“hi’ya, mr. arlen,” you said sweetly, rising onto your tiptoes. before he could respond, you leaned over the wooden fence and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing his sun-warmed, scratchy stubble. his body tensed instantly. just the sight of you had already thickened him; that innocent little kiss made his cock swell heavy against his shorts.

“there’s my girl,” he hummed, cradling your face in his large palms and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

you shifted on your feet, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “i was hoping you could help me with this? i can’t reach back here.” your voice stayed soft, but your eyes sparkled with wicked mischief as you turned, offering him the untouched expanse of your back. “and… i missed having your hands on me.”

beau’s gaze locked onto the way the tiny bottoms had wedged between your ass cheeks. a glistening sheen of sweat traced down your lower back, sparkling under the brutal sun like an open invitation.

his mouth went dry. his tongue darted out to wet his lips as one broad hand dropped to the front of his shorts, palming the thick, growing bulge and dragging it upward with a greedy squeeze.

“well now,” beau drawled, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly hunger he barely bothered to hide. “it’d be a damn shame to let skin this tempting burn, wouldn’t it?”

before you could step away, his big hands slid up your waist, palms dragging possessively along your bare sides. he pulled you flush against him until the heavy, throbbing length of his cock nestled perfectly against the curve of your ass.

beau dipped his head, trailing slow, heated kisses along the side of your neck. his rough stubble scraped deliciously over your skin as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

you let out a shaky laugh and glanced up at him with mock innocence. “sheriff, be good,” you whispered, voice dripping with playful defiance.

“let ‘em look,” beau murmured against your jaw. “ain’t nobody else touchin’ what’s mine.” he finished the words with a firm slap to the plump flesh of your ass.

you sank onto your belly on the warm towel. beau clicked open the bottle and poured a generous line of cool lotion down your spine. his broad palms smoothed over your shoulder blades in firm, unhurried strokes, thumbs digging deep into the muscle with delicious pressure.

“mmm, you’re so good at that,” you sighed into the towel, melting beneath him.

beau chuckled lowly. “ain’t the first time you’ve told me how good my hands feel, darlin’.” his palms slid lower, coating your ass in slick lotion. his thumbs pressed into the soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he worked the cream in. “though, last time there was a whole lot less fabric in my way.”

you rolled onto your back with a soft sigh. beau shifted between your parted thighs, the leaking bulge of his cock dragging hot and heavy against your skin. his tongue traced a wet path from your navel downward, making your toes curl into the grass.

“you’ve been avoidin’ me lately, sweetheart,” he murmured against the delicate skin of your hip, leaving faint lovebites in his wake while his hands kneaded your thighs. “been waitin’ for you to come knockin’… and nothin’.”

he took his time, savoring every responsive twitch of your body. another slow, deliberate kiss landed directly over your covered clit. the scorching heat of his mouth seeping through the thin fabric made you tense and squirm desperately beneath him.

you whimpered his name, hips bucking, but his strong forearm pinned your lower belly down, trapping you under his weight.

“see? that’s what happens when you stay away too long,” he drawled, kissing you there again— working his mouth over the fabric molded tightly to your pussy lips. “gotta take my time remindin’ this pretty cunt who it belongs to.”

with a quick tug, he hooked your bikini aside and spit directly onto your bare heat, watching the thick, warm glob land on your clit and drip down your slick folds. then his mouth descended.

he alternated between deep, greedy licks and flicks over your clit, one thick finger teasing your clenching entrance— pressing hard against the fluttering opening, threatening to stretch you open but always pulling back at the last second, leaving you empty.

the coil in your belly wound impossibly tight. your back bowed off the towel, thighs clamping around his head as you teetered right on the edge. his fingers finally curled deep inside you while his tongue worked your clit in relentless, messy circles.

“beau — please, i’m gonna—” you gasped, fingers twisting desperately in his chestnut hair.

but beau knew exactly what he was doing. he pulled his fingers free at the last possible second, leaving you empty and throbbing in protest. your hips jerked upward, chasing his mouth with a needy whine.

before you could beg, he surged up and claimed your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, letting you taste the sweet tang of your own arousal on his lips and tongue.

“yea, not yet, darlin’,” he spoke against your mouth, leaving no room for argument. “if you want me to finish what i started, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to sneak that pretty little ass into my bed tonight.”

it was the first real time; the sultry focus from another man was sending an electric jolt straight to his groin. the idea of being wanted by a man was something new.

downing the rest of his whiskey in one sharp swallow, dean practically threw himself off the stool, rushing straight into the dim men’s washroom.

dean stumbled over to the sink, placing both hands down on the porcelain edge. he stared wide-eyed into the cracked mirror at his own blown-out pupils and flushed face, his breathing soft and strained.

slowly, his gaze drifted downward to the undeniable, hard tent stretching the front of his jeans. poor dean was nervous— completely out of his depth. his thumbs fidgeted anxiously inside his pockets as he tried to figure out how the hell to make it go away.

all the older brother needed was an easy pickup line, a confident smirk, and a girl whose name he’d forget by morning. he knew how to play that game in his sleep. but this? his brain racked over how to even approach a situation like this, or if he even wanted to.

dean turned the taps on the sink, trying focusing on "non-sexy" things— the mechanics of the impala's engine, the salt lines they needed to pour, cold lore books, anything to make his swollen cock go down. but every time he thought he had a handle on it, he imagined rough hands on him, instead of soft ones. the scrape of stubble against his throat. a deep voice telling him how good he's being.

his hand slid down the front of his jeans, palms smoothing over the undeniable, rigid bulge straining the denim. with his eyes squeezed tight against the glaring fluorescent light, he gently ground his hard length into his palm, a soft, helpless whimper catching in his throat at the pressure.

the man from earlier walked into the bathrom, stopping a respectful but close distance behind dean, looking at him through the glass.

"hey," the guy asked softly, his voice quiet. "you okay?"

dean stared at the ground, his voice barely a whisper. "fucking hell— yea i'm fine."

“you were staring pretty hard out there,” the man said quietly, eyes flicking over dean’s flushed face. “couldn’t help noticing. you looked like you wanted something.”

dean’s throat worked around nothing. he tried to find some smartass comment, but there was no mistaking the yearning in his emerald eyes. the raw, unspoken yes he couldn’t force himself to say out loud.

the man took one slow step forward, then another, until he was right in front of dean.

“have you ever…?” his hand lifted, smoothing a broad palm on dean’s chest, right over the frantic thud of his heartbeat.

dean shook his head, quick and small. “no,” he whispered. “never.”

the guy hummed, low and pleased. his eyes dropped lower, taking in the obvious, bulge still straining against dean’s jeans. leaning in far enough until his lips were barely a breath away from dean’s.

“did you ever think about being with one?” he murmured. . “y'know a man touching you , tasting you...”

dean’s breath stuttered. his cock twitched at the words, leaking against the inside of his boxers. shame and want twisted so tightly in his chest he felt dizzy.

“i… i don’t fucking know,” dean lied, barely audible. but his body betrayed him. he leaned forward just slightly, chasing the heat of the man’s body.

the guy’s hand slid lower, fingertips brushing over the waistband of dean’s jeans. “wanna be a good boy and let me to show you?”

dean’s answer was a broken, barely-there nod. his eyes fluttered half-shut, submissively, silently pleading.

the guy took dean’s hand and tugged him into the last stall, locking the door with a quiet click. as soon as they were closed in, he dropped to his knees on the dirty tile.

he yanked dean’s jeans and boxers down in one rough tug, freeing his thick cock. it bounced out heavy and leaking, the flushed head smearing a shiny trail of precome across the soft pudge of dean’s belly. his dark, unkempt bush curled at the base, damp with sweat.

“fuck, look at this pretty cock,” the guy breathed. “keeping something this nice away from guys like me— that’s a goddamn sin.”

dean’s face burned. “shut up— ah fuck,” he hissed, but the words died in a broken moan as the man leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up the underside of his veiny shaft, collecting the bead of precome at the tip.

the first deep suck pulled a loud, desperate sound out of dean. “oh fu— fuck.” his hand shot to the guy’s hair, fingers twisting tight in the strands. the man’s throat relaxing as he took dean deeper, nose brushing against the sweaty, musky bush at the base. spit traveled down dean’s balls, and dropped onto the jeans at his ankles.

and then the bathroom door opened. two drunk guys walked in, laughing loudly, taking their time at the urinals. dean’s eyes snapped open, panic cutting through the pleasure.

“wait— there's people,” he whispered frantically, even as his cock twitched harder in the man’s mouth. the guy didn’t stop. he just looked up at dean with dark eyes and took him even deeper, throat squeezing around the head while spit ran messily down his chin.

dean bit his lip hard, trying to stay quiet, but soft, helpless whimpers kept escaping. “fuck i’m gonna—” his free hand pressed against the stall wall, knuckles white. sweat slicked down his lower back. every time the guy swallowed around him, gagging softly but never pulling off, dean felt his orgasm barreling closer.

the sloppy sounds mixed with the thigh pressure made dean unravel. he barely got the warning out before his cock pulsed hard, thick ropes of come spilling straight down the guy’s throat.

dean’s head fell back against the stall with a dull thud, a broken moan tearing from his chest as he came harder than he had. the guy kept sucking him through it, swallowing every drop, milking him with slow, lazy pulls until dean was shaking and oversensitive.

when the guy finally pulled off, lips glossy with come, he stood up slowly. before dean could catch his breath, the man cupped the back of his neck and kissed him messily. dean could taste himself on the guy’s tongue, salty and bitter, and it made his spent cock twitch weakly between them.

“you ever come around here again, ill be here,” he murmured against dean’s lips. then he stepped back, gave dean one last heated look, and slipped out of the stall.

dean stayed behind, back pressed to the wall, chest heaving. his lips felt bitten off. the taste of himself still sat heavy on his tongue. shame and confusion crashed back in hard, but underneath it all was a warm, secret thrill he couldn’t ignore.

“fuck,” he whispered into the empty stall, dragging a hand down his face.

dean knew it wouldn't be the last time.

the clink of ice against glass stopped. ben turned, his gaze heavy and unimpressed, looking at you like you were a child complaining about a rainy day.

“late?” he huffed , a sharp, condescending laugh catching in his throat. “i was working, doll, unlike you. don’t spend my day picking out jewelry and looking at m'self in the mirror. i’m the one keeping this god damn country on its feet. y'should be thanking me for having a place to wait at all instead of whining like a brat.”

as he went on, his footsteps got closer to you. the sheer mass of his gear making him look twice his size as he loomed over you. “isn't that right?” ben reached down, his leather-clad fingers— rough and smelling of old tobacco and expensive bourbon , hooking under your chin to force your gaze up.

“let’s get one thing straight , angel. you stay in the condo, paid for with my money. you eat the food i buy, you wear the clothes i pick out, and you sleep in the bed i provide.” his grip on your chin tightened just enough to be a warning. eyes searching yours for a spark of defiance he could snuff out. “now i don’t ask for much, but it’s time to show a little fucking respect.”

the air in the penthouse felt suddenly thin. the gaslighting was effortless, the raw, antiquated authority of a man who truly believed your time was his to waste.

“'nd you were rude with that attitude , kid. don't appreciate being greeted with lip service when i get home from a long day,” he continued, his thumb pressing firmly into the dip beneath your lower lip. “s'only fair you make it up to me.”

ben , like usual , didn't wait for a response. he stepped back, the metallic clicks and rasps of his suit’s fastenings cutting through the silence as he began to undo the congested layers. peeling back the reinforced fabric until reaching into the opening of his boxers.

with a grunt, he freed himself. a cock you never got sick of. angry-looking, a heavy weight of salt-scented heat that looked almost as lethal as the shield he carried around all day. the shaft flushed a dark, bruised purple. veins standing out like jagged cords against the rigid length of him. a bead of pre-come sat at the blunt, swollen tip, glistening under the expensive chandelier light.

it was a vile, physical demand for the "respect" he’d just lectured you about.

ben gestured to the floor at his feet, his expression turning into something wilder. you moved, your silk robe whispering against the marble as you sank to your knees before him. hands clumsy as you reached for the meat of his thighs. your movements were hesitant, a bit too cautious for his liking.

ben let out a huff of dark amusement, his hand winding into your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat. he looked down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your plush lower lip with a deceptive tenderness while the tip of his cock twitched just inches from your face.

“i know you can do better than that,” ben murmured, his voice lowering into a gritty, commanding register that always made your knees weak. “now go on and show me.”