#drabpackers

Anyone could’ve caught them like this, theoretically. There weren’t within the confines of their shared apartment. Not technically. It was Dieter’s idea to take Robin up to the roof of the building. He always loved the view of the city from up there, and the younger angel had never seen it for himself. The fact that nobody ever bothered going up to the roof also made it the perfect place for Dieter to absolutely wreck Robin with sex. 

It started, as it usually did, with Robin giving Dieter head. The boy was shockingly good at sucking dick for someone as sweet and innocent-seeming as Robin, but Dieter knew better than to underestimate his lover’s potential for craven lust. Even the occasional instances wherein Robin choked on the unbelievable length of his tool, he still managed to do it in such a cute, wholesome way that only filled Dieter with more corruptive desire. Nobody said angels had to be pure.

But then Robin —once again— showed off just how perverted he could be by suggesting Dieter fuck him over the edge of the railing, presenting his supple, round ass for the taking. Gonna be the death of me, this boy, Dieter thought as he wasted no time spitting into his hand, rubbing the slick onto his cock, and sliding all the way inside Robin’s tight hole like they’d done so many times befor.e

Robin’s ass was, pardon the pun, heavenly. No doubt about it. So warm and goddamn tight you would be forgiven for mistaking Robin as a virgin. Not since Dieter entered the picture, that was for certain. Sometimes Dieter took things easy and went gentle on his beloved’s body, as to avoid leaving marks that were visible to any passing eyes.

Not this time.

Something about the heat of the situation prevented Dieter from self-consciously ravishing Robin like he may normally, instead plowing into Robin’s lithe body from behind with punishing, sturdy thrusts, knowing he would surely leave marks at Robin’s hips when they were done, among other places.

"Meine liebe... meine herz... meine engle...” Dieter grunts, his massive, heaving chest flat against Robin’s back as he spared the young man no mercy. He wasn’t even concerned about raising noise complaints from neighbors like usual, because who would’ve heard them? God himself?

(Actually, maybe he should have been a trifle more concerned about that...)

Dieter wasn’t fated to last long like this, and neither was Robin for that matter. Gripping onto Robin’s sides harder, Dieter bucks into Robin’s body with complete desperation, wanting nothing more than to fill the boy’s insides with hot, sticky seed—

And then he comes with howl, feeling the spurts of his orgasm shoot within Robin, feeling spurts of it escape from inside and trickle down Robin’s ass. A job well done.

“Fuck—” Dieter pants, pretty sure that Robin’s orgasm had already come and gone too since he shot his load, still lodged inside that snug space and unwilling to leave. Not just yet.

He grabs Robin by the chin and turns it around to face him, wanting to commit this rendezvous to memory: the sight of his beautiful lover totally blissed out on fucking, knowing he belonged to Dieter and nobody else. “"Liebe dich—” he says, pulling Robin into a tender, soft kiss, as though it were an apology for practically treating him like an inanimate fuck toy just moments earlier. “Love you so much.”

In the decades Garrett and Arnold were together, their sex always remained fairly vanilla, and the two seemed content to keep it that way. But lately Garrett couldn’t shake the feeling that things had grown stale between them. Maybe he was just paranoid, maybe there was some truth to the staleness he perceived, but either way he knew it couldn’t hurt to bring it up to Arnold.

Garrett obviously felt relieved when Arnold agreed they could try spicing things up in the bedroom. But because they were so vanilla together, neither of them could think of how to spice things up. They had toys somewhere, likely hidden somewhere in a storage container they would never find quickly. Public sex? Probably not right away. Garrett’s crippling sense of anxiety, even with the aid of meditation and medication, would sabotage it immedately.

“What about spanking?” was Garrett’s eventual play. Arnold was receptive.

He felt so dumb like this, hoisting himself on all fours like a dog on their bed. But once Arnold pulled down his pants to reveal Garrett’s plump (and impressively shapely) ass cheeks to the night air, he started to accept his fate. But even the knowledge of what was to come wasn’t enough.

"Mmph—” Garrett moans out loud, not totally prepared for that first smack on his ass. This was all new to them, but him especially, being on the receiving end of things. But it wasn’t unwelcome either. “I’m good, I’m— just do that again. Don’t stop,” he gasps out, surprised by how sexy this already was for him. “Make me feel it, Arnie. You won’t break me. Promise.”

And then another thwack, this one slightly harder. Within seconds, Garrett felt his clothed dick start to stiffen and ooze pre-come. Sticking his ass out further, he couldn’t deny the thrill that this rough treatment filled him with.

Maybe getting a little kinky wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

It always seemed like it came down to this with them. It seemed impossible for Paulo and Cyrus to keep their clothes on in each others’ company, but could you really blame either of them? They were certifiable specimens of male perfection, both in different ways. Paulo: tall, dark, and handsome, with some big tits and an even bigger ass to match. Cyrus: also tall, not quite as dark, and just as handsome, with all the strapping ruggedness you could want in a man like him. They were a real picture of beauty together. 

Another picture of beauty? Paulo, fully nude and erect, wishing Cyrus would just do something to satisfy him. Suck his dick, make Paulo suck his, fill his tight little mancunt with all the cock it could take... anything. Anything except nothing. Cyrus was nothing if not a cheeky little sadist, when he wanted to be.

(And when Paulo wanted him to be.)

“You’re giving me fuckin’ blue balls here, Cy—” Paulo moans, writhing around on the bed like a fish out of water, his heavy, muscular chest heaving on each breath. Paulo knew Cyrus got off on denying him what he clearly wanted, making me whine and beg for it like a little bitch. His bitch. 

And Paulo hated knowing that even if he had the choice for instant gratification or not, he would still pick the teasing treatment.

“Just fuckin’ do something,” he continues, his voice raspy from carnal desperation. Paulo could feel his stiff erection swinging with each movement, as slight as they may be, the pre-come oozing at the tip starting to dribble down his shaft and onto the bed beneath him, smearing the lower end of his meaty ass in a perverted sheen of slick. He knew his tits looked incredible at this angle, too; Cyrus could’ve fucked him if he really wanted to right about now. But clearly, he would much rather enjoy torturing his massive lover like this.

That fuckin’ asshole.

The way Cyrus turned the Bear into a willing participant in submission never failed to astound him. The Aussie made a name for himself as one of the most hot-blooded, sexually dominant tops in the entire porn industry, but with Cyrus? He was a smirking, greedy little power bottom who wanted every last inch of his lover’s cock inside him, and everything else that came with it. 

He especially came to love getting spanked, after years of him being the one to deliver such a treatment to his bottoms on and off the porn set. Something about impact play, especially knowing how good and hard Cyrus was capable of smacking him, fuck. There was nothing better — well, except a nice, long dicking when his ass was properly tenderized and bruised. If only his thousands of followers had access to this POV of their favorite star...

“That’s it, mate, smack my arse,” Bear says, gladly accepting the blows as Cyrus delivered them. Haunched on all fours with his meaty rear fully exposed and pushed out, he knew Cyrus wouldn’t be able to resist. He never did.

Most people preferred it if their hookups departed the moment they blew their loads, but not Kai. He liked waking up next to a perfect stranger and having to reacquaint himself with them... however the situation called for. Usually it just meant getting either (or both) of his holes fucked to oblivion again, but hey, Kai just lived in the moment. Whatever happens, happens...

It wasn’t his missing clothes upon coming to consciousness that helped him recall what happened the night prior (Kai always slept in the nude, because of course he did) but rather the hulking, warm body beneath him. Then he remembered why he suddenly felt a faint pain in the ass, smirking at the thought of yet another night taking a deep, rough pounding from some random customer he met in the surf shop. What was his name... Simon? Or was it Cyrus? Irrelevant right now, either way.

“Mornin,” growls Kai, rustling awake atop the other man’s powerful chest, looking up at the handsome face that was previously obscured by moonlight when he last saw it. This guy was definitely handsome, in that rugged manly-man way that Kai often found himself so attracted to. The pure sense of testosterone wafting off him didn’t hurt, either.

He leans his chin on the man’s pectoral, offering a lazily adoring glance at the adonis in his bed —which, for Kai’s own standard, was saying something. “Not in a rush to get going, are you? You don’t got any pressing plans to wake up for?” asks Kai teasingly, as though he ever made an effort to open the shop up promptly at 11, or 12, or... whenever he felt bothered enough to start his day.

Without answering his trick’s question directly, Kai heaves himself off the other’s body, turns around, and plops his heavy, voluptuous chest down flat on the mattress, matter-of-factly hoisting his thick, meaty ass up. His back wasn’t a perfect, complete arch —he hadn’t even enjoyed his morning/afternoon coffee yet— but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an impeccable view for anyone to witness either. “Hope you got a few more loads in you, stud...”

Dick wasn’t stupid, per se, but the world always kinda moved around him without offering much of an opportunity to reflect on the day’s events. Life in quarantine with Rod didn’t register much of a difference to him. Sure, Rod was always around now (not sure how that arrangement set itself up) but all it meant was way more sex than they used to have previously. Not a bad thing, but still weird. 

The fact that he had enough gym equipment at his place to leave his workout routine mostly in place despite mass shutdowns of public establishments also didn’t hurt the feeling of overall normalcy for Dick. He and Rod basically spent their days doing one of two things: working out, and fucking. All things considered, was the current situation really all that bad? His wasn’t, anyway...

But Dick was usually so focused on his workouts in the moment that he never usually considered combining the two —exercise and sex— in the same space, so consider him flustered and taken back when Rod planted his meaty ass on Dick’s chest between curl-ups, taking his mouth into a steamy kiss right there on the floor. “What’s up with you, man?” he asks, panting for breath with a satisfied —yet confused— grin. “But, uh, now that you kinda just gave me a stiffy, you mind doing something about it...?”

Moving in with Graham was probably the best decision Felix ever made, and that included other developments like touring with Britney Spears and fucking many of his fellow backup dancers while touring with Britney Spears. Rarely a day passed that didn’t involve some sort of sexual shenanigans... until they were forced to stay inside together for an undetermined length of time.

Something about their sex lives being confined to their condo made the proceedings less exciting. No more beach sex, no more car sex, no more— you get the picture. Which isn’t to say it never happened anymore, but the same spark wasn’t there. Nothing that rivaled that month in paradise when they first met, anyway. 

The days since stay-at-home orders blended together real quickly. Sometimes they managed to work up some enthusiasm to have sex in whatever way palatable —Felix didn’t even feel up to giving Graham blowjobs half of the time, which was when things really became apparent) but it was no longer expected, and that bummed Felix out.

But since Felix was much more outwardly extraverted and social than his brooding lover, he felt the onus was on him to make sense of everything happening between them. He needed to clear the air.

During dinner one night —which neither of them made themselves obviously, praise DoorDash— Felix figured now was as good a time as any. “Hey, so I just wanted to talk about us for a minute,” he began, sitting up straighter. “I know we haven’t been our usual selves lately... all of this is hitting me harder than it is for you. I don’t want you to think I’ve lost interest in us or anything, okay? I just miss everything being, y’know, normal. But I promise I wanna stay. Here. With you,” he says, looking up at Graham’s handsome face with a faint smile. “You still love me, right? Cause I still love you— just in case you weren’t sure,” he continued, extending his leg out to touch Graham’s under the table in a show of affection.

The size difference between Jude and Gus was often comical. Gus was literally big enough so that he could rest his chin on Jude’s head if he wanted, and that was just one example of how visually mismatched they were. Not that either of them complained; the discrepancy was frequently a source of amusement (and arousal) for both of them. But it did make baths a logistical hassle.

"We need to get a bigger tub,” Jude groans, trying to work himself into a comfortable position behind Gus, water sloshing around them carelessly. It was difficult enough sharing a bath with his lover because of the latter’s sheer enormity, but then you have to account for the inevitable boner caused by Jude feeling his cock graze against Gus’ smooth, muscular lower backside...

Gus was lucky (or cursed) to have a partner ten years his junior, with all the stamina and shortened refractory periods they came with...

After a little more hassle, the twosome finally laid comfortably together in their post-coital glow, sitting in the warm water that surrounded them. Jude normally hated baths, but that was before he had a gigantic man to share them with, so now he enjoyed a bath every now and then. 

“Kinda don’t want this whole quarantine thing to end,” he says lazily, his words muffled into the crook of Gus’ long, thick neck. (It seemed every part of him was long and thick.) “I do not miss driving around drunk college girls and skeevy old pervs for basically nothing... plus it means we won’t get to spend all day together... all nights too...” he continues, reaching up to Gus’ defined chest, toying with his erect nipples. “But also you’re probably gonna get sick of me sooner than later, so they better hurry up with that vaccine—”