and try to give your most calm smile, “Yeah, I'm okay”. She nods and waits with the rest of the crews for the knocked door to open.

God! Why am I feeling so nervous? It's nothing. I'm just going for a purely professional meeting with Chris Hemsworth. Big, handsome, hunk of muscles Chris Hemsworth. Nothing else. It's not like I'm gonna rip his shirt off and and worship him on my knees and then bend over for him at the first opportunity. No. I'm fine and I got this.

Realizing how ridiculous you sound, you pull yourself out of your stupid inner rambling and straighten your posture. When the door opens, you take one last deep breath and follow your teammates into the suit. The trailer finely decorated —as a star's trailer should be— but right now you can't focus on anything else but the man in front of you.

Chris Hemsworth stands before all of you in his all broad muscular glory. From the state of his physical appearance you can guess that he has just finished working-out and didn't take a shower after. Maybe he didn't have the time. However, his short dark blonde hair is disheveled and sweat stains forming all over the tight tank top he's wearing. You can see the outline of his chiseled abs through his drenched shirt. Inhumanly broad chest and fine crafted pecs are heaving in time of his heavy breaths. “Good lord” you mumble breathily at the sight of his arms and biceps that are the size of your entire head. Angry veins popping up from all over his biceps to forearms and you just wonder for a moment, how it'd be like to trace them with your tongue.

You immediately shake yourself off before your mind leaps up to dangerous territory and look over at the head designer who's now having a quick chat with Chris Hemsworth. Then, suddenly he turns his head towards you and beckons you closer. You visibly startle but head over to them nonetheless. “And this is Mr. (Y/N) (S/N). He'll be overlooking your entire costume fitting process” Your cheeks immediately flushes at the mention of your name and you try to make out if this whole ‘making acquaintance’ part is necessary as there won't be any business other than professional.

But, when you look up at Hemsworth you see his blue eyes already resting upon you. So blue you sigh inwardly as he steps closer to you and offers a hand, “Hello, mate”. His voice is so deep and resonant that you feel yourself swooning just from that. Clearing your throat, you take his offered hand to shake it and get instantly captivated by how strong and callused they feel against your soft palm. “H-Hello” you somehow croak out, feeling your cheeks and ear burn to the root. But looking up at him, you, for the first time get transfixed by just how handsome he looks up-close. His Bearded chin and jaw, strong-thick neck, and perfectly curved nose signify his classic but exceptional Australian handsomeness.

His eyes are a whole different story, that are now gazing heavily at you. You can feel the heat behind those deep sea blue eyes as an imperceptive wave of emotion flashes over them. There's a sudden fluttering in your stomache and the sensation is so new that the hairs on your neck stand at alert on their own accord as if detecting a danger.

However, the unknown spell is immediately broken when someone from behind Chris clears their throat and beckons the group to start the meeting. As the chatting progresses you start taking notes from each side of their own opinions and giving your own. But every now and then, you catch Chris staring at you from the corner of your eye. But when you try to look back, he turns his head immediately as if he's caught doing something wrong. I must be seeing things you think as you keep your track with the meeting and wonder just why Chris Hemsworth would be giving you the occasional meaningful glances. That's just too stupid and absurd.

By the time the meeting ends, it's already been 1 hour. After calling it a day, your team start to slowly file out of the room. Not wanting to be the last one to leave, you jump up to your feet in a haste and follow the others out of the room. You covertly take a glance over your shoulder to see that Chris is now talking —more like listening— to the head designer. But then his gaze shifts and locks with you for a moment causing you to jump in surprise and turn around instantly. You hurriedly make your way out without managing to trip over.

✯———————✯

It's exactly 6:30 a.m. when Chris' alarm goes off. Groaning sleepily, he shuts off the alarm and sits up. After waking up his first thing to do is to check the day's schedule. Today's list only includes a lot of workout and some interviews then script discussion with Taika and other cast members. Throwing the sheets off of himself, he climbs out of the bed and quickly grabs his towel to take a shower. Turning on the spray, he proceeds to rinse and clean himself.

As he does so, he can't help but shift his mind off to yesterday's events. He'd been notified that the costume team would be on his trailer to discuss some things. Which turned out to be total useless as the team was talented enough to handle things on their own. But he appreciated their concern of his involvement all the same.

But there is one thing from yesterday's occuring that possessed all of his rational thinkings. Well, not a thing but a person. A very beautiful and lovely person at that. (Y/N) (S/N). Yes, that was his name. (Y/N).

The man —more like a boy, he looked pretty young— had a very gorgeous appearance. With his beautiful (s/c) complexion, wavy (h/c) hair, a set of wide (e/c) eyes that he found himself lost in the moment he gazed on them, petal like lips that he knows for a fact that they would feel as soft as they looked. He also had an aristocratic body type. Very slender but sinuous and quite short at height. The sage green cardigan of his attire accentuated his beauty all the more.

Chris is sure he felt quite captivated by the young man and the desire he felt was also quite strong. He didn't feel such attraction towards someone for a very long time and he longs to feel that body beneath him, to hear all the sound he can elicit from him, to feel his heat engulfing him whole.

Not wanting to get hard, Chris quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and shuts off the shower. Then quickly toweling himself off he wraps the towel around his hips and goes to his suit to get ready for the day.

As expected, the day turns out to be quite uneventful but the meeting with the stars was pretty fun. After excusing himself, Chris makes his way towards his room but stops down shortly when a familiar voice calls out from behind “Mr. Hemsworth!”. Turning around, he catches the sight of the object of his sudden obsession making his way towards him. The young man is looking more delectable today. A cream colored hoodie accompanied with jeans making his appearance just as lovely. He's also wearing rounded glasses today which makes him look rather endearing as they highlighted his doe-like eyes and made them appear even bigger.

You stop Infront of him with a clipboard in your hand, allowing him to take in the scent of your cologne —fresh, and mouth watering sweet. He feels desire pooling in his stomache just being near you again. Having remembered you called him out for some reason, he smiles kindly, “Yes?”. His smile broadens when he sees a high blush rising on your cheeks and going down your neck to disappear under the collar of your hoodie, fully aware of the affect he has on you. You clear your throat and look down on the clipboard, “umm...ahem.....I’m just....here to inform you that we'll be taking measurement of your...umm...body...for your costumes so the team will be in your room in about an hour”. The full time you spoke, your gaze were anywhere but on him.

On the other hand, Chris was mentally devouring you the entire time of your forced rambling and without thinking, he blurts out, “will you be there?” He could've kicked himself for asking you that but the dumbstruck look on your lovely scarlet face, lips parted, eyed widened makes it million times worth it. But he immediately straightens up to make the conversation look professional. You peer up at him from beneath your lashes— a sight Chris is committing to memory— and nod, whispering, “Yes, I'll be there. It's under my supervision”. “Cool. I'll see you there, mate” comes Chris's jovial reply and because he can't help it and he really wants to touch you somehow, he grasps the exposed skin of your neck, squeezing it a bit.

Hand lingering there for a moment, He hesitantly retracts it but the softness of your skin on his rough palm left him craving for more. Images of him trailing kisses down your neck and leaving marks on the smooth expanse flashes through his mind and before he loses his composure, he flashes a wide smile and abruptly turns on his heels before striding away.

You stand there, shaking, eyes wide like saucers. The unexpected touch having made your rational thinkings go hayware. Head spinning thousand miles per second from the feel of his solid grip on your neck. Goosebumps still fresh on your entire body as you feel pulse throbbing on the side of your neck where moments ago his veiny hand rested.

How it'd feel to have those hands roaming all over your smaller frame? Holding you down as he pounds you onto the mattress? He could easily fit both of his huge palms around your hips

You shiver at the thoughts and immediately snap out of your reverie. Still blushing like a lovestruck teenager, you make your way towards the costume department's office, the interaction still fresh on your mind. Chris Hemsworth smiling at you, touching you. The same fluttering sensation returns like a thousand butterflies roaming around your belly. You shake your head again,. He isn't into you, you moron! He's just being friendly. Yes, he's just being his usual cheery self. Stop thinking otherwise. And Chris Hemsworth isn't gay for god's sake!! You mentally chide yourself, slapping at the back of your head once and twice.

It isn't untill one hour passes that you prepare for the impending visit to Chris Hemsworth. Just when you're about to gather your team, one of them walks up to you with an apologetic expression and you immediately know this isn't going to end up to your liking. “Hey, uh, (M/N), sorry to bother you but the other guys will be busy for next some hours with you know, set props and stuff. So, you'll have to take the measurements of Mr. Hemsworth alone” He rushes to explain again when he sees the shocked look on your face, “It's nothing difficult, really. You know how it's done, right?” You take a moment to collect yourself and nod unsurely. “Great! Good luck” He pats you on the back and hurries away.

“Shit” comes the first thing from your mouth and you know that you're gloriously fucked. But you also know that despite your current predicament, this work has to be done as soon as possible otherwise the pressure will grow on everyone. So, after releasing a long defeated sigh, you grab your things and head out. On your way, you pray to whatever higher power is up there to shorten your time alone with Chris Hemsworth and save you from the ultimate embarrassment.

Chris has just finished doing some light push-ups and weight-lifting knowing that it'll help broadening his muscles to make his body susceptible to perfect measurement. Just as he is about to grab a towel and clean the slight sheen of persiperation off his body, there comes a knock to the door. Musing it'll be the costume team, he walks over to the door, shirtless, and pulls it open. There, fidgeting like a nervous teenager, stands (M/N). But when those alluring eyes fall upon him, they widen almost comically. Never being able to focus on one thing, they shift from his face to his chest, abs, arm and every inch of his naked skin. He can't help but smile smugly at that.

Chris then sees you gulping visibly before looking up, face flushed so prettily and for the first time Chris wonders if you are a virgin. “Hey mate, I was waiting for you, come on in.” He moves aside to let you in. Seeing it just you, he asks, “You, uh, alone?” You nod, obviously more than nervous.

After an awkward amount of moment passes, you pull out the measurement tape from your back pocket and look up at him expectantly, “Shall we begin?”. He smiles, adjusting the ball cap he's wearing, “Sure, let me just clean off the sweat. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable” You nod and set down the notpads on the near table. After some moments, Chris comes out of his bedroom looking slightly fresh but the evidence of his chore is still fresh on his bronzed skin.

Unrolling the tape, you move closer to him and a wave of musky scent of sweat and ozone mixed with faint spicy cologne hits your nostrils. The man radiates musculinity and of pure testosterone which is practically overwhelming your senses, making your knees buckle. Trying to calm yourself down, you proceed.

Placing the metallic tip of the tape on his right shoulder, you measure out the length of his arm and then doing the same to his left arm. Following the same procedure you measure out the length of his upper body. Jotting down the numbers after immediately everytime.

Then you move to meter the width of his neck and collar and by the close promiximity you can now feel his hot breath down the side of your neck. Can feel his eyes boring onto the same spot and the delicious heat wafting off of him. You quickly dislodge yourself and move around to measure the width of his muscular shoulders, impressive at that. His eyes trailing your every movement. Gulping nervously, you shuffle around untill you get the measurement of his biceps, forearms and chest, eyes widening from the sheer size of them.

When it is time to get the measurement of his waist and lower body, you begrudgingly have to get down on your knees which seems to be only convenient.

Chris silently observes you getting down on your knees. The sight already having made his blood rushing south, cock thickening inside his shorts. He can feel your breath coming in contact with his crotch even with the barrier of thin fabric when you circle the tape around his waist. He is having an absolute hard time stiffling his groans. Multitude of lewd, pornographic images flashes through his mind, each one dirtier than the other.

You can clearly see the tan line on Chris's skin from where you're crouching in front of him. His low hanging shorts doing nothing to hide the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband nor the obvious swell of of a prominant bulge. You swallow thickly realizing you're eye to eye with Chris Hemsworth's very clothed manhood and how easy it'd be to just tug the ridiculous pair of shorts down and choke yourself on his huge Australian cock.

Chris is also having a hard time restraining himself to just smash your pretty face onto his crotch, fingers twitching from the effort. But when you look up at him suddenly with your wide (e/c) eyes and parted lips, he loses all the battles against his lust.

He picks you up in a flash. Ignoring your yelp of surprise, he smashes your lips together. The force of his kiss almost knocks you off balance. But you pull yourself together from the utter shock and wrap your arms around his neck. He wraps his huge arms around your waist and tugs yourself close even though there is not an ounce of space left between you, chests flush together. You try to kiss back as much as possible but you feel already delirious, mind hazy.

He eagerly sucks on your bottom lip. You moan in pleasure, making him groan and deepen the kiss. Soon his thick tongue seeks entrance to your mouth which you are very happy to comply. He licks the inside of your mouth, groaning from the taste. Tongues enterwining, you both lose yourself in the act. He bites your bottom lip and you whimper in response. His tongue is warm and heavy in your mouth, so as his body against yours.

He soon breaks the kiss and reluctantly pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips. Both of your breath became heavier by now and he looks at you so intensely that you, feeling somewhat scrutinized, look down with your hands still clutching both of his meaty shoulders. Curling a finger under your chin, he tilts your head up and you notice for the first time, that his eyes are completely blown away, the blues of his orbs are blackened by what can be called as raw hunger. You can't help the shiver that wracks down your spine.

Wordlessly, he slowly backs you up against the nearest wall and once more kisses you so passionately as if trying to devour you. Involuntary tears gather at the corner of your eyes from the light suffocation. If it wasn't for him, you never would've known that kisses can be this much pleasurable to bring you to hardness in an instant.

Chris absolutely loves the taste of your mouth as he licks around every cravice. Your heavenly moans and whimpers going straight to his already engorged cock as it's leaking a steady stream of precome inside his boxers. He wants to hear you more, the sounds he can emit from your sinful lips as he makes you his. With this single thought in his minds, he pecks you on the lips one last time and slowly descends down the long column of your neck.

He takes a whiff from the juncture of your neck and shoulder before pressing his tongue flat on the skin. “You smell so good” he purrs in a husky tone and starts to suckle on your neck, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your skin. You bite the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more embarrassing noises. But he's just making it so hard from his slow ministrations.

Feeling restless and too worked up, you slowly start to roam your palms around his strong back. Both your hands don't even come together from the wideness of his upper back. As he feasts upon your neck, you rake your nails on his sweaty scalp, making him groan into your skin. So far, you are completely ignorant about how things escalated since you step into his trailer. You just simply can't bring yourself to care.

Chris tugs at the hem of your hoodie, a silent indication for you to remove it. You comply without any question and as soon as it comes off, his touches become more bolder. Pressing both of your naked chests together, he kisses and nips at your collarbone, lavs at the dip of your clavicle all the while letting his teeth graze at the soft skin. He follows the same movement on your throat and jaw before taking your earlobe between his teeth and gently bites down. You whine at the sensation as he kisses behind your ear and issues one demand, “I want you”.

That's the moment you know you are utterly and entirely his to do anything with and you don't even try to hold back the Yes that leaves your mouth in a whine.

At your permission, he settles both of his large hands on your hips and marvles at how they engulf the entirety of your narrow waist. Still kissing, he sneaks his hands down your waist to rest them on your ass before squeezing both cheeks roughly that has you moaning in his mouth.

At some point, Chris aligns both your hips together and thrusts forward and your eyes immediately roll back from the hard press of his large bulge against your own erection. Yes, he is going to split you open and you will absolutely let him.

But first, you need to worship the Greek god in front of you. Trace each dip and swell of his muscles with your tongue, have that heavy cock down your throat and then let him wreck you however he wants.

Mind made up, you try and push him away to make enough room. He looks at you with a puzzled expression and then slowly realization dawns on him, perhaps your needy expression gave you away. But you can only care less as he grins and let his hands fall at his sides.

Having enough space, you move forward to press a shy kiss on top of his left pec. The muscle feeling hard on your lips as a low groan leaves from the person above you. Pleased with his reaction, you grow more confident with your touches and shower open mouthed kisses along every inch of his tanned skin, tongue darting out to chase the salty taste of his sweat leaving a wet trail of saliva in it's wake.

While your mouth is busy worshipping his glorious abs, your hands roam on his strong biceps and equally dense triceps. You can hear him panting lightly as his hands gently pushing down on your shoulders to get you on your knees.

Your knees gently hits the soft carpet and you look up at him wide wide eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Chris curses at the sight of you and combs his rough, thick fingers through your soft locks and buries your face in his crotch. You grip at his strong thighs for support and inhale his strong musky scent, making you moan and leak inside your boxers.

He's so hard and the press of his hard, long and thick cock against your cheek feels every bit the exciting and terrifying. You can feel the heat of his members even through the fabric of his shorts as you mouth at his covered shaft hungrily.

“Fuck baby, c'mon. Pull it out. I wanna feel your pretty lips wrapped around me”, rasps the man in his deep Australian accent, making you bite your lip from moaning out loud.

You scramble to obey him and tug his already unlaced shorts down to his thighs. And immediately, his engorged erection springs free and slaps you across the cheek. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you as you take in the size of Chris Hemsworth's beast of a cock.

It's long and as thick as your wrist, the tip is swollen and an angry shade of red with precum beading at the slit, veins running around the shaft and a thick vein at the underside, a nice thatch of dark blonde pubic hair at the base. So big. You drool at the thought of having it in your mouth and look down to spot his heavy looking balls that are not surprisingly also large, hanging between his thighs. They look so full, I wonder how much cum they can produce. You think in awe.

In no time, Chris grips your soft (h/c) locks and tugs you forward. You comply happily and wrap your lips around the thick spongey head. Throwing his head back, Chris groans at the feel of your soft lips on his sensitive glans. So hot and wet.

Pleased with his response, you press your tongue flat on the slit and lick up all the salty-sweet precum constantly dripping from his cock. The taste is strongly exquisite and you double down your effort to taste it more. Swirling your tongue expertly around the head, you try to take him deeper all the while gripping his strong thighs for support.

Chris watches is amazement as you continue to deep-throat him. Occasional low grunts leaving his lips as you bob your head up and down on his thick shaft. Spit and drool covering your chin as you gag and choke on his length. Chris swears at your relentless pace on sucking his cock. Even if you can't take him all the way down to your throat, you compensate with wrapping both hands around the missed portion. Jerking in time of your head movement.

You can feel Chris' thighs shaking as he presses one palm on the wall behind you and you realize that he is close. Moaning loudly around his cock, you continue faster than before and with both hands on his hips, you urge him to fuck your face. Chris immediately starts thrusting inside your warm mouth, a litany of curses falling from his lips.

You choke everytime the tip bumps the back of your throat but you don't give him any sign to stop. Drool making his cock shiny and slick as it travels down the base of his cock onto his heavy hanging balls. Wet slurping and gagging noises fill the room along with Chris Hemsworth's groans of pleasure.

“Fuck baby, I'm close. You want my cum?” Chris groans out between heavy pants as he looks down to see you looking pleadingly up at him.

“Mmm” is all you can say with your mouth full of his incredible cock but it's all he needed to hear before urgently thrusting a couple of more times and finally you can feel the warm rush of Chris Hemsworth's cum on your tongue. The taste of his sweet and salty seed in your mouth coaxing you to moan in delight as you swallow every single drop.

After he stops coming, you pull out his cock from your mouth with an audible pop and lick the remnants off of it. Looking up at him through your lashes as you press your tongue on the slit and wrapping your lips around it to give it a fierce suck to draw out any left behind, already hungry for more.

Chris watches with lidded eyes as his lustful gaze travels all over your body, blown wide pupils zeroing on your face. Cheeks flushed, eyes puffy and glistening, lips parted around his already hardening cock, chin covered in drool and cum, hair in a tangled mess. You're the perfect picture of debauchery and he can't waste anymore time.

With a hungry growl, he picks you up from the floor. Strong hands gripping the underside of your thighs to hoist you up in his arms. Taking the cue, you throw your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom, lips on every inch of your neck, his coarse beard a delicious friction on your soft skin.

Once reaching the pristinely decorated room, Chris deposites you on the bed, promptly climbing on top of you and claiming your lips once more in a heated kiss. It doesn't take long for him to slide his lips and tongue down your jaw to hungrily mouth on your neck. You can't keep the whimpers of pleasure that leave you parted lips which seems to encourage him to continue with his ministrations.

One hand fisting on the sheets and other entangled in Chris' dirty blonde hair, you arch upward with a high pitched moan as he latches his lips onto one of your nipple. Biting and rolling the hardened nub between his teeth before gently tugging and blowing on it has you writhing in his hold.

“P-please”

“Please what, baby?” Chris growls around your other nipple. You shake your head, tears of sweet torture skipping down the side of your face.

Raising up on his forearms Chris grabs ahold of your face and leans down to whisper hotly, “I want you to say it”

“P-please t-touch me” cheeks aflame, you breath out. Chris smirks but complies. Sneaking his hands past your stomach to unbutton your jeans, tugging them down along with your boxers. His hand immediately wraps around your aching flesh, completely engulfed in his big, sturdy hand. Your eyes flutters shut as a long moan escapes your throat, Chris immediately swallowing it down by pressing his mouth to yours.

With his sure hand stroking up and down your cock, you find yourself running your hands all over his sun kissed muscular body. You can't get enough of off him. The way he dominates you, makes you feel good and the way he overwhelms you with his equally overwhelming figure is something you're sure you'll never find anywhere else again. He completely ruined you—ruining you—for any other man.

It takes a while for you to register that his other hand that wasn't occupied are now busy between you parted thighs. One thick finger prodding at your entrance, making you jolt up in surprise. “L-lube” you choke out, knowing that his big digits won't be comfortable for a dry intrusion and you want this as painless as possible. But the thought appears unconvincing as you watch Chris nod with a smile and gets up to retrieve lube from drawer, his big cock bobbing and swaying with his movements.

Chris returns with a small container of lube in his hand, squirting a generous amount on his digits before coating them nicely and dropping the container on the sheets.

“Relax. Let me loosen you up, hmm?” Chris says with his deep voice that immediately soothes you, allowing you to take a deep breath as the first finger approaches you. Chris rhythmically thrusts his index finger inside you and the initial discomfort fades away as you listen to him saying, “You're doing so good baby. Such a good boy, getting ready for my cock”

Hearing Chris saying those things to you doubles your pleasure but it compare to when his finger hit that sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl and back arch, silent scream erupting from your throat, eyes wide from the sheer intensity of it.

Chris has a triumphant expression on his face as he thrusts on that spot repeatedly. And before you know, three of Chris' fingers are inside your ass, loosening your walls. Chris watched you as a string of pleas fall from your lips and he knows that you're close.

Suddenly, Chris pulls out his fingers, making you whine at the loss and the emptiness. Chris chuckles, “Don't worry baby. I'll fill you up with something much better”.

With that, you watch as he drops a generous amount of lube in his palm and coats his large flesh with the substance. Chris shuffles closer, pressing the tip to your entrance as he looks at you for permission. You nod without hesitation, aching to be filled with his monstrous cock.

As the fat head of his cock pushes past the ring of your muscle, you already find yourself breathless. Winding your arms around his neck, you encourage him to go on. And he does. Chris pushes the entirety of his large manhood inside you tight channel with one long thrust. “Fuck” Chris grunts from how tightly your walls are gripping his cock “You're so fucking tight”

Meanwhile, an actual scream erupts from your throat as you feel him reaching so deep inside of you, at the same time stretching you so wide. The pain and pleasure making your senses go haywire as a sob rips from your core.

“You're so- so big”

Chris can't response. Not when he feels this good. He can already feel the tingling in his balls, already churning and filling up with cum. He can no longer hold back. He needs to move. To pound into your tight- sweet ass till both of you can't remember your names.

“Fuck, baby. I need to move. Can I move?” Chris grits out, muscles straining from the effort of holding back.

Overwhelmed yourself, you lock your ankles behind his back and can only nod. But thankfully Chris notices as a sigh of relief leaves his lips. It soon changes into a look of determination as he pulls back till only the tip is inside before slamming back in with full force.

It jolts you from you position but soon after Chris' hand grabs your hips in a tight grip and his powerful hips starts thrusting without inhibition. It's like a dam has been broken the way Chris delivers each of his thrusts. Both of you are a moaning and groaning mess.

Chris hits every right spot inside you that makes you toe curl. You watch transfixed as his powerful body collides with your much smaller and petite one. Every single muscle in his body looks on overdrive with each snap of his hips. Sweat sprouting on his forehead, some of it gathering between the slope of his pecs making it glisten in daylight. Every fibre of muscle in his biceps bulging with how tightly he's grabbing your hips, sure to leave marks in it's wake. His abs also glistening from sweat, tightening with tension as a few drops gathering on his dark blonde pubes. In this moment of passion, you realize you have never seen a man so handsome, masculine and equally beautiful in you life. And said man is now giving you the wildest ride of your life.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking good”

Your response in only a choked moan. But you somehow manage to let out, “Harder, Chris. Please, harder”

“Yeah? You want me to go hard, baby?”

Again, you can only nod. But Chris grants you wishes. With one swift movement, he flips you onto your stomach. Roughly pulling your ass up and smashing your face onto the pillow, he slides back in. Every inch of his glorious cock and starts to pound harder than ever.

You bite onto the pillow to muffle your sounds but Chris leans down and grabs you chin, murmuring in you ear, “Don't cover your sounds. I want to hear them. I want to hear you scream my name baby”

With that, he pulls his cock back slowly, letting you feel the delicious drag of cock inside of you before snapping back in and immediately hitting your prostate. Your eyes snap open as he makes you scream as promised, “Nnghh!!!Chris!!!”

After that, Chris doesn't relent. He jabs at your prostate with his cock mercilessly. His heavy balls slapping against your ass as he thrusts from behind and you push your ass back in time of his thrusts to meet him halfway. Yes yes please please Chris words fall from your lips like mantra.

“Yeah? You like that? You like my big cock inside your sweet ass?”

“Yes yes” you nod your head frantically

“Tell me how much you like my big fat cock”

“So much. Please”

“Yeah? And what do you want?”

“I want— oh yes —I want your cum”

“Fuck”

Chris again flips you onto your back. Pushing back in and setting up his rhythmic thrusts, he leans down and starts sucking bruises on your neck and shoulder. By the time both of your breath becomes heavier and pants starts to grow louder, you can't hold back anymore. Without even touching, your cock is ready to explode.

“C-Chris, I'm coming”

“Shit, baby. Me too. Cum with me”

And with one last precise thrust that hits you right in your sweet spot you're coming all over yourself. Cum landing on your stomach and pooling on your lower belly.

At the same time, Chris lets out a low growl and comes inside you in long spurts. You can feels his hot seed coating your inner walls, painting them white. There's so much of it that it starts to leak around his cock, still deep inside you. Your cock gives a weak little twitch from the sensation and then Chris collapses right on top of you. Your lithe body squished beneath his sweaty bulky one.

“That was fucking amazing” Chris breathes out, face buried in your neck.

“Yes. I loved it” you giggle, looping your arms around his shoulders and stroking his sweat drenched hair.

Chris looks up at you and grins. Dorky and satisfied. “Shower?”

You nod shyly. Chris tugs you up by the wrist and guides you towards the end suite bathroom.

On the way there Chris slaps one of your ass cheeks and smirks suggestively down at you. “Next time, I'm eating this out before doing anything else”

You feel your cheeks boil as he laughs his famous booming laughter. But neither you can contain the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

Next time

A/N (2) : phew! At last. I'm sorry guys this fic is too much lengthy. I always feel the need to explain every single situation in my fics also very prolonged and detailed smut. And honestly it's so much tiring and mentally strenuous as fuck. So I swore to myself that I'm going to keep my thought process at minimum from now on. On second note, I don't know shit about a movie's costume making process, i just made the whole thing up. Guilty. Again, I'm sorry if the story longivity bothers you guys, I'm trying my best. See y'all soon with another of my groundbreaking fic Lol ;P

[velvettapeworm]

Some of you are familiar with my work already through itch.io or this blog, but I want to say that my book, So Sang the Riverman—a story which tells of the primordial world's destruction after the spirit of life, Fervor, makes off with the heart in Decay's grave—is now available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. If you have a soft spot for gay romance and "indulgent" prose, have yourself a look, and if you do decide to buy a copy, thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting my work!

[emoboykisser]

athletes are so hot!!!

the way he’s passionate about whatever sport he plays, pushing his body to the limit to be the best he can be at whatever sport he plays. maybe he’s a himbo who’s only focused on his sport….and his body, whether he’s already muscular or has a belly shows his dedication to the sport!!! the way his uniform hugs his body in all the right places, showing off every single curve and the bulge in his shorts….when he lifts up his shirt to wipe sweat off his face and his happy trail is showed!!!!!! what’s even better is how he treats you when you go down on him. after practice, you decide to give him a treat, one that he’ll surely appreciate! he’s a bit sweaty but who cares! it adds to the taste hehe….

you decide to start at his balls and suck them as your hand strokes him and he looooves it! but as you pull away, he whines before you take his cock in your mouth. breathy praises fall from him as he slowly guides your head down his salty cock: “hmmngh-fuck!”, “s-so-hmphg-good” he’ll moan as your mouth and tongue work their magic to pleasure him: you stare into his eyes which drives him a bit crazy but in a good way as he tangles his large hands in your hair, he pulls a bit but you don’t mind. after a while, he feels his release approaching so he grips your head and shoves it all the way down on his cock, his load filling your mouth to the point where someone of it dribbles down your chin. being bold, you lean up and kiss him so he can get a taste of his own load; he's a bit surprised, but he likes it!

need athlete cock in my mouth NOW!!!

[demisexual-eddie-diaz]

Being in a fandom where the “ship” is actually the whole point of the film/show/book is weird. Like I don’t have to make anything up.

Henry and Alex are in love and actually together. They say the words “I love you”. And yes there’s push back but they’re still almost completely accepted.

Nick and Charlie are together. They haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet but they’re still very much in love with each other.

Oliver admits early on to himself that he’s gay and is in love with James. And, yes, their story is tragic but they both still acknowledge their feelings.

Achilles and Patroclus have been in love their whole lives. The whole point of the book is that Achilles loves him so much that he’d give up his life for him.

What am I supposed to do with this information? It’s not like I need to go read fics to fill the void of them not being canon.

[newblvotg]

[hookedonhuge]

Ass-Man

If someone were to describe you there are only two words that would do you justice: ass and man. It was as simple as that. You’re a man and you love ass, and above all else, you love a man with a nice ass.

You were never shy about your adoration for men with nice round, smack-able backsides. However, there was one person that you kept this well-known secret from. It was your housemate. Your thick, caked-up housemate.

Despite how shameless your ass obsession was, you thought it was too much for your housemate to know just how obsessed you were with his assets. You might be an ‘Ass Man’ but you still had the decency to let your housemate live his day-to-day life without feeling constantly objectified.

In your head though, you did objectify him. It was hard to remember that there was a human behind those fat yet firm cheeks. You found it difficult to make eye contact with him, let alone get your gaze above waist height!

You’d often think to yourself: “Geez I know I need to stop staring at his ass and just treat him like he’s a regular guy but sometimes it’s so damn hard and he wears those silky shorts that accentuates his butt oh so well and every time I’m behind him he’s always bending over for some reason like he is trying to tease me but he’s so completely unaware at the same time and talks to me like a friend and not like I’m some ass loving weirdo.”

Besides the occasional cheeky glance at his behind, you never once succumbed and touched his magnificent booty, let alone made any comments about his rear-end (and your adoration for it) around him. But some nights it was just that little bit harder to contain yourself around him. Some nights you would take that extra step and go looking into places that you weren’t meant to see. That’s what you had done tonight. You went looking for trouble.

It had been a hot day. Your housemate got home from work and headed straight for his room. He took off his work clothes, crashed on his bed and pulled down his underwear to let his sweaty butt breathe. You had been eagerly waiting all day for him and his butt to come home, and you couldn’t handle not being able to take a quick glance. That’s how you ended up looking at his crack through the crack of his door, that he irresponsibly didn’t fully close.

Getting to see his naked butt, free from the constraints of fabric, was everything you dreamed about and more. The temptation to savour this moment with a photo was there, but too risky. Nevermind the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes away from it if you tried.

Watching him (or really his ass) through just a tiny slither between the door and the door frame soon became frustrating. You needed to see it in all its raw and unadulterated glory. Confident that he had passed out on his bed after his long workday, you started to slowly push the door more and more ajar.

It was all going well until the door betrayed you and decided to let out a mighty loud creak. You didn’t want to make the situation any worse by making sudden movements, but in hindsight (pardon the pun) perhaps you should have. Your housemate was quick to raise his upper body and turn his head around just enough to catch you taking a peek at him.

You thought maybe playing it cool was the way to go. You opened the door completely and tried to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were uh… sleeping and I just wanted to uh… ask…” Your face was a deep red and you were getting more flustered by the second. “Damn, is it me or is it a bit… hot in here?” You were sweating profusely. “It’s so hot… I can barely… think…” Your body felt heavy, your mind fuzzy, your vision blurry, and soon your whole world was coming crashing down… 

When you woke up you had a numb feeling throughout your body and you couldn’t move from the neck down. You wanted to yell out but you couldn’t as your lips had puckered and felt like they had been glued in that position. In fact, the more you tried to talk, the tighter your puckered lips felt. Your eyes darted around the room in a frenzy but you were locked into looking at a blank ceiling.

You felt a warm sensation in the sides of your mouth and your cheeks started to swell. Not like it was inflating with air, no, it was a different feeling. It was more like they were filling up with mass. You were sure you looked like a chipmunk with its mouth completely filled with acorns. 

The swelling did not stop there. Your cheeks kept fattening up, extending out a great distance from the side and front of your face. They were two round, fleshy orbs that were quickly taking up most of your peripheral vision and each of your expanding cheeks were now larger than your head. Your world was quickly descending into darkness as your cheeks were swallowing up your face. They grew to the point that the inner sides of each cheek touched in front of your puckered lips. This soon became rubbing as each cheek was fighting each other for limited space as they continued to balloon outwards.

Your vision was long gone and what was left of your face under your colossal cheeks felt like it had all mashed together into your tightly bound lips. The growth of your cheeks seemed to stop as a thin bit of fabric slid its way between your cheeks and pressed firmly against your puckered mouth. If you had to guess, each cheek was likely two to three times the size of your pre-swelled face. Another softer and more cushiony material hugged the bottom half of your severely bloated cheeks.

It was like your fat cheeks had buried you alive. You couldn’t scream for help, in fact you couldn’t move at all. You couldn’t even see or hear a thing. However, after what felt like a short eternity, a lifting of the thin material on your lips and the spreading of both your cheeks by a powerful force allowed for blinding light to finally flood back into your eyes. Once your vision had adjusted to the light, you finally saw what had become of you.

You were staring at your housemate’s gigantic ass (and it truly was gigantic, it had doubled in size since you last saw it) and his butthole was staring right into your soul. That’s when you realised you were looking into a mirror. That butthole was actually you staring at yourself. You had become what you desired most: your housemate’s big, fat bubble butt.

“You’ve added so much size to my ass,” your housemate groaned in pleasure. “My fit, tight bubble butt has exploded into a fat, jiggly dump truck, and it’s all your fault!” He put on a fake whiny tone as he said this, but in reality he was enjoying every second of teasing you.

You tried to respond but your puckered butthole-lips wouldn’t budge. “Oh, are you trying to say something?” He parted your fat cheeks even more with his powerful hands, allowing your lips to open slightly. A small toot of air escaped out of your mouth before your lips closed again. It served as a sobering reminder that being your housemate’s butt meant dealing with his digestive system too.

“Do you feel blessed or cursed by this little predicament you’ve found yourself in?” Your housemate asked with an air of sincerity. “Knowing how much you love my ass I bet you’d be grinning ear to ear, if you could!” He let out a thunderous laugh that caused your cheeks to jiggle slightly. “I’d like to know if you still feel the same way after a day of being my ass, let alone a lifetime.” It dawned on you that this wasn’t some crazy dream.

“By the way…” Your housemate removed his hands from his butt, causing his thong to snap back into your lips like a whip and your cheeks to accelerate towards each other. They slammed into each other with a loud, satisfying clap which sent shockwaves of jiggles rippling through them. “Don’t get used to staring at my ass, that’s the privilege that your old self had. Your new self is going to be experiencing pitch-black darkness ninety-nine percent of the time.” Your housemate chuckled as he gave his butt an open-palmed smack. It hurt, but you were never going to get sick of the way your jelly-like cheeks wobbled in response to the impact.

“It’s time to go to work.” Your housemate sighed with disappointment. “Well, today will test whether staring at my ass for all that time was worth it or not.” If you were capable of gulping you would have. You had no clue if you were in hell or heaven. One thing was for certain, your housemate turned owner was certainly not going to make your new life easy.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Your housemate said ominously. “I never really minded you staring. Maybe if you were more forthcoming about being infatuated with my behind, you could have avoided this fate. Anyway, I’ll never know if you’re happy about this or not, but I sure know I am! And since you are a part of me, shouldn’t my happiness be enough?”

You didn’t know what to make of your housemate’s sentiment, but he had a point. You can’t change what has now happened so you might as well try to make the most of it. You were once a self-proclaimed ‘Ass Man’ and now you’ve evolved into an ‘Ass-Man’. You’ve alway loved ass so logically you should love yourself more in your new state. It was easy to think that way, but ass your housemate but on his work pants, your world got even darker and a hell of a lot stuffier. If you still had lungs, then these cramped and claustrophobic conditions would have quickly felled you. 

But ‘Ass-Man’ doesn’t need oxygen and he will soldier on, for better or worse… 

[gayforeplaying]

Two Seductive Men Falling In Love

A Short Story

Luke Hanson was thinking about Marco Sanchez again. Marco was a creative soul with attractive hairy chest and face.

Luke walked over to the window and reflected on his secluded surroundings. He had always loved his cosy home with its nice nature. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel nostalgic.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a handsome figure of Marco Sanchez.

Luke gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a handsome, openminded, wine drinker with muscular hairy chest and magical eyes and face. His friends saw him as a lovely man. Once, he had even revived a dying, orchard for a poor widow.

But Luke was not prepared for what Marco had in store today.

As Luke stepped outside and Marco came closer, he could see the cute smile on his face.

Marco gazed with the affection as he approached.

Luke looked back saying, "Marco, I dream about you.”

They looked at each other with lustful feelings. Soft dance music playing in the background the two seductive men were enticing to the beat.

Luke regarded Marco's attractive hairy chest and face. "I feel the same way!" revealed Luke with a delighted grin.

Marco looked adventurous, his erotic emotions blushing.

Then Marco came inside for a nice glass of wine. They sat on the sofa by the fireplace gently touching each other. Noticing their growing bulges, the rested more closely together. Then the sound Marco made of slowly unzipping of the jeans restraint his erection!

Then Next…!

[aimuscleartwork]

Welcome I am Roma your new cell mate, I am 6ft1 and 325lbs, I see the lust in your eyes, looking at my 25 inch biceps, come here buddy and put your hand around them, oh a little close I can feel your hard-on rubbing up against my dick, feels like you have an impressive piece of meat, what is it 8 inches? Very nice, I like your build too, 5' 11" and 270lbs? that's a nice weight, I think we are gonna have a lot of fun with each other, and with the other inmates.

I am versatile and love take it as hard as I can give it, I love taking a thick dick like yours in my mouth and up my ass, I am hard as rock now, oh yeah grab the fucker hard, take it out, yeah I am not small either 9x7 with bull balls full of cum.

Turn around I wanna see that mancunt, ehmm nice Beefy hairy ass, let me get at it, it feels so nice in my calloused hands, I need to get my tongue in there, oh fuck it tastes fucking delicious.

Oh fuck, look what you made me you have made me cum, just by rimming your fantastic hole, quick get on your knees before I finish cumming, take it in your mouth but don't swallow it, spit half of it out and lube your cock up with it, and spit the rest onto my hole, Oh yeah get your fingers into my shoot.

Ehhh fuck you are not shy, fuck you are finger fucking me with 4 fingers, fuck open me up, oh shit, I need your cock in my hole breed me.

God damn it might be shorter than my cock, but it feels as thick as a fist, oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder, hurt me, you are good at this.

Hold let's change position let me get on my back I want to see you fuck me, oh you are so handsome, your tongue feels so good, you are a great kisser.

Fuck you are fucking me like a machine, I can feel you swelling inside me, I can tell you are close, breed me buddy, get me pregnant, fill me with your cum, oh fuck you cum as much as me.

You pull out whilst still cumming, grab my head and push your thick 8x8 ass destroyer in my mouth and flood me with your load, it tastes fucking delicious.

You take your cock out and kiss my cum filled mouth, let's get a rest for 5 minutes and then I want to fuck your brains out.

[hypertextdog]

hi @hypertextdog followers and friends. it's that time again

the process of elimination (tpoe) <- play here

this is my interactive ergodic web fiction project, the process of elimination !!! ↴↴↴

it features six endings, a robust original soundtrack (by myself), and a number of visual artworks, including the banners visible above and the tpoe ost's album cover, by @notwerewolf. other information (including many content warnings) can be found on my homepage.

if that piques your interest at all, feel free 2 join the discord here!!

more info on it below ↴↴↴

tpoe is an exploration of isolation, control, surveillance, and early 2020's-era internet culture. you play as harry arsigne, a 14-year-old cat artist living ~alone with his overbearing father, scott, in a decommissioned lighthouse in the shoreline town of conder, connecticut.

making choices through personality test responses, you'll balance your two hobbies: exchanging personal histories with and seeking questionable guidance from the set of five eccentric criminals scott keeps in his d.i.y. prison cell in the lighthouse basement, and using his surveillance software to monitor the online activity of one wren wayer*, a rather pretentious local high school sophomore and twice attempted gamedev with whom you have an at times overwhelming obsession.

* that says "wren wayer" sorry dark mode users

it is a whole queer ordeal with honest deconstructions of modern online teenager-hood, including fandom and forum drama, gay parasocial love, e-childlabor, and destructive codependent ldr's. it's also a crime drama about a father whose overprotective affection manifests itself as a sort of religious zeal pertaining to disease, water purity, and fucked up architecture.

it is really good and i worked hard on it dudeee. play ittt join the serverrr thanks for reading👍👍

[seizethenightagain2]

Man in an Orange Shirt (2017)

How passionately I’d have to kiss Oliver given even the slightest chance 😍😍😘😘

Followed by the inevitable tenderness of course 😊

[alpaca-clouds]

The Top/Bottom Thing

Okay, I need to vent about something. Because it really annoys me. You do not need to agree with me, but this is my blog, so I can vent about it all I want.

I hate how a lot of fandom stuff clearly assigns queer ships the "top/bottom" dynamic. I hate it so much. Because for the most part, it just tends to enforce heteronormative standards. Especially when we see who gets to be the top and who gets to be the bottom. Because, spoileralert, most of the time this is completely and utterly based on who is the more feminine and the more masculine between the characters.

Let's put a pin in that, because I want to talk about something else first.

*clears throat* You folks are aware that a lot of queer people switch positions, right? Sure, there are some that prefer one thing over the other, but in general a lot of queer relationships do not have "the top" and "the bottom". This is true for both gay and lesbian relationships. (And while we are on it: Some gay men do not like anal sex. I know, shocking, right?)

The reason this is so popular with fan related stuff (and also non-fandom female oriented mlm original fiction), really is that it kinda enforces heteronormative relationship dynamics.

A lot of queer people in same-sex relationships - especially of the millennia and older generations - know the question of: "But who in your relationship is the man and who is the woman?" Because straight people cannot imagine a relationship in which the partners are eye to eye.

In earlier queer anime/manga fandom we still had the idea of uke and seme. In which the uke was the girl in every way imaginable. It often looked something like this:

You had the big, masculine seme, and the soft, feminine, petit uke. In some manga it went so far, that the uke was even drawn like a girl. They tended to be like girls - just without breasts. It was also one of the main reasons for a lot of gay men in Japan very much despising yaoi, keeping very much with their own gay manga genre, bara.

Now, admittedly by now this has mellowed out a lot in yaoi manga. Newer yaois tend to have way less physical difference between the uke and the seme. While often we still have the scenario that the seme is more powerful and influencial, at least the uke is no longer "a girl".

Still, this dynamic then also got duplicated on fanfictions at the time. Basically fandom usually decided (especially with anime fandoms) that within a gay ship one was the uke and one was the seme. So in the fanfictions that followed, any canon characterisation would be ignored in favor of making the seme toxic masculine and the uke a little damsel in distress, who would cry a lot.

Now, most of fandom has grown out of this phase (thank God), and uke and seme has mostly been replaced by the idea of top and bottom, which usually tends to be way less extreme in the depiction. But... the general issue is still there, right?

Because... people still kinda subconsciously enforce the idea of a heteronormative relationship with queer ships.

For those who usually do not engage with this, quickly let me explain: The idea of Top and Bottom is about, who is the "giving" and who is the "receiving" part within a relationship. The bottom is the one, who gets penetrated, the top is the one who penetrates, to overly simplify this. But also generally it also kinda means, that the "top" tends in most stories be the one who holds the control or more control within the sexual scene. This is especially a big thing with male on male smut, where a lot of stories male it clear that one of the two characters in anal sex is the one who gets fucked, with the other one doing the fucking.

And most of the time this is very much based on who of the ship is the more outwardly masculine and who is more feminine. And yes, this even holds true for sapphic ships. Let me talk about some of my own ships, so you can see what I mean, alright?

Alucard/Trevor (Castlevania) is probably the least strong on this one. While a lot of fanwork has Alucard as the "bottom" - you know, the long haired, rather androgynous twink - his femininity clearly is a bit cancelled out by being half-vampire. So there is in fact a lot of stuff where he gets to be "the top". But still, there is a definitive tendency to have him as the bottom.

Hector/Isaac (Castlevania) is one, where I literally have never once seen a fic with Hector topping. Admittedly, I can understand it with them in so far, that Hector is not only feminine, but also clearly shown to be submissive within the show. So both things kinda go into one another. But, you know... While I have him be the submissive one and passive one more often, I do make a point of switching it around a bit. (And it should be noted: I have not found a single fic outside of my own, that even adress the fact that Isaac might actually not want to do anal sex, because the Qur'an is very clear on the topic of it being a taboo.)

Mizrak/Olrox (Castlevania: Nocturne) to me is probably the most offensive one in regards of Castlevania gay ships. Because while still fairly new, I only so far have seen Olrox as the bottom. Because of course the more feminine one, with a very masculine partner, has to be the bottom. *eye roll* Which in their case does so clearly just not even have any other possible explanation rather than "the masculine and the feminine". I doubly hate this, because this does play into a lot of racist ideas about indigenous men, but I will not go into that now. Just... why?

Joe/Cherry Blossom (SK8) is another one, were one partner is very masculine and one is very feminine in their appearance. And of course... this translates to like 90% of the fandom having Joe top and Cherry bottom. *sighs* I can't even...

Viktor/Jayce (Arcane) are a bit different, as neither of them is very feminine. Buuuut of course Jayce is still the more masculine between the two of them, so... yeah, you know it.

And again, this is even true for sapphic ships. I had people being very upset at me writing CaitVi a little kinky with a submissive Vi and a dominant Caitlyn. Because again, Caitlyn is more feminine, Vi more musculine. So oft course people want the relationship dynamic to reflect this...

And that... is exactly my point.

See, when I brought this up in fandom spaces, the answers I got were like: "Well, I just think that is their sexual preference." But of course not a single person could answer me, why that was. Why they think the more feminine (within a western understanding of this, mind you) would be the one who would prefer bottoming.

And that is without - again - going into the fact that not all gay people will have or enjoy anal sex and frankly, I find it unimaginative, how in so much gay fiction, anal sex gets depicted as the end-all-be-all.

I mean, I will openly admit that, yes, this does not only hold true for women writing gay fiction. Because there is a lot of historical baggage in this regard within the gay community itself. Because, yes, this was something explicitly forbidden by a lot of religion. Because, yes, this also is the one way (well, with the exception of 69) for gay man to have sex that can be pleasurable for both at the same time. And because, yes, there is a whole lot of just stuff of it being condemned and... It is a whole big thing.

But I just... I would just wish for it to be depicted with a bit more nuance. And for it to stop enforcing heteronormative genderroles. Because... god damn it. I am so sick of all of that.

[uwmspeccoll]

Steamy Saturday

"Creatures of the twilight . . . . driven to prowl their secret, forbidden underground."

"Here is the half-world of the invert . . . the bitter crises and reckless acts to which his irresistible urges drive him."

Julian, his friend, had broken away from this world of searing desire. . . . And then . . . he had committed a monstrous act. Page had to know why. . . . Because he himself, once, had been Julian's lover. . . ."

Oh, the steamy mystery! Dr. Tony Page is a successful psychiatrist, and when his friend Julian Leclerc, a handsome and talented young barrister -- and Tony's former lover -- is found dead, an apparent suicide, something doesn't seem right, and Tony sets out to uncover the truth. His quest takes him from the parties and pubs of the gay underworld of 1950s London to Scotland Yard and the House of Commons as he uses his shrewd and penetrating insight to find who or what was responsible for Julian's death.

Such is the premise of Rodney Garland's The Heart in Exile, a groundbreaking classic of gay fiction and considered the first gay detective story, published in this pulp paperback edition by Lion Library Editions in 1956. The novel, written by Hungarian émigré Adam de Hegedus (1906-1958) using the pen name Rodney Garland, was first published in London by W. H. Allen in 1953. It was a commercial success and was positively reviewed by mainstream publications, and it continues to maintain a significant presence in the queer cultural imagination. The cover art for this first American pulp edition is by noted American artist Arthur Shilstone (1922-2020).

View other gay fiction posts.

View other pulp fiction posts.

[bulkingjourney]

New Story: Unnoticed Growth Abroad

Mark had always been a bit of a food enthusiast. He loved trying new cuisines, exploring flavors, and savoring every bite. However, after he graduated high school, he had a chance to study abroad for a semester. Little did he know that this experience would lead to an astonishing transformation.

When he first arrived in the foreign country, he was excited to embark on a journey of learning and self-discovery. His classes were engaging, the culture was fascinating, and the food was divine. Mark's host family made sure to introduce him to the local dishes, and he was eager to immerse himself in the culinary delights.

Months passed, and Mark was blissfully unaware of the subtle changes happening to his body. He enjoyed hearty breakfasts, savory lunches, and decadent dinners. Every meal seemed like an adventure, and he never held back from tasting the countless new dishes. It was a dream come true for a food lover like him.

By the time the semester ended, Mark was ready to return home. As he stepped off the plane, he was greeted by a chorus of enthusiastic friends and family. However, their greetings weren't entirely about welcoming him back; they were shocked by the sight of him.

"Mark, you've gotten huge!" exclaimed his best friend, Tom.

Mark looked puzzled, "What do you mean, Tom?"

Tom laughed and continued, "I mean...

Keep reading, and also find Part 2 for a special price.

[hellolimitless]

Upcoming gay couple

Jack and Rayane (tomorrow is ours/Demain nous appartient) : French soap

Really early stage, they just met last week. It’s between a blind boy and a boy who can see, bad boy x good boy, interracial couple. Jack (blind boy) just recently lost his eyesight when a plane crashed in the beach where he was. Rayane, recently lost his father who was physically and emotionally abusive towards his mother and lashed out on him over being gay (he sent him in a private school in London). Rayane is new to the town and high school so Jack doesn’t know what he looks like.

Twitter of the one sharing it : JackxRayane

[fanfaron]

Adagio ovvero Largo. - A kinky Hannigram fanfic

Hi!

I'm Fanfaron, and I'm completely new to both the world of Tumblr, and the world of fanfiction.

I woke up a few days ago with just a burning passion to write something after having binged all of Hannibal whilst I worked on my latest cross-stitch project.

I hadn't written fiction in nearly two decades (and I don't read anymore, books nor fanfiction), and I used to struggle to pass even two paragraphs, so I was very surprised when I found myself spending an entire day feverishly writing this 6000-word homoerotic romp.

I've heard that Tumblr is the place to go if you want to engage with fandoms, and as an official Old Person I feel quite out of my depth, but I figured I'd give it a go.

I've also noticed that a lot of fanfiction writers for gay content tend to be cis women, and whilst they are absolutely talented and wonderful (I saw a couple of fics that were intensely steamy), I hope that my experiences as a certified queer boy might be a welcome addition to the scene.

I'm going to pop the entire first chapter here, and going forward I'll be adding new chapters on my (shiny new) AO3 account, and I'll update here as they go live.

You can find that here!

I would absolutely love feedback, thanks ever so much in advance.

This fanfiction is intended for Mature, Adult readers only.

Content Warnings: Power imbalance, therapist/patient relationship, suggestion of manipulation, sadomasochism, light blood letting, impact play

Adagio ovvero Largo.

Chapter One - Composition

The clock on the wall acted as a metronome, the rhythmic tick, tick, tocking of the second hand creating a reliable constant as swathes of notes streamed out amidst the mind of the man striding elegantly across his office. With each step, more imagined twangs of a mental harpsichord spilled forth from his inner recesses, relishing in past compositions whilst beginning anew with a natural ease akin to breathing. 

Dr Hannibal Lecter was not only a connoisseur of fine music; it ran underneath his very skin, unseen. Between the layers of dermis and muscle lies pitch, tone and chord. The blood within his veins created a coloratura as it spread across every inch of his body, a crescendo of sanguine liquid flowing into his heart and syphoning back out into the body that lightly swayed as it travelled across grey wooden floors. 

The arts provided him with a stillness, a calming lull of sweetness that filled his soul, and his belly. In moments of waiting, that fullness was enough to satiate his hunger for more unconventional cuisines. Such a craving was of course inevitable, but he was well versed in finding other ways to seek mediary satisfaction.

His slender fingers stretched out by his sides as he meandered across his broad, tastefully decorated office, fingertips lifting and dipping with each note that played out behind his eyes, his digits moving in perfect measure as though to truly caress the ivory keys.

As his ring finger began to press down to strike another mental chime, a sharp knock at the door rang through his skull and the music was brought to an abrupt silence. The first knock was met with a second, more hesitant dull thud, as though the person who stood behind the door was taken aback by their own sound. Hannibal immediately knew who possessed such a second guessing nature. 

“Come in, Will.” His own low, precisely measured voice broke the silence this time, as he made his way over to his desk, leaning back against the solid frame.

The door opened, revealing the smaller-framed man that was FBI profiler Will Graham, an air of apprehension practically radiating off of his body and into the stillness of the confined space of Dr Lecter’s office. He pressed his back against the door, closing it with his physique, his eyes only briefly flitting to glance at his duty-bound therapist. 

“You knew it was me,” he mumbled simply, “I know that this isn’t our... allotted time.” Dark curls of hair fell over his glasses as he looked down at the floor, his skin pale and adorned with beads of perspiration. He was dishevelled, at least more so than usual.

“I suppose I have a knack for prediction,” Hannibal replied with a hint of a smile, “And you know that you are always welcome, Will. I was not otherwise engaged.”

A ragged sigh spilled from Will’s lips as he stepped towards one of the two dark leather armchairs, looking almost as though his knees would buckle as he firmly grasped the back of the chair, his knuckles briefly turning white as he squeezed the material. “I… lost time again. I feel as though my own memories are being ripped straight out of my head.”

“Where did you find yourself?” the older man asked, hoisting himself forward from his desk to join the panicked fawn before him, smoothing out his dusky blue plaid jacket as he lowered himself into the other chair. 

“...Here.” There was a bitter resentment in Will’s response, his voice breathy and his face contorted as it escaped his mouth. “I was outside the building, but I don’t know… I don’t remember how I got here.”

“Perhaps your subconscious is trying to protect you, and take you to where you need to be. A safe place.” Hannibal extended his palm, inviting Will to join him, who did so with a visibly shaky reluctance as he sank into the chair opposite.

“Is this a safe place, Dr Lecter?” Will finally raised his eyes to meet the good Doctor’s. Though now both perched on the same level, he both looked and felt infinitely smaller in his seat, his wrinkled shirt stained with dark patches of sweat that made him look strangely sunken.

Hannibal didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to search Will’s eyes for more information. The blues of his irises seemed almost stormy, dulled with anxiety and uncertainty. He glanced away, aware that staring can cause a more vulnerable animal to bolt, before responding, “If that is what you need it to be, yes.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, distrusting, as he began to pick at his nails, his breath still unsteady. “So it’s not always safe, then.” 

“It is what the patient needs it to be, Will. Do you perhaps think that you thrive better in an environment fraught with danger?” This time Hannibal’s eyes were unwavering, boring into Will’s with this question. If Will was going to withdraw his trust, Hannibal was going to be less inclined to a gentle approach.

“You’d probably think so, wouldn’t you,” Will almost laughed, but there was no humour in his tone. He tried to hold the other man’s gaze, becoming aware that behind his professional demeanour was an impending sense of a predator considering its prey. “That seems to be all life is these days. Danger. Are you dangerous, Dr Lecter?”

The smirk that curled up against Hannibal’s lips was an undisciplined response, but not one he tried to disguise immediately. Instead he rose from his chair and approached the rather traumatised, younger man, stepping behind him so that he could observe, but not be observed. 

“We all possess the capacity for malevolence, Will,” he replied softly, looking down at the paltry shape of a man before him. His eyes drew across his shoulders, hunched and pathetic, his unkempt hair that glistened with panicked sweat from his sleep walking, and finally his gaze landed upon the nape of his neck. 

“Y-yes, well, I’d rather not be exposed to it, if it’s all the same,” Will contested from his seat, shifting uncomfortably as he felt Hannibal’s eyes burning into him from behind.

Burn they did, as he studied the small patches of skin between hair and shirt, glimpses of naked flesh he could not ignore. Hannibal had known for some time now that Will Graham was not an adversary, nor a patient, nor quite a meal. But rather he was the other side to his coin, something to consume that would make him whole. 

He placed a hand gingerly upon Will’s shoulder, causing the man to flinch instinctively, but he kept it rested there. “I assure you, you are safe here.” With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes of which the younger man was none the wiser, Hannibal leaned in to place his lips beside Will’s ear, where he continued in a hushed purr, “Unless you do not want to be.” 

The prey had been startled, the fawn had bucked, and Will Graham unceremoniously launched himself out of his seat, his knees colliding with the ground before clumsily pushing himself off of the floor. He swung around, staring at Hannibal with wide, wild eyes. He held a hand tightly to his ear, gripping it as though wounded.

“One would think I had just bitten you,” Hannibal murmured, his voice dripping with beguiling satisfaction as Will glared at him through a haze of red-cheeked embarrassment and rage. “Of course, that could be arranged.”

“What are you doing!?” Will sputtered, surprising even himself with how his voice cracked as it left his lips, but then his tone lowered and emitted an unmistakable sense of having been the victim of betrayal. “Am I not suffering enough for you?”

Hannibal stretched into a standing position from where he had been leaning, his long limbs looking almost feline. Once again he neatened his suit, and his russet eyes landed upon his prey with a hint of arrogance. “Do you not relish suffering? You almost seem to seek it out, do you not?”

“I do not!” Will snapped, his voice raising with very little self control. He folded his arms across his torso in an attempt to disguise the quiver rising in his fingers, determined to hold his ground despite the disorientation that brought him into this situation. 

“Then release yourself from it.” Hannibal’s voice spilled forth with a darker tone, a suggestion of a dare. He began to make his way towards Will, who stepped backwards at equal pace. “Take control of your suffering and release yourself, or stop fighting it and accept who you are.”

“I don’t—” Will’s words were interrupted by the collision of a bookcase against his back, radiating through to his chest and stealing his voice. His eyes glanced around wildly as if to find a way to escape, but before he could even think he was being stared down. 

“You revel in pain.” This last word was punctuated by the thud of Hannibal’s palm thrusting against the thick spine of a book beside Will’s head. “Whether that’s taking a life, or inviting others to bring harm to your door. Or perhaps turning up at their door.” 

The shorter man avoided the heat of a gaze upon him, eye contact felt unnecessary at the best of times but this was downright invasive. “...Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” Panicked or not, he would not be outdone.

“It is a personal one,” Hannibal responded frankly, his shadow cast over the other man, causing any reflection in his glasses to vanish and give a clear glimpse of the thick lashes covering the eyes refusing to look back at him. 

“Your personal opinion…” Will began, his breath stuttering, their closeness now bringing a sense of claustrophobia that seemed to steal the very air from his lungs. “...Is that I want you to-... hurt me?” It was as though the word ‘hurt’ had to be forcibly wrenched from his tender insides, carrying a strange weight of perversion.

Hannibal leaned in and lowered his lips to Will’s ear once more, taking delight in the way that his body stiffened as he braced himself for the hot breath soon to be tickling his flesh, already tinged pink with a rush of blood. “...Don’t you?” 

Will’s breath caught in his gullet as his face seared with embarrassment and confusion. His abdomen was a mess of knotted organs, a dull aching sickness rising to his sternum with a peculiar sense of guilt. “I don’t-...” He furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to phrase his reply. “I’ve never considered it.”

A deep inhalation through his nostrils caused Hannibal’s eyelids to flutter closed. Top notes of the lingering remnants of a familiar, unsuitably cheap aftershave. Fighting to overtake that scent were the salty middle notes of apprehension, the fragrance of a cold sweat from a frightful awakening. Finally, base notes of what can only be described as irrefutably Will Graham; musky beech trees, the faintest hint of a tulip poplar, and a not entirely unpleasant whiff of wet dog.

“Are you considering it now?” He dipped his face ever so slightly as he spoke in a deliberately soft and slow inflection, his mouth passing Will’s earlobe, the tip of his nose brushing across a layer of stubble, for which he was rewarded a small jolt of Will’s frame. He allowed the combination of earthy scents to fill his lungs, as his lips hovered below an enticing jawline.

Will frowned, unable to comprehend exactly how he was to approach this situation. He was caught in a bear trap, but curiosity halted his desire to flee. He had his suspicions about Dr Lecter’s decorum behind closed doors, and he certainly expected a degree of unorthodox psychiatric practices, but this was something even his deeply rooted empathy could not have foreseen. 

Then there was the unexpected closeness of this man he had been having deeply intimate, professional conversations with, who had witnessed some of his nethermost insecurities and traumas. Physical contact was not on his list of priorities, let alone a communion which not only flushed his skin and caused his heartbeat to echo against his eardrums, but also carried an underlying current of saccharine sadism. 

“...I don’t think I have much choice, do I? You’ve planted the idea in my head. Probably not a first for you.” His voice was calmer; he could feel a part of his psyche giving in to defeat, a faint hint of submission. 

“There’s always a choice, Will.” Hannibal drew back to meet Will face to face. He knew that if things were to proceed in his favour that this was a point that was crucial to communicate, even if in his mind autonomy was not truly in Will’s hands, but his own. “You can choose to leave, our impromptu night session drawn to an end. Or you can stay, and consider my words further.”

“It’s your actions that I’m worried about,” Will muttered, reaching up to rub his temple, only to be reminded of his glasses. He pulled them from behind his ears, massaging the side of his forehead with one hand, as though to soothe himself. 

“May I?” Hannibal reached out a hand towards Will’s glasses, and although a tad perplexed he handed them over without question. Hannibal travelled over to his desk, placing the glasses down neatly upon the mahogany surface. 

This allowed Will a moment of reprieve and he took several deep breaths, finally able to free his back from being pressed up against a rigid wooden column, and no longer trapped under excruciatingly close contact. 

“So, there’s the door. What will your choice be?” Hannibal spun on his heel, standing by his desk so that there was now a clear path from Will to the door. He extended an offer of freedom and self-determination, yet the confidence ringing in his voice suggested a predetermined outcome. 

Will did not respond. He simply stood, thoughts racing, studying the handsome Lithuanian. He felt as though his feet were glued to the floor, torn between self preservation and painfully alluring morbid curiosity. Ultimately an out was provided, and he simply did not take it. 

“Well then,” Hannibal continued, after allowing Will some time to fester on the spot. He carefully removed his jacket before laying it delicately across the desk, then moved to unbutton and remove his waistcoat. “Take off your shirt.”

“Sorry- what?” Will stumbled over his words, eyes frantic as he watched Hannibal begin to remove his cufflinks and roll his white sleeves up towards his elbows. “Wait, I didn’t-, I’m not—” 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Will.” Blunt, to the point, and stated without even looking at the wounded creature stuttering across the room, Hannibal instead focused on pulling at and tidying his sleeves in place, ensuring his forearms would be comfortable for the acts to come. 

Will stared, dumbfounded. Those were not words he was expecting to hear that day, let alone from Dr Hannibal Lector. Blood rushed to his face, a bizarre concoction of emotions flooding his brain. There was a twinge of excitement at the unexpected imagery that he tried to shoo away, followed by an even more unexpected sense of indignation; he couldn’t help but take offence on some level. 

“Will. Your shirt,” Hannibal repeated, noticing that Will had yet to react to his instructions. “Unless you require some assistance.”

“No, no, I got it.” Feeling a little lost, Will simply began to follow instructions, and unbuttoned his shirt. As he began to remove the garment he realised just how much he had recovered from his earlier panic, the air feeling cold against his skin from where it had been slick with sweat, causing goosebumps to prickle up across his arms and chest, fine hairs standing on end. 

“Good. Now, face the wall.” Another instruction delivered curtly. 

Will raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘excuse me, come again?’ but he said nothing, just staring for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before turning slowly and moving towards the wall beside the bookcase, his shirt still gripped tightly in one hand. 

The sound of footsteps alerted him as he stared at the wine coloured wall before him, and a sense of dread began to overtake any sense of composure he had regained. A hand reached around from behind him, startling him into a small jump, as Hannibal took his shirt from his grasp and disappeared from his side. 

He heard the soft slide and click of a drawer being opened and closed, before Hannibal’s voice penetrated his mind with yet more instructions. “Place your hands up against the wall.”

It was beginning to feel like some sort of ludicrous police arrest role play, a parody of what he had witnessed so many times now, but Will did as he was told, feeling as though he had come too far to back down now. He planted his hands up against the cold paint, experiencing some small reassurance in his chest no longer being exposed, but that sense of security would be short-lived. 

First he heard the sound of Hannibal’s shoes on the hardwood floor behind him once more, then he recognised the presence of the taller man looming over his figure. He expected more instructions, but instead what he received was a perplexing epiphany. 

Leaning in close enough for his lips to now make direct contact with Will’s ear, moving beyond the tease of breath and instead sending a small bolt of electricity that penetrated his flesh and punctured his spine, Hannibal softly whispered a simple praise, “Good boy.”

A gasp stifled its way out of Will’s diaphragm and for a split second his knees threatened to give way beneath him, a hand momentarily shifting against the wall. In a heartbeat his breathing became laboured, the air knocked out of him by two words. He was thankful that Hannibal could not see his face, a mix of bewilderment and thrill. 

Hannibal was equally grateful that the grin spreading across his lips would not be shared with his prey. He inhaled deeply against Will’s skin, a faint dizziness dancing across his forehead as he detected the subtlety of a new, growing bouquet. Arousal.

“Do you know what vampire gloves are, Will?” He broke the silence, hoping to deceive that he had not sensed Will’s reaction to his words.

“...No,” Will replied weakly, trying to regain composure, praying that the wall would either somehow support him or crumble beneath his grip and provide escape. 

“Then let us test your senses, and see if you can describe to me what you believe you are feeling.” Hannibal continued to speak in a tone that hardly differed from that of what Will would hear during their sessions, but now affording him an entirely new form of trepidation.

Will jumped immediately at the first sensation, struggling to keep his hands in place. It was as though a hundred cold needles were being pressed into his shoulder blade. Not painful, the pressure was light, but unusual enough to take him by surprise. He felt the series of needles being towed across his skin, down along the left side of his back at a cruelly lethargic speed. 

“...Spikes?” he asked with a pondering hesitation. 

“Yes, good. A leather glove, the fingers of which have been pierced from within with many tiny, metal spikes, like a chorus of vampire fangs,” Hannibal explained matter-of-factly, continuing to stroke his gloved hand along the left side of Will’s back from top to bottom, occasionally running a sharp finger along the nape of his neck, causing small sighs to erupt from between his lips. 

The rhythmic stroking was not at all unpleasant, but rather began to lull Will into an almost sleepy haze, the gentle scratches along his skin making his muscles glow with a soft warmth. It felt almost as if he was being petted, and each time a finger approached his neck or the small of his back he found himself instinctively flexing into the sensation. 

“They have the ability to tease…” Hannibal’s voice drew quieter as he focused on his actions, his eyes tracing the small red lines created by his glove. He brought himself closer to the man’s blushing back, replacing the glove this time with his mouth, planting a chaste kiss that charred with the heat radiating from the base of Will’s neck. 

Just as he was rewarded with a surprised gasp from the other man, he continued, “...And to torture.” With this he moved his gloved hand to the right side of Will’s back, planted it upon his scapula, and dug firmly into the flesh of his shoulder.

A pained moan emitted from below him, but Hannibal did not relent. Will instinctively writhed, his back contorting to flee the assault, small gasps and pained sounds pouring from him, but still Hannibal held firm. He placed his bare hand against Will’s upon the wall, though it was not clear if this was to support him or to trap him. 

“Dr L-Lector—” Will choked, feeling the surprise of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, struggling to keep his posture upright as the man’s hand pushed harder into his skin. 

“Endure it,” Hannibal practically growled in Will’s ear, a feverish tone domineering over his usual calm demeanour, his fingers now intertwining with Will’s against the wall. “Endure,” he repeated, before dragging his gloved hand down along Will’s back, from the shoulder blade and further along the pale landscape of flesh, a brief moment feeling like an eternity as gasps and whimpers filled the office. 

His hand stopped above Will’s hip, but he did not withdraw. Instead he began to dig into this new patch of virgin territory, squeezing at the small amount of fat tissue beneath the skin. All the while the thin, needle-sized trails from his shoulder blade began to bead with droplets of blood, a stream of budding lines swelling and rising, his skin growing redder with every passing second.

Finally, Hannibal released his grasp, and the sound that escaped Will was one he didn’t recognise, a strained moan he had never heard uttered from his own mouth before. His breathing was quick and shallow, his heart thumped inside his chest, and he felt as though he had run a marathon. 

“...Good boy,” Hannibal uttered, his head now upon Will’s shoulder from behind, and it was at this point that Will realised how laboured they both were, with intermingled rapid breaths, and equally hot cheeks pressed together. 

Those words began to ring in Will’s head as the pain across his back started a transformation, the blistering agony instead taking on a sharp, stinging ache that prickled at his skin in a way that baffled his brain with waves of adrenaline-fuelled pleasure. If this was torture, it was delectable.

In a brief lapse of self control, Hannibal took the side of Will’s ear between his teeth, gently grazing against the lobe in a manner most contradictory of his instincts, his tongue beginning to probe the sensitive organ, prying small, sweet sounds from Will’s lips. 

But bliss is not why they were there.

Will let out a satisfactory sigh as he succumbed to the sensations of Hannibal’s unexpected intimacy, but it was soon caught in his throat as the vampire gloved hand snaked its way around the side of his neck opposite to Hannibal’s oral torture, slowly creeping up along the nape before seizing its target. 

“Aah, Hannibal—” He winced and buckled a little, not even noticing that he had resorted to his therapist’s first name, but the other man certainly noticed and made sure to reward such familiarity by clamping his hand down firmer upon the back of Will’s head.

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asked in a low voice, the vibrations of his purr reverberating against the side of Will’s face, metal spikes clawing downwards at a snail’s pace.

Will’s breathing stuttered and his eyes closed tightly, the pained tears that had escaped them mixed with the skin of Hannibal’s cheek. “F-fuck!” was all he could utter, but he could feel Hannibal’s smile against him.

“So, which do you prefer, Will Graham? Teasing, or torture?” He pressed his lips against Will’s stubble, enjoying the mix of rough and tender against his sensitive skin, as he released the flushed boy’s neck and began to drag the glove down along his spine.

“I…” Will began, his brain deliriously flooded with chemical releases, the hot sensation of blood upon his back, and the frustrating closeness of his torturer pressed up against his face. But something in him was breaking. “...I think you can… do better than that.”

Hannibal’s hand withdrew almost immediately, and he found himself stepping backwards, feeling the loss of Will’s cheek against his own as he removed himself. He took the opportunity to survey his handiwork, the body before him almost slumping against the wall now with shaky breaths, and a series of magnificent scratches adorning his physique. Hot, red, swollen and decorated with patches of drying blood, he was simply beautiful to behold.

He slipped the vampire glove from his slender fingers and tossed it carelessly upon the desk, observing his victim with ravenous eyes, before stepping away from the challenger. 

“Come here, Will,” Hannibal called from across the room, taking Will by surprise. He slowly peeled his hands from the wall, straightening his back and feeling every wound throb with an enticing sting as he began to move his muscles. Unsure, he turned to see Hannibal sitting in the chair facing him. “Come and stand in front of me.” 

Each step felt like a lifetime as he followed orders once more, until finally he was standing before Hannibal. Although a pain-induced haze still hung like a curtain over his eyes, he was all too aware of how his body betrayed him. His nipples were as swollen as his wounds and just as crimson-hued, but worse still he was now conscious of the small damp stain upon the crotch of his trousers.

Hannibal’s eyes travelled up and down the man’s figure, and if he noticed these things he opted not to draw attention to them, instead settling his eyes upon Will’s own. “Perhaps I was too quick to praise you. It would appear, Will, that you are in fact a very, very naughty boy.”

Will’s face flooded with embarrassment. Whilst the praise stirred something almost animalistic in his loins, suddenly being infantilised like this instead brought about a sense of humiliation that was not to his tastes, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes suggested that his discomfort was wholly the point. 

“Remove your trousers,” Hannibal stated simply, his eyes drifting down to Will’s belt.

“I-... I’m not sure-...” Will hesitated, the growing demands of disrobing making him uncertain, even with the painful reminders pulsing on his back telling him that there was little point in turning back now. 

“I already told you,” Hannibal began, taking Will’s gaze once again, “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“...So you keep saying,” Will muttered, choosing to ignore the somewhat bemused expression that appeared on Hannibal’s face, averting his eyes to focus on unbuckling his belt. He stumbled out of his trousers, sliding off his well worn shoes in the process, until he was standing in only his socks and boxers, hands awkwardly placed in front of him to try and keep some semblance of modesty.

“Good,” Hannibal said firmly, knowing that providing only half the praise would leave Will feeling unsatisfied. “Now, bend over my knee.” 

“Sorry, what?” Will responded immediately, a soberness to his voice that surprised even himself. 

“Must I repeat myself?” Hannibal looked up at him curiously, but without a single doubt upon his face. He knew that his instructions would be met, one way or another.

“...Fine.” Will’s reply was delivered through gritted teeth, and he was unable to prevent the hiss escaping them as he felt the small wounds upon his back stretch to reopen as he leant over Hannibal’s seat, trying to fight off discomfiture as he stumbled to find himself laying stomach-first upon the man’s legs. The texture of his suit trousers against his skin made him painstakingly aware of how little clothing covered his own body. 

Another inevitable smirk formed upon Hannibal’s face as he placed a hand down upon the small of Will’s back, his fingertips brushing against a laceration. “Good boy.”

Will clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan, internally cursing himself for the impact those words had on him, for knowing that his body would react in a way he’d be unable to disguise.

Hannibal’s hand simply continued to stroke along Will’s back, taking delight in the way he had marked his new plaything, but of course this was not the activity that he had in mind. He began to toy with the waistband of Will’s boxers, which he studied intently. The material was old and slightly worn; he got the impression that Will likely didn’t buy new clothing often. How he wished he could take him shopping for a tailored suit. 

As Hannibal casually mused, Will was already in mental anguish, his attempts at internally willing away his growing arousal were not remotely successful, and he was already in the full throes of torture, or at least so he thought, until a muted slap echoed through the room. Taken aback, it took Will a moment to even realise what had happened, that Hannibal had smacked his palm down upon his buttock. 

“Did you just-... spank me?” he asked, muffled through the hand still upon his mouth. 

“You tell me, Will,” Hannibal responded curtly, before landing his hand down upon the other cheek, another slap penetrating the air of the office.

Will’s own air was stolen from his lungs in a gasp, his hand falling limply away from his face. Whilst not exactly painful, the sensation was a shock to the system. 

“I believe you wanted a change of pace, did you not?” Another smack, this time with just a degree of increased intensity, which caused a nervousness to begin gathering in Will’s chest. 

“We can do…” Another smack. “A change.” Smack. “Of.” Smack. “Pace.” Firmer still, his hands began to land slaps down upon Will’s barely covered buttocks with increasing speed and ferocity. 

With each impact, the sting would increase, and Will’s gasps became louder, but something caused Hannibal to pause. Again he found his hands playing with the elasticated band of Will’s undergarments. “Is it uncomfortable, Will?” 

“It-.. It’s fine…” Will replied breathlessly. 

“I mean, this.” Hannibal gently pulled at the clothing. “I think that we would both benefit from this being out of the way.” Using both his hands, he pulled the boxers down over Will’s groin, carefully tugging the material over the erection pressing into his lap, over his rear, leaving them to sit on Will’s thighs, careful to not make contact with his exposed rigidity in the process. “There, much better.” 

Will was speechless. A confused, almost upset sensation hit the back of his throat, a shame that, for a moment, threatened to consume him. He was so sorely embarrassed at his body’s betrayal, yet at the same time unable to ignore the unruly desire to feel more of what made him harder than he could ever remember being. For a second Will thought that he had felt a similarly longing firmness pressing up from Hannibal’s lap, but he soon had his ability to focus snatched away. 

This time the slap was almost deafening, bare skin upon bare skin. Hannibal would allow himself a moment to slide his palm along Will’s rear, savouring the softness, his fingertips dancing across plump flesh to feel patches of soft hair, before he would strike down and spank the fawn in his lap. 

What began as more of a surprise than a punishment, slowly began to reconstruct itself into an orderly, concise beating. Each smack was delivered with a precisely increased severity, always guaranteed to hit the exact spot where impact would be most effective. Will’s gasps metamorphosed in turn from shocked releases of air to cries of distress intermingled with a titillated longing.

“Is this more to your satisfaction, Will?” Hannibal asked in between thrashes, knowing full well that his treatment of the man’s tender flesh had rendered him unable to speak. He could only reply in moans and wails, though after a time his hips began to rise and fall to meet Hannibal’s hand, yearning for more. 

Will felt delirious. The agony brought with it an intense sense of relief, as though the pent-up stress buried within his ribcage was being churned out of him with every assault. His pelvis bucked wildly, his mind so foggy with hysteria that he had not even noticed when the punishment stopped. 

Hannibal kept a hand resting gently upon Will’s inflamed backside, his eyes dark with a lustful fervour, silently watching the mewling young man thrusting fiercely against his lap. His teeth sank down upon his bottom lip to stifle any sounds that threatened to emerge each time their mutual turgescence rubbed together. 

This hadn’t exactly been Hannibal’s intention when he lured his patient into a game of sadomasochism. The kind of gratification on his mind was of a far more violent persuasion, but he couldn’t bring himself to awaken Will from his desperation. His irrational frenzy stirred a longing in Hannibal that he hadn’t expected to address until much later along the line.

A hand lifted to grasp onto Hannibal’s trousers tightly, Will’s digits clinging onto the fabric as he moved with irregularity, a blaze of white filling his vision as the intensity of orgasm governed his thoughts, or lack thereof. Luscious spasms of wet, thick heat radiated from his loins, a faint numbness filling the void in the aftermath of grinding sensitive skin against an expensive suit. 

His body heaved as his lungs carelessly sought to replenish his body of oxygen, a heavy sense of exhaustion threatening to pull him under as he collapsed upon Hannibal’s lap, the Doctor’s hand making its way to warily stroke along Will’s back, but he didn’t remain dormant for long.

He fought against heavy eyelids, clutching for some semblance of sanity as reality began to dawn on him. Will shifted awkwardly, before stumbling from Hannibal’s seat, his legs threatening to give way. He felt around his thighs for his underwear, trying to pull his boxers up against his spent, naked form. 

“Will—” Hannibal began to speak, but was quickly interrupted. 

“No.” Will was stern, but his voice was weak, wrecked from the sordid cries that hailed from his frame. He didn’t want to look, yet for a moment he found himself staring at Dr Lecter’s body in the chair, staring at the mess that he had made, the shame. A lump formed in his throat, followed by a twinge of bile that threatened to ravage his raw larynx.

Wordlessly he began to gather at his clothes, wishing he could move faster, trying to make himself look presentable again as he pulled at materials and fastened buttons, none in even remotely the correct order. 

Hannibal rose from his chair and attempted to reach for the other man’s shoulder, but Will stumbled away, grabbing at his glasses on the desk. 

“Will, listen to me.” He spoke slowly but with authority, yet Will would not look in his direction. “There is a degree of aftercare that is very important here, and I cannot let you leave in this condition.” 

“You offered me the door and I am taking it, Dr Lecter.” Will’s words spilled from his mouth haphazardly as he forced his glasses onto his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” 

Before Hannibal could reach for him again, the man who was even more unkempt than when he first entered the room had left and closed the door behind him, leaving Hannibal standing with a hand outstretched. 

He closed his eyes, sucking air deep into his lungs, now quite uncomfortably aware of the wetness that stained his clothes, and the dull ache upon his palms. He simply stood, urging a calmness into his body with every breath. His fingers began to lift and dip, summoning melodies into his skull, but he could only muster a faint discordant cadence, before slamming his hands down onto his desk.