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The fan meeting had wrapped up smoothly, the cheers of Italian fans still echoing in their ears. Now, with Christmas just around the corner, Rome was draped in magic—twinkling lights strung across narrow cobblestone streets, massive Christmas trees glowing in piazzas like the one at Piazza di Spagna, garlands of red and gold adorning ancient fountains, and the crisp winter air carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine from holiday markets. The Colosseum stood majestically under a violet dusk sky, illuminated like a golden relic, while Vatican City's St. Peter's Square buzzed with preparations for midnight mass. It was the kind of beauty that made even seasoned travelers stop and stare.
But after a full day of roaming—snapping photos at the Pantheon, tossing coins into the Trevi Fountain for luck, and weaving through crowded Christmas markets—their team was exhausted. Est most of all. His legs ached, his shoulders tense from carrying bags of souvenirs, and all he wanted was quiet.
William, though, had that familiar spark in his eyes—the shopping bug. The younger man was a notorious spender; give him a credit card and a row of boutiques, and he'd come back loaded with designer bags. "Come on, na," William had urged Est with that cheeky grin, tugging lightly at his sleeve. "Via Condotti is calling my name. Gucci, Prada, everything. It'll be fun."
P'Ko, P'Lek, and P'Jak were already game, laughing about needing new jackets for the cold Roman nights. Est just shook his head, forcing a tired smile. "I'm good, Will. Go have fun. I need rest."
William pouted for a second—adorable, really—but he didn't push. He knew Est's limits. "Okay, P'Est. Get some sleep, yeah? We'll be back before dinner." He leaned in close, voice dropping just for Est's ears. "Don't miss me too much."
Est rolled his eyes, but his heart did that stupid flip it always did around William. They all waved goodbye in the hotel lobby, the group heading out into the glittering evening streets. William glanced back once more, flashing that rockstar smile before disappearing through the revolving doors.
Now the room was silent.
Their shared suite on the top floor overlooked the twinkling lights of Rome—a king-sized bed dominating the space, plush white sheets still rumpled from their quick nap earlier. Heavy curtains half-drawn, letting in slivers of city glow. Only two golden bedside lamps cast a warm, dim light, shadows dancing on the ornate walls.
Est locked the door, kicked off his shoes properly this time, and sprawled face-up on the bed, arms spread wide. The ceiling stared back blankly. He sighed deeply.
"Ai'William..." he muttered under his breath, half-curse, half-affection. "Shopping more important than me, huh?"
He sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "I told you I'm not feeling good, and you still leave me alone here. For what? More clothes? Fuck you, William Jakrapatr Kaewpanpong."
The name came out sharper than intended. He screamed it into the empty room—raw, frustrated—but the thick walls swallowed the sound. No one heard. He kicked his slippers across the floor, grabbed his phone, and flopped back down, scrolling Twitter to distract himself.
Big mistake.
The timeline exploded with William. Fans had already posted clips from today's roaming—William laughing with P'Jak, William posing dramatically in front of a Christmas tree, William in that damn black leather jacket that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, looking every bit the hot younger rockstar he was.
Then he saw it: a video from a fan, tagged urgently. P'Jak had posted it on his IG story—William strutting down a Roman street, hands in pockets, wind tousling his hair, that effortless swagger. Caption: "Kid's on a mission 🛍️😂"
Est ground his teeth. "Ohooo, enjoying yourself without me, huh? Okay, okay. Fine."
He told himself he didn't care. Went back to Twitter. Still William. Everywhere.
"Fuck this app," he growled, closing it forcefully. Opened TikTok instead.
Scrolled mindlessly for a minute—until a fan edit hit his For You page.
William on stage, guitar slung low, fingers flying over strings during one of their concerts. The edit slowed down the best parts: sweat glistening on his neck, that intense stare into the crowd, hips moving just right with the beat. Thirst trap audio overlaid—deep bass, moaning samples.
Est's thumb hovered. He watched it again.
And again.
And again.
He lost count.
Clicked the account. A whole page dedicated to William edits. Every one hotter than the last.
One from Dusk and Dawn concert—the "Charm" performance. William drenched, white shirt clinging transparently, abs defined under stage lights, water dripping down his chest as he smirked at the camera.
Another from their recent fancon: William riding that bike on stage, leather pants tight, thighs flexing, looking dangerously in control.
Est's breathing grew heavier. The room felt warmer. His free hand drifted without thinking—first over his stomach, then lower, palming himself through his pants as the next edit played.
He set the phone propped against a pillow, volume low but the visuals loud. Moved both hands now—up his shirt, tracing his own abs, then higher, fingers brushing his nipples. He pinched one, gasping softly, imagining it was William's mouth.
"Fuck..." he whispered.
He licked his fingers, wet them, circled his nipples again—slow, teasing, the way William loved to do when he was in the mood to torment.
Heat pooled low in his belly, cock straining against fabric. The videos kept looping. William's smirk. William's body moving. William owning every frame.
Est yanked his t-shirt off in one frustrated motion, tossing it aside. His skin flushed, chest rising and falling fast. The golden lamplight painted his body in warm shadows—lean muscles, skin sensitive and begging for touch.
He was aching now. Fully hard, needy in a way that only William ever made him feel this desperately.
His hand slipped under his waistband, wrapping around his shaft—slow strokes at first, eyes glued to the screen where William looked like pure sex on stage.
"P'Est tired, huh?" he muttered bitterly to the empty room, mimicking William's earlier tone. "But you go shopping anyway... leave me here like this..."
The anger mixed with lust, making it sharper, hotter. He stroked faster, thumb swiping over the head, spreading pre-cum.
He needed more. So much more.
Est’s trousers joined the discarded t-shirt on the floor, kicked aside in frustration. The cool December air of the room kissed his bare thighs, raising goosebumps along his skin, but it did nothing to temper the heat raging inside him. He was down to just his black boxer briefs now, the fabric tented obscenely, a damp spot already forming where his cock leaked against it.
He dragged William’s pillow closer—the one the younger man had slept on last night—and buried his face into it for a second. Fuck. It still carried William’s scent: that mix of his cologne, faint sweat from the day, and something uniquely him. Clean, warm, intoxicating. Est inhaled deeply, a broken moan muffled against the fabric.
“William…” he whispered hoarsely, clutching the pillow tighter, pressing it between his chest and the mattress like he could pretend it was William’s body pinning him down.
The TikTok edit looped again—William on stage, hips rolling slow and deliberate, that cocky little smirk as water cascaded over his abs. Est’s eyes were half-lidded, glazed with lust, phone propped precariously on the duvet so he could watch while both hands roamed.
He licked two fingers messily, coating them until they dripped, then shoved his boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock and ass. The air hit his exposed hole; he shivered, spreading his legs wider on the huge bed.
The first touch of wet fingers to his rim made him hiss—sharp, needy. He circled the tight muscle slowly at first, teasing himself the way William always did when he wanted Est begging. Around and around, pressing lightly, until his hips started rocking back on their own, chasing more.
Another lick—this time three fingers shoved into his mouth, sucking greedily like it was William’s cock. When he pulled them out, strings of saliva connected his lips to his hand. He didn’t care how filthy it looked.
One finger pushed in without warning.
Est’s back arched off the bed, a choked “hah—” escaping his throat. So tight, so empty without William, but the burn felt good—felt like punishment and reward at once. He worked it deeper, crooking it, searching for that spot that made his vision spark.
Second finger joined quickly. He scissored them roughly, stretching himself open, thighs trembling. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet room, mixing with his ragged breathing and the low thrum of the edit’s music.
“Fuck.. Liam.. harder…” he muttered, imagining William’s deeper voice growling commands.
Third finger forced in—stretching him wide, the burn intense now, but he craved it. He fucked himself on his own hand, hips rolling, cock untouched and leaking steadily onto the sheets. William’s pillow was crushed against his chest, face buried in it again as he inhaled that maddening scent.
His half-lidded eyes stayed locked on the screen. William riding that bike on stage—thighs flexing, leather stretching tight over his crotch, looking like he owned the fucking world. The slow-motion clip zoomed in on that cocky smirk, the way sweat beaded on his collarbone, the raw power in every roll of his hips.
Est whimpered, the sound high and broken, spilling out of him without permission. His fingers drove deeper, faster, curling roughly to hit that spot that made his vision blur. The wet slide of his own saliva wasn’t enough anymore—he needed more stretch, more burn, more of something that felt like William.
He chased the edge hard, hips bucking off the mattress, cock leaking steadily onto his stomach. So close. So fucking close—
But he didn’t tip over.
Not yet.
Est’s thumb scrolled mindlessly, feverish, down the endless feed. Another video loaded—William in some backstage clip, shirt half-unbuttoned, laughing low and rough with that voice that always went straight to Est’s cock. The sound was off, but Est could hear it in his head anyway.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
With a shaky hand, he reached for his open suitcase on the floor beside the bed. Fingers fumbled past clothes until they closed around the familiar bottle of lube and the discreet black case. He always packed them on long trips—who knew when the itch would hit, when William’s teasing or absence would leave him wrecked like this. No one else knew. It was his dirty little secret.
He popped the lube open, squirting a thick, generous stream over the dildo—thick, veined, realistically heavy, the one he’d chosen because it was close enough to William’s size to make him whine. More lube went straight to his hole, cold and slick, fingers pushing it in deep, mixing with his saliva until he was dripping.
The bedside table was the perfect height. He stuck the suction base firmly against the polished wood, tested it with a tug—solid. One last finger fucked into himself, quick and rough, spreading the mess wider.
Then he straddled the table, knees on the soft rug, facing the phone propped against the headboard so the video kept playing. William’s smirk filled the screen.
Est lowered himself slowly, guiding the slick head to his entrance. The first press made him gasp—eyes rolling back instantly as the stretch burned so good. He sank down inch by inch, breathing ragged, thighs trembling, until his ass met the cool table surface and the entire length was buried inside him.
“Fuck… oh fuck…” he hissed, forehead dropping forward for a moment.
He gave himself a few seconds to adjust, clenching around the toy, feeling deliciously full. Then he started to move.
Up—slow—then down again, letting gravity do the work. The wet squelch of lube grew louder with every bounce, obscene and echoing in the quiet suite. His cock bobbed untouched, slapping against his stomach, leaving shiny streaks.
The video looped: William on stage, hips rolling, sweat-slick chest heaving. Est’s gaze locked on it, half-lidded and hazy.
“William… ah—” His voice cracked as he sped up, riding harder, thighs burning. One hand braced on the table, the other roamed his own body—squeezing his pecs, pinching a nipple until it throbbed red, then shoving two fingers into his mouth, sucking greedily, drooling around them like it was William’s cock.
Faster now. Up and down, slamming himself onto the dildo with shameless force. The table creaked faintly under the rhythm. Lube dripped down his thighs, pooled beneath him.
“William—fuck—William!” His moans spilled out uncontrolled, loud and desperate, the younger man’s name bouncing off the walls. “William… harder… please—”
He was completely lost in it—eyes unfocused, mouth open, sweat beading on his collarbones, riding the toy like his life depended on it. Every downward thrust punched a broken moan from his throat, William’s name a filthy prayer.
He never heard the soft click of the door.
William stepped in quietly, alone, earlier than expected—shopping cut short because he’d missed his P’Est too much to stay out. The sight hit him like a freight train: Est on his knees over the bedside table, completely bare, bouncing hard on a thick dildo, face flushed and wrecked, moaning William’s name over and over like he was already being fucked raw.
William froze for half a second, blood rushing south instantly. Then a slow, dark smirk spread across his face. He let the door shut with a deliberate click, dropped his single shopping bag to the floor, and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his leather jacket.
Est didn’t notice. Still lost, still riding, still chanting his name—“William… yes, like that—”
William’s voice finally cut through the haze, low and rough, laced with amusement and pure hunger.
“Calling my name so pretty, P’Est… but that toy’s doing all the work?”
Est’s entire body locked up mid-thrust, eyes snapping open wide. The dildo stayed buried deep inside him as he whipped his head around, cheeks burning crimson, mouth falling open in shock.
William pushed off the wall, stalking forward slowly, eyes raking over every inch of the filthy scene—lube-slick thighs, heaving chest, cock leaking desperately.
“Look at you,” William murmured, voice dropping deeper, that younger cockiness dripping from every word. “Couldn’t even wait for me. Riding a fake cock, screaming my name like a slut… and you’re still not full enough, are you?”
He stopped right behind Est, close enough that his clothed thigh brushed Est’s bare one. One hand came up, fingers threading possessively into Est’s sweaty hair, tugging his head back gently but firmly.
“Don’t stop on my account,” William whispered against his ear, breath hot. “Show me how bad you needed me. Ride it harder. Let me watch how pretty you fall apart.”
Est’s entire body went rigid the second William’s voice sliced through the haze. His hips stuttered, the dildo still buried deep inside him, and his face burned hotter than it ever had in his life. He tried to twist away, to hide, but the toy kept him pinned in place, thighs trembling, lube dripping down onto the table.
“W–William… I—” The words tumbled out in a mortified rush, “I didn’t… you weren’t supposed to— fuck, don’t look—”
But William didn’t move closer. He just stood there, a few steps away, that black leather jacket still on, arms loosely crossed, eyes dark and unreadable except for the unmistakable heat in them. A slow, wicked smile curled his lips.
“Embarrassed now?” William’s voice was low, teasing, but laced with steel. “You weren’t shy a minute ago. Screaming my name like that… riding that thing like you were trying to break it.”
Est’s breath hitched. He tried to lift himself off the dildo, but his legs felt like jelly, and the stretch made him whimper involuntarily.
William’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Est froze.
William pulled the desk chair out slowly, turned it to face the bed fully, and sat down like he was settling in for a show. Legs spread, elbows on his knees, he leaned forward just enough to make it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m not touching you tonight,” he said calmly, voice dripping with control. “Not one finger. Not even a kiss. You started this all by yourself—so you’re going to finish it. All by yourself.”
Est’s mouth opened, a protest dying on his tongue.
William tilted his head. “Ride it again. Properly. I want to see you fuck yourself until you come all over that pretty stomach. And you’re going to do it while looking at me—not the phone.”
Est’s heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Shame twisted hot and sharp in his gut, but underneath it—god—there was something else. Something that made his cock twitch harder against his belly, made his hole clench greedily around the toy still inside him.
William’s voice dropped even lower, soft and dangerous. “Be good for me. Show your lover how gorgeous you are when you fall apart. You know you want to.”
Est swallowed hard. His hands shook as they braced back on the table. Slowly—humiliatingly slowly—he lifted his hips again, letting the dildo drag almost all the way out before sinking back down with a wet, filthy sound.
William’s eyes never left him. Dark. Hungry. Proud.
“That’s it,” William murmured, the first thread of praise slipping out like silk. “Look at you. Taking it so deep. My perfect baby.. always so needy for me.”
Est’s breath stuttered. He moved again—up, down—finding a rhythm despite the embarrassment burning through him. His thighs shook, lube squelching louder with every bounce.
William leaned back slightly, one hand casually resting on his own thigh, the other loosely gripping the armrest. Completely dressed. Completely in control.
“Faster, P’Est,” he ordered softly. “I know you can take it harder than that. You were slamming yourself down like a desperate little thing before I walked in. Do it again.”
Est whimpered, but he obeyed.
He rose higher, dropped harder—over and over—the slap of his ass against the table echoing in the quiet room. His cock bounced with every thrust, untouched, leaking steadily onto his abs. He squeezed his own chest again, pinching his nipples roughly because he needed something, anything, to ground him.
William’s voice was pure honeyed filth. “God, you’re beautiful. Look how greedy your hole is—swallowing that whole thing like it’s nothing. But it’s not enough, is it? You need the real one. Need your nong to fuck you stupid.”
Est’s moans climbed higher, broken and shameless. “William—please—”
“No touching,” William reminded firmly, though his own breathing had roughened. “Just like this. Come for me. Show me how good you are. Come all over yourself while I watch.”
Est’s pace turned frantic—hips snapping, thighs burning, the dildo hitting that spot relentlessly. His head fell back for a moment before William’s sharp command snapped it forward again.
“Eyes on me.”
Est forced his gaze up, locking with William’s across the dim room. Those dark eyes—possessive, proud, turned on beyond belief—pushed him right to the edge.
“William—fuck—I’m—”
“Come, baby,” William said, voice low and commanding, laced with raw praise. “Come for your me. Let me see how pretty you are when you lose it.”
Est’s whole body seized. His back arched hard, mouth open in a silent cry before a wrecked moan tore out of him—William’s name again, loud and desperate. His cock pulsed untouched, thick ropes of cum streaking up his chest, his stomach, some even hitting his chin. His hole clenched rhythmically around the dildo, thighs shaking violently as he rode out every wave, hips still moving in tiny, helpless jerks.
William watched every second of it, lips parted, chest rising fast, but he never moved from the chair.
When Est finally slumped forward, panting, trembling, cum cooling on his skin and the dildo still deep inside him, William’s voice came soft and warm for the first time.
“Good boy,” he murmured, approval thick in every word. “So fucking perfect for me.”
William stayed seated for a long, torturous moment after Est came—watching the way his phi’s chest heaved, cum streaking that flushed skin in messy ropes, thighs still trembling around the dildo he hadn’t dared pull out yet. The room smelled like sex and lube and William’s own cologne lingering from the pillow. Est’s eyes were glassy, lips parted, utterly wrecked.
Only then did William move.
He rose slowly from the chair, deliberate steps across the plush carpet, leather jacket creaking faintly. His gaze never left Est—predatory, possessive, drinking in every shudder, every desperate little aftershock that made Est’s hole clench visibly around the toy.
When he reached the table, William didn’t speak at first. He just stood over Est, towering, letting the older man feel small and exposed under that intense stare.
Then one hand came up—firm, sure—and wrapped around the front of Est’s throat. Not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. Thumb pressing lightly against his racing pulse.
Est’s breath hitched, a soft whine escaping as William leaned in close.
William’s tongue dragged slow and hot up Est’s chin, collecting the stray streak of cum that had landed there. He licked it clean, deliberate, eyes locked on Est’s the whole time.
“You taste like heaven,” William murmured against his skin, voice rough and low, lips brushing the corner of Est’s mouth but never quite kissing. “Sweet and filthy all at once. So perfect, so mine"
Est’s entire body jerked at the wet warmth of William’s tongue—like a live wire sparked straight to his oversensitive nerves. A broken moan spilled out, hips twitching involuntarily, the dildo shifting inside him and making him gasp.
His hands flew up on instinct, landing hard against William’s chest—too much fabric, too many barriers. The leather jacket was in the way, the shirt underneath still buttoned and neat while Est was bare and ruined.
“William—” Est’s voice cracked, needy and hoarse. His fingers scrambled at the zipper of the jacket, yanking it down roughly, shoving the heavy leather off William’s shoulders. It hit the floor with a thud.
He didn’t stop there—hands greedy now, tugging at William’s shirt, pulling it up and off in frantic motions because he needed skin. Needed to feel William’s heat against his own, needed those strong arms around him after being denied touch for so long.
William let him. Let Est strip the jacket and shirt away, a faint smirk playing on his lips as the older man’s desperation showed in every shaky breath, every clumsy grab.
When William was finally bare from the waist up—broad shoulders, defined chest, that faint sheen of sweat from the warm room—Est’s palms flattened against him immediately, sliding over warm muscle, nails scraping lightly down his abs.
“Please,” Est whispered, forehead dropping to William’s collarbone, lips brushing skin. “Touch me now… please. I was good—I did what you said—”
William’s hand tightened just a fraction on his throat, tilting Est’s head back so their eyes met again. Dark, hungry, but softening with something possessive and fond.
“You were perfect,” William said quietly, thumb stroking along Est’s jaw. “So fucking good for me. Coming just from riding that toy while I watched… screaming my name like that.”
His other hand finally—finally—came up, tracing lightly down Est’s cum-slick chest, smearing the mess rather than cleaning it. “Now you get your reward.”
William’s grip shifted from Est’s throat to his waist in one fluid motion, strong hands sliding under his thighs and lifting him clean off the table like he weighed nothing. The dildo slipped out with a wet, obscene pop, leaving Est empty and clenching around nothing. A broken whine tore from his throat at the sudden loss, but it turned into a gasp as his legs instinctively wrapped tight around William’s narrow waist, ankles locking at the small of his back.
Est’s arms flew around William’s neck, fingers digging into the younger man’s hair, pulling him closer. Skin on skin finally—William’s bare chest hot against his own cum-slick one.
“Good fucking boy,” William growled against Est’s lips, voice rough with want. “Look at you—still dripping for me, still so greedy even after coming like a desperate little slut on that toy.”
The praise hit Est like a spark straight to his spent cock, making it twitch between their bodies. William didn’t give him time to respond—just crashed their mouths together in a messy, filthy kiss. Tongues sliding, teeth clacking, saliva mixing as William devoured him. No gentleness, just raw hunger—sucking on Est’s bottom lip, biting just hard enough to sting, licking into his mouth like he owned it.
William walked them backward, Est’s back hitting the cool glass door of the balcony with a thud that rattled the frame. Outside, the glittering Christmas lights of Rome twinkled far below, but the tinted glass and heavy curtains kept them hidden. Still, the thought of being pressed against it—exposed in theory—made Est’s pulse race harder.
William’s hands kneaded Est’s ass roughly, fingers digging into the flesh, spreading him open as he held him up effortlessly. “This ass,” he rasped between kisses, voice dark and filthy. “Driving me insane all day. Knowing it was waiting for me—tight and wet and fucking perfect.”
He broke the kiss only to attack Est’s neck—hot, open-mouthed kisses, tongue dragging over sensitive skin, teeth scraping but never biting down hard enough to bruise. They had schedules tomorrow; no marks allowed. But William made up for it with sheer intensity, sucking just below Est’s jaw until the skin throbbed red without blooming purple.
Est’s head fell back against the glass with a soft thump, moans spilling freely. "William—ah—”
William moved lower, mouth trailing fire down his collarbone, then latching onto one nipple without warning. He took the bud between his teeth, tugging sharply, flicking his tongue over the tip while his free hand pinched and rolled the other.
Est cried out, back arching, trying to push closer even as the dual assault overwhelmed him. William was merciless—teeth grazing, tongue soothing, then biting again. Switching sides, giving the same brutal attention until both nipples were swollen, cherry-red, and aching.
“These pretty little things,” William muttered against wet skin, voice vibrating through Est’s chest. “Get so hard for me. Look how fucking sensitive you are—whimpering like a needy whore just from this.”
Est was a complete mess—legs trembling around William’s waist, cock trapped between their stomachs and leaking again already, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from overstimulation. His fingers tugged harder at William’s hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more even as he sobbed out broken pleas.
“William—please—too much, I—”
William pulled back just enough to look at him—lips swollen, eyes blown black with lust. “Too much? You can take it. You’re taking everything I give you tonight. My perfect, filthy slut—so fucking gorgeous when you fall apart for me.”
He rolled one abused nipple between his fingers again, hard, drawing another wrecked moan from Est’s throat.
“Tell me what you want,” William demanded, voice low and dangerous against Est’s ear. “Beg for it like the good boy you are.”
Est’s back was cold against the glass, the distant glow of Rome’s Christmas lights bleeding through the tint behind him, but every other inch of his body burned where William touched him. His legs stayed locked around the younger man’s waist, heels digging into William’s lower back, pulling him impossibly closer.
Est’s voice cracked, raw from moaning, tears clinging to his lashes. “Please… Need you inside me—need your cock, William, please—”
William pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes black with lust, lips curled in that filthy, proud smirk. “Begging already? So fucking desperate for my dick after coming like a whore on that toy.” His hands squeezed Est’s ass harder, nails biting into the flesh, spreading him open crudely. “You want me to split you open against this window? Let the whole city hear how loud my pretty baby screams when he gets fucked raw?”
Est sobbed, nodding frantically, hips grinding down against William’s clothed bulge. “Yes—yes, please—I’m yours—fuck me hard, make me take it—”
William growled low in his throat, approval and hunger thick in the sound. “That’s right. My greedy little slut. Always so tight and perfect for me.”
He didn’t bother moving them to the bed. One hand yanked his belt open roughly, zipper down, cock springing free—thick, flushed, already leaking. No prep, no patience; Est was still slick and open from the dildo and lube, hole twitching visibly in anticipation.
William lined up and thrust in with one brutal snap of his hips.
Est’s cry echoed sharp against the glass—back arching hard, mouth open in a silent scream as William buried himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The stretch burned, overwhelming, perfect.
“Fuck—yes—William—” Est choked out, nails raking down William’s back.
William didn’t give him time to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a punishing rhythm immediately—hard, deep, relentless. The glass door rattled in its frame with every thrust, Est’s body jolted upward with the force.
“Look at you taking it,” William snarled against his ear, voice rough and filthy. “So fucking perfect—hole sucking me in like it was made for this cock. My gorgeous, letting me ruin him against a window like a desperate fucktoy.”
Est could only moan—high, broken, nonstop—legs tightening around William’s waist, arms clinging to his shoulders as he was pounded mercilessly. His oversensitive cock was trapped between their stomachs, dragging against William’s abs with every thrust, already leaking again.
William shifted his grip, hoisting Est higher, changing the angle so every stroke nailed his prostate dead-on. Est’s eyes rolled back, a wail tearing from his throat.
“There it is,” William praised darkly, teeth grazing Est’s earlobe. “Scream for me. Let me hear how good my cock feels wrecking that pretty hole. You’re clenching so tight—gonna milk me dry, aren’t you? My perfect, filthy slut.”
He spun them suddenly—still buried deep—and slammed Est face-first against the glass, chest pressed to the cool surface, ass out. One hand fisted in Est’s hair, yanking his head back, the other pinning his hip as William started fucking him even harder from behind.
The new angle was brutal—deeper, rougher, William’s hips slapping loudly against Est’s ass. Est’s cheek smeared against the glass, breath fogging it, hands scrabbling for purchase as he was railed without mercy.
“William—too deep—fuck—gonna break me—” Est sobbed, but his body pushed back greedily for more.
“You can take it,” William growled, thrusting harder, pace turning savage. “You were born to take this cock. Look at you—ass bouncing so pretty, hole swallowing me whole. My good boy—my perfect fucking whore—coming undone just from getting pounded raw.”
Est’s second orgasm hit him like a freight train—no touch, just the relentless assault on his prostate and William’s filthy praise in his ear. He came with a shattered cry, cock spurting weakly between his stomach and the glass, body shaking violently as his hole clamped down rhythmically around William.
William groaned, hips stuttering. “Fuck—yes, milk me—just like that—”
A few more brutal thrusts and William followed, burying himself deep and spilling hot inside Est with a low, possessive growl. “All mine,” he rasped, grinding slow and deep through his release. “Every fucking inch of you.”
They stayed like that for a long moment—William’s chest heaving against Est’s back, both panting, sweat-slick and trembling. William’s arms finally wrapped around Est’s waist, holding him up as his legs gave out.
“Good boy,” William murmured softly now, pressing gentle kisses to Est’s shoulder despite the roughness moments ago. “So fucking perfect for me”
William didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried deep, grinding slow and lazy through the aftershocks, letting Est feel every pulse of his release inside him. Est’s legs had gone completely limp, held up only by William’s arms and the glass behind him. Cum leaked down his thighs, mixing with lube and sweat, dripping onto the carpet in thick drops.
After a long minute of heavy breathing and soft kisses pressed to Est’s shoulder, William finally eased out. The wet slide made them both groan—Est at the emptiness, William at the sight of his cum immediately starting to seep from that stretched, flushed hole.
“Look at that,” William rasped, voice hoarse and filthy. He spread Est’s cheeks with both thumbs, watching greedily as more leaked out. “My cum dripping from your pretty little hole. So fucking wrecked, phi. All open and greedy, begging to be filled again.”
Est whimpered, forehead pressed to the cool glass, body trembling. " please… more…”
William chuckled darkly. “Insatiable slut. You just came twice and you’re already desperate for another round.”
He didn’t make Est wait long.
Strong hands gripped his hips and lowered him carefully until Est’s knees hit the plush carpet. William guided him forward—down, down—until Est was on all fours right there in front of the balcony door, ass high in the air, back arched, face turned to the side against the floor. The city lights glittered beyond the glass like a million stars, Rome’s Christmas glow painting the room in soft golds and reds.
Est’s hole was on full display—pink, swollen, glistening with lube and William’s cum, clenching and unclenching visibly in the cool air. Completely ruined and utterly obscene.
William knelt behind him, still half-dressed—pants shoved down just enough, shirt long gone. He ran one possessive hand down Est’s spine, pressing between his shoulder blades to force his chest lower, ass higher.
“Stay just like that,” he ordered, voice rough with renewed hunger. “Show me that sloppy hole. Show me how bad you need to be bred again.”
Est obeyed instantly, pushing his hips back with a desperate whine, spreading his knees wider. The position left him utterly exposed, vulnerable, every twitch of his open hole visible.
William didn’t tease this time. He lined up and slammed back in with one vicious thrust—balls-deep in a single stroke.
Est screamed.
The sound was raw, unrestrained, echoing off the high ceilings. No control left—his voice cracked on William’s name as the younger man set an absolutely brutal pace from the start. Hard, punishing snaps of his hips, skin slapping skin loud and wet, the carpet burning Est’s knees with every forward jolt.
“Take it—fuck—take every inch,” William growled, one hand fisting in Est’s hair to yank his head back, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. “Scream louder. Let the whole fucking city hear how good your nong destroys this perfect cunt.”
Est’s screams came nonstop now—high, broken, filthy. “William—too much—ah—fuck—harder—please—”
William obliged. He folded himself over Est’s back, chest to spine, free hand snaking around to pinch and twist a swollen nipple while he pounded mercilessly. The angle was deeper this way, every thrust nailing Est’s prostate without mercy.
“You love this, don’t you?” William snarled against his ear. “Love getting fucked like a cheap whore on the floor. Your manpussy’s sucking me in so tight—milking my cock like it’s starving. My filthy, perfect phi—made to be bred over and over.”
Outside, Rome shone in all its Christmas glory—lights twinkling along the ancient streets, the distant dome of St. Peter’s glowing gold. The city of love, eternal and romantic.
Inside, there was only raw, brutal lust—William claiming Est completely, again and again, sweat dripping down both their bodies, the air thick with the scent of sex and the wet sounds of William ruining him.
Est’s arms gave out eventually; he collapsed forward onto his elbows, face pressed to the carpet, ass still held high by William’s iron grip. Tears streaked his cheeks, drool pooling beneath his open mouth as he screamed himself hoarse.
William didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked harder—hips snapping with punishing force, chasing his second release deep inside that greedy, sloppy hole.
“Come again for me,” he demanded, voice cracking with effort. “Come on my cock while I breed you. Show me how much you love being my perfect little cumslut.”
Est shattered a third time with a sob that sounded like William’s name torn in half—body convulsing, hole clamping down rhythmically, cock spurting weakly onto the carpet beneath him.
William followed seconds later, slamming in one last time and spilling deep with a guttural groan. “Mine—fuck—all mine—”
They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, William’s weight blanketing Est protectively as they both panted, trembling, utterly spent. Outside, the city kept shining. Inside, their hearts thundered in perfect sync.
Est went completely boneless after that final, shattering round—body limp and heavy, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps against the carpet. His arms had given out long ago; he lay there on his side now, curled slightly, cum and sweat cooling on his skin, hole still twitching with aftershocks. He couldn’t have moved if he tried.
William collapsed beside him, chest heaving, one arm draped possessively over Est’s waist. They stayed like that on the floor for several quiet minutes, the distant hum of Rome’s night traffic and the soft glow of Christmas lights filtering through the balcony door the only sounds. William’s fingers traced lazy circles on Est’s hip, grounding him, bringing him slowly back down.
Eventually, William shifted. Strong arms scooped Est up effortlessly, rearranging them so Est’s head rested on William’s bare chest, ear pressed to the steady thump of his heart. William pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Est’s damp forehead.
“I love you so much, P’Est,” he whispered, voice low and rough from all the growling and praising, but now tender. “More than anything. You’re everything to me.”
Est’s body felt numb, deliciously used, every muscle turned to liquid. He couldn’t even lift his arms properly—just managed a weak tap against William’s chest with his fist, more playful than angry.
“I was so mad at you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and small. “You left me here all alone… I needed you. Needed you so bad, and you went shopping. Stupid shopping.”
A pause, then quieter, almost petulant: “I hate you.”
William’s chest rumbled with a soft laugh, warm and fond. He tightened his hold, kissing the top of Est’s hair, breathing in the scent of sweat and shampoo and them.
“Okay,” he murmured, lips brushing Est’s temple. “I love you more.”
Est huffed, but there was no real heat in it—just exhaustion and affection. His eyes fluttered closed, a tiny smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
After a little longer, William carefully gathered Est into his arms again and carried him to the bathroom. He cleaned them both gently—warm washcloth wiping away the mess of lube and cum, careful around sensitive spots that made Est hiss softly. Then into the shower: steaming water cascading over them, William holding Est up under the spray, washing his hair with slow, soothing fingers, pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and neck.
Back in the bedroom, William towel-dried Est’s hair with the same gentle care, rubbing the strands until they were soft and damp, then carried him to the bed.
He’d brought dinner back from one of the little trattorias near Via Condotti—simple but perfect: creamy carbonara and tiramisu, still warm in insulated bags. William sat propped against the headboard, Est cradled between his legs, and fed him bite by bite. Est was too tired to hold the fork himself, so he just opened his mouth obediently, letting William take care of him, humming contentedly at the rich flavors.
When the containers were empty, William set them aside, pulled the thick duvet over them both, and drew Est close. Legs tangled, arms wrapped tight, Est’s head tucked under William’s chin, William’s hand splayed possessively over Est’s lower back.
Outside, Rome kept sparkling—Christmas lights twinkling like a promise.
Inside, they fell asleep just like that: heartbeats synced, breaths slow and even, two bodies intertwined like they were always meant to be.