Kingdom Of Men - 5. "Fianchetto (Part 2)"

Omar stood up, his silhouette bathed in soft shades of cerulean as moonlight filtered through the attic's skylight. He drifted across to the small table by his bed, where a vintage vinyl record player sat, its needle still, waiting. Andrew watched him, captivated as Omar crouched by the old player, handling it like something precious, almost sacred.

"I found these in the closet a few years ago," Omar murmured, his voice low and distant, as though speaking more to himself than Andrew.

Andrew chuckled softly, attempting to break the quiet intimacy of the moment with a joke. "You know we have CDs now, right?" His voice carried a lightness that felt out of place in the room's quiet, reverent atmosphere.

Omar turned, casting a soft, lopsided grin over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. But there's something about these…" He ran his fingers over the edge of the vinyl almost tenderly. "The way the sound's off. Rugged...like it's flawed but… somehow beautiful because of that."

Andrew felt something tighten in his chest, watching Omar's eyes soften, his fingers moving carefully. There was a yearning in the boy's gaze as he lowered the needle, and soon, the room filled with the warm sound of an old blues song, the melody rolling out like a sigh, weaving around them in the quiet.

(Music playing in the background)
Forever, my darling, our love will be true
Always and forever, I'll love only you
Just promise me darling your love in return
May this fire in my soul, dear, forever burn

For a moment, Andrew almost forgot himself, mesmerized by the music's haunting quality, the way it seemed to reflect every unspoken word, every glance, every touch they'd shared. But then reality snapped him back, and he looked cautiously at the door. "…your parents..."

Omar shrugged, the motion small but resolute. His gaze fell, his voice softening to almost a whisper. "Don't worry about them."

He lowered himself onto the bed's edge, shoulders hunched, fingers splayed across the worn mattress. His head hung low, the shadows cast by the skylight deepening the lines of his face.

"I keep thinking about it," he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath the blues song. "That night… our kiss."

(Music playing in the background)
My heart's at your command, dear
To keep love and to hold
Making you happy is my desire, dear
Keeping you is my goal

Andrew's heart hammered, a warmth flooding through him as he slowly stood, his feet drawing him closer, step by step. "I think about it, too."

Their movements became slow and deliberate, almost like a dance. Omar stood as Andrew reached the bed, and Andrew sat as Omar drifted toward the skylight, his face tipped to the pale light filtering in from above. He moved with an unearthly grace, eyes catching the moonlight, glinting with a softness that Andrew hadn't seen in weeks.

"You're so beautiful," Andrew whispered, barely aware of the words slipping from his lips, his voice heavy with awe.

(music playing in the background)
I'll forever love you
For the rest of my days
I'll never part from you
Or your loving ways
Just promise me darling your love in return
May this fire in my soul, dear, forever burn

Omar's gaze flickered, a faint smile touching his mouth, and the intensity that once defined him seemed to reignite, bit by bit, his cerulean eyes gaining a subtle brightness, like something fragile awakening. "I don't think…my feelings for you are just...friendship."

The world seemed still, his words sinking into the space between them, transforming it and coloring everything in simultaneously new and familiar shades.

Andrew met Omar's gaze, his heart pounding but his voice steady. "I know. I feel the same."

Omar took a deep breath, lifting his face toward Andrew's. His eyes were brighter than they'd been in so long, holding an emotion raw, vulnerable, and no longer afraid. In that fragile, moonlit silence, everything they hadn't been able to say, every tacit sentiment, seemed to pass between them, like an imperishable promise spoken in the spaces between words.

(Music playing in the background)
My heart's at your command, dear
To keep love and to hold
Making you happy is my desire, dear
Loving you is my goal

Andrew's breath caught as he took in the sight before him. The delicate luster of the moon cast Omar in silvery light that softened every edge and smoothed every shadow.

"Take...take your clothes off," Andrew asked, his voice shaky. "I want to see you," he finally beckoned in a quiet, hesitant request as if he feared breaking the spell that had settled over them. But Omar smiled. A small, almost shy smile that lit his eyes with a hint of mischief. Slowly, he peeled away his shirt, the fabric slipping from his shoulders with a gentle whisper.

Andrew's gaze traced every line, every dip, and hollow as Omar's pale skin was revealed, smooth and cool like porcelain. Omar crept, his body unfolding before Andrew's eyes like a delicate secret. His frame had a softness, a slenderness that belied a calm strength. Every breath he took seemed to echo with a quiet resilience, a willpower tempered by hardship yet somehow untouched by it.

Andrew's eyes roamed over the curve of Omar's collarbone, down the gentle slope of his shoulders and arms. He lingered on how his best friend's muscles shifted beneath the skin, subtle but defined, each movement speaking of life and vulnerability, a mixture that felt fragile and impossibly strong at once. When Omar's fingers trailed down to the waistband of his pants, Andrew felt his heart quicken, a warmth rising in his chest that was equal parts awe and reverence.

One by one, Omar's clothes fell away, revealing him. Andrew couldn't look away, his gaze absorbing every detail with an almost worshipful attention. His legs, long and lean, stretched down gracefully, each line an elegant extension of him. The angles and planes of his body formed a kind of symmetry that felt almost too perfect, like something crafted and delicate, made to be admired but never touched. Omar's cock hung between his legs, hardening slowly, the pink tip peeking through his satiny foreskin.

And then there was his face. His dark, unruly hair fell over his forehead in soft waves. His eyes, those intense cerulean eyes. At first, they had looked dull, lost in shadow, as though they held more sorrow than a single look could bear. But as Andrew held his gaze, he saw them begin to change, a flicker of light within them, growing stronger as if something forgotten had been reawakened.

Andrew felt a strange warmth as he watched Omar standing there, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that felt more intimate than any touch could. It was as if he was witnessing something profound and fragile, a beauty that required his presence to thrive, to be whole. Omar's body seemed to drink in the light, every inch illuminated almost perfectly, as though he had been crafted from the moonlight itself.

A faint smile tugged at Omar's lips, his gaze never leaving Andrew's. At that moment, Andrew knew Omar was healing, reclaiming himself piece by piece, and his strength and beauty returned under Andrew's unwavering engagement. It was a sacred transformation, like watching a flower open to sunlight after too long in the dark. Omar was radiant, a brilliance that grew stronger as Andrew's presence wrapped around him, silent and steady.

Omar walked to the bed, sliding his body across the sheets, nestling close to where Andrew sat. And that's when the young stud reached out, his hand gentle as it hovered near Omar's cheek, brushing lightly over his jawline.

Omar closed his eyes at the touch, a soft exhale escaping him. "Your turn," he whispered, eyes narrowing as Andrew's lips responded with a small, shy smile.

His gaze followed Andrew's every movement, eyes unblinking as his friend stepped back from the edge of the bed. Omar lay still, propped on one elbow, as he saw Andrew pulling his shirt. Andrew's fingers moved slowly, deliberately, as though he knew how Omar's attention lingered on every inch of revealed skin.

The shirt slid from Andrew's head, falling to the floor with a whisper, and suddenly, the boy Omar had always known seemed changed, transformed in the soft haze of the attic. Andrew was no longer simply his friend. He was something more, his presence filling the room with a foreign, electrifying intensity. His frame, broader and more solid than Omar's, held a quiet strength that had grown over time, forged in the slow passage of years from boyhood into something more intricate.

Omar's eyes moved over Andrew's chest, watching as the faint, dark fuzz that dusted his skin caught the light. Unlike his smooth, pale skin, Andrew's was textured and rugged, its warmth radiating in the shadows, alive and earthy. His chest rose and fell steadily, a slow rhythm echoing Omar's pulse. And just above his collarbones, at the curve where his neck met his shoulders, the first hint of a beard shadowed his jawline, a reminder that they were leaving behind the traces of youth and entering the uncertain, thrilling edges of manhood.

Andrew's movements were careful and unhurried as he reached for the waistband of his pants, easing them down to the floor, revealing the thick muscles of his legs, sculpted and defined. Omar's gaze traveled down, mesmerized by the dark, rich brown fuzz that peppered Andrew's calves and thighs, building into his groin, where the young stud's 11-inch cock stood proudly, hard and throbbing. Every inch of Andrew seemed to exude a quiet power, a steadiness that grounded him.

It was as though they were seeing each other for the first time through eyes unclouded by childhood innocence, no longer boys but something more. This was Andrew, standing before him, stripped bare of pretense, the one constant in Omar's life who had grown and changed with him, whose presence had been woven into his own being in ways neither had fully understood.

Andrew's gaze found Omar's as he stood there. He crossed the space between them, closing the gap until he stood by the edge of the bed. Their eyes met and held, each seeing themselves reflected in the other. Omar's fingers reached out, tentative at first, then with growing confidence, as he brushed his hand over Andrew's arm, the warmth radiating from him, steady and grounding.

Omar's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with the weight of all he felt. "You're…different. We both are, right?"

Andrew nodded as though he, too, felt the magnitude of this moment, the bittersweet beauty of moving past the simplicity of their childhood bond and into something more intricate, plunging, and irrevocably changed. The memory of boyhood games and whispered secrets lay beneath this, woven into their shared history, but now, they were stepping into something new, a landscape both familiar and unknown, where each touch, each glance held a promise of who they were becoming.

Together.

Andrew lowered himself onto the bed, lying beside Omar. His hand reached out to brush a lock of hair from his friend's forehead, his fingers lingering as he looked at him with a softness that held both wonder and understanding. And at that moment, with the quiet strains of music drifting from the record player, they lay together, caught between past and future, their souls entwined in a timeless, unspoken bond that felt as unavoidable as it was captivating.

(Music playing in the background)
I'll forever love you
For the rest of my days
I'll never part from you
Or your loving ways
Just promise me darling your love in return
May this fire in my soul, dear, forever burn

"Are you nervous?" Andrew questioned, his voice low and lacking any judgment.

"No," Omar whispered. "You?" the blue-eyed angel asked back.

Andrew shook his head slowly, leaning into Omar, his chestnut eyes already locked on his friend's mouth. Omar's arms and legs seemed ready, lacing gently around Andrew as they received his best friend's body, eager to finally hold what they coveted so fiercely around them. Andrew's tongue dove inside Omar's mouth, their lips wrapping together. Unlike last time, Andrew and Omar were taking their time, lingering on each other's flavor and the taste they produced together. The blend was intoxicating.

Andrew moaned, his left hand brushing Omar's body, slowly traversing his friend's smooth, pale skin as it descended toward his hips. Omar's right leg crawled up, lacing Andrew's hip. His foot rested on Andrew's muscular ass, and Omar could feel it flex as Andrew's pelvis pushed into him, his massive cock already rubbing him discreetly. The blue-eyed raven smiled, his heart boiling with gushing joy. And Andrew could feel his friend's lips stretching into a smile as he sucked on them.

Andrew rolled on his back, pulling Omar with him. Their mouths were still locked, and their voices echoed the softest moans. Omar eventually began to pull away, albeit reluctantly.

His hand ran down Andrew's chest, his finger trailing the thick fuzz of growing hair. Andrew was changing. Every inch of him grew in size, power, and strength. And that included his cock. Omar's right hand crossed the trail that went from Andrew's belly button down to his crotch. But halfway there, his slim fingers bumped into the large tip of Andrew's 11-inch cock, which immediately prompted his glance down and his hand to grasp it.

There was a moment when Omar opened his mouth to speak, but he halted. Instead, he looked up at Andrew and threw him a playful smirk, followed by a wink before lunging down.

"What are you...?" Andrew questioned. But it was two seconds too late.

Omar was already diving into Andrew's crotch, plunging his nose into his friend's sack and sniffing it. There was no comment, no reply. That loud inhale was followed by a soft moan before Andrew felt Omar's tongue glaze over the base of his cock. It lingered there, gentle licks before finally sliding up. Andrew's body went stiff, his growing muscles tightening at the feeling. It wasn't so much nervousness but exhilaration. He just couldn't believe Omar's tongue was now skimming up his cock, stopping near the tip of his foreskin before pulling it back, releasing a small pool of precum stored inside. The movement unleashed a potent, musky scent. That unique, one-of-a-kind smell. The scent of Andrew's manhood.

The liquid glid down, a sheer stream, uninterrupted. Omar, whose right hand was still holding Andrew's cock, pulled in and licked it, his tongue waiting there until all of it fell into his mouth. He recoiled and swallowed, looking up at Andrew, who stared back, his jaw slightly dropped.

"Is it...bad?" Andrew asked, his voice slightly cautious.

Omar lingered there, his lips moving ever so slightly as he tasted it. Andrew waited. But Omar did answer. In fact, for a brief moment, his expression was illegible. But only for a moment.

In a heartbeat, the blue-eyed raven pulled up, and in a swift motion, he swallowed the tip of Andrew's cock, the most lustful, husky moan escorting his motion. Andrew's eyes rolled back. The sensation was indescribable as if Omar's mouth was made for his cock. It was warm and silky. "Fuck..." the young stud faltered as Omar began to move his head up and down.

Andrew could feel his friend's reluctance to delve too deep. Omar was exploring slowly and gently. His tongue lay flat at first, unsure of what to do as his plump lips worked alone. The precum still glinting to the massive shaft was easing their work. Soon, however, Omar got a taste for it and finally dove deeper. A choking sound immediately broke from his mouth.

"You okay?" Andrew questioned.

"Mhmm," Omar replied, nodding his head hastily. His eyes darted back to Andrew's cock. He wasn't just okay. He was getting desirous.

The blue-eyed raven lunged again, sliding his tongue further out and making small moves, shifting it from side to side, causing it to brush over Andrew's gland. The young stud's body shivered again, but it didn't stop this time. And neither did Omar as he breathed through his nose, trying to hold steady. But it was clear Andrew's cock wasn't something to be toyed with. It was something to worship. Slowly, cautiously. It wasn't long before Omar pulled back again, coughing, breathless. He looked up, and their eyes met. Omar was smirking, the kind he displayed when something went his way. Andrew couldn't help but chuckle back, his hands covering his face adorably. This seemed to entice Omar, whose body shot up, falling on his knees, his plump ass sticking up in the air. Andrew couldn't help but peek through his fingers, watching his friend's beautiful frame lit by the moonlight.

Omar started kissing the tip of Andrew's dick, sucking on it as he wiggled his tongue.

"Oh, shit...dude," Andrew reacted, pulling his hands back as he looked down, mesmerized by Omar's blue eyes looking up at him as he did it.

"You like that?" The blue-eyed angel teased, wrapping his lips around the tip.

Andrew nodded rapidly, signaling Omar to continue. He kept teasing, sucking at the tip, but the more he did it, the more he felt compelled to dive deeper. He pushed through, trying to close his lips around Andrew's girth, and inch by inch, he succeeded in taking an extra couple into his mouth without gagging.

But, sure enough, it happened again, and he pulled back, coughing and chuckling as he did. "Jesus Christ, dude. I can't..." he admitted as he stroked Andrew. But the sound of the young stud's sharp voice cut through their ludic moment.

"Turn around," Andrew groaned. "I wanna eat your ass," he whispered, sounding more like an order. Omar's lips quirked, his cerulean eyes glinting.

He pulled up, his raven hair bouncing with him. "How do you want me...?" he questioned, but Andrew wasn't wasting time. His hands grabbed Omar's foot, and he tossed one leg over his body, forcing the pale beauty's head to face the foot of the bed.

"Like this," Andrew grunted, his sight now locked on Omar's ass, hanging inches from his face. He could feel the heat emanating, a tangy, musky scent mixed with sweat curling up his nostrils. Andrew smirked seconds before his hands grabbed Omar's cheeks, spreading them. The sphincter hidden underneath was equally exquisite. Pink, smooth, untapped, perfect. Andrew leaned his neck forward, tongue gliding right into his best friend's hole.

As soon as he did, Omar's lips popped open. "Oh..." he voiced, his tone layered with a welcoming surprise. And he hardly had time to add anything else, as Andrew's tongue wasted no time circling Omar's taint like a serpent.

Omar's head fell, his face diving inside Andrew's thick pubes as he moaned and whimpered. His tone was feline, feminine even, as he gradually arched his back, easing his tight spot into Andrew's mouth. Soon, Andrew's hands slid under Omar's legs, grabbing his inner thighs as he pulled his friend's body towards him.

"Oh, fuck..." Omar whispered, holding Andrew's throbbing cock in his hand like a trophy while his best friend's mouth finally began munching on his hole.

Every part of Andrew's mouth and tongue was now glued to Omar's soft skin, his tongue slowly testing the closed entrance. He could feel Omar's body tightening, a faint resistance threshold lingering. Andrew instinctively pulled back, spitting into his friend's spot. Omar reacted, quivering before Andrew's right hand slid up, and he smudged his spit around the sphincter using his finger. A strange chuckle broke from Omar's lips seconds before Andrew skated the finger inside.

A sharp discomfort rushed through Omar's body, propelling him forward. But this time, Andrew was ready, his left arm preventing his friend from running off.

"Dude..." Omar stammered.

"Shhh...relax," Andrew replied, planting a kiss on Omar's cheek, nibbling it gently with his teeth as if sending his lover a signal. And it worked. Andrew felt Omar's hole open slowly, allowing his finger to dive in. Andrew grew confident and pushed it all the way inside, feeling the warmth surrounding it. As it reached the base, he felt Omar's walls finally close around it, the heat building. It was marvelous. The feeling of Omar's insides wrapped around his finger. Andrew's chest expanded, exploding in a rush of euphoria. "Fuck, look at that," he commented in awe.

Omar's hole was now puckering, slowly unraveling to this new feeling. Sensing this, Andrew pulled his finger out, enough to elicit a gentle gasp from his friend, only to push it back in. Then again, and again. Faster each time. Each push came with a unique sound, and Omar's voice deepened, his body surrendering finally. Andrew couldn't see, but he felt when the blue-eyed raven's lips returned to his cock, wrapping around it. And as Andrew's finger swirled around, Omar's lips sucked on his cock.

They lingered in this dance of mutual satisfaction, the last few walls that separated their young, innocent bodies crumbling down, allowing a heightened version to break through. It felt glorious as the slurping sounds of Omar's mouth sucking on Andrew's cock reverberated through the room, fusing with Andrew's groans of satisfaction as he opened Omar's body. It went on for several minutes, with Andrew switching between sliding his finger and darting his tongue into Omar's now eager gap. He was so overwhelmed by the pleasant feeling that he overlooked the significant strides Omar was making. Until he felt a whiff of his friend's breath touch his groin.

"No way..." Andrew chuckled.

But the truth was literally wrapped around his cock. Omar had swallowed at least half of his massive size. But it seemed that was as far as he'd go as Andrew felt him pull back, a loud gasp erupting with the motion.

"Fuck, that's big," Omar razzed, his breath sharp and accelerated. He lofted himself, hands pushing Andrew's tights down. But the movement inadvertently caused his ass to push against Andrew's face. Omar's instinct propelled him to pull up. But as soon as he did, Andrew's hands locked his thighs in place. Omar felt his friend's tongue slide inside him, and it felt amazing. "Oh my God..." he exclaimed, his neck snapping back, blue eyes suddenly locked on the ceiling.

Andrew's beard brushed the outer layers of his cheeks, their surface reddening. But inside, his smooth tongue worked effortlessly to induce the greatest pleasure Omar had felt yet. Soothing yet raw at the same time. It wasn't long before Omar's hips were moving back and forth, his ass grinding Andrew's face, whose muffled groans rose from under it. Omar's hand couldn't help but go for Andrew's cock, its tip still pointing toward the ceiling. Omar's hand inadvertently drove Andrew over the edge as he rode the young stud's face.

The young stud felt the wave building but could hardly do anything, let alone say anything. Buried underneath Omar's ass, he was powerless, his eyes rolling slowly back, a white layer glazing over them.

The first strings shot, causing Omar's jaw to drop down, surprised. "Wow," he blurted, hips stopping suddenly. With each new string of thick cum he could feel Andrew's cock swell inside his hand, small twitching motions following it. They shot up and through the air, landing in puddles over Omar's own hard 7-inch dick, drenching his bush of soft pubes. The load seemed unending, Andrew's tongue still squeezed inside Omar's entrance, his arms holding onto Omar's hips for dear life. And it must have been at least a whole minute before he felt Andrew's body finally stop, the jerking motions gradually easing to a pause.

Omar turned his head back, forcing his ass to detach from Andrew's face. "I didn't mean to do that..." he whispered, chuckling. He lifted his body and hoisted one leg turning to face Andrew straight on before letting his now damp and overly moist ass land over his friend's hips. "Are you...?" he meant to ask. But as soon as he looked at Andrew, he stopped. His best friend was looking right back at him, his face flushed red, eyes squinting, and the most satisfied grin on his face.

And that's when it happened. Omar chuckled. Then he laughed, prompting Andrew to laugh with him. But then he stopped. His face growing serious. Way serious.

"What's wrong?" Andrew questioned, his voice still shaky.

"Nothing..." Omar replied, the usual huskyness in his voice even more pronounced.

He lingered there, slowly rocking his body back and forth. The movement was subtle, almost unnoticeable. His right hand came down, and with his finger, he scooped a chunk of Andrew's cum from his own cock and took it to his mouth, swallowing it. He did it slowly. Purposely slowly, it seemed, closing his eyes as the cum went through his throat and opening his eyes as the finger slid out, his cerulean gaze brighter than ever before. Then, he did it again. But this time, Omar scooped the cum and brought his arm back, layering it over Andrew's cock. He smiled.

"You're still rock hard," he whispered as he rubbed Andrew's cum over his dick. He pushed his left hand against Andrew's broad chest, nudging his ass back as he tilted Andrew's tip towards his gap.

"What are you doing?" Andrew questioned.

"I wanna put it in," Omar said, already rubbing the bloated mushroom tip against his pink, delicate, virgin crevice. Andrew's hand flew forward, clutching Omar's left wrist.

"I...I don't wanna hurt..." Andrew breathed out, soft and caring.

"You won't," Omar replied. I...I want to," he whispered. And that's when Andrew saw the glimmer rising in Omar's eyes. His friend was getting emotional, but it didn't stem from sadness. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Omar was happy. "I...I wanna have you inside me, Andrew.

There they were. These were the words Andrew had hoped to hear. And yet, something felt off. Misplaced. And that's when it hit him. The young hunk stretched his arm, grabbed Omar's neck, and pulled his lover in, kissing his mouth passionately. He could feel the salt from Omar's tears in his mouth mixed with his own cum. And as they pulled apart, their mouths hovering less than an inch apart, Andrew's voice spoke.

"Don't call me Andrew..." he requested, passing as their breaths mingled in that tight space. "Not Andrew," he said, his voice almost a plea. "Call me..." he proposed before the feeling of Omar's hole pushing into his cock cut his voice like a sharp knife, replaced by the raven-haired beauty's husky whisper.

"Bishop."

The sound of it felt right. True. Like Andrew had never existed. It was as if Omar's voice had just birthed a new being. The one Andrew was always meant to be. Perhaps the one he always was.

"Oh fuck, oh shit..." Andrew moaned as he felt Omar's hole stretch around his cock, the soft walls widening to his girth. It was barely in, and the feeling was already overwhelming. He looked up, fascinated by Omar's expressions as they shifted, a guide map for Andrew to follow as he navigated his best friend's anal virginity.

He began moving his hips in a circular motion, slowly, gently. Omar's walls expanded, and he could feel his tip nudging further with each movement. And in the raven prince's face, every inch was being carved: the closing of the eyes, the gentle bites on the lower lip, the faint moans, and the deep breaths.

"You're so tight..." Andrew whispered, his hands gripping Omar's hips. "It feels so good," he added, his thrusts getting quicker and more confident.

Omar screeched, his whole body tightening to a pause before collapsing over Andrew, his face falling into his lover's neck. "Fuck, Bishop...it's so big," the blue-eyed raven whispered, his breath hot against Andrew's skin.

"Do you...want me to pull out," Andrew questioned as his hips continued to push his cock further in.

There was a brief silence, with only Omar's whimpers filling the space between them. Then, he began mumbling something that was causing a jolt of electricity to course through Andrew's body. And soon, from under the soft sound of his hole being opened, Omar's words finally pushed through.

"Don't...don't you dare," he stammered. "Keep...fucking me," he begged.

And so, Andrew did.

Like a whip on the back of a horse, Andrew's pelvis shot forward, trotting gallantly. And this time, it didn't stop. Yet, he was careful, keeping the thrusts controlled and precise, sliding just enough of his cock to allow Omar to slowly accommodate it, building his lover's pain threshold with each entry.

"Bishop, Bishop..." Omar moaned. "My Bishop," he continued.

The mere sound of Omar's voice was becoming too much. And at their young age, what more could be expected?

"I...can't...hold it," Andrew warned before he began blasting another load inside Omar's ass, whose hole clenched around the six inches of cock he managed to slide inside.

"I can feel it," Omar replied, slowly lifting his head and gazing at Andrew's face. His mouth was opened, and his eyes were shivering. "Holy shit, I can feel it in me."

They lingered there, bodies wrapped into each other, until Andrew's load drilled the last drop. And then, Omar pulled his ass up, forcing the massive shaft to pop out, escorted by a soft queefing sound.

"Fuuuuck," Omar wailed before collapsing sideways, his hand going for his hole as if worried it had ripped. "Shit, dude...damn," he moaned.

Andrew followed his movement, rolling upright and spreading Omar's cheeks with his hands. "Let me see," he whispered, glancing at the quivering hole, intact yet slightly bloated and puckering uncontrollably as if endeavoring to close. He could see his own cum oozing out. It was stunning. Andrew leaned and kissed Omar's cheek, slapping it playfully as he pulled back, his cock still hard. "Wanna go again?" he teased, even though he seriously meant it.

"Dude, I need a break..." Omar mumbled, his head buried inside a pillow. He lifted his neck, glancing back at Andrew's still-hard cock. "For fuck sake," he muttered, looking at his lover, then back at the beast. He slid over the bed, pushing Andrew's chest and forcing the young stud on his back. Then, he pulled Andrew's dick towards his mouth and swallowed it, sucking it slowly. It was still wet and reeking of his own sweet insides.

Andrew's head fell back on the pillow, smiling. "I can't believe they didn't hear any of that downstairs," he uttered, chuckling at the sweet sensation of Omar's tongue teasing his gland again. "Fucking junkies...they don't deserve you," he stated.

"Stop talking about them...I'm trying to suck your dick," Omar joked as he pulled his mouth out.

"Fine," Andrew conceded, pausing as his hand reached for Omar's smooth hips. His chestnut eyes brushed his friend's body, from the tip of his raven hair to the tip of his toes, which dangled elegantly over the edge of the bed. "You're so fucking beautiful," he stated, his words fueled by reverence and awe.

Omar chuckled nervously, his face diving inside Andrew's stomach, rolling upwards until their eyes met again. When they did, like magnets, they lunged at each other, their mouths locking again. It seemed painful at this point, for both of them, whenever their lips were apart for too long.

Slowly, their bodies began to lace again. Omar rolled over, his smooth, pale peach teasing Andrew, who climbed over him, using his tight hand to aim his cock at Omar's entrance. He squeezed the tip between his lover's cheeks, feeling the hole open to him again.

"Dude, I'm still sore as fuck...I...ooohhh shiiit," Omar whined, his husky voice dragging as his surprise turned into pleasure. "Bishop...you're..." he stuttered before Andrew pushed all of him inside. His weight forced Omar's body down, squishing it under him. The blue-eyed raven arm came around, his fingers clutching Andrew's thick hair. "Oh my God," he whispered, his voice dying mid-sentence.

"I knew it. I knew you could take it," Andrew whispered back before he began plowing Omar's hole. The boy's whimpers and wails echoed inside that room like a siren's song, hypnotic, irresistible, and mystical.

That night, Andrew and Omar made love to each other five more times. With the stamina, only two seventeen-year-old boys could conjure.

And each new expedition was grander than the one before, uncovering a depth of intimacy that neither would ever escape. Or want to.

(Hours later)

The room and their bare bodies were bathed in moonlight. A quiet, ethereal glow. The only sound was their gentle breathing, the soft rhythm of two people who had crossed a threshold. Omar lay on his stomach, his arms loosely tucked beneath his head, his face turned slightly away as he surrendered to the warmth of Andrew's presence beside him.

Andrew rested his head beside Omar's, his lips barely grazing his friend's shoulder. There was a reverence in his touch, a kind of worship born from some deep, hidden place where everything he felt for Omar had only grown over the years, waiting for this moment to be disclosed. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of Omar's shoulder, then lower, allowing each kiss to linger. Pouring into his lover all the words he couldn't yet say, a language of touch and tenderness he was only beginning to understand.

"Does this feel good?" Andrew's voice was soft, a whisper barely above the quiet whirr of the world around them.

Omar didn't answer with words. He simply nodded, the shiver in his body speaking volumes, his back arching ever so slightly into his lover's touch. Andrew could feel Omar's trust, the quiet surrender of a person who had finally found a safe place to lay down their burdens, resting in the silence of a night made just for them.

They lay there, caught in this rare, fragile intimacy. After a long silence, Omar spoke, his voice low and heavy, with something Andrew couldn't quite place. "You should take the scholarship."

The words hung like a fragile, bittersweet psalm, breaking the spell. Andrew stilled, his lips paused against the soft curve of Omar's spine. He didn't respond immediately, searching for the right words to hold the weight of everything Omar said. "I won't leave you here," he murmured, the conviction in his voice as steady as a heartbeat.

Omar, face half-buried in his arms, couldn't help but smile, though Andrew couldn't see it. He closed his eyes, the hint of a tear catching on his lashes, and he took a deep breath. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll visit. Seriously, it's like a two-hour drive."

Andrew's hand traced the soft line of Omar's spine, moving upwards until he was close enough to brush his lips against his neck. He smiled, breaking the tension. "How am I supposed to concentrate on college if you're gonna be there all the time?" he whispered, a soft chuckle escaping him as he felt the gentle shake of Omar's body in response.

Omar rolled over, his eyes holding that familiar mischievous glint that Andrew loved so much. They looked at each other, the world shrinking, the air loaded with something pure, raw, and eternal. Omar raised a hand, tracing the line of Andrew's cheek, his fingers trembling with a mixture of love and fear. His voice was barely audible, vulnerable in a way it had never been. "I love you."

There was a tremor in his voice, the quiet plea of a person who had known loneliness far too long, who had felt the weight of the world pressing in on him and feared that even now, this might slip away like a dream.

Andrew's eyes softened. His hand found Omar's, and their fingers intertwined. He pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together as he whispered, "I love you too. We'll always be together."

They kissed slowly and unhurriedly, melding everything they were and everything they would become. When they finally broke apart, they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies fitting together, two halves of a single whole.

*

(One year later)

The chessboard lay between them, pieces scattered in a tense and almost chaotic formation. They had been playing for nearly an hour, yet each game dissolved into bursts of laughter and banter, their voices overlapping as they challenged each other's moves. The small, modest dorm room seemed alive with the energy of their game, the stakes, if there were any, lost in the comfort they had acquired. Andrew reclined in his chair, watching Omar's fingers hover indecisively over his pieces before he finally pushed a bishop forward.

Andrew raised a brow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You know, you never use the knight," he observed, voice colored with teasing curiosity.

Omar shrugged, leaning back with a somewhat self-assured and carefree smirk. "Why do I need a knight if I have a bishop?" he replied, his gaze shifting to Andrew, carrying a glint of mischief. There was something in those words, a kind of loyalty to his own quirks, his refusal to play by anyone's rules but his own.

Andrew chuckled, shaking his head, "Figures," he paused, tapping his chin before pushing back his chair. "I'm starving. Let's grab something to eat."

They left the dorm, blending into the campus life as they strolled through the garden, passing clusters of students chatting or lounging on the sunlit grass. Andrew walked confidently, having grown into his tall, striking frame, his features set with a natural charm that seemed to draw eyes without him trying. But it was Omar who held people in thrall. He had a fluid, elusive, yet bold beauty, an aura that seemed to defy labels, a rare elegance that only deepened with time. His presence was magnetic, yet light, as if he moved to a rhythm only he could hear.

In the cafeteria, they grabbed trays and joined the line as the woman at the counter looked expectantly at Omar. "ID, please?"

Omar gave her a nonchalant smile, his tone matter-of-fact. "I don't go here," he said, as though it were the most straightforward answer in the world. Then he turned to leave, tray still in hand.

Andrew could feel the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He quickly slid his university ID across the counter, managing an apologetic smile. "I'll pay for his," he said.

The woman sighed, a little amused, handing back his card as he hurried after Omar, standing a few paces away, his eyes fixed intently on someone across the cafeteria. Andrew followed his gaze and spotted a lone figure, a young man with golden-blond hair, at a distant table, seemingly oblivious to the world around him as he read from a worn book. His face was delicate, almost angelic, cast in soft focus by the warm light filtering through the high windows. His solitude was magnetic, making the rest of the cafeteria fade around him.

Andrew approached Omar, his voice softened by curiosity. "What are you plotting?"

But before he could get an answer, Omar's gaze sharpened, and he straightened, the corner of his lips pulling into a smirk. "Come on," he whispered, setting off towards the blonde's table with a kind of reckless glee that was distinctly his.

Andrew barely had time to react as he jogged to keep up with Omar, who had already closed half the distance. It was the kind of audacious move that Andrew usually shied away from, but with Omar beside him, he felt a strange boldness as though Omar's fearlessness were a current he could tap into.

Omar stopped just in front of the blonde's table, placing his tray down with a casual confidence that immediately drew the young man's attention. The blonde looked up, startled, his soft, light golden eyes widening slightly as he took in the strangers before him.

Omar flashed a charming smile that was both disarming and mysteriously genuine. "Would you mind if we joined you?"

There was a heartbeat of silence, the young man blinking, clearly caught off guard. But after a moment, he gestured to the empty seats with a slight shrug, a hint of curiosity flickering in his gaze. "Uh…sure, I guess."

Andrew set his tray across from the blonde, feeling an unexpected thrill. The young man seemed shy, his gaze darting briefly between Andrew and Omar, like someone not used to being approached. Something was intriguing about his quiet, introspective presence, though.

Omar leaned forward. "So, whatcha reading?" he asked, his voice softening just enough to make the question feel personal, as though he were genuinely interested in peeling back the layers of the stranger's thoughts.

The blonde hesitated, glancing down at the book in his hands. He seemed to choose his words carefully. "It's…well, it's...Plato's Symposium."

"What's it about?" Omar questioned, eliciting a soft chuckle from Andrew's brilliant and knowing mind.

The blonde threw Andrew a look before shifting back to Omar. "It's...about love. Different kinds of love."

Andrew glanced at Omar. "Love, huh?" he repeated, his voice tinged with playful curiosity. He leaned back, studying the blonde more intently.

The blonde managed a shy smile, his eyes briefly meeting Andrew's before flitting back to his book. "Yeah. It's…a bit complicated, but it's kind of beautiful. How people see love differently, I mean."

Omar tilted his head, his gaze softening as though he saw something in the young man that Andrew hadn't yet grasped. "Beautiful and flawed," he murmured. "I get that," Omar added, pausing, his head tilted, eyes narrowing on the young man. "So," Omar said, his voice smooth as he leaned his arms against the table. "What's your name?"

The blonde paused, seemingly weighing the question. Then, in a voice as soft and steady as a whisper against a still lake, he replied, "River."

Omar's lips quirked up, a teasing gleam dancing in his gaze. "Like the actor," he mused, clearly entertained.

River's face flickered with a hint of irritation, his brow furrowing as though he'd heard that line too many times before. He gave a subtle shrug, his fingers flipping the corner of the page he'd been reading, a silent gesture that read 'yes, yes, the name, the actor, the inevitable comparisons. I know.'

For a second, River's reticence made Andrew wonder if the conversation would die right there. But Omar seemed unphased. He saw something in the quiet strength beneath River's silence, even as he kept his words few. Omar leaned in a little more, undeterred.

"Kind of a heavy read for a lunch break, wouldn't you say?" Omar continued, his voice softening in that way he always used when coaxing something out of someone.

River's lips quirked slightly at the corners, though his voice was quiet and controlled. "I like it," he said simply, shrugging. "I like understanding how other people think. How their minds work."

Omar nodded, meeting River's gaze with a warm curiosity, encouraging him without pushing too hard. "You're into the whole…layers of the human psyche thing, then?" he asked with genuine interest. An invitation for River to pull back the curtain a little.

A flicker of a smile passed across the blonde beauty's face, and for a brief moment, Andrew thought he'd caught the faintest sparkle in those golden eyes. "You could say that," River replied. His gaze softened, some of the guardedness easing as if Omar had managed to sneak past a carefully maintained barrier.

Andrew, meanwhile, watched this exchange, half-entertained, half-fascinated. He recognized that glint in Omar's eye, the glimmer of perseverance and interest that often surfaced whenever Omar was drawn to something new, something unique. And it was abundantly clear that River was one of such "things.

Then, without warning, Omar's gaze shifted to Andrew, a mischievous sparkle flaring in his eyes. He knew exactly what was coming next.

Before Andrew could utter a word, Omar turned back to River, his smile widening with easy confidence. "Hey, why don't you come back to our dorm?" he asked, his tone warm and inviting, as if the question had been the most natural progression. "I have some music that I'm sure that Plato guy would love."

Andrew's mouth opened, a faint protest forming on his lips, but Omar smiled at River, who raised an eyebrow, that guarded look flaring back for a moment. The silence stretched, River's golden gaze sliding between Omar and Andrew as he considered the invitation. It was impossible to tell what he would say for a heartbeat, his expression indistinct, a silent dance of thought flickering in his eyes.

But then, he inclined his head, lips parting in a small, knowing smile that seemed to convey more than his words ever could.

"Sure," he murmured, a single syllable that swore he was just as intrigued by them as they were by him. River glanced at his watch, a pause as his eyes flickered slowly in thought. Omar and Andrew were utterly transfixed. And then, out of nowhere, the blonde's calm and collected voice spoke. "But if I'm gonna suck both of you, we should go now. I have a class in about an hour."

A sharp, nervous giggle broke from Andrew's mouth before he peeked at Omar, his cerulean gaze barred onto River. Seconds later, his head turned, the most elated smirk pulling the edges of his lips apart as he gaped at Andrew. "Can we keep him?"

*

(2 years later)

The three stood behind the long line of recruits, a cacophony of boots scuffing and nervous chatter as Fort Bragg's morning sun poured down on them. Today was the day they'd talked about for months: enlistment. And while none of them had said it out loud, the real draw wasn't the allure of military life but an excuse to remain together.

Omar leaned against a wall, arms crossed and looking deceptively at ease. Andrew, meanwhile, was deep in discussion with River about some dense philosophical assertion he'd recently read, gesturing animatedly. In his quiet way, River listened intently, nodding occasionally, his calm presence like a steady beat between Andrew's excited riffs.

"Dude, think about it," Andrew said, voice pitched with the eagerness of someone who'd found his favorite topic. "The idea of the individual in society. Men specifically? How we're all forced into these roles?"

River's smile was faint, indulgent. "Are you saying you're enlisting to escape social pressure?" he teased, eyes glinting. "Because I hate to break it to you, Bishop, but I think you're signing up for the most regimented structure of them all."

Andrew squinted, clapping River on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you two will keep me drained. I mean...sane," he added with a wink. "Plus," he said mischievously, "maybe I can teach some of the sergeants a thing or two about existential dread."

Omar chuckled, half-listening to them, though his mind was entirely elsewhere.

Just a few feet ahead of them stood a guy who was impossible to miss. He towered at 6'1", broad-shouldered, with muscles straining against his shirt sleeves like he'd been carved from stone. His dark hair was cut close, his jawline sharp, and his eyes focused straight ahead as he listened to the officer checking him in.

"Tanner Wahlberg," he announced, his voice carrying a subtle bass that resonated in the open air, adding to the sense of power he carried so effortlessly. He was twenty-one, Omar overheard, and he looked every inch the part of someone who could handle whatever the military threw at him.

The blue-eyed raven's gaze lingered, drawn to the cut of Tanner's shoulders, and his uniform seemed to cling to every muscle line. There was a subtle ease in how he stood, confident, but not in the way that craved attention. Omar took it in, every detail like a line in a picture only he could see: the rugged jawline, the less-than-subtle intensity in Tanner's eyes, the way he didn't fidget like so many others in the line.

"Hey," Andrew's voice interrupted his focus, jolting him back. He blinked, looking over. "What?" Andrew asked, brow raised, a curious smile pulling at his lips.

Omar shrugged, throwing one last glance at Tanner before smirking, a touch cryptic. "Nothing."

As the line moved slowly forward, they chatted on, Andrew picking up his conversation with River, Omar's mind half on the banter and half on that tall, quiet figure ahead of them.

(Two days later)

The scorching sun hinged mercilessly over the base as the new recruits charged through the first day of drills. Omar, Andrew, and River moved in unison with the rest, muscles tense, breath heaving, as their instructor commanded. They pushed through the heat and dust, synchronized and focused.

They started with calisthenics: sets of jumping jacks, push-ups, squats, and an almost unending series of pull-ups beneath the steel bars. Tall and muscular, Andrew surged ahead naturally, every lift steady, as though he were built for it. Omar followed closely, a glint of determination in his cerulean eyes as he pushed his leaner frame to keep up. River's athletic build strained yet still matched their pace, his grit and focus etched on his mud-streaked face.

When they finally reached the endurance course, a blend of grit and strategy took over. Ahead of them stood the towering obstacle wall, lined with a heavy net and dropping into a vast mud pit below. They saw Tanner halfway up the wall, his frame like a pillar against the sky as he ascended, every movement powerful yet controlled. Omar exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Andrew, who grinned and nodded, silently determined to keep up with Tanner's impressive lead.

Climbing the barricade, their hands grasped the net with strain. They scrambled up the last few feet and, without hesitation, launched themselves off the edge. Together, Omar and Andrew dropped into the muddy pool below, the impact covering them from head to toe. As they surfaced, Andrew reached out, grabbing Omar by the arm to steady him. He shot his lover an encouraging grin, then, with both their eyes set on the finish line, hauled him forward through the thick, viscous sludge.

But a shout rang out behind them, breaking their focus. Andrew twisted his head to look back. River was caught, one foot tangled in the net near the top of the wall. His face was a mixture of frustration and pain as he struggled to free himself, his grip slipping. But inevitably, his fingers lost hold, and he plummeted, crashing into the mud with a harsh thud. In the thick of the mud, River lay still, fists clenched, eyes cast down. An uncharacteristic frustration surged in his chest, only intensified by the sight of the other recruits rushing past him, the finish line seeming miles away.

But suddenly, as he struggled to lift himself, a figure approached slowly. River looked up, the sun completely blotted by a tall, muscular frame.

"C'mon," the voice urged, quiet but firm.

River's eyes blinked, adjusting in time to catch Tanner's hand stretched toward him.

The blonde reached up without hesitation, and Tanner's grip closed around his hand. With a single powerful pull, Tanner lifted him, yanking River up as though he weighed nothing. He stumbled slightly, his body heavy from the sluch, but managed to find his footing, his ankle sore yet willing as his arm instinctively wrapped around Tanner's broad shoulder.

The two moved in a lopsided rhythm, River's weight half-leaned against the tall hunk, the mud caked on both of them like a second skin. But as they neared the finish line, from beneath the streaks of dirt and grit, River's face broke into a wide, exhausted grin, his teeth gleaming in a rare moment of elation. On the other end of the finish line, Omar and Andrew caught sight of the two, and a knowing smile passed between the lovers as they watched River, usually quiet and self-contained, arriving with that determined fire in his eyes, his arm clinging to the Hulk beside him.

An hour later, the packed canteen was a bluster of voices, laughter, and the steady clang of metal trays. Omar, Andrew, and River sat at their usual spot, crowded at the edge of a long table. River was partially absorbed in his book, Andrew picked at his food, and Omar's eyes, as usual, pierced through the room, scanning beyond what others could see. Things felt relatively undisturbed until a sudden shift in the energy around them pulled Andrew's attention to something Omar was already locked on.

Toward the back of the hall, a commotion was brewing. A group of four large young men, unmistakably rednecks by their twang and swagger, had surrounded a skinny, nervous recruit, each of their jeers louder and more vicious. The kid flinched at every shove, his eyes darting around for help, but the canteen watched, hesitant and uncomfortable, unsure whether to intervene or add to the mockery. Omar and Andrew exchanged glances, their expressions hardening as the bullying escalated.

Then, as the tallest bully yanked the recruit's collar, a resonant and unyielding voice boomed through the room. "Hey!"

Heads turned, and Tanner emerged, his tall, muscled frame imposing and immovable as a statue. He stepped forward, his gaze cutting like a knife as he stared down the four rednecks. The hall went quiet, everyone holding their breath as the tall hunk approached the scene. His voice was low but threatening. "You want to take this outside?" he challenged, his tone daring the bullies to make a move.

The rednecks turned, sizing him up, emboldened by their numbers. Their leader, a stocky guy with a crude smirk, sneered and shoved Tanner. A collective giggle washed the room like a gush of wind. Tanner's body didn't budge an inch. It was like he was rooted to the ground, solid as stone. His eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flickered in his gaze.

Omar climbed atop one of the long tables from the other side of the room, crossing his arms as he watched with a bemused grin. "Guy's built like a fucking brick…" he murmured, glancing down at Andrew, who watched with amusement, and River, who hadn't yet lifted his gaze from his book, seemingly unfazed.

The standoff continued to escalate. Insults flew back and forth, the tension building as the rednecks squared off against Tanner. And then, suddenly, one of them lunged. Tanner sidestepped gracefully, delivering a quick, sharp blow to the guy's chest, sending him sprawling back into a table. It was as though a fuse had been lit as the other rednecks rushed at Tanner all at once, fists flying and voices raised.

What followed was nothing short of mesmerizing. Tanner moved with fierce, controlled power, each swing and deflection perfectly timed, his burly frame a force of nature that absorbed their blows without flinching. With primal strength, he hurled one redneck over a table, his body hitting the ground with a deafening thud, while another came at him from the side, only to be met with a powerful elbow strike that sent him staggering. The entire hall erupted in cheers and roars, the crowd caught up in the spectacle of Tanner single-handedly taking down the squad of scamps.

Andrew and Omar joined in the cheers, the thrill of the scene filling the air with raw excitement. But at last, intrigued, River lifted his gaze from his book, his golden eyes catching glimpses of Tanner through the crowd. He saw the hunk move like a warrior, his body taut with adrenaline, face fierce, jaw clenched as he unleashed blow after blow.

And for a moment, as the crowd pressed forward, River's eyes narrowed, his lips curving, a flash of something rare lighting up his usually reserved gaze. He watched, unblinking, his golden eyes glinting with interest, before he finally returned to his book.

Hours later, the shower room echoed with the hiss of hot water and the playful voices of Andrew and Omar, taunting River with half-muffled laughter. Though still aching from his stumble earlier, River didn't seem bothered, merely shaking his head with an amused smirk at their banter, a quiet yet resilient presence among their louder teasing. His ankle throbbed occasionally, and a wince crossed his face every time he shifted his weight, only noticeable to those paying close attention. Gradually, the showers cleared, leaving only the three of them. But suddenly, the door creaked open, and they all turned.

Tanner strode in, unbothered by the quiet attention that his presence commanded. He nodded briefly as he walked past the boys and tapped the showerhead beside River, pulling his towel off his waist. His gaze drifted casually toward them as he adjusted the water, an eyebrow quirking slightly.

Omar shot Andrew a subtle glance, his instinct kicking in, and Andrew, understanding immediately, shifted over to allow Tanner room beside River. Tanner offered a quiet nod of thanks and began to wash the grit and grime from his naked body, though his eyes flicked toward River. The blonde, perhaps noticing or possibly pretending not to, continued washing.

The water coursed over River's toned frame, tracing the curves of his defined muscles from his shoulders down to his waist. His smooth skin, unmarred except for the bruise on his cheek and a faint cut near his cheek, glowed against the mud-stained water pooling at his feet. His blonde hair, plastered to his forehead and slicked back in places, gave him an ethereal, almost otherworldly allure. And though he appeared soft-spoken, something in his gaze and the confident tilt of his chin suggested he was anything but fragile.

Breaking the silence, Tanner finally turned to River. His deep voice, usually authoritative, softened as he asked, "Better?" the question was casual, but there was a trace of genuine concern behind it, something warm that softened the brute's rough edges.

River nodded. His silence was as much a choice as a habit, a statement that he never needed words to make himself understood. This silent confidence caught Tanner's attention, and he looked at River with an intensity that seemed less curious and more drawn.

Sensing something subtle unfolding, Omar tried to lighten the moment, though his words held a smirk. "Dude...that rescue?" he laughed, nudging Andrew. "The way you hauled him out like he weighed nothing...was one of the funniest shit I ever saw," Tanner chuckled, glancing away for a second, but his attention inevitably returned to River, his eyes narrowing with a warmth Omar and Andrew recognized. Andrew gave Omar a gentle nudge, signaling for them to move along.

As the door swung shut behind them, a silence settled between the two remaining men. Tanner moved a step closer, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting. He looked down, taking in the subtle lines of River's face, the high cheekbones, and delicate angles with an understated beauty, something refined. It made him almost translucent under the harsh lights, a figure the tall hunk couldn't look away from.

With a small, thoughtful clearing of the throat, Tanner broke the silence. "You're not much of a talker, are you?" he asked, a murmur under the steady hiss of the water.

River shrugged, his demeanor relaxed, though his eyes, gold as autumn leaves, glinted with something hidden. Tanner watched him, and for a moment, the confident silence he had taken as a reserve now seemed almost like a boundary, a line River carefully kept intact between himself and the world.

The blonde finally spoke, his voice gentle but unwavering. "Sorry," he said, glancing down. "Didn't mean to make you lose the lead back there."

The words hung for a moment. Tanner didn't move, his gaze lingering on River's face before he shifted closer. The line between them was now hardly existent, and he tilted his head, studying the small bruise on River's cheek.

"It was worth it," Tanner said. He reached out, his hand lifting to brush his fingers against River's cheek, the rough calluses a surprising disparity against River's soft skin. His fingers hovered, lingering over the faint mark, and he smiled. "That face is too fucking pretty to be bruised."

River's lips curved, and he smiled.

Tanner leaned even closer, his musky breath willingly sliding up River's nostrils. "So...what do you say we go back there. You can suck my dick, get it all nice and wet..." he proposed, smirking as he coasted his lips on River's, feeling the blonde's hand immediately go for his hard cock. "And then I'll fuck that beautiful ass of yours until I cum inside you," he added, pulling back a few inches just to catch River's normally casual expression suddenly shift, his teeth showing as he spread his lips into the most breathtaking smile.

"Sure, I'm down," River replied, holding Tanner's wrist and pulling him into one of the private stalls across the large shower room.

Minutes later, River's moans and Tanner's groans of pleasure reverberated inside the empty shower room.

"Oh fuck...oh shit..." River stammered, his back pinned against the wall, legs scissored around Tanner's waist as the hunk's cock drilled into his hole.

The blonde's perfectly shaped cheeks clapped as Tanner pumped his cock inside, pushing River's body against the steamed tiles. "Fuck, your hole feels so good. Better than any pussy I ever fucked," the hunk groaned.

"You talk...too much..." River teased, his neck bending back as his mouth opened in ecstasy.

"Da'fuck am I suppose to do? I can't...help myself," Tanner replied, his thrusts getting more powerful, more fueled.

River's hand slid up, through the tall hunk's wet chest, along his neck until it stopped, taping Tanner's mouth shut. "Fuck...right there," River whimpered, his golden eyes glancing down, waiting for Tanner's to meet his. When they did, Tanner's thrust subsided, his rushed physicality suddenly tamed by River's opposing energy. "That's the spot," River whispered, smiling. "Now fuck me...slow and hard," the blonde ordered, his low voice forcing Tanner's aggression to halt.

Suddenly, a soft but compliant groan broke from under River's hand. Tanner was obeying the blonde's request meticulously. Every stroke was now slow, deliberate as the hunk masterfully pulled his massive dick out of River's hole until there were only a couple of inches left inside before sliding back, slowly and almost tenderly.

Soon, they fell into a rhythm, their bodies breathing together. Something muffled fled Tanner's mouth as he rolled his eyes back, writhing in rapture, the words imperceptible.

"I know, right?" River replied, finally uncovering Tanner's mouth, from which a loud, cavernous gasp erupted. But before the hunk could interject, River lunged his mouth forward, sliding his tongue inside Tanner's mouth, his smooth lips sanding against Tanner's thick beard.

Thirty seconds later, Tanner pulled back, his neck snapping as he unleashed a deep growl. As promised, he was unloading, deep inside River's insides, the thickest, longest, and juiciest load of his life. Every time he felt his balls contract, his cock seemed to grow bigger, expanding inside the blonde's walls, each string of cum bigger than the one before.

In turn, River's inner muscles clenched around Tanner's shaft, choking every drop out like a greedy junkie. The blonde's arms circled the hunk's neck tighter, pulling Tanner's forehead into the soft blonde fuzz that covered his pecs, where it nestled.

River could feel Tanner's breath recovering against his skin. And it felt glorious.

"Fuck...what the fuck..." Tanner panted. He clearly had never felt anything quite like what River had managed to offer him. Or pull out of him. The hunk's head lifted suddenly, his eyes still shivering, along with his cock, which still pulsed inside River. "Did you come?" he suddenly asked, pulling his chest back and flanking down.

It quickly got his answer as he felt a pearl-like gooey layer stuck between their upper bodies, slowly peeling away as he pulled back. His eyes shot up, glistening with pride. River clenched his hole, forcing Tanner's softening cock to slide out before his bare feet touched the ground. He leaned in and kissed Tanner's bewildered cheek before casually walking away.

"Are you back to not speaking?" Tanner taunted, a mix of amusement and surprise. But soon, his cockyness shifted. "Are we, hum...doing this again?" he questioned, watching River's naked body disappear in the corner. "Hey!" he called, desperation and a pinch of longing already creeping into his brute heart.

The tall hunk and the blonde beauty had tapped into something that day. But the reasoning behind it mattered little, it seemed. Tanner was hooked. And what he didn't know yet at the time but would undoubtedly come to realize was that there was no amount of pussy that could cure his newfound addiction. And this addiction had a name.

River.

Later that night, the barracks were quiet, and the snoring and occasional creak of beds were the only sounds drifting through the room. Andrew lay on his bunk, his thoughts blurring into the haze of sleep, muscles sore from the day's drills. But as he drifted, he felt a familiar shift in the bed, a gentle dip, a whisper of movement. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who it was.

Omar's head appeared from under the top bunk, his cerulean eyes glimmering with mischief. Without a word, he slipped down, nestling against his lover with a practiced ease. Their bodies fit together instinctively, Andrew's arms curling around Omar, drawing him close. It was a comfort neither of them spoke about anymore. Something as vital as breathing.

Their lips met in a soft kiss, a quiet reverence that held within it the memories of shared dreams and whispered plans. Andrew brushed a thumb over Omar's cheek, smiling faintly. They whispered in the darkness, voices blending in low, intimate tones that no one else could hear.

After a moment, Omar leaned back, his hand slipping into his pocket, before he pulled out a tiny, folded newspaper clipping worn around the edges from where he must have handled it a dozen times. He held it up in the scant light, glancing at Andrew with a spark in his eyes, the kind that promised trouble.

"What's this?" Andrew murmured, curiosity threading through his voice as he reached for the clipping. The corners of Omar's mouth curled upward as he watched Andrew scan the paper. It read, "A ranch for sale. Vast stretches of fields nestled in the hills." The clipping image also showed an old, beautiful homestead surrounded by swaying grasses, everything about it whispering of freedom, of a life away from the constraints of their world.

Omar's eyes were alight with plans. "It's perfect, isn't it?" he whispered, brushing his fingertips over the paper as if the image alone could pull them into the reality it offered.

Andrew chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "And how exactly are you planning on buying a whole ranch, huh?" he grinned, but his gaze softened as he looked at Omar, half-loving, half-incredulous at the boundless way his lover dreamed.

Omar held his gaze, an unreadable look flickering in his eyes, a sudden seriousness that didn't match the humor in his tone. He leaned close, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. "The answer's right under us," he whispered, casting a brief, wary glance around the quiet barracks.

Andrew tilted his head, intrigue sharpening his gaze. "Omar…"

Omar grinned, but the smile hinted at reckless ambition, which had pulled Andrew into trouble more times than he could count. "There's cash in this base...1.5 million," he whispered, words lagging purposely. "Hidden in the cargo, just waiting to be taken."

Andrew's breath caught, and he froze, his pulse quickening as the implications sank in. "You're not actually thinking about…" his voice trailed off, hesitant, but Omar didn't flinch.

"Oh, I'm definitely thinking about it," Omar replied, his tone defiant, his gaze locked onto Andrew's, fierce and unyielding. He leaned in, brushing his lips against Andrew's in a kiss that burned with promise, daring him to imagine a life unburdened by limits where they could be together without ordinance.

Omar's fingers traced Andrew's jawline, his voice barely a whisper against his skin as he uttered in the dark.

"I'd steal anything if it meant making a life with you."

(To be continued...)