Randy for Submission, Pursuing the One, Chapter 14: Last Taste

Chapter 14: Last Taste

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Randy sent the text without thinking too hard about it.

Randy: Hey. Yesterday was great.

The typing dots came up almost immediately.

Ezra: Yeah, it was. Real good.

Randy smiled, thumb already moving.

Randy: Wanna do it again?

Ezra: For sure.

He hovered over the screen a moment, debating what to type next.

Randy: How about dinner Friday? There’s a new steak place I’ve been wanting to try.

This time the dots didn’t come up right away. He stared at the blank screen for half a minute, waiting, until the reply finally arrived.

Ezra: Oh, you meant eating and shit?

Randy: Yeah. Eating and shit. We can fuck after, obviously. But I want to get to know you better.

The typing dots appeared, disappeared, then came back again before Ezra’s next reply landed.

Ezra: I’m really just looking for a hookup, man. Not after anything serious right now.

Randy stared at the words. He wasn’t crushed. It wasn’t heartbreak. But the message felt like a pinprick to the small, hopeful bubble he had been inflating in his mind.

He thought about the signs he had ignored. Ezra bailing on their first coffee date with a lame excuse. Ezra’s habit of leaving as soon as they finished, no lingering, no talking. The way every text looped back to sex, never anything more personal. He had noticed all of it and pushed it aside, telling himself Ezra just needed time.

Now it was clear Ezra didn’t need time. He didn’t want that time.

Randy set the phone on the arm of the couch and stared across the room. He felt a small twist of irritation at himself, not at Ezra, for assuming there might be more there, for filling in blanks with a story that wasn’t real.

The disappointment wasn’t devastating, but it was heavy. Ezra was gorgeous, exciting in the way a sparkler is, but sparklers don’t warm you for long.

Randy rubbed his jaw, replaying every little moment in his head, and the picture sharpened. Ezra had never misled him. He had just never offered more than his body.

Randy picked up the phone again and read the words one more time.

Just looking for a hookup.

There was no mistaking it.

He let the phone drop back onto the cushion beside him and sat there quietly, letting the truth settle in, letting himself feel the sting of it without letting it swallow him whole.

Randy sat with Ezra’s message sitting on his screen for a long minute.

Just looking for a hookup.

He wasn’t going to beg. He wasn’t even going to argue. He picked the phone back up.

Randy: That’s fair. We never really talked about it.

He hesitated only briefly before typing again.

Randy: I am looking for more. But I wouldn’t mind one more goodbye fuck before I go back to looking for something serious.

The typing dots came up almost instantly.

Ezra: Come by my place tonight?

There it was. Direct. No emojis. No excuses. Just an open door.

Randy: I’ll be there.

He tossed the phone onto the couch beside him and sat back. There was no point dwelling on what Ezra wasn’t. The fantasy he’d built had popped like a soap bubble, and what remained was something simpler, sharper. Ezra had always wanted sex, and tonight Randy would give him exactly that.

By the time evening came, Randy’s mood had hardened into something focused. He didn’t choose his shirt with Ezra’s taste in mind. He didn’t think about what wine might go with dinner, because there wasn’t going to be dinner. He just pulled on dark jeans, a fitted T‑shirt, and boots and left his apartment.

The drive was quiet. The city looked different through the windshield now. He wasn’t on his way to see someone who might be a boyfriend. He was on his way to someone who had made it clear he was just a body.

When Ezra’s building came into view, Randy parked and sat for a second before cutting the engine. The thought crossed his mind that this would be the last time. That it needed to be.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, each step tightening the coiled energy in him.

When Ezra opened the door, he was barefoot, wearing loose shorts and a tank top. He smiled without hesitation, easy and pretty, the same way he always had.

Randy didn’t smile back. He stepped inside. There was no kiss. No casual hug. Just the weight of his presence filling the room.

The air felt different already.

Ezra’s smile faltered for a split second, then shifted into something else entirely. Anticipation.

Randy set his keys on the counter and turned toward him.

“Bedroom,” he said quietly.

Ezra didn’t question it. He just nodded and led the way.

Randy followed, silent, every step measured. He wasn’t angry, but the softness that had been there before was gone.

By the time they reached the bedroom door, Ezra’s pulse was visible in his throat.

Randy stopped in the doorway, looking at him like he was sizing him up.

Tonight, Ezra wasn’t a boyfriend candidate. He was a toy.

Ezra turned in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame like he thought he might make this cute. He wasn’t smiling as wide now, but his expression still had that lazy prettiness that always made him look younger, softer, almost smug without trying.

Randy closed the gap between them in two steps.

“Clothes off,” Randy said.

The tank top was gone in a single tug. Ezra dropped his shorts in a puddle at his feet. He stood there naked, already half-hard, his cock twitching at the sudden tension in the room. Randy didn’t give him time to make a joke or to ease the air with some smirk. He grabbed Ezra by the jaw, tilted his head back, and spat in his mouth.

Ezra gasped, then swallowed, the noise sharp and obscene in the quiet apartment. His cock hardened the rest of the way like someone had flicked a switch.

“On your knees,” Randy said.

Ezra dropped fast, as if gravity had yanked him down. He stared up at Randy, cock stiff, breath coming a little harder now. Randy unzipped and dragged his cock free, hard already, heavy in his hand. He slapped it across Ezra’s face once, twice, watching the mess build: spit streaks, precum smears, the sting of each blow turning Ezra’s cheeks a flushed pink.

“Open your mouth.”

Ezra obeyed without hesitation. Randy shoved himself between his lips, pushing deep enough to make Ezra’s eyes water on the first thrust. He grabbed the back of Ezra’s head, fingers twisting into his hair, and started to use him—hard, fast, no warming up. Ezra gagged around him, hands gripping Randy’s thighs for balance, but he didn’t pull away. He leaned in.

“Messy,” Randy muttered, tugging Ezra’s head back just far enough to spit on his cock, the drool mixing with his own spit, running down Ezra’s chin. “Make it fucking messy.”

Ezra moaned around him. It was guttural, shameless. Spit pooled at the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his chest. Randy smacked him again with his cock, the wet crack of it echoing off the bedroom walls, then shoved it back down his throat, holding him there until Ezra’s body jolted, until he coughed around him.

“Good,” Randy said, voice low. “Don’t stop.”

Ezra shook his head lightly in what might have been an instinctive reaction, but it wasn’t resistance, it was need. He pressed back onto Randy’s cock again, tears running down his flushed face, gasping through his nose when Randy let him breathe, groaning when Randy didn’t.

“Hands behind you,” Randy said.

Ezra obeyed instantly, locking his fingers together at the small of his back. It made his chest arch, made him look even more exposed. Randy kept fucking his mouth, rough, each thrust sharp and deliberate, spit and precum dripping onto Ezra’s lap.

“You like this,” Randy said. Not a question.

Ezra gagged again, eyes locked on Randy’s, and then he did it; he whispered around the cock stuffed in his mouth, barely audible: “Yes, Master.”

The word stopped Randy for half a second. Ezra had been saying “sir” for the last few weeks. This was different.

“Say it again,” Randy ordered.

Ezra pulled off for one gasping breath, eyes wet, face streaked, and said it louder. “Yes, Master.”

Randy felt his cock throb at the sound.

He shoved it back into Ezra’s mouth, harder this time, holding the back of his head with both hands now, using him in brutal, fast strokes that had Ezra drooling everywhere, thick strings of spit hanging from his chin to the floor.

“Look at you,” Randy growled. “Fucking disgusting. You love it.”

Ezra whimpered, choked, nodded as much as he could with his mouth full.

Randy pulled out suddenly and grabbed Ezra by the hair, yanking his head back. “Tongue out.”

Ezra stuck it out instantly, pink and wet, spit dripping off the tip. Randy spit again, right onto it, and Ezra swallowed like it was a treat.

“Good boy,” Randy muttered, then shoved two fingers into Ezra’s mouth, hooking them hard into his cheeks to pull them wide, making Ezra’s pretty face look ugly and stretched, jaw aching.

“Stay like that.”

Ezra moaned around Randy’s fingers. His cock twitched against his stomach, leaking without a single touch.

Randy used his free hand to drag his cock over Ezra’s face, smearing precum across his cheeks, his lips, the corners of his stretched mouth. He tapped it against Ezra’s nose, then his tongue, then slid back in. Ezra gagged again, louder this time, a string of drool sliding from his bottom lip to the floor.

“Yeah,” Randy said quietly, almost to himself. “That’s better.”

He pulled Ezra’s head down, hard, until his nose was pressed into his pelvis, until Ezra’s throat clenched tight around him. Ezra’s body shuddered, but he didn’t fight it. He made a low, broken sound instead.

Randy pulled out just long enough for Ezra to gasp and cough, spit flying from his lips, then shoved himself back in, faster, rougher, Ezra’s face jerking with every thrust.

“Hands still behind you?” Randy demanded.

Ezra nodded frantically, eyes glassy.

“Good.” Randy grabbed his chin and slapped him lightly with his free hand. Then again, harder, watching the pink bloom across his skin.

“Thank me,” Randy ordered.

Ezra gasped, his voice wrecked. “Thank you, Master.”

Randy grabbed him by the hair and shoved his cock deep again. “Louder.”

Ezra gagged, spit flying, and when Randy let him pull back just enough to speak, he shouted it this time. “Thank you, Master!”

The words echoed in the room.

Randy yanked him off completely, cock slick and shining, strings of spit stretching between them. He stood over Ezra, breathing hard, looking at the mess of him. His face was wet, swollen, streaked with tears. His chest glistened with drool.

“You’re disgusting,” Randy said, grabbing Ezra’s chin, forcing him to look up.

Ezra smiled through the mess. “Yes, Master.”

Randy smirked. Then he turned and toed his boots off, peeling off his socks one at a time. He shoved one foot into Ezra’s open mouth, pushing hard enough to make him gag again.

“Lick.”

Ezra’s tongue ran along the arch of his foot immediately, no hesitation. Randy shoved deeper, grinding his toes against Ezra’s tongue, his teeth, then pulled back and spit again onto his face.

Ezra moaned. His cock slapped against his stomach, hard as steel, leaking pre-cum down his abs.

“God, you really are a slut,” Randy said, his voice low and sharp. “Look at you. Filthy little slut.”

Ezra nodded, mouth still full of foot, eyes shining.

Randy switched feet. “All of it,” he ordered.

Ezra obeyed, licking every toe, sucking, gagging again when Randy pushed too far.

Randy pulled his foot away finally, grabbed Ezra by the hair again, and shoved his cock back into his mouth. Ezra choked on the first thrust, spit flying, and Randy smirked, tightening his grip.

“More,” Randy muttered. “Take it.”

Ezra’s throat clenched, but he didn’t move away. He leaned in, letting Randy use him, moaning every time Randy’s cock slammed into his throat, every time Randy slapped his face or spat on him or called him a slut.

By now, Ezra’s face was wrecked: eyes red and wet, cheeks slick, lips swollen and raw.

Randy yanked Ezra’s head back by the hair, his cock slipping from Ezra’s mouth with a wet pop. Spit and precum hung between them, dripping down Ezra’s chin.

“Face down,” Randy ordered.

Ezra flattened to the floor without hesitation. Randy pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed until Ezra’s cheek ground into the hardwood.

“Stay down.”

He swung a leg over Ezra’s back, straddling him, and bent his head back by the hair, forcing his neck into an uncomfortable arch. Ezra’s lips parted on instinct and Randy shoved his cock back in, grinding it deep from above.

The angle made Ezra gag violently, his throat closing around Randy as his hands twitched at his sides, desperate for balance. Randy kept him there anyway, fucking his mouth from above, watching spit pour down Ezra’s face to puddle on the floor.

“You’ll take it however I want,” Randy said, voice sharp in the stillness.

Ezra whimpered something around his cock that sounded like “Yes, Master,” the word mangled by the thickness in his mouth.

Randy used him there for a brutal minute, just long enough to make Ezra’s eyes glassy, his neck strained, his throat raw. Then he yanked him off by the hair, letting his cock slap against Ezra’s cheek as he commanded, “On your back.”

Ezra rolled over immediately, hair plastered to his wet face, chest rising and falling hard, his cock slapping up against his stomach, stiff and leaking.

Randy stripped the rest of his own clothes off and stepped between Ezra’s legs. He crouched over him, his cock hanging heavy, his ass right above Ezra’s open mouth.

“You know what to do,” Randy said.

Ezra’s lips curved into the faintest grin before he dove in.

The first touch of his tongue was tentative, like he was testing how far he could go. Randy grabbed his hair with one hand and shoved his face closer, grinding down until Ezra’s nose pressed hard between his cheeks.

“No teasing,” Randy said. “Eat it.”

Ezra moaned and obeyed. His tongue flattened, licking long, slow strokes, lapping from hole to balls and back again, tasting every inch Randy offered him. His breath came hard and hot, the tip of his tongue pressing insistently until it slid inside.

“That’s it,” Randy muttered. “Deeper.”

Ezra groaned against him and pushed harder, his tongue wriggling in, probing, then retreating only to lick in tight circles, making it sloppy and filthy. Spit ran down from his lips onto Randy’s taint, slicking everything he touched.

Randy ground back, forcing Ezra’s face even closer. “Stay in there,” he ordered.

Ezra’s tongue pressed deep again, twisting, searching, working him in eager bursts that made Randy let out a low groan despite himself. Ezra didn’t slow. He licked and sucked, moaning into the flesh he was worshipping.

Randy looked down at him, his hair dark with spit, his face wet, his eyes wide but hungry.

“Slut,” Randy muttered. “You’d live there if I let you.”

“Yes, Master,” Ezra panted between licks, before diving back in without pause.

He licked lower, sucking Randy’s balls into his mouth, slurping them one at a time before dragging his tongue up again, spreading spit across Randy’s hole and diving his tongue in again. He didn’t just rim. He devoured, licking like he was starving, groaning when Randy pressed down harder on the back of his head.

“Keep going,” Randy said. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

Ezra moaned at the command and his cock twitched against his stomach, leaking pre-cum as his tongue worked harder and harder. He kissed and licked and sucked until his chin dripped with spit and Randy’s ass gleamed with it, wet and glistening.

Randy didn’t ease up. He spread himself wider with his hands, looking down at Ezra’s flushed, messy face.

“Get in there,” he growled.

Ezra obeyed instantly. His tongue pressed deeper than before, his nose mashed tight, his moans vibrating against Randy’s skin. He licked until his jaw shook, until his breathing turned ragged and desperate, until Randy finally yanked him back by the hair.

Ezra’s face was a ruin. Spit smeared across his cheeks, lips wet and shiny, his chin dripping. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a sprint, his cock hard and drooling onto his stomach.

Randy looked down at him, satisfied, then growled, “Back to sucking.”

Ezra gasped like he’d been waiting for that. He opened his mouth wide, spit and sweat shining on his lips, and Randy shoved his cock back in, hard.

Ezra moaned like he’d been given something he needed more than air.

Randy used him even rougher now, holding Ezra’s head steady while his hips snapped forward, his cock punching into Ezra’s throat, pulling back only to spit on his face or slap his cheeks with the slick shaft before forcing it down again.

Each thrust turned Ezra’s face into more of a wreck. Tears streaked his cheeks, spit poured from his mouth, strings of drool dribbled down his neck.

“You love this,” Randy said, not as a question.

Ezra’s answer was a muffled, hungry moan around his cock, his eyes glassy but fixed on Randy like he couldn’t look away.

Randy gripped his hair tight and shoved him all the way down to the base, holding him there, making him choke, watching his throat bulge.

“That’s it,” Randy said. “Stay right there.”

Ezra held, gagging, his whole body twitching, his cock leaking onto his stomach, his hands gripping the sheets tight as he let Randy use his throat.

Randy pulled him off again, spit and precum trailing, his cock shining in the low light. He smacked Ezra’s face lightly with it again, each slap a wet crack that left him even messier.

Ezra’s lips were swollen, his breath ragged, his face wet and raw.

And Randy wasn’t finished.

Randy shoved Ezra back onto his elbows, his own cock still glistening with spit and precum. Ezra’s mouth hung open automatically, his tongue slack, like he couldn’t wait for whatever came next.

Randy leaned in and slapped his cock across Ezra’s cheek again, harder this time. Spit sprayed, and Ezra’s head rocked with the impact. Randy did it again, then pressed the slick head against Ezra’s lips, smearing precum there like gloss.

“Clean it,” Randy said.

Ezra licked across his lips and then leaned forward to suck the head in, swirling his tongue over the tip, obedient and eager.

Randy took a fistful of Ezra’s hair again and forced him lower. He fed him the whole length, shoving past his lips, past his tongue, until Ezra’s throat closed around him.

“Hold it,” Randy ordered.

Ezra froze, throat stretched, his body trembling as he tried to stay still. His eyes watered instantly, and a thick string of drool spilled out of the corner of his mouth.

Randy counted slowly, “One. Two. Three.”

By four, Ezra’s body jolted with the effort to breathe, but he didn’t pull away.

“Good boy,” Randy muttered, and then let him pull off for a single gasping breath.

Ezra coughed, spit flying down his chin, but before his chest could settle, Randy shoved him back down again. This time there was no pause. He fucked into his throat with hard, mechanical strokes, forcing Ezra to match his rhythm or choke.

Ezra chose to choke. His gagging noises were wet and desperate, his nose running now, tears streaking his face as Randy used him.

Randy gritted his teeth and pushed deeper, holding Ezra’s head in place. “You don’t need to breathe,” Randy said quietly. “You just need to serve.”

Ezra made a sound around his cock that could only be described as a moan, low and obscene, vibrating against Randy’s shaft.

Randy pulled out abruptly, a rope of spit following the motion, and slapped his cock across Ezra’s wet face again, leaving streaks from his lips to his forehead.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Randy said, and then he spat directly into Ezra’s mouth.

Ezra swallowed instantly, looking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, his cock straining against his stomach.

“Again,” Randy ordered.

Ezra opened his mouth wider, tongue out, and Randy shoved his cock back inside. He drove in harder this time, his thrusts so deep that Ezra’s entire body rocked forward with each one.

The sounds filled the room: wet sucking, gagging, Randy’s low grunts, the slap of his cock hitting Ezra’s lips, the steady drip of spit hitting the sheets.

Ezra’s face was red and raw, his jaw trembling from being held open so long, his lips swollen and slick. He gagged again, harder, and Randy grabbed the back of his head with both hands, holding him there as he pumped into his throat.

“You love this,” Randy said again, voice steady now, not even a question.

Ezra’s eyes rolled slightly and then refocused, locked on Randy’s, and he nodded as best he could with his mouth full, drool spilling from the corners of his lips onto his chest.

“Good,” Randy muttered, pushing him even lower, feeling Ezra’s throat clench and release around him like it had learned his shape.

He let him off only long enough for a single rasp of breath, and then pushed him back down, feeding him the cock like Ezra couldn’t be trusted with air until Randy allowed it.

By now, Ezra’s mouth wasn’t just servicing Randy’s cock. It was worshipping it.

Randy shifted his grip, holding Ezra’s jaw with one hand and his hair with the other, forcing his head into a steady, brutal rhythm. He was using him like nothing more than a hole, and Ezra responded by moaning around the thick shaft, the sound vibrating through Randy’s cock.

“Look at me,” Randy said.

Ezra’s eyes snapped up, glossy with tears, lashes wet, spit dripping down his chin. Randy pushed deeper, holding him there until Ezra’s throat squeezed tight, his entire body twitching as he struggled to hold it.

“That’s it,” Randy murmured, tightening his fingers in Ezra’s hair. “You stay right there. You don’t move.”

Ezra stayed, throat locked around him, drool pouring out of his mouth in thick strings. When Randy finally yanked him off, Ezra coughed hard, spit flying across his chest and the sheets, then gasped desperately for air.

Randy slapped his face lightly with his cock, once, twice, smearing precum and spit across his cheeks. He pressed the slick head against Ezra’s lips, tapping it there. “Suck it clean.”

Ezra’s tongue flicked out immediately, licking every inch he could reach before he swallowed the head again, working his tongue around it like it was the only thing that mattered.

Randy groaned low in his throat, gripping Ezra’s chin and pushing back into his mouth. Ezra opened wider, throat ready this time, and took him deeper, faster. Randy started thrusting again, hard, the sound of his cock hitting the back of Ezra’s throat filling the room along with Ezra’s gags and muffled moans.

“You want more?” Randy asked, his voice sharp.

Ezra tried to nod, but Randy’s cock was still filling his throat. He managed a muffled sound, a broken “mmm,” and his eyes said the rest.

Randy pulled him off suddenly, letting him gasp for breath. “Say it,” Randy demanded.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra panted, spit running down his chin. “I want more.”

Randy smirked, spat on his cock, then grabbed Ezra’s head again. “Then take it.”

He shoved him back down, harder than before, fucking his face with rough, relentless thrusts. Ezra gagged, choked, tears running freely now, but he clung to Randy’s thighs and held himself there, like he couldn’t stand the idea of being anywhere else.

Randy pushed him all the way down until his nose was buried in his skin. Ezra’s throat clenched, trying to swallow him whole, and Randy held him there, watching his face flush deep red.

“Good,” Randy muttered, almost to himself.

Ezra coughed when Randy finally let him off again, spit flying, his lips swollen and raw. He licked them, waiting, his cock throbbing untouched against his stomach.

Randy looked down at him, breathing steady, eyes dark.

Randy hooked his fingers under Ezra’s chin, tilting his face up. Ezra’s lips were wet and swollen, his cheeks flushed, streaked with spit and tears.

“Open,” Randy said.

Ezra obeyed immediately, mouth wide, tongue out like he was begging. Randy pressed the tip of his cock against it, smearing precum across the slick surface before sliding forward.

He shoved Ezra flat on his back, then dragged him so his head hung slightly over the edge of the bed. The position left Ezra’s throat wide open, his neck stretched tight, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed nervously.

“Stay there.”

Ezra nodded, his mouth already parted again. Randy stepped forward and pushed the head of his cock past Ezra’s lips. Ezra relaxed his throat automatically, but Randy didn’t pause or let him adjust. He drove forward in one sharp motion, burying himself to the hilt.

Ezra gagged hard, his eyes going wide, spit exploding out of his mouth. Randy tightened his grip on Ezra’s hair and jaw and started hammering his throat, fast and rough, not giving him a second to catch up.

The wet sound of each thrust filled the room. Spit poured from Ezra’s lips, ran down his cheeks, sprayed across his face every time Randy bottomed out. Drool streamed into his hair, coated his neck, puddled under his head on the sheets.

Ezra gagged and choked, but he didn’t try to pull away. His hands clutched the bedding, his cock jerking untouched against his stomach. Randy kept his rhythm vicious, each thrust sharp and deep, each withdrawal fast only so he could slam back in again.

“Take it,” Randy growled, his voice calm and steady even as his hips snapped forward.

Ezra’s throat convulsed around him, every gag making the fit tighter, hotter. His face was completely covered now. Thick strings of spit stretched from his lips to Randy’s shaft, broke, and sprayed across his cheeks.

Randy didn’t slow down. He kept pounding Ezra’s mouth, pumping spit out of him like his throat was a faucet, watching his pretty-boy face turn red and slick.

Ezra’s eyes streamed with tears. Spit bubbled around the corners of his lips, dripping down his temples and into his hair. When Randy pulled back far enough for just the head to rest on his tongue, spit poured from Ezra’s mouth like he had no control over it anymore.

“That pretty face looks like a fucking disaster now,” Randy said flatly, and shoved himself back in, driving his cock into Ezra’s throat in long, brutal strokes.

Ezra gagged violently, spit spraying up over his cheeks and chin. Randy didn’t stop. He pummelled his throat until it looked like Ezra had been drenched in his own saliva, his lips raw, his cheeks slick, his nose running, tears mixing with spit.

When Randy finally pulled out, a thick rope of drool clung to the head of his cock before snapping, spraying across Ezra’s chin. Ezra gasped for breath, chest heaving, his face completely ruined.

Randy looked down at him, satisfied with the wreckage. “Good,” he muttered. “Now get on all fours.”

Ezra rolled onto his stomach without a word, his cock bouncing between his thighs as he shifted. He got onto his hands and knees, his back arched, his chest already slick from drool that had run down onto it.

Randy stood behind him for a moment, just watching. Ezra’s hole was already flexing slightly, twitching like his body knew what was coming. Randy pressed a hand to the small of his back and pushed, flattening him further so his chest and face sank into the sheets.

“Stay low,” Randy said.

Ezra nodded into the mattress, his voice muffled. “Yes, Master.”

Randy went over to the small travel bag he’d brought with him for just this purpose. He reached in, retrieved a length of bondage rope and showed Ezra what he’d pulled out.

Randy was only a little surprised when Ezra put his hands behind his back, wrists crossed without even being told. Randy secured those wrists with expert precision and then tied off the end of the rope to Ezra’s bedpost, effectively keeping him in position.

Randy grabbed him by the hips, pulling his ass back and spreading him open with his thumbs. Ezra groaned softly, his cock hanging heavy, dripping onto the bedspread.

Randy spat. The spit hit Ezra’s hole with a wet sound and ran down between his cheeks. Randy spat again, rubbing it in with his fingers, making the skin slick and shiny.

Ezra moaned into the sheets.

“You like that?” Randy asked, his voice even.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra said again, clearer this time.

Randy pressed two fingers against him and felt the resistance. Ezra pushed back slightly, inviting him in. Randy didn’t rush. He slid one finger in first, pushing past the tight ring until it sank deep. Ezra made a sharp noise, his body twitching, but he didn’t move away.

Randy worked him open slowly, then added a second finger. The stretch made Ezra gasp, his hips jerking. Randy used his free hand to slap his ass, once, twice, leaving a pink bloom where his palm hit.

“Don’t move,” Randy said.

Ezra whimpered and stayed perfectly still.

Randy scissored his fingers, opening him up, then pulled them out suddenly. Ezra exhaled hard at the loss.

“Beg for it,” Randy said.

Ezra turned his head just enough to speak. “Please, Master,” he panted, voice low and raw. “Please fuck me.”

Randy spit again, a thick line that slid down and disappeared between Ezra’s cheeks. He stepped closer, pressed the head of his cock to Ezra’s hole, and pushed.

Ezra groaned, his whole body tensing as Randy eased in, slow but firm. The head popped through and Ezra’s breath hitched.

Randy held there for a second, feeling the tightness wrap around him, then shoved forward. Ezra gasped loudly, his hands clutching the sheets, his back arching.

“That’s it,” Randy muttered, pushing deeper, inch by inch, until his hips met Ezra’s ass and there was nowhere left to go.

Ezra let out a long, broken moan into the pillow.

Randy grabbed his hips and pulled almost all the way out, then slammed forward, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

Randy set a steady rhythm, his hips snapping forward with sharp, deliberate thrusts. Each time his body met Ezra’s, the sound echoed in the room—wet, solid, unavoidable. Ezra tugged at the restraints with every push, pulling back so hard his knuckles were pale.

“You wanted this,” Randy said, voice low, more statement than question.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra managed, his voice catching as Randy drove into him again.

Randy tightened his grip on Ezra’s hips, pulling him back into each thrust. The force made Ezra jolt forward on the bed, his knees squeaking against the sheets. Every push pressed a louder sound from him, his voice climbing, becoming a mix of moans and short, sharp cries.

Randy leaned over him, his chest brushing Ezra’s back, one hand still gripping his hip, the other coming up to slap across his ass. The sharp crack made Ezra gasp and clench tight around him.

“That’s better,” Randy muttered, landing another slap, harder this time.

Ezra’s breath hitched and his hole squeezed down on Randy’s cock like his body was begging for more.

Randy straightened up and dragged Ezra’s torso higher, forcing him onto his forearms so his ass tilted up even further. He spat on Ezra’s back, the spit streaking down the smooth skin, and then pressed a palm flat between his shoulders, pushing him back down again.

“You stay low when I tell you to,” Randy said, his voice calm but heavy.

Ezra whimpered, his face buried in the sheets, his cock still hard and untouched, dripping onto the bedspread.

Randy started to move faster. The thrusts turned harsher, his hips slamming into Ezra’s ass over and over until the bed shifted under them. Ezra’s moans turned ragged, each one higher, louder, as Randy kept driving in.

Randy grabbed a fistful of Ezra’s hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to arch. “Louder,” Randy said.

Ezra’s mouth opened wide and the moans spilled out, shameless now, echoing through the room.

“That’s it,” Randy muttered, his cock pounding into him with mechanical force, the slick slide of spit and precum making every stroke filthy and loud.

Ezra’s whole body trembled under him, body straining to hold his position as Randy fucked him harder and harder, pulling him back into every thrust like he was nothing more than something to use.

“You love this,” Randy said, his breath rough.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra moaned, his voice breaking on the words.

Randy’s hips slammed forward again, harder, the slap of skin sharp enough to make Ezra jolt. “Say it again.”

“I love it,” Ezra gasped, his voice desperate.

Randy’s cock drove deep, burying to the hilt. He grabbed Ezra’s shoulders, his fingers digging in, and used them for leverage, pounding into him until the only sounds were his own ragged breathing, the slap of skin, and Ezra’s moans filling the room.

Randy tightened his grip on Ezra’s hips, his thumbs pressing into the curve of bone, then drew his hand back and brought it down hard on Ezra’s ass. The sound cracked through the room, sharp and loud.

Ezra yelped into the sheets, his hole clenching tight around Randy’s cock.

Randy leaned over Ezra, one hand gripping his hip, the other smacking his ass again and again, alternating cheeks so the heat spread evenly across the reddened skin. Each slap landed with a loud crack, and each time Ezra jerked forward, only to push his ass back again like he couldn’t get enough of the sting.

“Count,” Randy said.

Ezra’s breath caught. “One,” he gasped as Randy’s palm connected again.

Another slap.

“Two.”

Randy’s cock drove deep with every hit, his thrusts timed so that the impact of his hips followed the sting of his hand.

“Three.”

Ezra’s voice broke, but he kept counting, even as his words turned to moans, even as spit smeared across his lips and tears streaked down his flushed cheeks.

By “seven,” Randy’s handprint was a bright, hot mark on Ezra’s skin. He rubbed it once, the pressure making Ezra moan softly, then smacked him harder than before.

“Eight.”

“Louder,” Randy ordered, his voice sharp.

Ezra’s next count was almost a shout. “Nine!”

Randy’s cock pounded into him with every number, his thrusts turning savage, mechanical, his body using Ezra’s like it belonged to him.

“Ten!”

Ezra’s voice cracked on the word, his whole body trembling from the mix of pain and pleasure.

Randy slapped him again, then again, not bothering to count now, just raining hits down between thrusts. The sound of his palm hitting Ezra’s ass overlapped with the sharp slap of his hips, a punishing rhythm that left Ezra gasping into the sheets.

Ezra’s cock throbbed, untouched, dribbling onto the bedspread as Randy fucked him harder, the spanking relentless. His moans were almost constant now, breaking apart with each smack, each deep thrust.

Randy grabbed a handful of Ezra’s hair and yanked his head up. Ezra’s eyes were glassy, his lips wet and parted, his breath coming in sharp bursts.

“You’ll thank me for every one,” Randy said, his voice low.

“Thank you, Master,” Ezra panted, and Randy slapped him again.

“Thank you, Master,” Ezra gasped again, louder, as the next hit landed.

Randy alternated between spanking and thrusting, the sting and the pounding mixing into one long assault, until Ezra’s ass glowed red and every moan sounded like begging.

When Randy finally slowed, his hand lingered on Ezra’s skin, rubbing the heat he’d created, squeezing the curve of his cheek before giving it one last sharp slap.

Ezra let out a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, his whole body loose, pliant, ready for whatever Randy decided to do next.

Randy smirked and slapped him again, this one harder, leaving a red bloom across Ezra’s pale skin. The reaction was instant: Ezra gasped, his cock twitching untouched beneath him, dripping onto the bedspread.

“Good,” Randy muttered, landing another slap, alternating sides now. Each strike made Ezra jolt, his breath coming in sharp bursts, his body tightening around Randy’s cock like it was begging for more.

Randy started working the smacks into his rhythm. A few thrusts, then his palm cracked across Ezra’s ass again, the sting mixing with the relentless pounding of his cock.

Ezra moaned loudly, his voice breaking as the pain blended with the pleasure. “Yes, Master,” he gasped, his words shaking with each impact.

Randy slapped him again, harder this time, the sharp sound echoing, and then drove in deep, making Ezra cry out.

“Louder,” Randy said, his voice calm but commanding.

Ezra moaned like he’d been shocked, the sound desperate and raw. His arms trembled from holding himself up, his face pressing into the sheets as Randy kept slapping him, spanking his ass until the pink turned darker, until the sting made Ezra groan even harder.

Randy’s handprints stood out bright and sharp as his hips kept moving, the slick smack of skin-on-skin mixing with the sharp pop of each slap. Ezra’s back arched helplessly, his ass pushing back into Randy’s thrusts, his body greedy for every hit, every inch.

“You take it well,” Randy said, grabbing a handful of Ezra’s ass cheek and squeezing before smacking him again, the sound louder than before.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra gasped, his breath ragged, “I can take it.”

Randy slapped him once more, slower this time, the heat spreading under his palm. He dug his fingers in, kneading the reddened skin before driving his cock in again, harder, deeper, making Ezra shout into the sheets.

The rhythm became a cycle—thrust, slap, thrust, slap—until Ezra was shaking beneath him, every sound he made blurring into moans and broken cries, his body completely given over to Randy’s use.

Randy kept one hand kneading Ezra’s sore, red skin, his palm pressing into the heat he’d created. Ezra’s ass was flushed, marked with the shape of Randy’s hand, and each touch made him flinch just enough to show the sting was still sharp.

Ezra’s ass felt amazing every time his palm connected with the boy’s skin.

Randy smacked him again without warning, the sound louder than before. Ezra gasped and his body clenched around Randy’s cock.

“That’s better,” Randy muttered, settling both hands on Ezra’s hips. He pulled back and thrust deep, hard enough that Ezra grunted into the sheets.

Then Randy found his rhythm again. His hips slammed forward with steady, brutal force, his cock driving into Ezra’s tightness over and over. Each thrust was punctuated by the slick sound of skin on skin, the impact sharp enough to rock Ezra forward on the bed.

Ezra’s moans started to lose shape. They weren’t words anymore, just broken, breathy sounds, punctuated by small cries whenever Randy hit just right.

Randy leaned forward, one hand pressing down between Ezra’s shoulder blades, pushing him flat into the mattress. The new angle made his ass tilt higher, his hole gripping Randy’s cock even tighter.

“That’s how I want you,” Randy said. “Down. Open.”

Ezra moaned into the sheets, his hands trying to find purchase in futility, his body completely loose except for the squeeze of his ass around Randy.

Randy pulled back almost all the way out, then slammed forward with all his weight. The bed creaked, Ezra gasped, and Randy’s hand came down on his ass again, harder than before.

The slap echoed, and Ezra cried out, his hole gripping Randy’s cock like a vice.

“You like that?” Randy asked, his tone calm even as his hips kept moving.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra managed, his voice breaking.

Randy slapped him again, this one even harder, leaving another red handprint layered over the last. He rubbed the spot with his thumb, then hit the other cheek for balance.

The spanking fell into rhythm again, each slap syncing with the thrusts until Ezra was gasping louder, his voice raw and wrecked.

“Say it again,” Randy demanded.

“I like it,” Ezra moaned, almost sobbing.

Randy grabbed his hair and yanked his head up, forcing Ezra to arch his back. “What do you like?”

“The spanking,” Ezra gasped, his voice desperate. “Getting fucked. All of it.”

Randy yanked harder, pulling Ezra’s head all the way back until their eyes met. Then he slammed forward, his cock burying deep, his hand coming down one more time in a stinging slap that made Ezra cry out.

“Good,” Randy said, and kept fucking him like that, relentless, his cock sliding in and out of Ezra’s raw, aching body, every thrust driving him deeper into submission.

Randy shifted his weight, hips still moving in hard, even strokes, and reached between Ezra’s legs. His fingers found Ezra’s balls and wrapped around them in one solid grip, tugging them back toward him.

Ezra gasped, his voice breaking into a strangled moan as his back arched. The sudden pressure froze him in place, his body tight, unsure if it should flinch or lean into the hold.

Randy didn’t ease up. He kept that grip, not crushing, but unyielding. The feel of Ezra’s balls in his palm was grounding, a reminder that even though this was the end, he was still the one in charge here, still the one deciding how Ezra would take it.

Ezra’s breath hitched again when Randy gave another slow, deliberate pull. His cock throbbed, leaking against his stomach, the drip of precum leaving a spreading stain on the sheets.

Randy didn’t bother talking—he didn’t need to. The hold said enough. It said he was still running the scene, still calling the shots, and that Ezra’s body was his to direct until he was finished.

He started thrusting harder again, his hips snapping forward, each movement sharp and deep. His grip on Ezra’s balls made every stroke heavier, the pressure doubling the force of the fuck. Ezra moaned louder, almost sobbing, his hands clutching the bedding like he needed something to hold onto.

Randy’s fingers flexed around the weight of him, not letting go, tugging slightly every few thrusts. Ezra gasped each time, the sound high and ragged, his whole body reacting to the mix of ache and pleasure, his hole clenching tighter around Randy’s cock.

Randy stayed quiet, just breathing harder, focused on the rhythm of it—the relentless drive of his hips, the way Ezra shuddered each time his balls were tugged, the way control sat heavy in his hand. He didn’t have to say a thing. Ezra already knew exactly who was in charge.

Randy’s grip didn’t falter. His hand stayed locked around Ezra’s balls, holding them tight in his palm as his hips drove forward with heavy, relentless strokes. Each thrust sank him all the way in, then pulled out just enough to drive back in again, the pace steady and punishing.

Ezra’s cries weren’t words anymore, just broken sounds spilling out of him as his face pressed into the sheets. His arms hung limp, his body jerking with every thrust.

Randy tugged harder, dragging Ezra back by the balls while fucking him deep. The pull made Ezra gasp and clench tight, his body reacting instinctively, gripping Randy’s cock as if it could hold him there.

Randy’s breathing shifted. Each inhale came shorter, each exhale rougher. His thrusts lost their measured rhythm and turned urgent. He squeezed Ezra’s balls harder, using the grip for leverage, pulling him into every thrust, showing him who was in control until the very end.

Ezra whimpered, his cock jerking untouched against his stomach, precum smearing the sheets beneath him. Randy held him firm, his cock hammering deep, his body starting to tighten with the inevitable finish.

The air was thick with the wet sounds of their bodies colliding and Randy’s breathing grew harsher. He gave one final, brutal pull on Ezra’s balls and slammed forward, burying himself completely.

His body tensed, and the release hit him. He groaned low, his cock throbbing inside Ezra as he came, pumping him full with each sharp pulse. Randy kept his grip tight, holding Ezra in place while his body jerked through every spasm, his hips pressing hard against him until there was nothing left to give.

Only then did his fingers loosen. He stayed inside Ezra for a moment longer, feeling the last tremors fade before finally letting his hand fall from Ezra’s balls, his cock still deep inside as Ezra let out one more soft, spent moan into the sheets.

Randy finally pulled out, slow and deliberate, his cock slick and wet from the load he’d just emptied into Ezra. A smear of cum followed, glistening between Ezra’s cheeks before sliding down to his thighs.

Ezra stayed where he was, his arms limp, his face pressed into the sheets, chest rising and falling hard. He looked wrecked — flushed, sweaty, and marked from Randy’s hands and mouth.

Randy stood there for a beat, breathing, his hand resting briefly on Ezra’s lower back. Then he grabbed a fistful of Ezra’s hair, not yanking this time, just making him lift his head enough to meet his eyes.

“Open,” Randy said.

Ezra obeyed instantly.

Randy pushed his softening cock against Ezra’s lips. “Clean it,” he muttered.

Ezra’s tongue darted out, tasting the mix of sweat and cum, before pulling Randy’s cock fully into his mouth. He sucked like there was nothing else he could do, working his tongue over every inch, licking him clean.

Randy watched him, satisfied, letting Ezra keep going even after he was already spotless.

“That’s the last time you’ll taste my cum,” Randy said flatly.

Ezra moaned around him, swallowing greedily like he was trying to prove him wrong, sucking harder, taking Randy all the way down again. Randy had to push his head back eventually.

“Enough,” he said, wiping a bit of spit from Ezra’s lip with his thumb.

He undid Ezra’s restraints and took a look at the mess of a man he’d created.

Perfection. But not the one.

He stepped back, pulling his jeans off the floor and sliding them on casually. Ezra stayed on his knees, breathing hard, still half-hard himself, like he didn’t know if the scene was over.

Randy grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, his voice calm again. “I still wouldn’t mind some of that gym advice you offered,” he said as he buttoned his jeans.

Ezra looked up, eyes glassy. “Anything,” he said. “I’ll do anything if it gives me another chance at your cock.”

Randy smirked at that, picking his boots up.

“Maybe,” he said. “If I’m ever bored enough.”

He left Ezra kneeling there, wrecked and silent, and stepped out into the cooler air of the hallway, already thinking about the boy he’d seen on those walks across campus, and what might come next.