Work Text:
My name is Kiba Inuzuka, I am a renowned veterinarian, an expert in the treatment of dogs, and I am in my apartment nervous like a schoolboy waiting for the result of the final exam. I sit and scroll the messages we'd swapped over the past few days, as much to reassure myself that this was actually happening as anything else, that I was about to live out a fantasy I'd had for as long as I'd been jerking off. I scroll past the messages confirming the day and time, half an hour from now, and where I'd sent him my address, back to the pics he'd sent me of himself.
Half unthinking I start palming my cock through my sweats, already semi, as I look at Naruto's smooth, built torso, his school's orange wrestling singlet stripped to the waist. He's turned side on to the the camera, as if the person who took it had caught him passing, and my eyes follow the curving lines of his arms to his ass, firm and round, a line of darker orange on the nylon where his sweat pooled in the crease.
I breathe out, almost cursing as my dick throbs and I stare at that beautiful jock ass, wishing I could breathe it in, knowing that soon I would.
I'd always been a sucker for ass, often literally. Nothing can bypass my sense of reason, my sense of self respect faster than a cocky jock guy with the kind of ass jeans were made for. It's walking cliché territory, I know, thirty year old homo still hard for the jocks that wouldn't look at him at school.
I sometimes think being gay is a form of perpetual adolescence, and I for one never stopped grabbing shy glances in the locker room, in the showers, fuck it, I do it on the train if some nineteen year old, six foot tall stack of beef and testosterone and superior attitude gets on. No seats? Why not use my face? That's what I'm thinking while put my bag over my lap to hide my semi.
My phone buzzes and I almost drop it in my haste to open the message. Naruto. "Running late. B there in 15.". At least I know he's coming, that's a relief. Its always a risk that plays on your mind when you arrange to meet someone you connected with online, especially one you'd already sent money to. I have no reason to doubt that Naruto is who he says he is, that he's the wrestler from the local college in the pics he sent me.
I'd even put them through a reverse image search, but all I got was his Instagram profile. Still, he might just take the 50 I'd sent up front of the 100 we'd agreed on and consider it easy cash from a dumb, horny gay guy. It's the sort of thing I might have done at that age.
I'd posted the ad onon one of those apps where people posted about spontaneous encounters. I hadn't expected much, kind of an outside bet I'd throw a few minutes at. I kept it simple, and as unambiguous as I could without breaking the solicitation rules.
Yeah, I'd become that kind of guy, willing to pay for kinky sex with someone who probably wouldn't do it with me for free. Not that I struggle to get dates, even at 32 I consider myself a reasonable catch, but what I want today isn't wine and roses and making out during the movie.
I check the time again, again. OK, ten more minutes. I glance around the apartment, not really looking for anything, just in that way you do when you feel like you should be doing something. It's crazy, I haven't been this nervous about meeting a guy since I was, what, his age?
I suppose it's because, unlike the men I have had first dates with in the past, he already knows some of my secrets, he has already seen past whatever facade I've made for myself with my expensive haircut and neat apartment. I kept the ad simple, the way the best horny, stupid ideas are.
"M. 32. Professional. Discrete. Generous. Seeking younger M (18-25), jock type, for mutually beneficial setup. Dom +++. Let me worship your ass."
I'd posted it late on a Friday night after a few too many drinks with my friends from veterinary school in the sports bar on the corner of the building we work in. There had been a rugby match on the bar's big TVs. I'd never seen the sport before but those big guys in their little shorts manhandling each other did nothing to help my perpetually horny mood.
What really got my attention, though, was this college kid that was in with some of his buddies to watch the game. He was sat kinda opposite, on some couches, and had his feet up on the table so his baggy shorts slid down his thighs, showing that thick jock ass in his patterned jockey shorts.
So I had Fudou talking in my ear about what a bitch her boss is (she is), and all I could think about was crawling across the sticky floor and putting my head up the leg of that kid's shorts and sniffing his ass like a dog.
So, I was feeling pretty fucking depraved when I hit send on the ad and mostly forgot about it. I got a few replies from transparent scammers, which I ignored, but then a few weeks later a new one had appeared in my inbox.
The subject line was simple and to the point, which I liked. "Ass worship". I opened it and was glad not to see any links to sketchy cam sites, instead was a short message and a couple of .jpg files.
"Hey man. Still looking? 19, m, wrestler. Could always use spare cash. What exactly you looking for?"
One pic was a faceless gym mirror selfie of a built looking young guy in the standard shorts and tank top. He definitely looked like a wrestler, strong legs, wide, round shoulders.
The second was a close up of his ass in some pale grey, skin tight boxers, the waistband of his sweats pulled down below like he did it just to snap the pic. If he was real I was already in love, with his ass at least, and the moment I saw that pic my dick started doing press ups in my pants.
We chatted a few times. He wanted to know what I was into, what I expected. I guess he was, like me, testing that I was for real so I sent him pics of myself too. He said I didn't look like the type that would pay for shit like this.
"Thanks, I guess. I just wanna do it right if I'm gonna do it."
"Yeah, I get that."
They say that trying to explain why a joke is funny is, at best, pointless and, at worst, ruins the joke. I sometimes think that about what turns you on, so if you asked me why the prospect of Naruto, this sexy, chill young wrestler dude, coming to my apartment to let me worship his backside, why making out with his ass like it's my prom date excites me so much I'm not sure I could tell you.
Maybe there's some formative experience with a bully in high-school behind it, but nothing specific comes to mind. I got my fair share of that kind of thing, but after I grew about six inches one summer even that mostly stopped. It was around that time I started looking at those bullies differently too, and when I saw them cornering some happless victim I would always get a strange, conflicted feeling.
In my teenage jerk off fantasies I'd see one of them, maybe Kankuro, the son of the mayor of Suna, smirking down at me, lowering his big, round ass onto me, his black pants stretched so I could see the lines of his underwear. "Sniff, homo." Fuck, I'd cum and that post nut guilt had a special flavor.
I'd told Naruto a little about this during our "get to know you" chats, when he'd asked what I get out of it.
"So, like, it's not just about kissing my ass, you wanna be my bitch?"
"Yeah. Is that too much?"
Five minutes. I go to the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge, some imported IPA. Not something I'd drink. I open it and grab a glass, taking them into the living room and putting them onto the authentic Swedish table next to the couch. For such a simple, domestic act it was the hottest thing I had done in weeks.
It was one of the instructions he had given me ahead of his arrival today. I had been afraid that my admission would scare him off, but the opposite seemed to happen and Naruto's tone switched so easily it was like he had been waiting for the moment. Maybe he'd read more in my ad than I'd consciously put there.
"Thought so. A lot of homos wanna serve me. You're not the first."
So, he wants a beer ready. He wants me kneeling when he arrives. I do it, kneeling by the door, the intercom in reach. 3 minutes....2.....I shift on my knees, butterflies putting on a circus in my stomach. The intercom buzzes and sounds too fucking loud.
"Yo Kiba, buzz me up"
Seconds pass. More seconds pass. Footsteps, heavy, a long stride. The handle rattles and turns. I look up.
He's real. Man, is he real. Six foot tall and broad chested, he's a collosus as he looks down at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, his blue eyes taking in the man kneeling on the floor in front of him. He looks pleased, and maybe a little surprised that I'm real too.
"Good dog. Greeting your master." His tone is gently mocking. His voice deeper than his boyish looks would lead you to expect. I let out a small, silent laugh and smile.
"I'm glad you could make it, master." The word feels both odd and exciting to say. He looks around the apartment's large, open living area, nodding his head in appreciation.
"Nice place." He walks forwards. I follow behind on my hands and knees. Of course my eyes gravitate to his ass as it moves in those thin basketball shorts. I can smell him already, his stink, his musk, whatever you want to call it but you all know what I mean, that mix of new sweat over old, a hint of the bodyspray he used yesterday, and that unmistakable smell of maleness, of arousal.
"Thanks." I feel stupid replying like that while I'm on my hands and knees, but what I said about asses like Naruto's short circuiting my brain wasn't hyperbole. I think he can tell because he looks back, that smirk wider.
"Man, you're hungry ain't ya?" He playfully pats his ass. "Don't worry Kiba, we'll get to that. Now, where's my beer?"
He sits on my nice leather couch, the first expensive thing I bought for my apartment after getting my first decent job. He sits on it like he owns it, one leg draped over the arm of the couch and the other resting on the table. I'm kneeling in the space between them, looking up at him as he sips his beer from the bottle and regards me with playful eyes.
I know he's dragging the moment out on purpose, making me wait. I feel like a dog who has been shown a treat and now has to sit politely. That's what I am really, and that realisation is not a bad one. I wouldn't mind that.
"You're a lucky boy, you know that?" That surly, faintly mocking voice makes my nuts tighten in my boxers. "I skipped the shower this morning AND after the gym." He makes a show of putting his arms behind his head, baring his pits, the hair darker than his blond head.
He turns his face towards one and takes a sniff, screwing up his nose. "Fuck me, maybe lucky isn't the right word."
He's fucking with me now and we both know it, and damn if it doesnt make me rock hard. I admit that the thought of paying for this had plucked a string in me I didnt know I had. Like, wanting this humiliating thing so bad you pay for it is hot in a way I wouldn't have expected.
But this was taking that to a new level, this withholding of what I paid for, still making me beg for it, like he's doing me a favor for even letting me pay to beg.
"Please, Naruto." It may as well have been a whimper.
"Please, what?" A shit eating grin, pink wet lips and white teeth.
"Can I...." He's gonna make me say it. The little shit is gonna make me say it.
"Speak up, doggy. What do you want?"
"Please....please let me worship your perfect ass."
His grin doesn"t flicker, but the amusement in his eyes deepens, and takes on a hint of something darker.
"Really? I figured you wouldn't wanna do it once you got a whiff of it. Figured no one would be that fuckin desperate. Are you that desperate, doggy?"
Fuck. How is he this good? What else am I gonna say?
"Please, Naruto. I am that desperate."
An actual laugh now. Not performative. Just a snort and a chuckle.
"Well, ok. If you're sure." He shuffles forward on the couch a little, shifting his posture so that I can get at his ass and taint. "Go nuts, pervert."
I don't even care at this point. I don't care how pathetic I must look as I nearly dive forward. Fuck, looking pathetic is half the fun. When my nose finally presses into the soft, shiny nylon of his shorts and I inhale the body warm air trapped inside its like stepping into another world.
I close my eyes and follow my nose deeper, finding the place where his taint meets the crease of his ass. He smells better than I imagined. I've always been into guy smells but nothing has rocked my world like this is doing right now. He squirms against my face. I feel a foot placed casually on my shoulder.
"Fuck...you weren't lying when you said you like ass, were you? You should see your face right now."
I don't try to answer. Actions speak louder and all that. I press my nose in deeper. I hear him moan low and I feel his taint pulse against my forehead. Damn, when he couldn't get any more perfect he gets off on it.
Not that he's in a hurry, and he lets me stay like that as he sips the beer and idly gropes himself through his shorts. Now and then he puts down the beer and places his hand on my head, pushing.
"That's right, dog. Get used to your owner's smell." And I am. Nearly snorting like an animal as I breathe in his ripe jock ass. I'm throbbing in my boxers but I don't dare touch it.
I'd like to say that it's out of some kind of submissive respect, and if I was a well trained sub it might be, but really it's because I'm pretty sure I'd squirt in single digit seconds if I touched it now.
I don't know how long it is before his fingers lace my hair and he pulls my head up, not roughly but firmly. He looks down at me. He's smiling still, but now it's got that twist of dominance that comes when a dude like him starts getting hot.
"Worth it?" He knows the answer but wants to hear it.
"Fuck yeah."
"Where's the bedroom?"
This time I go ahead and it's him that's looking at my ass as I crawl along the hall. I feel a tap from the toe of his sneaker.
"Faster."
I go faster. Damn, the way he's toying with me is so fucking hot, hot in a way I didn't expect. We get to my room. He tells me to get on the bed, to lie on my back. Seconds later I'm there, lying back, arms behind my head. My cock is tenting my sweats, visibly bobbing. He smirks at it.
"Bet that's the hardest you've been in years."
"Yeah." I try a laugh. "It honestly is." He likes that answer. He stands at the foot of the bed and turns his ass towards me before hitching his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and starting to slowly pull them down. He's wearing the same pale grey boxers from the first pic he sent me and I'm not sure if it was a deliberate choice, but the sight illicits a moan from me.
"Yeah, this is what you live for, isn't it, dog?" The shorts drop away. He climbs onto the bed, his weight shaking it. "Being a bitch for a guy like me."
"Fuck....Naruto." I breathe out. "Yeah..." He twists and straddles my torso, shuffling back so that his ass is inches from my face. I can feel his hardening cock pressing against my chest through the warm fabric of his boxers.
"What, dog? Remember what I said about speaking properly. Tell me what you are."
God, my senses are full of him now. I feel overwhelmed, even scared, but in a way that is thrilling.
"I'm your bitch." He shifts back further, letting his butt cheek graze the tip of my nose. A reward.
"Yeah you are. My little ass worshiping fag". Another cliché, the gay that gets off on being called a fag. Put it in the comments. Right now I am exactly that, his ass worshipping fag, his dog, his whatever the fuck he says I am. He scoots those last few inches and my nose is in his crease again.
Figuring that my dignity has already gone the way of the dinosaurs I don't hold back and start sniffing. He grinds back, pushing my nose towards where his hole is under his boxers, the hot stink of teenage jock musk filling my head like a freshman's first joint. "You gonna clean my sweaty ass for me, fag?"
"Yes sir!" My response is pretty much immediate, my voice muffled by his ass, and I wonder for a moment if the vibration tickles his balls. I don't have much time to think about it because he slowly starts peeling the back of those boxers down. Yeah, of course, this part is a tease too. That's half this kid's act, and it fucking works.
He's got a faint tan line, and his pale ass is dusted with blond hairs, thicker between the cheeks. I brush them with my nose, inhaling his bare skin for the first time. Finally he pulls the waistband of his boxers all the way past his ass and I get a moment just to look at it before he tells me to get to work.
Work. Fuck, if this was my job I would happily die doing it. I start lapping like the hungry dog he said I am and soon my spit and his sweat are mixed into a varnish that coats my face and his ass. In a fucked up way it's like we're joined as we compete to see who is having the better time.
Naruto definitely seems to be getting into it, grinding back harder now as my tongue pushes at his hole. I never asked him if he'd had his ass eaten before, seems like an obvious question to have asked but I didn't. Either way I can tell it must be his "thing" because he starts moaning and that cock of his is definitely more than half hard now, and I'm pretty sure I feel a warm, wet patch against my chest.
Fuck, if that doesn't make me want it more, and I force my jaw and tongue to ache trying to give this hot fucking jock boy the best rim job he ever had.
He shifts, not much, but enough that he can grab his cock, pulling it free. I still can't see it from where I am but I see his arm start to pump as he chases his nut, riding my tongue like its some kind of specialised sex toy while my own dick is untouched, not just untouched but ignored in my sweats. It's fucking perfect. I've died and gone to pig heaven.
"Fuck....yeah...." He's not even talking to me now. It's like I'm not there in that moment as his hand works faster and he lets me feel his weight. He's close. He better be cos right now I can't breathe. He tenses, butt cheeks clenching my face, he shudders one, twice, more....and feel his load spatter across my exposed belly where my shirt had ridden up, warm tickles.
His breathing is deep and slowing and I know he's riding that post nut chill, when all that matters is that warm, relieved feeling. Thankful balls. I'm living my own moment, in ways the opposite, feeling a glow from having helped get him there, from getting to spend time under his perfect ass, and yeah, from fact that it was never for a moment about getting me off.
He left without collecting the other 50. When I realised and texted him about it he said he'd have to pick it up next time. I can't wait to eat his ass.