I can— I can take it.”He leaned forward over me, voice calm and precise.“You don’t get a medal for suffering. Gay sex No negotiation.”My voice dropped, shame rushing in faster than breath.“They’d call me things like ‘faculty fucktoy’ and ‘dorm flesh.’ If I hesitated, they’d spit on me and drag me outside like a dog. Ass up.”I obeyed.He stood behind me for a long moment. When he wanted.The head breached me.I cried out.“Too much?”“N-no, Sir. It trailed down slowly, warm and wet, mixing with the slick around his shaft.Then he pressed again. Just waiting.”Silence.Sean let out a slow exhale—like he was impressed, but also disgusted.“Now that sounds fun.”“It was, Sir.”“How many times did you jerk off to it?”“I don’t know. My hole ached, used and empty.And I thought of him.His voice. My caged cock throbbed violently—pointless, untouched, leaking.“You’re hard again.”“Yes, Sir.”“You’re hard from me milking your hole like a pump.”“Yes, Sir.”“Pathetic.”He slid in once more, deeper still, and held it there.“I own every part of you. It trailed down slowly, warm and wet, mixing with the slick around his shaft.Then he pressed again. Waiting.“Don’t move,” he said.I didn’t. Sean grabbed my ankles and pushed them back, folding me open.“Hold them.”I reached up and locked my hands behind my knees, fully exposed beneath him.Sean
