Ben could have dominated his bully, Adam.
His phone sat heavy against his thigh in his pocket. Just one tap, one flash of the deep-web frequency that had glazed Adam's eyes over a month ago, and he could have made the wrestling captain be the one to drop to his knees instead.
Ben let his palms rest flat against the cold, damp grit of the bathroom tile as a heavy hand cracked across his jaw.
The sting flared hot, snapping his head to the side and making his vision swim. He didn't reach for his pocket. He just shifted his knees wider.
"Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you," Adam snarled.
"Sorry," Ben whispered. He tilted his chin up, his eyes watering from the slap, completely vulnerable. "I'm looking."
Thick fingers fisted into Ben's hair, yanking his scalp backward until his neck locked. Adam’s broad chest was heaving, the cramped stall suffocatingly thick with the sharp smell of cheap locker-room deodorant and heavy, musky sweat.
"You think you're so smart?" Adam growled, his voice dripping with the exact same arrogant disgust he used in the hallways. "You think you're better than me? You're nothing. Just a fucking toilet for me to use."
Adam snapped his hips forward.
The invasion was blunt, snapping Ben's jaw wider than it wanted to go. Ben gagged, a sharp whine tearing from his nose as the thick, dark-veined cock punched the soft back of his throat. But his jaw didn't fight the stretch. Four weeks of this exact daily punishment had trained his muscles to yield to the impossible girth. His throat relaxed, opening up as he eagerly swallowed down the bitter, salty taste of pre-cum and raw alpha male.
Adam dragged himself back until just the head rested past Ben's lips, denying him the depth. "Tell me what you are to me, freak."
Ben’s breath hitched. He reached up, his trembling hands gripping Adam's thick, muscular thighs—not to push him away, but to anchor himself. He stared up at the bully, his voice a wet, desperate rasp. "A loser. I'm just your... your fucking mouthpiece, Adam."
"Damn right," Adam sneered, slamming his free hand against the stall door for leverage. "You don't get to speak unless it's to choke on my dick."
He drove his hips forward, burying himself raw. The heavy, wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the damp walls, delivering a beating. Every harsh curse, every rough jerk of his hair, sent a fresh surge of heavy heat straight to Ben's gut. His own cock was completely ignored, throbbing painfully against the denim of his jeans.
Ben’s fingers dug into the athlete's legs. He desperately pulled the bully deeper, taking every bruising inch. "Please," Ben whimpered around the thick shaft, saliva running down his chin. "Use it... wreck my mouth..."
"Fucking pathetic," Adam groaned, though the insult was beginning to fray at the edges.
The intense friction was melting the bully's tough-guy facade. His stance widened, his knees visibly shaking as his thrusts turned frantic and completely ravenous. He was bottoming out now, burying himself to the root, the thick base smearing spit and sweat across Ben's chin.
"Taking it all like a good little bitch," Adam choked out, his spine bowing sharply. A jagged, guttural grunt tore out of his throat as his hips locked forward. "Swallow my fucking mess, loser—fuck!"
He pinned Ben’s head entirely immobile against his groin, thick, scalding ropes of cum shooting straight down Ben’s windpipe. Ben convulsed, his eyes rolling back as his throat worked instinctively, forced to gulp down wave after heavy wave of the athlete's release. He couldn't breathe, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer, metallic volume and the crushing, terrifying weight of the man holding him down.
When the last tremor finally faded, Adam dragged himself out with a wet, sloppy pop. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving violently, clumsily shoving his softening dick back into his jeans with shaking fingers. His eyes were dark, his posture wrecked by his own exertion, but he still managed a sneer.
"Clean yourself up," Adam muttered coldly, turning and shoving the stall door open with a loud thud. "And keep your fucking eyes on the floor tomorrow."
Ben stayed exactly where he was left, collapsed on his hands and knees on the gritty floor. He coughed, a thick string of white dripping from his bruised, swollen lips onto the tile.
"Yes, Adam," Ben breathed to the empty room, tasting the lingering salt on his tongue. "Whatever you want."
