#dominatingu

"Great," Dante says, a warm smiling lighting up his face. He couldn't help but glance down the narrow torso of the younger boy as he stripped to the waist. Damn if he wasn't a perfect little thing. The shimmer of sweat across his torso, the tight yet soft lines of his stomach, and the way his jeans hung off his waist, with the extra spaces at the top that Dante swore his could just slide his finger into...

Fuck, this was a dangerous line of thought. Dante instinctively raised his hand to rub along his mouth and chin to control his hands and keep him from breaking several labor laws. "Have you ever had a shower beer?" he asked, eyebrow quirking. "Cold beer, hot shower. An experience you will not soon forget." He jerked his chin towards the house just up a hill from the barn. "Go grab us whatever beers are in the fridge, would you? And like, anything you wanna roast on the fire. I'll get the shower running." Dante took off then, heading for the backside of the barn. Along the rear wall was a metal bar with holes poked in it like a watering can, set above a paved floor that was angled so water would run off of it into the grass and dirt around the bar. Two knobs were attached directly to the wall, and they led to the back side of the barn, where a water heater had been installed. Dante just had to light the pilot in the heater and open the gas valve. Then they could head the water to the outdoor shower. Dante always felt better after an outdoor shower.

That's where Marty would find Dante when he returned, bent over at the waist, using a long-handled lighter to get the water going so they could take their shower. Dante adjusted the bulge in his jeans, because the fantasy of his new ranch-hand naked in the outdoor shower with him was already making his cock stir. "Down boy," he chastised himself with a chuckled.

Fabian allowed himself to be pulled inside, nervous but wickedly curious. He expected the whole place to be like one of those kinky sex dungeons, with latex and spikes and whips everywhere. But it was just...a home. A place to be. Simple and stylish. Fabian wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Did he want this guy to be a sex fanatic? Did he want to be in his house if he was? This was probably for the best.

Then the man, Fabian believed his name was James from all the orders, mentioned his "rules" and Fabian already knew he didn't meant something like taking your shoes off at the door. He was curious again. "What rules are you talking about?" Fabian asked, following James deeper into his house without thinking. He was too preoccupied in getting his answers to be cautious.

When James arrived in the living room, and made his proclamation, Fabian guffawed, sure he wasn't serious. "That's a good one. I think I'd make a terrible ch..." Fabian's voice trailed off, because the gaze James had wasn't one of somebody joking. Then Fabian remembered all the other times, all the sex he'd heard through the door. "...wait are you serious? How would that even work? I know the internet says 'sit on me' or 'step on me', but wouldn't I need to breathe?" It was probably telling that Fabian's immediate concerned was safety, and not someone asking him to shove his nose up their ass. Not that the delivery boy clocked the distinction.