Daddy Slut

It starts at the gym.

Marc doesn't go there to hunt--not really--but he knows how he looks in a tank top. Sweat clinging to his pecs, veins bulging across his forearms, that thick cut of ass in snug compression shorts. He's not subtle. He doesn't have to be.

That's when he spots him:

Tall, tan, early 20s. Lacrosse build. Big hands. Big dick energy.

New face. New meat.

Marc watches the boy curl a barbell, lip between his teeth, those biceps thickening with each rep. There's a little redness in his cheeks--he's noticed Marc watching. And now he keeps glancing over.

---

Ryan's struggling to keep his composure as he does his reps. He's increasingly sure the hunky DILF is checking him out - not-so-subtly. Eyeing him with a gaze that's calm. Self-assured. Presdatory.

Is he really looking at me?

Shit, he is. And he's not even trying to hide it.

Ryan's pulse kicks up. He curls another rep, suddenly hyper-aware of every bead of sweat, every flex.

God, don't trip over your own dick, Ryan.

---

Marc waits until he catches his eye again. Smirks. Rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, slow and deliberate, like he's tasting him already.

The boy stumbles on a rep, spasming just slightly.

Perfect.

Marc strolls over, towel slung around his neck, casual as anything. That cocky little half-laugh already playing on his lips.

"You're new here," he says, voice low, gruff, *friendly*. "You play something?"

"Uh--lacrosse," the boy says, flushing. "At State."

Marc lets his eyes roam. Up. Down. Not even pretending to be shy. He *likes* the way the boy fidgets under the attention.

"Figures," he mutters. "You've got that... *recruiting catalog* look."

He lets that hang. Watches the boy squirm.

And then--*like a switch*--he leans in just a bit closer. Drops his voice.

"Tell me, hotshot. You get hard when older men check you out in the gym, or am I just the exception?"

The boy's face *blazes*. He opens his mouth--some kind of protest maybe--but Marc's already brushing a hand down his arm, letting the calloused pads of his fingers trail slow over young, eager muscle.

"I've got a shower at my place," Marc adds, casual, cocky, already turning like it's not a question. "If you're smart, you'll follow me."

And of course, he *does*.

---

Ryan follows Marc out of the gym like he's in a trance.

The air outside is cool, but sweat clings to Ryan's shirt. His cheeks are still flushed from the workout--and maybe something more. He keeps his eyes low as they walk, trailing half a step behind Marc like he can't decide if he wants to stare at the man's broad back or bolt the other direction.

Marc doesn't say much. He doesn't *need* to. That same cocky smirk rides his lips as he unlocks the truck, as he slides in with a grunt and a stretch that makes his abs flex under his tank. He watches Ryan fumble into the passenger seat like some flustered freshman.

They drive in silence for a minute.

Then Marc hums.

"You always follow strange men home after practice?"

Ryan shifts in his seat, clearly flustered. "You're not a stranger. I mean. Not *really*."

"Oh?" Marc grins lazily, eyes on the road, but shooting Ryan a snide side-eye. "Do tell."

Ryan fidgets. "I've seen you before. Around. You always--uh--you wear those really tight... like..."

Marc barks a laugh. "Say it."

Ryan swallows. "You've got a fat ass, man."

Marc flashes a wink. "Good boy."

Ryan's breath hitches.

Marc notices.

"You like being teased, huh?" he murmurs. "You gonna fall apart the second I take my shirt off?"

Ryan doesn't answer, but the bulge in his gym shorts does.

Marc just laughs again, low and knowing.

"You're gonna be fun."

---

The drive is only ten minutes, but Marc stretches it out.

He lounges in the driver's seat like he owns the world--one hand draped loose over the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. Just close enough to the thick ridge of cock pressed up against the inside of his gym shorts. The fabric is tight. Deliberate. His bulge shifts every time he shifts gears, flexes his thigh, spreads his legs wider.

Ryan tries not to look. He fails.

Marc smirks when he catches him glancing down for the fourth time.

"You nervous, pup?"

Ryan clears his throat. "I--no. Just... it's a small car."

Marc chuckles. "Uh huh."

He adjusts his grip on the wheel. Which just so happens to make his chest flex under his thin tank top, the deep ridge between his pecs catching the light from the dashboard. Sweat still clings in the creases. The scent of him--clean, musky, male--fills the cabin.

"You always this twitchy around hot guys, or is it just me?"

Ryan stifles a squeak, dropping his head back against the seat. His shorts are tenting obscenely now. There's no hiding it.

Play it cool, come on, play it--fuck, is he flexing on purpose?

You're already hard. You're basically wagging your tail like a golden retriever.

He stares out the window, trying to will his dick into behaving. No luck.

Marc grins.

"Relax, kid. It's a compliment. I *like* making boys squirm."

His hand shifts again. Fingers brushing slowly along the thick length in his lap. Not touching. Just teasing. Making sure Ryan *sees* it.

"You wanna taste it before we get inside?" he asks, casual as anything.

Ryan makes a soft, helpless sound.

Marc chuckles, low and wicked.

"That's what I thought."

---

Marc doesn't rush when they get to his place.

He parks slow. Stretches long. Makes a show of climbing out of the truck, arms raised overhead, tank riding up to flash a slice of lower abs. His ass, already obscene in those tight shorts, *bounces* as he lands.

Ryan practically stumbles out of the passenger side.

He's flushed, sweating, painfully hard. Every part of him screams *ready*. But Marc just strolls up the walk, glancing back once with a smirk.

"You coming, or you gonna hump the driveway?"

Ryan jogs to catch up.

Marc unlocks the front door with deliberate slowness. Pushes it open, steps inside, then pauses--just for a second--to give his hips a little roll. Just enough for his ass to wiggle.

Ryan makes a strangled sound behind him.

Marc grins.

"Shoes off," he says, kicking his own to the side. "Don't want you slipping when you're drooling all over the floor."

Ryan swallows hard, eyes locked on Marc's back as he leads the way in--every step a slow, teasing sway. Marc's house smells like leather and sweat and something warm and clean beneath. The lights are low. The air is thick.

"You hot, pup?" Marc calls over his shoulder, voice rich and amused.

Ryan nods, then remembers Marc can't see him. "Yeah. Fuck. I--yeah."

Marc stops in the hallway, finally turning to face him.

"Good," he says, voice dropping. "I like 'em hot."

Then he hooks two fingers in the waistband of his shorts and starts to peel them down.

Slowly.

---

Marc peels his shorts down with theatrical slowness.

Not in a silly way--there's a controlled confidence to it, a heavy awareness of exactly what he's doing. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband and rolls them down over his hips, letting the fabric drag across his skin inch by inch.

His cock flops free, heavy and half-hard, bobbing against his thigh.

Ryan stares. Swallows. His fingers twitch at his sides like he doesn't know whether to touch himself or pray.

Holy shit.

He's built like a fucking sculpture. And he's--he's hard. He's hard already. For me?

His mouth is dry. His heart's a drum solo.

Marc steps out of the shorts and lets them fall where they land.

"That look on your face," he murmurs, grinning, "I should charge admission."

Ryan lets out a shaky breath. "You're fucking hot."

Marc cocks a brow. "'Fucking hot'? That the best you got, college boy?"

Ryan flushes, but he doesn't look away. "Your dick's huge."

Marc chuckles low in his throat. He rolls his shoulders back, arms stretching to show off the thick slab of chest, the sweat-slicked muscle, the dusting of hair that trails down his torso.

"There we go. Praise. Daddy likes that."

Ryan's eyes flick from Marc's cock to his pecs to the confident smirk playing across his mouth.

"You do this to all the new guys?" he asks, voice rough.

Marc steps closer, slow and deliberate, letting Ryan *feel* the heat of him.

"Only the ones who look like they're gonna split their shorts watching me strip," he says. "You hard for me, pup?"

Ryan nods, mouth parted. "So fucking hard."

Marc leans in, lips just brushing his ear.

"Then take your time," he whispers. "Daddy's all yours tonight."

---

Ryan steps in like he's sleepwalking.

His eyes flick from Marc's chest to his arms to the heavy curve of his cock, like he can't decide what to worship first. His hands hover--hesitate--then land hard on Marc's pecs, greedy and clumsy.

He squeezes. Groans.

Marc chuckles, breath warm against Ryan's temple.

"Easy, pup," he murmurs. "They're not going anywhere."

Ryan doesn't answer. His hands roam lower, over the hard terrain of Marc's abs, down to his hips, thumbs brushing the slick V of muscle just above his cock.

Marc lets out a low, pleased sigh. One hand cups the back of Ryan's head, pulling him close. The other settles at his waist, grounding him.

He presses a soft kiss to Ryan's forehead.

"That's it," he says, voice like gravel dipped in honey. "Touch what you want. Take your time."

Ryan breathes hard. His fingers tremble, but they don't stop. He palms Marc's thighs, trails up to his chest again, mouthing at his collarbone like he can't get close enough.

Marc watches him with a quiet, possessive heat.

"God, you're starved," he says softly.

Ryan nods, barely able to speak. "You're unreal."

Marc grins.

"You haven't even seen what this body can *do* yet."

---

Ryan sinks lower, lips trailing across Marc's chest.

He starts at the collarbone, mouthing gently, then slides down--wet, reverent kisses across each thick pec. His tongue flicks out, tentative at first, then bolder as he tastes sweat, salt, skin. One hand braces on Marc's hip. The other kneads into the meaty heft of his thigh like he's trying to memorize the shape of it.

Marc groans. Soft, broken. A little *slutty*.

"Fuck, that mouth," he whispers. "You worship like a good boy."

Ryan shudders. His lips close around one nipple, suckling lightly, then harder when Marc gasps and tilts his head back.

"That's it," Marc pants. "Make Daddy moan. You're doing so good, pup."

Ryan grinds subtly against Marc's leg, breath ragged. He kisses across to the other nipple, nipping it gently, tongue circling. Marc's thighs tense under his palms, thick and solid, a playground of muscle.

"Can't believe you're real," Ryan mumbles against his chest.

Marc cups his jaw, tilting his face up.

"Believe it," he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. "And keep going. I want that pretty mouth all over me."

---

Marc watches Ryan with a slow, hooded gaze, chest rising and falling as he leans back against the wall.

Ryan sinks lower again--but not to worship like before. This time, it's curiosity. Hunger. A need to explore.

He starts at Marc's hips, lips brushing the sharp V, tongue tracing the trail of hair that leads to the base of Marc's cock. It twitches at the attention--thick, heavy, still flushed from earlier.

Ryan exhales slow. Then nuzzles against it, nose brushing the base, cheek rubbing along the side like he's getting acquainted with it. The weight. The heat. The sheer size of it.

Marc groans above him, hand sliding into Ryan's hair, not to guide--just to feel.

"Fuck, you're sweet," he rasps. "You love this dick already, don't you?"

Ryan doesn't answer. He just presses a kiss to the shaft--then another, then another. He trails his mouth up the length of it in slow, reverent licks. No suction. No hurry. Just worship.

By the time he reaches the tip, it's already leaking again.

Ryan swipes his tongue across the slit. Tastes salt and heat. He shudders.

"You gonna suck it again?" Marc breathes. "Or just tease me 'til I explode?"

Ryan looks up through his lashes.

"I want you to ache for it," he says softly.

Marc's breath hitches.

And then Ryan wraps his lips around the head. Gentle. Teasing. Like he's testing every inch. Tongue swirling, mouth slick. Taking just enough to make Marc moan, but not enough to satisfy. Not yet.

He works the tip slow, watching Marc's reaction. Learning what makes his abs tense. What makes his fingers tighten. What earns that low, broken sound that makes Ryan's cock twitch in the air behind him.

It's not about control.

It's about admiration.

He loves this. Loves earning those sounds. Watching Marc unravel, one soft suck at a time.

When he finally pulls off, lips wet, Marc's panting. Staring down at him like he's a miracle.

Ryan smiles--shy and wicked.

Marc chuckles, breathless.

"Fuck me," he mutters. "I'm gonna keep you."

And then--then--he leans down.

---

Their lips meet soft, tender.

Marc pulls Ryan up into the kiss, chest to chest, cocks pressed hot and wet between them. The friction is slick, delirious. Ryan groans into Marc's mouth, hips rocking slowly. Desperate. Grateful.

Marc lets it build. Lets him grind. Lets him melt into the kiss until Ryan's moaning and trembling, breath hitching in little stutters.

Then he breaks the kiss.

Marc's hand curls around the back of Ryan's neck. His thumb strokes slow at the hinge of his jaw. His voice, when it comes, is warm and amused.

"You're getting needy on me, pup."

Ryan nods, eyes glassy. "Can't help it. You feel so fucking good."

Marc hums. "Mm. Yeah, I do."

He rolls his hips just once--slow, smooth, a teasing press of cock on cock.

Then he pulls back.

Just a few inches. Just enough.

Ryan whines.

Marc grins.

"You think you've earned this cock already?" he asks. "That all it takes? A little worship, some sloppy grinding?"

Ryan blinks. Breathless. "I--fuck, I--"

Marc leans in close again, lips brushing Ryan's ear.

"Not yet," he whispers. "Daddy's not done teasing you."

---

Marc drops to his knees with the kind of practiced grace that makes Ryan shudder.

One second he's smirking up close, lips brushing Ryan's ear. The next, he's sliding down his body like syrup, hands dragging over skin, mouth hot and teasing. Ryan's breath catches--and then *moans* as Marc's lips brush his stomach, then lower.

Marc hums against his skin. It's filthy, casual, *cocky*.

He noses at the base of Ryan's cock, breath warm. Tongue flicking out to taste the slick already gathering there.

"You're leaking for me, pup," he murmurs. "You gonna moan when I suck it?"

Ryan's too far gone to answer.

Marc chuckles. Then opens his mouth and *suckles*.

It's not fast. Not aggressive. Just slow, wet suction--drawing Ryan to full mast with practiced ease. He works the head with his tongue, humming around it, like he's enjoying a favorite treat.

Ryan moans tremulously, hips twitching. His hands hover, unsure whether to grab Marc's shoulders or just let the man *have* him.

Marc glances up through his lashes.

"Don't come too fast," he murmurs, letting the cock slide wet from his lips. "I'm not even showing off yet."

---

Marc *lives* for this part.

Cock in his mouth, knees on the floor, a boy above him gasping his name like a prayer? It makes his whole body *sing*. He sinks lower, lips slick and hungry, relaxing his throat as Ryan's cock slides deeper.

*God, he's big. Young. Fucking delicious.*

Marc moans around him. Not just to tease--he *means* it. His own cock bobs heavy beneath him, untouched but hard as stone. Every needy whimper from Ryan, every twitch of those tense thighs, sends a pulse straight through him.

He bobs slowly, deliberately. Gagging just a little. Spit dripping down his chin.

*Let him feel it. Let him know what he's doing to me.*

Ryan groans, hips rocking forward just a little more forcefully.

Marc *hums*.

*Yes.*

Ryan's hands slide to Marc's head, hesitant at first. Then firmer. One thumb strokes through his hair, the other rests at the base of his skull.

"Fuck," Ryan whispers. "Marc... Daddy..."

Marc shudders.

*There it is.*

He looks up, eyes glassy, mouth stuffed full. Lets Ryan see how *wrecked* he is. Lets him feel the power in those hips.

*Take it. Use it. Make me your bitch for a while.*

---

Marc lets out a soft, *slutty* whimper.

It slips out between moans, wet and desperate. The kind of sound that begs for more without saying a word. The kind of sound that flips a switch.

Ryan *growls*.

His fingers tighten in Marc's hair. His hips buck forward--not violently, but *purposefully*. Testing. Claiming.

Marc opens wider.

*Yes. Fuck, yes. Use me.*

His throat relaxes instinctively, practiced and hungry. He moans around the cock now plunging deeper, every vibration coaxing another groan out of Ryan. Spit coats his chin, thick and dripping. His nose presses into the trimmed hair at the base of Ryan's shaft.

*God, he's fucking perfect. Hot. Young. Already addicted.*

Ryan thrusts again. More confidently now. More rhythm. He holds Marc in place, using him like he's been *invited* to.

And Marc has. Completely.

He drools around the cock in his throat. He chokes, just a little, and *loves it*. His own dick twitches helplessly below, leaking onto the floor.

Ryan moans. "Jesus, you're good at this."

Marc presses his palms to Ryan's thighs, steadying him. Welcoming him. Begging him.

*Don't stop. Take it. Take all of me.*

--

Ryan can't hold back.

Marc's mouth is too hot. Too wet. Too *willing*.

Each thrust gets sloppier, deeper, more desperate. Ryan's moans turn to ragged groans, the grip in Marc's hair tightening as his thighs start to tremble. Marc clutches his hips, steadying him, guiding him deeper, taking everything.

And then Ryan *buries* himself.

Balls pressed to Marc's chin. Cock throbbing at the back of his throat.

He lets out a broken, guttural sound--half growl, half whimper--as he *cums*, thick spurts shooting straight down Marc's eager throat. Marc moans around it, swallowing automatically, hungrily, eyes fluttering shut.

*Fuck yes. Give it to me. Let me feel it.*

The taste floods him. Hot. Salty. *Claiming.* He swallows every drop, letting Ryan ride it out, tongue still teasing along the underside as the boy twitches and shudders.

Ryan's body sags forward, breath heaving, fingers still tangled in Marc's hair.

Marc finally pulls back, lips glossy, chin wet.

He looks up, smirking.

"Good boy."

---

Marc bundles Ryan into bed with surprising tenderness.

He lifts him effortlessly, still flushed and panting, and lays him down like something precious. Then he climbs in behind him, wrapping those big arms around the boy's chest, pulling him in close. His cock, still heavy and *aching*, presses hot against Ryan's lower back.

Marc purrs.

"You did good, pup," he murmurs into his ear. "Made Daddy feel so fucking used. So full."

Ryan giggles, a little dazed, a little breathless. He squirms back against the heat of Marc's body.

"You're still hard," he whispers.

"Mmhm," Marc hums, nosing into his neck. "Didn't touch myself once."

Ryan's hand drifts down.

He wraps his fingers around the thick shaft, eyes wide at the weight of it. "Jesus," he breathes. "You're like... throbbing."

Marc groans into his hair. "That mouth, that throat? You think I *wasn't* gonna be aching after that?"

Ryan strokes him slowly, tentative but eager. Watching, fascinated, as the cock twitches in his palm.

"Can I make you cum too?" he asks, voice soft.

Marc smiles against his skin.

"I was hoping you'd beg me to."

---

Ryan starts slow.

His grip is a little clumsy--too tight at first, then too light. But he's eager. Curious. His hand glides up and down Marc's slick shaft, adjusting with every soft moan, every pleased sigh that slips from Marc's mouth.

Marc doesn't guide him, not directly.

Instead, he lets his body speak. He sighs low when Ryan finds the right pressure. Moans rough when his thumb brushes the head just so. His hips twitch forward when Ryan gives him a little twist at the top.

"Yeah, that's it," Marc pants. "Smart pup. Feels so good in your hand."

His arms stay wrapped around Ryan, possessive. One palm rubs slow circles over his chest, fingers splayed wide to feel every shiver. The other drifts to his stomach, grounding them together as Marc groans into the back of Ryan's neck.

"You're so warm," Marc murmurs. "So sweet. Keep going, baby... don't stop."

Ryan strokes faster now. More confident. His palm slick with precum, his wrist working in steady rhythm.

Marc's hips roll into it. His breath gets ragged. He presses soft kisses into Ryan's shoulder, moaning into his skin.

"Gonna cum, pup," he whispers, voice thick. "Gonna make such a mess for you."

---

Ryan stops stroking.

Marc groans in protest--half frustration, half anticipation. His cock twitches helplessly against his stomach, flushed and leaking. He opens his mouth to tease, to command, but then he sees Ryan's face.

That look.

Focused. Turned on. *Hungry.*

Ryan leans over him, hard again, cock bobbing as he moves between Marc's legs. He presses in, eyes wide, searching.

"I want to fuck you," he whispers. "On your back. I want to *watch* you cum from it."

Did I just say that out loud?

But Marc's legs are already spreading. That look in his eyes--hungry, open, ready.

Fuck it, Ryan thinks, lining up. I'm gonna ruin him. And he wants it.

---

Marc's breath catches.

*Oh, fuck. Yes.*

He grins, spreading his legs.

"Then take it, pup," he growls. "Show Daddy what you learned."

Ryan lines up, trembling slightly as he pushes in--slow, thick, stretching Marc open inch by inch. Marc gasps, head thrown back, hands fisting in the sheets.

*God, he's so fucking deep. He's gonna ruin me.*

Marc moans, one hand drifting to his own cock... then stopping.

No. Not this time.

He looks up, lips parted, flushed and panting.

"Don't let me touch it," he pants. "I want you to *fuck* it out of me."

Ryan groans--deep, primal--and starts to thrust.

Marc takes it all. Greedy. Moaning. Eyes fluttering, body twitching with every slow grind of cock inside him.

He's gonna break. Gonna cum untouched.

*And he fucking loves it.*

---

Ryan stares down at Marc like he's hypnotized.

Marc's body is flushed and gleaming, spread out beneath him like a fucking wet dream. Thick pecs rising and falling with every breath. Cock twitching, untouched, smearing precum across his abs. His thighs wide and welcoming, toes curling, every inch of him *inviting* more.

Ryan growls.

He grabs Marc by the hips and starts *pistoning* into him--long, deep strokes that make Marc gasp with each push. His hole clenches, needy, hungry for every inch. The bed creaks beneath them, rhythm building, filthy and relentless.

Marc moans.

"Fuck, yes... there--right there, baby... God, you're so *deep*..."

Ryan watches him fall apart, jaw slack, eyes rolling back. He leans over, one hand pinning Marc's wrist above his head, the other gripping his thigh.

"Look at you," Ryan pants. "Fucking perfect. You like me using you like this?"

Marc can barely speak. He just *moans*, cock bouncing against his stomach with every slam.

Ryan thrusts harder. Faster.

"Gonna make you cum just like this," he growls. "No hands. Just cock. Gonna make you lose it, Daddy."

Marc *screams*.

And Ryan keeps going.

Fucking him deeper. Harder. Right to the edge.

---

Ryan can *feel* it--the way Marc's body starts to twitch, tighten, his breath hitching in those sharp, high little gasps that sound *so* close to breaking.

So he slows.

Not out of mercy. Out of *cruel reverence*.

Each thrust becomes deliberate, measured, grinding deep and slow like he's fucking his way into Marc's soul. Marc moans, desperate and trembling, his untouched cock flexing against his belly, throbbing at the edge.

"Please," he gasps. "Please, fuck--don't stop... don't *tease*--"

Ryan just smiles, hands sliding up Marc's body, exploring every inch. He gropes his chest with both palms, marveling at the heft, the heat, the way Marc *arches* into the touch.

"So fucking big," Ryan murmurs, thumbing across one nipple.

Marc *whines*.

Ryan leans down, lips ghosting over the other one, tongue flicking out to lap at the slick peak. Then he *suckles* it, soft but filthy, as his hips roll in slow, punishing thrusts.

"You gonna cum for me like this?" he whispers. "Just from my cock and these greedy tits?"

Marc nods frantically, eyes wide, mouth slack.

"Then let me *watch* you fall apart," Ryan growls.

And he keeps *grinding*. Slow. Deep. *Relentless.*

---

Ryan watches Marc writhe beneath him, body shaking, lips parted in helpless moans.

He leans down, lips brushing Marc's ear, voice low and *filthy*.

"You gonna shoot your load for me, Daddy?" he growls. "Gonna cream all over yourself while I *breed* your sloppy hole?"

Marc *screams*.

His whole body seizes up as Ryan drives in *deep*, cock grinding hard against that perfect spot. Marc's legs lock around Ryan's waist, heels digging in, hips jerking wildly as his back arches off the bed.

His throat is bared, head thrown back in pure, animal ecstasy.

And then he *cums*.

Untouched.

A thick rope of cum splashes across his chest, then another, and another--his whole body shuddering with it, breath ragged, moans echoing through the room.

Ryan watches in awe, still grinding through the aftershocks, cock twitching inside him.

Jesus Christ.

He really just--

I made him cum like that. Didn't even touch himself. He gave it to me.

A flush of pride and wonder blooms in Ryan's chest. I want this again. I want all of him.

"Fuck," he pants. "You're... fuck, Daddy, that was *so hot.*"

Marc doesn't answer.

He just lies there, ruined and radiant, cum dripping down his chest, smiling like a man who got *exactly* what he wanted.

---

Ryan only lasts a few more strokes.

Marc's legs stay locked around him, that freshly-spent, ruined body milking him from the inside. The sight of cum glistening across Marc's chest, the feeling of him twitching and gasping with every movement--it's *too much*.

Ryan groans, thrusts deep one last time, and *cums*.

Hard.

His hips jerk. His hands clutch at Marc's slick chest. He buries his face in the curve of Marc's neck, panting, grunting, filling him with hot spurts of cum that make Marc *moan* again, softer this time. Fucked-out and glowing.

Then Ryan *collapses*.

Right on top of him.

Both of them slick, heaving, sweaty. Cock still buried deep. Marc wraps his arms around him without a word, one hand sliding gently up and down Ryan's spine.

They stay there. Quiet. Spent.

The air thick with sex and satisfaction.

Marc kisses the side of Ryan's head, voice rough and warm.

"You really fucked me, pup."

Ryan just hums, too blissed out to speak.

And Marc smiles.

*Perfect.*

---

Marc wakes slowly.

Sunlight creeps through the blinds, casting warm lines across the sheets. The room smells like sleep and sweat and sex. His body aches in the best way--thighs sore, hole still loose, muscles humming from being bent and used.

And then he feels it.

A warm tongue lapping lazily at his chest.

Marc blinks, groggy, and glances down.

Ryan's there, curled half on top of him, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded with morning mischief. His mouth is pressed to Marc's pec, tongue circling one nipple, wet and slow.

Fingers slide lower. Teasing. Light. Just enough pressure to make Marc's cock twitch as Ryan gently toys with his ballsack.

Marc groans, voice still hoarse.

"You never stop, do you," he rasps, smirking.

Ryan just hums against his chest, lips curling.

"Didn't get enough of you last night," he mumbles.

Marc stretches, arms above his head, exposing more of his chest like an offering.

"Then take what you want, pup," he murmurs. "Daddy's not going anywhere."

Ryan just grins, eyes flicking lower.

And as Marc closes his eyes again, already half-hard and grinning, he can't help but think--*maybe this one's gonna stick around.*