The Offer 2 (mm hypno)

Disclaimer: The naked hypnotist strides confidently into your room. His lips curl in what might be a smile as he dangles his shiny crystal pendulum before your eyes and announces, “Listen and obey. If you are not of legal age, or if you offended by sexual situations, you will leave this place immediately. From here on, no matter how autobiographical it may seem, everything will seem like fiction to you, a pleasant dream where scientific possibilities and laws may change according to my suggestion. Now, if you are willing, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

Copyright © 2012 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of “Adult Verification”) is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can’t use this without the express permission of (and payment to) the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

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The second and third days were similar. Jack knocked on the Doctor’s door and was told to have a seat. He kicked off his freshly washed sneakers before he sat back and listened to the Doctor talk him through a walk into the deep, peaceful woods. The Doctor snapped his fingers to awake him some time later. Jack bent and picked up his discarded shirt from the floor without really remembering when he had taken it off.

On the third day, Jack’s birthday, Ike made a big production over giving Jack’s ass a spank at breakfast and wishing him “Happy Legality,” which made Jack laugh. Dylan was working a double shift at the police station, which meant Jack would not see him until late—disappointing, since Jack was finally legal and wanted to push the flirtation with Dylan into sexual play, hoping Dylan would relieve him of the burden of virginity. But at dinner Ike and the other roommates minus Dylan presented Jack with a birthday cake, new clothes—“Because I’m already tired of seeing you wearing either that one shirt or that old sweatshirt,” Ike announced—and a dildo as a joke gift. In case Jack wanted to practice, Jeff clarified, and they all laughed.

Dylan arrived home late, exhausted from his double shift, and went directly to his bedroom, pausing only to tell Ike he had eaten dinner out of a vending machine at the station and was not hungry. Given how health-conscious Dylan was about his diet, Ike made a big production out of fearing for the end of the world over this, which made everyone laugh except for Dylan, who excused himself and disappeared into his bedroom.

Jack waited what he thought was a discreet few minutes, then excused himself to go to bed. Instead of his bedroom, though, Jack went to Dylan’s door and softly knocked.

Dylan opened the door. He was shirtless, still in his uniform pants.

“Can I, uhm, come in?” Jack asked, in what he thought was his most seductive tone of voice.

“Jack, I’m sorry I missed your birthday dinner, but I need to get some sleep. Good night.” Dylan was already closing the door.

“Okay, sure,” Jack said, angry and embarrassed from Dylan’s rebuke, and slunk off to his own bedroom.

Jack sat down on the edge of his bed. Had he misread the situation with Dylan? Was Dylan not interested in him sexually after all? Or was he really just tired?

Jack lay back on his bed. He was suddenly tired himself. Very tired, in fact. He closed his eyes and saw the woods around him, the sun-dappled green leaves barely waving in the softest of breezes. Yes. So peaceful and calm here. Jack smiled and stood up and continued his walk down the path.

As he entered the clearing, his shirt came unbuttoned. Had he done that? The shirt flapped at his ribs as it slipped off and fell away. Had he done that? The grass, the moss—the clearing looked so comfortable and inviting. Jack took off his shoes and socks. Yes, he loved the feel under his bare feet. Sunlight shined down bright as stage lights, but it did not interrupt the peaceful calm. Instead, its bright warmth relaxed him even more. He wanted to warm himself. He popped open his jeans, unzipped, and pushed them and his briefs to his ankles. His feet slid free, and he was naked. Naked in the middle of the clearing, in the middle of the peaceful, calm woods. Naked in the sunlight, as birds with eyes like cameras—no, just ordinary chirpy birds—watched him and sang their relaxing song just for him. Naked, relaxed, and so very horny.

His cock hardened and felt great. He sank down into the grass and moss and touched his cock, wrapped his hand around it. The birds watched closely. Jack stroked himself. From somewhere came the idea to finger his ass, something he had seen in porn videos online but had never before done to himself. He ran a spit-wet finger over his asshole as he stroked his cock, then poked the finger inside. It all felt so great. His balls zip-zapped that familiar sensation, and he poked the finger in deeper. It felt so nasty, so dirty in a good way, and suddenly he was cumming and cumming and cumming. Jack came until his balls were empty. He sagged into the grass and moss and let them swallow him into their comforting depths.

Jack became aware of a rolling motion. He forced his eyes open. He was cradled in Dylan’s arms, against his bare chest. The larger man carried Jack easily up the stairs in the dark house. Jack smiled and closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Dylan’s chest.


Jack opened an eye. Saturday morning—yes, he remembered. The day after his birthday. The day after Dylan rejected him. He felt his new life had begun yesterday morning and ended yesterday evening. Jack rolled over under the soft sheets, ignoring his morning hard-on, and decided he did not want to face anyone. What if Dylan had told them all? What if they were laughing at him right then, the silly stupid “new dude” kid who thought he could play grown-up games just because he was magically one day older and legal. He climbed out of bed to empty his nagging bladder but got back under the covers afterward. No, Jack decided the only safe thing to do was to sleep in.

But somebody knocked at his bedroom door. Ike called through it, “It’s time for your session.”

“Ugh,” Jack protested at the thought of having to get out of bed, but he yelled at the door, “Okay,” to let Ike know he had heard. The Doctor. Jack had to get up and go talk to the Doctor. Dylan was right—the daily hypnosis was just part of the routine, like brushing his teeth.

Jack climbed out of bed. He was naked, naked and erect. He picked up that familiar pair of sweatpants and slipped them on, careful to tuck his hard-on inside gently. Surely the Doctor would not mind if he showed up in just his sweatpants. Jack would be going back to sleep after his session—minimal clothing would make stripping down for bed again easier. Besides, he had seen Ike go into sessions wearing only his jockstrap.

“Ah, Jack, right on time,” the Doctor greeted him, as he shuffled still sleep-groggy into the office. “It’s good to be on time, isn’t it? You know how I hate waiting. And you’re even a couple of minutes early. Eager, aren’t you? Well, after your screen test last night, I think you’re ready.”

Jack yawned. Screen test? He did not understand what the Doctor meant, but he said what always worked with his father: “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s get to it. This way,” the Doctor said, and led Jack not to the chair, but to a door on the opposite side of his office. He ushered Jack through.

The large room was separated into quadrants, each in a different theme. One had lockers and benches and looked like the locker rooms Jack remembered from school gym class. Another, the one to which the Doctor guided him, was done up as a bedroom: a bed, a nightstand.

Jack walked over to the bed and sat down. It seemed vaguely familiar. A camera watched him. No, not a camera—a bird—a bird with eyes like a camera. He yawned a second time, suddenly so sleepy all over again, and felt everything slide into place. He leaned back on the bed—no, not a mattress—a mossy, grassy clearing. Stage lights—no, sunlight—shone down on him. Jack grinned at the bird, sharing his secret place.

His sweatpants seemed out of place, so he pushed them off. Naked. Better. Yes. Relaxing. Sexy. Horny. Hard. Yes. Hard-on. Jack leaned back on the moss and stroked his cock under the sunlight. The bird leaned in for a closer look. Jack got up on his knees, putting on a show for the bird, and reached back to finger his asshole. The bird watched it all. Jack gasped, and his body bucked, and he stopped a second before he would have ejaculated. No, he told himself, mustn’t cum so soon, not yet.

Dylan was there. Jack smiled. Dylan had never visited this special clearing in the deep, peaceful woods with him before, but Jack was glad to see him. Dylan came closer. He wore only a pair of shorts. Jack liked looking at Dylan’s muscular chest and legs, the way they shown under the sunlight. Jack grinned, naked and brazen and proud to display himself for Dylan too.

Dylan looked down at Jack. Jack reached for him. Dylan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and dropped them. Now Dylan was as naked as Jack, and Jack realized that was good, so very good. Seeing Dylan naked for the first time was like his every fantasy coming true. Jack reached for Dylan’s semi-erect dick. His hand wrapped around it. He had been right: Dylan had a big one. Jack stroked it slowly, fascinated by the feel of it, the first cock he had ever touched other than his own. It swelled as he stroked it, becoming fully stiff.

Jack pulled Dylan toward him by his rod. He wanted to make love to this gorgeous man who had so much to teach him, and he wanted to be made love to, too. Dylan sank down onto the yielding moss with him. Jack did not know what to do next, other than the basic mechanics he had seen in videos, so he was happy when Dylan took the lead. They lay back on the ground, and Dylan bent over Jack’s face and kissed him, deeply, slowly, lingering. Dylan aligned their bodies to maximize the pressure of their hard dicks rubbing up against each other.

Jack allowed Dylan to caress him while they kissed. He allowed Dylan to kiss along his jaw and nibble at his ear. “More,” Jack muttered as he squirmed under Dylan’s hands and mouth. When Dylan moved his head lower, kissing Jack’s neck and throat, Jack arched his back in pleasure, as the warm sun beat down on them and the birds strained for a better look.

“Guh!” Jack gasped. Dylan’s hand had moved lower to sketch around his hard nipple, pulling on the nub, twisting gently. Lightning traveled straight to Jack’s dick, and he could not form a coherent sentence. His own hands were not moving, but gripped the grass below them. He groaned again as Dylan’s confident hand moved lower, twisting into the curly pubes at the base of Jack’s dick.

Dylan’s dick rubbed at Jack’s hip, thrusting hard against him. Jack was so close to orgasming here under this warm sunlight—Dylan’s hand pulling, twisting, searching at the base of Jack’s erection, Dylan’s teeth now on Jack’s nipple, a bite, a suckle, marking Jack’s flesh as Dylan’s, owning him. It was the most erotic thing Jack had ever felt, Dylan naked and moving against him, and an orgasm was building in Jack’s balls, his cock, the base of his spine.

Crap!—He was going lose it too quickly, but he was so relaxed he could barely form words: “Please ... slow ... gonna ...”

Dylan seemed more coherent. “I need to see you shoot it.”

“Gon’ ... cum ...”

“That’s right. Cum for me, Jack.” Dylan nipped at Jack’s nipple again.

Jack lost his fight to hold back. White heat made lightning-bolt runs from his crotch down to his toes and up to his head. He arched up into Dylan and ejaculated.

Jack sank back into the soft, comforting grass and moss. The intensity of his orgasm had left him incapable of thought or motion. His cock twitched against his stomach. His nipples burned softly from Dylan using them to push him so damn high so damn fast. Bliss, he decided.

“Gorgeous,” Dylan said simply, then tilted his head in for a kiss. Dylan groaned low in his throat, their tongues mingling, urgent, insistent. Their tongues battled for taste and touch as Jack became more confident, pushing hard against Dylan’s hard thrusts in his mouth—a fight for control. These acts—the naked need and the trust in them—excited Jack and scared him equally, but this clearing was a safe, peaceful place. He relaxed and enjoyed the feel of Dylan pushing his groin roughly against his, pushing for friction.

Dylan’s mouth and hands felt hungry against Jack’s skin, all searching lips lowered to nipples, and hands pulling and teasing, all of it drawing whimpers and moans from Jack’s blissed-out throat.

“Dylan ...” he mumbled happily, meaning to say more but not able to form his gasps into words.

“So gorgeous,” Dylan was saying, “so hot, taste so good,” interspersed with kisses and bites. The press of Dylan’s mouth and hands and body against Jack’s anchored him, kept him from drifting into the depths. Jack managed to move his hand, dropping across Dylan’s hair.

Jack saw Dylan’s erection hard and flush against his stomach. “Dylan,” he whimpered, meaning: Give me your cock. He was not begging, not yet, but he wanted it so much, wanted to taste what he had only touched before. He tried to speak, tried to push out words, but nothing made sense. Jack melted against the moss, a sigh escaping his mouth, his hand caressing Dylan’s hair. Just saying Dylan’s name left him gasping, moaning, asking for everything, incoherent, and out of his head with pleasure.

Dylan’s mouth was lower now, sliding along Jack’s renewed erection. Dylan hollowed his cheeks, alternatively sucking and moving and releasing. Jack decided it felt a hundred—no, a thousand—times better than he could have imagined. He sensed his body moving, on instinct, unconsciously tipping his pelvis, thrusting deeper into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan pulled back slightly as his gag reflex kicked in. The next time he was ready for Jack, and he held Jack’s hips, held him down so Jack could not move, held him down with both hands while his lips traveled along Jack’s dick, pushing up as his lips traveled down, wringing every ounce of pleasure from Jack’s body. One of Dylan’s hands disappeared, and Jack hoped Dylan was jacking himself off, giving himself the pleasure that Jack was too limp to perform, to match the pleasure Dylan’s mouth was giving Jack.

Dylan strangled a moan around Jack’s cock-shaft, a warning, and Jack felt his lover’s body tense, trying to pull back, and he pulled off. Jack moaned, hearing and feeling an answering release from Dylan, a gasp, a groan, a sigh, and Dylan’s dick spitting cum hot and hard against Jack’s leg. Dylan slumped against Jack, gasping for breath in the afterglow. This was, Jack decided, the hottest thing he had ever felt in his life.

Jack was malleable and shaking in Dylan’s control, under Dylan’s body still pressed so tightly against him. Dylan’s lips dragged final, breathless kisses, against Jack’s hip.

“So fucking hot,” Dylan whispered fiercely.

“Dih—l’nnnn ...,” was all Jack could get out.

At first, everything was nothing more than kissing, lazy and undefined, with no purpose other than to taste, to tease, and Jack started to relax under Dylan. When the kisses became deeper and more urgent, they felt like a natural progression, and when Dylan was sucking on his nipples, lapping at them with his tongue and scratching his teeth across them, it was heaven. Jack felt his cock twitch and tingle.

Dylan pulled aside and rolled Jack face-down on the moss. Dylan seemed to want to take this slow, but the urgency Jack felt had him squirming beneath the larger man, grinding his boner against the rough grass beneath him. Dylan’s kisses hunted for the taste of Jack’s skin, stopping every so often to suck more small marks of possession, murmuring how hot Jack was, as Dylan pressed his arm across Jack’s hips to hold him still.

Jack felt Dylan slather lube between his ass cheeks. Was he using enough? Too much? Worry tugged at Jack’s thoughts, but a deep breath of the fresh air all around them helped him relax. The worry and tension slipped away, replaced by complete trust in his lover. Was that Dylan’s finger in his ass?—Please let it be a finger. Those fingers drove in, all sizzling stretches and perfect pressure. The prostate; Jack remembered the name from a gay sex education primer he read online without his parents knowing. Wasn’t it supposed to be tricky to find sometimes? How had Dylan’s fingers managed to dive right for it? There was some pain, a weird sensation of fullness, but also growing pleasure. No way—no fucking way was Jack cumming so soon, with nothing but fingers up his ass. Shit!—How could he feel this good and not shoot? How could there be so much pleasure spilling over through his body without it spilling out his dick? Dylan’s fingers felt burning-hot, sliding, stretching, twisting, massaging the gland inside Jack’s ass that sent his head flying skyward.

Jack felt himself demanding, whimpering, moaning, and pleading for more. Dylan’s hands seemed rough yet finessed at the same time, never pausing, never uncertain, all eagerness to answer Jack’s needs. Damn, Jack wondered, how is it Dylan knows my body so well and it’s our first time? He decided this was the advantage of having an experienced lover. Jack moaned Dylan’s name into the moss beneath him, appreciatively.

Dylan pulled his fingers out. Jack looked over his shoulder; he watched Dylan roll on a condom with practiced ease, watched Dylan press the head of his cock against the loosened muscle between Jack’s ass cheeks, holding Jack down to prevent him from squirming. Jack wanted to see everything as Dylan pushed at his legs again for better access and inched his way in, pulling back, pushing in, until at last he rested inside Jack’s hole, inside his body.

Dylan seemed to be watching him for a sign, Jack decided, any indication of pain. Jack felt some pain from being entered, but he wanted this, wanted to be a virgin no longer, wanted Dylan to make a man out of him. He moaned, hoping Dylan would interpret that as permission. Dylan took the decision away from him, pushing down, his eyes glassy, groaning too, and Dylan moved, leaning down to kiss Jack’s neck as he set a fuck-rhythm that made Jack’s head fly again.

Jack did not want to cum yet. He wanted Dylan to take his pleasure, to take his ass and own it. Jack had never seen anything as beautiful as this man moving above him, so beautiful Jack could hardly breathe.

Dylan rolled Jack over, onto his back, hoisted Jack’s over his shoulders. Leaning forward, one hand anchored on each of Jack’s arms just below the shoulder, Dylan held him pinned to the ground. Jack wrapped his legs around Dylan’s neck. He needed touch, craved touching and being touched. He wanted to touch Dylan’s chest hovering above him. He wanted to touch his own cock. He wanted so much. He wanted everything. The motion of Dylan fucking his ass felt awkward and perfect at the same time. Dylan seemed to sense Jack’s need, because he pulled one hand back, gripped Jack’s erection, and jacked it as he buried himself impossibly deeper in Jack’s ass, then pulled out until only the tip of him remained inside the dark, tight heat. Every pass of Dylan’s dick inside his ass made Jack groan and arch his neck, desiring and fearing the ecstasy at the same time, wanting the penetration, wanting to be owned, fearing the climax building in his balls.

“Close ... fuck ...” Jack tried to get a warning sentence together, failed, but then came the warmth of his jizm spurting out of his cock, coating Dylan’s sliding, gliding hand as Jack’s orgasm stiffened his body and made him shout his release. Dylan would not, could not, stop and bowed his head to touch his forehead to Jack’s, his spine stiff, trembling, his breathing ragged. At the last moment, he pulled his cock from Jack’s asshole, tugged the condom efficiently off his dick, and hand-whacked his meat until he shot hard across Jack’s stomach and chest, shuddering through his pleasure. Jack had never seen another man’s penis erupt in real life before. He decided he liked it. Dylan tilted his head a bit and they kissed.

Jack stayed still momentarily. He had many words in his head, but none that he could make his mouth form. Dylan pulled away, lowered Jack’s legs. He tossed the rubber aside. Dylan rolled onto his back alongside Jack, one arm over his eyes. “Fuck,” Dylan panted.

“Uhnnn,” was Jack’s best response because he was already closing his eyes and sinking into the darkness.


Jack surfaced from deep sleep one layer at a time: one eye opening, then both, then awareness, then consciousness. He sat up. He was in his bedroom, naked under the sheets. Alone. His body ached. His asshole burned. His dick and balls felt drained. What a fucking dream, he thought.

His stomach growled. He had really overslept. Carefully, he extracted himself from the sheets, stumbled into the bathroom to piss and shower. He pulled on his briefs, nothing else. No one would care—most of the men paraded around in less.

In the kitchen, Jack sat at the table, happily munching on his bowl of sugar-packed kids’ cereal. Ike walked in and passed around behind him on his way to the refrigerator. “Looking good today, baby,” Ike said, trailing a fingertip across Jack’s bare shoulders as he passed, and Jack blushed. As usual, Ike wore a jockstrap and nothing else. He pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and took a swallow. “That was some show you put on this morning.”


“Yeah. The Doctor showed me some of the footage. He’s really pleased. Says you’re a natural. I knew you would be.”

Jack did not know what Ike meant, but he did not want to seem ignorant. He said, “Can I see?”

“Sure, baby.”

Ike led him to the computer in the utility room. At the desk, Ike clicked a few icons and a media player window opened. “I’ve still got some editing to do so it’s still kind of raw in spots, but trust me—the subscribers are gonna go ape-shit when they see you, baby.”

The player displayed a glowing white message that said the website viewers were about to see a just-turned-eighteen first timer lose his male-male virginity onscreen to one of their fan favorites. Then the scene itself began to play.

Onscreen, in what looked like a bland suburban bedroom, a cute blond boy wearing nothing but sweatpants walked over to a bed. Jack thought: That’s me.

After the blond was naked, a dark-haired man in shorts joined him. Jack thought: That’s Dylan.

Jack thought: That’s us—but it didn’t happen in a bedroom—it happened in a forest, with a clearing, and birds, and sunlight.

His stomach knotted as he realized: No, the Doctor only made me think it happened in a forest.

“How many subscribers did you say?” Jack asked, as he watched himself orgasm while Dylan chewed at his nipple.

“Not sure. I don’t get involved in that part. Enough to pay for us living here, I guess. When this scene gets posted, they’re gonna eat you up, baby, and still be hungry for more.”

“When does it get posted?”

“Tomorrow, after I’m done editing it.”

Jack felt ... uneasy—no, nauseous—fascinated—repulsed—too many things at once. He was unsure how to classify what he was feeling, but he knew he did not like it. “Where’s Dylan?”

But Jack was already stomping off and barely heard Ike say, “Out.”

Dylan wasn’t in his room. Jack went to the Doctor’s door and knocked. He tried the knob. Locked.

“What’s wrong, baby? The Doctor isn’t here. He’ll be back later. You already had your session this morning, remember?”

“I want you to delete that footage—right now!”

“But why, baby? You’re gonna be a star. Besides, this is just a copy for editing. There’re masters and backups nobody but the Doctor can get to.”

“Then you don’t touch that footage until I talk to the Doctor.”

“Uh, no can do, baby. I’ve got a deadline if that scene’s going online tomorrow.”

“Fuck!” Jack stormed upstairs to get dressed. He was going to find the police station and find Dylan. Dylan would know what to do.


When Jack burst out of his room, fully dressed now except for his thin coat still hanging in the foyer, from the top of the stairs he saw Dylan and Ike huddled in conference. Dylan was still dressed for the frigid weather, coat on, though he had already shed his snow-covered boots. They looked up as Jack trampled down the stairs.

Dylan pushed a grocery bag at Ike and intercepted Jack at the foot of the stairs, blocking his way with one hand on the rail and the other against the wall. Dylan asked, “Where are you going?”

“Well, I was going to the police station to find you.”

“I’m not working today. I have the day off after that double shift yesterday. I’m gonna watch the game on television with the guys. I went to the grocery store for healthy snacks. You know the kind of crap these guys eat. I wanted to make sure there’s things I can eat too.”

Jack tried to push past, but Dylan’s hand on the rail never shifted. “Uhm, you can let me by.”

“No. Not ’til you talk to me, Jack.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“No, but I want you to stay. You’re entitled to another night, and you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“He had no right to film me—us—I didn’t—He had no fucking right—”

Dylan’s interruption was quiet. “Look, Jack, I wanted more than anything for your first time to be special. I know you wanted it to be with me, and believe me, I’m honored. And if I hadn’t been so exhausted last night, I’d have tried everything in my power to give you the best first time possible. But ... Well, shit happens. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want, and all I can say is I’m sorry, and I want you to stay.”


“Oh, for the love of—” Ike pushed his way under Dylan’s arm and confronted Jack. “Listen, baby, Dylan’s right. You know he is. Sometimes something happens and you just have to live with it. You just gotta put one foot in front of the other until you get past it. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. None of us want you to be upset, and I bet you don’t really want it either. It’s easy to calm down. Just take a second. Take a deep breath”—Ike inflated his chest so Jack would follow along—“and close your eyes, and imagine yourself taking that first step on the trail into that peaceful forest you know so well. You know how easy it is.”

“Ike ...,” Dylan growled.

Jack blinked. Fuck! he swore at himself. He had almost done exactly what Ike said—had almost imagined himself taking that first step and felt a little downward tug on his thoughts. If he had taken that step along the path in his imagination, he would not have stopped. He pushed Ike away and ran back up the stairs, the only thing that he could think of to do.

He heard Dylan say, “Let him go,” as Jack reached the top and sprinted to his room.

His door had no lock, but Jack pushed the dresser and chair in front to barricade himself in. He balled himself on the bed and tried to think of a way out, someplace he could go. Anywhere but there. Maybe Dylan would come with him—they could leave together. Dylan would have some cash—they could get bus tickets to Jack’s distant cousin in another city. Maybe the cousin would let them stay until he and Dylan could find jobs. Or maybe Dylan had some savings and they could get an apartment. All of his plans involved Dylan agreeing to leave with him.

Dylan knocked on his door. “Jack? You okay in there? I’m sorry about Ike. You want to talk?”

Jack did not answer. Dylan eventually walked away.

Dylan returned later. “Jack? Ike’s really sorry. Me too. You want to come watch the game with us? It’s starting soon.” Dylan waited, but Jack’s only response was to clamp his eyes tighter. “Well ... okay. Come join us if you want. I got some of those cheese puffs you like.”

Moping isn’t getting me anywhere, Jack thought. While he was not much of a sports fan, in spite of his father requiring him to play sports before withdrawing him from school, Jack decided he would not mind watching the game with the others. Maybe he could get Dylan alone later, tell him his plan, convince Dylan to leave with him. After Jack’s outbursts, Dylan probably thought he was a petulant child. Spending time watching the game with them would prove Jack was mature, was making a good decision—the right decision. Dylan would have to see that. Dylan would have to leave with him.

Jack pushed his makeshift barricade away from the door. His socked feet made little sound as he walked down the hall. He heard the other men in the living room below yelling their disappointment as a player on television bungled a play.

He looked over the railing at them—Dylan, Jeff, and Greg on the couch, Ike in an adjoining chair. He liked these guys ... Maybe he should stay? Maybe Dylan was right and this was all a big misunderstanding. No—no, leaving was the right decision. The Doctor’s offer came with too many catches. If the other guys did not see that, Jack suspected he could say nothing to convince them, but he and Dylan had to leave.

The guys were hooting, and Jeff bellowed, “Oh, you fucker,” at the screen and threw a handful of the popcorn he was in the process of chewing. Ike kicked him and threatened to withhold dinners for a week unless Jeff cleaned up his mess after the game. Everybody laughed. Jack watched them from the top of the stair. He caught himself grinning; their horseplay was infectious.

The Doctor walked into the room. “Where’s Jack?”

“New dude’s upstairs being all pouty and stuff,” Jeff said around his latest half-chewed mouthful of popcorn.

The Doctor said, “Ah. Well, I can work with just the four of you.” He picked up one of the remote controls, pointed it toward the television and poked a few buttons.

Greg asked, “What’re you doing?”

“Recording the game for you. It’ll be waiting when you’re done. Right now, though, it’s time for your session.”

Greg said, “But—”

“It’s time for your session,” the Doctor said firmly. “You can watch the game later.”

“Yes, sir,” Greg and Jeff said as they and Ike stood up.

Yes, Jack thought, I should go downstairs for my session.

He caught himself just before his foot would have descended onto the first stair step. What am I doing? he swore at himself. Wait—what had Ike said through the door that morning when Jack wanted to sleep in? It’s time for your session. That had been when Jack realized he needed to go downstairs for his daily meeting with the Doctor? Session. The Doctor must have built some sort of post-hypnotic suggestion into that word, a compulsion.

Downstairs, Dylan said, “But I already ... this morning ...”

“A virile young man like you can easily handle more than one session per day, Dylan. You know that. In fact, you like having more than one session per day, don’t you. You want to be part of this session too, don’t you.” This was not a question.

Dylan stood. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Now come with me.”

Jack held back and watched. They walked toward the Doctor’s office. Jack waited—one minute, two—then crept down the stairs.

The door to the Doctor’s office was not shut completely. Jack peeked through the opening. The office light was on, but the office was empty. He heard voices from deeper inside. He crept across the office in his sock-feet. The opposite door was open. He remembered the four-part room. He knelt and edged his eye around the corner. In the quadrant done up like a locker room, Jeff, Greg, and Dylan wore blue and white basketball uniforms. Ike walked over, wearing a similar red and yellow uniform.

Based on what they were saying for the camera—Jack had a brief flash of it as a bird’s face, but told himself, forced himself to see it as, what it really was: a camera—the scene being enacted was basic. The guys in blue and white were part of the team that had just lost the big game to Ike’s team. Ike played a member of the winning team who unfortunately had chosen a locker too close to the losing team’s.

Jeff, Greg, and Dylan closed in around Ike, giving him grief over some foul that the referee had not caught and how it cost them the game. Ike was pushed back against the lockers.

“We should teach this cocksucker a lesson!” Jeff yelled.

“Yeah!” Greg hollered.

Ike put up a struggle that looked real at first and fake toward the end, and the others soon had him on his knees, his mouth first in the crotch of Greg’s shorts, then Jeff’s. Ike mouthed their erections through the material. Shirts came off, then shoes and socks and shorts and jockstraps. Cocks poked into Ike’s mouth—Greg’s, then Jeff’s, then Dylan’s.

Four naked bodies shifted, and Ike was on the locker room bench, on his back with his legs in the air. Greg and Dylan stroked themselves while Jeff fed his erection into Ike’s ass.

“Teach this fucker a lesson. Yeah! Fuckin’ teach his ass a lesson!” Greg snarled. He grabbed Ike’s head and pushed his dick into Ike’s mouth.

Greg and Jeff fucked Ike from both ends, while Dylan stood alongside and watched and stroked himself. Jack hoped Dylan was not joining in directly because he was being faithful to Jack, but that fantasy ended when Dylan pushed Greg out of the way and stuffed his dick into Ike’s gaping mouth.

Jack found himself erect, his cock stiff like steel in his jeans. He told himself it was the sex. Four hot guys having sex would make anyone hard, he decided, even if the four guys were not doing it of their own free will. He slowly, quietly unzipped his jeans and fished out his erection. He stroked it while he watched.

Greg, fucking Ike’s ass now, pulled out his cock and yanked off the condom with a snap and fast-jacked himself. His cum spurted out across Ike’s chest. Dylan pulled out of Ike’s mouth and grumbled deep in his chest and fired his load across Ike’s face and chest too.

Bodies moved. Greg and Dylan leaned against the lockers in the background, kissing and slowly exploring each others’ chests. Jeff bent over the bench, masturbating while Ike buried his face between Jeff’s ass cheeks. Rimming, Jack realized. He has seen it done in some porn scenes he downloaded, but had never thought he would see it in real life. Did guys really like having their tongues up other guys’ asses? It seemed dirty, but somehow fascinating too. Jack decided maybe he would like to try it sometime, if Dylan was into it.

Minutes later Ike was fucking Jeff doggy-style, while Jeff jerked himself off. Watching them, Jack felt his orgasm build. He bit his lower lip, an old trick to ensure he would climax quietly, and cupped one hand in front of his cockhead, ready, as he jacked with the other. He slowed down, not wanting to cum while there was still more to see.

Ike pulled out and came on Jeff’s back and ass cheek for the camera. Jeff rolled out on the bench on his back, and fisted his cock quickly. He gasped and shot his cum across his own chest.

Jack came too and caught his cum in the palm of his hand. He was practiced at leaving no evidence. He’d have to tuck away his softening penis and zip up later—first, he had to back out of there before somebody saw him.


Jack did not go back to his bedroom. Instead, after wiping his hand and discarding the paper towel in the trash can, for the first time in days—the first time since he had arrived—he put on his shoes and coat and went outside. He needed to think. Maybe the winter air would clear his head. Yes, a walk would be good—some exercise, some fresh air. He needed to think.

He had no plan. Dylan was obviously happy with living at the house. He would not run away with some barely eighteen punk he’d only know for a few days. Jack would need to convince him. But how? If Jack said no to the daily hypnosis and was forced to leave, would that shock Dylan out of his complacency? Would Dylan leave too?

The cold bit just as hard as he remembered through his thin coat. When Jack returned home—how many hours had passed?—he could barely feel anything, numbed by both the cold and his ongoing emotional short-circuit.

The front part of the house was dark. Had they gone to bed? Had they locked him out? Had they even noticed he was not inside? He tried the front door. It opened, and he said a little grateful prayer. He shut it silently and half-slithered, half-shivered silently out of his coat and snow-caked sneakers.

The living room and kitchen lights were off. The Doctor’s door was open, and his office was dark. The opposite door was open too, and light came from the adjoining room. He peeked. It was empty, the only light from another door on the far side. Jack heard nothing. This was the perfect time to do some snooping.

He started with the Doctor’s desk and computer. The computer was already on—no need to activate it and risk boot-up chimes—and the screen lit when he moved the cursor.

What he was looking for was easy to find. Obviously, the Doctor had no fear of exposure. Spreadsheets. Email. Accounts. Names, physical descriptions, lengths of time trained, special instructions given, dates of sale, current owners, amounts paid. Jack wondered whether he was understanding all of it correctly. Was the Doctor selling his hypnotized men to the highest bidders? The Doctor used them for his Internet sex site, then—maybe when they landed a rich fan, or maybe when they were no longer fresh meat—he placed them with a new “owner” for a substantial fee. The logs had close to three dozen names, ending with half-completed entries for Greg, Jeff, and Jack himself, half-completed because only the names and descriptions were filled in. Greg’s, though, had the cryptic message “pending” in the date of sale column.

Why were there no entries for Dylan or Ike?

He heard voices from the other room: Ike and the Doctor. Jack hid under the desk, hoping they wouldn’t notice the screen’s glow.

Ike said, “So how many will this give him?”

“Greg will be his third. The Sheik has been a very good customer. Greg is an excellent choice for him.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, sir. Once you finish transferring his obedience protocols to the Sheik, we’ll be ready to put him on a plane to meet his new owner.”

Obedience protocols? Jack did not like what that implied.

“Excellent. Good night, Ike.”

“Good night, sir.”

Ike came through the door, walked across the office, and disappeared into the house.

The Doctor never appeared. Instead, the light beyond those rooms went out as a door was shut. Jack waited five minutes, counting off the seconds—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—and then crept out of the Doctor’s office.

He had proof. Dylan had to believe him now. Dylan could have the Doctor arrested using the evidence Jack had found. They would be heroes.

Jack tiptoed in his socks up the stairs and into Dylan’s room, easing the door shut behind him.

Dylan was asleep. Jack turned on the bedside lamp, crouched beside the bed, and shook Dylan’s shoulder.

“Hey … Jack,” Dylan murmured, blinking away sleep and the sudden light.

“You gotta come downstairs and see this. The Doctor’s up to some seriously illegal shit. Bring your badge and your handcuffs—you’re gonna have to arrest him after you see this.”

“Mmm? What?”

“Seriously, like human trafficking and selling-people-into-slavery shit. Greg’s gonna be next.”

Dylan blinked and sat up. “What are you ...?” Then he looked at Jack and grinned.

“This isn’t funny!”

“No, I mean, what you’re wearing. I haven’t seen you wearing that much clothing since that first day I brought you here.”

Which was probably correct, Jack realized.

“Not the point. Be serious, Dylan. The Doctor’s up to some seriously illegal shit here. You gotta come see what I found on his computer before he erases it or hypnotizes you to forget it or something.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s how it works—”

“Just come with me and see for yourself.”

“Oh, all right. If it’ll help settle this once and for all ...” Dylan pushed back the covers and swung his feet to the floor. Jack stared at Dylan’s thick penis as Dylan retrieved a pair of boxer shorts and slid them on. Dylan was so beautiful—Jack considered instead pushing him onto the bed and kissing his chest and sucking his cock. “Well?” Dylan prompted, impatient. “Let’s go. Show me.”

At first, Jack thought Dylan was inviting him to indulge what he had been fantasizing, but then he realized what Dylan meant.

Jack led Dylan to the Doctor’s office. “It’s in here,” he said and led him through the door.

The lights came on. “And what are you two doing sneaking around in here in the dark?” the Doctor asked.

Surprised, Jack whirled his back to the Doctor and clamped his eyes shut and put his hand over Dylan’s. “Don’t look!” he cried, though he was not really sure what the Doctor was going to do. “He’s going to try to hypnotize you or something!”

“Uhm, Jack ...?” Dylan said, pushing at Jack’s hand. When Jack refused to let it budge, Dylan sighed and talked around it. “Sorry to disturb you so late, Doctor, but Jack thinks you’re up to illegal acts like human trafficking or something?”

“Nonsense. Everyone who stays or leaves here does so of their own volition. If I facilitated new living arrangements for them, that was by mutual consent of all parties involved.”

Jack snarled, “You gave them ‘obedience protocols’ and took money for them. That sounds like slavery to me.”

“Jack, Jack, I have such high hopes for you, but you’re not irreplaceable.”


“Come now. You’re a beautiful young man. Finding you a new arrangement will bring me a good price once your training is complete. But if you choose to cause problems instead, well, sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Dylan and Ike have been excellent recruiters. If we have to evict you because you choose not to abide by the terms of my offer, I’m sure they’ll find a suitable replacement in no time.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jack snapped. “Dylan and I don’t want any part of this. We’re leaving.”

Dylan said, “Uhm, Jack, we haven’t talked about that.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor said. “We should all sit down and talk, like mature adults.”

Jack fumed at the implied insult. “No, thanks. We won’t be staying.”

“You should take a moment and consider this. Dylan has lived here for several years, and he’s quite happy here. He doesn’t want to leave. If he leaves, he loses everything—his friends here, the job he loves, his life. I think the only way you two can be together is if both of you stay, and that means both of you have to abide by the terms of my offer. Both of you, Jack.”

Dylan cleared his throat. “Jack, I ... I really like you and I’d like to see where this thing between us goes, but ... I can’t see leaving here.”

“That’s because he won’t let you. You’re not his slave, Dylan.”

The Doctor said, “How about a compromise? Dylan and Ike are my best recruiters, so I’m not taking outsourcing offers for Dylan here. How about if I take you off the table too, Jack? You can stay as long as you want, as long as you and Dylan are together. I won’t ‘sell’ you, as you so callously put it, but in return you’ll have to abide by The Offer and you’ll have to start recruiting too.”

Dylan said, “Jack ...?”

“It’s obvious you two care for each other, even though you’ve only known each other a short time. Perhaps a quick session would help you focus and think more clearly? How about it, Dylan? Why don’t you sit down in this chair here and we’ll have a quick session.”

“Okay, Doctor,” Dylan said.

Jack pleaded, “No! That’s how he—Fight it, Dylan! Please!” But Dylan was already stepping around him.

“That’s it, Dylan. Have a seat right here. Good. I’ll start the session in just a moment.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan said.

Jack heard the chair squeak as Dylan sat down, and he felt like he was losing.

“Now you, Jack? All you have to do is come over here and sit down. That’s it. That’s all you have to do to stay with Dylan. I know you want to. I know you love him. It’s clear, isn’t it? All you have to do is turn around, and come over here, and have a seat in this familiar chair.

“Not interested.”

“Then why haven’t you left yet? That you’re still here tells me you’re considering my offer. Come sit down. A quick session will help you see things much more clearly. You know it’s the only way you can be with Dylan. What harm can a quick session do?”

Every time the Doctor said the word session, Jack felt the tug. He could already almost picture that familiar forest path, could almost see himself taking that first step.

“Dylan is willing. He likes you very much, but he doesn’t want to leave. Why don’t you come join us, Jack? Please? Just a quick, clarifying session, and then you and Dylan can be together if that’s what you want. Come sit down so I can start the session. Dylan’s waiting, Jack, but he won’t wait forever. Come on, Jack. Take that first step. Just one step. That’s it. One little step, and then you can sit down and we can begin the session. Just take that first step.”

Why is life always so hard, Jack wondered. If he stepped onto that familiar path down into the peaceful forest, he would not have to worry about this. Someone else would make the hard choices and deal with the consequences. But did he not want to make his own choices? His new life was supposed to be about him making his own choices. But maybe this once he could choose not to choose? Surely letting someone else make the hard decisions for him was a choice Jack deserved to be able to make too? Jack, in spite of himself, imagined what it would be like to take a first step down that familiar path again. No!—Fucking hell no! he swore at himself.

“Dylan, why don’t you ask Jack to join you so we can begin the session?”

Dylan murmured, “Jack ... please ...?”

Jack felt something inside him twist. Dylan was so beautiful and caring; Dylan was everything he wanted.

“Just take that first familiar step,” the Doctor coaxed. “Just that little first step. So familiar. You’ve done it several times before. Do it again now, Jack. Take that first step.”

Jack imagined taking a step down that forest path.

Then another.

“That’s it,” the Doctor cooed. “You’ll feel much more clear-headed once we begin the session. Now come sit down here next to Dylan.”

As he imagined walking down the forest path, Jack found himself turning around, turning toward the Doctor and Dylan, walking over to them, sinking down, sinking down into the familiar chair once more. He was so tired, so sleepy, so ... sinking. He could not stop it now. He had chosen to give up the decision. It felt like the right choice. As he surrendered to the feeling, accepted it, his hand crossed the short space between them and gripped Dylan’s.


Dylan led him by the hand. They were walking down the path together, approaching the clearing, the perfectly calm, peaceful clearing that sometimes seemed like a bed. Around them, the breeze whispered in their ears, sounding sometimes like a voice, but mostly like shimmering leaves. Yeah, Jack thought to himself, I do like feeling relaxed like this.

Dylan turned and smiled at him, and Jack felt so much love for this man, so much love that it burned away everything else. Dylan wore only his favorite dark blue boxers, and the bright sunlight shone on his shoulders. Dylan eased his boxers down, teasing Jack by doing it so slowly, and stepped out of them, naked now, so gloriously naked, and already three-quarters hard.

Jack was still clothed. He looked around at the clearing, at the birds with the eyes he might someday, soon, be comfortable thinking of as cameras but for now still preferred to see as bird eyes, just staring bird eyes. Someday he would be able to see this as it was and still stay so focused and calm and relaxed, but for now, seeing the peaceful clearing was so much easier.

Jack looked at Dylan and smiled back. Dylan drew him close and kissed him. Jack did not want to think anymore. He just wanted to savor the kiss and the heat that it caused to run down his neck, directly to his cock. Dylan cradled Jack’s chin, deepening the kiss, stepping closer to grind their hips together, Dylan’s cock against Jack’s through the material of Jack’s pants. Despite the sudden ache, the need, in his balls, Jack did not fight Dylan for control, just met the rub and thrust of Dylan’s tongue and the shift and glide of his lips.

“Damn,” Dylan swore appreciatively, stepping back. His fingers trailed across the solid length straining in the crotch of Jack’s pants. Jack smiled his go-ahead. Dylan unbuttoned Jack’s shirt and pulled it off of him, followed by the tee-shirt. Then came the pants and briefs and socks. Now Jack was as gloriously, happily naked as Dylan.

Dylan drew him down onto the grass and moss. Dylan rolled onto his back, pulled Jack down on top of him. Jack looked down at Dylan’s erection and felt himself fall in love with it all over again. He bent his head to it and felt himself fall in love with every red inch of it as it slid between his lips, like his mouth had been made for it. He dove for it now, the crown of it gliding past his lips, then sliding along his tongue, filling Jack’s head with Dylan’s smoky taste.

A hoarse grunt, and Dylan’s hand pressed down heavily on Jack’s head. No need to urge him—Jack wanted to spend hours worshipping Dylan’s cock. The twisting vein, the spot under the head that made Dylan buck his hips, the feel of his pulse against Jack’s tongue. Letting the head slide on the back of his throat, Jack tightened his lips at the spot where the skin shifted color, and Dylan’s thigh muscles shook under Jack’s hands.

But Dylan knew Jack too. Slipping a hand between them, Dylan squeezed Jack’s nipple, tugged and pinched until Jack was whimpering around Dylan’s dick.

“Stop,” Dylan whispered, and pushed on Jack’s head off his cock. “Don’t wanna cum yet. Too soon. Want you to make love to me, sweetheart.” Dylan pulled his legs up, knees toward his chest.

Sweetheart. Not baby—that was Ike’s word. Sweetheart. This word would be theirs. Jack grinned and nodded.

Hands on Dylan’s shoulders, Jack flattened the larger man on the grass and moss and knelt between his legs. Jack’s cock was aimed right at Dylan’s ass. From somewhere came lube, a rubber. Dylan looked into Dylan’s eyes. The rush of fear and want in them echoed the tensing in Dylan’s legs even as Jack eased them apart. Then Jack felt Dylan’s leg muscles relax and saw Dylan’s eyes unfocus and soften. Dylan smiled, lazy and relaxing under this warm sunlight, this breeze, Jack’s touch.

Jack rubbed his dick under Dylan’s balls, across them, then over his cock, lube-slick. Dylan arched up as Jack pushed the shafts together, skin dragging sweet and good against skin, their dicks pulsing right next to each other. When Jack locked his hand on Dylan’s hip, he gave Dylan a look that he hoped said I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you and you’re going to love it. Dylan grinned and nodded his understanding. That handsome face hit Jack the same way every time he saw it—a hot rush of blood concentrating into his cock, setting a moan to burn in the back of his throat.

“C’mere.” Dylan grabbed the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him down.

Jack grinned through the kiss and pressed the tip of his cock into Dylan’s balls again before driving it up along the shaft of Dylan’s dick and sliding the rims together. Heat and a hard, slick pressure. What made Jack ever think he wanted to leave? He was happy here. He had to be here to be happy. He needed this, the shift and press of Dylan’s cock against his, the smell of their sweat together. He could not live the life his father set out for him. His life was waiting here all along, alongside Dylan.

Dylan brushed his mouth across Jack’s neck before fixing on his nipple. The first tight suck, the first hint of teeth, shot electricity from nerves that had a direct line to Jack’s dick. His balls tightened and he flung his head back. “Ah!”

“You like that, sweetheart?” Dylan’s hoarse whisper sent a good deep buzz through Jack’s balls.

All Jack could find the strength to say was: “Yes.”

Jack’s cock still glided along Dylan’s as their hips worked together. He was going to take his time, go slow, enjoy his first time fucking Dylan. That seemed to be fine with Dylan too. Every minute they stayed locked together, Jack would not have to think about anything else. Soon, nothing else would matter.

Jack eased back until his dick was riding the crease of Dylan’s ass. Dylan pulled his knees closer to his chest. His ankles settled across Jack’s shoulders. Dylan made a sound that might have been a growl or a laugh and drove his hips forward again and again, and he grunted, “Fuck me. C’mon. Do it.”

Staring at beautiful Dylan made thinking difficult. That was how Jack wanted them both to be right then, not thinking, just fucking, making love.

When Jack touched him with a lubed finger, Dylan’s eyes rolled up.

“Okay.” Dylan’s voice got more determined. “Fuck me.”

Jack pressed the broad head of his dick to Dylan’s ass, pushed it forward into the hole, stretching the opening. Dylan relaxed and the hole gave way, and Jack eased past the stinging resistance, swiveled his hips, and backed off. Jack did not want it slow; his body wanted it hard and fast, wanted to pile-drive Dylan’s butthole. Dylan had a tight grip on Jack’s hips, though, and they were going at his pace.

Jack’s body knew what to do. He nudged in again, shifted, and then shoved in all the way. Dylan groaned, making the same sweet sound getting fucked that he made when he fucked. The sensation and the sound flooded Jack with need. Dylan reached back between their legs, gripping Jack’s thigh to keep him tight and deep.

Jack needed to say their word: “Sweetheart … I wanna fuck you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck me,” Dylan agreed.

Jack started his first ass-fucking by instinct, using quick hard slams Dylan seemed to love. No technique, he realized, just animal rutting. His slams made them both pant loudly over the slap and thud of flesh together. Jack felt himself shudder, building a pressure that made him think he could cum from nothing more than Dylan’s ass milking his dick like that. Jack leaned forward and put a hand on Dylan’s chest and pressed him down so that Dylan’s hips tipped up higher and Jack stabbed his cock deeper.

Jack reached for Dylan’s dick but got his hand slapped away.

“Too close,” Dylan groaned groggily. “Don’t want cum yet. Wanna turn over.”

Dylan flipped onto his hands and knees. Jack inserted his cock again, feeling the heat of Dylan’s guts burn around his shaft as it slid back home into Dylan. Dylan was right; it was better like this. Better with the way Dylan’s body opened for him, with the way Dylan’s ass rubbed and squeezed all the right spots on Jack’s dick. Dylan had so much to teach him, Jack knew, and he wanted to learn everything.

“So good inside you, sweetheart,” Jack purred as a bird zoomed in for a closer look.

“Yeah,” Dylan grunted and tightened his muscles around Jack’s cock.

As they moved together, Jack stroked Dylan everywhere he could reach: the rigid muscles of Dylan’s arms supporting his weight, the sensitive edge of fuzzy hair at the nape of his neck, the big muscles of his back and his spine as it moved in a wave to drive his hips and ass into Jack’s thrusts. Jack loved the feel of his first fuck, so perfect. It would never ever be his first time ever again, so Jack had to make it last forever. He tightened his grip on Dylan’s hips.

Dylan’s voice grew hoarse as he panted. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” He reached back and grabbed at Jack’s ass and urged him faster. The rush of pleasure built in Jack’s balls.

Dylan tossed his head ecstatically and moaned, “Love you, sweetheart. Love making love to you.” This was the first time Dylan had said love. The first time any man had said it to Jack. The first time in a long time anyone had said it to him.

Jack loved making Dylan feel like that. He whispered, “Love you back, sweetheart,” and answered as well with the pulse of his muscles driving his cock in and out and the squeeze of his hands.

Dylan moaned so loudly Jack thought he had climaxed, but he just caught his breath and pushed back again, wanting Jack’s dick deeper inside. Jack grabbed Dylan’s shoulders and anchored himself there to give more force to his thrusts.

“I’m so close, sweetheart. You close?” Dylan asked.

Jack did not want to be, wanted this to last forever, but—“Yeah”—he was close. Jack leaned forward and ran his hands down Dylan’s chest, got a good squeeze on his pecs, rubbing the nipples over his palms as he moved the muscles and skin back and forth. A sharp spike of heat in Jack’s balls and he knew what was about to happen. “Gonna fuck you stupid, sweetheart,” Jack gasped.

“Gonna fuck you stupid too, sweetheart,” Dylan answered.

Jack did not want this to end. Not now. It felt too great. They could do it again later. And again. They had to.

Jack’s body spasmed. It was almost too much sensation, feeling Dylan’s guts clamped around him, that sweet, hot wetness enveloping his dick. He felt himself reach the edge of orgasm.

Underneath him, Dylan hissed, “Gonna cum. Fuck!” He shuddered, and Jack saw the red flush of Dylan’s orgasm spread over his face, his neck, and his back.

Jack pulled his dick out of Dylan’s ass. He fumbled with the condom—shit, how had Dylan made tugging it off look so easy? When he had his cock free of it, Jack started jerking off to follow Dylan over the edge into bliss.

Dylan groaned again and rolled his head to look at Jack, and that was all Jack needed. A few sharp tugs on his cock and he was shooting onto Dylan’s chest and face, thick ribbons of it as his body gasped out the sweet release. Dylan rocked gently against him until Jack stopped shaking and his breathing started to slow.

“Together, sweetheart,” Dylan murmured sleepily, as the breeze whispered like a voice around them.

“Always, sweetheart,” Jack happily accepted, and let his eyes close.


Jack sat at the kitchen table with the computer in front of him, typing data into the onscreen form.

Ike walked in, as usual wearing just his jockstrap. “What’cha doing, baby? Another college application?” Ike draped himself along Jack’s bare back, chin on Jack’s shoulder, looking down at the screen.

“Yup,” Jack confirmed. He had gotten his GED too late to apply to the major schools in the area like the one Ike attended, but he could still make the application deadline for some of the junior colleges, then transfer the credits later. Naturally, the Doctor offered to pay his tuition.

“Good for you, baby,” Ike murmured and nibbled Jack’s ear just the way he liked it.

Jack moaned appreciatively and leaned back slightly into the press of Ike’s warm body. Jack felt his dick stiffen in the familiar loose sweatpants that were pretty much the only thing he wore around the house these days. He liked the way the fleecy insides scrubbed across the sensitive head of his cock when he went commando, which with all the time now, sending little shudders of pleasure and arousal through his body.

Jack moaned again under Ike’s nibbles. “Stop that ... ‘til after I get this finished.”

“I’m proud of you, baby. We all are.” Before he pulled back, Ike found Jack’s nipple with his forefinger and thumb and gave it a soft pinch that made Jack groan again, a trick Ike had indulged at length the night before when, like so many other times recently, he joined Dylan and Jack in bed for a night of Olympic-class sexual fun. “But soon as you’re done, how about clearing your shit outta here and setting the table for dinner, okay?”

“You got it, old man.

Ike was only in his mid-twenties, only a year older than Dylan, but that made him five or six years older than Jack, and Jack liked teasing him, calling him old man. The other guys used to call Jack new dude, but they would not be able to do that now. There was a newer new dude in the house, named Derek, Jack’s very first recruit, who was at that moment in the Doctor’s office having his first session. Jack hoped it went well. The Doctor had already told him and Dylan that, if Derek’s indoctrination progressed on schedule, they would have their first sexual training session with Derek in a week. The thought of seeing Derek’s dreamy face bisected by his cock never failed to give Jack a hard-on.

Once, in his very first meeting with the Doctor, which seemed like years ago instead of only a few months, Jack said he intended to be rich, famous, and married to the most gorgeous man on the planet, part of his plan to make his family jealous. His exploding popularity on the Doctor’s website had not been what he meant at the time, but it felt like an achievement to him nonetheless. His small bit of fame among a select group of subscribers who liked to see angelic young men saying and doing naughty things to other men no longer felt like revenge against his father or his birth family. Jack had a new family now, and he loved them all more than he could have conceived.

The front door shut as Jack continued typing. “Hi, sweetheart.” Dylan’s arms circled Jack from behind, and Jack let himself melt into them.

“You’re home. Hi yourself, sweetheart,” Jack answered happily and turned his head for a kiss.

Ike as usual made quiet retching noises, taunting them, until Dylan and Jack each flipped a middle finger at him without breaking the lip-lock. They knew this banter was just Ike’s way of saying he loved them too.

“When you two are done,” Ike huffed, still pretending mild offense at their display, “we got another email from Greg today. He’s doing fine, thanks for asking. The Sheik is taking him to Brazil next month for yet another honeymoon.”

“See,” Jack said, “I told you the secret to making a man fall in love with you is the judicious use of teeth.”

“Show me,” Dylan growled, and kissed Jack again.

“Ahem!” Ike coughed. “I put his message on the refrigerator if you want to read it. Or you can just pretend I’m not here and carry on with your carrying on. Just ignore me; see if I care. I’ll be right over here making chicken for dinner. Oh, wait, you’re already having chicken for dinner, aren’t you, Dylan?—And right in front of me too. That’s so rude ... unless you’re gonna invite me to join you.”

They ignored him. Dylan’s fingers found the erection in Jack’s loose sweats, originally induced by thoughts of Derek but now being reinforced by what Dylan’s tongue was doing in Jack’s mouth. Dylan’s fingers teased it through the fleece. He broke the kiss to say, “Somebody’s sure happy to see me.”

“Always, sweetheart,” Jack said, reaching for Dylan’s face again. “Always.”