#fenixdrabble

It was like Ramón was unconscious one moment and suddenly very conscious the next. That was putting it mildly. How or when he got naked with Guillermo was a mystery. All he knew was that the older man was jerking off directly above his face, as though he was purposefully aiming for it. Ramón would’ve been startled by this encounter if he didn’t find it so arousing.

Ramón always thought Guillermo was hot, obviously, but just because he thought someone was attractive didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with them. At least not immediately. His friends always teased him for being so old-fashioned about sex, needing to know someone before getting into bed with them. But for whatever reason, that whole waiting period had been vetoed in this instance.

“Diabl— Guillermo, fuck,” he pants, preparing himself for impact. Guillermo’s orgasm seemed imminent, and Ramón wanted to be ready for when the moment came, feeling his colleague’s hot white load blasting on his—

And then it happened, Guillermo painting Ramón’s tanned face and pink tongue with more jizz than he’d ever seen —or tasted— in his life. 

And then he was awake, alone, with a notable lack of sperm coating his visage.

Even though they only just met, Ramón felt like he knew Clay for much longer. There was a common bond between them that wasn’t immediately apparent; a familiarity he couldn’t shake. When they finally got on the same page about what they shared, Ramón felt an even greater connection to the so-called “Golden Boy.” One he never experienced with anybody else.

It didn’t take long for certain... fantasies to materialize, usually late at night during pangs of carnal urges. These weren’t just dreams. They felt real. Ramón wished they were real.

Tonight he found himself on the receiving end of Clayton’s brute strength, taking a world-class fucking from his would-be lover. “Clay... fuck...” Ramón moans through gritted teeth, focusing on the non-stop sensations coursing through his heaving body. His cunt gripped around his lover’s fake cock, clenching and releasing with perfect timing each and every time. Even in this (imagined) sexual encounter, he and Clay were perfectly in sync.

“Gonna make me—” is all he can muster with words, arching his back into a delicate curve as Clay drove into him, chasing both their inevitable orgasms. A few more thrusts, and then Ramón finally falls off the edge, gushing around Clay’s thick intruder—

And then he wakes up in a cold sweat, his briefs soiled by a damp patch of slick from his nocturnal rendezvous with the object of his lust.

Ramón often felt embarrassed by his natural tendency to assume a submissive role with his sexual partners. He knew how he must have looked to people: tall, strong, muscular. Guys like him were take-charge types who dominated their lovers like they were fighting them in war. Maybe it was just societal expectations mixed with his cultural upbringing that instilled certain beliefs about masculinity in him, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to play the other side.

He just didn’t expect to do it with Nathaniel in this dream-like state, wherein he wasn’t sure if this was real or not.

Ramón came to some consciousness to realize he was the one thrusting into the other’s perky, supple ass with deep, driving strokes. (He hadn’t brought a strap-on with him to campus, yet he somehow found one attached to his person...) Even if he couldn’t feel the inside of Nathaniel’s ass like he would’ve if he could use his own dick to penetrate the other deeply enough, everything else about this rendezvous was there. The rush of testosterone, feeling his lover’s sweaty, tender body writhing with him, the smell of sex in the air—

It was all too much. Within moments, the friction stimulating his crotch on each thrust sent shockwaves through his body, rewarding him with a well-earned orgasm as his hip movements stilled against the other, panting for breath as he came down from his high.

“Fuck— was that real?”

Samson was deceivingly strong. Though obviously in amazing shape, worthy enough to make even Ramón feel insecure about his ripped physique, Samson was definitely no Torque in the build department. He was tall, lean, and spry in ways that a beefsteak like the Advocates’ founder wasn’t. So needless to say, Ramón was surprised Samson had the strength to fuck him against the wall like he weighed nothing.

If only he could remember how they got here.

“Sams—” he begins, whining into the crook of Umbran’s neck as he rode the firm, reliable shockwaves of the blond’s powerful thrusts, filling Ramón to his core. His velvety walls clenched around the intruder as though they were literally fused together, hitting his special spot on just about every forceful push inside. He couldn’t remember the last time he got fucked this good.

Did Samson ever use his ability during sex, Ramón wonders? How would that feel? Maybe he’d find out if they continued fucking like this, without regard for anybody around them who might hear...

Ramón really admired Dominic’s stoic, masculine demeanor, but he didn’t have any idea just how sexually attracted he was to the guy until he felt the older man’s long, thick fingers, spreading him open. 

How did this even happen? Ramón couldn’t recall the circumstances leading up to this encounter, but he found it hard to care when Dominic felt so good like this. Was this another one of his superpowers? Jesus Christ—

“Oh—!” Ramón moans out in abandon, frantically rubbing his clit as Dominic filled his tight ass with those satisfying digits. “Dom, you’re gonna make me—” he whines, trying to stave off his inevitable orgasm, wanting this to last as long as it could. But his efforts were ultimately in vain, and he soon experiences a white-hot rush of release cascading down his spine to the rest of his body, gushing slick fluid from his pussy down to his asshole, meeting Dominic’s fingers.

“Goddamn...”