Fisticuffs

"Max," Brixton whispered, his voice suddenly in his ear, his hot breath swirling around his closely trimmed mutton-chops. Max was slightly startled, but definitely aroused. "Max," Brixton repeated, circling his hand around the younger man's left wrist and pulling it up over his head. Silk ties replaced Brixton's hand around the joint. Max was unaware as his head swam with lust. "Max," Brixton said again, straddling the Irishman's torso, his still-clothed privates on the man's stomach. Brixton slid off of Max and onto the man's right side, repeating the process of binding his lover's wrists to the black silk sashes attached securely to the posts of the bed. Max went to touch Brixton's face and became acutely aware that he was now bound.

Panic set in and he struggled in earnest. Brixton positioned himself astride Max and held him arms reassuringly. He bent at the waist and kissed the younger man once again. Max was comforted by the gesture. When he felt he had calmed the redhead enough, Brixton slid off of the bed entirely and went to a mirrored vanity in the corner and pulled out a small glass bottle of olive oil. Max watched him crawl back onto the foot of the bed, his grey eyes fixated on his hardness as Brixton lubed up his fingers copiously with the oil. Max felt his slick fingers caress his painfully erect cock and tight balls. His fingers trailed down to his tight hole and spread more oil there. Max clenched his buttocks reflexively, but Brixton was patient, continuing to trace the wrinkled edge.

Adding a few more drops of oil, he pressed his index finger against Max's tense arsehole and with a bit of insistence, it slid past and penetrated the young man. Max groaned at the invasion, ashamed at the pleasure it caused him. Max was surprised as Brixton's other hand wrapped around his hard member and began to stroke him. The finger in his arse slipped in and out easily, the older man building a languid rhythm of fucking and stroking. It wasn't long before Max's climax came washing over him, jets of creamy white spunk shooting onto his own chest.

Max was ashamed at his wantonness. Ashamed at how easily the older man had such sway over him. Ashamed of the control he held. Brixton sat with his finger still deep inside the Irishman. He pulled out slowly and Max thought the ordeal was over. Much to his shock, Brixton only meant to lubricate his fingers more before slipping his first digit back in between his butt-cheeks. Max wriggled, sensitive from his recent orgasm. Then he felt Brixton press another finger to his tight hole and before he could protest, he was penetrated by both his index and middle fingers. He felt stretched and full but incredibly stimulated. Brixton smiled coyly as he fucked his partner with now two fingers.

It wasn't long before a third finger was added and Max could feel his once again erect cock dribbling pre-cum onto his already soiled stomach. Brixton knew his lover was ready. He stood and removed his drawers, the flannel pooling on the floor at his feet. His hard cock sprang forth, freed from the confining cotton. The mustachioed man grabbed the bottle of oil and applied a small stream to his long cock, spreading it over all eight inches. Brixton stalked forward, his greased cock slipping between Max's cheeks, sliding in the valley but not yet penetrating the young man. Brixton pointed the head of his cock at his lover's tight entrance and smiled.

Brixton sought purchase in his lover's rear, pushing slowly and gently but insistently inside the redhead's arse. Max panted and groaned at the invasion, but Brixton had prepared him well and there was only mild discomfort as he buried himself to the hilt. The darker man had to catch his breath as he sat there, his member wrapped in the velvet vice that was Max's behind. He wanted to make this moment last forever. The lad's virginity was his and a sadistic smile crept over his face.

Looking down at the boy beneath him, his arms bound above his head, his vulnerable body glossy with sweat, chest heaving with a mixture of pleasure and pain, Brixton couldn't control the feelings that welled up inside him. He wanted to take the boy, to make him his property, his wanton whore. His strong hands glided over the tender flesh on Max's stomach and sought out the hard nipples on his chest. With deft movements, he seized both nubs simultaneously and tweaked them viciously. Max's breath caught in his throat as his back arched, trying to avoid the pain.

Brixton enjoyed his rough treatment and the response it elicited from his young charge. He released the abused flesh and wrapped his large hands around the young boy's waist. He pulled his cock out until just the head remained inside and, thrusting his hips, he slipped into his lover. Instincts took over as he plowed over and over into his tight depths.

Max felt violated and liberated all at once. Full, yet empty. Loved, yet detested. Cum trickled continuously from his erect cock. His abused nipples craved more torture. His ass relished in the act of sodomy. Brixton's cock hit places so deep inside him, places that nearly sent him over the edge. He knew with one touch to his cock he would erupt once more, spilling more of his seed onto his stomach. He looked up at Brixton, the darker man's face awash with his own pleasure, his mouth an 'O', his eyes closed tightly. Max wanted more and lifted his legs, placing them on his lover's shoulder, allowing for deeper penetration. Brixton groaned at the new position and dug his nails deeper into the flesh of Max's waist and ass, fucking him with wild abandon.

"Oh god!" Brixton uttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his usual decorous nature gone. He was an animal. A lusting, rutting animal. Max begged silently for one touch. One touch. He would do it himself if he weren't bound. One touch. Brixton's back arched, waves of orgasm crashing over him. His hand moved seemingly of it's own accord and oiled fingers wrapped tightly around Max's cock. One touch. Max shot like a cannon from his organ as he could feel Brixton filling his rear with his own cum. They both moaned. They were spent and slumped over in orgasmic bliss.

"I love you, Roman," Brixton said, using the Irishman's nickname from the ring.

"I... I love you too, Brixton," Max replied. He knew he loved the man, but hesitated, reluctant to admit it. Brixton slid his softening member from Max's ass and crawled up to hold his still bound lover. Brixton held him tighter than the silk ties ever could and drifted off to sleep, followed shortly after by the redhead.