Archive of Our Own ^beta

Duncan had a whole shelf of his bookcase at home, just full of pet guide books. He never gave up his not-so-grand ambition to successfully nurture a living creature, his yearning for companionship, his guilt, let’s face it. He didn’t want to face it. That’s why animals seemed easier then people, and he spent most of his time alone.

One of the books he hadn’t cracked yet was How to care for your new bunny. Sure, bunnies were cute, warm and fuzzy, but Duncan assumed they’d be a lot of upkeep, demanding, hopping all over the place, shedding and always after him for a carrot. They also had some kind of weird sex mania, clearly, since they kept shooting out baby bunnies every five minutes or whatever.

Duncan didn’t really want a pet like that. He wanted a calming, peaceful companion to help his retirement not to feel so achingly lonely. To help him try to be a human being again, instead of the monster that years of killing had made him. Piles of baggage over past trauma and regret that no lover would ever want, so he didn’t try a relationship. A pet would be fine.

A pet who could take care of themselves, for the most part.

A pet who could be mellow, a steady source of love and companionship, and fun, too.

Just not frisky. That sounded exhausting.

Duncan was quite sure he didn’t want a fuzzy, soft, warm, cute pet who hopped all over the place, was way too frisky and sexed up, needed a ton of attention and care, and constantly hassled him for a carrot.

At least, he thought he didn’t want that. Until one day he took on a very strange job.

***

It was a sex convention, which to Duncan’s mild disappointment did not consist of strippers and hookers giving presentations and signing up new customers, offering nice discounts.

Actually, it was just another convention, like the ones those idiot “Trakkies” or whatever liked to have, wearing their elf ears and shooting each other with blaster-sabers.

The whole convention center was chock full of booths selling salacious wares, from naughty outfits to BDSM and vanilla sex toys, porn dvd’s, sex furniture, decor guides for your home dungeon (free consultations!), plus more flavors and colors of condoms and lubes than Duncan thought was at all necessary. Just…fucking…put it in, move it in and out and come, why do you need all that fancy shit? He’d always kept sex simple, quick and direct.

Except on the very rare occasions when he met someone he wanted enough to put in extra effort. Then, Duncan could be quite the stallion to say the least, but not just anyone could bring it out of him.

This was a convention for people who liked to savor sex and draw it out, think about it as often as the bunnies did. What a bunch of freaks, Duncan thought with a chuckle. He did have to admit, there were quite a few attractive freaks mingling among the booths, shopping, chatting, making new friends. Heading to the snack bar and coming back to stroll the place with popcorn and beer. It smelled of butter and Corona light in the huge room, which was not a sexy aroma in his personal and unstated opinion.

He kept his mouth shut as to judgements because his inner running commentary was for his own amusement and he was used to others not getting his jokes, finding them too dry, deadpan, weird. Duncan had taken the security gig not because he needed the pay, which was shit anyway. He took the work because he was lonely, he hadn’t been able to make it work with a single animal or human, or to embrace total solitude.

Duncan worried he might start talking to the walls one of these days, and needed to get out more often, under any pretext. Maybe he thought there would be a hot babe or two at a spicy gathering such as this, who would like to be ruined for the night by someone older than their dad. He would certainly make it a night they would never forget.

And he needed to get laid. His fucking wrist ached these days from jerking off to bad porn, rather than carrying and shooting a gun. He could barely shoot a load, not because he wasn’t still virile (he very much was) but because he could never find the right combination of situation and passion in porn lately, and only got off finally out of sheer stubborn refusal to stop. Frankensteining some kind of fantasy in his imagination from bits and pieces of different videos, until it fit together into something that pleased him.

It was getting old, and he was, too. Duncan had a feeling, which was growing of late, that he would still like to do a little good living with the time he had left, rather than fade into his armchair and self-loathing, like he had often been tempted to do.

Time to listen to my better demons. Feed the right wolf. All of those stupid metaphors are true.

He stood next to a booth selling skimpy lingerie, manned by an overly enthusiastic young woman who chewed bright pink bubblegum and talked a mile a minute.

“‘Scuse me, sir?” The perky seller asked, rousing Duncan from a near-coma of disappointed boredom by tugging his sleeve.

“Yes, miss? Is there a security threat you need to make me aware of?”

That was the pick-up line he’d come up with for the day. It was sexy, right? The double meaning, that he, that his big, hard cock was the threat, would only be perceived if the one he used the line on was interested. He had a good chuckle coming up with that one. Genius.

This chick didn’t show any interest, despite how he practiced his sexy, rumbling tone on her, and despite how exotic and smoky his accent was. Although she fucking talked too much, Duncan figured he could shut her up for a night if necessary. He was dying for a good, dirty lay, and she was pretty enough, if you put aside the gum and the nonstop chatter.

“No, sir, but I just wanted to ask if you could do me a huge favor and watch my booth for a few minutes while I run to the little girls room.”

Duncan sighed. That wasn’t his job, manning a booth called Gumdrops: your number one source for tastefully trashy lingerie!

But the bubbly little blonde number went skittering off towards the ladies, nearly toppling in her high heels and tight skirt, so Duncan figured he could cut her a little slack. She must really have to go.

“Hi,” said a man with a beard and a curly head of brunette hair lightly touched in silver.

He wore a tan polo shirt with the collar wide open, showing off a stunning, long neck, pretty collarbones and a good glimpse of a built, bare chest. Duncan had started wondering what his nipples would taste like when he bit them, but replied smoothly, “Yes, how may I help you?”

“I’m looking for an outfit I saw here earlier,” the man replied, busily examining the many flimsy underthings laid out all over the table.

Duncan watched his long, lovely fingers turning over each sensuous piece, then looked at his face again, noticing the dark blue eyes full of mischief he thought he was hiding, and more than a fair share of sadness. Being good at reading people was a blessing and a curse. With great amusement and finally an end to his boredom, Duncan thought this kid might as well walk around wearing a t-shirt that said “NARC.” He was a fucking cop; it dripped off him, obvious as the neon pink “wild strawberry” lube bottle he was now examining.

“That doubles as a lava lamp,” Duncan joked, not having a clue what he was doing.

Did he want to kill this admittedly cute trouble-maker, in case he’d been sent after Duncan? -- which wasn’t impossible. With his track record, it did occasionally happen that some FBI agent or runt from the local PD got all fixated on being the one to track the Black Kaiser. He was glad this convention job wasn’t in the small town where he lived these days; he liked the simple, laid-back people, the diner with excellent eggs and black coffee, the woods, even the lame dvd rental machine on Main Street that never had new releases. It would suck to have to pull up roots and run, start over again.

So if this kid – who was most likely over forty but was definitely a fucking kid, a pretty brat who needed to be fucked into oblivion – he wouldn’t mind volunteering – if this kid was after Duncan to bring him in, make him face justice, Duncan would have to kill him. But, instinctively, he was reluctant to do so.

“You don’t really work here,” the stranger laughed, “Do you?”

“I’m just watching the booth for Nadine. Seen your missing outfit yet? Maybe tell me what it looks like and I’ll see if I can track it down. I’m here, may as well work.”

He just wanted to know what the handsome young man was looking for, even if only as a pretense for investigating Duncan. He wanted to picture this boy with the eyes twinkling with bad intentions decked out in some scandalous outfit that showed off his obviously firm body.

“It’s a bunny outfit,” the man explained, looking frustrated. “I really need it. I guess it’s a blush pink, a little frilly dress with an apron on the front of it, comes with garters, a tail and a headband.”

“This must be the one,” Duncan mused, pulling a hanger from the rack behind him devoted to animal-themed naughty attire.

He held it up admiringly, than looked with unquestionable lust at the young man, who now had hands on his hips, looking slightly stressed. “Thank goodness.”

“I agree. This will look wonderful on you,” Duncan encouraged with a sly smile.

“It’s not for me,” the stranger snapped, petulant, “It’s for my girlfriend?”

“Your girlfriend? Where is she, then?”

“It’s a surprise.” The boy ran a hand through his luscious, soft-looking hair, one hip popped, his tight blue jeans showing off the best damn ass in the whole room. He grabbed a wallet from his pocket and flipped it open impatiently.

“Oh?”

The boy rolled his eyes at Duncan’s smirk and raised eyebrows.

“Okay. It’s for my ex-wife. There’s the whole confession. Got it? Now, what is it again, 49.99?”

“You’re trying to woo your ex-wife back to you by giving her a bunny lingerie?” Duncan put on his glasses so he could read the list of prices beside the envelope of cash that was already pretty well stuffed…a phrase which in his mind became distracting.

This kid had a real way about him, a ballsy attitude and a fiery temper, with a scared neediness under his skin. His lush beauty and bratty demeanor appealed to Duncan’s love of a challenge and his raging sex drive.

He felt the big, blue eyes with those long, dark lashes sizing him up, staring at the large, broad, muscular frame lurking obviously under his black sweater and grey jeans. His silver-black hair that fell across one eye in practiced messiness, his tough guy mustache (well-earned) and piercing gaze, even with a pair of glasses on that were ever so slightly grandfathery.

“I’d pay a hell of a lot more than that to see you in this get-up,” Duncan said, ignoring the boy’s held-out wad of cash. He started packing the pretty, pink underthings affectionately in polka-dotted tissue paper that went in a pert gift bag with the name of the store proudly printed on the front.

“What?”

He’d managed to surprise the brat, which was satisfying. It didn’t happen too often, Duncan guessed.

“You heard me.” He handed the bag to the young man and added flirtatiously, “I said, I’d pay even more for a night with you in it.”

“You think I’m a hooker?” That beautiful, sullen, insistent on being crabby face was offended, cutely offended.

“No,” Duncan laughed, “I think you’re a cop. Just wondering if you really came here to buy this for some ex who doesn’t even deserve to fuck you, or if you came here because you know who I am and…I bet bringing in me in would just make your career, wouldn’t it, pumpkin?”

“Oh, you know what?” The boy rolled his eyes, “That’s just fucking demeaning.”

“Yeah, it is. Do you like it?” Duncan took a sip of coffee from a cup he had on the back counter, and continued enjoying the over-the-top reactions from this sexy brat.

“Come out from behind there, now. I said, get the fuck over here, asshole.”

The boy wasn’t yelling, but he was trying to be bossy in his own feral, sloppy way that just came out like a cry for help. Duncan was more than ready to volunteer his services. He had never seen a twink so stunning (at any age), nor so desperately in need of a spanking.

Duncan’s mouth watered at the thought.

“Sure, kid. Didn’t catch your name, by the way.” He rounded the booth and put his hand out cordially. “Mine’s Duncan.”

“I know your fucking name, you arrogant bastard, and now I’ll nab you for solicitation and all of your other, many, many other crimes–” The kid tried to pull a pair of handcuffs out to put on Duncan, who laughed and snatched them at lightening speed before putting them in his own pocket.

“Let’s take a walk, officer…you don’t want to get your gun out and scare all the nice people trying to buy ten inch dildos and leather chaps. This is their big day at the convention, they must have waited months…”

“You’re a dick. Walk.” The kid got behind him and poked his back, adding brusquely, “Move. We’ll deal with this outside.”

“Whatever you say, officer…” Duncan smiled, enjoying the pretty, pale hand on his back shoving at him haphazardly.

He allowed himself to be “forced” through a “Staff Only” door and into the security office. Flicked the light on and kept his hands raised with sarcastic surrender. That’s when the kid realized Duncan was still carrying the bubblegum pink gift bag with the bunny outfit in it.

“Officer Bobby Bronson,” the boy announced coldly, showing Duncan a gold badge and pulling out a gun, gesturing for the older man to sit down at the table where convention center staff drank coffee from environmentally cruel styrofoam cups.

Ugly yellow fluorescent lights flickered absent-mindedly above them; even in this lighting, the kid was beautiful. “Bobby.” That would be his name, the sassy little treat that he was.

Duncan neatly put the gift bag on the table and sat across from the handsome officer. “I suggest we skip the unpleasant possibilities and pick a more enjoyable plan for the evening,” he proposed, folding his hands in front of him.

Perfectly calm. Bobby intuited that Duncan could end him at any second, whether or not he had a gun. He put the gun on the table and heaved a sigh. “This day is going right down the fucking toilet. I knew I should have brought backup, but the chief won’t even send me on routine patrols anymore.”

“You’re out of your league, kid,” Duncan clucked his tongue affectionately. “This isn’t the nab to get you off probation. What did you get in trouble for, anyway? Insolence to a superior officer is my guess.”

“Fine, Mr. Psychic Evil Deadly Assassin, actual worst fucking trash excuse for a person on the whole trash heap of a fucking planet, you know everything.” Bobby threw his hands up, rolling his eyes again, these seeming to be a couple of his less frantic and problematic responses to being called out for things he had actually done.

“I thought so. You have a big mouth, and you like to use it to act like you’re tougher than you really are.”

“And? I wouldn’t want to miss another sage word of this analysis. Why the fuck you even care, anyway?”

“Why don’t I crack your skull on this unsanitary table and walk away without a chance of being caught?” Duncan shrugged, enjoying the little bit of fear in Bobby’s eyes, the twitch of his lips that needed to have his teeth in them as soon as possible. “It’s your lucky day, Bobby Bronson. I like you.”

"What? No, you don't, I don't want you to like me, asshole, just--"

He could almost hear the struggle to resist the advances of a dangerous, good-looking older man who he knew damn well was packing in more ways than one, and of course, catching someone’s eye in this manner. Being noticed and complimented, pursued. Bobby hadn’t experienced any of those things in a long time, and Duncan knew that rather than another stream of gruff obscenities and a quick swig from a flask in his jacket pocket, the boy would rather be bent over the table right now.

“Well, we both know you won’t be able to do shit to me, Bobby, so let’s make another deal. I’m going to leave you with this lovely gift, from the bottom of my heart, and my cell phone number. I wrote it on the business card right in the bag there.” Duncan pushed the bag towards him; Bobby sulked like an unruly toddler.

“I don’t want your fucking disgusting, depraved, perverted so-called gift, old-timer,” Bobby insisted, getting to his feet in a huff. “I’m gonna spend the rest of the day in my favorite bar, drinking until I get drunk enough to go beg my ex for a pity fuck. Sounds like a holiday compared to another second with you.”

“Think your favorite bar will even let you in?” Duncan stood as well but kept a polite distance, the hard, commanding look in his darkening gaze saying quite enough on that score. “How many fights have you been in lately, how much damage, Bobby?”

“I’m returning this to the booth,” Bobby informed him. His eyes moved up and down Duncan’s body, then up to his eyes and lips in a sort of lustful, confused panic.

Aw. Poor baby. He just needed a firm teaching hand to set him right.

“You do what you want, baby. If you change your mind, I’m staying in the hotel next door. I have the night free. Keep in mind, I can fuck you so well that your entire universe will shift back onto its axis properly, though you won’t be able to walk straight or sit normally for a while.”

He winked, and Bobby scowled, then stormed off, bashing his hand into the door and letting it swing back towards Duncan’s head. He rushed away, still carrying the pink bag, still swearing profusely under his breath.

Duncan smiled. He could hardly wait for the end of his shift, when he would eagerly but patiently await Bobby Bronson’s desperate text or call, needing what only Duncan could give him.

***

It only took a couple of hours, like he expected. Lying in bed perusing the bible from the nightstand beside his bed in the hotel, he heard his phone beep. The bible was one of Duncan’s favorite reads. It had a lot of gruesome violence and horror, balanced nicely with plenty of laughs. However, Bobby was far, far more interesting. His cock twitched at the mere idea of slamming that brat down and taking him with ruthless fervor.

He’d received a text.

“What are you doing?”

Duncan chortled. What a ridiculous, obviously curious beginning. Bobby’s total lack of charm and rough manners were endearing; he didn’t mind, he wasn’t that polite and sweet himself, but the boy certainly needed a lesson in self-control and respect.

He deftly stored the number in his phone and saved it under “Bunny.” And he texted back, looking carefully through the glasses sitting low on his nose.

D: Waiting for you, baby. Are you ready for me now?
B: ...... ……… ……….
D: I can see the answer is yes. I want you to prepare first. Can you do that for me, you naughty brat?
B: ......... ………. ………. …….. – Yes.
D: Yes, sir.

Duncan called him then and when the boy answered in a shaky voice, he could tell his brat was already over-excited, just the way Duncan liked his conquests. Weak before he even laid a finger on them, ready to be wrecked, put away used and wet.

“Are you touching yourself, little bunny?”

Bobby gasped. “Don’t call me that. Yeah, I guess you turned me on for some god-forsaken fucking crazy reason. I’m just horny, okay, it has nothing to do with–”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, and stop that bad attitude right now if you know what’s good for you,” Duncan said in the severely threatening tone that had scared many a future victim of his gun or knife. “Better get your hand off your dick, too, or you won’t get to come later. Apologize.”

“Jesus, fine. God. Sorry I can’t be an angel for you, an actual assassin, you–”

“That was a terrible start. I’m going to spank you for that, after I finish spanking you for your attitude earlier, not even saying thank you when I gave you a present, disrespecting me and mouthing off. That’s no way for a boy to act if he wants to avoid punishment. But I doubt you do want to avoid it, do you, Bobby?”

“I don't fuckin' know…” the boy sniffled. Duncan almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“But okay, sir,” Bobby corrected himself with damaged dignity, “I’ll stop touching myself. What else do you want me to do?” Inexperienced in being dominated, he blathered nervously, “Please? Sir?”

“You sound good saying those words, bunny. I’ll tell you what I want. I want you to put on the lingerie I bought you. Then I want you to video call me. Show me how you look. We’ll take it from there.”

Bobby must have dropped the phone, Duncan realized as he heard a tell-tale clunk of it falling.

Snatching it back up again, the boy complained, “I don’t want to wear it.”

“Yeah, you do. That’s why you remembered it from walking by the booth before, and why you came back, using the ex wife as an excuse. You deserve to wear that pretty outfit much more than she does. Does it seem demeaning to you, wearing it?”

“Obviously. It’s a bunny outfit. It’s fucking pink, and see through. There’s a goddamn tail.”

“Yes, a fluffy cotton tail. Perfect for your nice, round ass. You like that demeaning feeling. It gives you permission to go somewhere your pride won’t let you. Give in, Bobby. Call me back with your camera on.”

Duncan had a cigarette, unsurprised when it took a few minutes for the kid to figure out how to get into the sheer, french-maid style dress.

When his phone lit up again, to Duncan’s actual surprise his heart skipped a beat, genuinely excited. He felt…enthralled, really wanting Bobby, wanting him in that cute fucking get-up. He was hard but resisted touching yet.

“Happy?” A very sulky bunny appeared on Duncan’s phone screen, with a pair of pink ears sticking up from his curls, the ears flopped over in different directions.

Bobby had his arms crossed over the dress and he looked both shamed and elated. He was sitting in a bed, a bed at the same hotel, Duncan realized. The bad boy probably charged it on a fraudulent card or one swiped from the police department. Naughty officer Bronson.

“Fix the ears,” Duncan snapped authoritatively, repressing a gasp or any praise for how absolutely gorgeous his little bunny looked, angry and resistant earlier, or now, giving in a little bit more, then more...

Bobby groaned and adjusted the ears to stand up straight. They looked just right now, with the tips turned down stylishly, making Duncan smile.

“Good” was all he said, curtly.

He sat on his bed as well, looking sternly at the boy, watching him tremble.

“I want to see. Stop hiding yourself and stand up, show me.”

Bobby turned red and rolled his eyes. “Why am I doing this?”

He stood up, then propped the phone on a pillow so Duncan could see him well. He put his arms out, flapping them miserably, revealing a toned, beautiful body with firm biceps, a flat tummy and juicy thighs, all looking extravagantly luscious under sheer pink lace and ribbons. The little pink rose at the center of the low neckline was a favorite feature of Duncan’s, along with the apron, of course. The boy was here to serve him, after all.

“Very nice.”

Bobby frowned at the mild compliment, as if he truly believed Duncan was half-interested, or only toying with him, even mocking.

“Turn around for me,” Duncan ordered firmly. The brat would learn to understand his plans and feelings in due time. “Show me the back.”

He bit back a low moan of his own when he saw Bobby’s gorgeous ass peeking out under blush pink ruffles. However, he merely repeated, “That’s nice” before commanding, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bobby mumbled.

“I can see that you’re hard, probably leaking, aren’t you? Show me that, too.”

Bobby turned around and, with a ragged gasp, lifted the skirt just enough to reveal a sizable erection, standing to bold and needy attention, wet and looking delicious to Duncan’s devouring gaze.

“Hmm. Good. Where are the garters?” he chided, looking annoyed.

“The fucking garters, fucking, stupid, ughh,” Bobby groused, finding the offending articles, which were two pink, ruffled garters that he slipped on.

“Do it properly, you little slut, don’t waste my time and money.”

The implication and dirty talk made Bobby visibly harder as he quivered, moaning. “Duncan…”

“Do it properly before I hang up.”

Bobby nodded, then put his foot on the bed, showing Duncan how he slowly, slowly pulled the lacy garter up his whole pretty leg and placed it around his thigh. He repeated the process with the second one, and Duncan knew he was fucking throbbing by now.

“Ever been fucked by a man before?”

“No,” Bobby shivered more, sitting on the bed but allowing himself to be fully seen with his arms behind him, legs stretched out, the lacy skirt fluttering just down to his thighs. “But I’ve sucked cock,” he put in, as if he was defending himself.

“I bet,” Duncan chuckled. “When you’ve been drunk enough, I bet you have. I bet you had them coming in minutes, barely trying. They must have come just looking at you on your knees. Did they come down your throat or on your face?”

“Both, on different nights,” Bobby blushed, starting to feel less insulted by Duncan’s abruptness and dirty talk, more flattered and aroused. “I know I can suck you off really good.”

“Yes. You’ll work at it this time, get it right. This isn’t a drunken fumble in the parking lot of a dead-end bar.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bobby was learning fast. He played coquettishly with his skirt, biting his lip and batting his lashes.

“Do you feel embarrassed, bunny?” Duncan couldn’t help the rumble of arousal in his voice. The boy was attractive on a level that shouldn’t even be legal. He had pushed the limit of his own resistance and ability to remain calm until he wasn’t, which he preferred to come much later.

“Yes, but I kind of…fucking…goddammit, I like it, sir, feeling embarrassed and having you tell me what to do. It makes me want to go overboard to please you. Which is stupid...but...”

Dammit, he was entranced by the blushing, humiliated, turned on boy who wasn’t used to this treatment, but leaned into it with increasing enthusiasm, giving Duncan his softness for each round of dominance…Duncan was surprised that he could even be this excited, at his age, with all his experience.

“Good. That’s very nice, bunny.” Duncan granted him a smile, his eyes crinkling.

A strange warmth had begun intermingling with the voracious desire to fuck a hot piece of ass. Namely, he really, really did like the kid. He didn’t think he would be entirely satisfied walking away after only having him once.

Bobby grabbed the bedding to avoid touching himself, beginning to understand how Duncan’s restrained manner and firm hand made the praise, when it came, even in as simple a form as a smile, profoundly exciting.

“Good boy,” Duncan had to admit, “Holding back like that. You’ll have to touch yourself now, but only in the way I instruct you to. Do you finger yourself sometimes, slutty bunny?”

“Slutty bunny,” Bobby repeated, rolling his eyes and moaning in more arousal, even responding to the somewhat silly nicknames now, not minding so much being treated as…a cute, desperate whore, essentially. The cutest.

“Yes,” the boy admitted, “Sir, I have fingered myself before. I’ve been bored enough to try almost anything.”

“I’m glad you have some experience, although it won’t prepare you much for taking me. Still, we don’t want to hurt you more than necessary for you to learn a lesson about what slutty, bad little bunnies deserve. You can finger yourself open for me. I want to watch.”

“Fuck,” Bobby cried out, a jagged whimper.

Duncan could only imagine how he would howl and beg for mercy when he broke him. Such a beautiful voice, when he used it in honesty rather than attempts to hide his emptiness and need.

“Put on a show for me, and be quick about it,” he said coarsely, glowering at Bobby.

“Yes, sir.”

Of course, the boy had lube; Duncan thought he probably tried to have some on hand most of the time because you never know when you might get lucky. He shared the philosophy.

Bobby slicked his fingers up, gaving a shaky smile to the phone screen. If he was this high on the tiny scraps of approval Duncan had thrown his way, he would be easily destroyed by full-on praise.

Duncan couldn’t decide if he wanted Bobby to be bad and get nothing but punishment, or good so he could praise him and see how the words of affirmation made him fall apart. Both, he thought, would be a sight for sore eyes. The expectation did not seem lonely at all, unlike most he had these days.

Bobby braced one hand on the bed as with the other, he flipped the pink skirt up and traced his tight hole. He did put on a show, wriggling his ass subtly, then making a big deal out of showing his adorable, tempting little hole off to Duncan’s lustful gaze.

“Oh, sir…” Bobby moaned, slipping one finger inside himself with a careful, tentative rub, letting the rim stretch. “God, it’s been too long since I did this, felt full.”

“Actually, it’s been forever, baby. Trust me, you don’t know what ‘full’ is, but you certainly will soon. Now fuck that pretty hole for me, and don’t you dare go anywhere near your prostate, or I won’t either.” He grinned as Bobby’s head hit the bed, knowing the boy’s face was contorting with pained enjoyment of the not-enough of his orders.

Also, given that his face had taken on an odd habit of breaking out into infatuated grins whenever Bobby was especially good, bad, innocent, tormented, it was a good thing his back was turned. Then again, this only suggested that Duncan smiled like an idiot at Bobby being Bobby, no matter what the specific occasion.

That’s weird. He shrugged and took another drag of the cigarette; window was open and he’d use air freshener to avoid getting boosted for smoking in here. Funny how his own hand seemed to shake just a bit working the lighter on the next smoke, as his eyes drank in Bobby’s shameless thrusts into himself. The boy kept the fingering too shallow to either give him the pleasure that was available but torturously neglected, or to stretch him sufficiently that Duncan wasn’t going to feel excruciating at first.

Bobby’s breaths were high-pitched and tripping over themselves, some sort of fucking…horny panic attack. He sounded and looked amazing, more beautiful than anyone. His dewy, creamy skin, the way the pink, gauzy lingerie teasingly showed off his delicious body that had clearly been neglected in general for far too long. Touch starvation made Bobby wilder and more sensitive; what a good boy, what a brat.

“Very, very nice, bunny whore,” he congratulated fondly, affection coloring the words despite the dirty talk. He would have to try and keep his mind on the game of his role, the dominant, the one who controlled and didn’t smile or pamper until afterwards. This was more challenging than he expected.

He was so hard by now that the cigarettes didn’t take the edge off; he needed to fuck, now. That boy was unbelievable. Tonight, he was all Duncan’s.

“Good, now stop,” he said, thinking he’d better get his dick in that pretty bunny’s mouth fast, or he would faint from the rush of blood away from his head currently swooping downward, his cock tenting his jeans in too obvious a manner to politely walk the hall.

“Hurry up then,” Bobby begged, but there was a frustrated, whining edge to it that screamed “brat.”

“When I arrive in a few minutes, I want you to be laid over the bed for me, stomach down, ass up. Text me the room number.”

“What? I’m not gonna fucking lie there like a–”

Duncan ended the call and tossed his phone on the bed. Since it was this obvious he had his work more than cut out for him, he’d need to have both hands free of anything except Bobby for the rest of the night. He rolled his sleeves up and took a few bracing, deep breaths.

That brat was going to wear him out. But it would be worth it. He might even get addicted.

***

Duncan made a quick path down the hall to Bobby’s room. He had to use the fucking bible to block his raging hard-on from the eyes of anyone he passed, so he nodded to a few guests that walked by. Surely they assumed he was just a very religious man.

Meanwhile, Bobby had paced for a couple of minutes, resisting the idea of lying down like that showing his ass for Duncan to do whatever he wanted with. He had admitted that the dress up excited him, the getting bossed around and trying to please this…unusually attractive and compelling man (he would not tell Duncan he thought this way about him, fuck that bastard. Bobby would let him simmer in uncertainty).

Bobby was used to being the stud who threw a woman down and fucked like a pro, and that’s why they always…came back for more? That’s what he’d tell anyone who asked, but in reality, Bobby had only kissed or given head to a handful of other people since the divorce. And even then, he’d been thinking of his wife…fuck. His ex-wife. God.

But what had thrilled him about Duncan and still had his pulse pounding while his cock throbbed under the sheer pink fabric (which felt pleasant, actually, arousing) was that he hadn’t thought about anyone else with this guy. When the big, scary, notorious assassin stared Bobby down so admiringly, there was a sincere kind of demanding lust, flattering in a way that bound them together and locked the rest of the world out when their eyes met.

The lingerie, he thought, looking in the mirror again, looked fucking good on him. For a guy, he was working it. He was a babe!

He did a few beguiling poses, intrigued with this new version of himself, how the shift of the smooth, light pink material felt dreamy on his sensitive skin and like a compliment from…sir. Bobby had not been touched in a few weeks, and even then, he hadn’t been handled with any genuine interest beyond a drunken hook-up.

This was different. His heart was fucking…galloping and he was sweating a little. His whole body felt not only hot, all over, but so alive, so high on desire and the kinky shit Duncan had him doing. The kinky, devastating things that Duncan intended to do to Bobby.

Fuck. He heard footprints in the hall approaching. As a last, fast, totally cock-led decision, he groaned in annoyance and threw himself down on the bed to be fucked, mortified when the door clicked open behind him, then closed.

Duncan came in so quietly, it was kind of scary and heightened Bobby’s excitement. He needed this man far too much. It was even more absurd that he was shaking like a leaf, as if he was some blushing high school senior about to be fucked for the very first time, hee hee!

“Good boy,” Duncan said, his throaty voice going right to Bobby’s already engorged dick.

The older man approached with that same slowly tormenting, anticipation-building manner, and Bobby looked down at the bed, in accordance with the command he’d received.

“But you were a very, very naughty boy earlier. Not once, but several times.” Duncan finally, finally touched Bobby, placing a large, warm palm on his ass and caressing.

He heard the man’s breath hitch, just a little, as he kneaded Bobby’s plush ass, then gave an experimental spank. “Fuck,” Duncan said with quiet emphasis.

“That’s a beautiful ass.”

“Thank you, sir…oh, god, please just do whatever you’re here to fucking do, before I disintegrate waiting.” Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. Every polite request or thank you to Duncan was so unlike his usual devil may care, egotistical swagger that it hurt, and that pain felt good.

“You see, this is just what I mean, bunny whore. Little slut, sassing me, knowing you’re already going to be punished. I ought to give you something to bite down on, boy.”

Growling, he began spanking Bobby in earnest, alternating powerful slaps from his huge, calloused, working man’s hand, with slow caressing. The fucking gentle touch on the same skin Duncan had just smacked hard enough to leave a pink handprint hurt, it burned, it was unbelievably good.

“Ah!” He couldn’t hold back the sobbing, panting moans and cries that flew from his lips, and when he got up the nerve to look behind him, the tiny glimpse of Duncan that he caught sight of was intimidating, with a scornful glare and a massive hand raised again, preparing to strike.

Bobby held the blankets tightly, and when the next blow fell, making his ass bounce and begin to look more red than pink, he instinctively, without thinking, rutted against the bed when his body was shoved forward by the force of the spank.

“I didn’t say you could rub yourself on the bed, slut,” Duncan said, suddenly hovering over Bobby’s body and pinning him down so he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Bobby felt perfectly happy with the situation, however, especially since it resulted in Duncan pushing his monster cock right between his bare ass cheeks — fuck! He felt like coming just from that.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, lying completely, earning a harsh tug of his hair, but Duncan had become distracted it seemed.

He was caressing Bobby’s ass now, his hand under the pink nightie and slowly savoring the shape and feeling. Duncan was flattering him excessively without a word.

“Since you’ve been disobedient and that apology sounds like bullshit, I think it’s a good time to start training your slut mouth to take my cock. Get up.”

He pulled himself off Bobby, then pointed at the floor. “Kneel.”

Bobby did, figuring he was bound to get rugburn, but what was a little rugburn when your ass was stinging and your scalp hurt?

Optimistic he could ace this, having been sucked enough times, knowing what he did and didn’t like, Bobby wasted no time leaning in to slowly lick Duncan’s throbbing, hot, heavy cock. Duncan was like a porn star, only better. And he had flung his clothes off, sweating like Bobby, face only a little less flushed with excitement and need.

Duncan had a hairy, strong chest, broad, gorgeous shoulders, a dad tummy that turned Bobby on as well. He was rugged and real.

“Oh, bunny…” Duncan threw his head back and groaned when Bobby licked him like a lollipop, immediately taking a liking to something he once considered impossible.

“Mmm, you…taste good, sir, you feel really good,” Bobby nosed along the thick length of him, nuzzling his face and then licking again, this time sucking the head, which already substantially stretched his unaccustomed lips. He had never had a dick this big anywhere near his mouth. “Mmm,” he said again and bobbed his head.

Why hadn’t he been doing this years ago? This being, sucking off a notorious assassin while disintegrating in gratitude at the chance to do so. His mind was clear and focused, his body buzzing with erotic tension and he knew Duncan could give him what he craved, so why shouldn’t he go to fucking town on the guy, too? Might as well, given that he looked that hot and swore profusely in multiple languages with Bobby’s every move. That made him proud of himself, which he also had not been in many months.

“What are you doing to me, bad little bunny?” Duncan moaned huskily, grabbing Bobby’s curls like picking an animal up by its scruff. He then took control and started sliding his huge cock slowly - at first - in and out of Bobby’s overwhelmed mouth. It was so much, suddenly Bobby felt like a goddamn virgin.

Ohh, wow. How the hell was that thing gonna fit inside Bobby, who’d never even used a dildo before? Jesus. Was it gonna hurt too much?

When Duncan growled savagely and fucked intensely into Bobby’s mouth, gasping in pleasure, these responses encouraged the younger man to really try his best. He focused on not being scared, but pleasing…sir, instead.

After a while, he relaxed his jaw and even though his mouth felt tired, he was happy, floating a little on some distant cloud that came from being a vessel for Duncan’s enjoyment.

“Oh,” Duncan snarled, pulling out of Bobby’s mouth as precum and saliva dripped down his cock, plus Bobby’s lips and chin. "So good,” the older man panted. He looked like a tense lion about to strike.

Still looking up, big eyed and basking in praise, in doing a good job, Bobby then found himself seized in strong hands that held him tight against a naked, powerful body, and Duncan’s lips were on his, their mouths moving together with joyful heat and flawless pleasure. Duncan’s mustache scratched his skin a little as the older man kissed him harder, their tongues swiping together.

Bobby knew this kind of encounter was usually a one night stand that didn’t include such a personal act as kissing on the mouth, much less this intimately, this deeply.

“What a gorgeous mouth, bunny.” Duncan even smiled gently, which didn’t mean he wasn’t about to wreck Bobby completely. “You’re something else.”

“So are you,” Bobby answered, dizzy as Duncan felt up his body with hungry gropes, appreciatively noting every curve and muscle. Really, worshipping Bobby in a reciprocating manner to how Bobby had given his all to the spanking and blow job.

He wasn’t alone in the depth of his need, for once.

Not at all, as Duncan tossed him on the bed like a ragdoll and immediately grasped Bobby’s thighs, biting each one. While Bobby moaned, learning to love pleasured pain so much, Duncan sucked his cock so good he begged him to stop if he didn’t want Bobby to come.

“You need to learn self control, brat,” Duncan smirked playfully. He threw Bobby’s legs over his shoulders and proceeded to eat him out so well, the younger man’s shaking was now unstoppable and he seemed to just keep sputtering “please!” without knowing please what, exactly…more of this, more of everything, finding out what came next? Yes, yes, yes.

“Yes,” Bobby sighed, hands frantically feeling Duncan’s immense-seeming body above him in bed. Duncan was caressing his thigh under the nightie, and something shifted in his expression when he looked down at Bobby’s wildly needy face.

His hair was a mess, he was sweating like a lawyer in church, breathless, begging for sex from a guy he barely knew, who had him in bunny lingerie, pink no less. Bobby thought he must look ridiculous, but Duncan looked at him in serious admiration tinged in ongoing surprise. And he put a hand between Bobby’s legs, firmly sliding a lubed digit in his already fingered hole. There was a big difference between Bobby’s long, but slender fingers and Duncan’s, which were thick and powerful. Those fingers pulled wild, frenzied moans from Bobby, and he thought nothing could be better than that, even without getting pressure on his prostate yet.

I can earn that, I can impress him, show him how good I can be.

So Bobby moaned, “Please, sir, fuck me. Need you.”

Duncan gasped and pinned him to the bed, frotting their cocks together, Bobby’s pink nightie flung back to give him access.

They both moaned loudly, and Bobby suspected there was gonna be a noise complaint, a proud thought.

Then Duncan looked him square in the eyes and started to fuck him, for real.

Bobby thought that the spanking was painful but very, very enjoyable, seeming to absolve him from hurt feelings and self-doubting he didn’t even know he’d been suffering under. He thought giving Duncan head was fun if a bit difficult and overwhelming, to put it really fucking lightly. Grinding on the bed, getting two kinds of oral and scissored by Duncan’s magic fingers was fucking fantastic.

But having Duncan split him wide open on his huge cock, their loud cries of pleasure duetting again? This was the best. Thing. That ever, ever happened to Bobby Bronson.

Duncan took his time helping Bobby adjust to his size, then he was fully seated, groaning and sighing about how tight and perfect Bobby was, kissing him almost tenderly, biting his ear and muttering, “naughty bunny. I could get used to this.”

Bobby moaned through his tears as the bed started to rock in time with Duncan’s beautifully merciless thrusts, filling him up and tearing him to pieces, pleasure finally blossoming with shocking intensity when Duncan hit the spot, chuckling at the choked sob Bobby let out in response.

He turned the boy over to fuck him doggy, caressing his back, squeezing his ass, sighing in something that seemed deeper than mere admiration. When he slid back in, right to the hilt, he dropped his head for a moment and closed his eyes. “My god,” he said, and Bobby wondered how often this lawless man mentioned the big guy upstairs. Probably not too often, he thought, kind of in a hazy, smug way until he was pounded once again to kingdom come with breathless skill.

By the time Duncan had Bobby over a table right in front of the window, the curtains open on the starry night and anyone who cared to see, the younger man knew he wouldn’t be able to help coming soon. His whole form shivered, and his weakened state, used to such perfection by Duncan’s powerful lust, made it impossible to stop his body from doing whatever the fuck it wanted.

Duncan read it in his breathless cries, and he put Bobby’s leg up on the table to fuck him deeper. At the same time, he tugged Bobby’s hair and kissed his neck, licking his skin, nibbling his ear.

“You can come, baby,” he granted huskily.

Bobby did, in shattering style, completely lost to unfathomable ecstasy rocking his whole body as Duncan slammed his dick in and made him full, gave him over and over and over pleasure, wow – wow.

Getting fucked more after coming and getting all sensitive was part painful and part even better. He could feel every inch of his lover, hyperaware of his warm, big presence inside, and of the hands that moved over his body like a sculpture, appreciative of all he touched. Duncan kept playing with the nightie and even adjusting the headband when it threatened to fall, or just looked crooked. He liked to play with the garters, too, and Bobby’s sanity. It was so good, Bobby wondered if he’d be able to stop crying.

Duncan finally came, like a hurricane, moaning fiercely and slamming into the boy, growling, almost helpless, “Fuck, oh god, bunny – oh, fuck—” and he came into Bobby, filling the boy with his cum, a look of dominating satisfaction on his face as he marked Bobby like that, showing his primal side.

After, Bobby assumed he would be expected to make a swift fucking departure as soon as he could you know, move. That took a while, with them lying in bed, eyes meeting almost shyly, breathing eventually slowing to normal, if not Bobby’s overactive heartbeat.

Still, he’d never been asked to hang out with someone who just met him that day and asked to fuck, so he figured he would rather make the first move to leave instead of get a little bent out of shape or even slightly broken-hearted if Duncan kicked him out.

“Where are you going, bunny?” Duncan pulled him right back against his big, warm, comforting body and kissed the side of his face and his neck, hands still wandering his skin in wonderment, giving Bobby ongoing pleasure. “Stay.”

“If you want,” he answered, baffled.

“Anybody who didn’t stay and hold you deserves a good beating, and I hope you never let them lay a finger on you again,” Duncan said gruffly. He sounded possessive, and Bobby liked it.

“I…kind of think that at the time I agreed with them.”

Bobby felt open, now, and safe to be so. He looked at his bunny headband fondly where it lay on the pillow. Duncan kept nuzzling into him and murmuring, “I'm starting to get hooked on you, little bunny. And you should think a lot better of yourself. Look what you did. What you made me do. Don’t you know I was planning to be much rougher with you? And I certainly had no intention of experiencing..."

Duncan swallowed hard; there was a word for this, one that made him wish he could reach the whiskey in his bag, although he wasn't letting go of Bobby anytime soon. The word was..."Emotion. But, I did.”

“I experienced a fucking emotion, too,” Bobby admitted, putting his hand over Duncan’s where it pressed pleasantly to his stomach. “Maybe even more than one. So weird.”

There was a grin in Duncan’s voice as he answered, “Is this bunny up for adoption? Because I have a home that could really use some brightening up. I think a little wild thing like you would be just what it needs.”

“I don’t know, should I say yes? Leave behind my…nothing that I’ve built in my life, and go with you to the woods, in the middle of nowhere with winter, and probably no night life to speak of?”

Duncan recognized that Bobby was actually thrilled and teasing him, as they spoke the same emotion-cloaking-but-admitting-at-the-same-time language. “I’ll give you a night life, bunny. Until you spend most days sleeping to recover your strength.”

“Hmm.” Bobby snuggled back against his somewhat hairy and very adorable big spoon. “I think I could be fucking persuaded.”

Duncan’s whole face glowed with a joy he had never expected. For this beautiful, sensitive and sassy brat to be all his…he gave Bobby an almost crushing hug that made the boy laugh. Then they lay there chatting about their interests and making plans, including for buying this bunny attire in several other colors, or all of the colors it came in, actually.

What a surprise, but then life never ceased to have a trick up its sleeve, Duncan found. He had been so sure that out of every possible pet, he’d never ever want a bunny. Now he wanted one more than anything, somehow, and had him, too.