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“Welcome home Da–mmmmhhh,” Lars melts into a kiss. “Hi Bretty. You taste like chocolate. I missed you so much today.”
“Me too. Been thinking of you all day Lars.”
“Have you?” he asks, batting his lashes. “You missed me too?”
Brett answered by pressing more fierce kisses to Lars’ mouth, plundering him, and leaving him breathless. Brett’s hands soon moved from Lars’ waist to his front and begin to unbutton his pants.
“Oh Daddy’s in a mood isn’t h-mmmphh – oh I love it when you use your tongue~ ah!”
Brett spun Lars around and bent him over the counter top. No time was wasted pulling down his pants until his cock spilled out and his pussy was bare. “Brett!” he cried. 
Brett fumbled in a drawer for lube, but couldn’t find a condom. Fuck it. No time. He slapped a little on, and grabbed tight onto Lars’ hips. “You’re going to let me in right?”
Lars didn’t even get the ‘s’ out in ‘yes’. Brett pushed into his lover in one swift move, making the boy cry out and clamp down tight around him. It gave Brett veritgo – god he loved it when Lars pulled him in! 

“Yeah that’s it, oh god yeah that’s it. Fuck I’ve been wanting your pussy all day, just wanted to see you take me, boy,” Bretty growled. “No – down. Stay down. No touching. Arms on the counter. That’s it.“
Lars obeyed. His body moved independently from his brain. When the angle changed, Brett slid in even deeper. Brett moaned as his pulasting cock was fully enveloped and Lars whimpered as Daddy relentlessly took his ass.. Strong hands cupped Lars’ pecs and squeezed. Lars began to moan as loud as Brett when the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his sensitive nipples. 

Then, when it couldn’t get any better, Brett’s paw-sized hands sought Lars’ cock and began to stroke. All of Lars’ bones just turned to wax. His head drooped. “Oh Daddy! Oh god..Daddy – just- ah fuck feels so good!”
“Not as good as you feel to me,” Brett cooed. “That’s it. Push back on me. Damn you are such a good slut for me. Daddy likes his good slut.”
:I’m your slut Daddy, forever Daddy – my pussy loves you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Brett snickered. He wrapped his arms around his boy’s thin waist. “It’s coming…it’s coming!-…aaaahh, there – there it is! Fuck!” Brett slammed into Lars like a freight train chugging with a hot engine. He bit his lip so hard it drew blood, and exploded into his boy’s body. Lars knew to let Daddy come first, and he was not far behind. When fingers teased his cockhead his knees trembled and cum gushed from his cock. 
“Daddy!” he squeaked. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” Lars’ feet cramped from how tight he was curling his toes. “Ohhh Daddy~”

And then it was over. They stilled, panting, connected. The scent of pheromones and sex and cum floated around them. Brett took a moment to enjoy feeling human again and ran his hands over Lars’ body, appreciating him. 
“Now that’s how Daddy likes to be welcomed home.”
“Mmnn,” Lars responded, pressing his forehead to the countertop, feeling like he was only standing because Brett was holding him up. “The feeling is mutual.”

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Text is fictional. Full video here! I love it when Tumblr users source their shit.

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“How are you doing?” Daniel asks gently. “Great! I’m almost done peeling these carrots. Everything else is measured out and ready.” I nearly take my finger off when I feel a slight touch on my ass. 
“Looks great. Can’t wait to taste this cake you’re making. Going to be delicious.”
“If I don’t forget an ingredient. Or mix up the sugar and salt. Or burn it.  Or burn the house down.” Daniel chuckles, then kisses my cheek. “You’ll be fine. I look forward to dessert.” He gives me another ass pat and then strolls back into the living room where the game has returned to the television.

I watch him go. His mildly possessive touches have left me feeling warm and smiley. For the first time in my life, I’m really, truly content. I had been so unhappy in previous relationships and I never knew why. Daniel understood though, more than I ever could. I just liked to please a man, make his meals, fold his socks, be there when he needed to rut… it was a bit simple, if not a bit of an outdated mentality, but it was more rewarding than any office job I ever could hold. Spending a Sunday afternoon inside, making a nice carrot cake for after Sunday’s dinner was so fulfilling. Plus, I could put the cake pieces in Daniel’s lunchboxes for the week and he would love that.

The best thing though was that Daniel really appreciated me. His supportive comments were so natural, so casual, as if this is just how it was supposed to me. Me, him – us – in our effortless roles. Most alphas I have met are rather aggressive bastards. Daniel  is unbelievably chill. I’m sure if some man tried to take ownership of me in a club, a beatdown would occur, but it would take a lot to provoke him into such a state. No, Daniel was a laid back-guy. He was just happy to appreciate the simple things in life – a cute boyfriend, a football game on the screen, craft beer – a nice middle class life. Plus, home-cooked food, made with love.

I wondered how he would feel if I started baking wearing only an apron.

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Text is fictional.

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torontopup:

sir2u-boy:

I know you’re a fag, I know I shouldn’t like it so much, but damn, you give the best head I’ve ever had, and this tight little hole back here is making me think that if you fuck half as good as you suck, I’m gonna be moving you in. 

www.recon.com/torontoslave

Finally! I thought you couldn’t be any thicker! I mean, you think I give good head just because I’m a mindless faggot that goes totally blank at the sight of an unsucked cock – and yeah, that part’s true – but I don’t suck dick like this for anyone. I really like your cock, but there’s no way for me to tell you this without you thinking it’s a blanket statement. Your cock gets harder than any other penis I’ve played with, and it’s so easy for me to deepthroat it and really put my tongue to work. Plus, you grow so much it’s easy to keep my hand and my lips busy. It makes me feel so slutty, so powerful, to go all out for you. You have a dick that’s so easy to worship, that I will never get tired of it. And don’t even get me started on your balls.

On top of that, you’re considerate. Some alphas are pretty rude, but us fags are used to that. They don’t want to get too close to ‘gayness’. You though, you drive me crazy gently petting my hole like that. I always have to suck you shirtless or else I’d just sweat right through it. Every touch makes me tremble, and it makes my cock throb so hard. My pants are always soaked when I’m done servicing you.

Once you fuck me, I know you’re going to have difficulty wanting me to even leave even to do errands. It just won’t seem right that I’ll be sleeping elsewhere from then on. Once you fuck me, you’ll know that no one can care for your dick or your sexual needs like I can. Every other boy will be a replacement for me. Every faggot is up for adoption – don’t forget that. I want to come home to you too.

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Text is fictional. Good boy.

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Joseph came home from his job as a broker to find discipline needing to be issued. Blake had greeted him kneeling at the door, offering up the broken pieces of a nice Pyrex ceramic baking dish. Joseph hated to see the shame on his face. He gave Blake a kiss hello, then instructed him to remove his pants and bend over his knee as he sat down on the sofa. Blake was older than Joseph, but he absolutely worshiped Joseph as the more alpha male of the household. He did exactly as he told, eager to prove he was strong enough to handle it. Blake had been working on hard on being a stoic boy during spankings. He was usually so embarrassed by how silly he sounded whining and squeaking with every swat, kicking his legs like a kid learning how to swim.

Blake put one hand behind his back as a symbol of submission, but Joseph interpreted it another way. He grasped his boy’s hand. Blake was surprised to feel his Master’s touch, but seized it up with a big squeeze back. Even though Blake couldn’t see it, Joseph smiled.

“Twenty,” Joseph said gently. He felt his boy sigh under him.
“I’ll take them.”
“I know.” Joseph raised an open hand and delivered twenty, evenly spaced and relentless swats to his boy’s soft rump. What a nice way to unwind from work.

By 10, Blake was gripping Joseph’s hand hard; by 12 he was tensing and quivering with every swat, punctuated by tiny yelps. By 17, he was sucking air through his teeth and he was kicking a little. By 20, he was staring at the floor through teary eyes and trying so hard to fight the urge to squirm away.

“There we go,” Joseph said, “All done. You took your punishment well, boy.” He pulled Blake up. “Your bottom is a nice shade of red. Looks fitting on you.”
Blake sniffled and raised his arms, Joseph pulled his boy towards him, let him wrap those arms around his neck. It turned Joseph on immensely feeling that hot skin pressed upon his thighs through the thin fabric of his slacks. Now wasn’t the time for sex though. Joseph embraced his boy and rocked him, nuzzling him, until most of the discomfort had ebbed away.

“I’m sorry I broke your baking dish,” Blake said, his eyelashes still damp.
Joseph kissed him on the lips. “It’s alright. It was an accident, and it’s replaceable.”
Blake look relieved. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I was rushing to put the dishes away when they were still a bit wet.”
“Haste makes waste.” Joseph said.
Blake thought about it, then nodded, impressed by Joseph’s wisdom. “That’s a good lesson Sir. If…if I’m forgiven, may I take off your shoes, kiss your feet perhaps?”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “How about you bring me my cotton pants and a loose T-shirt, and you can undress all of me and kiss my feet?”

Blake’s face lit up. “I’d love to Sir. Permission to fetch those items?”
“Permission given.”
Joseph watched him bounce off, admiring his glowing ass. He was really such a good boy. He wondered how he got so lucky as to find him. Joseph might be an underling at the office, but at home he lived like a King. He imagined some real Kings would probably be jealous.

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Text is fictional.

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“Check this out. My friend did a filter thing on it. Cool pic huh?”
“Jesus, Sam, ya fat bastard, look at ya! You’re a stud!”
I laughed. “Alpha male, I tell ya. It’s one of my favorite shots. Just me and my boys.”
“Why is the dog in front?”
“Well, he’s better trained and better bred. He’s got papers. The slave back there I just took in – he’s a Latin mutt. Last Master turned him in due to overcrowding. Badly trained and growly. I put him in his place in those first three days I’ll tell you what,” I laughed again. “You see how resigned he looks?”
“Ya?”
“Cause he knows he’s under the dog.”
“Aaaahhh.”
“It’ll be good for him. Already showing some improvement already. He’s food fixated, so if you promise him food, he’ll do almost anything. Yep, he’s a good boy. Love him already.”

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Text is fictional.

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blissfuldominance:

This is what happens when you act like a snot. As soon as we get home, we go to the bedroom and eliminate that type of behavior. 

“If you want me to take you to Joel’s All Male Christmas Party at the end of the year, you better adjust your attitude boy. I know you’re looking forward to it. This spanking is a warning to change your snotty attitude, or you’re going to stay home and clean while I’m out having fun and drinking and partying.”
“Ow! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!”
The spanking stops.
“Oh thank god.”
Then it started up again.
“Ack! What the heck?!”
“I gotta do the other cheek now.”

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“I…um, I – ” Wait. Why am I panicking? Why is everything shriveled up in fear that I’ve been caught? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I’ve been fantasizing about for so long? This what I imagined, on dark lonely nights, with my cock in my hand. I took so many days to think about the guilt I felt for wanting to be used without any consent, while others suffer legitimately at the hands of rapists. In the end, I couldn’t excuse it or deny wanting to be treating like a lesser being. I want him to shove it inside of me. I want him to breach me. I want it to be tight, and I want it to hurt a little. I want it to feel hot, and stretched, and to feel as if I have no choice but to submit to him. Or any man. I want them all. I want them to give me orders. I want them to take me and objectify me. Haven’t I always wanted to be a whore? Haven’t I always wanted the attention, the loss of control, the borderline abuse? Is it what I really want, or what I think I want. What will happen if I say yes? Will I get HIV? Will I bleed? Will there be more and more men? What if I say no, will they take me anyway? God, why do I want that so badly? Why is it all so thrilling?

It’s not like I’m going to stop staring at their dicks after this. I love watching water pour off of their cocks, watching them jiggle and bounce between their legs as they wash. I love the sight of a naked man. What should I tell them, that if they just show me their penises, they can control me like a robot? Cause they could. I want them so badly.

In the end, the words don’t won’t come out. My throat is tight, my heart racing too hard. He’s kissing my shoulder now, each burning like a brand as they trail up my neck. I can hear my breathing, which seems loud and obvious, even above the noise of the shower. I swallow. Hard. I’m aware my cock is comically erect, jutting forward and up, and slightly to the left. I reach behind me with both hands for Giovanni’s thighs. I brush my fingers against it, then up, blindly navigating. I reach behind and pull him forward, against me. He makes a chuff of surprise. I can hear it, since he’s so close to my ear.
“Oh you do want it huh?” he says, sounding pleased. He pushes his soft member between my cheeks.
I whimper and push back against him. It’s not so much of a whimper of need, but one of surrender. Of helplessness, that I cannot control or stop myself from encouraging him to fuck him. My slight actions invigorate him and he pushes back again.

“Yeah whore, just what I thought. Well you’re going to get what you wanted.”
I cry out as he shoves me against the wall and twists my arm back, pinning it against my spine. The cold tile makes my nipples peak.
“You should have just asked.” He cups my ass then drags his fingers down the cleft. He brushes over my hole and it twitches. This seems to amuse him and he chuckles. “So needy…” he pushes one inside. My body clenches, but it is in play. He works his digit in and out of me, and it feels huge and invasive. A second finger joins, and then a third, and I’m already gasping and hissing and trying to relax.
“You’re so very very tight…this is going to be so much fun,” he murmurs.
Then, they’re gone. I already feel the loss. The fullness. I miss it. He releases my arm but tells me to stay. I do. I hear something open and click shut. I can’t tell what he’s using but I hope it won’t burn.

Then, I feel his strong hand against the back of my neck and something blunt pushing between my legs. I want to be your whore. I remind myself, and my muscles relax. He breaches and the entire shaft of his long cock slams inside of me. In one motion, he is in me to the hilt. I squeeze my eyes tight and tears form in the corners. It does hurt, but it so marvelous, the pain! The sweet, delicious hot blooming pain mixing with the pleasure knotting in my gut! Pre-cum drips out of my cock and smears against the wall. He’s panting just from that and nuzzling my shoulder.
“I like that you’re fighting me a little…but you already know you’ve lost ‘aven’t you?”
I nod. But I feel like a winner, because he’s making my fantasy come true. No condom. No consent. I am his.
He keeps his hand on the back of my neck, one hand on my hip, and begins to thrust. He’s steady at first, as if exploring his new toy, testing angles and positions. I moan and sob and find myself pushing back every time he withdraws.
“Stay still, whore,” he says. I am horrified to find myself looking around, hoping for others to be watching, but we’re sadly alone. There is still time for men to come in. I hope. I feel disgusting, and I love it.

I am open to him now and he realizes this, fucking me in sets of steady thrusts. He will go for a while, then lose his rhythm, pause, adjust, and start over. The hand on my hip reaches around, ignoring my cock, and instead pulls at my balls, pinching them and making me squirm.
“You horny bastard,” he chuckles, as I drool seed onto his wrist. I’m surprised how chatty he is, when I haven’t said a damn thing.

He turns off the water, and the sounds of water dripping and our copulation echo in the shower room. I can hear myself too, as if I am out of body and listening from the locker room, crying out, moaning, groaning, making all sorts of embarrassing beastly noises as he torments my prostate and all my nerves.
“Yeah, yeah yeah!” he exclaims as his orgasm looms near, only in his English dialect it comes out as “Yeh yeh yeh”. He slams so hard in me that I choke on my own spit. I clamber on the wall for grip, my pruned fingertips sticking like lizard toes to the wet tile.
He’s taking me so hard, that I have nearly gone numb. I gurgle, and then gasp as his semen floods inside of me. It’s like lava pouring out of his tap, gallons of it it seems, filling the entirety of my bowel. I imagine his balls to be enormous and heavy and I shudder to think he’s put all of its content in me. “Oh god,” I sob.
He doesn’t seem to have realized I’ve spoken. He’s resting his forehead against the back of my neck, breathing low and slow. Both his hands are on my waist, and he’s giving me slow thrusts to milk the last drops out of his cock. Suddenly he hisses and pulls out. “Fuck, sensitivity,” he grumbles. The plug is gone and his seeds pours out. I hate that. I wish he would stick his thumb back up and plug me. To my relief, he reads my mind and pushes his batter back inside of me with his fingers.
“Oh very, very nice, you look so beautiful with my cum all over your asshole.” He pets me there and I tremble, and ejaculate all over the floor with a cry.
“Woah!” he says, stepping back. He laughs. “You even cum like a dirty whore, just losing it all over the place when a man touches you on your cunt.”
My chest is heaving like I’ve run a kilometer. My head is spinning, and the room is turning in circles. I feel like I’ve been put through the wash cycle. It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever be horny again, then-

Then I hear the other voice.
“What’s all this then?”
“Oh, I just had him, that’s all. He kept staring at my cock, so I just gave the whore what he wanted.”
“Did you now?”
“Aye I did. He loved it too. Still cant move,” he snickers.
“Well now that’s mighty interesting. He’s stared at my cock plenty.”
“Why don’t you have a go at him then? He’s plenty sticky inside, but I don’t got no diseases or what not.”
“Oh you warmed him for now? How nice.” The man’s voice is deep. He sounds huge. I don’t dare to look, but I just close my eyes, and hope, and pray… and then there’s a hand on my hip.

I shouldn’t appear too eager, but I am trembling in anticipation and he can sense it. When he breaches me, he isn’t delicate, and I melt against him so we can move together. He likes this and puts an arm around my waist, I reach back behind him.. It’s like being taken by a bear. My balls are empty and my cock bounces at half mast in front of me. They have reduced me to a sexual being for their entertainment, and I never want it to stop. I will always be a whore.

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Text is fictional. The original poster’s Tumblr has been deleted so if anyone knows what movie this is from, lemme know. A reader has informed that this is from the short film Homophobia. It doesn’t end like this story, trust me.

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Look-outs were the worst. It was you, alone, in this old blue car parked a crumbling curb in some shitty neighborhood. Ace would go inside and negotiate deals on territory so his dealers didn’t get shanked for being on the wrong corners. Ace’s business was growing; he recently inherited a bunch of territory in a compromise deal. Cabrini liked that. It meant more money for him and for his expensive toys. Electronic toys. Toys with motors. Toys that made things explode. Yet sometimes he felt a bit like Ace’s dumb watchdog, sitting out here in the car while Ace went off and did all this shady bullshit. He smoked his cigarillo and gazed out across the empty suburban street at the ramshackle houses tucked behind huge trees. With a cul-de-sac behind him, he only had to watch in one direction.

It was 2 pm on a Tuesday. There was no one here. He sighed and tapped his ashes on the ground. Boring boring boring. Soon they would hit the forty minute mark. At least Cabrini had one thing going for him. Ace had left his faggot in the car too. He didn’t know much about him, just that he was some drug runner from Ace’s original outfit that had fucked up in some way. Ace had found much better use for him as a faggot, and the boy seemed quite content with that. Cabrini had asked him about that once and he shrugged and said, “Well I still have all my teeth.”

That he did. Cabrini knew this for sure because he liked to help himself to Ace’s faggot once in a while. Ace never explicitly said he couldn’t, but he would have been an idiot to not know this was going on. Besides, it wasn’t like Cabrini was raping him. Left alone with a hot guy and an ignored cock, a faggot will always eventually go for the meat. 

Cabrini heaved a sigh of relief as the faggot decided he was done waiting. He buried his head in Cabrini’s lap, and when he wasn’t pushed away, extracted Cabrini’s cock from his pants. He got his lips around his cut dick and his hands around his balls, making content noises as he sucked and licked.

Cabrini smoked, occasionally groaning or hissing, as the faggot coaxed to his cock to its full erect state with his talented tongue. Getting a blowjob at 2 pm on a Tuesday was wonderful. Cabrini loved the way the faggot ran the textured surface of his tongue over the slit of his glans as he rolled Cabrini’s testicles in his fingers. Cabrini fantasized about having a big workshop, leaving it after a long day of tinkering with his toys, and coming inside for a round of good sex with a boy like this. He dreamed of being rich and powerful enough to have a faggot or a sub of his own to follow him around everywhere.

Cabrini was deciding that Ace could take as long as he wanted in there when he heard a car. He watched it drive down the street toward them. Cabrini sat up and tensed. He put a protective hand on the faggot’s neck, not wanting him to stop even for this, as he craned his neck to see. The vehicle parked in the driveway of the house across the street from him. He saw one head. He held his breath. An old lady got out. Cabrini exhaled in relief and watched her haul a grocery bag stuffed with yarn up to the house. He sent an update via text message to Ace’s phone.
Ace replied: “Cool. Almost done here.”
“We’re sitting ducks. We need to move.” Cabrini wrote back. He wasn’t expecting a response and he didn’t get one. Ace would take all the time he needed to complete the deal. If it was going to go sour, it would have happened already. Cabrini’s text was a bluff. If he would have said: “Take your time”, then Ace would have known he was playing with his faggot. Cabrini didn’t want Ace wrapping up business with his thoughts of his second-hand-man playing with his pet out in the car, and in theory, not doing his job, although he was.

“That’s a good boy,” Cabrini moaned under his breath. “Suck it you faggot. Good boy. Nhhg …” Cabrini held out for as long as he could, but that boy had talent and the orgasm peaked hard and sudden. He came in a rush, and bucked up into the faggot’s mouth to empty his seed down his throat. The young man eagerly lapped it up; not a drop hit Cabrini’s pants or the seat cushions. He massaged Cabrini’s balls until they hitched again and the rest poured out. “Fuck you are good at that,” he crooned.

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as the faggot cleaned him up and tucked him back into his pants. The young man then rested his head on top of Cabrini’s crotch and began to fall asleep. Cabrini gave him a few pats on the head and chewed on the cigarillo butt.

Not two minutes later, Ace came out, swaggering. The car sank down a little as he got in.
“Success?” Cabrini grunted.
“Damn straight man! Come on, let’s go to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. I’m goddamn hungry and we gotta lotta planning to do. I got so many corners now, I don’t have enough people to staff em! We gotta hire, Cab, you think I should run an ad on Craigslist?” He threw his head back and laughed.
Cabrini chuckled and shook his head. “Business will be good?”
“Business will be ah-fucking-amazing soon enough. You will be able to buy that drone you keep harpin about.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Aww, did Georgy fall asleep on you?”
“Yeah he’s out cold. Guess he got bored.”
Ace turned the car on and set it going down the street. “Yeah he never did have a lot of patience. He better get his rest though, he’s gonna be busy tonight. Fucker can sleep under the table at Roscoe’s for all I care as long as he can stay up all night pleasing me.”
Cabrini glanced down at the faggot. He felt a moment of panic when he still saw a fleck of his cum on the boy’s lips. He brushed it away when Ace’s eyes were on the road. Food would be good. It would surely get the taste of cock off his breath. Ace put the cigarillo stub away in a small metal case he carried on his keychain. Life was good.

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Text is fictional.

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My frat brother woke me up at two in the morning.

“Max, wake up! Wake up. Come on, it’s an emergency.”
I flailed. “Wh- what? What’s going on?”
“You need to come downstairs right now. It’s your friend, Gordy.”
“Gordy…?” I asked. “What is he doing here?” He lives two hours away.“
"Oh you’ll see.” I squinted in the light coming in from the hallway. Steve was pale as a sheet.
“Shit, what happened?” I asked, throwing off the sheets. I was glad I decided to wear boxers to bed that night.
“You’re gonna puke,” was all Steve said. I bolted down the hallway and ran down the stairs. When I saw Gordy standing in the entrance way, I gasped. He was covered in blood; one eye was starting to swell shut and his nose was crooked.
“Oh my god,” I said. “Gordy…Gordy what happened sweetheart?”
When Gordy saw me, he began to cry. “Max!”
“Shit.” I walked up to him and embraced him a solid hug, letting him sob on me, not caring about his blood getting on me.  Steve was hanging back on the stairs, with a couple other bros who were curious about the fuss.
“Gordy who did this to you?” I asked through clenched teeth. I felt rage and bile rise in my throat.
His voice kept hitching from his fit and it was hard for him to talk clearly. “My – my- my dad, he be-be-eat me up after catching me kissing another guy.”
“Oh Gordy,” I sighed, rocking him. Gordy had been out to me for years. I’d always been somewhat worried how his father would take it when he found out, and I was furious that my premonition was right. I was seeing spots in front of my eyes from how angry I was.
“Is the other boy alright?”
“Yes.”
Did you drive all the way here…?” I asked.
“Yes,” he hiccuped. “I stole my dad’s car. Mine died a while ago.”
“Good god. Ok, let’s get you to the hospital, Gordy.”
“No,” he whimpered.
“You’re hurt and…jesus, I think your finger is jammed or broken or something.”
Gordy glanced at it, then looked up at me. “No, I want to go to sleep with you. Don’t leave me alone please.”
“Shh shh. I’m not,” I whispered. “We’re going to the hospital, then you can come back here with me.”
Steve piped up. “It’s totally cool if he stays here.”
“Thanks man.”

I got my keys and my wallet and my flip flops. Steve gave me his shirt. I walked Gordy to his dad’s car and put him in the passenger seat. There was blood all over the place, but I didn’t even care.

The emergency staff were horrified to hear what happened. They called the police and we filed a report. I mentioned how the car was “borrowed” and we’d be returning it in the morning so we could get Gordy’s things from the house. I asked the police officer not to his arrest his father until that was settled, and the Detective graciously said she’d work with us. The doctors set Gordy’s nose, braced his finger, and cleaned up the blood. We slept together in bed that night, him pressed against me, my arms around his trembling form. It took a while for the white anger to fade enough so I could sleep.

The next day, after breakfast, we drove back to Fishers to return the car. Steve drove my truck down behind us, it’s bed full of empty boxes we scrounged up under a tarp. The plan was for us to all carpool back. Gordy was quiet most of the trip. His bruises had darkened over night and he looked terrible. I held his hand when he seemed to need it most. Gordy and I had grown up together, best friends. He was a year younger than I was. I went off to university and he stayed local to earn money as his family was not well off. I hadn’t expected for us to see each-other again like this though, and I was not happy.

When we pulled up to his father’s house. I told Gordy to wait in the car. I waited until Steve pulled up, then I got out and walked over to tell him the same thing. I then went into the trunk and got the shotgun out of the back.

Steve saw it first, and yelled at me to put it away, but I told him to sit his ass down. Gordy was staring at me with wide eyes from his dad’s car.

I knocked politely on the door, and waited until his father answered.
“Oh it’s you, you faggot piece of shit that corrupted my son. What do you want with that? Gonna beat me up with it? I bet you don’t even know what to do with it. Here’s a hint. You don’t stick your dick in the hole.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I cocked the trigger and shot him in the leg. Behind me, Steve screamed. Gordy’s father collapsed to the floor, baying like a wounded dog. The bullet had lodged right above his kneecap. I kicked him aside, then turned around. “Alright, Steve, bring the boxes in. Get Gordy. Pack his stuff and any photo albums he wants to keep.”

Gordy got out of the car and threw up. He looked better afterwards. I dragged his father in to the living room and sat there with my gun trained on him while Steve and Gordy wordlessly packed up his belongings. His father was still making a terrible amount of noises, crying and cussing at me. Adrenaline and hatred suppressed any guilt or fear I felt. No one hurt my Gordy. Absolutely not, and especially not for kissing a boy. Not on God’s green earth. I had to resist shooting him again, and settled to just telling him to “shut the fuck up, pussy”.

I waited patiently, singing folk songs under my breath as the boys packed. Boxes came down first, then full laundry baskets, followed by bags. Gordy rescued his favorite mug from the kitchen, and a picture of his deceased mother from the living room only mere feet from where his father had been rendered immobile. They raided the coat closet and the basement, and within an hour, Gordy’s presence had been erased from the house. I whistled happily as it all went along.

Steve called my name.
“Yeah?”
He drank from a water bottle he found in the fridge. “We’re ready.”
“That’s everything? Bathroom, closets, cabinets, etc?”
He nodded. “Gordy is fitting the last of it in the truck. It’s gonna be a tight fit. Good thing you got a truck. Boy has a lot of stuff.”
I chuckled. “Yeah I figured. Not a lot of furniture though right?”
“Nah, just a lamp he liked.”

“Alright. Bring me his dad’s car keys would ya?”
Steve did. He threw them to me, and I caught them with one hand. I looked down at Gordy’s father, who was staring at me with utter hatred from a fetal position. I threw the keys onto his ground. “Here’s your car back. Sorry it’s got some blood in it, but that’s your fault. Listen to me. You ever come near Gordy again, I will aim for your head. Got it?”
His father spit at me.
I cocked the gun and shot him in the ass. The howls began again. “You know, Mr. Miller, being gay really isn’t all that bad. Having a little soreness in the ass is actually pretty nice.” With that, I collected the shell casings and left the house.

Once back by my truck, I called the police department back home. “Detective Mitchell? This is Max Tucker. Yeah it’s about Gordy. You can arrest his father now, but you’re gonna have to do it from a hospital.” I then hung up and called 911. I didn’t stay on the line like they asked.

By the time the ambulance arrived, we were gone. Three of us, crammed into the cab of my truck, the empty shotgun in the back. No one said a word, but Gordy cried on me the whole way home. It was a long drive back to the university, and my entire body ached from the tension and adrenaline mixing with testosterone in my veins. I drank my water and kept silent too, thinking about my actions. I did not regret what I had done to his father. I vowed to never again let Gordy stray far by my side, and that was a vow I kept.

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Text is fictional. The model is Evan Peters. This story in no way intends to depict Evan Peters or make projections on his personality or sexuality.