Work Text:
Shane discovered that he has a shameful kink. He discovered it when he accidentally stumbled upon a Twitter video of a masked man breaking into a young man's bedroom to fuck him in his sleep. At first, he found it truly unhealthy to want this kind of thing, and he didn't really understand the tags he saw: #CNC #BreakIntoHisHouse #Somnophilia. So like any self-respecting person, or rather curious people, he did some research on the internet. He came across several forums, people who seemed to be questioning themselves like him, and the more he read, the more he wanted to try it. So he decided to talk to his fiancé that very evening. Shane was quite shy when it came to talking about what he liked sexually, but he REALLY wanted to try this. So that evening, he turned to Isaac before asking him the question, and what was his surprise when he saw the disgust progressively appearing on his face. The more he explained that it was a fantasy, nothing unhealthy, that it was consensual, the more disgusted Isaac seemed. Shane should have known, over 10 years of relationship, the sex had been very vanilla between them. They always fucked the same way, never toys, never insults, nothing. And Shane wanted to change their habits a bit, but he probably went a bit too strong for this first attempt. So strong that Isaac decided to go to sleep, and Shane, he stayed like an idiot in the living room, watching him leave. He was 35 years old and had never managed to satisfy his fantasies. He was frustrated and didn't know what to do anymore, so he did nothing and stayed in the living room before falling asleep.
In the middle of the night, he woke up after a pretty dirty dream, and he looked under his covers at his cock which was harder than ever. His gray sweatpants had formed a darker wet spot. Fuck, he was so sexually frustrated that he was coming in his sleep like a fucking virgin. So he grabbed his phone, he'd blame it on sleepwalking or some other excuse later, and went on Twitter and into his bookmarks to find one of the accounts he had secretly saved to jerk off to or get inspiration from. He clicked on the message bubble to send a message. He quickly explained his situation without really knowing why he was doing it, but he was fed up, fed up with being so frustrated. So he pressed send, telling himself that at least he had been able to externalize his frustration somewhere, and he went back to sleep.
Upon waking, his fiancé had left at dawn for the weekend. Obviously he was on a business trip, which was bad timing because Shane needed to get fucked, and fast. He hadn't said goodbye to him and that gave him a pang in his heart, but as usual he would send him a message to tell him to be careful and that he loved him more than anything. But when unlocking his phone, he saw a notification he wasn't prepared for: Twitter.
The famous account had replied to him, and his heart skipped a beat. He would never have imagined getting a response, and nothing could have prepared him for the reply he received:
←
I
I.R.✓
@I_9inches
Today
🔒 Messages are encrypted
I
this is me, enjoy the view while you can because tonight i'm gonna fuck you until you pass out
8:13 AM
Start a new message
➤
Shane locked his phone immediately, lowered his eyes, and he was hard. Fuck, he had a golden opportunity, but he couldn't do this, not to Isaac, not after 10 years... or could he? After all, he only has one life and he just wants to get fucked, to cry, to get his hole destroyed. So he grabbed his phone and sent his address.
The day flew by. He'd never been this wired in his life, in every sense of the word. He spent over an hour in the shower with his enema bulb until he was immaculate, then swore off food for the rest of the night to keep himself that way. If he was going to cheat on Isaac, he'd at least do it clean. He checked his phone: 11:45 PM. The sleeping pills were on the nightstand, ready. He didn't trust himself to fall asleep naturally, not with his heart racing like this, and he wanted the stranger to be able to use him before he fully came to. He needed to feel that. He grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper and wrote:
"Turn the camera on the second you walk in. I want to keep this night forever."
He placed the note next to the camera, swallowed his pills, and lay down closing his eyes.
It was 2:45 AM. Ilya stood outside the address he'd been sent, still asking himself why he'd agreed to any of this. But Ilya had always been drawn to danger, to the unknown, and a message that desperate didn't cross his inbox every day. Something about the man's frustration had gotten under his skin. He pulled on his balaclava, slid on his gloves, and the Russian picked the lock like it was nothing, stepping into a total stranger's house.
Inside, there was dead silence. Not a creak, not a single thing out of place. He climbed the stairs on his toes, listening to his own breathing, half hoping the man would not stir, because the thrill of finding a perfect stranger asleep and waiting for him was part of the draw for Ilya too. He found the master bedroom door ajar, a soft nightlight glowing inside. There he was, lying on his side, Ilya crept closer, pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo. Then he noticed the note, and the camera on the nightstand. A low, quiet laugh escaped him.
"Fuck, this guy is really a needy little bitch."
He grabbed the camera, turned it on, and set it on a chair facing the bed. He walked around to the other side to get a proper look at the stranger and was caught off guard. The guy was actually sexy. Half-Asian, maybe, with sharp features softened by sleep. He'd fallen asleep with his glasses still on, and something about that detail made Ilya's cock twitch. It got even better when he pulled the covers back. The man was built, lean and muscular, probably late thirties or so. Ilya was only 27 but he could tell he had a decade on this guy in every way that mattered. His body was solid. His lips, slightly parted, looked made to be used. He was out cold. That was when Ilya noticed the small orange vial on the nightstand. He picked it up and read the label: sleeping pills, Shane Hollander. So that was his name. Shane Hollander. He leaned in close, studying each feature, and the nearer he got the more freckles he found scattered across his face, making him look even more innocent than he already seemed.
Ilya didn't want to waste time. He climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress, and slowly drew his belt through the loops. The metallic clink of the buckle cut through the silence like a warning. He shoved his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his cock, heavy and half-full, and brought it right to Shane's face. He wasn't fully hard yet so he dragged the thick head across those parted lips, smearing them with shiny precum, then rubbed his shaft all over Shane's face, slapping it against his freckles, dragging it under his nose so the man would breathe him in even in his sleep.
"I bet you'd have sniffed it like a good little slut, drooling all over yourself and begging me to let you suck it."
Ilya almost regretted that he wasn't awake. He would have loved to see him beg until the tears came. He gripped Shane's chin with his gloved hand, thumb pressing down, and forced his mouth open to feed his cock inside. The moment that heavy, slack tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft he groaned behind the mask. Fuck, even with next to no experience, Ilya could tell this mouth had been trained on the same cock every night for years. He fisted a hand in Shane's hair and shoved all the way to the back of his throat. Shane's brows furrowed in his sleep, probably dreaming of god knows what, but Ilya would make damn sure he woke up with a cock buried inside him. He held Shane's head still and fucked his mouth in slow, deep strokes, not even needing to use his hips yet. Fuck, it was so good. When he finally pulled out, thick strings of spit connected his cock to Shane's swollen red lips. His mouth looked wrecked already and Ilya had to physically stop himself from leaning in and kissing it. Instead he tapped Shane's cheek with his gloved hand.
"You're such a good fuck toy, Shane."
He climbed off the bed and moved around to the other side, already hungry for the view. He grabbed the waistband of Shane's sweatpants and yanked them down in one rough pull, stripping him bare from the waist down. No underwear. Just the base of a purple jeweled plug nestled between those firm cheeks. The desperate little slut had stretched his own hole open before going to sleep, kept himself ready all night just in case.
"Cute little gesture. But I don't remember giving you permission to prep yourself."
He gripped the base of the plug and twisted it slowly as he pulled it out, watching Shane's hole greedily cling to the shape before it popped free with a filthy wet sound. The pucker stayed slightly open, slick and shiny, twitching around nothing. He tossed the plug on the floor where it clattered against the nightstand. Shane didn't flinch. Ilya crossed his arms, tapping his cheek, debating whether to work him open properly or just shove in and let his body adjust whether it wanted to or not. The wild side didn't even hesitate. He positioned himself right behind Shane, hooked his hands under those meaty hips and dragged him further off the edge of the mattress so his ass was raised and completely at his mercy. He kneaded both cheeks hard, spreading them apart to stare at the wet, loosened hole, nodding slowly.
"With an ass like this I don't know how any sane man could ever say no to filling it."
He spat on his cock, stroked it twice, and pressed the fat, slick head right against the puckered entrance. He clamped his gloved hand tight over Shane's mouth, leaned down until his masked lips brushed Shane's ear.
"We're going to have so much fun."
He drove in dry with one savage thrust, splitting the tight hole open around his thick shaft and burying himself balls deep in one brutal stroke. Every muscle in Shane's body seized instantly. His spine bowed off the mattress, his fingers clawed at the sheets, and a raw muffled scream ripped against Ilya's palm as the hole clamped down like a vice, burning and spasming around the invading cock.
—
Shane's eyes cracked open, heavy and unfocused. His head was swimming from the pills and his ass was throbbing, stretched full around something thick and hot and very much inside him. He tried to piece together where he was, what was happening, and when he turned his head his heart nearly stopped. A masked man was right there behind him, gloved hand sealed over his mouth, and he could feel every inch of cock buried deep in his hole. Pure panic hit him like a sledgehammer. He thrashed, tried to scream, and Ilya caught his flailing arm and pinned it hard against the wall.
"Shh, stop struggling. You're the one who asked me to come. And screaming is pointless. I haven't even started moving yet."
Shane froze. And then it all crashed back. The messages. Isaac. The stranger. The sleeping pills. His cock twitched against the mattress.
"That's it, pretty boy," Ilya whispered, his voice dark and muffled through the mask. "Remember now? Remember how desperate you were? How you begged a complete stranger to break into your house and breed you like the worthless cumdump you are?"
Shane's eyes watered instantly, humiliation and arousal crashing into each other so hard he couldn't separate them. He could feel Ilya's cock pulse inside him, thick and unrelenting, splitting him open with nothing to ease the way. It burned, god it burned so fucking good, the stretch so intense he could feel every ridge and vein, tears already pricking at the corners of his eyes.
Ilya dragged his cock out slowly, forcing Shane to feel every inch scraping against his gripping walls, the swollen head catching on his rim before he slammed back in with enough force to punch the air right out of his lungs. The hand over his mouth slid up to wrap around his throat, gloved fingers pressing into the sides of his neck, squeezing just enough to make his vision blur and darken at the edges.
"Look at you," Ilya growled, thrusting again, harder, deep enough to make Shane's whole body jolt. "Ten years with that vanilla fiancé of yours and you've never been fucked like this, have you? Has Isaac ever stretched you this full? Has he ever made you feel this fucking owned?"
Shane shook his head, tears spilling freely now, running down his cheeks and catching in his freckles. He was actually crying, sobs building in his chest, and he couldn't stop it. The shame was devastating, exquisite, shredding him from the inside. Thirty-five years old and he was being used like a cheap toy by a stranger, and his body was betraying him with every brutal thrust, his cock twitching against the mattress.
"No, he hasn't," Ilya answered for him, his hips snapping forward in a ruthless rhythm, skin slapping loud and wet. "Because you're a fucking whore, Shane. A whore who needs to be broken into and bred like a bitch in heat. Is that what you are? Tell me."
"Y-yes," Shane sobbed, his voice cracking completely. "I'm a whore... please..."
"Please what?" Ilya demanded, yanking his cock out entirely, leaving Shane's hole clenching around nothing for one aching second before slamming back in with a filthy wet slap that echoed through the room. "Please stop? Or please fuck me harder, sir?"
"Harder," Shane gasped, the word ripped out of him like a confession he'd been holding in for ten years. "Please, fuck me harder..."
"Good boy," Ilya praised, and the warmth in his voice hit Shane like a second blow because it contrasted so sharply with the filth pouring out of him. "Such a good boy, taking my raw cock like you were made for it. Did your fiancé ever fuck you like I'm fucking you right now? Did he ever make you feel like a worthless little cumdump?"
"No," Shane cried, shaking his head so hard his glasses slid down his nose. "Never... he never... oh god..."
"That's right," Ilya growled, shifting his angle just enough to nail something deep inside Shane that made white light explode behind his eyes. "He fucks you like a virgin, doesn't he? Gentle, boring, pathetic. And here you are, cheating on him for me, taking a stranger's bare cock like a fucking slut. Say it. Say you're cheating on him for me."
"I'm cheating on him," Shane wailed, his face a wet ruined mess of tears and snot, dignity completely gone. "I'm cheating on Isaac for you... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"Don't be sorry," Ilya commanded, his thrusts turning relentless, each one driving Shane further up the mattress. "Be grateful. Thank me for giving you what you actually need. Thank me for treating you like the cock sleeve you are."
"Thank you," Shane blubbered, fingers twisting in the sheets so hard his knuckles went white. "Thank you for fucking me... thank you for using me..."
Ilya yanked his cock out without warning, leaving Shane's hole twitching and clenching around nothing, so suddenly empty it ached like something had been torn out of him. Before he could even gasp at the loss he was flipped onto his back, spine hitting the mattress, glasses shoved crooked across his tear-soaked face. Ilya was on him in a second, caging him in, masked face inches from his destroyed one.
"We're just getting started, slut," he breathed, spitting thickly into his gloved hand and wrapping those wet fingers around his cock, stroking slow and deliberate while Shane watched through blurry tear-filled lenses. "I haven't even come close to testing your limits yet. Ten years of vanilla sex, you've got so much fucking catching up to do it might take all night."
He grabbed Shane's ankles and shoved his knees to his chest, folding him clean in half, his leaking gaping hole completely exposed and vulnerable. Then he lined himself up and sank back inside in one relentless stroke that didn't stop until his balls pressed flat against Shane's ass. The new angle was obliterating, the thick head crushing directly into Shane's prostate with every single thrust, grinding against it, massaging it, punishing it. A raw animal scream ripped out of Shane's throat, his back arching off the bed, and that was when Ilya reached up and pulled the mask off.
“Look at me,” Ilya commanded.
Shane did.
The face above him was almost unfairly beautiful, not soft, but sharp in a way that made it worse. Pale skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose, a serious mouth that looked too controlled until it curled at the edge, and those light eyes staring down at him like they could take him apart without Ilya ever needing to raise his voice. His curls fell over his forehead in messy golden brown loops, damp with sweat, too pretty for someone holding him down like this. There was a mole on his cheek, another near his neck, small details Shane knew he would remember against his will.
“Memorize this face,” Ilya said, voice low. “Burn it into your skull. This is the man who ruined you. This is the face you’re going to see every time you close your eyes.”
Shane stared up at him, breath ruined, body betraying him, memorizing the pale eyes, the curls, the cruel little mouth, the mole sitting there like even his face had been designed to make people stupid.
He would never forget… He could never forget.
"Please," Shane whispered, reaching up with shaking fingers toward Ilya's face, barely able to make contact, his whole body trembling so violently he felt like he might fall apart. "Please..."
"Please what, Shane?" Ilya asked, slowing his thrusts to a torturous grind, rolling his hips in deep slow circles that kept the swollen head dragging mercilessly over Shane's prostate with every rotation. "Use your words like a good little slut."
"Please make me come," Shane begged, whatever scraps of dignity he had left completely obliterated. "Please... I've never... no one's ever..."
"No one's ever what?" Ilya teased, rotating his hips in a filthy grinding motion that made Shane's spine arch clean off the mattress, a broken whine escaping his lips. "No one's ever made you cry on their cock? No one's ever called you a whore while they stretched your hole out?"
"Never," Shane confirmed, fresh tears spilling down his temples and soaking into his hair, his voice barely recognizable. "Never like this... please... I need to... I'm going to..."
"Not yet," Ilya said, yanking his cock out and flipping Shane over onto his stomach before he could even whimper at the loss. "I want to try something first. Get on your hands and knees. Show me how you present yourself to a real man."
Shane scrambled to obey, his body beyond shaking, driven by pure desperate need. He got on all fours and pushed his ass back, presenting himself obscenely, his hole gaping open and twitching, red, swollen and slick with spit and precum, still clenching around nothing like it was begging to be filled again.
"Look at that," Ilya murmured, running a gloved finger around Shane's stretched rim, feeling it flutter and spasm under his touch. "Such a sloppy ruined hole already and I'm not even close to done with it. You really are a natural whore, aren't you? Born to take cock, born to be bred."
He lined his cock up and pushed two fingers in alongside it, forcing Shane's hole to stretch wider than it ever had, the burn so intense Shane screamed into the pillow, his fingers clawing at the sheets. Ilya held them there, scissoring his fingers inside while his cock throbbed against them, stretching the rim to its limit.
"Such a good boy," Ilya praised, starting to thrust with both his cock and his fingers stuffed inside, the stretch obscene, the wet sounds filthier than anything Shane had ever heard. "Taking it so well. Look at you, opening up so pretty for me. Such a perfect little cumdump. Your fiancé doesn't know what he's missing, does he? Ten years with this ass and he never once thought to break you properly?"
"He never... he doesn't..." Shane couldn't form sentences anymore, just broken sobs and gasps.
"He has no idea," Ilya finished for him. "But I do. I know exactly what that sick little head of yours has been starving for. You don't want gentle. You want to be reminded of what you are."
"Yes," Shane hiccupped, pushing his ass back like he couldn't help it, like his body was begging for it even when his mind was drowning in shame. "Please... tell me... I need to hear it..."
"You're a fucking whore," Ilya said, sliding his fingers out and replacing them with his cock in one deep thrust that made Shane sob into the pillow. "My whore tonight. My personal fleshlight. My cumdump. Say it."
"Your cumdump," Shane repeated, barely audible, his voice wrecked and small and pathetic, like the words were being ripped out of somewhere deep he'd kept locked for years. "Your whore... your fleshlight... please just... please use me, I need it so bad..."
Ilya used him. For what felt like hours, he tested every position, every angle; bending Shane over the edge of the bed, holding him up against the wall, spreading him open on the floor like a starfish. He made Shane ride him, slapping his face whenever he slowed down, calling him a lazy slut, a worthless hole. He fucked Shane's throat again, holding his nose closed while he thrust deep, making him gag and choke and cry, then praised him for being such a good cocksucker, such a natural at taking dick.
Through it all Shane cried. He cried from the humiliation, from the ache, from the sick overwhelming pleasure of finally finally being used the way he'd needed for years. His skin was slick with sweat and spit and precum, his hole raw and swollen and gaping, his cock straining and leaking untouched against his stomach because Ilya refused to touch it, told him good whores get off on being fucked and nothing else.
"You're going to come from my cock alone," Ilya said, flipping Shane one last time and settling back against the headboard. "Like a proper bitch. No hands. Just my dick wrecking your hole."
He pulled Shane onto his lap, positioning them both toward the camera, Shane impaled on his cock with his back against Ilya's chest, legs spread wide so the lens caught everything. His face destroyed by tears, his body marked with red fingerprints and bite marks, his cock drooling a steady stream of precum onto his own stomach.
"Look at the camera," Ilya ordered, gripping Shane's jaw and forcing his head toward the lens. "Look at yourself. This is who you really are, Shane. Not Isaac's good little fiancé. Not the loyal boyfriend. This. A crying pathetic cheating cumdump who needs strangers to break into his house and fuck him to feel alive."
Shane looked. He saw himself, red and blotchy, glasses barely hanging on, mouth slack and wet, body spread open and impaled. He didn't recognize himself and yet he'd never seen himself more clearly.
"Every time Isaac fucks you," Ilya whispered against his ear, rolling his hips up in slow deliberate thrusts that ground directly against Shane's prostate, "every time he takes you like the clueless virgin he is, gentle and safe, you're going to think about this. You're going to lock yourself in the bathroom and watch this video and jerk your pathetic cock raw remembering how it felt to be used by me. Isn't that right?"
"Yes," Shane gasped, his hand drifting toward his cock without thinking.
Ilya slapped it away. "No. You come when I tell you to come. You come when I fill you up. You want to be my good boy? Then you wait for my permission like a good little cumdump."
"Please," Shane begged, his voice thin and wrecked. "Please... I can't hold it... I need..."
"Tell me what you need," Ilya demanded, his own rhythm starting to falter as he got close. "Tell me what you are."
"I'm your cumdump," Shane sobbed, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm your whore... your cheating little slut... please fill me... please breed me... I want to feel it..."
"Fuck," Ilya cursed, his hips snapping up hard. "Fuck, take it... take all of it, you filthy bitch..."
He came with a low groan, burying himself deep and pulsing, flooding Shane's insides with hot thick seed. The feeling of being filled so completely, of being claimed and bred, shoved Shane right over the edge. He came untouched, his cock shooting thick ropes of cum all over his own chest and face, some even landing on his chin, mixing with his tears.
Ilya held him there, still hard, still pulsing, letting Shane milk his cock with his spasming muscles. They stayed like that for a long moment, both panting, Shane still crying softly, overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm and the humiliation of his complete submission.
Finally, Ilya lifted Shane off him, his cock slipping out with a wet filthy sound, and watched his cum immediately start leaking from the abused hole, thick and white, running down Shane's thighs and dripping onto the sheets. He got up, pulled his jeans back up, buckled his belt, and grabbed his hoodie from the chair while Shane lay there completely still, unable to move, his hole still gaping and twitching, cum slowly pooling beneath him.
Ilya walked over to the camera, stopped the recording, and popped out the memory card. He set it on the nightstand right next to Shane's face, then leaned down close, his lips almost brushing Shane's ear.
"Send me the video," he murmured. "I want to see your face when you watch yourself getting broken. And next time your fiancé leaves town, you know exactly who to call."
He straightened up, took one last look at Shane, spread out and ruined, cum still dripping from his used hole onto the sheets, and walked out without another word. The front door clicked shut behind him and the house fell silent.
Shane didn't move. He couldn't. He lay there staring at the ceiling, tears still sliding down his flushed cheeks, his body aching in places he didn't know could ache, his hole still twitching and leaking cum onto the mattress beneath him. His thighs were sticky with it, his stomach covered in his own dried load, his lips still swollen and spit-slick. He felt destroyed in every sense of the word.
And yet, as his trembling fingers eventually found the memory card on the nightstand, he also felt something else. A deep, sick satisfaction settling in his chest. He knew he would never be the same after tonight. And he knew exactly what he'd be doing for the rest of the weekend.