L*st and Death

Why not just pull over and fuck right now instead of searching for someplace private?

Siron rubbed his precum-coated glans in slow, circular motions with his palm.

“Hnnngh!”

His legs instinctively spread wide, his hips twitching from the pleasure. Just being aware of the way his entrance pulsed and clenched on its own—tightening and releasing—made his sensitivity skyrocket.

Beside him, Lewis was displaying a superhuman level of restraint. Even as he stole glances at Siron pleasuring himself, he didn’t lay a hand on him.

After about twenty minutes of driving, they arrived at a motel tucked away from the main road and city lights—a relatively inconspicuous location. Knowing Anna would likely search every accommodation nearby, Lewis parked in a commercial lot some distance from the building. That he could remain so composed despite being in rut had to be the effect of suppressants.

As he carried Siron on his back toward the motel, Siron ground his tingling lower body against Lewis’s back. He wriggled, angling his hips so Lewis’s palm—supporting his ass—would graze the rim of his entrance. Lewis was the one in rut, but it felt like Siron was the one swept up in his pheromones.

The motel was a plain roadside setup, the rooms arranged in a straight row all facing the same direction. Lewis rented not one, but three rooms: the one at the end of the second-floor hallway, the room right next to it, and one directly below. The motel owner glanced at Lewis with suspicion, eyes lingering on Siron draped over his back.

Lewis pulled out a thick wad of cash from Anna’s wallet and said firmly, “If a woman comes flashing a police badge asking about us, tell her we were never here.”

The motel owner scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “If she’s police, I have to cooperate.”

It looked like he’d call the station on the spot, so Lewis added hastily, “She looks a lot like me. She’s family.”

The owner peered up at him, trying and failing to guess what the hell that meant. Lewis reached back into the wallet and slapped two more $100 bills into his hand.

“She told me if I had gay sex, she’d put a bullet in my head.”

At that exact moment, Siron let out a whimper and licked the back of Lewis’s neck, grinding his hips into Lewis’s lower back. A low, hoarse moan filled with sexual heat escaped his throat. The motel owner grimaced and shook his head, then handed Lewis all three keys without another word.

The motel room reeked of stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener, but thankfully the bedding seemed clean. No suspicious stains, no signs of previous guests. Lewis laid Siron down on the beige sheets. Finally, they were alone. Finally, they had a space to indulge, freely and completely.

Siron’s body seemed to be maturing fully into an omega as time passed. Perhaps it was Lewis’s pheromones—pouring out of him like an explosion—that were changing him.

Lewis had once said he’d help Siron find a way to return to his beta state. But seeing how badly Siron wanted him, how desperately he responded to his scent, made him change his mind. If Siron was reacting to his pheromones the same way he reacted to Siron’s, then why shouldn’t he take advantage?

Like a kettle whistling as steam bursts out under pressure, Lewis’s pheromones exploded into the air. The molecular signals radiating off his body settled onto Siron’s skin and into his lungs. Lewis watched the effect take hold, his mind hazy, dazed with pleasure.

“Let’s do it. I... I can’t hold back anymore...”

Siron didn’t even realize he’d lost control. Every fiber of his being was focused on Lewis, aching for touch—desperate to be filled.

He didn’t want kissing. He didn’t need foreplay. He just wanted Lewis inside him. Right now. From the very beginning. Lewis had no reason to refuse. They had time—time until they came to their senses, until every drop of lust had burned out. He would take his time, little by little, experimenting, indulging, dominating, worshipping, and possessing Siron’s body completely.

Lewis stripped Siron of his pants and underwear entirely, then started at his ankles—trailing kisses up the length of his legs. He pressed a short kiss behind Siron’s knees, then buried his face between his thighs.

He nibbled at the tip playfully, then took Siron’s balls into his mouth, sucking hard until the root was stretched taut. Siron twisted his hips, crying out in a sharp moan. A shiver jolted through his tailbone, and his vision flashed black. At that moment, Lewis pushed a single finger deep into his hole.

“Ah!”

Siron’s hole clenched and released, as if sucking on the finger—accepting it effortlessly. Lewis lifted his head between Siron’s thighs and slid in another finger. The second one slipped in just as easily, the entrance greedily twitching around them. With both index and middle fingers buried to the knuckle, Siron let out a long, breathy moan between his teeth.

Lewis parted his fingers inside, rubbing along the inner wall as he pulled out, then added a third. The hole was tight—narrow and snug—but slightly slick with natural fluid, enough to guide the way. He pressed in deeper, stroking along the ridged lining like carving a shallow groove into the tissue. His fingertips bumped against a walnut-sized bulge—firm, like a knot of taut muscle.

“Ah! Hhhah!”

Lewis didn’t know much about male anatomy. It took him a moment to realize what he was rubbing was the prostate—the infamous spot. It felt larger than average. He scratched and rubbed it gently with upward strokes.

“Haaak! Nnngh, hhh, h-hee!”

A shudder ran down Siron’s spine, from the nape of his neck to his skull. He arched his hips off the bed, shaking uncontrollably.

The first wave of shivers hadn’t even passed before the stimulation came again. Siron tried to flee—lifting his hips, trying to escape—but Lewis’s fingers followed, pressing deep. He couldn’t hold it in. He began squeezing down on Lewis’s fingers, clenching his ass tight. He’d gone blank, mindless. Legs spread wide, his inner muscles pulsed around the fingers still brushing his prostate.

He discarded self-awareness entirely, grabbing his own cock and using Lewis’s fingers like a mounted dildo—seeking more and more intense pleasure.

Lewis watched, utterly entranced, as Siron lost himself in lust. He looked like a pitiful animal—blinded by sex, chasing euphoria through his genitals and ass like a degenerate creature. Lewis’s blood surged. His vision sharpened. His heart pounded like a war drum.

He wanted to spend an eternity reducing this obscene, gorgeous beast to tears. He wanted to bite down, chew him raw, devour his trembling muscles and tender guts. It was a violent, primal hunger unlike anything he’d ever felt.

“Ahh... nnngh... hhh...”

Siron came—his hole spasming, his cock twitching in his hand. Lewis watched, then slowly pulled his fingers out of the tight, used entrance.

He licked up the cum without hesitation, like an animal that had found something delicious. The protein—saturated with Siron’s pheromones—hit his tongue and made his whole body burn.

Meanwhile, Siron was slowly returning to his senses. His post-orgasmic clarity dragged every shameful thing he’d done into full awareness.

...God, kill me.

He must’ve looked like a depraved pervert. Completely out of control, grinding on Lewis’s fingers like a dildo, jacking off like an animal. He hadn’t even tried to clean up, just threw himself at Lewis like some sex-crazed whore.

“Ggh... quit... ngh, sucking... aaah!”

Lewis chuckled as he sucked Siron’s cock. The teasing smirk on his lips, one eyebrow lifted, only made it worse. He was openly enjoying watching Siron fall apart.

“What’s wrong? You like having the back sucked more than the front?”

“Neither! I don’t like either!”

“Hah. So you prefer getting fucked like a dog?”

“N-No!”

“Really? You were moaning and clenching on my fingers like you loved it.”

Siron wanted to die from embarrassment. He blinked dumbly, unable to believe what he was hearing. Lewis taunted him like a prostitute, then ran his tongue all the way up his cock for good measure.

Lewis looked like the kind of guy who used to be prom king in high school—the drama star, the football quarterback, always surrounded by girls. He probably had sex like it was a sport, able to seduce anyone he wanted.

Siron had misunderstood him. He’d thought Lewis was bad at controlling his urges, but still somewhat naive—sweet, even. His slightly droopy eyes, his earnest and enthusiastic nature, the way he seemed genuinely amazed and delighted by everything they’d done together—it had made Siron believe Lewis was really into him.

But that wasn’t the case.

He was just another name to be added to the sex list of this gorgeous, blonde, sex-crazed bastard. Realizing that bruised his pride. It stung in a way he didn’t expect—and he hated that it did.

And yet the stimulation didn’t stop.

Lewis took Siron’s cock deep into his throat until it hit the back, then slowly sucked, cheeks hollowing. He swirled it like a hard candy in his mouth, then wrapped a hand around the shaft, licking the tip with obscene little slurps.

“You’re such a fucking slut.”

“Haa, you... sick... hhh, fuck!”

“Pff. I haven’t even started yet.”

Lewis let Siron’s cock fall from his mouth and exhaled through gritted teeth, his expression tight with frustration. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. His breathing turned heavy, almost like he was pumping his own lust into the air.

He settled between Siron’s spread legs, kneeling with his knees apart. Undoing his belt, he pulled down his zipper and underwear. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, slapping lightly against Siron’s cool balls.

“...What?”

How the fuck had he forgotten how big it was?

The sheer size and girth snapped Siron’s mind back into full clarity. In his head, a horrifying image flashed—like someone trying to ram a plastic soda bottle into their nostril.

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