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Chapter Text

Joaquin Torres lay sprawled across the rumpled sheets, his body bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The room was a disarray of clothes, towels, and the faint scent of sweat mingling with the lingering aroma of their arousal. His eyes were tightly shut, a silent plea for more of the heavenly sensation that was currently consuming him.

Brock Rumlow, muscular and determined, hovered above Joaquin, his strong hands gripping the other man's thighs. His tongue danced around the delicate folds of Joaquin's pussy with a finesse that spoke of a man who knew exactly how to make his partner beg for release. Joaquin's breaths grew ragged and his moans grew louder with every flick and stroke of Brock's skilled mouth. The wetness pooled, a testament to Joaquin's body's response to the intimate attention it was receiving.

Brock looked up, his eyes dark with desire, and met Joaquin's gaze. The connection was electric, and Joaquin could see the smoldering need reflected in Brock's eyes. He knew that his lover was just as invested in this moment as he was, and it only served to drive him closer to the edge. Brock's grip tightened, and he slid a finger inside, curling it in a way that made Joaquin's eyes roll back in his head. The feeling was indescribable, a perfect symphony of pleasure that resonated through his entire being.

Joaquin's moans grew more fervent, his hips bucking up to meet Brock's face. Brock responded with a low growl, his beard tickling Joaquin's sensitive skin as he redoubled his efforts. He swirled his tongue around the swollen clit, savoring the taste of Joaquin's desire. Joaquin's legs tightened around Brock's head, his toes curling in ecstasy. He reached down, threading his fingers through Brock's hair, holding him in place as the tension within him grew unbearable.

With a final, desperate thrust of his finger, Brock felt Joaquin's muscles clench around him. The moan that tore from Joaquin's throat was raw and primal, a testament to the power of the orgasm that crashed over him. Brock didn't stop, though. He knew Joaquin could take more, and he was eager to give it. He pushed another finger inside, feeling the walls quiver with the aftershocks of pleasure. Joaquin's nails dug into the flesh of Brock's forearms, leaving half-moons of pain that only added to the intensity of the moment.

Pulling his hand away, Brock's fingers glistened with Joaquin's arousal. He brought them to Joaquin's mouth, the scent of their combined pleasure heavy in the air. "Taste yourself," he murmured, his voice a gruff command. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, and he looked up at Brock with a mix of shock and desire. Without hesitation, he parted his lips and took the offered digits, his tongue swirling around them, cleaning them of their shared essence. The taste was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that sent a shiver down his spine.

Brock watched with hooded eyes as Joaquin eagerly licked and sucked his fingers. The sight of Joaquin's pink tongue gliding over his skin was almost too much to bear. He groaned, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He reached down and pulled them off, revealing his thick, hard cock. Joaquin's eyes widened in appreciation, and he reached up to stroke it, his own desire rekindling with the sight of Brock's arousal.

"Do you get overstimulated easily?" Brock asked, his voice a low rumble. It was a question that had been on his mind for a while. Joaquin's reactions were so intense, so all-consuming, that he wondered if there was a fine line between pleasure and pain for his lover.

Joaquin looked up at Brock with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Sometimes," he admitted, his voice a breathy whisper. "But with you, it's... different." He licked his lips, the taste of himself still lingering on them. "You just know how to push all the right buttons."

Brock's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" He positioned himself between Joaquin's legs, aligning his cock with the slick entrance to Joaquin's pussy. "Then let's find out just how much you can handle."

With one smooth motion, Brock pushed into Joaquin, filling him completely. Joaquin's body arched off the bed, a sharp cry escaping his lips as the sensation overwhelmed him. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and pressure, and he never wanted it to end. Brock stilled for a moment, giving Joaquin time to adjust before he began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had Joaquin's body responding almost immediately.

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by Joaquin's gasps and Brock's grunts of effort. Joaquin's hand tightened around Brock's cock, his thumb tracing the vein along the length. The sight of Brock's muscles flexing and tensing as he drove into him was almost too much to handle, and Joaquin had to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

"Fuck," Brock breathed, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's. "You're so tight." He pushed deeper, his hips moving with a ferocity that seemed to match the beating of their hearts. Joaquin could feel every inch of Brock inside him, stretching him open and claiming him in a way that no one ever had. The intensity of the sensation was almost painful, but it was a pain that Joaquin craved, a pain that only served to fuel his desire.

Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head as Brock's thrusts grew harder and faster. His nails dug into the bedspread, his body moving in tandem with Brock's. The friction was exquisite, the feeling of being filled so completely by the man he loved was a high unlike any other. He could feel his orgasm building again, a slow burn that started in his core and spread outwards, threatening to consume him.

"Brock," Joaquin panted, his voice strained and desperate. "I'm gonna-"

Brock abruptly stopped, his cock buried to the hilt inside Joaquin. He pulled out with a deliberate slowness that made Joaquin whine in protest. "Not yet," he said, his voice a low growl of denial. "You haven't earned it."

Joaquin looked up at him, confusion and desire warring in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Brock's smirk grew. "You're too eager, mi amor," he said, his voice a low, teasing whisper. "You need to learn patience. You need to show me that you can handle it when I really give it to you."

Joaquin's eyes searched Brock's, the frustration of his unfulfilled need warring with the excitement of the challenge laid before him. He nodded, his breathing still ragged from the sudden cessation of their lovemaking. "What do I have to do?"

Brock leaned in, his breath hot against Joaquin's ear. "You have to show me that you can handle it," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise of more to come. "I want to see you beg for it."

With surprising gentleness, Brock reached for the silk scarf that had been carelessly tossed aside earlier. Joaquin's eyes followed the movement, his heart racing with anticipation and a hint of trepidation. Brock's fingers deftly tied the scarf around Joaquin's wrists, securing them to the wrought iron headboard of the bed. Joaquin tested the knots, finding them tight but not painful, a delicious sense of vulnerability washing over him.

Brock's gaze never left Joaquin's as he worked, his eyes dark with a need that was almost tangible. "Remember, you can always safe word," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through Joaquin's body.

Joaquin nodded, his heart racing. He felt the cool silk of the scarf against his wrists as they were secured to the headboard. The feeling of being utterly at Brock's mercy was a heady one, and he could feel his body responding, his pussy growing wetter, his nipples hardening into tight peaks.

Brock leaned over him, his broad chest pressing Joaquin into the mattress. He could feel the heat of Brock's breath as he whispered in his ear, "Now, let's see if you can take what I've got." He kissed him then, a bruising, claiming kiss that left Joaquin's mouth feeling swollen and used.

With his hands bound above his head, Joaquin could only watch as Brock reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. The cool liquid squirted onto his stomach and Brock's hand, the sound echoing through the quiet room. Joaquin's breath hitched as Brock's slick fingers trailed down his body, teasing his skin before finally settling between his legs. He felt the pressure build again as Brock pushed one, then two, and finally three fingers inside of him, stretching him open with a slow, torturous precision.

"Is this what you want?" Brock whispered, his voice low and taunting. "To be at my mercy, unable to do anything but take what I give you?" Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving Brock's, the desire in them unmistakable. The anticipation was a living thing within him, coiling tighter with every touch.

With a wicked smile, Brock squeezed more lube onto his hand, letting it dribble down onto Joaquin's stomach. The cool liquid slid down his body, pooling around the base of his cock and mixing with the sweat already glistening on his skin. He watched Joaquin's face contort in pleasure as he began to work the lube into his pussy once more, his eyes never leaving the bound man's face. Joaquin's moans grew louder, his hips rising off the bed to meet Brock's hand.

"You're so eager," Brock murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down Joaquin's spine. He pulled his hand away, leaving Joaquin whimpering for more. "But we're not there yet." He leaned over, his cock brushing against Joaquin's slick entrance, teasing him with the promise of release. Joaquin's eyes were wide with need, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a wicked grin, Brock leaned down and kissed him again, his tongue delving deep into Joaquin's mouth. He tasted himself on Brock's tongue, the intimacy of it making his stomach clench with arousal. Brock broke the kiss and moved back down his body, his mouth tracing a hot, wet path along Joaquin's neck and chest, down to his stomach, and finally to the apex of his thighs. Joaquin could feel the warmth of Brock's breath against his skin, the anticipation was unbearable.

Then, Brock's mouth was on him again, his tongue plunging deep into Joaquin's pussy. Joaquin's body arched off the bed, his back bowing as the pleasure washed over him in waves. Brock's mouth was insatiable, licking and sucking with a passion that left Joaquin gasping for air. He could feel Brock's tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of him with an intensity that was almost painful. The feeling of being so thoroughly consumed was overwhelming, and Joaquin's mind swam with sensation.

Brock's hands were everywhere, gripping Joaquin's thighs, his ass, his hips. They moved in tandem with his mouth, keeping him in place as Brock ravished him. Joaquin could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, his muscles tightening around Brock's tongue. He wanted to reach down, to touch himself, to add to the sensation, but the scarf around his wrists held him in place, leaving him utterly at Brock's mercy. It was a thrilling feeling, one that only heightened his arousal.

Brock's mouth was a maelstrom of sensation, his tongue flicking against Joaquin's clit with a precision that made him see stars. Joaquin's moans grew louder, his body moving in time with Brock's relentless rhythm. He could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke.

"Suck my clit please" Joaquin begged, his voice strained with need. Brock chuckled darkly before obliging, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking hard. Joaquin's body tightened, his bound wrists pulling against the scarf as the intensity grew.

Brock slid his fingers back inside Joaquin, pumping them in and out in a rhythm that matched his mouth. Joaquin's pussy was a slick, hot vice around his digits, and he could feel the tremors of his lover's approaching climax. He increased the speed, his thumb pressing firmly against Joaquin's G spot with every thrust.

Joaquin's body was a canvas of passion, his moans and gasps painting a picture of unbridled desire. His eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the feeling of Brock's mouth and hands, the way they worked together to drive him to the brink of madness. He was so close, so close to the release he craved, but he knew Brock wouldn't let him have it yet.

"Brock," Joaquin pleaded, his voice a desperate whine. "I need it. I need you."

Brock's only response was to suck harder, his fingers moving in a relentless rhythm inside Joaquin. Joaquin could feel the pressure building, the coil in his belly tightening with every passing second. The sound of his own desperation echoed in his ears, mingling with the wet noises of Brock's ministrations.

"Please," Joaquin gasped, his voice hoarse from the cries he hadn't been able to hold back. "I can't... I can't..."

Brock looked up, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He knew Joaquin was close, could feel the tremors of his body, the way his muscles tightened around his fingers. "You can," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You can take it. You can handle it."

With one final, hard suck on Joaquin's clit, Brock pulled away and lined his cock up with the slick, begging entrance. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving with need. "Please," he whispered, the word barely audible.

Brock's smile was all teeth as he pushed inside, his thick cock stretching Joaquin's pussy until he felt like he might split apart. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent shockwaves through his body. He bit his lip to hold back the scream that threatened to escape, his eyes never leaving Brock's as the other man began to fuck him in earnest.

Joaquin's hips rolled to meet every thrust, his body begging for more, even as he knew he couldn't handle much more. Brock's hands were everywhere, leaving bruising marks on his skin as he held him down, claimed him fully. The scarf around his wrists was tight, but not painfully so, and it only served to heighten the sense of vulnerability and excitement that washed over him.

Brock's rhythm was unyielding, his hips slamming into Joaquin with a force that was almost brutal in its beauty. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head as Brock hit that spot inside him that made him see stars. His orgasm was building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to drown him. "Brock," he moaned, his voice a desperate plea. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Brock leaned down, capturing Joaquin's mouth in a kiss that was as fierce as it was loving. "Come for me," he growled against his lover's swollen lips. "Let me feel you come apart around me."

The words were the final push Joaquin needed. With a keening cry, he shattered, his body writhing beneath Brock's. The orgasm ripped through him like a tempest, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. Brock's thrusts grew erratic as he felt Joaquin's muscles clamp down around him, and with a roar, he followed him over the edge, filling him with his release.

They remained connected for several moments, their bodies still, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of satisfaction and the lingering echoes of their shared passion.

Brock finally pulled out, his cock slick with their combined juices. He leaned over and untied the scarf from Joaquin's wrists, his movements gentle as he massaged the reddened skin. Joaquin's eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. Brock couldn't help but admire the way his lover's body had responded to him, the way he had taken everything he had given and begged for more.

With trembling hands, Joaquin reached up to touch Brock's face, his eyes finally opening to meet Brock's intense gaze. "That was... " He trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of the experience.

Brock chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound that made Joaquin's heart swell. "You're incredible," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from Joaquin's sweat-dampened forehead.

Joaquin managed a weak smile, his body still thrumming from the aftershocks of his climax. "You're not so bad yourself," he teased, his voice still shaky from the intensity of his release.

Brock leaned in and kissed him gently, his lips lingering on Joaquin's in a moment of tenderness that belied the raw passion of moments before. Joaquin's eyes fluttered shut, savoring the gentle touch after the storm of pleasure. When Brock pulled back, he opened his eyes to find his lover's gaze still on him, filled with a mix of affection and something darker, something that hinted at the depth of his hunger for more.

"I want more" Joaquin whispered, his voice a soft caress against Brock's chest, his nails lightly scratching the muscled expanse. Brock's grin was predatory as he leaned back in, capturing Joaquin's mouth in a kiss that was as demanding as it was passionate. He knew Joaquin could handle more, and he was eager to explore just how much.

The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths as they broke apart, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of need and desire.

"I'm going to break you baby bird" Brock murmured, the promise in his voice sending a thrill through Joaquin's body. He knew what that meant - more pleasure, more pain, more of Brock pushing him to his limits and beyond. And he craved it.

With surprising ease, Brock flipped Joaquin onto his hands and knees, the movement a silent declaration of intent. Joaquin's heart raced as he felt the shift in power dynamics, the thrill of submission sending a shiver down his spine. He knew what was coming, and yet the anticipation was unbearable.

"I'm going to fuck your cunt until you can't walk straight," Brock whispered, his voice a dark promise that sent shivers down Joaquin's spine. Joaquin's heart raced, the thrill of submission a heady drug that made him dizzy. He looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting Brock's intense gaze, and nodded his consent.

With a smirk that spoke of pure dominance, Brock grabbed Joaquin's hips and positioned himself at the entrance of his pussy. The head of his cock nudged against the sensitive flesh, the anticipation making Joaquin's muscles quiver. Without warning, Brock slammed into him, the force making Joaquin's eyes water.

"Oh fuck!" Joaquin's cry filled the room as Brock claimed him with a brutal force that left him breathless. The pain was sharp, but it melded into pleasure as Brock's thick cock filled him completely. He could feel every inch of Brock's length, the friction of their bodies setting his skin on fire.

Brock's grip on his hips was ironclad, his thrusts deep and punishing. Joaquin's eyes squeezed shut as he took the pounding, his body moving instinctively to meet each powerful stroke. The headboard knocked against the wall in time with their rhythm, the steady thump a testament to their passion.

"Daddy, let me rub my clit please" Joaquin begged, his voice a mix of pleasure and pain as Brock's cock continued to piston into him. Brock's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on Joaquin's hips as he considered the request. He knew Joaquin's body was sensitive, knew the power of his own touch. But this was a test, a dance of dominance and submission that they both reveled in.

"No, baby," Brock said, his voice a gruff denial. "You're going to take it like the good little slut you are." He reached around Joaquin's waist, his hand finding its way to Joaquin's clit, and began to rub it in tight, merciless circles. Joaquin's eyes shot open, his mouth forming a silent 'O' of surprise and pleasure.

The dual sensation of Brock's cock inside him and his skilled hand on his clit was almost too much to handle. Joaquin's body began to shake as he felt his orgasm building again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his belly. He moaned, the sound low and guttural.

"Please," he begged, his voice thick with need. "Please, let me come."

Brock's only response was a low chuckle, his hand on Joaquin's clit moving faster, the pressure increasing. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to come when I say you can."

Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the orgasm building, the pressure unbearable. His body was a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at any moment. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a rhythmic symphony of desire that seemed to crescendo with each passing second.

"Daddy, I can't hold it" Joaquin panted, his voice strained with desperation. "I'm going to come, please, I need it."

Brock leaned down, his breath hot against Joaquin's ear. "You're so greedy," he whispered, his hand relentless on Joaquin's clit. "If you come I'll slap your pussy until it's swollen and red." The words sent a shiver down Joaquin's spine, a delicious mix of fear and excitement that had him panting for more. He pushed back onto Brock's cock, his body begging for the release that was just out of reach.

"Fuck!" Joaquin's voice was a desperate cry as he felt the orgasm approaching like a runaway train. He didn't know if he could hold back much longer, but the thought of Brock slapping his pussy sent a thrill through him that was impossible to resist. The fear of the impending punishment only served to fuel his arousal.

"Joaquin" Brock's voice was a low, guttural command. "Look at me."

Joaquin's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with Brock's as he felt the final threads of his self-control begin to unravel. Brock's eyes were dark with lust, the muscles in his neck and arms standing out with the effort of his thrusts. Joaquin felt his orgasm build, the pressure in his pussy becoming unbearable.

With a scream that was half pleasure and half pain, Joaquin came, his body convulsing around Brock's cock. A torrent of liquid spurted from him, soaking the bed beneath and coating Brock's hand where it remained on his clit. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a release so intense that it bordered on the edge of agony.

Brock's eyes widened with shock and pleasure as he watched Joaquin's pussy spray, the sight of his lover losing control so utterly and completely sending him over the edge. He pumped into Joaquin with renewed vigor, his own climax approaching rapidly. The smell of sex and sweat filled the air, mingling with the musky scent of Joaquin's release.

Joaquin's body continued to tremble and convulse with the power of his orgasm, his pussy clenching around Brock's cock in erratic spasms. Brock's hand remained on Joaquin's clit, his thumb pressing down firmly as the other man rode out his climax, his hips jerking back and forth in a desperate search for more.

"I'm sorry Daddy, I couldn't hold it," Joaquin whimpered as his body continued to spasm, his pussy clenching around Brock's cock as he squirted across the bed.

"Don't worry," Brock grunted, his voice thick with his own need. "You're going to get what you deserve." He pulled out abruptly, leaving Joaquin's pussy gaping and exposed.

With a swift movement, Brock reached out and slapped Joaquin's face, the sound echoing in the room. The sting brought Joaquin back to the present, his eyes snapping open in shock and arousal. The pain was sharp, but it was the look in Brock's eyes that sent a shiver down his spine - a mix of dominance and love that made him crave more.

"Wake up, slut," Brock's voice was gruff, filled with the unmistakable command of a man who knew he was in control. The sting from the slap lingered on Joaquin's cheek, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that existed between them. He moaned, his body still reeling from the intense orgasm, his pussy still quivering around the emptiness where Brock's cock had been.

"Daddy," Joaquin gasped, his eyes watering from the slap. The pain was a stark reminder of their power dynamic, a thrill that made his cock throb with need. He knew what was coming next, the promise of more punishment and pleasure dancing in Brock's eyes.

Brock smirked, his hand moving to caress the cheek he had just slapped. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice a gentle praise that sent a warm glow through Joaquin's chest. "Now, let's see how well you can take your punishment. I'll slap your cunt until you're in tears"

Joaquin's eyes widened with a mix of fear and excitement as Brock's hand moved between his legs. The slap that followed was sharp and stinging, the sound echoing through the room. He cried out, his body jolting from the sudden pain. But as the sting faded, it was replaced by a warmth that spread through his core, making him arch back for more.

Brock didn't hold back, slapping Joaquin's pussy again and again, the sound of flesh on flesh punctuating their ragged breaths. Joaquin's body was a canvas of sensation, his mind a whirlwind of pleasure and pain as he struggled to process the intense assault. Each slap sent waves of pleasure through him, making his cock throb with need.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek as Brock's hand connected with his sensitive flesh, but the pain was intoxicating, melding with the lingering aftershocks of his orgasm. "Yes," Joaquin gasped, his voice shaky but determined. "More, Daddy."

Brock's hand fell in a steady rhythm, each slap a little harder than the last, each one making Joaquin's body jolt and shiver. The heat grew, a delicious burn that made him ache for release. He pushed back against Brock's hand, silently begging for more. The sound of his own slaps became a symphony, a rhythm that matched the thud of his heart.

And then, suddenly, the slapping stopped. Joaquin's body was left trembling, his pussy slick with need. He felt a gentle touch, and Brock's thumb brushed against his cheek, catching the tear that had slipped free. The tenderness was a stark contrast to the harshness of the moment before, and Joaquin's breath hitched in his throat.

Brock leaned in, his eyes searching Joaquin's. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than Joaquin had ever heard it.

"Yes," Joaquin whimpered, his eyes never leaving Brock's. "More," he begged, the need in his voice unmistakable. Brock's eyes darkened, his smile turning feral. He knew Joaquin could handle it, knew that this was what he truly wanted.

The slaps resumed, harder and faster, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain through Joaquin's body. His pussy was swollen and sensitive, the sting of each impact making him cry out in a mix of agony and ecstasy. The tears flowed freely now, mixing with the sweat on his face as he took the punishment that Brock doled out so masterfully.

"Good boy," Brock praised, his voice a gruff rumble that vibrated through Joaquin's body. "Take it, take it all." Joaquin nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he pushed back into each slap. The pain was exquisite, a testament to Brock's control and his own willingness to submit.

The room was a cocoon of sound and sensation, the slap of Brock's hand against Joaquin's flesh, the wetness of their combined pleasure, and the harshness of their breathing. Joaquin's body was alight, his pussy a beacon of need that seemed to pulse with every stroke of Brock's hand. He was lost in the moment, his mind a haze of desire and pain.

"You're so beautiful like this," Brock murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So wet, so eager for more." Joaquin could feel Brock's cock, still hard and demanding, pressing against his ass. He knew what was coming, the anticipation making him tremble with excitement.

The slaps grew harder, each one a brand against Joaquin's tender flesh. He could feel his orgasm building again, the pressure in his balls unbearable. "Please," he whimpered, his voice a desperate plea. "Please let me come."

Brock's response was a harsh laugh. "You'll come when I say you can," he said, his hand never faltering in its punishing rhythm. "You're going to scream my name when you do."

The slaps grew more intense, the pain melding with the pleasure until Joaquin could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. His body was a live wire, each slap sending sparks of sensation through him. He felt himself climbing higher and higher, the peak of his orgasm just out of reach.

"Please, Daddy," he gasped, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please, let me come."

Brock's eyes glinted with approval. "Good boy," he murmured. "You're so close. But not yet." He slapped Joaquin's pussy again, harder than before, and the sound of their skin colliding was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Slowly, as if savoring the moment, Brock slid two fingers into Joaquin's slick entrance. The feeling of being filled was overwhelming, and Joaquin's moan was one of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Brock's fingers moved with a deliberate, torturous pace, exploring the depths of Joaquin's pussy with the finesse of a maestro.

Joaquin's body tightened around the intrusion, his muscles clenching as Brock's digits stroked the inner walls. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate dance of pleasure and pain that had him hovering on the edge of oblivion.

Brock watched Joaquin's reactions with the intensity of a predator, his eyes never leaving his lover's face as he worked his fingers in and out. Each movement was calculated, each touch deliberate. He knew exactly how to make Joaquin squirm, how to make him beg. The sight of Joaquin's body, flushed and trembling, was almost too much for him to handle.

He felt the tension coil tighter and tighter within Joaquin, his pussy clenching around Brock's fingers. He knew Joaquin was close, so close that it was almost painful. But he didn't let up, didn't give him the relief he so desperately needed. He was in control, the master of Joaquin's pleasure, and he reveled in it.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Brock added a third finger, the stretch making Joaquin's eyes go wide with a mix of pain and pleasure. He watched as Joaquin's body responded to the intrusion, his hips bucking back to meet each thrust. "So tight," he murmured, his voice a low, dark whisper. "So fucking perfect."

Joaquin's moans grew louder, his body shuddering as Brock curled his fingers, pressing against his G-spot with an unerring precision. The pleasure was unbearable, each stroke sending waves of sensation through his body. "Daddy," he moaned, the word a plea on his lips. "Please, please let me come."

But Brock was merciless. He knew Joaquin could take more, knew the sweet agony of being so close and yet so far from the release he craved. He added a fourth finger, watching as Joaquin's pussy stretched to accommodate him, the muscles clenching around his hand. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "I'm going to jerk myself off and cum all over your whore face"

The words sent a bolt of lightning through Joaquin, the humiliation and desire mixing in a heady cocktail that had him panting for air. He could feel the head of Brock's cock against his cheek, the heat of it a stark contrast to the coolness of the air.

"Sit up slut" Brock's voice was a command that Joaquin couldn't ignore. He managed to push himself up onto his elbows, his body trembling with the effort. His pussy was still pulsing around Brock's fingers, desperate for the release that was being denied him.

Brock withdrew his hand, and Joaquin felt an emptiness that was almost painful. He watched as Brock wrapped his hand around his cock, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's face. "Look at me," he said, his voice a low growl. Joaquin obeyed, his gaze locked onto the sight of Brock's hand moving up and down his shaft.

The smell of sex was thick in the air, mingling with the faint scent of their sweat. He watched, his breathing ragged, as Brock stroked himself, the muscles in his forearm flexing with each movement. The anticipation was unbearable, his body a taut bowstring ready to snap.

"Tongue out baby" Brock's words were a command that Joaquin didn't dare ignore. He obeyed, sticking his tongue out, feeling the coolness of the air against his wet, swollen pussy. Brock's eyes were dark with lust as he watched Joaquin, his own hand moving faster on his cock.

The sight of Joaquin's pussy, red and swollen from the slaps and his own touch, was almost too much for Brock to handle. He stroked faster, his breath coming in ragged pants. "You want this cum, don't you?" he asked, his voice a harsh whisper. Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving Brock's.

With a roar of release, Brock came, his hot seed spurting across Joaquin's face. Joaquin's eyes closed reflexively as he felt the warmth of it hit him, a drop landing on his tongue. The taste was salty and faintly bitter, a taste he had come to crave. He moaned, his body jolting from the sudden release of his own pent-up desire.

Brock's hand continued to pump his cock, the last few drops painting Joaquin's cheeks and neck. He leaned in closer, watching the way Joaquin's body responded to the humiliation, the way his cock remained hard and needy despite the punishment he had just endured. The sight was intoxicating, a heady mix of power and desire that had Brock's chest tightening with his own climax.

Joaquin's eyes were squeezed shut, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. He could feel Brock's cum on his face, the sticky warmth a stark reminder of his submission. But the need inside him was a living, pulsing thing, demanding release. "Please," he whispered, the word slipping from his lips like a prayer. "Let me come."

Brock chuckled darkly, his hand still wrapped around his cock, now semi-soft from his recent orgasm. "What's the magic word?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of their power play.

"Please," Joaquin managed, his voice strained and desperate. "Please, Daddy, let me cum." His pussy was a wet mess, dripping onto the bed below him, his hips still rocking in a silent plea for release.

Brock's eyes searched Joaquin's, the hunger in them unmistakable. He knew Joaquin was on the brink, that it would take so little to send him spiraling over the edge. But the thrill of keeping him there, of watching him beg and ache, was too delicious to resist. He leaned in, his breath hot against Joaquin's ear. "Lay down"

Joaquin's body trembled with the effort of compliance, his limbs weak from the intense sensations that had washed over him. He collapsed onto the bed, his pussy still quivering from the abuse it had just endured. He looked up at Brock with a mix of desperation and longing, his eyes wide and pleading.

"Please, Daddy," he whimpered, his voice a soft, needy sound that seemed to echo through the room. "Please, I need to cum. I can't take it anymore." The words tumbled from his lips, a desperate mantra that seemed to hold all of his focus.

With a smirk that spoke of the power he held, Brock began to move his fingers faster, pushing Joaquin's body to its limits. The sound of their skin slapping together was a symphony of lust and submission, a rhythm that had Joaquin's toes curling and his hips jerking upward in a silent plea for more.

"Oh fuck!" Joaquin squealed as Brock's hand returned to his pussy with renewed ferocity, his fingers moving faster than he thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a maelstrom of pain and pleasure that sent his senses spiraling. Brock's hand was a blur, his knuckles slamming against Joaquin's ass with each punishing thrust. The sound was obscene, a wet smack that seemed to echo in his very soul.

Joaquin went cross eyed with pleasure as Brock's fingers dug deep into his pussy, moving at a pace that was almost inhuman. The harsh, unyielding rhythm sent shockwaves through his body, each thrust a declaration of ownership. His walls clamped down around the digits, trying to keep them in, to keep the feeling going forever. But Brock was relentless, pushing him closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

"Cum slut, cum or I'm going to keep this up until you pass out," Brock's voice was a snarl of need and dominance. Joaquin felt his eyes roll back in his head, the way Brock's fingers pounded into him, the sheer speed and force of it, was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was as if Brock's hand was a piston, driving him closer and closer to the edge of oblivion with every stroke.

The words barely registered in Joaquin's mind, his world narrowing down to the exquisite torment of Brock's hand and the pressure building in his pussy. His body was a taut bow, drawn to the breaking point, and then, with one final, brutal thrust, it snapped.

"FUCK!" Joaquin's scream echoed through the room as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, his body bucking and convulsing beneath Brock's touch. The sensation was like a white-hot wire being drawn through his core, setting every nerve ending alight. His pussy spasmed around Brock's fingers, the contractions so intense it was almost painful.

Brock watched, his own breaths heavy and ragged, as Joaquin's release took over. The sight of him, lost in pleasure, was more erotic than anything he had ever seen. The way Joaquin's body moved, the sounds he made, the sheer abandon in his eyes—it was intoxicating. He felt his own cock throb with renewed interest, but he resisted the urge to join in, instead focusing on wringing every last drop of pleasure from his lover.

As Joaquin's orgasm began to subside, his body went limp, his pussy still twitching around Brock's hand. The noises he made were guttural, almost animalistic, as he rode out the last waves of ecstasy. His eyes remained closed, his face a mask of pure, unfiltered lust.

Brock withdrew his hand slowly, watching as Joaquin's muscles quivered with the aftershocks. He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on Joaquin's forehead, a stark contrast to the harshness of their earlier play. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to Joaquin's frayed nerves.

Joaquin's breathing was still ragged, his body a limp mess on the bed. He felt as though every ounce of coherent thought had been wrung from him, leaving nothing but a puddle of sensation and need. He couldn't even find the words to respond to Brock's praise, his mind a whirlwind of pleasure and pain that had left him utterly overstimulated and fucked dumb.

But Brock wasn't done with him yet. With a wicked grin, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to Joaquin's pussy, his tongue sliding over the swollen flesh with a cruel gentleness that made Joaquin's eyes fly open. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips jerking upward. "No, Daddy, it's too much!"

Brock's tongue swirled around Joaquin's clit, the sensation making him squirm and squeal. His pussy was still pulsing from the orgasm, the nerves raw and oversensitive. Each touch was like a brand, sending sparks of pleasure through his body that he couldn't handle. "Stop, please, stop," he begged, his voice a desperate wail. "Daddy! Red! Red red red. Stop stop!"

Brock's head snapped up at the sound of the safeword, his eyes searching Joaquin's face for signs of distress. The sight of his lover's pained expression was like a dousing of cold water, bringing him back to reality with a jolt. He had pushed too far, forgotten the limits they had agreed upon. He felt a twinge of guilt, but also a thrill at the power he held. Carefully, he pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured into Joaquin's hair. "You okay?"

Joaquin nodded weakly, his breathing still erratic. The aftermath of his orgasm washed over him like a tsunami, leaving him trembling and overwhelmed. "I just... I can't," he managed to say, his voice shaking. "It's too much."

Brock's expression softened, the dominant facade slipping away to reveal the man beneath. He leaned back, his eyes searching Joaquin's for any signs of distress. "You're safe," he said, his voice gentle. "You're safe with me." He reached over to grab a nearby towel, using it to gently wipe the sweat and cum from Joaquin's face.

Joaquin's eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm okay." But the tremble in his words told a different story. The intensity of their play had left him vulnerable, exposed in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You're so wet, you're getting my thighs all sticky," Brock said with a chuckle, his voice a mix of affection and arousal. "Let's get you cleaned up." He carefully untied the ropes that had held Joaquin in place, his touch gentle as he helped his lover sit up.

Joaquin winced as the blood rushed back into his limbs, his skin sensitive from the ropes' embrace. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "I'm sorry I called red."

"Don't ever be sorry for that," Brock said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "We play by the rules we set, and your safety is always priority." He helped Joaquin to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. The room felt too bright, too cold, after the fiery intensity of their session.

They stumbled into the bathroom, the stark white tiles a stark contrast to the passion-filled mess they left behind. Under the cool spray of the shower, Brock's gentle touch washed away the remnants of their play, the water soothing the sting on Joaquin's skin. The tender care in Brock's eyes was almost too much to bear, making Joaquin's heart clench in his chest.

Brock took his time, his soapy hands gliding over Joaquin's body with a softness that seemed to erase the harshness of their earlier play. He kissed every bruise, his tongue tracing the path of his fingers as he whispered apologies and sweet nothings into Joaquin's ear. Joaquin leaned into the touch, his body still humming with the aftermath of pleasure.

"We'll need to work on your gag reflex baby" Brock said with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Joaquin couldn't help but laugh despite the ache between his legs, the water from the showerhead cascading over them both as they stood there, bodies entwined. The warmth of the water washed away the last remnants of their play, leaving them clean and pink from the heat.

They took their time, their kisses growing more tender as the minutes ticked by. Under the spray, the power dynamics of their earlier session faded away, replaced by a deep, almost primal need for comfort. Joaquin's hands roamed Brock's body, his touch tentative at first, as if afraid to break the fragile peace that had descended upon them.

"You're so good to me," Joaquin murmured against Brock's shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. Brock's arms tightened around him, holding him close. "I know," he said softly. "And you're good for me." It was a simple statement, but it held the weight of the world. In that moment, they were just two men, lost in the aftermath of something beautiful and raw.

As the water began to cool, Brock turned off the shower and guided Joaquin out of the bathroom. He wrapped him in a towel, taking care to dry him thoroughly. The gentle touch was soothing, a balm to Joaquin's soul after the storm of their encounter. They moved back to the bedroom, the warmth of the bed a welcome embrace.

Brock pulled Joaquin into his arms, his body a safe haven. Joaquin's cheek rested against Brock's chest, the steady thump of his heart a comforting beat in his ear. For a moment, they just lay there, their breathing syncing up, their hearts pounding in tandem. The silence was a balm, a gentle reprieve from the tumult of their earlier passions.

As the warmth of the shower faded, Joaquin felt his body begin to cool, the chill of the room a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered between his thighs. But he didn't want to let go of Brock, didn't want to leave the cocoon of warmth and safety that he had created. Brock seemed to sense his need, his arms tightening around him. "Shh," he murmured. "You're okay."

"Did I do good Daddy?" Joaquin's voice was small, his eyes searching Brock's for reassurance. The aftercare was just as important as the play itself, a gentle reminder that they were in this together.

"You did perfect," Brock replied, his voice thick with affection. "So fucking perfect." He pulled the blankets over them, tucking Joaquin closer against his chest. The warmth of their bodies melded together, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

Joaquin's eyes searched Brock's, looking for any hint of regret or disgust. But all he saw was hunger, a desire that had yet to be fully sated. He felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect of what was to come, his body already responding to the promise in Brock's gaze.

"Think about me shoving my fingers in your mouth and triggering your gag reflex, slowly training you to take my cock all the way down," Brock's voice was a low rumble, his eyes dark with desire. Joaquin whimpered, his pussy throbbing at the thought. The power dynamics of their relationship were complex, a tapestry of pain and pleasure that bound them closer with every encounter.

Chapter Text

"Daddy, I'm bored" Joaquin whined, flipping through the TV channels aimlessly. Brock looked up from his book, a sly smile playing across his lips. He knew just what to do to liven things up.

"Come here baby bird" Brock said, patting the couch cushion next to him. Joaquin pouted but complied, his curiosity piqued. Brock's eyes twinkled with mischief as he set his book aside. "You know what you need?" Joaquin looked at him expectantly. "You need to learn how to handle the whole of me," Brock said, his voice dropping an octave.

Joaquin felt his heart race as he gulped. He knew what Brock meant and he had to admit, it was something he'd been hoping to work on. The idea of Brock's thick cock sliding down his throat, filling him completely, had been a secret fantasy of his for a while. "I want to," Joaquin said, his voice small.

Brock leaned in close, his breath warm against Joaquin's ear. "Good boy," he murmured, his hand reaching down to stroke Joaquin's cheek. "We're going to start slow, okay?"

Joaquin nodded eagerly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could feel the heat emanating from Brock's body, and it sent shivers down his spine. Brock stood up, his own clothes discarded on the floor in a hurry, his cock already standing at attention. Joaquin's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight, his mouth watering in anticipation.

"Now, be a good boy and do as I say," Brock instructed, his voice firm yet gentle. He guided Joaquin to the bedroom, their steps echoing through the quiet apartment. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to create a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Joaquin felt his cheeks flush as Brock helped him onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

"Strip for me, baby," Brock said, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's. With trembling hands, Joaquin obeyed, peeling off his shirt and shorts, revealing his smooth, hairless skin. Brock's gaze roamed over Joaquin's body, lingering on the spot between his legs where his cock and balls should have been, but instead, there was a pussy, already wet with anticipation.

Joaquin lay on his back, positioning himself at the edge of the bed as instructed. He felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as Brock's strong hands gently pushed his head back, his neck muscles stretching with the new angle. "Just keep moving your head up every now and then," Brock reminded him, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want you to pass out on me. Also you're going to drool a lot so be mindful of that baby"

With a nod, Joaquin parted his lips, and Brock took his thumb, pressing it firmly against the back of his tongue. The gag reflex was instant and overwhelming, causing Joaquin's body to convulse and his eyes to water as he coughed around the intrusion. Brock chuckled softly, stroking his hair. "It's okay, we've got time."

He pulled his thumb out and offered Joaquin a sip of water, watching as the younger man took deep, shuddering breaths. "Let's try again, but slower this time." He waited until Joaquin had nodded before pressing his thumb back into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Joaquin focused on the sensation, his eyes watering as he tried to relax his throat.

Brock's thumb moved in gentle circles, pressing a little further each time. Joaquin felt his gag reflex begin to ease, the muscles in his throat loosening just a bit. The salty taste of his own precum mingled with the metallic tang of his mouth, and he swallowed hard around the thumb. Brock's eyes narrowed in concentration, studying Joaquin's every reaction.

Joaquin gagged and choked around Brock's thumb, his eyes tearing up as he struggled to breathe through his nose. Brock's thumb was thick and rough, the blunt pressure against the back of his tongue overwhelming. Despite the initial shock, Joaquin felt a thrill of excitement at the challenge. He was eager to please Brock, to take him deep into his throat like a good boy.

"I'm going to stick two fingers in your mouth baby," Brock said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Joaquin's spine. The anticipation was almost unbearable. Joaquin took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and fear.

Brock slid his thumb out, replacing it with two thick fingers. Joaquin felt them press against his tongue, and he had to fight the urge to gag as they pushed past the barricade of his teeth. Brock's eyes bore into his, filled with a gentle patience that helped calm him. "Good boy," Brock murmured, his voice soothing despite the intensity of the situation.

"Breathe in and out baby, that's it," Brock encouraged, his other hand cradling Joaquin's head, supporting him as his fingers began to probe deeper. Joaquin's eyes watered and his nose started to run, but he focused on Brock's calming voice, the sound of his own breathing, and the feeling of Brock's fingers stretching him open.

Slowly, Brock began to move his fingers in a come-hither motion, scraping against the sensitive spot at the back of Joaquin's throat. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a muffled choke around the intrusion, his body responding despite the uncomfortable sensation. Brock's fingers were rough, calloused from years of work, but they moved with a surprising gentleness that had Joaquin's pussy clenching with need.

Joaquin gasped for air as Brock's fingers withdrew, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his body from expelling the unwelcome invaders. He blinked back tears, his throat sore.

"Sorry Daddy" Joaquin rasped out, his voice hoarse from the effort. Brock leaned down and kissed him, his thumb wiping away the saliva that trickled from the corner of Joaquin's mouth. "No, you're doing so well," he assured him, his voice a gentle rumble of approval. "Raise your head up a bit baby"

Brock moved Joaquin's hand to his muscular thighs, his skin hot and firm under the younger man's trembling fingers. "Whenever you feel like you're going to gag, squeeze my thighs, okay?" Joaquin nodded, his eyes searching Brock's for reassurance.

Brock took his time, inserting his fingers again, one at a time, until Joaquin could handle three of them easily. Joaquin's hand tightened around Brock's thigh each time he felt the urge to gag, the pressure a silent communication between them that Brock understood perfectly. He continued to move his fingers in and out, stretching Joaquin's throat, watching the way his eyes watered and his cheeks hollowed with the effort.

"Good, good boy," Brock praised, his own breathing becoming more ragged. The sight of Joaquin's determination, his willingness to take Brock's fingers deep, was incredibly arousing. He knew the day would come when Joaquin could take his cock just as eagerly, and the thought made him even harder.

With a final gentle thrust of his fingers, Brock withdrew them, giving Joaquin a moment to catch his breath. He could see the younger man's pussy, glistening with arousal, begging for attention. "You're doing so good," Brock said, his voice a warm caress.

Brock leaned down and kissed Joaquin tenderly, their tongues dancing together briefly before he broke away. His hand drifted down, his thumb brushing against Joaquin's swollen clit. Joaquin's body jolted with pleasure, a soft moan escaping his throat. Brock smirked, enjoying the way Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head. He began to rub Joaquin's pussy in slow, teasing circles, feeling the wetness coat his thumb.

Joaquin's hips bucked, trying to press closer to Brock's hand. Brock's touch was firm but gentle, his calloused thumb providing just the right amount of friction. Joaquin's pussy was already so slick with anticipation that Brock could feel the wetness on his palm. His other hand stroked Joaquin's cheek, wiping away the tears that had formed during the intense throat training. "You're so responsive," Brock murmured, his voice filled with admiration

"I'm going to put three fingers in your mouth and we'll test how far you can take it," Brock said, his voice a gentle command that made Joaquin's stomach flip. He nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving Brock's. The older man leaned in and inserted his thumb and forefinger, the pressure immediately triggering Joaquin's gag reflex.

But this time, Joaquin was ready. He focused on his breathing, letting his throat muscles relax as Brock's digits slid deeper. The sensation of his fingers pressing against the back of Joaquin's throat was intense, but the pain was muted by the excitement coursing through his body. He felt a strange sense of accomplishment, his mind overruling his instincts to push the intrusion away.

"Breathe through your nose" Brock reminded him, his voice low and steady. Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving Brock's as he focused on his breathing. He felt the tip of Brock's thumb touch his uvula, the sensitive spot at the back of his throat, and braced himself for the inevitable gag. But it didn't come as strongly as before.

Brock pushed his fingers in deeper, his thumb pressing against the back of Joaquin's tongue, and Joaquin's eyes watered as he tried to swallow around the thickness. His throat muscles spasmed, but he managed to keep his airway open, his breath hitching in his chest. The gag was there, but it was less intense, more manageable.

"That's it," Brock encouraged, his voice gruff with arousal. "You're taking it so well." Joaquin felt a warmth spread through his body, a strange mix of pride and pleasure at Brock's words. He didn't want to disappoint the man he loved so much, and the fact that he was making progress only made him more determined.

"Good boy"

Brock's praise was music to Joaquin's ears, spurring him on to try harder. He felt his throat expand around Brock's thick digits, the muscles stretching and protesting, but he didn't pull away. The sensation was overwhelming, his eyes watering and his nose running as he fought to keep breathing.

But the reward was worth it. With every gasp for air, Brock's eyes darkened with lust, his own arousal clear from the bulging cock that bobbed in front of Joaquin's face. Joaquin could feel his own pussy clenching, desperate for Brock's touch. The intimate dance between pain and pleasure was intoxicating, a heady mix that made him dizzy with want.

"I know you want my cock baby," Brock said, his voice a seductive whisper. "But we have to work up to it." He gently removed his fingers from Joaquin's mouth, and the younger man let out a whimper of protest, his throat feeling empty without the intrusion. Brock chuckled and kissed him again, the taste of Joaquin's saliva mingling with their kiss.

Joaquin nodded, his eyes glazed with desire. He could feel Brock's cock, thick and heavy, resting against his cheek. "Open your mouth," Brock ordered, and Joaquin obeyed without hesitation. Brock's cock nudged against Joaquin's lips, and he parted them eagerly, his tongue darting out to taste the salty precum that beaded at the tip.

Brock groaned, his hand tangling in Joaquin's hair as he guided the younger man's head down. Joaquin took a deep breath and let Brock's cock slip into his mouth, his tongue caressing the shaft as it slid over his teeth. He gagged, but only a little, and Brock praised him for his progress. "That's it, baby," he said, his voice thick with lust.

Joaquin felt the pressure build again as Brock's cock hit the back of his throat, but he managed to keep his throat relaxed, taking it deeper. His eyes watered and his nose ran, but he didn't care. All he could focus on was pleasing Brock, making him feel as good as he felt when Brock's fingers were inside him.

"Good boy," Brock murmured, his grip on Joaquin's hair tightening slightly. "Take it all for Daddy." Joaquin nodded, his throat working around the thick cock. He could feel Brock's thighs tense under his hands, the muscles jumping as he held back his orgasm.

Joaquin's eyes watered and his nose was a mess, but he was determined to do this. He took another deep breath through his nose and pushed his head down further, the tip of Brock's cock brushing the back of his throat. He gagged, his body's natural defense against the intrusion, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he took the gag as a challenge, his eyes watering even more as he forced his throat to relax.

Brock's cock slid deeper into Joaquin's mouth, the head of it nudging his throat. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open wide, his throat working around the thickness. He could feel Brock's hand tighten in his hair, guiding him, urging him to take more. The older man's breathing grew harsher, his hips jerking slightly as he held back his climax.

"Hold it for five seconds baby," Brock groaned, his voice strained. Joaquin's eyes watered profusely, but he nodded, his nose running uncontrollably. He focused on his breathing, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt Brock's cock pulse in his throat. The pressure was immense, his throat muscles spasming around the intrusion, but he held on, his entire being centered on pleasing his Daddy.

The seconds ticked by, feeling like an eternity to Joaquin. His throat burned and his jaw ached, but the thought of Brock's satisfaction was all that mattered. Finally, Brock let out a ragged sigh and pulled back, his cock sliding out of Joaquin's mouth with a wet pop. Joaquin coughed, taking deep, ragged breaths as Brock stroked his hair, praising him.

"So good," Brock murmured, his voice tight with restrained desire. "Your pussy is begging for it now, isn't it?" Joaquin nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut as he tried to catch his breath.

Brock reached into the bedside drawer, his hand emerging with a sleek, black vibrator. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, watching as Brock flicked it on, the humming noise filling the air. "This will help you relax," Brock said, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

He coated the toy in lube, the cool liquid feeling like a stark contrast against Joaquin's fevered skin. With gentle precision, Brock pressed the tip of the vibrator against Joaquin's swollen pussy, making him jump. Joaquin's breath hitched as he felt the vibrations pulse against his clit, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

"Breathe, baby," Brock soothed, his own arousal clear in his voice. He slid the toy along Joaquin's slit, teasing his opening before pushing it in, inch by inch. Joaquin's eyes widened and he let out a soft moan, his body arching off the bed. The vibrator was thick, stretching him more than he was used to, but the feeling was incredible.

The buzzing filled the room, the sound of it mingling with Joaquin's whimpers and Brock's labored breathing. Brock began to move the toy in slow, deliberate strokes, watching as Joaquin's body responded to the new sensation. Joaquin's pussy clenched around the vibrator, trying to hold onto the delicious feeling as Brock pushed it deeper. The vibrations reverberated through him, making his toes curl and his stomach tighten with need.

"You can cum as many times as you want baby boy," Brock murmured, watching as Joaquin's body tensed around the vibrator. "But remember, I'm going to fuck your mouth again soon, so don't get too sensitive." Joaquin nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. The vibrations grew stronger, and he could feel his orgasm building, his body tightening with each pulse.

"Cum for Daddy," Brock whispered, his thumb circling Joaquin's clit. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, his mouth forming a silent "Oh" as he came, his pussy spasming around the toy. His body convulsed, his hips jerking upwards, and Brock had to hold the vibrator in place to keep it from slipping out. The feeling was intense, overwhelming, and Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.

"That's staying in your pretty little cunt until you can take my whole cock without gagging," Brock said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and determination. Joaquin nodded, his cheeks flushed from his recent climax.

Brock leaned back, watching the younger man's panting form with a predatory gaze. He could see the desire in Joaquin's eyes, the need for more, and it only made his own need grow. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before leaning in again. "Ready for round two?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within Joaquin's very soul.

Joaquin nodded, his eyes shining with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Brock's hand slid behind his head again, his fingers coated in the slickness of Joaquin's spit and precum. He inserted them into Joaquin's mouth, and this time, Joaquin was ready. He took them deeper, his throat muscles working to accommodate the thickness. Brock's eyes narrowed in concentration as he felt the tightness around his fingers, pushing them in and out with a slow, steady rhythm.

Joaquin's eyes watered, his nose running, as he focused on his breathing and the feeling of Brock's fingers sliding along his throat. The gag reflex was still present, but it was weaker than before, a testament to his progress. Brock's praise was like a drug, spurring him on to take more, push further. He felt a strange sense of pride in his ability to handle the discomfort, the way his body was adapting to please the man he adored.

With each push of Brock's fingers, Joaquin's pussy clenched around the vibrator, the pleasure heightening his arousal. He could feel his throat muscles stretching, the burn of the effort a stark contrast to the coolness of the metal digits. Each time the urge to pull back came, he squeezed Brock's thigh instead, a silent signal that he was okay, that he could take more. And each time, Brock would give him more, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's.

The air was thick with the scent of arousal, the room a symphony of wet sounds and stifled moans. Joaquin felt his body respond to the training, his pussy growing wetter and his clit more sensitive with every gag. It was a delicate balance between the pain and pleasure, and Joaquin was eager to master it.

Brock's eyes never left Joaquin's, reading the unspoken cues as he slid his fingers in and out of the younger man's mouth. "Good, keep going," he murmured, the gentle stroking of Joaquin's hair a silent promise of reward for his obedience. Joaquin's eyes watered, but he didn't pull away, his throat stretching around the thick digits. The taste of his own spit mingled with Brock's scent, a heady combination that had him light-headed with desire.

The vibrator inside him buzzed away, the constant pressure on his clit making it difficult to focus on anything but the pleasure. Each time Brock's fingers pushed deeper, Joaquin felt the muscles in his throat spasm, his body's instinct to reject the intrusion warring with his desperate need to please. But with each gag, he pushed through, his determination only growing stronger.

Brock watched Joaquin's face, the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes watered with each thrust of his hand. The sight was intoxicating, his own cock aching with need. He could feel the tension in the younger man's throat, the way he fought to keep from gagging, and it only made him more eager to push him further. "That's it," Brock coaxed, his voice a gentle rumble. "Take it all."

Joaquin's breath hitched as Brock's knuckles brushed the back of his throat, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. He focused on the feeling of Brock's thumb stroking the roof of his mouth, the way it distracted from the pressure building in his throat. Each time Brock's hand retreated, he could feel his own muscles clenching around the absence, desperately wanting more.

Brock's eyes never left Joaquin's, his gaze intense and full of lust. He added a fourth finger, pushing past the resistance with a firmness that sent a shiver down Joaquin's spine. The gag reflex was stronger now, his throat muscles protesting, but Joaquin was determined to take it all. He could feel his eyes watering and his nose running, but he didn't dare pull away. Instead, he squeezed Brock's thigh in silent communication, asking for more.

Brock's hand was a steady, unyielding force, his fingers stretching Joaquin's throat to its limits. Joaquin's breaths grew more ragged, his chest heaving as he tried to accommodate the thickness. He could feel the vibrator still buzzing away inside him, the sensation growing more intense with each passing second. The pain was a thrilling challenge, one that he was eager to conquer.

The pressure built, Joaquin's throat muscles spasming around Brock's fingers. He could feel the urge to gag growing stronger, but he held it back, his eyes locked on Brock's. "Almost there," Brock murmured, his own breaths coming in short bursts as he watched the struggle on Joaquin's face. The vibrator inside him grew more intense, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

"Daddy" Joaquin choked out around Brock's thick fingers, his voice muffled and needy. Brock's eyes darkened with lust at the sound, his own breaths coming in heavy pants. He knew Joaquin was close, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his gag reflex.

"Take it all, baby," Brock growled, pushing his thumb past the knuckle. Joaquin's eyes squeezed shut as he took the final intrusion, his throat tightening around the digit. He could feel Brock's hand flexing inside his mouth, the pressure unbearable, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced his throat to relax, swallowing around the thumb.

The sensation was overwhelming, his body fighting the natural urge to expel the foreign object. But the praise in Brock's voice and the heat of his gaze was all the motivation Joaquin needed. He felt the head of the vibrator rub against his g-spot, and the combination of the two was almost too much. "Good boy," Brock whispered, his thumb retreating slightly before pushing back in.

The gag reflex subsided, and Joaquin felt a victory swell within him. He swallowed around Brock's thumb, the saliva in his mouth mixing with the sweat on his face. "Do it again," he managed to say, his voice a hoarse rasp.

Brock's smile grew wolfish. "Already eager, are we?" He leaned in, his cock pressing against Joaquin's cheek. "But we're not done yet, baby. I want to see how much you can take." He pushed his fingers back in, this time deeper, the sound of Joaquin's muffled whimpers spiking his own arousal. Joaquin's eyes watered profusely, and a tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn't flinch, his determination unshaken.

The vibrator inside Joaquin's pussy hit that perfect spot again, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He gagged around Brock's thumb, his eyes watering as the sensations grew more intense. The feeling of being so full, of being stretched to his limits, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had his toes curling and his body writhing.

"Fuck my mouth Daddy please," Joaquin begged, his voice barely audible around the gag of Brock's thumb. The words were a plea, a silent declaration of his readiness to move past the training and onto the main event. Brock's eyes lit up with excitement, and with a final, gentle push of his thumb, he pulled it out.

Joaquin's mouth was open, panting and wet, ready to take Brock's cock. The vibrator inside him was turned off, but the feeling of fullness remained, his pussy quivering with anticipation. Brock leaned back, his hand releasing Joaquin's head, giving him a moment to breathe.

"Up you go," Brock said, gently guiding Joaquin into a sitting position. The sudden movement made Joaquin's head spin, and he had to lean back against the pillows to keep from falling over. The room felt like it was tilting, his body still reeling from the intense sensations of the training.

"Breathe," Brock instructed, his hand resting firmly on Joaquin's chest to steady him. Joaquin nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he took deep, calming breaths. The vibrator was removed with a wet pop, leaving his pussy feeling empty and needy.

As the world stopped spinning and his breathing evened out, Brock helped him sit up, his arms wrapping around Joaquin to support him. The sudden shift in position had Joaquin's head swimming, and he leaned heavily against Brock's broad chest, his cheek pressing into the firm muscles.

"Open up," Brock said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down Joaquin's spine. He obeyed, his jaw still sore from the intense training. Brock's hand was in front of his face, and Joaquin felt something cold and hard being pushed against his open mouth. He realized it was a dildo gag, the kind they'd talked about but never used before. The anticipation made his heart race, his pussy clenching with excitement.

The gag was inserted, the rubbery material filling his mouth, the taste faintly metallic. It was wider than Brock's thumb and longer, with two small bumps on the outside to press against his cheeks. Brock fastened the buckle at the back of his head, securing it in place. Joaquin could feel the leather straps against his skin, a stark reminder of his submission to the man he adored.

"Is it triggering your gag reflex at all?" Brock asked, his eyes searching Joaquin's face for any sign of distress. Joaquin took a moment to adjust, the gag pressing against his throat in a way that was both uncomfortable and thrilling. He gave a small shake of his head, indicating that it was okay. The gag was a new sensation, a reminder of the boundaries they were pushing, but it didn't elicit the same overwhelming urge to pull away that Brock's thumb had earlier.

"I'm going to eat out your little pussy while you suck on that gag sweetheart" Brock murmured in Joaquin's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Joaquin could only nod in response, the gag making any coherent noise impossible. He felt Brock's hands on his hips, gently pushing him down onto the bed, his legs spread wide. The leather straps of the gag dug into the sides of his cheeks as he settled into the position, his body trembling with anticipation.

The older man's tongue traced the edges of Joaquin's pussy, teasing him before delving into his wetness. Joaquin moaned around the gag, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of pleasure through him. He could feel Brock's breath against his skin, hot and ragged, as he licked and sucked with an enthusiasm that left Joaquin's toes curling. The gag in his mouth muffled his sounds, but the vibrations of his moans seemed to echo through his body.

Brock's tongue was relentless, probing and flicking against Joaquin's sensitive clit. Joaquin's hips bucked against the mouth that worshipped him, desperate for more. He felt Brock's hands grip his thighs, holding him in place as the pleasure grew more intense. His body was a taut wire, ready to snap with the next touch. The vibrations of his own voice, trapped in his throat, only heightened the sensations, making each stroke of Brock's tongue feel like electricity.

With a final, lingering lick, Brock sat back, his face glistening with Joaquin's arousal. He looked up at the younger man, his eyes hooded with desire. "Ready to try for my cock, baby?" he asked, his voice a low growl. Joaquin nodded frantically, the gag in his mouth preventing any words.

Brock reached up and unbuckled the gag, sliding it out of Joaquin's mouth with a gentle touch. Joaquin gulped in air, his throat sore but his need undiminished. He nodded again, his eyes shining with eagerness. "Good boy," Brock murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

The older man leaned back, stroking his cock as Joaquin watched, his eyes following the movement hungrily. It was thick and hard, the head flushed a dark red with desire. Brock leaned forward, placing the tip at Joaquin's lips, a silent question. Joaquin parted his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the precum from the slit. The taste was salty and musky, a flavor that made him ache for more.

"Do you think you can take all of me, baby?" Brock's voice was a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down Joaquin's spine. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the cock in front of him. Brock's thumb traced his lower lip, the pad of it pressing gently against his teeth. "Remember, you need to breathe through your nose," he reminded him, his voice firm but gentle.

Joaquin took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes never leaving Brock's. He knew this was the moment he had been preparing for, the culmination of their training. He leaned forward, his mouth open, and took the head of Brock's cock into his mouth. The taste was familiar now, the scent of his lover's arousal a heady perfume that made his own cock throb in response.

Brock's hand guided him, his grip firm but gentle as Joaquin began to bob his head, taking more of the length with each pass. The gag had made him feel so full, but the anticipation of having the real thing was intoxicating. He focused on his breathing, feeling the air move through his nose as he worked his mouth around the thick shaft.

The head of Brock's cock hit the back of his throat, and Joaquin had to fight the instinct to pull away. He swallowed, the muscles in his throat relaxing slightly. The sound of Brock's groan spurred him on, the vibration of the sound resonating in his mouth. Joaquin's eyes watered, his throat tightening around the cock that filled him so completely.

"Look at me," Brock instructed, his voice thick with need. Joaquin's gaze snapped up to meet his, the intensity in Brock's eyes almost too much to handle. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to focus on the pleasure rather than the discomfort. The gag had prepared him for this, had stretched his throat to the point where the pressure was almost welcome.

Tears welled in Joaquin's eyes as he took more of Brock's cock, his throat muscles straining. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he pushed down, his throat stretching and accommodating the intrusion. He could feel the veins pulsing under his tongue, the heat of Brock's desire, and it was all he needed to keep going. His eyes remained locked with Brock's, the trust and submission in them unmistakable.

"Breathe through your nose, baby," Brock murmured, his voice a low rumble of approval. Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving Brock's as he took another deep, shaky breath through his nose. The cock in his mouth grew thicker, the pressure building in his throat. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he took another inch, his nose brushing against the older man's trimmed pubic hair.

Brock's eyes widened, his grip on Joaquin's hair tightening slightly as he felt the younger man's throat muscles constrict around his shaft. "That's it," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're doing so good." Joaquin felt the praise wash over him, the warmth of it seeping into his bones. He was doing it. He was taking all of Brock, just like he'd dreamed of.

With each movement, Joaquin's throat muscles grew more accustomed to the thickness, the pain giving way to a thrilling sense of fullness. The salty taste of Brock's precum coated his tongue, making him want more, need more. He swallowed again, taking another inch, feeling the head of Brock's cock nudge against the entrance to his stomach.

Brock's eyes never left Joaquin's, watching the emotions play out on his face. "Good boy," he praised, his voice strained with his own desire. "Keep going." Joaquin did, his throat stretching around the shaft, his eyes watering uncontrollably. But the pain was worth it, the way Brock's eyes lit up with each inch he took.

The sound of Brock's harsh breaths filled the room, the tension in his body palpable. Joaquin felt a twinge of fear mixed with excitement, knowing that he was pushing Brock closer to the edge. He could feel the cock in his mouth swell even more, the veins standing out with each pulse of blood. It was a powerful feeling, knowing that he had this much control over the man he loved.

"Just a little bit more baby," Brock grunted, his hips beginning to thrust gently, pushing his cock deeper into Joaquin's willing mouth. Joaquin nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on his task. He could feel the head of Brock's cock nudging against the back of his throat, the pressure intense and almost unbearable. But the desire to make Brock cum was stronger than his discomfort.

With one final push, Brock's cock slid into Joaquin's throat, his balls pressing against his chin. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, his nostrils flaring as he fought the urge to gag. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he swallowed, the muscles in his throat working to keep the thick intrusion in place. Brock's eyes rolled back in his head, his hand tightening in Joaquin's hair.

"Fuck," Brock breathed, the sound a mix of awe and pleasure. "You're incredible." Joaquin felt a surge of pride, his eyes watering around Brock's cock. He knew he was pleasing him, knew that he was giving Brock what he wanted. And that was all that mattered.

The older man's hips began to move, a slow, steady rhythm that had Joaquin's throat working around his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being so completely filled sending shockwaves through his body. He could feel his own pussy clenching with each thrust, his need for release growing more urgent with every passing second.

But as the pleasure built, Joaquin's gag reflex reared its head again, his throat convulsing around Brock's cock. He gagged, his eyes watering even more, the pressure in his throat almost unbearable. Brock's hand tightened in his hair, his movements halting for a moment as he watched Joaquin struggle.

With a soft curse, Brock pulled his cock out, the sudden absence making Joaquin's throat spasm. He coughed, his eyes wide with fear that he had failed. But Brock's expression was one of concern, not disappointment. "It's okay, baby," he soothed, wiping the tears from Joaquin's cheeks. "You're doing amazing."

Leaning in, Brock pressed his lips to Joaquin's, his tongue delving into the younger man's mouth to claim and comfort him. The taste of their combined pleasure mingled with the faint metallic tang of Joaquin's saliva, creating a heady mix that made Brock's cock throb even more. Joaquin moaned into the kiss, his hands reaching up to cling to Brock's shoulders, desperation and need in his grasp.

"You're a good boy Joaquin" Brock whispered, his voice thick with desire. He kissed Joaquin's forehead, his eyes filled with warmth and pride.

Chapter Text

Brock Rumlow stepped into the quiet apartment, dropping his luggage with a thud. "I'm home," he called out, expecting to be greeted by the usual sounds of Joaquin Torres' laughter or the aroma of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Instead, the air had a tension he couldn't quite place. He tossed his keys on the counter and walked down the hallway, the silence a stark contrast to the bustling streets he had just left behind.

As he reached the bedroom door, a muffled whine pierced the air, followed by a faint buzz. His curiosity piqued, he pushed the door open, revealing a sight that sent a bolt of excitement straight to his groin. Joaquin was laid out on the bed, hogtied with ropes that bit into his skin. An anal hook was lodged deep within his ass, stretching him open and keeping him utterly immobile. A vibrator hummed against his clit, sending tremors through his body. The blindfold over his eyes and gag in his mouth spoke of his submission, a silent plea for Brock's dominance.

A note in Joaquin's handwriting lay on the bedside table, fluttering slightly from the vibrations of the toy. Brock picked it up, his eyes scanning the words with a smirk. "Welcome home, Daddy," it read. "I've been a bad boy and need to be taught a lesson. I'm all yours to do with as you please." His cock swelled at the thought, the anticipation of what was to come making his heart race. He set the note down, taking in the sight of Joaquin's bound form, the sweat glistening on his skin, the way his chest heaved with every labored breath around the gag.

"Let me guess, Jack helped?" Brock said with a chuckle, his voice deep and warm as he stepped closer to the bed. Joaquin nodded frantically, his eyes rolling back with pleasure as the vibrator continued its relentless assault. Brock reached down to remove the gag, revealing a mouth that was swollen and desperate for his touch. "You know, you could have just asked me to tie you up," he said, stroking Joaquin's cheek with a gentle touch that belied the desire coiling in his stomach.

With a smirk, Brock picked up the remote to the vibrator and turned it off, watching as Joaquin's body relaxed slightly before his eyes snapped open in protest. "But where's the fun in that?" Joaquin panted out, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. Brock couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the sight of his lover, so eager and willing to submit to his every whim. He leaned down to kiss Joaquin, his mouth claiming the smaller man's with a fierce passion that had been building during his trip.

Joaquin's breath hitched as Brock's hand found its way to the base of the anal hook, twisting it gently. He moaned into the kiss, his body responding instantly to the increased pressure. Brock could feel the tremors running through Joaquin's body, his cock growing harder with each whimper. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he murmured against Joaquin's lips, his voice thick with desire. Joaquin nodded, his eyes shining with need.

Brock stepped back, taking in Joaquin's form. The ropes that bound him were tight but not uncomfortable, the knots expertly tied. He knew Jack had a taste for this kind of play, but he had never expected his friend to get this involved in their relationship. He'd have to thank him later, after he'd given Joaquin the punishment he craved.

With a flick of his wrist, Brock removed the blindfold, revealing Joaquin's wide, anticipatory eyes. They searched Brock's face for a sign of what was to come, a silent question that Brock was more than happy to answer. "I'm going to fuck you now," he said simply, his voice low and commanding. Joaquin's pupils dilated, his breathing growing ragged as he nodded eagerly. Brock stroked Joaquin's hair, feeling the soft strands slide through his fingers. He was always so beautiful when he was like this, so open and vulnerable.

"Open your present first Daddy" Joaquin wiggled in his restraints, the anal hook still lodged firmly in place, a testament to his endurance. "Oh? You're the present my little slut?" Brock teased.

"Duh" Joaquin said, rolling his eyes playfully. "Jack helped me set this all up for you. You're gonna love it, I promise." Brock chuckled, his heart swelling with affection for the cleverness of his submissive.

He began to untangle the ropes with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's. The tension in the room grew as the bonds loosened and fell away, revealing the deep red marks they had left on his skin. Joaquin's chest rose and fell rapidly as he waited for the next part of his surprise. The anal hook was the last to be removed, and Brock couldn't help but admire the way Joaquin's pussy clenched around the base before releasing it with a wet pop.

Once Joaquin was free, Brock didn't waste any time. He stripped off his clothes, revealing his hard cock that was already leaking precum at the thought of claiming his lover. Joaquin's eyes widened at the sight, his body reacting instinctively. "Stay here Daddy" Joaquin whispered, his voice thick with need. "Let me get the surprise ready."

Brock nodded, his curiosity piqued as Joaquin slid off the bed and padded over to the dresser. He watched Joaquin's perfect ass sway as he bent over, his pussy still glistening from the earlier play. He felt his cock throb in anticipation. What could Joaquin have planned that required this level of setup?

Joaquin rummaged through the dresser, finally pulling out a small, velvet-covered box. He turned around, presenting it to Brock with a flourish. "Your turn," he said, his voice filled with excitement. Brock took the box, his heart racing. He had no idea what was inside, but knowing Joaquin, it would be something special.

With trembling hands, Brock opened the box to reveal a sleek, black leather collar with "Property of Brock Rumlow" embossed in silver lettering. His breath caught in his throat as he realized the significance of this gesture. Joaquin was offering him complete ownership, a symbol of their deep, unshakeable bond.

"Put it on me," Joaquin murmured, his voice a soft purr that sent a shiver down Brock's spine. "Make me yours."

Brock took the collar from the box, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's. He stepped closer, the leather cool against his palm. He could see the desire in Joaquin's eyes, the need to submit fully. Carefully, he fastened the collar around Joaquin's neck, the metal clasp clicking into place with a sound that seemed to echo through the room. Joaquin's eyes closed as if in relief, a contented sigh escaping his lips. The collar looked perfect on him, a stark contrast to his flushed skin and the red marks from the ropes.

The sight of Joaquin wearing his collar sent a surge of power through Brock. He was now marked, claimed, and there was nothing more erotic to him than seeing his name etched in silver against that soft, vulnerable throat. "You're mine," Brock whispered, his voice hoarse with need. Joaquin nodded, his eyes shining with happiness. "Always."

Brock took a moment to appreciate the scene before him: Joaquin's naked body, the collar, the hint of a bruise from where the hook had been. The trust and love Joaquin had for him was palpable, and it only made Brock want him more. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table, his hand shaking with excitement as he squeezed a generous amount onto his cock. He watched Joaquin's pupils dilate further, the anticipation of what was to come clear on his face.

"Ready for your punishment?" Brock's voice was a gruff whisper, a question that didn't really need an answer. Joaquin nodded eagerly, his breathing shallow and quick. Brock stepped closer, positioning his cock at the entrance of Joaquin's pussy. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness that surrounded him, the warmth that engulfed his length. Joaquin's eyes rolled back, his mouth forming a silent scream of pleasure.

With every inch that Brock claimed, Joaquin's body arched more, his toes curling into the plush carpet. He was a vision of submission, a canvas painted with desire and need. Brock felt his own desire spiral out of control, his hips moving of their own accord as he pushed deeper, filling Joaquin completely. The vibrations from the vibrator still echoed in the room, a silent testament to the intensity of their bond.

Joaquin's whimpers grew louder, his body begging for more. Brock complied, his thrusts becoming more powerful, each one sending shockwaves through Joaquin's body. The collar around Joaquin's neck was a constant reminder of his submission, of the power exchange that existed between them. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of love and lust that Brock never wanted to end.

He reached down to stroke Joaquin's clit, the slickness of his lover's arousal coating his fingers. Joaquin's moans grew more frantic, his hips bucking up to meet Brock's every thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the squelching of Brock's cock moving in and out of Joaquin's pussy, and the occasional clink of the collar as Joaquin's head fell back, exposing his neck.

The sight of Joaquin's submission sent Brock over the edge, and with a roar, he came, his seed filling Joaquin to the brim. The orgasm was intense, a white-hot explosion that seemed to rip through him, leaving him trembling and weak in its wake. Joaquin followed suit, his body convulsing as he came, the collar around his neck a stark reminder of the power dynamic between them.

Brock pulled out gently, his cock slick with their combined juices. He took a moment to appreciate the mess they had made, the proof of their passion and love smeared across the sheets and their bodies. With a contented sigh, he leaned down to kiss Joaquin, the taste of him still on his lips. Joaquin's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, as if afraid he would disappear if he let go.

"Thank you, Daddy," Joaquin whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. Brock kissed him again, deeper this time, feeling his cock twitch with the promise of more to come. He couldn't get enough of Joaquin, of the way he responded to his every touch.

Pulling back, Brock took in the sight of Joaquin's spent body, the collar still gleaming around his neck. "You're welcome, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "But we're not done yet."

Joaquin's eyes widened, a fresh wave of excitement washing over him. "What else do you have planned?" he asked, his voice a needy whine. Brock's smile grew wicked as he reached for the ropes that lay discarded on the floor. "Oh, you'll see," he said, his tone teasing.

With swift, sure movements, Brock bound Joaquin's wrists together with the rope, pulling them above his head and securing them to the headboard. Joaquin's body was a canvas of desire, the red marks from his previous restraints standing out starkly against his olive skin. Brock couldn't help but admire the beauty of it all, the way Joaquin's body responded to his touch.

Once Joaquin was secured, Brock stepped back to take in the view. Joaquin's legs were still spread, his pussy glistening with their combined juices. The collar around his neck gleamed in the dim light, a stark reminder of his ownership. "Spread your legs wider," Brock ordered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Joaquin's spine. Joaquin obeyed, his body responding to the command without hesitation.

Brock picked up the vibrator, now silent and discarded beside the bed. He turned it back on, the buzzing sound filling the room once more. Joaquin's eyes widened in anticipation as Brock placed it against his clit, the vibrations immediately sending him into a frenzy of pleasure. "You're going to come for me again," Brock said, his voice a mix of demand and promise. "And this time, you're going to scream my name."

Joaquin's body responded to the vibration, his hips rolling and pushing against the toy. Brock watched him, his own arousal growing as he saw the pleasure etched on Joaquin's face. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, his breath hot and heavy. "That's it, baby. Let it all out." Joaquin's moans grew louder, each one a symphony of pleasure that Brock felt resonate in his very soul.

With the vibrator still working its magic, Brock picked up the bottle of lube. He coated his fingers and slid them into Joaquin's pussy, stretching him open wider, preparing him for what was to come. Joaquin's walls clamped down around Brock's digits, eagerly welcoming the intrusion. The sensation was almost too much for Joaquin, and he knew he wouldn't last long. "Please," he begged, his voice strained. "I need more."

Brock chuckled darkly, enjoying the power he had over Joaquin. He added another finger, scissoring them apart and watching his lover's body squirm with need. "More of what?" he teased, his voice a seductive whisper. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head as he panted, trying to form coherent words. "More of everything," he managed to gasp out.

With a smirk, Brock complied. He withdrew his fingers, the vibrator still buzzing against Joaquin's clit, and lined his cock up once again. This time, he didn't bother with the slow, agonizing buildup. He slammed into him, burying his cock to the hilt with one swift motion. Joaquin's scream was music to his ears, a symphony of pleasure and pain that made Brock's blood sing. The collar around Joaquin's neck grew tight as he arched his back, his body straining against the ropes that held him in place.

Brock didn't hold back, his hips pumping in a relentless rhythm that had Joaquin's body shaking. The vibrator was forgotten, the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of that tight pussy all he could focus on. Joaquin's moans grew louder, his legs trembling as the orgasm built within him. Brock could feel it, the tightening of Joaquin's muscles around his cock, the way his body begged for release.

"Scream for me," Brock demanded, his own pleasure mounting. "Scream my name like the good little slut you are."

Joaquin's eyes snapped open, meeting Brock's intense gaze. "Brock," he wailed, his voice cracking with passion as he reached the peak of his climax. The vibrator was a distant memory as he was consumed by the sensation of Brock's cock claiming him over and over again. His pussy clenched around Brock's shaft, milking him, begging for his release.

Brock's own orgasm was building, his muscles tightening as he felt Joaquin's body spasm around him. He leaned down, capturing Joaquin's mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing his screams of pleasure. The taste of Joaquin's desire filled his mouth, mingling with his own. He couldn't get enough, his hips moving faster, harder, the sound of flesh on flesh a testament to their passion.

Joaquin's pussy clenched around him, the contractions growing stronger with every thrust. He could feel his lover's orgasm rippling through him, the intensity of it stealing his breath. "Brock," Joaquin panted, his voice a desperate plea. "I'm going to come again."

"Do it," Brock growled, his hips pistoning into Joaquin with an unbridled ferocity that sent them both spiraling over the edge. Joaquin's scream echoed in the room, his body convulsing as he came hard, the sensation of Brock's cock swelling inside him only adding to the pleasure. Brock followed suit, his release hot and powerful, filling Joaquin up until he thought he might burst.

Their bodies remained connected for a long moment, both panting and trembling, their hearts racing in sync. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air, a heady aroma that only served to cement their bond.

Finally, Brock pulled out, the sound of their separation making Joaquin whimper slightly. He looked down at his lover, the collar still gleaming in the dim light, and felt a surge of pride. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice soft and gentle now. Joaquin's eyes fluttered closed, his body still quivering with aftershocks.

"Suck" Brock shoved his fingers into Joaquin's mouth, the taste of their combined release coating them. Joaquin obeyed eagerly, his tongue swirling around the digits as Brock watched, his cock already beginning to harden again at the sight of his lover's submissive act. "You're so good to me," Joaquin murmured, his voice muffled by the intrusion.

With a smug smile, Brock removed his fingers and leaned down to kiss him gently, tasting himself on Joaquin's lips. "And I'll always be," he said, his voice a promise.

He took his time untying the knots that bound Joaquin's wrists, his eyes never leaving the marks the ropes had left behind. Each red line was a testament to the depth of their connection, a brand that spoke of the trust and love that existed between them. As the last knot was untied, Joaquin's arms fell to the bed, his wrists red and raw. Brock took them in his hands, kissing the tender skin, his tongue tracing the lines left by the rope.

Joaquin whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut at the tender contact. Brock's touch was like a balm to his overstimulated body, soothing the ache and leaving in its place a warmth that spread through him like wildfire. He felt cherished, loved, and utterly owned. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Brock's smile was soft as he kissed each of the raw, red lines on Joaquin's wrists, his tongue tracing the delicate patterns the ropes had left behind. "You're welcome," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Drink some water baby, you must be parched." He handed Joaquin a bottle that was conveniently placed on the bedside table.

Joaquin took a greedy swig, the cool liquid soothing his throat. His eyes remained locked on Brock's as he drank, the collar still fastened around his neck, a constant reminder of their dynamic. Once he had his fill, he handed the bottle back, his gaze never leaving Brock's. "What's next?" he asked, his voice a sultry purr that made Brock's cock twitch with interest.

"Patience," Brock chuckled, running a finger along the collar. "We have all night."

It was past two am when Joaquin finally went to sleep, his body thoroughly exhausted from the evening's activities. Brock had taken his time, exploring every inch of him, pushing his limits and then soothing the sting away with tender kisses and gentle strokes. The collar remained around his neck, a silent sentinel of his submission to Brock's dominance.

Brock lay beside him, his hand resting on the small of Joaquin's back, feeling the warmth and weight of his lover's body pressed against his. He couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him, a feeling that was as foreign as it was welcome. He had never felt this way before, this deep, all-consuming need to protect and cherish someone.

The collar around Joaquin's neck gleamed in the moonlight, a constant reminder of the trust that had been placed in him. It was a symbol of their love and the power exchange that existed between them. He traced the leather with his thumb, feeling the slight tremor that went through Joaquin's body at his touch. "You're mine," he whispered, the words a declaration of possession and love that resonated through the quiet room.

Joaquin stirred, his eyes opening lazily. He offered Brock a sleepy smile, his eyes still glazed with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. "Always," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent shivers down Brock's spine. Brock leaned in to kiss him again, his lips soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of their earlier play.

Their kiss deepened, the heat between them rekindling despite their exhaustion. "Look at me," Brock ordered, his voice still a gentle rumble.

"I'm tired Daddy" Joaquin's voice was a sleepy whine, but the need in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I know baby. Give Daddy a kiss," Brock coaxed, his eyes searching Joaquin's for any signs of distress. Joaquin leaned in, his lips brushing against Brock's in a gentle kiss that spoke of their bond, their connection deeper than the physicality of their play. The kiss grew in intensity, their tongues dancing together in a silent promise of forever.

Brock reached over to the bedside table, his hand closing around a small jar of soothing balm. He had picked it up on a whim, knowing Joaquin's penchant for rough play and the inevitable marks it would leave. With tender care, he began to apply the balm to Joaquin's wrists, massaging it in to ease the burn from the ropes. Joaquin's sigh of relief was music to his ears, his body melting into the bed beneath him as Brock worked his magic.

"You're too good to me," Joaquin murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"This game of ours wouldn't be fun if I didn't take care of you," Brock replied, his voice a warm rumble. He continued to rub the balm into Joaquin's wrists, his thumbs tracing soothing circles that had Joaquin's eyes sliding closed once more. "And besides," he added with a smirk, "you know I enjoy seeing my marks on you."

Joaquin couldn't help but smile at the possessive tone in Brock's voice. It was true; the marks of their play were like a secret language between them, a map of their shared pleasure that only they could understand. "Mm, I know," he murmured, his body already beginning to relax under Brock's gentle ministrations.

Brock's hands moved down to the collar, his fingers tracing the leather before unbuckling it. He knew Joaquin was sore, that he needed a break from the intensity of their play, but he also knew that the symbol of their dynamic was just as potent when it was off as it was when it was on.

"Rest now," Brock whispered, his voice a gentle command. "You've been a very good boy." Joaquin nodded, his eyes slipping shut again. Brock removed the collar, placing it back in the velvet box with a soft click. He set it aside, knowing it would be used again, but for now, it was time to switch gears, to show Joaquin that their relationship was more than just power and pain.

He slid into the bed behind Joaquin, his arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer. Joaquin melted into the embrace, his body fitting perfectly against Brock's. The warmth of their bodies melded together, creating a cocoon of safety and love that was more intoxicating than any drug. Brock could feel Joaquin's heart beating against his chest, the steady rhythm a comforting lullaby that soon had them both drifting into a deep, sated sleep.

When Brock awoke the next morning, the room was bathed in the soft glow of early dawn. He felt something warm and wet around his cock, and his eyes snapped open to find Joaquin already awake, deep throating him. Joaquin's eyes were closed, his expression one of pure concentration as he worked Brock's shaft, his throat muscles contracting around the head of his cock. Brock couldn't help but groan, his eyes rolling back in his head at the exquisite sensation.

He reached down to grip Joaquin's hair, his fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands. Joaquin's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting Brock's with a look of pure adoration. The sight of Joaquin like this, his mouth stretched wide around Brock's cock, was enough to make Brock's blood boil with lust. He gently began to fuck Joaquin's mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm.

The wet heat was exquisite, Joaquin's tongue swirling around him as he took him deeper. Brock could feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his balls. He tightened his grip on Joaquin's hair, setting a pace that was just shy of punishing. Joaquin's eyes watered, but he never broke their gaze, his own desire evident in the way he moaned around Brock's shaft.

"Good morning to me" Brock thought, his eyes still half-closed as he felt Joaquin's mouth around his cock. The sensation was heavenly, a perfect way to start the day. Joaquin's head bobbed up and down, his lips stretched wide around Brock's shaft, his cheeks hollowing with each deep suck.

Brock's grip tightened in Joaquin's hair, guiding his movements. The wetness of Joaquin's mouth, the heat of his throat, the occasional scrape of teeth—it was a symphony of sensation that had Brock's toes curling. He watched as Joaquin's eyes watered, but the man never once pulled away or made a move to stop. The dedication, the pure need to serve, was something Brock found incredibly arousing.

He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the base of his cock growing tight. "Take it all, baby," he groaned, his hips snapping upward. Joaquin took the hint, swallowing around him, his throat muscles tightening, working Brock's cock until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a roar, Brock came, his cum spurting into Joaquin's willing mouth, filling his throat. Joaquin didn't miss a beat, swallowing every drop, his eyes never leaving Brock's.

When Brock finally went still, his breathing ragged, Joaquin pulled off with a gasp, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He climbed up the bed, straddling Brock's hips. "How was that?" he asked, his voice teasing. Brock could only nod, his eyes glazed with lust. Joaquin leaned down to kiss him, their tongues dancing together, sharing the taste of their passion.

Brock traced Joaquin's bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the last remnants of their love across his skin. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice still thick with arousal.

Joaquin's smile grew wider as he felt Brock's cock twitch beneath him, already eager for more. But Brock had other plans. He rolled them over, placing Joaquin on his back, his cock now nestled between the man's legs. "It's my turn to serve you," Brock said, his eyes dark with need. Joaquin's smile grew into a full-blown grin as he felt Brock's mouth move down his body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips in its wake.

Brock paused at Joaquin's pussy, breathing in the musky scent of his arousal. He licked his lips, savoring the anticipation before diving in. His tongue flicked against Joaquin's sensitive flesh, eliciting a high-pitched squeal of pleasure. Joaquin's legs fell open wider, inviting Brock to explore deeper. With a groan, Brock obliged, his tongue delving into Joaquin's depths. The taste of him was intoxicating, a sweet and salty mix that had Brock's mouth watering for more.

Joaquin's hips bucked as Brock's tongue found his clit, swirling around the sensitive nub in tight circles. He moaned, his hands coming up to grip the bedsheets, his knuckles white with the effort of holding still. Brock's beard tickled against his sensitive skin, adding to the sensory overload. Joaquin's body was a symphony of sensation, each stroke of Brock's tongue a crescendo that sent waves of pleasure crashing through him.

Brock's teeth grazed Joaquin's inner thigh, making him jump and whimper. He knew that bite of pain was just the prelude to the intense pleasure that was to come. And come it did, as Brock's tongue slid back to his clit, pressing down firmly, the pressure just right. Joaquin's breath hitched, his body arching off the bed as the first orgasm began to build.

Brock was merciless, his tongue flicking and teasing, never allowing Joaquin's pleasure to wane. Joaquin's moans grew louder, his hips rolling to meet Brock's eager mouth. He felt the exquisite feeling of Brock's tongue on his clit, the way he sucked and licked, driving him wild.

The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the wet noises of Brock's mouth working on him. Joaquin's hands found their way to Brock's head, his fingers carding through the short hair, pulling him closer, urging him to never stop.

Brock's beard tickled and scraped against Joaquin's skin, adding to the delicious friction as he devoured him. Joaquin felt his orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He knew he was close, his body trembling with anticipation. "Brock," he breathed, his voice shaky. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Brock looked up, his eyes dark and hungry. "Cum for me, baby," he murmured, his voice a seductive command. And with that, Joaquin lost it, his body seizing with pleasure as he came hard. Brock's tongue never stopped working him, riding the waves of his climax, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

When it was over, Brock kissed his way back up Joaquin's body, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along his inner thighs, his stomach, his chest, until their lips met once more. Joaquin tasted himself on Brock's mouth, a heady mix of arousal and satisfaction that had him eager for more.

"You're a very naughty kitten" Brock chuckled as he pulled away from their kiss. "Already wanting more."

Joaquin couldn't help but purr at the affectionate nickname, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Always for you, Daddy."

"You're not allowed to wear underwear today" Brock said, his voice firm but playful. Joaquin looked at him with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "But what if someone sees?" he asked, his voice a breathy whisper.

"We're not leaving this apartment baby boy," Brock said with a wink, his finger tracing the line of Joaquin's jaw. "It's just for me to enjoy whenever I want"

Joaquin's cheeks flushed at the thought, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of naughtiness. He knew that the lack of underwear would leave him exposed and vulnerable to Brock's whims, but that was part of the thrill. He slid out of the bed, his body still humming from their earlier play. He grabbed one of Brock's old t-shirts, the fabric soft from years of wear, and slipped it over his head. It hung low on his hips, revealing the curve of his ass and leaving his pussy open to the cool morning air. He stepped into a pair of white socks, the only other item of clothing Brock had allowed him to wear.

Brock watched him with a smirk, his eyes raking over Joaquin's half-dressed form. The sight of him in just a t-shirt and socks was more erotic than any fancy lingerie could ever be. It was a silent declaration of his ownership, a reminder that Joaquin belonged to him, body and soul.

They spent the day in a haze of sensual teasing and tender moments of affection. Joaquin would catch Brock's eye and feel a jolt of heat low in his belly, knowing that at any moment, the playful glances could turn into something more intense. The anticipation was a sweet torment, a constant reminder of their dynamic that simmered beneath the surface of their everyday interactions.

Brock picked Joaquin up and sat him on the counter in the kitchen, his cock still standing at attention. Joaquin couldn't help but bite his lip, the anticipation of what was to come making his pussy throb. "You okay Daddy?" he asked, his voice a soft purr.

"Better than okay," Brock replied, his eyes dark with desire. He stepped closer, his cock brushing against Joaquin's ass. "You're going to be my little slut today," he murmured, his hand coming up to trace the line of the shirt that barely covered him.

Joaquin's breath hitched at the words, his body responding eagerly. "Yes, Daddy," he whispered, his eyes never leaving Brock's.

Brock's hand slipped beneath the shirt, his fingers finding Joaquin's pussy slick with need. He teased the entrance, watching the way Joaquin's body reacted to his touch. "You're already so wet for me," he said, his voice a low growl.

Joaquin's hips rolled, trying to encourage Brock to enter him. "Please, Daddy," he begged, his voice trembling with desire. Brock chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Joaquin's spine. "Patience," he said, his fingers playing with Joaquin's clit, drawing out the agony of waiting.

Finally, Brock slid his cock into Joaquin's pussy, filling him up in one smooth stroke. Joaquin's eyes rolled back, a scream of pleasure caught in his throat as Brock began to fuck him, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had Joaquin's legs shaking. The feeling of being so utterly filled and claimed was something Joaquin never got tired of.

Brock's hand reached around to pinch Joaquin's clit, sending him over the edge into another orgasm. Joaquin's nails dug into the countertop, his body arching as he came hard, his pussy clenching around Brock's cock. Brock groaned, his own orgasm building as he watched the pleasure wash over Joaquin's face.

With one final thrust, he came, filling Joaquin up with his cum. Joaquin's eyes rolled back, his body trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed into him. Brock leaned in to kiss him, his breath hot against Joaquin's skin. "Mine," he murmured against his lips, his cock still buried deep inside him.

Joaquin nodded, his chest heaving. "Yours, Daddy," he murmured back, his voice barely a whisper. Brock's hands were gentle as he helped Joaquin down from the counter, his eyes never leaving the other man's face. He could see the love and devotion in Joaquin's gaze, and it filled him with warmth.

But as the day wore on, Joaquin's mind began to wander. He craved the bite of the ropes, the thrill of being utterly at Brock's mercy. The thought of pushing Brock's buttons, of being a bad boy just to feel the sting of his hand, grew more tempting with each passing minute. It was a dangerous game, but one he knew they both enjoyed.

With a sly smile, Joaquin decided to act out. He knew what would get Brock going, what would make him want to tie him down and take control again. He waited until Brock was distracted, scrolling through his phone on the couch, before sauntering over, his hips swaying with each step. He straddled Brock's lap, his shirt riding up to expose his bare ass.

"What are you up to?" Brock asked, his eyes flicking up from his phone to meet Joaquin's mischievous gaze.

Joaquin shrugged, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt. "Just feeling a little... restless," he said, his voice a purr that had Brock's cock twitching in his pants.

Brock set his phone aside, his eyes narrowing as he took in Joaquin's flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded gaze. He knew that look, the one that said Joaquin was about to push his buttons. But instead of getting annoyed, a thrill shot through him. He loved it when Joaquin played this game, when he begged for the bite of pain and the rush of power that came from being tied down and claimed.

"You want me to tie you up again?" Brock's voice was low and gruff, his cock thickening at the prospect. Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving Brock's. "What did I tell you about patience?" Brock's tone was playful, but the underlying command was clear.

"But Daddy, I've been such a good boy," Joaquin whined, his voice a perfect mix of innocence and seduction. He wiggled his hips, his bare ass pressing against Brock's growing erection. "I need to be punished," he breathed, his eyes dropping to the floor in a display of feigned subservience.

Brock's grip on the couch cushions tightened. He knew what Joaquin was doing, and a part of him reveled in the challenge. "You want to be tied up, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Joaquin's spine. "Tied up with a gag in your little whore mouth while a fucking machine breaks your cunt?"

Joaquin's pussy twitched at the mention of the fucking machine, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He nodded eagerly, playing the part of the eager, desperate sub. "Please Daddy, I need it. I've been such a bad boy, I need you to punish me," he whined, his hands reaching back to slap his own ass, leaving a red handprint on his pale skin.

Brock's resolve crumbled at the sight. He couldn't resist Joaquin when he was like this, begging for it. He stood up, Joaquin's legs wrapping around his waist as he carried him to their playroom. He laid him on the bed, the anticipation in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Joaquin's eyes followed Brock as he pulled out the ropes and the gag, his cock already standing at full attention.

Joaquin giggled as Brock bound his wrists and ankles, securing him to the four posts of the bed. He could feel the cold steel of the cuffs against his skin, sending a thrill of excitement through him. Brock's eyes were dark with desire, his movements deliberate and precise. Joaquin knew he was in for a wild ride.

"Open your mouth," Brock ordered, his voice firm but laced with affection. Joaquin obeyed eagerly, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

With a smirk, Brock held up the red ball gag, watching the hunger flare in Joaquin's eyes. The sight of the gag always did something to him, a silent declaration of his submission and trust in Brock's care. Brock slid the gag into Joaquin's mouth, the ball filling it completely. He buckled the straps behind his head, making sure it was snug but not too tight.

Joaquin's eyes watered as he tested the gag, his muffled whimpers only serving to heighten Brock's arousal. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the anticipation of what was to come making the air feel charged with electricity. Brock stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Joaquin looked up at him, his eyes wide with excitement, the gag making him look even more vulnerable and delicious.

"Because you were a naughty kitten, I'm going to tie a vibe to your clit while the machine fucks you. I'm not going to touch you," Brock said, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. "You're going to have to come for me without any help from Daddy, until you're a overstimulated whore"

Joaquin's eyes widened at the idea, his body already responding with a fresh rush of arousal. He nodded frantically, his muffled moan echoing through the gag as Brock attached a small, powerful vibrator to his clit, securing it with a leather strap. The buzz was almost too much to bear, his body already on edge from the morning's play.

Brock moved to the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving Joaquin as he powered up the fucking machine. The low hum of the motor was a siren's song, a promise of the pleasure and pain to come. He lubricated the dildo attached to the machine, his hands moving with the ease of practice. The dildo was large, thicker than his own cock, and Joaquin knew he was going to feel it.

He positioned the machine at the foot of the bed, adjusting the angle until it was perfect. Joaquin felt the cool metal of the attachment pressing against his hole, and he couldn't help but whine in anticipation. Brock leaned over him, his hand coming down to caress Joaquin's cheek. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble. Joaquin nodded, his eyes wide and pleading.

With a flick of a switch, the machine roared to life. The dildo began to slide in and out of Joaquin's pussy, the sensation overwhelming. He bucked against his restraints, the ropes cutting into his skin, the vibe on his clit sending waves of pleasure through his body. The combination was intense, bordering on too much, but he loved it. He loved the way Brock watched him, the way his eyes darkened with each of Joaquin's muffled cries.

But just as Joaquin was about to reach the peak of his pleasure, Brock leaned down and whispered, "Not yet, baby," in his ear. He reached up and blindfolded him, cutting off Joaquin's sight completely. The world narrowed to the sensations in his body, the steady rhythm of the fucking machine, the relentless buzz of the vibe, and Brock's warm breath in his ear.

"I'll be back in an hour" Brock whispered into Joaquin's ear, his breath hot and heavy against the side of his face. He leaned down to kiss him deeply, his tongue claiming Joaquin's mouth before the gag was reinserted. The room grew quiet once more, the only sound the rhythmic buzz of the vibe and the steady throb of the fucking machine.

Joaquin lay there, bound and helpless, his body trembling with anticipation. The feeling of the dildo pumping in and out of him, the vibe mercilessly teasing his clit, was almost too much. He wanted to scream, to beg for Brock to touch him, to make him cum, but the gag prevented any sound from escaping. His eyes searched for something to focus on, but the blindfold had stolen his sight, leaving him adrift in a sea of sensation.

The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Joaquin's mind raced, thinking of all the ways Brock might decide to punish him. Would he come back and fuck him, taking his ass while the machine continued to pound his pussy? Would he use a paddle, or a crop, leaving marks on his skin that would remind him of this moment for days? Or would he ignore him completely, forcing him to endure the torment until he was a trembling mess, begging for relief?

Brock, meanwhile, had retreated to the living room. He picked up the remote, flipping through the channels without really seeing anything. His thoughts were consumed by the bound figure on their bed, his mind's eye tracing the lines of Joaquin's body, the way his ass was presented so temptingly, the sound of the machine a constant reminder of what was happening in the other room. He knew he could go back in there at any moment and give Joaquin the release he craved, but the thought of watching him squirm, of listening to his muffled pleas, was too tempting to resist.

He settled on a mindless reality show, the background noise a stark contrast to the erotic symphony playing out in their private domain. His hand found its way to his cock, stroking it slowly as he thought about his little slut, all trussed up and begging for more. He could feel his own arousal growing, his cock thickening in his grip as he imagined Joaquin's body writhing in pleasure and pain.

The TV show's participants bickered and flirted, their petty dramas playing out on the screen, but Brock's attention was elsewhere. Every now and then, he'd glance at the clock, his heart racing as the minutes ticked by. He knew Joaquin was probably on the edge of his sanity by now, desperately trying to hold back his orgasm. The thought brought a smug smile to Brock's face. He was in complete control, and Joaquin loved every second of it.

The sound of the fucking machine was like a metronome, setting the rhythm of their shared dance of desire. Joaquin's muffled whimpers and the occasional slap of skin against skin filled the otherwise quiet apartment. Brock's eyes remained glued to the TV, his mind racing with images of Joaquin's bound body. He felt the tension building in his own cock, his hand tightening around his shaft as he stroked in time with the machine.

The plot of the reality show washed over him, unimportant and unengaging. All he could focus on was the sound of Joaquin's muted cries for mercy, the way his body would tense and release with every thrust of the dildo. The TV was merely a backdrop, a distraction to keep his mind from fully succumbing to the erotic scene playing out in the other room.

Finally, the timer on his phone went off. He couldn't wait any longer. He stood, his cock throbbing with anticipation, and walked back into the playroom. What he saw made his heart race and his blood boil. Joaquin was a mess, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed a deep red. His eyes were wide and wild, searching for Brock in the darkness of his blindfold. The vibe on his clit was going full force, his pussy clenching and unclenching around the thick, unyielding dildo that filled him to the brim.

Brock's cock twitched at the sight. Joaquin looked absolutely wrecked, and it was all for him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of lust that raged through his body. He didn't want to rush this moment. He approached the bed, his steps measured and deliberate. Joaquin's chest was heaving, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The gag muffled his cries, but Brock could imagine the desperation in his eyes. He was so close, but he hadn't been given permission to come.

With a cruel smile, Brock reached out and gave Joaquin's clit a hard pinch. Joaquin's body jolted, his eyes snapping to Brock's face. The message was clear: he was in charge. He slid his hand down, feeling the wetness of Joaquin's pussy against his fingertips. The smell of sex filled the room, a heady scent that had Brock's mouth watering. He took his time, his fingers tracing the slick folds of Joaquin's sex, feeling him quiver beneath his touch. Joaquin's eyes pleaded with him, begging for relief, but Brock was in no rush to give it.

He rubbed slow circles around Joaquin's clit, watching as the smaller man's hips bucked against the bed, his restraints keeping him in place. The vibe continued its relentless assault, making Joaquin's body arch off the mattress with every pulse. Brock's cock was rock-hard in his pants, his own desire growing with every muffled cry that slipped past the gag. He leaned down, his breath hot against Joaquin's ear. "You're so close, aren't you, baby?" he whispered.

Joaquin nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold. He could feel the orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Brock's touch was a brand, a declaration of ownership that had Joaquin's blood racing. The world outside of their apartment didn't exist anymore; it was just the two of them, lost in a haze of desire and power dynamics.

Brock wiped away tears of pleasure from Joaquin's cheek, his thumb brushing against the salty skin. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. He turned off the vibe, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the previous symphony of pleasure and pain. Joaquin's body jerked, his orgasm denied once again.

Brock took his time, enjoying the sight of Joaquin's desperation. He reached down and pulled out the dildo, watching as Joaquin's pussy clenched and spasmed around the sudden emptiness. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the only evidence of the intensity of their play. Joaquin's body was a canvas of ropes, his wrists and ankles red and raw from the tight bindings.

With a smirk, Brock straddled Joaquin's chest, his cock bobbing in front of the gagged mouth. "Look how much you want it," he said, his voice low and gruff. Joaquin's eyes were glazed over with lust, his cheeks flushed from the exertion. He leaned in and kissed Joaquin's forehead, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the scene playing out around them. "Good boy," he whispered, his hand coming up to gently caress Joaquin's face.

In one swift motion, Brock unbuckled the gag, pulling it from Joaquin's mouth. Joaquin took a deep, shuddering breath, his jaw sore from being held open so long. Without waiting for further instruction, Brock took his cock in his hand and guided it to Joaquin's eager mouth. Joaquin's tongue darted out, licking at the head before Brock pushed it in, filling his mouth completely.

Joaquin moaned, the sound muffled by Brock's cock. He could taste his own juices, the musky scent of their combined lust thick in the air. Brock began to fuck Joaquin's mouth, his hips snapping forward with a punishing rhythm that had Joaquin's eyes watering. Joaquin's own arousal grew as he felt Brock's cock hit the back of his throat, his gag reflex fighting against his desire to please his Daddy.

Brock's hand tangled in Joaquin's hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. Joaquin's eyes rolled back as Brock's cock slid along his tongue, the head brushing against the soft palate. Brock's grip tightened, his hips moving faster as he took Joaquin's mouth, the power dynamics of their relationship on full display. Joaquin could feel his pussy pulsing with each thrust, desperate for attention.

With a grunt, Brock pulled out of Joaquin's mouth, his cock glistening with spit. He leaned back, admiring the picture he'd painted of submission and need. Joaquin's breath was ragged, his lips swollen and bruised. Brock couldn't resist the urge to lean down and kiss him, a gentle press of his mouth against Joaquin's that was at odds with the roughness of their play. Joaquin's eyes fluttered open, his gaze filled with love and adoration.

"Please, Daddy," Joaquin murmured, his voice hoarse from the gag. "I need to come. I need you."

Brock's smile grew wicked. "So eager, aren't you?" He leaned in, his cock hovering just out of reach of Joaquin's mouth. "But you're not in charge here, remember?"

Joaquin whimpered, his body aching for relief. Brock's touch had always been a drug to him, and now, bound and vulnerable, he was an addict craving his next fix. The power dynamics of their relationship had never been more apparent, and Joaquin reveled in the feeling of being owned, of being used for Brock's pleasure.

With a wicked smile, Brock reached between Joaquin's spread legs, his fingers finding their way to the slick, swollen folds of his pussy. He teased him, tracing light circles around the entrance before finally pushing inside. Joaquin's body arched off the bed, the sensation of being filled almost too much to bear. Brock's touch was gentle at first, exploratory, as if he was mapping every inch of Joaquin's most intimate space.

Then, as if he had found the secret button that made Joaquin's world come apart, Brock's fingers curled upward to press against his G spot. Joaquin's eyes rolled back in his head, his body tightening like a coiled spring. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that was both exquisite and unbearable. The sound of his own whimpers filled his ears, the only thing louder than the pounding of his heart.

Brock watched the transformation with a smug satisfaction. Joaquin's body was his plaything, a canvas for his art of dominance. He pumped his fingers in and out, the rhythm matching the beat of Joaquin's pulse. Joaquin's hips bucked up to meet him, his bound hands clenching the sheets in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of control. But there was none to be had, not when Brock was in charge.

The room grew louder with Joaquin's muffled cries, his body writhing under Brock's expert touch. His eyes rolled back in his head, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Joaquin felt his orgasm building, the pressure in his pussy growing tighter and tighter until it felt like it would consume him. And just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Brock curled his fingers, pressing hard against his G spot.

With a guttural scream that was barely contained by the ball gag, Joaquin's body erupted in a symphony of pleasure. His pussy clamped down on Brock's fingers, juices squirting out like a fountain, soaking the bed beneath him. His muscles spasmed, his legs shaking as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through him. The blindfold was soaked with his tears of pleasure, the ropes around his wrists and ankles cutting into his skin as he fought against them, desperately seeking more.

Brock watched with a mix of awe and hunger, his hand never faltering as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of Joaquin's convulsing pussy. The sight of his lover's release was intoxicating, a testament to the power he held over him. Joaquin's squirting was like a declaration of victory, a physical manifestation of his dominance. His own cock was painfully hard, the need to fuck Joaquin's tight, trembling body consuming him.

He pulled his fingers out, the wet sounds of Joaquin's arousal echoing through the room. Joaquin's eyes snapped open, his vision unfocused and hazy with pleasure. The blindfold was discarded, his gaze locking onto Brock's as if he were a lifeline in a stormy sea. "Daddy," he murmured, the word a plea for more.

Brock leaned down, his mouth capturing Joaquin's in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading the smaller man's mouth with a desperation that mirrored Joaquin's own. Joaquin could taste himself on Brock's lips, the tang of his release mixing with the taste of sweat and desire. He moaned into the kiss, his body still quivering from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Their kiss was a dance of power and passion, each man claiming the other in a silent battle of wills. Joaquin's hands reached up to Brock's shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. He needed to touch him, to feel the strength of the man who held him so completely in thrall. Brock's grip on his hips tightened, his kiss growing more demanding, more possessive.

Joaquin felt a rush of emotion, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. He had never felt so alive, so seen, as he did in these moments with Brock. The way Brock kissed him, like he was the only person who mattered, made Joaquin feel like the most precious thing in the world. His mouth was a prison that Joaquin never wanted to escape, the softness of Brock's lips a stark contrast to the steel of his grip.

As the last waves of his orgasm receded, Brock pulled back, his eyes searching Joaquin's. He saw the need there, the desperate craving for more. With a gentle touch, Brock removed the blindfold and unbuckled the collar around Joaquin's neck. Joaquin's eyes searched Brock's, looking for approval, for a sign that he had done well. Brock's smile was all the confirmation he needed.

The room was still, the only sound their heavy breathing and the quiet hum of the fucking machine. Brock leaned in, his mouth finding Joaquin's ear. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You took it so beautifully."

Joaquin's eyes filled with tears, not just from the intense orgasm, but from the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. He felt a warmth in his chest, a feeling of belonging that was almost too much to handle. He had never been with someone who understood his needs so deeply, who could give him the kind of pleasure and pain that made him feel truly alive.

"Daddy" He whimpered, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Brock looked into Joaquin's eyes and saw the unspoken need. He leaned down, kissing him softly before whispering, "You're safe, baby. Let it out."

With that, Joaquin's dam broke. He began to cry, his body trembling with the intensity of his release. Brock gathered him into his arms, holding him close as the sobs racked his frame. His strong arms wrapped around Joaquin's naked body, offering a sanctuary from the storm of sensations. Joaquin buried his face in Brock's chest, his tears soaking the fabric of his shirt. He felt safe, cherished, and utterly exposed in a way he never had before.

Brock's heart swelled with affection and pride as he held Joaquin. He knew the depth of his partner's submission, the trust it took to let go like that. He whispered soothing words into his ear, his hand gently stroking Joaquin's hair. The sound of his cries was a symphony of vulnerability, and Brock felt honored to be the one to elicit such raw emotion. He knew that Joaquin's tears were a release, a testament to the depth of their connection.

As Joaquin's sobs began to subside, Brock's own need grew more insistent. He kissed the top of his head, then slid down to kiss along the side of his face, tasting the salt of his tears. Joaquin's body was still trembling, but the tension was shifting, the painful edge of his orgasm giving way to a gentle afterglow. Brock felt his own cock throb with need, the sight of Joaquin's open, begging pussy a silent demand that he couldn't ignore.

With a gentle touch, Brock untied the ropes from Joaquin's wrists, the skin red and slightly raw from his struggle. He knew the marks would be a reminder of the power exchange, a visual sign of Joaquin's complete surrender. Joaquin whimpered as the blood rushed back into his hands, but it was a sound of relief rather than pain. Brock kissed each wrist, a silent apology and a declaration of his love.

Their eyes met, the air in the room thick with desire and emotion. Without a word, Joaquin spread his legs wider, offering himself up to Brock completely. "Not tonight baby bird," Brock said, his voice gruff with need. "Tonight, you've served me well. You've been such a good slut for me." He kissed Joaquin's forehead before standing up, his cock still rock hard.

Brock walked to the side of the bed and grabbed a bottle of lube. He squeezed some into his hand and began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's. "But I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice a dark promise. "I want to watch you come again. Touch yourself for me, show me how much you want it."

Joaquin's eyes widened at the command, but he didn't hesitate. His hand slipped between his legs, his fingers finding his clit, swollen and sensitive from the earlier assault. He began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, the feeling of his own touch a stark contrast to the earlier machine-induced pleasure. Brock's eyes followed his movements, his hand still working his own cock. The sight of Joaquin pleasuring himself was almost too much to handle, and Brock's hand tightened, his strokes growing faster.

Joaquin's breath hitched as his orgasm began to build again. He watched Brock, his eyes never leaving the older man's face as he touched himself. The room was a symphony of their shared desire, the slick sounds of Joaquin's fingers and Brock's palm against his cock echoing in the quiet space. The tension grew, each stroke bringing Joaquin closer to the edge, each gasp and moan from Brock driving him further into his own pleasure.

Brock's eyes never left Joaquin's hand, watching as he played with his own body. The sight was almost too much, his own cock begging for release. But he held back, his eyes burning with the intensity of his need. "Come for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I want to see you come again."

Joaquin's fingers moved faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He could feel the pressure building again, the tightness in his pussy that signaled his impending orgasm. The room was alive with the sound of their mingled breaths and the slick sounds of his fingers moving against his skin. And then, with a keening cry, Joaquin's body convulsed. He squirted again, the liquid spraying out in a glorious arc, painting the bed and his own stomach with his release.

Brock watched, his hand moving faster on his cock, his eyes never leaving Joaquin's face. The sight of Joaquin's pleasure was his own personal brand of aphrodisiac, a drug that had him on the edge of his own climax. He could feel the tension coiling in his balls, the heat spreading through his body like wildfire. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. Joaquin's chest was rising and falling rapidly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. "Now, it's my turn," Brock said, his voice low and commanding.

"Cum on my face Daddy" Joaquin begged, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Brock's cock was a steel rod in his hand, the pressure building, demanding release. He didn't need to be asked twice. He stepped closer to the bed, his hand moving faster as he watched Joaquin's fingers slide out of his pussy, glistening with cum. With one final stroke, he let go, his seed spurting out in thick ropes that landed on Joaquin's cheeks, his nose, and his parted lips. Joaquin's tongue darted out, catching some of the warm liquid, tasting himself mixed with Brock's release.

The room was silent except for their heavy panting, the smell of sex thick in the air. Joaquin's eyes were closed, his face a picture of bliss as Brock painted him with his cum. Brock's orgasm was like a volcanic eruption, powerful and all-consuming. His body jerked with each spurt, his toes curling into the plush carpet.

As the last drop fell from his cock, Brock's hand slowed, the final tremor of pleasure passing through him. He looked down at Joaquin, his chest heaving, his face a canvas of desire and satisfaction. Joaquin opened his eyes, the white lines of Brock's cum stark against his tanned skin. He licked his lips, savoring the salty taste.

"Open your mouth," Brock ordered, his voice still gruff from his climax. Joaquin obeyed, his eyes never leaving Brock's. Brock took his cock in his hand, the tip still pulsing slightly, and slid it into Joaquin's waiting mouth. Joaquin eagerly licked the last of his cum off, cleaning Brock as if he were the most delicious treat.

The intimate act of cleaning Brock's cock was a silent declaration of his submission, and it sent a shiver down Brock's spine. He stroked Joaquin's hair gently, his hand trembling slightly with the aftermath of his orgasm. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice filled with love and satisfaction. "Such a good slut for me."

Joaquin's eyes sparkled with contentment as he swallowed the last of Brock's seed, his lips curving into a soft smile. Brock leaned down and kissed him, tasting himself on Joaquin's mouth, the kiss tender and lingering. The power dynamics of their relationship were clear, but it was the love that shone through that made it all the more potent.

They lay there for a few moments, their bodies entwined, their hearts pounding in unison. The playroom was a sanctuary, a place where they could be their truest selves without fear of judgment. The aftercare was just as important as the play itself, a chance for them to reconnect and reaffirm their bond.

Brock gently untied Joaquin's ankles, his hands careful not to cause any more discomfort to the delicate skin. Joaquin's legs fell open, his pussy still glistening and swollen from the intense play. Brock couldn't help but admire the beauty of his lover, the way his body responded to the pleasure and pain. He leaned in and kissed Joaquin's inner thigh, the tender touch making him shiver.

Joaquin's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto Brock's. The love and trust in his eyes was like a punch to the gut, reminding Brock of why he cherished this man so much. "Thank you, Daddy," Joaquin whispered, his voice still hoarse from screaming.

Brock leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Joaquin's cheek. "You did so well," he murmured, his voice full of pride. "You're mine, baby bird. Always."

Joaquin's eyes shone with a mix of pleasure and submission. He felt completely claimed by Brock in that moment, his heart swelling with love. He knew he'd never find this level of connection with anyone else, and he didn't want to.

Brock climbed into bed with him, pulling the covers over their naked bodies. He cradled Joaquin in his arms, his hand gently stroking his lover's damp hair. Joaquin snuggled closer, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his intense orgasms. The warmth of Brock's embrace was like a balm to his soul, soothing the raw edges left by their play.

"You're mine," Brock whispered again, his voice a gentle rumble that resonated through Joaquin's body. "And I'll always take care of you."

Joaquin nodded, his eyes closing as he basked in the warmth of Brock's embrace. The aftercare was as vital as the play itself, a chance for them to reconnect and bask in the afterglow of their shared power exchange. Brock's hand traveled down Joaquin's body, his fingertips tracing the lines of his chest, his stomach, and finally coming to rest on his pussy. He massaged gently, feeling the tender flesh that had been so thoroughly used, his touch a silent promise that he would never push Joaquin further than he could handle.

Joaquin's breath hitched at the contact, his body still sensitive and responsive. He knew that Brock would never let him go, that he would always be there to guide him through the darkest desires of his heart. The trust between them was unshakeable, forged in the fires of their most intimate moments.

Brock's fingers slid into Joaquin's mouth, the taste of their combined release lingering on his skin. Joaquin sucked lightly, feeling the power dynamics shift once more. He was the one being used, the one who was owned. And he loved it. The feeling of Brock's fingers in his mouth was a symbol of their bond, a silent declaration of his submission.

Joaquin's eyes closed, his tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them with the same eagerness he had shown earlier. Brock watched with a mix of awe and hunger, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He felt the heat of Joaquin's mouth, the softness of his tongue, and the power of his submission. It was intoxicating, a heady cocktail of love and lust that made Brock's cock twitch with renewed interest.

Pulling his fingers out with a pop, Brock leaned down and kissed Joaquin's forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he whispered, "You're so beautiful when you're like this."

Joaquin's cheeks flushed with the praise, his body still humming with the echoes of pleasure. He looked up at Brock with adoration, his eyes shining with love and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me serve you," he murmured, his voice a soft purr of contentment.

Brock's gaze softened, his hand moving to cup Joaquin's cheek. "You don't ever have to thank me for that," he said, his voice thick with affection. "It's my pleasure to dominate you, to see you come undone like this." He leaned in and kissed Joaquin tenderly, their tongues dancing together in a sweet, loving embrace.

The next day, the sun had barely crested the horizon when Brock's hand slid into Joaquin's back pocket, pulling him closer as they strolled through the aisles of the local grocery store. The mundane task of shopping was a stark contrast to the intense scenes they had played out in the playroom, but it was in these quiet moments that their bond grew stronger. Joaquin felt the heat of Brock's body against his, a gentle reminder of the power exchange that existed between them even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the supermarket.

"I think I want whip cream for reasons" Joaquin murmured with a devilish smile as they pushed the cart down the aisle.

Brock chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, really?" He leaned in closer, his hand sliding around to give Joaquin's ass a firm squeeze. "And what might those reasons be?"

Joaquin's cheeks flushed, his eyes dropping to the floor as he whispered, "I...I had a thought. Something fun for dessert tonight."

Brock's grip tightened slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "I like where this is going," he said, his voice low and full of promise.

But as they turned into the next aisle, Joaquin's stomach plummeted. His parents were there, looking over the selection of fruits with a critical eye. Joaquin's confidence faltered, his body tensing as he realized the potential for embarrassment. "Fuck" he murmured under his breath, his eyes darting to the floor.

Brock felt the change in Joaquin's body language immediately. He followed his gaze and understood the source of his lover's discomfort. Without missing a beat, he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble in Joaquin's ear. "You're okay," he reminded him firmly.

Joaquin took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Brock's. He knew Brock was right; he had nothing to be ashamed of. Their relationship was consensual, beautiful, and a testament to their deep love and trust. He straightened his shoulders, a silent affirmation of his own strength.

As they turned the corner, Joaquin's heart skipped a beat. There, in the middle of the aisle, was his sister Luisa, her cart laden with groceries. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of them, and Joaquin felt a flash of panic.

"I'm gonna wait in the car" Joaquin said suddenly, his voice tight with anxiety.

Brock's eyes searched his, understanding the fear behind the words. "You don't have to hide, baby bird," he murmured, giving Joaquin's hand a gentle squeeze. "We're just two guys shopping."

"I can't Brock, not right now" Joaquin's voice was tight with anxiety. He knew Luisa was open-minded, more than the rest of their family, but the thought of her knowing that Joaquin was unemployed and living off of Brock made him want to crawl into a hole and hide.

Brock nodded, understanding the fear in Joaquin's voice. "Okay, I'll grab the rest and meet you in the car." He kissed him softly before letting him go.

Joaquin's legs felt like jelly as he hurried away, his heart racing. He couldn't face his sister, not like this, not when he felt so exposed and vulnerable. He didn't want her pity or her judgment, especially when she had her own successful life. He rounded the corner and practically ran into Luisa.

"Hey, what's the rush?" She asked, her eyes scanning his flustered expression.

"Don't" Joaquin stammered, his eyes darting around the aisle. "I don't want to talk to you" He was desperate to get away from her.

Luisa's expression softened, she could see the distress in Joaquin's eyes. She reached out and took his hand, gently leading him out of the aisle. "Okay, we don't have to talk now. But you can't run from me forever."

"Don't pretend you care about me now. Not after Mama and Papa disowned me for being gay and trans" Joaquin's voice was filled with pain and anger, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Luisa's grip tightened on his hand. "I never stopped caring," she said firmly. "You know that. They don't get to decide who you are or who you love. And they certainly don't get to decide who your family is."

"I don't want to talk to you" Joaquin roughly removed his hand and walked away.

Brock watched from a distance, his jaw clenched tightly. He knew Joaquin's family situation was complex and painful, but seeing him like this, hurt and on the verge of tears, was more than he could bear. He quickly picked up the remaining items they needed and made his way to the checkout, his mind racing with ways to ease Joaquin's pain.

Once in the car, Joaquin slammed the door shut and buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe they're here," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Brock slid into the driver's seat, placing a comforting hand on Joaquin's shoulder. "You don't have to hide from them," he said firmly. "You're a strong, beautiful person, and they should be proud of you, not the other way around."

Joaquin took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew Brock was right, but the weight of his family's rejection was heavy on his heart. "They'll never understand," he murmured, his voice muffled by his hands.

Brock leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Maybe not," he conceded. "But that's their loss. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go." He started the car, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he focused on the road ahead.

Joaquin's eyes were still glued to the supermarket doors as they pulled out of the parking lot. He couldn't shake the feeling of being seen, of being judged by those who were supposed to love him unconditionally. The silence in the car was thick, but it was a comforting blanket that enveloped them both.

"Do you remember when we met?" Brock's voice was a gentle rumble, cutting through the silence. Joaquin nodded, his eyes never leaving the rearview mirror as they watched the supermarket shrink into the distance.

"You were so scared, so unsure of yourself. But look at you now," Brock said, his hand sliding down to give Joaquin's thigh a firm squeeze. "You've come so far, baby bird. You're so strong."

Joaquin took a shaky breath, his eyes finally leaving the mirror to look at Brock. "Yeah, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it," he admitted, his voice small.

Brock reached over and took Joaquin's hand in his own, giving it a firm squeeze. "You're more than just my submissive," he said, his eyes on the road. "You're my partner, my equal. And I'll always be here to support you, no matter what."

Joaquin nodded, his eyes filling with tears. He knew Brock meant it, but the pain of his family's rejection was a wound that hadn't fully healed. He took a deep breath, trying to push the negative thoughts away.

"I need you," Joaquin blurted out suddenly, his voice desperate. "I need a quickie."

Brock's eyes widened in surprise but quickly narrowed with understanding. He knew Joaquin's mood swings and how sex could be a balm to his soul. Without missing a beat, he pulled over to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel. "What's got you so worked up, baby bird?"

"Just... I need to feel you inside me," Joaquin whimpered, his voice a mix of desperation and lust.

Brock's eyes darkened with desire at the request. He knew Joaquin well enough to understand that sometimes, his love language was physical, a way to reaffirm their bond and ease his pain. He nodded, pulling the car over to the side of the deserted road. "Alright," he said, his voice gruff with need. "But you're going to have to be quick."

Joaquin didn't need any further prompting. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed onto Brock's lap, his legs straddling Brock's waist. Brock's cock was already hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants. Joaquin reached down and freed it, his eyes never leaving Brock's. The cool air of the early morning hit his skin as he lowered himself onto Brock's shaft.

Brock's grip tightened on the steering wheel as Joaquin's warm, wet pussy enveloped him. He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking up involuntarily as Joaquin began to ride him. The car's interior was filled with the sound of their muffled gasps and the slap of their bodies coming together. Joaquin's hands were braced on the dashboard, his back arched as he bounced on Brock's cock with a desperate urgency.

Their eyes were locked, the intensity of their connection palpable even in the cramped space. Joaquin's hips moved with a frantic rhythm, his body seeking the release he craved so badly. Brock's hands slid up to grip Joaquin's waist, guiding his movements, setting a pace that had them both on the edge. The car's windows fogged up, the scent of their arousal mingling with the faint smell of gasoline and dust from the road outside.

"Fuck me, Daddy," Joaquin moaned, his voice high and needy. "Make me cum."

Brock's eyes never left Joaquin's as he leaned back in the seat, giving his lover full control. Joaquin's pussy was tight and wet around him, the friction delicious as he began to move faster, his breath coming in short, panting gasps. The car rocked slightly with their movements, the only sound in the stillness of the early morning.

With each bounce, Brock felt himself getting closer to the edge, his cock swelling inside Joaquin. His thumb found Joaquin's clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he watched the pleasure build on Joaquin's face. Joaquin's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent scream as he rode Brock's cock with everything he had.

"Come for me," Brock growled, his voice a harsh command that Joaquin couldn't ignore. Joaquin's body responded instantly, his pussy clenching tight around Brock's shaft as he came with a gush, his juices coating both of them. Brock's orgasm followed swiftly, his hips bucking up as he filled Joaquin with his cum.

Their breathing was ragged, their bodies slick with sweat and desire. Joaquin's head fell back, his eyes rolling back in his head as the waves of pleasure washed over him. Brock's arms wrapped around him, holding him close as he rode out the last tremors of his climax.

When their breathing finally evened out, Joaquin leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Brock's cheek. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse from his earlier screams.

Brock's arms tightened around him, his hand stroking Joaquin's back in a comforting motion. "You're welcome, baby," he murmured. "Now let's get you cleaned up." He helped Joaquin off his lap, the sticky evidence of their passion smearing on the leather seat. They managed to find some wipes in the glove compartment, cleaning themselves up as best they could before continuing the drive home.

The rest of the ride was silent, each lost in their own thoughts. When they pulled into the driveway, Brock turned to Joaquin, his eyes searching. "You okay?"

Joaquin nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I'm okay." He leaned in and kissed Brock, the taste of their passion still lingering on both of them. "Thank you for that."

Brock returned the smile, his thumb caressing Joaquin's cheek. "Anytime, baby. You know you can always come to me when you need to let go." He grabbed their shopping bags from the backseat and followed Joaquin into their home, the scent of their love still heavy in the air.