Chapter Text
Kinkdom.com—or Kink Kingdom, as the banner read—fucking sucked. Terrible UI that barely functioned half the time, worse tagging system and even worse people who didn’t know how to use said bloody tagging system. Aerion hoped whoever had decided to start calling cis men’s stretched-out chocolate starfishes “boypussies” would get struck by lightning, and whoever had created the hellish site to get smited as well.
Yet he found himself coming back, and had for years now, because it was the only place he knew where nobody would get him sent to a psych ward or conversion therapy if they were to find out what he was into. Some of the users were there for some casual light BDSM or even looking for relationships like it was Tinder, but just as many were proudly posting—with evidence—about their most depraved fantasies, some of which had made even Aerion’s skin crawl upon learning about them. He’d largely grown immune to almost everything the site had to offer by his third year of using it. Yeah, some people were into wearing diapers or eating shit straight from the source, but that was just a reality he had to come to terms with and ignore.
Tonight had been particularly dry in terms of finding interesting posts or people. That was what Aerion primarily did when logging on; checking out his following feed, then his favorite tags in hopes of running into a man twice his age and size who could manhandle him just the way he liked and maybe even respect his gender identity in the process or, alternatively, a pathetic boytoy who’d let him take his emotions out on them.
Though, even when he did find someone who was his type, starting and holding onto a conversation was a completely different beast. The problem with liking older men, he’d quickly realized, was the fact they could not text for shit. The laughing-crying-emoji was burned into the backs of his eyeballs by now with how much the boomers and generation X adored it.
But then, finally, when he refreshed the page for the umphteenth time, his eyes caught onto something that made him do a double-take and adjust his glasses. A pretty standard shot of a man’s cock, held half-hard in the hand of its owner, but by God was it massive. Aerion clicked on the post to get a better look and gawked at the make and model. Uncut, girthy and seemingly clean, which was something Aerion hated having to clarify. One would think it would go without saying, but he’d come across too much dick cheese in the #dickpic tag, so anyone who looked like they knew how to look after their own hygiene instantly got a boost in his eyes.
He let himself marvel at the vision in front of him a little longer. The photo had been taken high enough to show the man’s navel, which was peppered with a ginger happy trail that led to equally ginger pubes. His stomach was a little soft but in a way that if he flexed, he’d no doubt have a sixpack, and his forearm was nice and veiny. What little he could see of the man’s thighs looked like a nice pillow for him to fall asleep on top of or perhaps get smothered between.
Aerion held back from touching himself right then and there by clicking over to the man’s profile. @SirDTheTall had been an active member for about two years, but only had a handful of pictures, mostly of his manhood, none of which showed anything above his shoulders. Four years older than Aerion, if his bio was to be believed, located in Cardiff, a bisexual top like all of Aerion’s hookups seemed to be nowadays. Aerion ignored the short bio—he didn’t give a shit what the man did for a living or whatever other nonsense was written on it—and skipped straight to the main show: the kink list.
Pretty tame, as far as lists Aerion had seen, but he’d already pretty much accepted that no one would ever perfectly match his freak. If he could convince this man to let him suckle on his cock for a couple hours while tied up under his desk, he would call this a successful night. That, or get a nice massage out of him. He could only imagine how completely those hands would encompass his smaller form.
He clicked the little message icon next to @SirDTheTall’s username and shot him a message he didn’t think too long about.
He went back to scrolling mindlessly through the slop the site had the gall to call content, but a notification popup caught his attention only a few minutes later. @SirDTheTall had replied to his message, and it was frankly embarrassing how quickly Aerion got back to him.
He waited idly for a moment, eyes glued to the corner of the inbox to see when those three dots would surface. They didn’t, even though the green diamond next to the username told Aerion the other man was online. He was already starting to grow impatient in the three minutes that passed without reply—impatient and a little regretful. He sent another message, and finally got the reply bubble to return.
Aerion’s lips curled into a smile at that. If it had been possible, his other lips would’ve been smiling, too, his dick already throbbing.
”Ten fucking inches?” Aerion hissed at the screen. He looked at his own hand, then stretched out his forearm on the mattress next to his laptop. It had to be at least two thirds of that, and probably as thick as his wrist judging from the photos.
He was already leaking onto his bedsheets by the time he received another message.
”Jesus Christ…” Aerion muttered, feeling himself get wetter. The only reason he didn’t slip one hand between his legs was that it’d make typing harder, and he did not want to make this man wait a second longer than necessary.
Aerion spent the idle minutes snapping a pic of his own leaking cunt and airdropping it to his laptop, then quickly editing out the few stray moles on his thighs like he always did. He really was absurdly wet, all things considered. The catalogue of filth on display on the site was hardly titillating—was it really all thanks to a stray compliment from a man he’d started talking to less than a quarter of an hour ago?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was likely not even ten minutes, he got another message.
“Oh fuck,” Aerion whispered, cunt all but squealing at the photo he’d been graced with.
@SirDTheTall was so fucking hot. Not in the way Hollywood stars or Calvin Klein models were, but somehow the fact that he looked like a real person just made him hotter. As cliché and disgustingly romantic it sounded, Aerion found himself getting lost in those bright blue eyes. They were so big. His arms were so big. His pecs were so big, and hairy! He was built like a damn wall, which Aerion had already concluded from the public photos of him, but it was amplified when he could see the man’s face.
He returned from his stupor and fat-fingered his trackpad, almost accidentally sending the man his university coursework instead of his nudes and mistyping his response twice. He felt like a schoolboy who’d just had a girl flash her tits at him for the first time. Was it possible for his nystagmus to be getting worse over how horny he was?
Aerion watched as the three dots appeared in the corner, then vanished, then came back, then vanished again. He grinned like a shark.
Aerion’s whole body felt scorching.
Dunk. How the fuck was he supposed to moan a name like that?
That wasn’t much better.
So they were finally delving into things. Aerion breathed a sigh of relief. Dunk—that’s what his brain defaulted to for now—was nice enough chatting company, but neither of them were on the site to exchange pleasantries.
Aerion paused. No one had ever bothered to ask him that before.
Aerion did, even if every passing second without hearing from the man was making his pulse quicken.
Since Dunk was taking his sweet time, he clicked over to his own profile to take a look at it from the perspective of the other man. It was hard to put himself into a headspace of the “gentle giant” archetype the man seemed to exude, at least without making himself look utterly insane. He stared at his own kink list, hunting down tags they had in common and could be used to suggest something for a hookup that wouldn’t make the man run for the hills.
He truly was twisted, he concluded from his tag-poaching session—that’s what it had turned into, essentially, since he’d gone and deleted a couple of them even if it was too late for them to update on Dunk’s end. He’d been pretty heavy-handed when selecting them after making his profile at the ripe age of twenty. Heavy-handed, inexperienced and so incredibly horny. He added and removed tags quite regularly, after almost every meet-up if he’d learned something new about himself, good or bad.
Aerion was genuinely a bit terrified when clicked on the next message notification.
Aerion wasn’t quite sure about that, but he decided to let Dunk decide for himself if his pussy was worth the trouble and opened a new browser tab to go have a look at the aforementioned list.
It was a real list, a Google Docs document meticulously organized with scenes for future sessions written in his 3 a.m. horny states and links to all the porn videos that he wanted to come back to or perhaps re-enact with a willing partner. He’d been collecting them since his late teens, but they’d started getting more and more perverted in nature as time had gone by. Rough vanilla sex had turned to BDSM, then to more bizarre kinks like suffocation and bodily fluids, then to something akin to pure domestic violence. Some of them were very realistic, to a point where sometimes his post-nut clarity made him wonder if he’d just jerked it to an actual snuff film. Surely those were not posted on Twitter, though…
He slowly dragged his fingers along the trackpad, scrolling down the long document of depravity. He wondered if he should start with something light or just rip off the bandaid and send Dunk the worst things his brain had conjured up.
“Fuck it,” Aerion hissed and switched back to the Kink Kingdom tab. He typed and sent a message before he could pussy out and then slipped off his bed to go get himself a drink. He haphazardly grabbed a silk robe on his way out the door; his family was most likely in deep slumber by now, but he didn’t feel like risking it and flashing his wet cunt at his father or either one of his brothers that night, even if some twisted part of him would have loved to see the reaction. The incest tag was on his kink list for a reason.
The house was silent as he padded downstairs, but the dim light coming through the kitchen doorway told him at least somebody else was up and about in the building. He peeked around the door frame and found Daeron stood in front of the open fridge, chugging orange juice straight out the carton. The lights weren’t on; the glow was coming from the lamp inside the fridge, painting his older brother in a white glow that made his eyes sting.
“You’re back,” Aerion said, not bothering to lower his voice.
Daeron jumped and choked on his drink. He spluttered and spat it all over himself.
“What the fuck?” he got through his coughing, juice dripping down his unshaved jaw.
Aerion watched the sorry display with a mixture of amusement and disgust. “You never come home this early on a Saturday night. Did you get banned from another pub?”
Daeron glared at him through his greasy hair and grabbed a roll of paper towels, beginning to pat himself and the shelf of the fridge down. “No. They closed early.”
“Every pub, bar and nightclub in Central London closed?”
“God forbid I want a good night’s rest for once.”
Aerion shrugged and slipped over to the fridge, masterfully dodging the puddle on the floor. He grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew and left Daeron to deal with the mess on his own. “Well, good night then, dear brother.”
“Just– Fuck off,” he heard from the kitchen even after rounding the corner.
He had almost forgotten about what he’d been running from in the first place thanks to the distraction downstairs, but as soon as Aerion got back to his room and saw the glowing laptop screen of doom with new messages, he almost spilled his drink, too. He put the cap back on and shed off his robe before crashing back onto the bed, nervously gnawing his lips. A wave of cringe washed over him as he read his earlier message.
Aerion practically vibrated as he typed a response.
He paused and stared at the keyboard. Now what? Aerion wasn’t usually the one desperately begging in someone’s inbox; more often than not the doms he messaged had very specific fantasies they wished for him to fulfill, and the subs already knew what they were signing up for by the time they contacted him. This was new. He felt a bit odd.
Aerion quickly sent his contact info. He’d never been too precious about protecting his number; it was easy enough to block any people who he no longer wanted to chat to, and nobody had resulted in stalking him as of yet. And, honestly, if they had… Perhaps that would’ve made him more interested.
He smiled at his screen like an idiot for a moment, until his phone buzzed on the mattress next to his laptop. He sat up, chugging down some more soda, and checked his WhatsApp.
Aerion quickly saved the contact under Sir D, then spent a second staring at the man’s profile picture. Shorter hair, no beard, probably taken a few years ago. Very cute.
A heart emoji. Who the fuck was he? Some hopeless romantic slut? At least it wasn’t a pink and sparkly one. He shook his head and put his phone away, then logged out of kinkdom.com so Dunk would not be able to know he was not going to sleep and opened PornHub instead. He really didn’t focus on whatever was happening on the screen, though. His mind was elsewhere.
More specifically, in Cardiff.