Tag: smoking

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“That was some good sex,” Amal says, exhaling.
“I’m surprised you can move,” I say, my voice tinged with admiration.
“I’m not moving for a while. Just going to enjoy this afterglow.”
“And you thought sex with a man wasn’t going to be as good as with a woman.”
Amal turns his head at me. “It wasn’t that. I was scared it was going to be better.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And was it?”
“Yep,” he sighs, “Way better. The way I felt pounding your ass, man…being able to just let go. Just…fuck.” Amal takes another drag.
“Sorry,” I reply, smiling.
“No you’re not.”
“Absolutely not. When can we do it again?”
Amal chuckles. “When we can both move again.”
“Mmn. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll ride you,” I offer.
“Jesus christ, you’re going to make me into a chain smoker.”
That makes me laugh. I never thought corrupting a man could be so fun. Life could be so unexpectedly wonderful sometimes.

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Text is fictional. This is Ranveer Singh.

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“August,” Quincy says with a sigh, “You’re smoking again. You’re a vocalist. You can’t smoke.”
“Oh shut it, Quince, it makes me feel better.”
“Christ,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hip. “You’re pathetic. And when you houseboy tells you you’re pathetic, you have a problem that tequila can’t fix.”
August opens an eye and watches his pierced and tattooed houseboy water his houseplants in turquoise boyshorts with the words ‘power bottom’ emblazoned on each butt-cheek.
“Don’t you think about putting your cig out in my plants,” warns Quincy. “Let me go get you an ashtray, you filthy boy.”
August grunts and rolls his eyes. 

A moment later, Quincy returns with an ashtray. August snubs it down and digs in his pack for another one.
“You know, I think I know how to fix this little problem.”
“What?” August eyes him. “It’s not a little problem and it can’t be fixed. We broke up. Let me get over it.”
Quincy rolls his eyes hard and vocalizes in exasperation. “No. I am not letting you break up your band over this bullshit. I am going to fix this.”

August lifts his head. “What? Where are you going? Quincy! Where are you going you little bitch?”
Quincy disappears back into the living room, then strolls back out onto the porch with a phone pressed to his ear. “Oh hi Franz, this is Quince, I’m on August’s phone.”
August jumps to his feet. “Hey! Is that my phone? Get off my phone!”
Quincy shoves an astonished August back into the chair.
“Sorry to bother you dear,” Quincy continues, sweet as treacle, “But I am so sick of this moping that I’m going to say what August can’t fucking say cause he’s a prick. First of all, he still loves you-“
“Quincy, goddammit, hang up!” August hisses through clenched teeth, eyes blazing.
“-and he can’t stop thinking about you. He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping – and he’s fucking smoking. – I know! I told him not to do that, but he won’t listen so maybe you will. You two are not breaking up your band over this. The Gilded Cranes is on fire right now. It’s all you ever – no YOU shut up, I’m not done.”
“Quincy I swear to god I’m going to spank you so hard,” August fumes.

The houseboy ignores him and waltzes back into the living room. “You two are NOT fucking up the lives of everyone else in the band that wants success so bad. You are not fucking over your manager, or your tour manager, or your merch girl who rely on you for work, nor ALL OF YOUR FANS over this PEDANTIC love spat you have. Listen, August will never tell you this but he’s totally scared of commitment.”
August groans loudly.
“His parents had a nasty divorce when he was growing up and so he’s terrified. He loves you so fucking much and wants you to be out with him, but he just can’t tell you that. So he broke up with you instead, thinking it’d be easier. So there, now you know. Now come over and let him fuck you with delicious make-up sex. before I lose my goddamn mind dealing with you – you children.”

Q exhales a puff of air. “There, you can have your phone back August.”
August was beet red. “Your bottom is going to be raw later. Raw, I say.”
“Oh pfft, you won’t have time, you’re gonna be too busy fucking.”
August glowers at him and put the phone to his ear. “…Franz? You’re still there? ..Oh you are. Shit, I am so- so sorry about this. My houseboy will be getting punished for this, don’t you worry. …Was what true? Any of it? …Franz please. You’re my best friend. I’ll always love you.” Quincy watches August wander off toward the bedroom to take the call in private.

When August emerges later, his eyes are red.
“..Uh oh, what happened August?”
“Franz is coming over.”
“Ha! Haha! Woo! I knew it.”
August smirks. “Yeah we’re gonna fuck. But first, we’re going to spank you together.”
Quincy’s eyes go wide. “That’s not how it’s supposed to go!”
“Just be lucky the whole band isn’t participating.”
It’s Quincy’s turn to groan. “Goddammit. This is the thanks I get?”
“Oh, forgot to mention – Franz is bringing you a cake from Domino’s.”
Quincy gasps. “Oh wow, an entire cake? Not just a piece?”
“An entire cake.”
The houseboy gives a dreamy sigh. “You guys really do love me.”
“You know I’m surprised you haven’t gotten fat already, Quincy,” August teases.
He sticks his tongue out in retort. “Bitch. Go shower, you reek of ciggies.”
“Go clean my bedroom before Franz gets here. Make sure it’s stocked.”
“Alright, alright~”

…”Quincy?”
“Yes boss?”
“Thanks.”
Quincy makes a dismissive wave with his hand. “Just credit me when you get famous.”

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Text is fictional. This is model Ash Stymest.

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torontopup:

kicksleathermen:

Instructing his lad on the play out for the up coming session where he will be shared …

Roy was trying to listen to his Master. He usually was entranced by the timbre of his voice, the low commanding tone he used to give instruction. His Master was laying out the specifics on how he was to behave later that night, how many men were coming over, on how he would be tied down and shared for their pleasure. Roy should really had been listening to that. It should have filled him with a bit of nervousness, both over pleasing his Master and pleasing the men. He hadn’t taken so many man in one session, so it was an appropriate time for self-reflection before the night began.

“And they’ll probably want you in the swing, so your hole will be open to them, and they can fuck you one by one..”

But Roy wasn’t thinking about that…he was smelling the smoke from his Master’s cigarette. He could faintly smell the acrid scent of cheap beer too and hear it slosh around in the glass bottle. It reminded Roy, very bluntly, that nine months ago he was in a pub holding those same things when they met. He used to smoke two to four a day. Roy loved the social aspect of smoking, how cool he felt, the shape of the box in his hand. He wanted just one drag, to feel the sweet caress of nicotine of it in his lungs. The cravings had died down after his Master had forced him to quit for his own health, as he couldn’t run even a block, but Roy discovered that the cravings had never really left. He wanted one, more than he wanted an orgasm at this point. And of course, nothing quite rounds out the buzz of a cigarette like the aftertaste of alcohol on the numbed tongue. Roy considered begging, asking for his Master to share them, but Roy did not dare. He knew his Master was doing this on purpose, to remind him distinctly that this casual conversation was masking a lesson about control. About denial. About ownership. And Roy was the one in this cage, awaiting use by all those men, for his owner’s pleasure.

His Master was a man amongst men. Undeniably male, in his form and presence and voice. He could have a cigarette, and a drink whenever he wanted; hell he was entitled to them! Anything in moderation, because Masters are in control of themselves. Roy knew he was not on that level. He was weak, susceptible to peer pressure and addiction. He sought chemicals to dull feelings of inadequacy and poor self-esteem. It was better that his Master had the upper hand and could make decisions for him, about his health, and body, but it didn’t mean Roy always enjoyed it. And now, he wasn’t, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Are you listening, boy?” his Master asked, with a burp.
“Ye-yes Sir.”
“Then what did I just say?”
Roy swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “That…that I’ll be stretched before Ortega fucks me, because he is huge, and that I shouldn’t assume I can take him just because I took the others.”
“Or?”
“Or because I’m horny and would be excited by a big dick, Sir,” Roy mumbled, blushing.
His Master took a long drag, then exhaled. Roy nearly whimpered at the scent. “Good boy.” He stubbed the cigarette out, leaving about a quarter of it unburned.
“You please me tonight, you can smoke the rest of this. You fail me, and I’ll make you eat it.”

Roy felt a chill go through him. This was a very different kind of reward, and the challenge excited him. He strained in his cage. “Yes sir, thank you Sir. I will not disappoint you tonight.”
“I do not expect to be disappointed, or embarrassed in front of my friends. Are you a good boy?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you horny?”
“Yes sir.”
His Master took another swig of beer. “This is going to be a fun night, don’t you think?”

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Text is fictional.