He didn’t say anything when he sat on my chest. Just reached back and ground his ass against my face like I belonged there.
Didn’t matter—he was going to make me thank him either way.
His thighs were thick, sweat-slicked. He hadn’t showered since gym. I could smell that before I even got a taste. That rank, tangy scent of hours-old grind and body heat, soaked into his boxers and smeared across my lips when he wiggled against my mouth.
“You know your place now, don’t you?” he said, voice casual, cocky. Like he wasn’t smothering me in stink and power.
Pressed my tongue right into the seam of his crack until he grunted.
“Fuck, you’re gross,” he muttered. “Didn’t even have to tell you to do that, huh?”
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His musk was in my brain, under my skin. Every inhale dragged me deeper, every grind of his hips pushed me closer to the edge.
Lined up without a warning.
I felt his breath against my neck. Hot. Smug.
“Open that hole, freak. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”
His cock sank into me like it belonged there—like my hole had been shaped over weeks just to take his. No warning. No gentle prep. Just spit, pressure, and that low growl in my ear as he bottomed out.
“Goddamn,” he breathed. “You trained for this, didn’t you?”
I whimpered beneath him, cheeks burning, hole clenching tight around his length. He didn’t move right away—just held me there, split wide, stuffed full, letting the weight of his body press me deeper into the mattress like I was nothing more than a sleeve.
“Bet you fingered yourself to the smell of my socks, didn’t you?” he taunted. “Sniffed the crotch of my gym shorts like a good little bitch. Just praying I’d finally notice you.”
I tried to nod—tried to admit it—but all I could do was moan, head fuzzy, throat tight, body already trembling.
Slow at first. Cruel. Deep.
Each motion dragged his scent across my back, his chest over mine, his cock rubbing every nerve inside me like it was scraping away who I was and replacing it with only him.
“Gonna fuck my smell into you,” he growled. “Make your hole stink like me. So the next guy you whimper for knows you’ve already been claimed.”
It wasn’t pain—it was overwhelm. The stretch, the voice, the full-body dominance pressing me down, grinding into my hole like it was a punishment.
And then he leaned down, hand under my chin, twisting my face up to his.
He pulled a small bottle from the nightstand.
“You wanna feel everything?” he whispered.
I didn’t even have to answer.
I inhaled deep—eyes rolling back as my head spun, his cock buried in me, balls slapping, voice snarling in my ear.
“Good fucking pup. Now take it.”
Because I wanted to smell like him from the inside out.
He didn’t stop when he came.
Just shoved in deep, hips locked, cock pulsing inside me like a loaded weapon. My whole body tensed—hole clenching, brain blanking, drool slipping from the corner of my mouth as I felt it.
His load poured into me like he was filling a container. Not a lover. Not a boy.
He stayed buried for a while, chest heaving, forehead pressed to the back of my neck.
“You feel that?” he murmured. “You feel how full you are?”
I nodded, barely breathing.
He pulled out—slow, dragging every inch—and I twitched when I felt the first dribble of his cum slip down my thigh.
He rolled me onto my back, straddled my chest, and peeled off his jockstrap. It was damp. Yellowed. The band stretched and fraying. It smelled like him—days of wear soaked into every thread. He balled it up and pressed it to my face.
Instant heat. Instant need. My cock throbbed, untouched, aching like I’d been edge-trained for weeks. The jock didn’t just smell like him—it tasted like him. And I licked it like it was communion.
Then grabbed my face with one hand and slapped my cock once with the other.
“You cum in this,” he said. “Not before.”
I gasped. “Please—please, I can’t—”
He shoved the jock down my face, over my mouth, and wrapped it around my head like a gag. I could still smell. Still taste. Still breathe through it.
He gripped my cock, just once—tight, rough—and stroked hard.
“Now. Do it. Mark my jock with your freak need.”
I exploded—hot, fast, helpless—moaning into his scent, my cum splashing up my chest, soaking the fabric gagged between my teeth. He didn’t let go until I was twitching, leaking, broken.
Then he kissed my forehead.
And left me there—naked, dripping, ruined—with his jock still tied around my face.
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