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The silence between them was brutal.
They walked side by side through the lot, the night air heavy with humidity and unspoken words.
Josh hadn’t said a word since they stepped off the soundstage. Tyler tried to ignore it at first, but Josh’s silence wasn’t just brooding. Tyler could feel the tension... the way Josh’s whole body moved differently, stiffer and heavier.
“You okay?” Tyler finally asked, the words careful but impatient as they reached the back of the venue and approached the car waiting for them.
Josh didn’t answer, just exhaled through his nose, long and slow. Tyler swore he would have breathed fire if it was humanly possible.
“Josh...” Tyler pressed again, voice sharper now. “What is it?”
Josh stopped so abruptly, Tyler nearly walked into him. He turned slowly, and Tyler knew immediately that this was bad.
“You really went too far today, Tyler.”
Oof...
Tyler.
He only ever used his full name like that when he was either dangerously turned on or absolutely livid. And judging by the steel in his jaw and the lack of color in his knuckles, Tyler could rule out the former.
“What?” Tyler blinked, still half-confused. “It was just a normal interview-”
Josh took a step forward, forcing Tyler back against the side wall of the alley. The movement wasn’t violent, but it was firm and measured, dominant in a way that Tyler wasn’t used to seeing from him.
Josh looked nothing like the playful, obedient thing Tyler had teased and called good boy backstage just yesterday. This was something else entirely, and it made Tyler’s stomach flip.
“Cut the crap,” Josh bit out. “You know exactly what you did.”
Tyler frowned, racking his brain, trying to figure out what he’d said that was so bad. It was a dumb interview... light questions, sarcastic answers, he hadn’t even touched Josh or anything.
Josh shook his head when he realized Tyler didn't get it. His jaw clenched tight. “You basically called me a good boy back there.”
Tyler opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. “But- you like being called that,” he said defensively. “I didn’t think-”
“Yeah,” Josh snapped, turning away for a second, his voice raw. “I do. When it’s just the two of us," he said through gritted teeth. "Not when there’s a fucking camera three feet from my face.”
Tyler’s stomach dropped.
He hadn’t even thought about it like that, he’d been joking, high from the show, high from the teasing they’d done backstage. It had just slipped, he hadn’t meant to expose anything.
Josh shook his head at Tyler's silence, eyes suddenly tired. “Just...” He turned away again. “Stay away from me right now.”
...
Josh basically ran towards the far corner of his hotel room, where his silent drum kit waited in its usual setup, black and rubber and harmless-looking.
He didn’t look back when they got to the hotel, just got out of the car and headed straight inside. Tyler watched him disappear down the hallway with a helpless expression, but he made no move to follow.
Inside the room, Josh dropped his bag carelessly on the floor, grabbed the sticks, yanked his noise-canceling headphones over his ears, and sat down hard on the stool.
No warm-up. Just rage.
Fuck Tyler and his runny mouth.
Fuck the interviewer’s smirk.
Fuck the cameraman’s stupid giggle.
Fuck his own fucked-up need to be called a good boy.
He hit harder, let it burn through his arms and his chest until his shirt was soaked and his hair stuck to his face and all the sharpness in him had dulled into static.
Even though the drums were silent, Tyler could hear the tension bleeding through the wall, the thudding of sticks on rubber still carried through the adjoining rooms like war drums.
He lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head, trying to think of a way to fix it.
The moment turned over and over in his head again. The words just... slipped out. They’d been teasing so much lately, it felt like the line between backstage and real life had blurred for a second too long.
He hadn’t realized how sacred that space was for Josh, hadn’t realized how careless he sounded.
...
When the noise stopped, he gave it another hour before he got up, crossed the hall and knocked.
The Josh that opened the door looked calmer now, but still distant. His hair was a little messy, shirt clinging to his chest with sweat and his eyes weren’t so sharp anymore. Less like a knife, more like a warning.
He didn’t say anything.
Tyler took that as permission to step inside.
He hovered awkwardly just inside the room, fingers twitching at his sides like he couldn’t decide what to do with them. Josh stood still too, arms crossed, leaning back against the door, watching.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said finally. “I realize now I went too far.”
Josh didn’t move, didn’t answer, just stared.
Tyler shifted his weight. “I didn’t think first, I just... said it. And I wasn’t trying to humiliate you, I swear."
Josh let out a long exhale through his nose, and it softened a few knots in Tyler’s chest.
“Is there... is there a way I can make it up to you?”
Josh watched him closely, head tilted slightly like he was weighing the apology. But honestly? He had kind of forgiven him the second he saw how messed up Tyler looked about it. All fidgety and earnest, like a kicked puppy. It wasn’t like Tyler meant to out him.
Still, a little payback never hurt.
“I don’t know,” Josh said slowly. “Maybe you should be banned from talking at the next one.”
Tyler blinked. “What?”
Josh blinked back, a dangerous glint lit behind his eyes. “Actually... now that I think about it-” He drew the words out, pretending to consider it. “I know exactly how you’re gonna make it up to me.”
Tyler straightened slightly, suspicion sparking. “Yeah?”
Josh pushed off the door and took a few steps forward, slow and deliberate. “We’ve got another interview tomorrow, right?”
Tyler nodded.
Josh’s smirk deepened. “Then we’re doing it in costume.”
Tyler squinted. “Torch and Clancy?”
Josh nodded. “Yep.”
Tyler tilted his head, cautious. “Okay... and?”
“I know a way to make sure you won’t say a single word out of line.
...
The knock on Tyler’s door came sharp and right on time.
He opened it already dressed up... his jacket zipped, boots laced tight, Clancy mask in hand. His eyes flicked up to meet Josh’s. The other man was already in full costume, the yellow X on his hoodie glowing slightly under the hallway light.
Josh gave him a slow once-over, then smiled.
“Perfect timing," he said, stepping inside without waiting to be invited. He closed the door behind him. “Before you put that on...” he gestured to the Clancy mask in Tyler’s hand, “...I have a little something for you.”
Tyler frowned. “Josh, what-”
Josh reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled something out. Something small, black, and unmistakably not innocent.
Tyler’s face dropped. “No.”
Josh just held it out... a sleek black silicone ball gag, the strap looped over his fingers like a dare. “Yes.”
A long silence followed as Tyler stared at it, eyes almost comically wide. His grip on the mask tightened.
“You’re not serious,” he said finally.
Josh’s grin only grew. He stepped closer, holding it out like an offering. “Oh, I absolutely am.”
Tyler didn’t take it.
“You’re gonna wear this,” Josh said calmly, “under the mask. And you’re not going to talk at all today.”
His voice dropped slightly, somewhere between a threat and a whisper. “Because you won’t be able to.”
Tyler swallowed.
Josh stepped even closer, heat radiating off him now. “And the best part? Nobody’s gonna know. You’ll sit there with that perfect poker face, looking all dramatic and mute and mysterious, and nobody will guess what’s in your mouth.”
Tyler’s jaw clenched.
He hated how turned on Josh looked, he hated the glint in his eyes, the slow satisfaction blooming behind his smirk. Tyler was used to being in charge, he liked being in charge. The idea of not speaking, of not controlling the room and letting Josh take the lead?
It made his skin crawl and his pulse race.
“Jesus... God,” Tyler muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Is there any way I can get out of this?”
He looked at Josh, almost pleading. One last Hail Mary.
Josh tilted his head. “Hell no.”
Tyler sighed dramatically.
“You’re on vocal rest today,” Josh added, making air quotes with both hands. “And I’m answering the questions.”
Tyler stared at the gag again, then back at Josh. Then down again.
“Alright,” he said finally, resignation in every syllable. “I guess I deserve this.”
Josh didn’t even pretend to argue. “Damn right you do.”
He held the gag out a little further, palm up, voice low. “Now be a good boy and put this in your mouth.”
Tyler didn't even try to mute the groan.
He took the gag, slow and reluctant, held it in both hands for a beat, then sighed, parting his lips and slipping the ball between his teeth. He tightened the strap around the back of his head with a finality that sent a bolt of heat straight down Josh’s spine.
Once it was in place, Tyler looked up at him, gagged and thoroughly displeased, and Josh wanted to howl.
“Don’t look so grim, Ty,” he said, barely keeping a straight face. “You look really fucking good like that.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes, he wasn’t amused.
“Go on,” Josh added, nodding toward the mask. “Put it on.”
Tyler reached for it stiffly, pulled the Clancy mask down over his head, adjusting it until it sat flush against his skin. The effect was immediate... cold, stoic, unreadable. You’d never guess what was beneath it.
Josh felt practically giddy.
Nobody would know. Not the press, not the fans, not even the crew they worked with every day. To everyone else, Tyler would just seem like he’d chosen silence. Meanwhile, the lead singer couldn’t say a single word, couldn’t crack a joke or sass back for a whole different reason.
Josh could already picture it.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
...
The studio was already warm, but Tyler felt like he was roasting alive.
The interviewer took one look at them as they walked in, Josh upright and glowing in his Torchbearer costume, Tyler silent and masked beside him, and cracked a grin like he thought he was clever. “Well damn, you boys really committed to the aesthetic today, huh?”
Normally, Tyler would’ve snapped something back. Something dry and pointed... “Yeah, unlike you.” Or maybe “Gotta give you something to write about.” But all he could do was stand there and breathe through his nose.
Josh, ever the polite golden retriever, just laughed softly and nodded. “We like to keep things interesting.”
Tyler bit down on the gag so hard his jaw clicked.
They sat close together, closer than they needed to on the small interview couch. Josh angled toward the camera with practiced ease. Tyler stayed still, arms crossed, jaw aching already. The interviewer shuffled some cards like he was pretending to be organized, and then the questions started.
God.
They were stupid.
They were so fucking stupid.
“How do you decide who wears what color?”
“What’s with all the cryptic stuff online? Are you guys, like, okay?”
“Do you guys actually live together during album writing?”
Tyler wanted to scream. Instead, he seethed in silence, the gag pressed so tight against his teeth it was starting to hurt. He’d kill for a sip of water. Or a microphone. Or a fistfight.
And Josh? Josh just smiled and answered everything perfectly. Sweet, friendly, no sarcasm, no teeth.
Tyler narrowed his eyes, seething harder.
To make it worse, Josh kept brushing against him... his knee knocking Tyler’s thigh every few minutes, sometimes tapping, sometimes lingering. And whenever a question came up that was even vaguely deeper, Josh would turn his head toward Tyler with a casual glance, as if waiting for him to chime in.
He didn’t need to look at him like that. Not with that smug little glint in his eye.
Tyler stared back through the mask, unblinking. If he could set things on fire with his eyes, Josh would’ve gone up in flames.
But Josh only smiled, turned back to the host, and answered the question with poise.
At one point, the interviewer squinted down at his cue card and went, “This one’s for Tyler, actually. I’ve always wanted to know... do you write lyrics first, or melodies first, or do you just, like... feel it?”
Tyler tensed.
God, what a stupid fucking question.
He wanted to mock it, he wanted to obliterate it. He had ten clever, asshole responses lined up in his brain already.
Instead, he felt Josh’s arm curl around his shoulders, warm, smug and unforgivable.
“Ah, yeah... sorry about that. Tyler’s on vocal rest today,” Josh said sweetly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He’s unable to speak. Forbidden to speak, actually.”
Tyler turned his head slowly, dangerously, sending a death glare, max setting.
Josh just smiled wider.
...
The second the interview wrapped, Tyler was on his feet, storming through the fake smiles and polite handshakes like a loaded gun with a faulty safety. He didn’t say a word, well... he couldn’t, really... but his posture said plenty.
As soon as they got behind a closed door, just past the set, into a private corridor, Tyler reached for his mask, fingers already fumbling to rip it off.
Josh caught his wrist.
“No,” he said quietly but firmly. “Not until we’re back at the hotel.”
Tyler’s glare could’ve leveled a building.
Josh swore he felt his soul briefly leave his body and die seventeen different deaths under the weight of that look. But Tyler didn’t fight him, just exhaled sharply through his nose and lowered his arm. That obedience didn’t feel like surrender, it felt like a threat.
The ride back was silent, but far from peaceful or still. Tyler bounced his leg relentlessly, fingers digging into his thighs so hard Josh was sure it would leave red marks even through his pants. He didn’t look at Josh once.
Josh sat beside him, smug façade slowly slipping into something more cautious. He could feel the storm building beside him, thick and electric, pressing against his skin like heat lightning. He was starting to think maybe he’d pushed too far.
But boy, did that make him excited.
By the time they reached the hotel, Josh barely got the door to his room open before Tyler shoved in behind him, mask still on, radiating enough rage to peel the paint off the walls.
Josh turned to say something, but Tyler was already on him.
One hand slammed against his chest, forcing him back into the wall behind him with a thud. The other rose to his throat, fingers curling there, not choking, but firm and possessive. Like a silent promise.
The Clancy mask was still on.
The gag was still in.
And Tyler’s eyes... fuck, his eyes were wild.
Josh swallowed thickly.
This wasn’t the good, silenced boy from the interview. This was Tyler unbound, furious and commanding - even with his mouth still gagged. And god, it did something dangerous to Josh.
Tyler’s hand slid from his throat up to his jaw, his grip never faltering as he reached above his head with his other hand and finally tore off the mask. His hair was a sweaty, tangled mess, his eyes locked on Josh like crosshairs.
Then came the gag.
His fingers worked the buckle with one hand, a rough, practiced flick, and then he pulled the wet silicone from his mouth and let it fall to the floor between them without a care.
Tyler couldn’t speak right away, first he had to stretch his stiff jaw slowly. He rolled it side to side and licked his lips, all while holding Josh’s gaze.
Josh couldn’t breathe, the silence was somehow worse than any yelling.
Then, finally, Tyler spoke. Voice low and controlled, like a quiet promise soaked in fury.
“I hope you had a good time, pup.”
Josh’s stomach flipped.
“Because the fun?” Tyler leaned in, his breath hot against Josh’s ear. “Is now over.”
Josh’s knees buckled before he could stop them. His cock twitched inside his pants and a soft, pathetic whine slipped past his lips, entirely involuntary.
Tyler grinned, dark and dangerous.
“That’s right,” he said, tone sharp and satisfied. “That’s the only sound I want to hear from you from now on. You’ve talked enough today.”
Josh nodded, eager and submissive. His cock already straining against the front of his pants, aching for what he knew was coming.
Tyler’s hand was still firm around Josh’s throat, thumb pressing just beneath his jawline, the pressure just enough to keep him focused.
“Get down on your knees,” Tyler ordered, voice low and flat. “Hands above your head.”
Josh hesitated, not because he didn’t want to obey, but because he was still crowded against the wall, no room to maneuver. He looked up at Tyler, expecting space, permission, anything.
But Tyler didn’t budge.
It took a few awkward shifts for Josh to sink to his knees, body dragging along the wall, shoulders tight from the angle. When he finally settled, he found himself eye-level with the bulge in Tyler’s pants, and fuck, it was hard not to stare.
Tyler saw the pause, the hunger, the way Josh’s tongue darted out instinctively.
“HANDS,” Tyler barked.
Josh jolted, his head snapped up with wide, apologetic eyes, the kind that almost begged for forgiveness, and he quickly raised his hands above his head, wrists together.
Tyler clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Dog gets to be in control for one day and suddenly forgets how to follow basic commands.”
He leaned in, breath hot near Josh’s temple. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna put you back in your place.”
Josh whimpered, full-body shudder making his thighs twitch. His cock strained painfully against his jeans, the tip already damp.
Tyler reached behind his neck and pulled the stole from his costume. He looped it around Josh’s wrists, knotting it with practiced ease, the fabric snug and biting. A few inches of material hung loose, and Tyler wrapped it around his hand like a leash.
He leaned back just enough to undo his fly, pushing both jeans and briefs to his knees in one fluid motion. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking.
In the cramped space between them, it landed heavily against Josh’s cheek.
Josh gasped, the weight of it knocked the breath from his lungs and made his mouth fall open on instinct. The salty smear of precome already slicked his skin.
Tyler wrapped the stole around his knuckles tighter, tugging Josh’s bound wrists up just a little higher. He tilted Josh’s chin with two fingers and said, low and deliberate..
“You know your safeword and signals, mutt?”
Josh nodded quickly, eyes wide and reverent.
“Good.” Tyler’s tone darkened, hand fisting at the base of his cock. “Open.”
Josh obeyed instantly.
Tyler fed it to him slowly... at first. The dry stretch of skin dragged over Josh’s tongue and down his throat in one long, merciless push. Josh choked, his shoulders jerking as his lips stretched wide around the girth, and his eyes watered immediately.
There was nowhere to go. His head was backed against the wall, his knees aching on the hotel carpet, and Tyler’s cock was already filling his mouth to the hilt. Josh’s gag reflex spasmed, but he couldn’t pull away, not with Tyler’s hand fisted in the leash and the wall behind his skull.
“That’s right,” Tyler said, watching every twitch of Josh’s face. “You wanna prove you’re a good dog?” He leaned in, voice low and steady. “Then take it.”
Josh moaned, a guttural, wrecked sound around the length in his mouth. Drool spilled out the corners of his lips, dripping down his chin. His thighs squeezed together as his cock throbbed, completely untouched but already threatening to spill just from the humiliation.
Tyler began to move, shallow at first, letting Josh get used to the stretch. Then he went deeper, more insistent.
Josh’s fingers clenched, bound above his head, arms trembling. His breath came in wet, uneven bursts around the thick length fucking his throat. Every time he tried to breathe, Tyler shoved back in, deeper, slower, meaner.
“Look at you,” Tyler muttered, sweat beading on his brow. “So full of attitude yesterday... Where’d that go now, huh?”
Josh made a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, his eyes were glassy, tears slipping down both cheeks, spit glistening on his chin. But his pupils were blown, his body shaking with arousal.
Tyler grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulled back just enough to let Josh suck in some air, then pushed right back in, punishing and smooth.
Josh opened wider, as far as his jaw would allow, eyes glassy as he looked up, pleading, wrecked and desperate.
Tyler saw it and grinned, something dark and satisfied tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tightened his grip on the makeshift leash, pressing Josh’s bound wrists harder to the wall.
He set a punishing rhythm, thrusting in and out with increasing force, his spit slicked cock finally sliding in with ease, and he hissed through his teeth.
“Mmm, there it is,” he growled. “That’s more like it.”
Josh tried to keep still, tried to breathe, but the angle, the pace... there was no room for control. His arms strained above him, wrists bound tight, back arched awkwardly against the wall. He was helpless, completely and beautifully at Tyler’s mercy.
“You think you’re so fucking good at talking,” Tyler bit out, voice low and brutal. “But this-” he punctuated with a hard thrust that made Josh groan around him, “-this is what your mouth is really good for.”
Josh whimpered again, the sound guttural and wet. Tears were already gathering at the corners of his eyes, and with every thrust, they spilled freely down his flushed cheeks. Tyler’s cock hit deep, again and again, never giving him a break. His lips were raw, his throat sore, and he still took it.
Because he was a good dog. Because this was what he wanted... what he needed.
And Tyler knew it.
Josh gagged once again, the thick pressure hitting too fast, too deep. His body jolted but there was nowhere to go, no way to pull back.
Tyler just laughed, a low, breathless sound. “What’s wrong?” he mocked, hips snapping forward again. “Puppy bite off more than he can chew?”
Josh let out a broken moan, muffled around the length in his throat. His body was trembling now, visibly shaking under the strain. The intensity, the unrelenting rhythm... he was unraveling. His cock was still trapped in his jeans, soaking the front, twitching with every thrust, and he swore he was close to coming untouched. He was nothing more than a toy now, just a hole for Tyler to use, and the thought alone nearly undid him.
Tyler pushed deep one last time, groaning low in his chest.
Then he pulled out.
Josh gasped violently as air rushed back into his lungs. His head fell forward, drool spilling freely from his open mouth, dripping from his chin to his already soaked shirt. His lips were red, jaw trembling, cheeks stained with spit and tears. He looked completely wrecked.
Tyler stared down at him, chest still heaving, cock wet and flushed and aching for more, but he looked satisfied.
He stepped back, gave the leash a sharp tug, and Josh stumbled clumsily to his feet, arms still bound together. He followed without resistance, blinking dazedly through his tears and spit-slicked haze. Tyler didn’t speak, he just dragged him forward, until they stopped at the edge of the bed.
Then Tyler shoved him down.
Josh landed in the center with a breathless grunt, but before he could gather himself, Tyler was climbing over him, straddling his thighs, pushing the rest of the stole up and securing Josh’s bound wrists to the headboard. The position stretched his arms high, chest exposed, back arched just enough to make him feel vulnerable.
Tyler stood then, stepping back just long enough to strip out of his own pants and shirt. Once bare, he climbed back onto the bed and pushed Josh’s shirt upward, but not all the way, he let it bunch over his face, blinding him.
Josh’s breath hitched immediately.
He couldn’t see, just feel.
Tyler’s palms slid slow over his chest, fingertips ghosting over his nipples, teasing at first, then pinching. Josh cried out, whole body arching at the sharp twist of sensation. “Fuck, Tyler- please...” he gasped, already writhing.
Tyler’s hand snapped down again, this time flicking the tender bud harder. “Silence,” he growled. “Dogs don’t speak.”
Josh whimpered, biting his tongue, trying to hold it together when Tyler repeated the motion, twisting, pinching and teasing, until Josh’s muscles tensed with every tiny flick.
Then came the shuffle of movement. Tyler’s hands were at his pants now, unzipping, tugging them down along with his underwear, stripping him bare from the waist down. The air was cool on his soaked cock, the fabric clinging as it peeled off, and Josh barely had time to recover before a hand wrapped around him.
He gasped.
Tyler stroked him slow but firm, fingers slicking through the mess of precome, spreading it with long, deliberate drags up and down his length. Josh’s hips bucked without permission, and Tyler immediately let go.
Josh choked on a moan, his thighs trembling.
Then... nothing.
No touch, no sound, just the quiet noise of Tyler moving off the bed, and a zipper opening. Josh was still panting when the cold slick of lube hit his hole without warning. He flinched, gasping, before Tyler’s hand was on him again, this time pressing with purpose.
There was no buildup.
Just one finger, pushed in to the last knuckle. Josh cried out, head snapping back, legs twitching with the sudden stretch.
“Yeah,” Tyler growled, voice gravel-thick. “Taking it so good.”
A second finger followed, slick and forceful, spreading him wider. Josh moaned again, broken and loud, nearly said something, but bit it back. Tyler noticed.
“That’s right. That’s my sweet puppy,” he said, voice steady and rough with arousal. “All pliant, legs open and ready to be fucked.”
He fucked him slow with his fingers, curling and scissoring, working him open. “Ain’t that right?”
Josh nodded hard, desperate, the motion jerky beneath the fabric covering his face. His breathing was wild, everything felt more intense without his sight. Every brush of fingers, every stretch of his hole, every vibration of Tyler’s voice sent heat spiraling straight through him.
“Yeah,” Tyler groaned, the sound low and hungry.
And then he pushed a third finger in, thick and unrelenting. Josh gasped, legs spreading wider on instinct even as the stretch burned.
The resistance was sharp, and overwhelming, but it didn't last too long.
Tyler pulled his fingers free, slick and glistening, and shuffled forward. Josh felt the shift of weight on the mattress, the tension in the air as something heavier replaced the fingers pressing against his rim.
Then Tyler’s cock was dragging over him.
Josh groaned out loud, his bound hands pulling tight against the stole tied to the headboard. He tested the fabric again, strained against it as instinct begged for control, for grounding, for anything... but it held firm.
And there was nothing he could do but take it.
Tyler’s cock breached him slowly, stretching him wide around the head. “Ohh.. oh my fucking GOD,” Josh choked out, voice high and cracked as the fullness hit.
Tyler just smacked the back of Josh’s thigh as a warning and kept pushing in, inch by inch. “That’s it, baby,” Tyler growled. “Take that cock like the good little pup you are.”
Josh’s breath stuttered, his flushed cock lay rigid against his stomach, twitching helplessly with every thrust. It leaked uncontrollably, pooling slick on his abs.
Tyler dragged his fingers right through it, but never once touched him where he needed it.
Josh moaned again, desperate and wrecked.
Tyler scoffed and drove in harder. “What,” he sneered, voice low and cruel, “you want me to touch you, puppy?”
Josh nodded frantically, hips rolling involuntarily. The shirt still obscured his face, but Tyler reached up and tugged it down now, exposing flushed cheeks, sweat-damp curls, eyes wild and rimmed red.
He wanted to see him.
“What was that, huh?” Tyler taunted, keeping his rhythm brutal and steady. “You want me to make you come?”
Josh nodded again, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. His throat was too tight to speak, he couldn’t find words anyway.
Tyler dragged his palm over the mess on Josh’s stomach, smearing precome across his skin, painting over his abdomen and ribs. He brought his fingers close to Josh’s cock, then pulled away.
“Well, too bad,” Tyler said flatly. “’Cause I’m not gonna.”
Josh cried out, the sound halfway between a sob and a moan, writhing beneath him in protest. His wrists tugged helplessly at the stole again.
“You’re gonna come like this, baby,” Tyler said, voice fierce and breathless. “You’re gonna come untouched...”
He snapped his hips forward, harder now, every thrust punching the air from Josh’s lungs.
“Or you’re not gonna come at all.”
Josh’s mouth dropped open, he looked down between them, his own cock flushed and leaking against his stomach, twitching uselessly. Tyler’s cock kept disappearing between his legs, slick and punishing, stretching him open over and over again.
He whimpered, threw his head back in frustrated surrender, squeezing his eyes shut.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
His whole body was buzzing, held right at the edge.
Tyler shifted closer, the angle deeper now, devastating. He changed rhythm into short, hard thrusts that dragged loud, broken sounds from Josh’s throat. His bound hands clenched and unclenched above his head, fists curling in the soft fabric of the stole.
Tyler was close, Josh could feel it in the way his breath caught, the way his hips started to stutter, more desperate now.
Then Tyler leaned in low, voice a dark growl near Josh’s ear.
“Look at you,” he rasped, hips grinding slow and deep. “Falling apart just from this... taking it so deep and tight.”
Tyler licked the sweat from Josh’s temple, then bit down gently on the shell of his ear.
“You’re such a good boy for me,” he purred. “I could fuck you all night, and you’d just keep moaning for more.”
Josh’s whole body seized, Tyler’s praise doing something illegal in the pit of his stomach. It twisted tight, hot and overwhelming, like his body already knew what was coming.
Tyler smirked, eyes locked on him, knowing exactly what his words were doing.
“Such a good puppy,” he murmured again, thrusting in deep. “So happy to be filled, it’s gonna make you come, isn’t it?”
Josh let out a broken whine.
“Yeah?” Tyler pressed, voice low and rough. “My pup gonna come just from getting fucked?”
Josh’s breath hitched sharply, and then the climax slammed into him, a wave crashing through his core, unstoppable and wild.
He cried out as he came, the intensity of it making his thighs shake, his back arch off the mattress. Hot release spilled across his stomach, streaking his abs and chest, endless and blinding.
Tyler gave a few more hard thrusts, and then he groaned loud and low, slamming in deep and holding, cock pulsing as he spilled inside Josh.
Tyler’s hands braced on Josh’s chest, holding himself up as his orgasm coursed through him in shudders. Then, slowly, he collapsed to the side, catching his breath as he blindly reached up and untied the knot holding Josh’s wrists.
Josh dropped his arms with a relieved groan, muscles aching but blissed out. His whole body felt used, owned, and loved in that fucked-up, wordless way only they could translate.
They lay there in silence for a long time, sticky and spent, heat radiating between their bodies in the aftermath.
Josh was the one who broke it, voice hoarse and breathless. “Damn...”
He exhaled hard, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I should take control more often if it gets me you like this.”
Tyler let out a tired huff, but his eyes slid open just enough to shoot Josh a warning look.
“Maybe next time,” Tyler said, his voice low and slow, “it will be you wearing that gag under your bandana.”
Josh blinked, throat suddenly dry.
“Along with the vibrating plug I got you for Christmas.” Tyler added and smirked lazily, eyes glinting with a dark promise. “Pretty sure I wouldn’t have to call you anything in front of the camera. You’d be a pathetic, whining mess before they even asked the first question.”
Josh’s whole face went scarlet. “Jesus, Ty...”
Tyler rolled his head to the side to face him, smile widening with zero mercy. “Yeah...” he murmured, dragging one finger down Josh’s marked-up chest. “That’s a promise, baby.”