( liam hemsworth, heteroflexible/bicurious, cis gender + he/him/his ) welcome to the metrocenter, michael hastings ! they’re a thirty six (36) year old old survivor who has braved the wastes of america to join our little flock. they’ve decided to employ their skills as a medic which will help us out tons. from our psych eval we can determine they’re honest, hard-working, and protective , but have also been noted to be easily manipulated, sarcastic, and inept. they didn’t have much when they got here, expect for his older brother's gold rolex watch, a gold chain necklace with a small pendant hanging off of it inscribed with 07/06/1993 that his now late wife got him as a wedding anniversary gift, and a well used discman with a small case of CD's. ( A, 32, he/him/his, EST timezone + no triggers )
GENERAL INFORMATION.
NAME: MICHAEL HASTINGS.
NICKNAME: MIKE; HASTINGS.
JOB: MEDIC
HOMETOWN: ATLANTA, GA.
STATUS: ALIVE, UNINFECTED.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: METROCENTER MALL, MISTWOOD WA; CAMPING OUT IN AUNT CAROL'S HOME GOODS
PERSONAL INFORMATION.
GENDER: CIS MALE.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: BICURIOUS.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: BICURIOUS.
SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: SUBMISSIVE-SWITCH.
SEXUAL POSITION: BOTTOM.
michael has never had the space or opportunity to explore or act on his sexuality; in fact the only reason he even suspects the fact he isn't straight is because he and his wife had a threesome with one of his friends once and in that moment michael found himself more interested in the man than his wife to the point that his wife would often tease him for how much he seemed to enjoy having another man in his mouth.
RELATIONSHIPS.
PARENTS: RICHARD AND GLINDA HASTINGS; DECEASED (BEFORE THE OUTBREAK).
SIBLINGS: AUSTIN HASTINGS, OLDER BROTHER, UNKNOWN. THOMAS HASTINGS, ELDEST BROTHER, UNKNOWN.
FRIENDS: TBD.
PARTNER: SARAH HASTINGS, WIFE, DECEASED.
CHILDREN: NONE.
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
Michael often refuses to talk about the events that led to his wife's death.
they fled their home, like so many other's, when all hell broke loose but barely lasted a month on their own. the group they were traveling with were quickly and easily over-run by the mindless monsters the virus created. they were rescued my a militant group fighting back against the outbreak but rather than welcome them into safety michael, his wife sarah, his two brothers, and the one other that managed to survive were taken as prisoners; thrown into cells by overly cautious men and women that were terrified they could turn at any minute. while they were held, against their will, the base was attacked and his wife wound up succumbing to the virus; which only earned michael even worse treatment from his captors; their irrational fear taking over and making them think he would be next.
refusing to see reason, and ignoring the facts that he would have turned by now if he were infected, they left him in a cage next to his wife's body for months before he was finally able to escape.
Barely hanging on and separated from his brothers, Michael genuinely thought he was going to die on his own until he heard the broadcasts to come to Mistwood.
it took every ounce of the strength and fight he had left to get himself across the country, through the wastelands the virus had left in it's wake, to reach washington. he didn't know what he was doing, or what he would find there, but the broadcasts gave him a bit of hope. if he heard them, if he found mistwood, then maybe-- just maybe-- one of his brother's survived and found their way there as well.
he's been in mistwood for one month now and has taken up working as a medic, relying on his experience as a combat medic in 1982-1984 and his experience working in the local ER after his service was done, to take care of other survivors that find their way to mistwood.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
They all had enough stress on their minds; worrying about what each day was going to bring them and how they were going to sustain this group getting larger and larger each day. The last thing they needed to be dealing with was uncomfortable bunking arrangements. Michael liked Francisco well enough. The didn't talk a lot but when they did they managed to get along, it helped that he was incredibly handsome, but aside from the occasional small talk when one of them was struggling to fall asleep or when there was nothing else for them to do in the Metro Center things between the pair had been a bit tense since they started bunking together in Aunt Carol's Home Goods.
So Michael hatched a plan.
He wasn't sure it was going to work but he had to try something. Making his way to the sex shop in the mall, he was hoping to find some kind of left over ridiculous inflatable to bring back to show Francisco as a bonding moment; something they could both laugh at and make jokes about what the could use it for now. Unfortunately most of that kind of stuff had already been taken, or was damaged, so he had to pivot.
--and this was definitely a pivot.
He wasn't sure how Francisco was going to react but, before the outbreak, he had done this a few times before with some of his guy friends and it always went over well and earned a few laughs. Granted, normally a lot of drinking was involved, but right now Michael couldn't be picky. They didn't have a lot of options and he wanted to let the other man know he was here to be friends with him; he wanted Francisco to be more comfortable around him.
Getting back to their shared spot, he heard the other rummaging around and hurried off to a corner so he could hide and change. After what felt like half an hour, most of the time was taken for Michael to calm himself and his nerves down, he finally emerged wearing a black, lacey corset that he had almost managed to get completely fastened on his own, a matching black lacey bra, and a sheer pair of bright pink lacey panties.
Clearing his throat as he approached Francisco, a slight blush dusting over his cheek bones and his collar bones, Michael placed his hands on his hips and waited for the other man to turn around and look at him. "I, uh," he mumbled with a heavy swallow of his breath. "I noticed you seemed to be really tense the past few days and I just-- I wanted to distract you and help you relax. Saw this at the Leather & Lace and thought you might like it?" He wiggled his shoulders, and his hips, as he tried to tease the other man playfully; hoping to get a reaction out of him and, at least, make him laugh. "So... whaddya think?"
Everything was... new. Maybe not new in the grander scheme of things, but the circumstances were new. Little over six months ago, Alistair had a nice comfortable job at a hospital. Cutting people up for a living was thrilling! Who didn't want to be a surgeon and make the big bucks? But what was once an idyllic fairy tale quickly became a nightmare. Patients at the hospital that had been diagnosed with some rare form of virus began attacking people. The infection spread. A nightmare taken form and happening before everyone's eyes. No one knew who patient zero was. He definitely didn't. And after months on the run, living of whatever scraps he could find and keeping a low profile from those flesh eating abominations... someone found him and brought him to the Metrocenter. Survivors gathered there like moths to a flame. It's been what... one or two days since he had arrived? It was almost like watching the birth of a new civilization. No class disparities, no ego trips... almost like whatever happened six months ago pressed the damn reset button and tossed society into a binder.
"Not a bad layout." Alistair checked the cabinets. Whatever he could think of finding, it was already there. Mostly things to deal with light injuries and the likes - but enough to provide assistance in the case someone needed their intestines rearranged. Which he really hoped they didn't because that would... be a complicated procedure in that setting. "Here I thought the end of the freakin' world had sent everyone into a disarray and this little gem shines like a beacon." He closes the cabinet, rolling his shoulders back as he keeps looking around the infirmary. It was... passable. If anyone ever needed surgery, things would be complicated but doable. Thank fuck for those army medics conferences he went to. Make do with what one had. "If ye' have the strong stuff..." Like morphine and the likes. "Ye' better keep that under lock and key." He didn't know anyone at the Metrocenter yet. For all he knew, there would be some junkies around wanting a quick fix. The world had gone to shit regardless.
Michael had been here for a month now and every day new survivors found their way to their stolen oasis. Some days he couldn't help but wonder how things would be for him-- for his late wife, and his missing brothers-- if they had found Mistwood right from the start; if they hadn't been subjected to all that fear, and horror, at the hands of those weaponized cowards. It often left him bitter, or hating himself for not risking his life to actively search for his brother's so he could bring them here, but some days he wasn't as hard on himself.
Today, he was too distracted staring at the broad width of the newcomer's shoulders and backs as he showed him the medical center to be thinking about anything else.
Leaning against one of the back set of cabinets, arms crossed over his chest and a soft blush on his cheeks like a schoolboy with a crush, Michael listened and nodded along as the man praised their setup.
"Yeah, I know it's not a lot but it's certainly better than nothing-- and everyone on the team, so far, keeps their stations pretty damn tidy. As-," he cleared his throat with a cough, and straightened his posture as the other man-- Alistair, if he remembered correctly-- stopped going through drawers and cabinets and looked at him again, "as far as the strong stuff is concerned, for the most part it's on an honor system. I don't disagree that we need to have a bit more security in place but right now everyone has proven to be trustworthy; and everything is still a bit delicate around here. Locking things up might start making people think we don't trust 'em and it'll just snowball away from us. No one really comes back here though unless they genuinely need care. We don't misuse this space," but they could.
Tucker wanted to tell Michael how handsome he thought he was. Like a prince. Those eyes, his beard, his lips. Those hands. Fuck he would be dreaming about those hands for months to come he was sure of it. So big against him. Fingers deft and nimble he moved to undo his own pants for Michael, shedding them as well, letting all of his clothing pool on the floor at his feet as he stood there. Bare for the other man. A why mischievous smile on that sweet face of his. Not an ounce of shame in him.
Tucker moved to begin undressing Michael with an equal fervor wanting to see him just as naked. Wanted to go back to kissing and being held. He wanted to make the other moaned for him. Wanted Michael to come undone for him. Hands exploring over Michael's body, along his chest and down his stomach looping fingers into his waistband wanting to free him from those as well.
He was attracted to Tucker, that was somewhat apparent from the beginning with the way he fumbled through their conversation, but this almost felt more crude. He'd apologize, maybe tomorrow after he was able to clear his head a bit, for giving into such debase thoughts and desires and throwing himself at Tucker rather than continuing to get to know him-- because Michael did want to get to know him, but how was he supposed to concentrate when Tucker was kissing him like that; when he was looking at him like that?
Kissing his way back up the dip from Tucker's shoulder to the side of his neck, up to his jaw, to his chin, Michael groaned under his breath against him before finally pressing their lips together again; really kissing him as Tucker moved his hands aside to help unfasten his pants. "Jesus bud," Michael's words were low and heavy as he took a step back to appreciate the view as the last bits of Tucker's clothes fell out of the way. "Jesus," he repeated himself, his eyes widening as his gaze dropped to the weighty cock hanging between the younger's legs.
Without saying anything else, Michael shrugged off his coat and quickly peeled off his shirt; unbuckling his jeans and almost tripping himself as he tried to kick his shoes, his pants, and his underwear off all in one rushed shake of his legs like some over zealous teenager about to have their first time; stumbling back towards Tucker the whole time, eager to get his hands back on him; his lips.
"Tuck," he whispered the nickname he had decided to give the other as he finally got out of his own clothes; as he finally grabbed onto the boy's hip with his left hand to give himself an anchor point as he pulled himself closer; as he stole yet another kiss from those pretty, soft lips of his. "You're fucking gorgeous."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Tucker was used to clumsy, rough, and normally rushed. Men who would sneer at him later, call him names, hit him. So this was- well this was nice. Unexpected but nice. He was leaning into every touch. Sweaty second string college jocks were nothing compared to Michael though everything about him felt very much out of Tucker's league if you asked him. His freckled cheeks flushed as he leaned up to get more of that soft warm mouth against his own.
Tucker took Michael by the hand and pulled him with him. A hurried little shuffle as they moved out of the pizzeria and up toward his bookstore, all of it so careful arranged to give him living space and preserve his precious books. At the very back in the backroom of the place, his bed, a pallet made up with a mattress he wove together into a thick cord and then sewed into shape. An archaic way to make a mattress. Scrap fabric and all. His pillow made the same way. He shut the the stockroom door so they were alone and peels back his shirt to show off, his body thin but not soft, he had wanted to be an Olympic archer, and the muscle tone in his shoulders and arms showed it. The faint line of abs along his smooth stomach. "You really want this right?"
His heart was racing. It felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest as he looked down at Tucker. Another huff of breath escaped him, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, just before he was caught up in another stolen, warm kiss. This had started as nothing more than a distraction-- something to keep them from thinking about their pasts, and their present-- but as Michael's teeth lightly dug into Tucker's bottom lip, as his the fingers on his left hand dug into the soft skin of his stomach while his right hand tightened around the side of the other's neck, none of that mattered anymore. Distraction or not, all the man could think about now was how badly he wanted him; how badly he wanted Tucker. He hadn't wanted anybody like this since, well, since Sarah.
Squeezing his hand tight around Tucker's, he followed along behind him; his movements a bit unsteady as he tried to adjust to the discomfort of his erection caught in the tight fabric of his jeans. His mouth kept falling open, he kept trying to say something-- anything, really-- as he was led into the private space of where Tucker was currently residing but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say anyway? He'd already admitted how he wanted the younger man. Anything now just felt gratuitous; like overkill.
"Wow," he was impressed with the set up Tucker had, especially with the bed and pillow that looked hand made, but that was not what his exclamation was for. That was for Tucker.
Instantly moving towards him, stumbling over his own feet, the man's hands were quick to find their way back to Tucker's waist; pulling him close again as he bent down to kiss and bite against the side of Tucker's neck; following the curve line of it down to his now bared shoulder. "I'm sure. I really want this," he grumbled under his breath before biting, softly, into Tucker's shoulder as his hands began to fumble with the clasp of the younger's pants. "More than I know how to handle..."
Tucker giggled softly as the other kissed his neck and jaw and called him cute. Really cute, even. HIs body responding on it's own to the way the other touched him, the way those warm calloused fingers found the smooth supple skin of his stomach under his shirt. The taste of Michael's tongue still on his own as he tilted his head to let the other have whatever access he wanted to him.
"yeah do you want to go back to my um. place? Where I sleep." he said softly. It wasn't exactly an apartment but it kind of was. He'd share it with Michael though if he wanted to get Tucker all to himself. Tucker rolled his body into the other's, sweet friction making him let out a soft whine. This really turned out to be one hell of a distraction.
He wasn't used to acting on these thoughts and impulses, these desires, so maybe that was why he seemed to be rushing things along but despite the hurry he seemed to be in his attraction to Tucker, his intoxication, was a bit uncoordinated but completely genuine. Humming against him, his teeth gently dragging over the pulse point in the other's neck, Michael's fingers began to trace higher up Tucker's stomach; pushing his shirt up more as if they weren't still in an incredibly public place.
"That would be a good idea buddy," he mumbled, his words somewhat lost in the heaviness of his breath as he reluctantly took a step back so Tucker could have some space again; so he could lead the way if he wanted too. "Sooner would probably be better than later too," he huffed out, the front of his jeans making it pretty apparent where Michael's mind was now. "Not sure everyone else would appreciate if we stayed here."
Tucker kissed back, leaning into Michael the way the other held him made him just a bit giddy, it was warm and intimate and it made him feel a kind of acceptance he hadn't known he wanted. He laughed softly as he pulled back for a moment to breathe. "Well. Now I do believe you think I'm cute." he said with a little smirk before he went back in to kiss the other, he had never been able to go to bars and be picked up or pick them up. So this was foreign but nice.
Michael's lips weren't super smooth but they were still soft and warm and he enjoyed each and every kiss. Parting his own lips to let the older man have access to his mouth if he wanted. A bit of tongue never hurt anyone right? His arms wrapped around Michael's shoulders like someone was going to take the older man away from him. "You're a good kisser."
He wasn't entirely sure if it was Tucker himself or just the sensation of kissing someone, of holding someone, but with each passing second Michael found himself being pulled deeper into the kiss; growing more and more intoxicated by the other's lips against his own. In fact, as Tucker broke away from him to speak-- and maybe even catch his breath-- Michael's right hand abandoned the younger's waist to reach up and grip at the side of his neck; to silently pull him closer and say come back without having to waste his breath on the words themselves; his lips quickly finding their way back to Tucker's.
Groaning against him, the arm around the other's waist shifted again as Michael's finger's begin to push against the hem of his shirt; testing the waters, dipping underneath the fabric to drag his calloused finger tips against the skin of his lower back; his facial hair scratching against the youngers soft face as he stubbornly moved against him; his tongue pushing between his lips the moment they parted and invited him in.
"Really cute." He whispered, his voice a bit rougher and more hoarse now as he finally slowed down enough to actually respond; to look at Tucker again. "You, yeah. You are too. Should we, uh, should we go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?" His resolve only lasted for a few more seconds before Michael was leaning in again; this time his lips finding their way to the side of Tucker's neck and jaw as he repeated himself. "Really cute..."
"You know you are going to hurt my self confidence answering with so much uncertainty like that." Tucker was only half teasing but he did tend to tell the truth even when it was something that should embarrass him. Reaching up he wrapped his arms around Michael's shoulders, gently sliding his fingers through Michael's hair leaning up even more to close the distance between their mouths. Soft at first. Slow. And then he put more of himself in it. Hungry for more.
"Sorry, I'm not uncertain," He admitted with a soft breath, his lips settling into an easy smile as Tucker reached up to wrap his arms around his shoulder's; fingers sliding through his hair, pulling him ever so slightly closer, as the younger leaned up into him. "Just wasn't expectin' that is all, I--" Michael whispered as his own hands found their way to Tucker's waist; anchoring him to the younger man as he ducked down and met the other's lean with his own.
"I want," the words were hushed, lost behind their lips as he slowly pressed into the kiss. "I want..." closing his eyes, he melted into the embrace. He started slow; patient; reserved; but that only lasted for a moment, or two, before Michael's hands were moving to wrap his arms around the younger's waist, hooking into the small of his back, as he pulled him more flush against himself and gave into the growing heat between them; groaning under his breath as he stubbornly latched onto Tucker's lips.
Parties were never his thing. Crowds. Loud noises. Obnoxious people. Vincent leaned over the edge of the roof and looked down. Nothing but the landscape around the mall for miles. No signs of life or un-life to bother him. The faint thump of the music coming from the floors below kept him company. Just like the beer can he had snatched earlier. Why bother going down there to make an appearance when he could just grab a six-pack and return to his post? Not that he needed to work 24/7, but there was just something about crowds that… made him feel uncomfortable. Maybe because he was a trained sniper and he liked to keep his eye on a specific someone and crowds made it difficult. Or maybe because he had never gotten used to being surrounded by so many people. It has always been him and his brother. Even during his military days. Perhaps it was because he was in no mood to celebrate. Why would he pretend to be happy when his other half was still missing? Not knowing where his brother was? It felt like half of his heart was missing.
As the door to the rooftop opened, Vincent barely moved. Just enough to turn his head to see who was coming up there. To see who probably needed some distance from the loud music and the potential drunk assholes that would definitely use the celebration as an excuse the let loose. He said nothing. He merely brought his beer can to his lips before his attention returned to the dark horizon, usually as silent as a grave if not for the music coming from below. He understood the need to catch some air. To distance oneself from the chaos that was the party. Who better than someone that avoided those things like a plague to understand?
“There’s enough room for both of us here.” Vince could almost count the breathing pattern of the other man from where he was. And while he valued solitude, he wasn’t exactly opposed to company… assuming it was in smaller dosages and not in crowds. “Grab a beer if you're in the mood.” He pushed the six-pack to the side with his boot, blue eyes returning to the dead horizon before them. “Too hot inside?” He could already catch the imaginary whiff of sweat and booze coming from the celebration. Hear the loud, drunken cheers. Disgusting. “Take your time. I doubt many will leave the party to come all the way up here.” Why go to the roof when they could go anywhere within the mall to do whatever the fuck they wanted? “It’s all good.”
"Yeah, I can-- I can see that." Placing his hands on his hips, he glanced around at his surroundings and almost forgot how horrible their reality was; it was strangely peaceful up there.
Shaking his head back and forth a bit, a useless habit that he liked to think helped him clear his head of thoughts he didn't like, he furrowed his brow as his attention was pulled away from the edge of the roof to the six-pack of beer being kicked towards him. "Beers okay after liquor, right?" He didn't wait for an answer to the question though. In that moment it really didn't matter. He was in no position to turn down a drink being offered to him and, well, the can would give him something to sate the oral fixation that tonight seemed to awaken in him; even if it only lasted for a minute or two. "Thanks," he mumbled as he walked forward and bent down to grab a can for himself.
"You could say that," he answered with a somewhat nervous laugh as he cracked open the beer and took a heavy gulp from it.
"You, uh, you come up here often?" Michael questioned softly, his eyes stuck on the man beside him as he moved to take a seat nearby. "I don't think we've met before is all, which would make sense if you spend a lot of time up here." He was starting to ramble a bit. "I didn't even realize we had a roof access like this, then again I haven't been here that long so there's probably plenty about this place I still don't know..."
"I'm Michael by the way; or Mike; or anything works, really."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Small gasps continued to escape him as his newly sensitive cock was thoroughly cleaned with a soft tongue. "Ya know how to flatter, pretty," he complimented, continuing to gently pet the other as they both came down.
"I'd like that," he admitted with a soft smile. "As long as you let me help you in return." He shifted his leg carefully, nudging his boot gently against the other's neglected and still clothed cock.
"I- I mean it," he huffed out with a soft laugh, his face still pressed against the side of the other's cock as he took deep, heavy breaths; inhaling the way he smelled as he tried to catch his breath. "I- I forgot how much I liked doin' that..." Michael smiled softly as he felt the hand gently carding through his hair and petting him as the pair of them continued to ride out the come down.
"Good, I'm-- I'm glad you said that. I would hate for this to be a one of thing..." he huffed before the other's questioning allowed his own attention to finally realize, or recognize, his own aching arousal uncomfortable smothered by his jeans at the moment. "I, uh," the man shuddered softly at the feeling of the other's boot nudging against his confined hardness. "Okay, yes, we can b-but," he answered, his words breathy, as he began to push away from the other so he could stand up next to him. "I-- I don't know that I'll last very long. Don'-- don't hold that against me?"
A few more deep thrusts were all it took for Klaus to finally cum down the other's throat. His grip became painfully tight as his whole body tensed and his cum spurted out. "Drink it all for me, pretty," he asked gently, mindful of making a mess of his cot. His grip relaxed after another moment, and he gently carded his fingers through Michael's hair, winding down, but still enjoying all the slick sounds and moans coming from the other's mouth.
Klaus had come sooner than he wanted to, but he hoped that the other might be willing to go again in the future. He was eager to teach him more about fooling around with a buddy.
Michael gagged again as the other tensed in his mouth; as the first spurt shot into the back of his throat. He recovered well enough, managing to swallow the rest with more ease though some spilled out of his mouth from the sides and dribbled down the length of the man's cock but Michael was quick to lick and suck it up; eagerly chasing after every last drop while doing his best not to make a mess of the other's space where he slept. "Taste better than the whiskey..."
Despite letting the other fall from his mouth, Michael remained there on his knees; his face pressed firmly into the other's crotch area, his lips against the side of the man's cock; licking and kissing at it between quick, stolen breaths.
"Can," he whispered as he looked up at the other again. "Can we do that again...?"
Meeting his gaze, Klaus was flattered by the sight of this man, clearly desperate for his cock. There was no way he was going to last long against the other's determination. Using one hand to brace himself, he curled his fingers into Michael's hair again, not forcing him down, but preventing him from pulling away.
He rolled his hips, properly fucking his mouth as he felt himself quickly growing closer. "I'm going to cum in your pretty mouth," he warned, letting himself get lost in the sensation of his head hitting the back of his throat. He was careful not to be too forceful, but his pace was quickening as his eyes fell shut.
His breathing heavy, he kept his eyes locked up on the other as he managed to find a bit more confidence in the bobbing of his head. He was still gagging every other swallow, but now it was less of a sign of inexperience and more of a declaration of Michael's desire to please him; to take every last inch of him down his throat while he sat back and enjoyed himself.
Groaning, his nostrils flaring as the sound vibrated in his mouth and throat around the other man, his eyes began to flutter between being opened and closed as the man began rolling his hips; fucking into Michael's mouth as he told him he was going to cum in his mouth; as he called him pretty.
The wet sounds of his eager sucking only grew louder, more desperate even, as he began moving his head back and forth with more fervor. His movements were sloppy still but determined. He wanted the man to cum; he wanted to taste his load, and swallow it if he could. He just wanted to be good for him.
heath couldn't help but smile a little as he watched the other man's body react to him. to the way his hand was pumping his cock torturously slow, and how warm his body had become as he planted kisses gingerly over michael's forehead. this was not him asserting control over the other really. he just wanted to make sure that the other man was enjoying his reward to its fullest, to recognize his hard work in being part of his team in a way that he knew he would enjoy. a way that would send his mind into the hands of pleasure.
" that's a good boy ... a good fucking boy ... " he whispered, his hand continuing its bobbing motion until he could feel the other's body beginning to tighten. the other man's breath beginning to quicken, even his cock twitching. but instead of letting him cum, heath slowed down his motion and loosened his grip. he kept the motion only at the base of the other's raging cock. he smirked. " oop, no. you gotta tell me when you're about to cum, baby. you can't spoil your reward like that. do you understand? "
A simple thank you would have probably been enough for Michael but, honestly, that was never going to be admitted now; not when his work had earned him a prize like this.
He felt like putty in Heath's hands. Laying back against the man who was effectively his boss, his superior, Michael was a moaning and sweating mess as the man's hands expertly worked over him and worked him over. He had no idea he could feel this good just from someone touching him.
Tipping his head forward, his beard tickling against his own chest as one of Heath's arms hooked around his neck to hold him in place, he closed his eyes as he felt his body tense; as he felt himself approaching that edge of euphoria. Instead of reaching his climax, though, those damn near hypnotizing ministrations of Heath's hand over his length dropped lower and loosened around him; still allowing him some friction while keeping him from being able to climax from it. "Y-yes," he whimpered, his breath shuddering as his lips brushed against Heath's wrist; somewhat kissing the man's joint as he nodded along to the new rule. "Yes Sir... I'm-- I'm so close... fuck I'm so close... b-but I-- I don't want it to be over yet..."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Klaus was transfixed by the sight and sounds of the other working his mouth over his cock. Anything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. Several rough groans escaped his own mouth and he resisted pushing the other man beyond his limits.
His efforts failed, and he immediately released his grip when the other started choking. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words died on his tongue as he was once again engulfed by a warm, wet heat.
"Fuck, pretty. It's either been a while, or you're better with your mouth than I thought," he mused, cupping his face and rubbing his thumb over his cheek to feel the impression of his length. It was probably both, but neither mattered to Klaus in that moment. "You're doing so good," he praised through another groan as he felt his tip hit the back of his throat.
He was intoxicated by it all; by the way the man tasted on his tongue, in his throat; by the feeling of his hands in his hair; by the sounds he made, praising Michael for his efforts despite his lack talent. He was drunk off it, and drunk for it; he needed more; wanted more.
Without pulling away, coughing but keeping himself wrapped around the other's length, he looked up with wet, glassy eyes filled with lust; his saliva coating the other's cock and dribbling down his shaft, pushed by Michael's lips, to dampen his balls as he fell back into a pattern; bobbing his head back and forth.
He worked himself back down again, swallowing the man's length inch by inch until he felt the head rubbing against the back of his throat. The sensation made him gag again but the sound of struggle was quickly followed by a muffled moan. He was enjoying this; especially knowing that the man was enjoying it too.
Murphy had been watching from the skee ball lane for a good five minutes before he finally wandered over, Chevy padding silently at his left heel the way the spaniel always did. The dog's nose had caught something the moment Michael pulled the rubber bone from the drop zone, and now Chevy sat with an almost dignified stillness just behind Murphy's knee, amber eyes fixed on the pink object with an intensity that bordered on professional. His tail hadn't wagged once. This was business.
Murphy let the corner of his mouth curl when Michael fumbled through his question about what exactly one was supposed to do with a bone that said BITE ME in bubble letters. He let the man finish, or not finish, really, the sentence just kind of dissolved from what he could tell as he could still hear the arcade noise around them. "Could always use it as a weapon." he said, his voice carrying the faint flatness he always spoke in. His chin tilted once toward the bone, looking at it with a smirk. "Thing's solid enough. Might even shut somebody up with it." He gave a pause, the kind that suggested he'd met people who'd needed shutting up. "More than once." He said as he tapped his foot anxiously. Chevy pawed at the movement and it slowed.
He glanced down at Chevy then, the smirk softening into something almost fond around the edges. The spaniel hadn't moved. Hadn't whined. Hadn't done anything so undignified as paw at Murphy's leg. He simply sat, long ears framing that broad, freckled face, with the kind of soulful, unblinking focus that Brittany spaniels had apparently been put on this earth to weaponize. His gaze hadn't left the bone since Michael pulled it out of the machine. "He wants to make a trade." Murphy murmured, nodding once toward the dog before his gaze drifted sideways to the glass case. His eyes moved across the prizes as he took inventory of what was there. The same sweep he gave a tree line before he committed to crossing open ground. Passed over the plastic-wrapped keychains. The stuffed frogs with their lopsided button eyes. A dolphin that had no business being that ghastly pink color. And then stopped at the bear with the heart.
Small. Brown. Holding a heart. Utterly generic in the way that only carnival prizes and cheap bargain bins could produce. He looked at Michael. Held his gaze for a moment. Then pointed, two fingers, and tapped the glass once with his knuckle. A single, quiet knock. "That one?" He didn't wait for the answer and brushed by the older man to lean on the machine. His hand came up to the small processor tucked behind his ear and clicked it off in one smooth, practiced motion, the gesture of someone who had made peace with the switch a long time ago, and the world went clean and still. The arcade's noise didn't fade so much as vanish. No cascading tokens, no synthesized music bleeding from every cabinet, no distant shriek of a child losing their last token. Just silence. He fed a token into the machine. Watched the claw descend.
His expression shifted, not into concentration exactly, but into a kind of focus that sat differently on his face than his usual guardedness did. Looser around the jaw. Steadier in the eyes. Like the noise going out had given some wound-up thing in his chest permission to unclench, just slightly, just for now. He moved the joystick with the patience of someone who had learned that forcing the mechanism never helped. He waited for the slight mechanical drift to settle. Dropped it. The claw came back up with the bear held neatly in its grip, and Murphy watched it travel the full length of the track with the same level expression he might've given a clean shot landing exactly where he'd called it. Watched it drop into the zone. He clicked his implant back on, sound rushing in like a tide, crouched, and retrieved the bear through the small door.
Rising fluidly he turned back to Michael and held the bear out at arm's length, dangling it slightly from his grip. "Here. You called dibs." His eyes dropped to the bear. Then back up to Michael. "Fair warning, it doesn't actually have a heartbeat. But at three in the morning, you probably won't care." The smirk returned, quieter than before. He pushed the bear a half-inch further toward Michael's chest. Chevy, for his part, looked up at Murphy with an expression of profound betrayal.
"A weapon?" Looking down at the bright pink bone in his hand, he turned it in his grip and weighed it in his hand with a few soft swings as he considered what the younger man had said. "You might be onto somethin' there. It's got a decent weight to it, and it's definitely solid." He mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. "Definitely makes more sense than what I was thinking." He didn't explain himself further but there were some context clues there; namely in the way he opened his mouth a bit wider than necessary, especially while not talking, and lifted the toy towards his face as if he were about to bite down on it himself.
Thankfully he didn't fully commit to the thought. Stopping himself, before he suffered any further embarrassment, he did his best to salvage the moment with a loose shrug of his shoulders as he let his attention shift off the brightly colored toy and back to the person talking with him. "He wants to make a trade?"
If it had been a snake it would have bitten him.
Following the other's nod, he let his attention drop even further to settle on the well trained spaniel sitting politely beside him; zeroed in on the toy in Michael's hand. "Well where did you come from? Aren't you well behaved." Taking a step forward, Michael had every intention to give the dog even more of his attention. He had a weakness for dogs. He liked cats too, he wasn't a monster, but when he was younger he had always wanted a dog of his own and he had even planned to get one, with his wife, to make up for the fact his parents never let him have one. Of course, that was before the world went to hell but even the monster's that plagued their lives now couldn't touch the love he had for dogs.
"Huh, oh, yeah. That bear. I know it's not much but it--" it reminded him of one of the first one's he won for his wife, back when they were just high school sweethearts, and it also looked like the softest toy in the case; the easiest to cuddle; the easiest to sleep with. His bed was otherwise empty and, well, he could use all the help he could get right now if he wanted to actually rest.
He went to say more, to explain that he didn't have to win him the bear-- he'd figure it out on his own-- but there was no point in wasting his breath. The other was brushing past him with a look of determination that begged to not be disrupted; a focus worth respecting.
It was actually nice to get to watch, for once, someone else that knew how to work a claw machine. Granted, Michael made a note that the other man was certainly more surgical about his approach than he was, but it was none the less impressive to see him retrieve the bear with precision and ease.
"Not sure what that's supposed to mean, I know it doesn't actually have a heartbeat, but, uh, thanks." He mumbled, his default seeming to be muddled words and breaths through a tight lipped smile, as the bear was dangled in the space between them; hanging in front of his chest as expectant eyes stared up at him and waited for his answer. "You know, I would have just given you the bone if you had asked," Michael explained as he made the trade and handed over the chew toy.
