“Damn, baby. You knew exactly what you were after when you came in here tonight, didn’t you?” Big hands kneaded Riley’s asscheeks and pulled them apart, revealing the handle of the black plug nestled snugly between.
“Yeah.” Riley arched his back, the spread of his thighs hampered by his pulled-down jeans. Beneath his hands, the sticky, graffitied door of the bathroom stall reverberated with the heavy bass pounding through the club’s speakers. “Fuck me.”
“Oh, I’m going to, gorgeous. Don’t worry.”
The man towered over Riley, at least half a foot taller and impossibly broad across the shoulders, brawny with muscle from his giant biceps to his powerful thighs. His light brown skin and black hair suggested Latino, though Riley didn’t know his name. He’d lost it in the noise of the club as the man had ground up behind him on the dance floor, and who gave a fuck about the guy’s name when his body hit every single button Riley had?
Riley panted as the man played with his plug, rocking it back and forth and then teasing it in and out of his hole with shallow strokes. “Come on,” he said. He was worked up enough already; he wanted to get fucked.
Finally, the man pulled the plug out and set it aside. He rucked Riley’s shirt up, running his hands up and down Riley’s sides, lingering over the span of Riley's waist. “God, look at that. Tiny little hips and an ass I could serve a drink off of.”
Pressing his forehead against the door, Riley tilted his hips higher, the man’s admiration buzzing through his blood. When he was in this kind of mood, he couldn’t get enough of the attention, the way men stared and tried to put their hands on him. He hadn’t even had to show the bouncer his fake ID tonight; he'd been waved into the club without hesitation, the bouncer’s eyes traveling over his round ass and long runner’s legs.
A belt buckle clanked and a zipper purred as the man opened his own jeans. “You want me to fuck that sweet hole for you? Fill you up?”
“Please,” said Riley, his knees wobbling. He’d made the right decision coming into the city alone. He couldn’t get this from college guys, not the way he needed it. Though before things went any further, he should make sure… “Condom,” he said, craning his head to look over his shoulder, but the guy was already ripping a packet open.
“Right here." The man extracted the latex and rolled it over his cock – his mouthwatering, porn-worthy beast of a cock.
Riley’s jaw dropped.
“Big enough for you?” The man sounded amused, although Riley for sure wasn't looking at his face. He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft and gave it a couple of leisurely pumps.
Swallowing hard, Riley turned his head back to face the wall. He was dangerously turned on as it was, his own cock aching between his thighs. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself by shooting off the second the guy got inside him.
Riley closed his eyes in anticipation when the man’s large body crowded up behind him, but instead of aiming straight for the target, the man slapped his cock up against Riley’s hole with several wet, meaty thwacks. “You a little size queen, baby?” he asked. “Seem like one to me, coming in here with your hole all slick and plugged up, ready to be split open on a fat cock.”
It was perfect, the exact right note of humiliation to leave Riley dizzy and breathless. “Yeah. Want it, want you to put it in me, come on, do it – ”
The man chuckled, pleased, and steadied Riley’s hips with one hand while he guided his cock to Riley’s hole with the other. He pushed in slowly, just the head at first, but even that was enough to have Riley’s eyes rolling back.
“I know you want it all, sweetheart,” the man said, effortlessly holding Riley still when he tried to take more, “but you gotta let me go slow, okay? We gotta get you warmed up first so I can give you the good hard drilling you need.”
“Jesus.” All of the blood that wasn’t in Riley's cock rushed to his face, a hot flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.
Moving at a torturous pace, the man worked his way into Riley’s hole bit by bit, gripping Riley’s hips with both hands once he was halfway inside. By the time the guy bottomed out with a low groan, Riley was scrabbling at the stall door in desperation.
“Nice.” The man stayed where he was, buried to the root in Riley’s ass, moving his hips in minute circles that made Riley whimper. “Shit, that’s a tight fucking pussy.”
Riley’s entire body shuddered.
“You like that, huh? Thought you might.” Bending his head close to Riley’s ear, the man gave him a few tiny thrusts, his cock burning hot and hard as steel. “You’re just a slutty little pussyboy, aren’t you? Coming in here gagging to get fucked. You know what that hole is for.”
Riley moaned brokenly, squirming around on the guy's cock. “Fuck me,” he said, not caring how frantic he sounded. “Stop talking about it and just do it, fuck me.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” The man kissed Riley’s neck, pinned both of Riley’s hands to the door with his own, and snapped his hips, going from zero to sixty in the space of a second. Riley shrieked, his nervous system frying as he was overwhelmed by the sudden change in pace. The man didn’t hold back at all, just fucking went for it, holding Riley right where he wanted him and mounting his ass like a horny dog.
Their height difference meant that every powerful thrust lifted Riley right up onto the balls of his feet. His own cock bobbed uselessly against his stomach.
The door rattled on its hinges, banging against its metal lock, and another wave of arousal swept through Riley. Every other man coming in and out of the bathroom would know exactly what was going on in here. They’d all know there was a cockslut getting fucking nailed in this stall. They’d be able hear his gasps and loud cries, hear how much he wanted this, how much he was getting off on being roughed up and manhandled and stuffed full of this stranger’s massive, unrelenting cock.
“Back that ass up on me, baby.” The man released one of Riley’s hands to give him a hard smack. “Don’t make me do all the work here. I know you know how.”
Struggling to regain his coordination, Riley braced himself on the door and rocked his hips, pushing back into the thrusts. It only took a few moments for them to fall into a rhythm, and God, this was even better, made Riley feel even sluttier than before. The guy's cock plunged into him just right, rubbing up against his needy, sensitive flesh and sparking off his prostate just enough to excite him without making him come. He wished he had taken his jeans off all the way so he could spread his legs wider.
“That’s it, there you go.” The man slapped Riley's ass three more times, the last ending on a deliciously hard squeeze that dragged a whine from Riley’s throat. “This what you needed?”
Placing his hand back atop Riley’s, the man continued pounding into him, grunting with exertion. “Perfect,” he breathed. “Such a perfect fucking pussy, sweetheart.”
Riley made an embarrassing sobbing noise. His cock hurt, swollen and bouncing in time with the man’s thrusts, his balls sore and drawn up tight. He badly wanted to come, but at the same time, he didn’t want this pleasure to ever end.
Then the man changed his angle, hammering right into Riley’s prostate, and Riley’s desire tilted decisively in favor of orgasm. He cried out, nails clawing into the door, rutting back onto that cock as he chased the electric sensation. “I have to – I need to come. Please.”
“Yeah? You want me to jerk that pretty twink cock for you?”
“Please. Please, I need it, I’m so close, please touch me, please – ”
Riley’s babbling was cut short when the man’s hand closed around his erection, tugging it swiftly. He gasped for air, suspended right on the edge, and then looked down. The sight of that big hand stroking his cock made him lose it right there, bucking and writhing and moaning like a slut as his come sprayed all over the door.
The guy fucked and milked him through it, squeezing his cock until Riley was a weak, trembly mess. He pinned Riley to the door again, but this time, he plastered his whole body against Riley’s back, letting Riley take his considerable weight. His hips hunched faster than before, his cock spearing Riley’s hole in quick, short jabs.
“Tighten up that pussy for me,” the man said, his voice gone hoarse.
Riley did as he was told, clenching and releasing his ass around the guy's cock, shivering at the aftershocks that produced. The man got rougher the closer he got to his own climax, and the last few thrusts slammed Riley’s body up against the door as the man let out a long, strained groan and his hips slowed to a gradual stop.
The man stayed there for a minute, trapping Riley with his bulk, but Riley didn’t mind. Having that strong body holding him in place felt good. Safe. His muscles were warm and melty, his spine gone liquid, and he was perfectly content to remain where he was.
When the guy stepped back and pulled out, though, the emptiness put an unpleasant crack in Riley’s afterglow. He listened to the guy throwing away the condom and doing his pants back up.
“Can you – can you put the plug back in, please?” Riley asked.
A moment passed before the man responded. “Uh, sure,” he said, with a hint of surprise. He slid the plug into Riley’s hole – not teasing, as he had earlier, just settling it in place.
After the thorough reaming Riley gotten from that thick cock, the plug was too small to be comfortable anymore. Better than nothing, though.
“You need something bigger,” the man said.
“I’m fine.” Testing his legs, Riley cautiously pushed off the wall and stood up straight. He pulled his shirt down and his skinny jeans back up; they were tight enough to keep the plug in place until he got home.
The man put a hand on Riley’s elbow and turned Riley around, his gentleness a startling contrast to his behavior of minutes ago. He tilted Riley’s chin up so they were looking straight at each other, and… whoa. Riley hadn’t gotten the best look at the guy’s face earlier, intent as he’d been on getting his ass fucked in the poorly lit club, but the guy was really good-looking – like, crazy handsome, with gorgeous dark eyes and a chiseled jaw beginning to sport a five-o’clock shadow. Riley blinked.
“God, you’re beautiful,” said the man. “Look at that mouth.” He rubbed his thumb over Riley’s lower lip, and when Riley didn’t protest, he cupped Riley’s jaw and leaned in for a kiss.
Riley took it, opening his mouth for the man’s tongue and resting his hand on the man’s arm for balance. Despite having just come, their size difference caused a flutter of arousal low in his belly. He loved that he’d had to tilt his head back to meet the man’s eyes, that the man had to bend over like this to bring their mouths together. The firm swell of the man’s bicep beneath his palm, rock-solid and so large that Riley wouldn’t have been able to wrap both hands around it, made his breath catch in his throat. Even the way the man’s hand engulfed the side of his face excited him.
The man pressed one last kiss to his lips and pulled back. Riley swayed towards him without meaning to.
Frowning, the man peered into Riley’s eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Okay? Riley was great. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he’d started college a few weeks ago.
“Are you here alone?”
Riley nodded, leaning sideways against the wall for support. The guy looked past him, eyes widening a bit, and yanked a wad of toilet paper off the roll.
“Did you drive?” the man asked as he cleaned Riley’s come from the door.
“No. I took the T.”
The man tossed the paper into the toilet and flushed it. “I think maybe I should drive you home.”
“What?” Riley shook his head, clearing it a little. “No. It’s nice of you to offer, but you don’t have to do that.”
“Look, you’re not – do you know what subspace is?”
“Of course I do,” Riley said, irritated. He might be young, but he wasn’t some kind of amateur.
“Well, I don’t think it would be safe for you to take the T alone right now. I can drive you home; it’s not a problem.”
“No offense, dude, but I’m not getting in a car with some guy I just met. I don’t even know your name.”
“Oh, right,” the man said, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. He slapped both of his back pockets, found his wallet, and withdrew his driver’s license, which he passed to Riley. “Here. Text a picture of my license to one of your friends. Tell them that if they don’t hear from you within a certain amount of time, they should send that information to the police.”
Riley eyed the license, thinking of his own fake ID, but it was definitely the same guy in the picture. Andres Cardona. He was twenty-four, younger than Riley had assumed. Six-foot-three – Jesus, seven inches taller than Riley – organ donor, corrective lenses required. Must be wearing contacts.
Riley bit his lip. “I live in Cambridge, not Boston.”
“That’s fine. It’s only like a fifteen-minute drive from here.”
What the hell. Andres was right – it wouldn’t be safe for Riley to travel alone at night in a strange city, not in this headspace. He hadn’t expected that he would sink this deep. What were the odds that Andres carried a flawless fake ID on the off chance that he could coax a guy he’d already fucked into his car? Besides, it would be nice to go straight home, rather than have to walk all the way to the T and take two trains.
“Yeah, all right,” said Riley. “Thanks.”
He snapped a picture of the license and shot a quick text to his friend Melissa, who was both trustworthy enough to follow through on the favor and tactful enough not to pester him with questions until later. He waited for her to respond before he returned the license to Andres.
“My car is parked at a meter down the street.”
For the first time, Riley noticed the slight burr of Andres’ Boston accent. It wasn’t heavy, just a subtle dropping of his Rs, so my car is parked came out sounding like my cah is pahked. Riley hid his smile and turned to leave the stall.
“Hang on.” Andres caught Riley’s arm. His grip was light, something Riley could easily break free from. “You know my name – what’s yours?”
“Riley. Riley Blackpoole.”
A trace of surprise crossed Andres’ face, though he didn’t comment. Riley was used to the reaction. He may have gotten most of his looks from his Korean mother, but he’d gotten his surname from his father, and William Alexander Blackpoole III was just about the whitest guy in America.
Andres unlocked the latch on the stall door and swung it open, gesturing for Riley to precede him. There were a couple of other guys in the bathroom, both of whom gave Riley knowing leers as he and Andres passed. Riley couldn’t stop a blush, wondering how long they’d been there. Had it turned them on, listening to him get fucked? Would they jerk off thinking about it later? His spent cock twitched.
Resting his hand on the small of Riley’s back, Andres led him through the club and out onto the street. It was cold outside – midnight in September in Boston wasn’t exactly balmy – so Riley leaned into Andres a bit, letting the contact ground him.
They walked two blocks to Andres’ car, a sensible blue Honda Accord. Andres opened the passenger’s-side door for Riley before rounding the car to get in himself.
“So – Cambridge, huh?” Andres rummaged in the center console for a GPS unit. “What’s the address?”
“9 Harvard Yard,” said Riley.
Andres fumbled the GPS and dropped it on the floor.
They drove without speaking, a strain of soft indie rock playing over the sound system at low volume. Riley drifted away on the music and the movement of the car. He wasn’t as deep in subspace as he’d been in the past, but he appreciated the gentle comedown. By the time they pulled up behind Matthews Hall, he was half-asleep.
Andres put the car in park, and Riley unbuckled his seatbelt. As Riley reached for the car handle, though, Andres said, “Look, I knew there was no way you were twenty-one, but please tell me you’re at least eighteen.” His voice was tense, his face troubled.
“I am,” Riley said. “Eighteen.” Though it didn’t really matter; the age of consent in Massachusetts was sixteen.
Andres’ expression cleared. “Are you a freshman?”
“Where are you from originally?”
Andres nodded, as if coming to a conclusion, and leaned over Riley to open the glove compartment. “Before you leave, I want to give you something.”
Beyond Andres’ searching hand, Riley caught a bright glimpse of steel, the shape unmistakable. He jerked back in his seat with a frightened gasp. Stupid, stupid, stupid…
“Why do you have a gun?” he choked out.
“What?” Andres glanced at Riley, then winced and slammed the glove compartment shut. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t think...” Moving back to his own seat, he lifted his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “I’m a cop, okay? BPD. My badge is in the center console. You can look for yourself.”
Keeping a wary eye on Andres for any sudden movements, Riley lifted the lid on the console and felt around inside until his hand closed on smooth leather. He pulled it out and flipped the wallet-shaped thing open, revealing a metal badge tucked in one side and a BPD ID card in the other. BOSTON POLICE, the badge proudly proclaimed at the top, and along the bottom, POLICE OFFICER 3184.
“I usually carry it on me, but I don’t take it into the club,” Andres said. “I’m really sorry. I should have warned you that the gun was in there and told you why before I opened it. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Riley dropped the badge back into the console with nerveless fingers. “I didn’t drink anything in the club,” was all he could think to say. “I just went there to fuck.”
“You…” Andres’ eyebrows rose, his mouth falling open. “Riley, I don’t give a shit about whatever fake ID you have. I’m off-duty. If I were planning to bust you, I sure as hell wouldn’t have fucked you first.”
“Okay.” Riley closed the console, shaken, but Andres looked genuinely remorseful and his voice was sincere.
“That was stupid of me,” said Andres. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I just – I wasn’t expecting it.”
“There’s still something I’d like to give you, if you don’t mind me going back in the glove compartment.” Andres’ dark eyes were intent on Riley’s face. “I promise I won’t touch my gun. But if you’d feel safer just getting out of the car, that’s totally okay.”
“No.” Riley felt silly now, though his concern had been legitimate. “Do whatever you were going to do.”
Andres opened the glove compartment again, withdrew a rubber-banded stack of business cards, and worked one out from the pile before tossing it back into the compartment. He grabbed a pen from the detritus in the cupholder and scribbled on the back of the card, then handed it to Riley.
The card was simple white stock, with only a name and phone number printed in the center in plain black lettering. AUTUMN JONES.
“That’s my friend Autumn,” Andres said. “You should call her.”
“Uh, I’m not into girls. Like, at all.”
Andres laughed. “And she’s not into guys. She runs a private BDSM club – invitation only. Safe, sane, and consensual all the way. Way less risky than hooking up with a stranger in a club.”
Riley arched an eyebrow. “Says the guy who just hooked up with a stranger in a club?”
“Hey, I wasn’t looking to Dom tonight. I wouldn’t normally take things as far as we did without negotiating first. You must know it’s not a good idea to scene with a complete stranger.”
With a shrug, Riley tucked the card into his pocket and cast a longing glance towards the dorm. He was exhausted.
“Give Autumn a call, tell her I referred you,” Andres said. “I put my own number on the back, if you’re interested. Are you okay here, or do you want me to walk you to the door?”
“I’m good.” Riley popped the door and stepped onto the curb, then hesitated. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for the sex,” Andres said, grinning. And if Riley’s stomach flipped at the way the smile lit up Andres’ handsome face – well, Andres didn’t need to know that.
The suite was quiet, Riley’s room blissfully empty; his roommate was still out at a frat party. Riley felt a rush of relief at having the room to himself. Tim was a nice guy, but Riley was an only child used to having his own space, and dorm life had been a difficult adjustment.
He texted Melissa, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his plug before stashing it in the hiding spot he’d created in his tiny closet. Then he flopped down on his bed, turning the card Andres had given him over in his hand.
Should he call this Autumn Jones? He didn’t know anyone in the scene here. It would be nice to sub for an experienced Dom again instead of playing fluffy games with college guys, or trolling for men in clubs who looked like they’d be willing to throw him around a little…
No, he couldn’t call this random woman out of the blue. It was too weird. This entire night had been strange. The sex had been off-the-charts fantastic, though.
Flipping the card over, he studied Andres’ number on the back. He should at least text to thank Andres for making sure he got home safely. Andres had gone out of his way, and of his own volition. Anything less would be rude.
Riley opened a text and typed in Andres’ number without creating a new contact. Thanks again for taking me home, he typed, and pressed SEND.
Five minutes later, his phone chirped with Andres’ response.
No problem, sweetheart. Next time you want that greedy hole fucked hard, you let me know. ;-)
Riley took a shuddering breath. He’d never met a Dom quite like Andres before. Maybe he didn’t have to join a club to get what he needed.
His thumb hovered over the text for only a moment before he saved Andres’ number to his contacts.