A/N: This story is intended to be a one-shot—so my usual "don't get attached" rule applies. Though, let's be honest, my one-shots are usually epic fails that I continue because I'm helplessly fuelled by my own attachments…

Graphic/explicit gay smut, dub-con and light coercion ahead. It's not exactly what you think, but it may upset readers, anyway. Read at your own risk.

Characters are Cole (Power Trip) and Tristan (Power Trip/Hands of a Monster series). I would recommend reading those, since I'm not going to try very hard in making backstory understandable to new readers. That said, you should still be able to enjoy it…

Despite a busy schedule I always show up, on time, wherever I'm needed. I can't make practice as much as the other two can, but I've committed to meeting in Nick's basement at least once a week for the sake of the band.

Today, after a long session, a sweaty Gavin breaks the news about why we have no upcoming gigs.

"Cole says we aren't allowed to play at Mockingbird's anymore," he starts, green eyes set on Nick who nearly drops his guitar at the news. Thankfully, for once in his life, he has the strap on properly. "And he won't be booking any more shows for us."

"Why?" Nick roars immediately, swinging the instrument behind his back.

"Because I broke up with him?" Gavin explains. His voice is as calm as ever; he doesn't look, or sound, the least bit distraught about things. Which is normal for him. Still, up until recently, Cole had been obsessed with the band—with Gavin—and had gone to incredible lengths for us.

To cut it off because of a break-up…?

"What? But – but that doesn't mean he has to go that far, right?" Nick screeches, echoing my thoughts. He rounds on me to back him up, eyes flashing in the flickering basement lights above him.

"I think it's a little extreme," I agree. "But—Gavin must've dumped him pretty hard…"

"Gav!" Nick shouts desperately, rounding back. "You should've let him down easier! Doesn't he still like you? Can't you ask him for a favor just one more time?"

Except now, Gavin isn't really paying attention. He's locked into a conversation on his phone and as he furiously types, his eyebrows twitch and a rare frown makes it clear he isn't going to consider what Nick's asking.

"Fuck no," he refuses after the short pause. "It already took a lot to get him off my back. He straight up told me not to come back to Mockingbird's unless I was going to dick him up and down – or find him someone that would."

Nick pulls a face, but then he looks down at his watch. "Well—fuck—that sucks. Should we even keep practicing?"

"I can stay," Gavin offers, spinning a stick on his leg with one hand while still texting with the other. "My boyfriend's elbow deep in baby shit."

Nick and I don't have to say much; both of us share a concerned look because we don't exactly like Brecken. The dude is psychopants. Our encounters were few and far between, but I'll never forget the way he dragged Gavin out of his room once. Good looking, sure—but personally? I wouldn't want to cross his killer gaze. He was scarier than Colby dealing with a coked-out Ashton.

"You guys don't even know him," Gavin reminds in his trademarked, blasé fashion, answering our voiceless silence.

"Ha," Nick scoffs.

"Okay, what he did to your brother wasn't fair – but he's working on that…"

"Gav. Hell will freeze over before I believe Douchewaters changed his ways."

"So supportive," Gavin counters dryly, flashing Nick a dangerous look. "It's not like your best friend is madly in love and happy for once or anything like that…"

"Happy? I thought you're mad at him for this whole baby thing," I remind, because just yesterday Gavin was texting us that he'd had enough waking up so early by the screaming thing, and being left behind so Brecken could tend to it.

"I'm mad at his sister," Gavin clarifies as he slowly taps a beat on the left snare, muttering, "irresponsible bitch… and Brecken just lets her walk all over him—happier than ever. I didn't sign up to be a fucking dad…"

"You hate kids," Nick agrees, nodding like this is some well-known fact.

As I stand up to leave, I notice Gavin's expression; a dark, brooding kind of look emphasized by the shadows of black hair falling in his eyes. It used to be difficult to determine by his face alone exactly how he was feeling. But it's undeniable that Brecken's done a number on him because these days, I get the sense Gavin has more ability to emote.

His irritation erases instantly as he catches me on my way out. "Leaving?" he asks, pausing mid-beat.

"No point in practicing when we don't even know when our next gig is," I sigh. Time's valuable. Mechanical Engineering is a demanding field, to say the least.

Instead of rolling his eyes, Gavin stares up at me curiously. Normally he'd remark at what a selfish buzzkill I am, but today he's unusually silent. His green eyes roam my body – and he's just starting to make me feel uncomfortable when he speaks again.

"Tristan, you could book us that gig," he suggests finally, just as I'm putting on my jacket and about to pack up my bass.


"Cole's lonely," he shrugs. "Any guy will do."

His suggestion isn't lost on me, but I give him a look that questions he's lost his mind anyway.

"Dude, if that's a joke, it's not funny," I start, but Nick's already catching on and in his excited haste, he runs forwards, grabbing me by the elbow.

"Think about it!" he insists, pulling me by the arm and sitting me down. Both Gavin and Nick look as excited as ever, sharing shady, telekinetic messages with each other in a single glance.


"Like it or not, you're the best option," Gavin says, even though my brain argues the opposite. It begins to race a mile-a-minute, screaming to me there's no way I could ever – ever – willingly touch a guy.

"You're our only hope," Nick pleads, leaving me no time to call him out on his Star Wars reference. "I have Penny, dude."

"And I have Brecken," Gavin reminds.

"You're single," Nick points out.

"And smart," Gavin lists.




"Kind'a shallow, though…"

"Okay I get it!" I interject, rolling my eyes. "Did you also forget I'm straight? So no. It won't happen."

Gavin gives me a dead stare I've witnessed plenty of times in my life. He's made that same face when we told him to scale it back on drums (he was bleeding all over the place in those days). He also made that face when I said he was too smart to turn down admission to Brown.

He makes that face a lot – and it means the same thing every time; I should know better than to tell Gavin what he can and can't do because it's just a challenge for him. This time, it's no different. He's not going to take no for an answer, and I see it in his determined green eyes.

"No," I emphasize again anyway, standing up defiantly. "He's your ex. He's not my problem."

"He is your problem," Gavin snaps, pushing me off balance and back into the chair behind me. His arms cross and he stares down formidably, green eyes narrowing. "We're talking about no shows here, Trist."

"It's not what I want either!" I exclaim, giving Nick a look like he'd better get Gavin under control. "But I'm straight. I'm not down to – to fuck some guy for gigs Gavin!" Because it's as ludicrous as it sounds.

Eyes darkening, Gavin hisses out his next words from behind tightly clenched teeth. "Be the slut I know you are, and let him suck you off." The impact of his statement shuts my mouth. "Acting like you care? It's a mouth – just fuck it." He's turning cruel like when people accidentally touch him. Actually, he's angrier than I've seen him in a while, and even if I'm a few inches taller than him, I feel the full effect of his intimidating aura as he looms over me. "I played with him—did my part—so now it's your turn."

"Nut up and shut up," Nick agrees solemnly. I know he's just happy he's not on the receiving end of Gavin's ridiculous demands. How nice for him that he has Penny. I've only ever wanted a stable relationship like that; my girlfriends barely last a few months…

I sit silently, refusing to imagine Cole between my legs – it makes my stomach turn.

Forget the fact that we've barely talked, since Cole is only concerned about Gavin; he even called me Dexter once.

Forget the fact that he's pushy, bossy, insensitive and has a rather dislikable personality altogether.

There's just one thing I can't forget. He's a guy.

"Cole won't even want to do anything with me!" I insist, grasping at straws now. "He should hook up with someone he has a chance with!"

"Know anyone?" Gavin asks bluntly. My silence just twists Gavin's lip into a knowing smirk. "Yeah – so again, you're our only option. Besides, I don't think he'll have any problem with you."

"I'm not just going to walk up to him and tell him to suck my dick for a show!" I shout, now desperate to make the two of them see the absurdity of the situation. "He'll call the cops!"

"He won't," Gavin dismisses, swiping to unlock his phone. "I'll let him know you're interested."

"You're a pimp now?" I seethe, defeated.

"Guess so," Gavin shrugs, taking no offense. When I'm allowed to stand up, I quickly gather my things and Nick pats me a few times on the back appreciatively. Just as I'm about to pass him Gavin stops me by kicking his leg out in front of my knees "He said Tuesday at nine works. Meet him at Mockingbird's."

A response that fast? My heart starts hammering for a reason I can't understand. It's almost like getting pre-show jitters but—mixed with a dread that I can't shake…

Gavin notices my apprehensive—terrified—look and sighs like he's been burdened to feign sympathy. "It won't be that bad, Trist," he convinces, leaning in slightly so he can keep Nick out of the conversation. "Cole's just having a hard time moving on. He needs a couple meaningless flings and he'll be back to normal in no time. Think of the band."

I groan, making it clear that band or not, I'm not happy about being whored out.

"We don't have to fuck?" I ask, still feeling uneasy.

"That's up to you guys, but be careful if you do – he bites."

So I endure two full days of nauseating apprehension.


Ashton and Colby fucked off to Vegas, so I can't even ask them for the advice they aren't good for, anyway. I can text them, but I already know exactly what they would say about my situation. Ashton, for example, would be as excited as ever. Before his boyfriend came along, he would have insisted on joining. Now, he'd give lewd, unhelpful advice like the time he told me to ask Hannah to shove a finger up my ass.

Colby, on the other hand, would be disgusted. I can just imagine his expressive, horrified face at the predicament. He'd chastise and shame me for even considering it. He'd talk the big talk about how immoral it was, and that I should quit the band—problem solved.

But we'd come so far together, and each of us had made huge sacrifices to keep the band going. We'd almost been offered a deal a year ago before things fell through—thanks to Nick's busted-up face.

Now we were so close to making it, all of us could taste success just around the corner. Cole had played a vital part in that. He'd been an acting manager of sorts. With him gone, it would leave a noticeable hole in our band – one that we'd quickly fall through ourselves if something didn't change.

That's why, despite my immediate reservations, sexuality, and moral obligations, I find myself sitting in the parking lot of Mockingbird's during comparably dead weeknight hours.

As the clock ticks closer to nine, I spend my last few minutes debating this imminent experience. I know that one of the biggest mental hurdles is the fact he doesn't even know me.

Sure, he's seen me in passing, but he hasn't talked to me. He calls me the wrong name. His eyes glaze right over me in his usual search for Gavin and these thoughts irritate me.

Dexter! Like he's already pegged me as some nerd…!

But the band is counting on me.

I brace myself for the worst as I review the only things I know about Cole – and that is, he's a short, flamboyant manager of a venue. With dirty blonde hair, round blue eyes, and a soft, effeminate face he's not bad looking; he's just not my type.

And I have a very specific type.

Shallow, vain, whatever you call it, I can't help that I'm attracted to a certain kind of girl; tall blondes—the bigger the boobs, the better. I love the look of a tight dress hugging hips—heels, perfume… all that drives me crazy.

Though I've recently found out that I'm not their type.

With over a dozen breakups under my belt, I cast my mind to the reason they always give: I'm too nice.

Too. Nice.

Yeah, they're interested when it's Tristan who's in a band, and Tristan who has a nice car, and Tristan who comes from money.

They're not interested when it's Tristan holding the door for them, and Tristan who studies hard to get into a well-paying field, and Tristan who buys them gifts, and helps with favors, and gives them his Netflix password.

No, apparently, kindness is a deal breaker.

I'd already thought about breaking out of my comfort zone and trying to date chicks outside of the bar scene, but never like this. Cole is so far outside my comfort zone, he's not even on the map.

Suddenly noticing the clock says nine'o'five, I groan out loud.

This is happening… and I better get it over with quickly.

Although I'm nervous, I'm also resigned. I've already spent hours agonizing over my fate and instructing myself how to make it through. That is, get a blowjob—close my eyes—and insist it's not happening. I didn't get very far with any other mental prep, because after I googled some pretty gay things, I got more than an eyeful of something I know for a fact I can't handle.

When I walk through the front doors of Mockingbird's, a large-bodied bouncer gives me trouble. We usually enter through a side-door with Gavin, so I don't recognize this guy at all.

"I.D," he demands, making an impatient gesture with his hand as I fumble around my back pocket for my wallet.

"I won't be drinking," I say, handing over the identification anyway.

The bouncer groans like he's had the worst day of his life, and my comment is the final straw. "I'm sick of you assholes," he snaps. "Fuck off."

He flicks the card away from me and it lands near the entrance. I immediately pick it up, but instead of leaving I just pocket it. "I'm here to see Cole…?" I venture, hoping those will be the magic words to get let in.

It gets the bouncer's interest, anyway. He crosses his arms—way too muscled for my comfort—and glares down at me with thick, intimidating brows pulled over glaring eyes.

"I said—fuck off," he spits.

More than happy to oblige this time, and not looking for a fight at all, I turn on my heel to head for the exit. But a familiar—shrill—voice calls out, stopping me mid-step.

"Derick what have I told you?!" Turning back, I watch a five foot nothing of a guy stomp up some wide steps and approach the bouncer with his hands on his hips. "I swear to God if this keeps up, you're fired!"

"He's loitering!" Derick the bouncer accuses, pointing a finger at me in reference. "I'm doing my job!"

"Stop turning away customers!" he snaps. "We've already had like, five negative reviews about this!"

Knowing he's on thin ice, the bouncer shuts his mouth. He glares murderously at me as Cole's tiny hand grabs my forearm to drag me away.

"Fucking idiot… never hiring family again…" he mutters furiously.

Even though he's small, Cole is fast on his feet and soon he is marching me through the venue and straight into the back. I'd been through these very halls many times. Dressing rooms and a stage setup area were concealed behind a door labelled Staff Only.

"Sorry to hear about... you and Gavin..." I offer for absolutely no reason other than it feels right... and the silence is a bit too much for me.

"Oh, well thanks, but who can blame him? Brecken is choice," he emphasizes the word by kissing his fingers like a chef would after a taste test. I watch – kind of fascinated, actually – as Cole shivers head to toe like he's experiencing an orgasm just thinking about him.

A very distant—insensible—part of me feels let down at this. Brecken is a good-looking dude in a model way; he's a douchebag though, so I have that on him. But there's a heavy feeling now because once again, I'm hooking up with someone who likes the dark, hostile assholes.

Cole doesn't seem the type to like nice guys.

And I'm not sure why I care. Or why I'm comparing myself to a guy who beat up both Nick and his brother for even crossing his path...

Bottom line, I don't like flamboyantly gay bar owners either.

"So Tristan, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one," I say, trying not to focus on the deadly grip he has on me and ignoring instincts to shake him off. I don't know what the usual etiquette is when you're being forcefully dragged to a dick-sucking destiny…

"And like, how straight would you say you are?"

"Completely," I answer honestly.

"Scale of one to ten," he clarifies, looking back at me and smiling like he finds this all very amusing.

"A ten."

Cole erupts into a mad fit of exaggerated giggles, only recovering when we've rounded a back corner. "Okay but like—it's more of a nine, right? The very fact that you're here…"

His last comment gets to me.

I experience a wave of anger and resentment as I'm reminded what's at stake, and why it's so important we keep playing gigs here. Cole's ultimatum is a total abuse of power… and for him to throw it in my face…?

"Look, just because you're the manager…"

"Owner," he corrects, taking me down a side hallway in the maze of back office space. This statement surprises me, and Cole notices. Amusement lights up his blue eyes. "Aha! That's a nice face. What're you gonna say? I'm too young to be an owner? That I have no idea what I'm doing…?" He waits for me to agree to his prompting, but I give him nothing. "Well you'd be right," he finishes smoothly. "My dad left it to me and honestly? I have zero idea some days…"

"Clearly. You do know coercion is illegal…?"

Big blue eyes feign innocence. Cole acts like this is the first time he's heard such a thing, and it's an over-the-top, scandalized performance complete with a gasp and shocked, wide eyes. Then he finishes with a laugh and by blowing a wet kiss in my direction.

"Good thing you won't tattle on me."

It's bold. Cole has an insane level of confidence for someone of his height and sexuality, if I'm being honest. And the thing is, I'm used to wild, crass behavior. Actually, as I follow him down a hall, I snort out loud at the idea of Ashton ever meeting him.

"What're you laughing about?" he snaps, taking offense at nothing. I promptly wipe the smile from my face as Cole opens the door to a musty office and yanks my wrist, trying to force me inside like he isn't half my size. Once in, he gives a hard shove to my back and I go stumbling into a chair, spinning slightly.

The click of a lock makes me realize what's happening too late; suddenly Cole is already moving forward… lifting my shirt…

"Heyyy, you might actually have a good body—"

I force the hem back down wondering just what the hell I'm doing, again? All this for a show? Right, this is the only way…

"Let's get you hard," Cole murmurs next, fucking fondling my junk out of nowhere.

"Wait—just wait..." I beg, pulling his wrists together to stop his hands petting all over my body.

Is it just me, or is this going too fast…?

"Wait?!" he screeches.

Okay, just me.

Pushing me again, he makes me sit back in the squeaky office chair and proceeds to climb on top of me, despite my protests. "I've waited long enough! You're here for me, Tristan, and I want—to—start!" Reaching back to his desk, he produces a concerning amount of rope. Before I can question what he's going to do with it, he sets it between us. Then he quickly starts undressing me—grabbing the hem of my shirt again, pulling it up, off, and tossing it to the floor at our side, taking my glasses with it.

I'm not as bothered as I should be when I hear the frames crash to the stone floor.

A stunned look on Cole's face has my full attention. He is surprised, and it shows all over his face, from his wide eyes to his lifted brows.

"Un—ex—pected. You work out Tristan?"

"I do," I reply curtly.

His blue eyes trail up my abs, to my Adam's apple, until they meet my eyes and then he grins again. "You're hot."


Cole suddenly looks like Christmas has come early. I'm left feeling odd—like he's validated some non-existent part of my ego.

Before I can think about it too much, Cole reaches for my right arm and, using the rope between us, binds it to one of the armrests of the chair.

The suddenly wild beating of my heart prevents any further protests, but I'm still confused as to why I am being tied up... and why I'm still letting it all happen…? I should be way more concerned about being restricted… but… it won't make a difference, will it? I have to keep reminding myself that I've already accepted whoring out my dick.

When Cole is done securing both of my arms to the chair, he starts petting my bare torso unreservedly. Up, down, then up again with soft finger tips. All with this way about it like I have no choice. His face is twisted into one of smug superiority—the likes of which I have broken many times before.

Calling people on their shit—and knocking them off their high horses—is basically what I'm known for.

Called bullshit on Ashton.

Called bullshit on Colby.

Called bullshit on Nick, Gav, and soon—Cole.

Because it's just a matter of time before this act disappears. And it is an act; simple physics. Cole is exerting too much energy, he can't possibly keep it up. I know he's lonely… he liked Gavin a lot from what I'd seen.

So why won't he show it…? That's caught my interest.

"Is there a safe word or something…?" I ask, wiggling bound wrists to gesture the situation.

"No," Cole replies, sliding off my legs and squatting down between them.

I blank for a second at the response combined with his sudden movements.

"No is the safe word," Cole clarifies, exasperated at even having to. "You say no, and I'll stop everything and untie you."

"Alright," I agree, happy to keep things simple. I remind myself that, tied up or not, it's just a blowjob…

Now that he's crouching on the tiled floor, Cole spreads my legs open, and draws closer to my crotch with each of his next words. "You don't have a girlfriend?" he asks, rubbing his face into denim and shooting me doe-eyes.

"If I did, I wouldn't be here," I mutter, defeated.

My attitude doesn't last long; blood shoots to my cock as soon as he starts mouthing and I have bigger problems. Like the thundering of my heart – the sudden flush; the sudden heat. Too soon. Way too soon to be feeling it like this…

That uncomfortable dread stirs again as I remember I haven't jerked off in days due to stress, and it's only going to make this situation worse.

"Mm, I dunno Tristan," Cole shrugs with a wide smile. "No girlfriend… letting guys suck your dick… all that seems pretty gay to me..."

"I'm straight," I maintain. I haven't lost count of my girlfriends. Fifteen of them now. Enough that this is all jarring. The girls I dated... even months into the relationship they weren't pushing me around to get my dick like this. It's making my head spin. "The straightest," I insist, though my breath hitches when Cole starts unzipping my fly. Time kind of comes to a stop. Cole's actions are all in slow motion as he goes to unleash my dick without setting any kind of mood. Without talking about things properly.

"Holy fuck Tristan. That's one thick cock...!" he reaches in—soft palm going for a good feel of my shaft as he pulls it out of my boxers. The contact is unreal; firm and confident. With a few short jerks I'm completely hard in his hands. "No... It's a monster cock. How the hell were you packing this!?" Cole demands, seriously bewildered as he looks up at me.

I shrug... noncommittally... fighting an instinct to be modest, but...

"I don't even think I can take this thing," he mutters, lips gradually getting closer until he's slowly sliding his wet tongue over my tip. The slippery muscle dips into my slit and gets my balls squeezing... gets me really hot on my neck, down my back... "I'll have to suck you—nice—and—slow—" he emphasizes each word with a small suckle; lips firmly planted around me and moving in wet circles…


Cole is acting crazy hot and just like the size of my dick, I can't even deny it. The things he says send blood rushing throughout my body—hitting me in bursts. It has the world darkening around the solid image of a petite guy kneeling at my feet, sliding his fingers all the way down my cock. Cole stops at my balls, triggering the first instinct to fight against my binds.

The chair rattles and the sound echoes throughout the room.

"So heavy," Cole teases darkly, cupping them and testing my reaction with a light squeeze. It's all instinctual; my hips shift so he can get better access and he pulls a groan from me by licking my cock feverishly. All over. With long strokes of his tongue; stopping at the tip and flashing suddenly dark blue eyes up at me. "You like this, Tristan?"

More soft sucks. In all the right places. Cole's soft lips kiss all around the tip before he spreads and flicks his tongue expertly. All of it makes my limbs jerk with weird, uncontrollable spasms of pleasure that have my hips lifting out of my control... seeking even more heat from Cole's mouth... intense tingling heightening my senses…

When he pulls me between his cheeks, my stomach tightens with the multiple throbs that overcome me. Things get warm and wet real fast. I'm pulsing when Cole massages his tongue on the underside of my cock, already drooling at the lips. He's pushing saliva out of his mouth to coat every inch and I love the hot, sticky feeling. Love it so much I'm nearing the edge—burning all over.

A noise escapes me—carried off by a previously bated breath, and I get mad at myself for how quickly it's taking Cole to make me react like this.

Urgent denial sweeps me just as this boy pops off my cock and leaves me hanging.


Not Cole.

I beg and plead for it to not be so as a desperate desire to cum has me trying to rationalize the situation. Like, he just knows how to attack a dick with his mouth. Any guy would get hard. Any guy would... It's basic anatomy. Pleasures of the flesh. Something like that.

But I know deep down it's a lot more than a talented tongue when his baby blues connect with mine and for a fleeting moment, I find him attractive. A devilish, knowing smile makes my heart beat even faster, and then Cole climbs on to my lap again, careful to keep a gap between our crotches.

Now I don't have any choice but to endure this torture face to face.

"Tristan," he whines, wet lips feigning a pout. "I was going to blow you so good, you know. So good! Then you had to go and have this huge cock..."

I feel his words rolling down my body, making my dick twitch—and I still haven't managed a single word. I'm still stunned from the vision of this guy between my legs. I can only blink stupidly in return as Cole starts twisting on my thighs. Little by little he grinds closer to my aching cock, and I'm terrified by an increasing need of friction that rises inside of me.

"So how about I jerk you off instead?"

Soft, small fingers wrap around my length and yeah—at this angle—I look huge in Cole's small hands. And fuck they feel good, too. Just not as good as the wanton gasp that escapes him touching me.

Precum gushes from my slit—I watch my cock respond not just to the contact, but to everything Cole's doing. "Nice," he moans, massaging slick thumbs against me to get even more spilling out; bringing me back to imminent climax so fast I'm ashamed.

He takes advantage of my confusion to glue his mouth to my neck, sucking my skin deeply in rhythm to firm strokes. Every squeeze is accompanied by a deep suck with a little tongue sweeping over my skin…

It's all I need to hit the point of no return, and Cole notices.

"Oh you gonna cum, Tristan?" he hisses. "You can cum all over me."

His dirty talk only pushes me over the edge that much faster. Within seconds I'm facing the cruel reality of desperately cumming between his tight fingers as he twists on my legs like a stripper giving a lap dance.

My balls tighten and pull dangerously as spikes of pleasure—enhanced by embarrassment, anger, confusion and helplessness—take over. I find my arms pulling at the ropes again—fighting a desire take over from Cole and jerk faster… harder… the way I usually like it. But I am held hostage over my own body, and the release is better than any sex or solo job I've had recently.

I cum so hard, my legs twitch, and like a real freak Cole sucks in my ear and sticks his tongue deep inside it as I shake and buck madly against him—fucking into his tight fist.

"That's soooo hot, Tristan," he half-moans. "You're cumming—so much—"

Everything goes dark; the climax is too strong to endure open-eyed. And I don't want to see wickedly excited blue eyes because I don't think I'll ever make it out of here alive if I do.

Still, Cole pumps my cock like a pro and I feel the warm release escape me in long, steady spurts. He's right. It's a long climax, with too many fucking spasms to count.

It leaves me breathless.

But as my mind puts itself back together piece by piece, I start regaining the initial sanity I had. The pleasure ebbs away, leaving my mind light—fuzzy—but determined to stop this madness before it goes any further.

Cole, however, is already stripping, and before I regret it, I have to make things clear.

"Cole, let's stop here..."

His dirty look is hard to endure. I almost look away because it's intimidating even when you aren't tied up with your sensitive cock exposed and vulnerable. "Why?" he demands.

"Because... I'm straight and I – I don't just do it with anyone..." My own words have me cringing, but they also make me want to eat them when I see Cole's face fall.

"What are you saying? That I do it with anyone?" I keep my mouth firmly closed because, God, did I say the wrong thing…? "I don't do it with anyone," he insists, seething now and noticing the look of absurdity I give his current position. "Okay, not like this. This was all Gavin's idea!"

The impact of his accusation is effective. Even though it's coming from Cole, I believe it – knowing full well what Gavin is capable of. He is the mastermind behind the scenes, and for him to hook the two of us up like this, was probably fun for him.

"The whole thing?" I ask. "Even about you not letting us play here anymore?"

"What?" Cole's mouth drops, scandalized. "I never said anything like that."

"I told you coercion's illegal," I remind. "What'd you think I meant?"

His eyebrows pull together and he frowns—but this boy hasn't moved an inch. He's still on my lap, staring straight at me, wanting to fuck.

"I don't know," he snaps, "like… maybe Gavin paid you… all he said was that he'd help find someone."

I'm not even mad when he says it like that; in a shaky, honest tone. He doesn't even understand I don't need money… "Fucking Gavin," I mutter—also cursing myself for not knowing better…

Then, at the mention of Gavin, Cole loses the rest of his charm—his charisma. His bright eyes suddenly turn down and become dull as he works to release the rope tying one of my arms down.

Mood... disappointingly gone.

"I miss him... I can't help it. He was good to me… He's still good to me—setting this up! I only wanted a bit of fun, then your outrageous dick and slut-shaming bullshit... after you're the one that came here to get down? Get lost then."

It all feels wrong, and there's not a single part of me that wants to hurt Cole. Or anybody, really, so I try to make it right. As soon as my arm is freed, I use it to wrap around Cole's back and start patting—offering a comforting tone.

"Hey, look, I shouldn't have said it that way. I didn't know Gavin did all this… but it doesn't surprise me. I'm sorry..."

Cole freezes on my lap and then pulls back to shoot me another look; this one less dirty, and more questioning. He even flicks his gaze south a few times before responding.

"So, you are down to fuck?"


The lack of response has me confused. Ten minutes ago? I'd be running. But now… with my cock still hard and in charge… with the idea that Cole isn't actually a scheming piece of shit, just a little desperate…


"Hmm? Going to tell me you're straight again?" he asks, shaking his head like I'm unbelievable. "You keep saying you are but honey, straight guys wouldn't be letting this happen." He twists his hips, grinding hard denim against my still sensitive member and it almost has me fucking yelping.

That frozen, helpless feeling keeps my mouth closed, but inside… my mind is starting to crack from Cole's words.

I am straight, though.


Totally straight.

But then why won't my dick settle down?

No, I'm definitely straight. Cole is something else but… tits are my life.

"Don't you want to try it just once…?" Cole asks, his head even tilting to the side a bit as his eyes laser-focus to mine.

Do I?

The crystal blue colour is almost hypnotizing; sparkling and determined. I can't find any voice to refuse them, and then Cole takes it as consent to keep undressing.

"Good. It'll be quick. With this cock," he gives my member a squeeze in reference, "I'll cum right away."

It feels like I've caught a fever; it spreads over my body, relaxing my free arm enough that Cole can move. I'm left dumbfounded in my seat as he strips, revealing a skinny, pale torso with absolutely no boobs at all and then—Jesus—Cole wiggles out of his pants next.

One look down, and I notice Cole's in the same situation as me – cock now standing at attention and very close to touching mine. His dick is smaller in comparison; smooth and hairless. This boy grooms himself top to bottom. Altogether it's a shocking image; I'm frozen at the sight.

"You've done anal before?" he asks, completely unabashed and not at all concerned about his small, near naked body resting on mine. He tugs at my free hand, urging me to get a feel of his body for myself while I answer him.

The fact is, I haven't tried it at all, and I manage a tiny shake of my head.

As Cole squeals excitedly, I reflect on the fact that none of the girls I dated were ever interested in it. And I wasn't particularly fond of the idea either. It seemed messy, and a lot of work…

But my fingers dip into Cole's crack anyway.

He may be thin—and small—but the cheeks of his ass are plump and satisfying against my palm. I can get quite a handful in my grip and Cole encourages my exploration by pressing forward and lifting his ass up a bit.

"This is exciting… like I'm taking your virginity," Cole jokes darkly. His face is only a few inches from mine now, and he still has this look like this is all very entertaining for him.

It's annoying, but up close, I can't help notice how pretty he really is. Flawless skin. Big eyes. Even bigger lashes.

And very cute pink lips that are heading straight for me...!

I don't even move my mouth away; my brain has literally fried itself. But Cole doesn't kiss me, actually. He presses our noses together and looks me straight in the eye so deeply, I feel like he's trying to see through my soul.

Meanwhile my hand has stopped its fondling, and Cole reaches behind him to change that. "Feel for yourself," he encourages—still pressed against my face. "It's nothing like a pussy."

God help me, I go for it.

I wiggle one finger against his back entrance and find a wet ring waiting for me. I start circling the pad of my finger around it and Cole lets out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes. A moment later, his head rests on my shoulder so he can angle his ass up as high as he can get it… wanting me to do more…

The spins aren't getting any better. I feel drunk—my mind is completely detached from my body and filling with more and more illogical thoughts by the second.

Because there is absolutely no logic behind the way I work that finger inside Cole. None. An hour ago, this was something I was trying to avoid at all costs. Now… I can't deny that I'm rock-hard and fingering some guy's ass.

I slide it in effortlessly, letting a soft "whoa" escape me. It's tight, but frictionless… and burning hot. Almost immediately, Cole clenches onto it—tight walls wrapping the digit—and pushes down until I'm knuckle deep and it's entirely gone.

"I lubed up just for this but—Tristan I'm serious… we might need more prep for that cock of yours…" he moans as I begin moving my finger back and forth, testing the limits of this incredible feeling.

Lubed up…? Just for me…? I can hardly process his words before he lifts off my finger, not even letting me attempt to squeeze in a second.

He stands – fully naked – and walks around his desk, pulling open a drawer. I'm left staring at my finger in awe for several moments before he returns with a bottle of lube in one hand, and a condom in the other. He puts the condom wrapper between my lips and places knees on either side of my crotch.

"All you have to do is sit still and stay hard," he says, pouring a generous amount of fluid onto his hand.

I try taking a deep breath, but all I smell is cum and the dusty mildew of back offices. It reminds me of the place Colby works…

Fuck him, though.

He isn't helpful even on a good day. I don't even know why I'm thinking about him at a time like this.

It's like my brain is malfunctioning—a loose connection causes it to lurch to a stop occasionally. That's how I feel in the moment watching Cole reach his hand behind him and start working his hole just for me.

Even when I blink, the contrast of his pale skin against the dark office walls behind him remains burned into my vision. Worse are the words coming out of his mouth that are sending shivers down my body—electric shocks zapping straight to my cock.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he promises—the wet sound of his fingering reaching my ears. "Ahh—but—Tristan… I might cum just looking at you."

Really? I glance down at his cock, getting an eyeful of its twitching form that looks ready to burst alright. But how…? I haven't even done much. I barely got my finger in there… the foreplay I'm used to lasts forever; this is all happening so fast it's impossible.

At the audacious scene in front of me, I quickly grow tired of the aching in my own dick. To the point where I notice the small voice in the back of my head, urging him to hurry it up…

And like a mind-reader, Cole finishes with the lube, and snaps the condom from me next. "Just the tip," he warns darkly, peeling back the wrapper and pinching the top of the latex. He proceeds to stretch the condom a few times before he goes to roll it on me. "I'll die if I take the whole thing…"

He says 'die' in a way that I'm not sure is good or bad. But that might just be my mind failing me again. It's hard to think when blood is flowing to my cock in waves – and I've never suffered this kind of blood loss before. Even with the hottest girls, I've kept a clear head.

I watch as Cole does a nice job of wrapping me up; pouring a generous amount of lube on me, too. I understand why it's needed, and I'm not complaining, but he squirts so much on me that I feel sticky wetness rolling off my dick and collecting at my balls… between my thighs…

Sliding forward, he slams his cock against my stomach and steadies himself on his knees so he can slowly lower himself onto me. There are no words either—he just grabs my dick, aims it to his ass, and tortuously sits on it.

Because it's tight.

Way tighter than expected.

Cole lets out a fluttering breath, grabs the back of my head, and closes any more distance between our bodies by pressing them together with all his strength.

And finally, things are going slow.

Slow enough for me to savour everything; his needy touch… his hot ass that feels like it's sucking me in. Absolutely unbelievable. Like having my dick squeezed over and over.

I breathe deeply, focusing on the absolute and immediate pleasure that is overcoming me. It takes a lot of mental effort I'm not sure I can keep up not to just lift my hips up and sink a few more inches of my cock inside Cole—that's all my body wants to do.

But the dude on top of me is in control of everything.

He set the position, and now he's setting the pace; taking his time stretching out on my dick.

He is fucking all of me. My cock. My body. My mind.

It's all very intimate. Maybe because now Cole's too busy to tease and toy with me. Or, it's the fact that we're skin-to-skin… face-to-face.

I use my only free hand to steady him by his back and keep him close, long past asking myself why. I can only tell myself not to break him accidentally and to just enjoy the tight heat devouring me.

"Tristan—" he murmurs, "I can start—moving—"

Why his voice sends sparks to my fingers is beyond me. It's a husky whisper that doesn't suit Cole's usual flamboyance. The words melt through my stomach as he lifts, slightly, and everything is still so damn tight it feels like he's taking my dick with him. But then Cole slams his weight back down and I flinch so hard I think I let a noise out. My heart pounds violently, filling me with an adrenaline that clouds everything. I can't move or speak—I just let Cole do all the work.

He fucks me slowly—with experienced hips that work his ass up and down my length—all while holding on to my head so tightly I can feel the fists in my hair tugging at the roots. And when Cole sinks another inch inside, he lets out a cry of pleasure that has me burning all over, ready to start helping.

Natural rhythm takes over.

Soon I'm thrusting inside of him – meeting his movements as carefully as I can – steadying him by his hip so I don't accidentally go too deep…

"Wow—Tristan…" he whines, arms shaking around my neck. "Never had a cock this good before…"


"You're hitting all—the good spots alreadyyyy!"

I am…?

The only things I'm aware of are Cole's small, smooth body on mine and the fact I can feel everything. Each thrust has his cock pressing against my stomach, and he clings to me, moaning in ecstasy; calling my name and telling me that he loves it.

No one's ever done that before.

"Fuck me... fuck me..." he urges, when I slow to a stop because my balls are squeezing painfully. Cole can't even wait for me to obey before he starts lifting and dropping his weight on to my cock again—fucking me… faster this time.

Still only taking half of my dick.

"Yeahhh, Tristan—!" he bites—literally ending those words by biting the still-stinging hickies on my neck. "Fuck me."

"I. Am."

And to prove it, I pull Cole down with my free hand and start fucking him harder than before—too hard—would-never-fuck-a-girl-like-this-hard. Yet it's everything Cole's been screaming for.

He hits a climax so strong, I feel his full body shaking on top of mine—and his ass convulses in a way that makes me lose my mind just giving it to him. I've never felt this earth-shattering pleasure before; it's all thanks to the hot iron grip he has on my cock… sucking me deeper…

It's not a lie to say that I completely lose myself in the sticky, sweaty haze of sex with Cole.

"Feels—soo good Tristannn!" he whimpers, voice making my dick pull and twitch; milked by his powerful orgasm.

Because it's just that intense. He screams and squirts everywhere and oh God. It's impossible to say anything when I'm still fucking into him—still shoving more and more cock inside a small ass that really can't take it.

He moans softly into my ear next, making me grip him tighter... fuck furiously... make the most out of this explosive pleasure that has me giving in to the moment... giving in to primal desires...

I hold Cole's back tightly—securing him to me—mind so fucked, the only thing I understand is that I want a deeper connection, and in the moment, I kiss him.

I pull his lips to mine, finding them even softer than expected. With no sticky gloss, or weird makeup taste. Cole's lips are so buttery smooth I don't wait to push my tongue through them, and he gets so weak accepting the muscle deep in his mouth that he slumps against me.

I have no choice but to stop now that he's done jizzing all over me and is total dead weight.

But I keep my cock inside him because – damnit – I was close for a minute there…

"Are you... going to pull out?" Cole asks, body still limp and now breathless once I break the kiss.

With his energy gone – with his guard down – finally, I can challenge him a little. "That depends if you're done. All satisfied?"

Cole is speechless as I keep as much of him on my dick as possible. Yes, it's selfish of me to propose continuing… I get I don't really have a right to do that. But even if I can't explain it, it comes down to the very strong need to cum once more.

"You want more?" I ask, frowning at the way he's hiding his eyes from me and avoiding my questions.

Cole's entire face is now red—his attention directed into untying my second arm. The marks that remain on my skin don't go unnoticed, but he's not climbing off me, and as soon as I'm fully free it doesn't take that much strength to lift him up and bring him down to the ground with me.

"I want more," I admit, still not understanding why Cole's getting embarrassed now. "Okay?"

He nods his head, and then uses a hand to push me back. I give him enough space to twist onto his hands and knees, and get his ass high in the air.

He gives me a full view of his pink twitching hole... smooth cock still hard.

Just seeing him want me so much... begging for a fuck… wow, it gets me going.

Cole is hotter than I thought he could be when takes my length back in with a sexy, needy noise. He stares at me with a fucked-so-good face that has my blood boiling again, and I start this final round.

A real round.

Now that I'm not tied to a damn chair. Now that I'm not tied to a heterosexual mind. It's easier to just listen to what my body wants.

As I start fucking him, Cole sinks into the floor considerably. His knees have no strength and they part wide open, sliding against the hard tiles. I just follow him down, pressing our bodies together and returning some of the damage he did to me earlier. My lips connect with the back of his neck and I suck deep purple marks into it while my hips rock gently.

"Tristannn!" he finally squeals, when I sink another inch inside him.

"You okay?" I ask, pulling out a little even though I'm throbbing for more; seeking heat so desperately I literally can't stop spinning my hips.


"Doesn't hurt?" I breathe, just to make sure. It wouldn't be unusual. Girls have complained about the pain in the past.

"No—right there—do it there—!"

He's referring to a spot deep inside him that I'm currently sliding against. I forget about wanting to give him every inch as a sudden and overwhelming need to wreck him the way he wants takes over.


I cut him off accidentally… pounding into him… going so deep and fast his legs start jerking. Little Cole shakes on my dick, but I can't feel too bad for him when he's cumming.


Holy God, how?

When he tenses, he tightens—wringing my cock with sharp spasms. Strings of cum burst out of him, and he gasps madly against the floor, voice fluttering over his pleasure.

It's such a hot sight, I have trouble slowing down. Instead I pull back, adjusting our position so Cole's round cheeks are in my own hands, and then a strange feeling fills me. Like holding forbidden fruit, maybe. The taboo makes my mouth water. It sends me into a wild lust that has my hands spreading him open.

If I had any doubt he was on board...

"Yesss, Tristan," Cole purrs. "Fuck me—some more...!"

Damnit, I'm fucking a dude.

A little hard, yeah, but Cole takes it like a champ, providing smooth heat—beautiful visuals—and a new appreciation for smaller frames I apparently want to fuck to pieces.

He's a total mess. Can't even hold his own ass up properly. But because he's petite, it's easy to lift him under each leg and get him taking rapid thrusts.

I'm close. And the sensation is an all body one. Chest squeezing, head floating, stomach tingling pleasure I've never even come close to tasting before spreads throughout me. Every part of my being pulls me towards the brink of climax and an urgent electricity spikes along my cock from the friction of our bodies.

The energy is amazing. Powerful beyond measure. I release some of it with a groan that vibrates through me. "Fuck—" I breathe, swelling to a max—only enough time to warn, "cumming," before I burst.

One more deep thrust, with Cole gripping tightly, is all I need to start squirting.

I'm being drained. A powerful head rush accompanies the surge of pleasure filling me and I can barely hear Cole's squeaking voice over it. My hips are still moving, and I ride the last waves of climax in a frenzy that has me pounding too deep in the moment.

But I don't care about Cole's wellbeing. The usual concern I'd have has vanished from me and that's his own fault for pushing me to a place I've never been. His fault for taking my cock so good I literally lose myself.

It takes a long time for the sensation to fade away – expelling from me with every forceful beat of my heart and pulse of my cock.

After a few moments I finally pull out, ripping off the condom before checking in on Cole.

His body feels cold to the touch, and the direct contact with the floor isn't helping. I don't even think twice about pulling him against me because I also need a second to recover. My knees are too shaky to have any strength to walk, and Cole is sweaty, wobbly, and in no condition to go anywhere. His head rests against me as I steady my breathing, enduring snapshots of our sexual activity running through my mind.

It was good.


So tight… with a wicked hot, flexible body…

"Cole," I mutter, pulling on his small chin. "You're pretty quiet."

"Mmm—" he responds, making me laugh.

We are in no rush to separate bodies. Which should be weird. I should be booking it out of here like I dreamed I would at my first chance. But I want to hold on a little longer and come down from the intense high together.

I have to think about things all over again with this new rose-coloured light covering my eyes. Now that we fucked like animals, what am I going to do with Cole? I don't know the first thing about being with a guy. And it shouldn't be a quick or easy decision—especially after years of jerking it to Playboy bunnies all your life. Then why do I still have whole-hearted desire to, at the very least, learn a little more about Cole…? And didn't I lecture Colby on this very thing…?

"I think I can get up now," he says finally, pulling out of his slump and rubbing his lower back. "Give me a hand though."

"Sure." I jump up to obey, and once he's steady on his feet, I collect our clothes off the ground.

"So?" he prompts, after I hand him his pants. Cole takes a seat on the edge of his desk to pull one leg through while curious blue eyes look up at me. "How straight are you now?"

"Hmm," I pause, trying to measure that myself on the scale he referenced before all this. I can't argue that he took me down a couple notches... "I'm like a seven out of ten, maybe?" I guess, dressing quickly.

"Just a seven?" Cole seethes, incredulous tone making me smile.

"Well – wouldn't complete bisexuality be a five?" I reason. "So, I'm not quite there."

Cole clicks his tongue, disappearing behind the t-shirt he slips back into. "Fine," he allows. "But you'd be there if I'd blown your brains out like I planned."

He says this casually, like it's a fact, all while smiling determinedly in a bright, captivating way…

Okay. I still find him attractive. That's not going away. It is, in fact, getting worse as I catch a glimpse of some hickies I left behind when he hunches forward to tie his shoes.

I make up my mind right there.

"Cole, what's your number?"