StoriesByTroy

It’s past midnight. The kind of night that makes your thoughts louder. I’m walking the neighborhood loop I’ve done a thousand times, hoodie up, phone buzzing in my pocket. I don’t check it. Probably my mom reminding me to pack some warm clothes, or maybe my best friend Cal sending another funny video that’s supposed to make me laugh. I’m not really in the mood. The sky is clear. No breeze. Not even the usual bark from the neighbor's dog. Just me, sneakers on pavement, and everything I haven

Yeah, I’m moving to the UK. For college. I told everyone it’s because I wanted to explore, to get out of my comfort zone, to try something new. But the truth is a little messier. I fought with my parents. I felt stuck in a version of myself that never really fit. And maybe, deep down, I just wanted to forget him. Luke. The guy I was in love with. Maybe I still am. My pillow definitely knows how much I still cry over him. He took my virginity and then told me we were better off as friends. I

A story about first love, last goodbyes, and everything that still lingers in between. A new city, a new life but somehow, his ghost still follows me. Maybe this time, love won’t leave me behind.

So yeah. I sent Adam a video of me gagging on Chris's cock. Nothing extreme. Okay, maybe his cock was buried deep in my throat. Enough to let Adam know what he was missing. Enough to make him squirm. And maybe, if I was lucky enough to make him finally get off that high horse and come over. I showed the message from Adam to Chris. “Dude,” I grinned. “It worked. He wants to join in..” Chris didn’t even blink. He just looked at me, still half-hard, wiped his lip with his thumb

Thank you for the thoughtful comment and I honestly appreciate the honesty too! I totally understand this dynamic isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. I love exploring complicated characters and messy relationships, even if they aren’t always comfortable or easily understood. And it means a lot that you’re still reading and engaging, even if it’s not your cup of tea. That kind of investment is what keeps me writing.

I’ve really loved reading all the comments and appreciate when people engage with the story. But over the last 3–4 posts, I’ve noticed the narrative tone has become much harsher. As a writer who spends a lot of time planning these arcs and developing characters I care deeply about, it’s disheartening to see the story reduced to harsh labels like calling Dylan a sex villain, abusive or Troy spineless and a sex slave. Troy isn’t trapped; he’s making choices. He’s the one going back and forth between two very different men, trying to understand what kind of love he wants. The story is meant to be messy, passionate, and conflicted. The narrative in some comments is taking the story somewhere it’s not meant to go...reducing complex characters to harsh labels and ignoring the intentional, messy dynamics I’m exploring. It’s important to remember the story’s purpose and not misrepresent it. All encounters are consensual, and the power dynamics are intentional parts of the arc, not oversights. I welcome critique, but I hope we can keep the conversation thoughtful and respectful.

It’s really disheartening to see so many aggressive comments lately. Every post seems to have someone saying Dylan should be thrown off a balcony or that Troy is spineless or addicted. I’ve poured a lot into this story and it’s discouraging to see it reduced to jokes or insults. Troy isn’t trapped. He’s making choices. The tension between Dylan’s dominance and Elliot’s softness is the core of the arc. It’s meant to be messy. That’s the point. I also write other stories like Late Nights with My Hot Boss, which is purely romantic and erotic. But even there, I saw comments about HR complaints, power imbalance, and being used. It feels like a few commenters are determined to find a way to derail any story, no matter the tone or intent. Not every story is for everyone and that’s okay. But if a dynamic doesn’t speak to you, I don’t see the need to tear it down or make it personal.

Fair.. Dylan definitely expresses himself in his own… aggressive way. But honestly, that’s part of what this story is exploring: how love and desire don’t always show up wrapped in neat, healthy packaging. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s confusing. And sometimes the people we can’t quit are the ones who challenge us the most; even if they’re not what everyone else would choose. How about we stop judging fictional characters for their personal sexual choices? Troy isn’t weak for craving dominance, and Dylan isn’t evil for being rough in bed. Not every relationship fits into a neat, romantic mold and that’s the complexity this story is exploring

Some of the comments here are surprising. I totally understand if the story or dynamic isn’t for everyone; this isn’t a typical romance, and that’s intentional. This story explores a consensual dom/sub relationship, and in Season 2, Troy’s beginning to realize he might want something softer too... which is what makes the tension between Dylan and Elliot so central. It’s messy by design. Attraction often is. All encounters are fully consensual. No one is being forced or trapped.

Becca caught Dylan and me earlier this morning, right before he could fuck me on her living room couch. She interrupted everything. But Dylan’s not the type to let something go unfinished. Now I’m standing at his door, already aching, already wet, already thinking about his cock and how obsessed I am with the way he looks at me like I’m his. Because maybe I am. His door opened like he’d been standing right behind it, waiting. Dylan was still in his underwear, the same ones that barely

Before I was done pretending Adam wasn’t watching, I went deep on Chris. Like, really deep. I arched myself lower and lower, spreading my knees wider, tilting my hips so Adam had the perfect view; my ass stretched open, my back curved, and my head bobbing down on Chris’s cock like I was trying to swallow every inch. Because I was. And yeah. I knew Adam was watching. I could feel him through the glass, heat prickling along my skin like a spotlight, but hotter. More desperate. Just

Troy choose to go back. He can make his own decisions. He enjoys the dominance. Dylan is not expressive when it comes to showing his love.

Dylan saw Elliot dropping me off at the apartment earlier this morning. One thing led to another, and five minutes later, his cock was buried down my throat, his fingers twisted in my hair like he owned me. He didn’t even take off my hoodie. Just bent me over the couch, yanked my shorts down, and lined himself up behind me. His cock was thick and slick and pulsing against my hole, the head already leaking, just about to press in..... and that’s when the knock came at the door. “Shit,” I m

Wes stared up at me, sprawled across the mattress, his chest slick with sweat, his cock flushed red and still hard from everything we’d just done. His eyes flicked down to mine—then lower. “You’re serious?” he breathed. “You’re actually gonna... fuck me?” I stepped closer, dragging my palm along his thigh, up to his hipbone. “Unless you’re backing out.” He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Shit. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.” “It’s different,” I said softly, “but it

So yeah Adam told me he was straight. Right after flexing those arms, smirking like a menace, and letting me tease him right through the glass without even blinking. And sure, maybe I said something like Is that a challenge? and he said something cocky back, but let’s be real: the man was flirting. Period. We even exchanged numbers. It was casual. He said something about going for a morning run “You look like a cardio guy,” whatever that means. I said he should hit me up when he’s

Elliot walked me home the next morning. The city was just waking up, sunlight spilling lazy and golden through the trees, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. His curls were damp from a quick rinse, his voice still husky from sleep. I was wearing his hoodie, he’d pulled it over my head before we left, said I looked better in it than he ever had. We didn’t talk much. Just soft glances and light touches, his hand hovering at my lower back, the brush of his knuckles when our arms swung to

Wes knelt behind me, breath shallow, tongue dragging one slow, reverent lick between my cheeks like he was afraid it might be his last. I twitched beneath it. Luca smirked, seated beside us on the bed now, stroking himself slow and idle like he was watching his favorite show. Wes’s hands shook slightly as he slid them along my hips, grounding himself. His cock was flushed red and slick, curved up toward his stomach. And the look on his face—God. Desperate didn’t cover it. This was

So, here's where we are: I moved into my apartment almost two years ago, and everything was normal until today. I spotted my new neighbor across the alley, right out of a magazine. Hot as hell. I watched him unpack, slowly peel off his sweats, and then, yeah, he gave me a full view of himself. He knew I was watching. And just when I thought I’d lost him, he came back from the shower, and we made eye contact. He laughed, like he knew what had just happened. Then he smirked. A small, knowing

The next day felt different. Paris was overcast. Soft light spilled across the Seine. I hadn’t replied to Dylan’s texts. Not the 11 pings from the gym. Not the “fuck, Spaghetti Noodle. i’m hard thinking about your throat.” Not the picture of his cock bulging in compression pants. I let them sit there, unopened. Because tonight, I was walking to Elliot’s studio, the hot french guy I met a few days ago. His message from earlier echoed in my head: Elliot: “Come by at 7. I’l

Luca crooked a finger at Wes. “Come closer,” he said, his voice low, smooth as sin. “Right to the edge.” Wes didn’t move at first. His breath was shallow. Bare chest rising and falling, briefs tented in a way that made it obvious how badly he wanted this—how hard he’d been the whole time. His eyes flicked from me, still bent over on all fours, back to Luca, who hadn’t even broken a sweat. Then Wes stepped forward. “Good,” Luca murmured, eyes heavy-lidded. “Now… just one lick.

I was painting in my room when I saw a hot guy directly across from my window. Literally across. Like, if I leaned forward, we’d probably breathe the same air. He was just moving in boxes, duffel bags, a fan that kept tipping over. I figured he was new to the building. I watched him unpack for a while, not really thinking much of it. Until he leaned back on the bed, peeled off his sweats, and let them fall to the floor. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he stood up… and re

“Oh my god. Dylan?” My voice cracked. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He was standing in front of the building like he hadn’t just dropped out of my spank bank and landed in Paris. Tight blue compression tee. Black mesh shorts. Veins like warnings. “Missed me?” he grinned. “Told you I’d book a flight.” My jaw twitched. “Wait....seriously?” “Trainer gig,” he said, like it was no big deal. “Some influencer brand I’ve been working with. One of the clients is in Paris fo

“Oh,” Luca said, tilting his head, his voice smooth like a poured drink. “So this is the guy you were telling me about?” Wes stood in the doorway, lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His eyes flicked from Luca’s body to mine and back again. Caught somewhere between stunned and turned on. I stepped closer to Wes, keeping my tone light. “Wes, this is Luca. We’ve been hooking up whenever I’m in the city.” I glanced back at Luca. “He’s… talented.” Luca smi

I’ve lived in this apartment for just under two years. First floor, tiny-ass bedroom that doubles as my art studio. The rent’s criminal, the walls are thin, and my window? It looks directly and I mean directly into the building across the alley. Just glass facing glass. A few feet of air between us. If I leaned out far enough, I could probably knock on my neighbor’s window with the end of a paintbrush. But it’s New York. You get used to the lack of privacy. Most people keep their blinds dra

A voyeuristic series set in NYC. Leo can’t stop watching the hot neighbor across the window and one night, the neighbor finally looks back.