Chapter 1: One for the money.
Chapter Text
The announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeaker, booming across the arena and surrounding showgrounds.
"Next up, long time contender and fan favorite Fit Mactaur, returning to the ring after last year’s stint on the judges panel and looking to take back his title!"
Pac's heart thundered in his chest, rushing blood drowning out the roar of the crowd as he stood at the edge of the arena, fingers tightened on the metal railing, knuckles white, prosthetic leg shifting slightly as he leaned forward in anticipation.
Floodlights shining in from the sidelines illuminated the ring, casting long shadows, leaving Pac half blind as he hung, dangling dangerously far over the edge of the railing to catch a glimpse of Fit who appeared at the announces call, sliding into position with a blinding grin and a jaunty salute to the judges box.
With a shriek Pac began cheering at the top of his lungs until they burnt, shouting praise and encouragement for the man at the gate, clapping so hard in excitement that his hands stung, palms red with the force of his praise. The cool night air offered a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day but did little to sooth his stinging palms, reddened cheeks or racing heart.
"Come on, Fit," Pac whispered, voice hoarse from the cheering, plump lips curving into a sappy smile. "Show 'em what you've got Cowboy."
The crowd, already roaring with enthusiasm faded into a dull ringing, barely registering in his mind as Pac watched Fit. Who was waiting patiently for the attendants to finish setting up for his run, his horse flicking its tail in excitement, just as eager for the run as its master.
He looked on, watching the calf struggling against its handlers hold as it was singled out from the others and dragged from the holding pen into place. Pac could see that his was cowboy chewing idly on the pigging string held between his teeth in anxious anticipation, the only sign of any fraying nerves in the older man and only one someone who knew him well would be able to pick up on.
Fortunately, Pac knew him better than anyone, living together for over half a decade meant that every nervous tic and aborted motion told Pac exactly what was going through the Americans bald head, each tell as familiar as the back of his own hand.
Taking a year off the circuit had been good for them but it left Fit uncertain of his ability in the ring.
A fear that Pac and their boys Richarlyson and Ramon had tried to bury under layers of praise and love while Mike and Phil, Pac and Fit’s best friends had teamed up, teasing the big American mercilessly, telling him that if a single year out of the saddle was enough to knock a man like Fit out he never deserved his spurs in the first place.
That had gotten Fit’s big beautiful bald head out of his ass and back into the game, He was determined to prove that one missed season could never dull a lifetime of carefully honed skills.
Pac watched Fit like a hawk on a mouse, calf roping was always so fast paced that a single distraction could have you missing a rider’s entire run so all eyes were on Fit.
Soon enough the handlers stepped back, calf now firmly in place, behind him the crowd waited with bated breath for the event to begin.
The American signaled that he was ready, nodding to the attendants, his face a mask of determination.
With a rattling clang and a ringing bell the gate swung open releasing the calf who brayed, racing away from its captors on sturdy legs, head down and barreling forward.
Fit’s horse, black as sin and just as mean raced forward as soon as the barrier rope dropped, the white bones painted on its coat and face stood out under the harsh lights making the stallion look like a skeleton horse come alive, some creature straight out of hell, its unsettling appearance matching its foul temper.
The muscular man on its back rocked forward, heels dug into its sides, silver spurs shining, pigging string held firmly in his teeth, lasso already up and swinging in a tight circle as rider and horse ran down the fleeing caramel colored calf.
Pac cupped his hands together over his mouth, practically shrieking as the rope flew, landing cleanly around the calf’s neck, it went down in a cloud of dust, lasso tightening around its throat, Fit vaulted off his horse, dust kicking up around his scuffed boots. His hands flew like lightning, the left only a second slower than his right, the old injury hardly bothering Pac’s cowboy.
With a grunt and cheer Fit was suddenly hefting the struggling cow up with a show of his impressive strength before dropping it down onto its back, legs stuck up in the air ready to be roped.
Pac’s screams were drowned out under the roar of the crowd, despite that some selfish needy part of him knew Fit could hear him calling his name, the American always did, somehow able to pick the Brazilian out in a crowd of thousands with eerie certainty.
The run was over in seconds, though it felt like a lifetime, calf tied down on its side with three legs stuck up in the air and bound tight enough to hold but not hurt the poor animal, the horse moved back slowly, keeping the rope steady and taut as it had been trained to do. Fit stepped back with it, arms raised high in the air to signal time, his eyes flicking over to Pac with something like pride and desperation shining in there hazel depth, a cocky smirk on his lips, white teeth peeping out from the dark shadow of his close cropped beard.
"And that, folks, is why they call him 'Fit'!" the announcer bellowed. "Let's hear it one more time!"
"That's it, cowboy," Pac murmured under the announcer’s call, his voice husky with desire. "Rope me next."
Pac rubbed his thighs together, desperately trying to alleviate some of the burning want steadily building between them as the event unfolded before him. Rodeos were always thrilling for the Brazilian and with Fit in attendance it had been a thrilling evening, the best he’d had in a long time.
Despite how often Pac ran the circuit he had been out of the ring for half a decade at this point, having well and truly given up being a rodeo clown for riding his own bulls and helping Fit and his family out with their own runs.
Pac had never actually crossed events with Fit while working the circuit, but he liked to think he wouldn’t have been so hopelessly rooted in place if they had met while he was still in the game, able to stand on his own two legs and tangle with the best of the brazen beasts unleashed on the ring and make crowds of thousands cheer his name.
But that was as likely as Pac putting his makeup back on and jumping into a barrel with all the metal pins keeping his left leg together and his right more metal than meat.
An injury courtesy of Cellbit and his nightmare bull that had gotten out of control, needing all hands-on deck to wrangle it back into a pen with Pac getting knocked down by the beast during its rage fueled rampage, it was his job protect his friend and the other entertains trying to get hold of the bucking Brahman and he had paid a heavy price for their safety.
He had been knocked down, trampled and trod on by the snorting and stomping beast until his bone’s broke in more places than Pac cared to count or remember, blood staining the sands and his memories, leaving a cloying taste of iron coating Pac’s tongue at just the bitter memory and a phantom twinge in a muscle no longer alive, replaced my metal and plastic facsimile.
The left leg had been salvageable with more than a few major operations, but the right was a lost cause, so badly mangled by the bull’s iron hooves that it had been barely hanging on by a thread of tattered sinew by the time someone had managed to get control of the 1500-pound beast and lead it away from Pac’s crumpled form.
Pac shook the dark memory along with the phantom pains from his mind with a forced, overly eager smile, shoving them deep down into the abyss as he waved at his American, returning the loaded look with one of his own, longing and pride swirling together into a heated mess of desire, Pac could already feel the familiar dampness that usually accompanied Fit’s presence spreading through the delicate black lace of his panties, he simply could not help himself when it came to Fit, none of the other contestants had caught his attention so thoroughly, all of them subpar studs compared to the perfect specimen that was his bull and truthfully they hadn’t in years.
Fit was a good-looking man, dressed in old school cowboy attire for the evening, so much buttery leather that it had Pac drooling and dripping already, from the boots to the rose and vine embroidered chaps acting as protection for his long legs against the wear and tear of riding was genuine bovine goodness , harvested from their own cattle and dyed an inky black.
Fit’s sage green button up was understated compared to Pac’s own pale blue plaid but no less well fitted, the handkerchiefs on their necks were the only thing that matched, a bright rose red that Fit himself had tied around Pac’s slender throat just that morning, a part of their outfits that always matched, even if the colors changed.
They differed on hats, Pac hadn’t been able to wear his own old ten gallon, handed back to him after the accident, just as trampled and blood stained as the man himself. He could have gotten a new one, plenty of his friends had offered or tried to cajole him into it but Pac preferred to leave his head bare for Fit and his own favorite part of each event.
The American would stride over to wherever Pac had perched after his run and set the ancient, faded black Stetson on Pac’s head as delicately as someone crowning a king. It was a little big on his head but added a touch of authentic cowboy glamour to his look that had been missing and made Pac’s heart flutter every time Fit sat the silly old thing on him.
He was well aware of what that gesture meant to any cowboy worth their salt, it was a declaration of ownership and intent, the sour looks on the faces of the other gaudily dressed women milling around the ring side had Pac grinning, sharp and mean as they slunk away to chase other, far less impressive bull’s or lick their wounds.
It had started out as just a silly joke, something between ‘friends’ to keep the rowdy cowboys away from Pac when he wasn’t looking to ride and the vicious women wanting to dig their claws into a prime Italian American beef stud well away from Fit during the season.
Of course, Pac was careful to never grab it and put the hat on himself.
If he had done that to any other cowboy he would have been legs up and fucked within an inch of his life in the back of someone’s truck or a field faster than he could blink.
Pac had only been brave enough to try it once, sneaking up while the other man’s back was turned to teasingly snatch Fit’s hat while he was busy in their own barn back home, the cowboy distracted by his shadowy stallion, sugar cubes in hand and crooning sweetly at the snorting beast.
He had raced around with it, hands tight on the brim as he taunted Fit by dancing just out of reach, twirling away when he tried to snatch it back, The American had gone a violent beet red, slowly herding Pac into a corner and backing him up against a wall until he was trapped in place.
Fit managed to take hold of Pac’s delicate wrists, pinning them above his head and crooning out that he should take Pac up on his offer in a voice so deep and silky it left Pac squirming with guilt and arousal, whimpering out a half moaned “you should” in reply before slipping away, dropping the hat back on Fit’s head with a wink, the brim pulled down low enough to cover his gorgeous hazel eyes while Pac made his daring escape.
Fit and Pac might not have been together by any official standard but the American did his darndest to warn off the many frisky cowboys that often circled around his roommate like sharks scenting chum, taking care of the younger man in any way he could.
Staying close together had been the most effective method so far, as if living in the same home and sharing a room wasn’t enough to warn them off when Pac’s firm rejections failed.
Pac’s rough fingers fluttered up to his neckerchief, gently adjusted the soft fabric until it was snug around his throat, inhaling the comforting smell of their home and watching as Fit stared, adams apple bobbing as he tightened it just a bit more.
Pac had to bury a smirk, suddenly reminded of when a twinky little buckle buck had saddled up to him last year, when Fit had been at the judges table rather than riding, giving the family a chance to just enjoy the events rather than participate, thinking that Pac, with his stetson and red neckerchief was one of the riders looking for a little fun, the red hanky hanging out of the other man’s pocket signaling from a mile away that he was looking for a good time.
The matter had been cleared up quickly enough with the admission that Pac wasn’t available, the hat on his head belonged to the cowboy currently walking towards them at break neck pace, said over protective off-duty rider had come up behind him, wrapping his thick muscled arms around Pac’s hips and sliding his hands into the almost painted on pockets of Pac’s black jeans, pulling the smaller man flush against his solid chest and resting his chin over Pac’s shoulder, glaring, growling a low “you ok sweetheart?” under his breath
Both smaller men had gone red, with the intruder stuttering out an apology as he ran off, Pac preening under Fit’s protective hold and relishing in the close contact, it wasn’t unusual, they shared a bed and were very touchy with each other for “roommates” but that time had felt different, more than just making sure Pac wasn’t swamped with unwanted suiters.
Pac’s own marks were displayed proudly on Fit, one on his broad chest, shining like a star as the announcer called out his time, breaking Pac out of his memories, a respectable eight seconds and change, the fastest time yet, with a red enameled brooch shaped like a rose and the second, a little gold Pacman pin that had originally been a gift from Mike on his hat.
Passing on his pin had been a bold move, his own way of laying claim to his little crush, His best friend should have been mad but the other retired clown had understood the meaning behind passing it on to Fit, he had given his own creeper faced medallion to Mine who still wore it over a decade later, even when competing in her preferred event, the barrel racing.
It was just part of their love language, a relic of growing up together in the uncaring foster system where treasures of their own were so few and far between that even the little tin badges of video game icon’s were as precious as gold, getting them remade in more resilient metals had been the first thing they did when there budget could support it.
Mikes wife had her own sweet gesture to claim the younger of the two brazilin’s, her bleach white, ten gallon hat with delicate leaves and flowers in all colors of the rainbow embroidered along the rim by Mines own skilled hand almost always sat firmly on Mikes head, half covering his shaggy pink curls.
Pac stared as Fit backed his horse up, letting the attendants rush forward and take control of the struggling calf, respooling the ropes as he rode off center field, head held high and smiling at the crowd like a true showman.
Fit steered his horse closer to the railing passing by Pac and tipping his much-coveted hat at the little crowd of fans gathered by the ringside, he took it off with a flourish, revealing his bald head to masses and, with a flick of the wrist sent it flying like a frisbee, right into Pac’s chest.
"Looks like someone's got an admirer!" Chuckled the announcer, laughing over the speakers at the ballsy display.
He scrambled to catch it, mouth open in a gasp that was drowned out under the crowd roar, shocked by the sudden change in routine Pac nearly fumbled but was able to grab it tight, barely paying attention to the announcer and ignoring the hisses of the near rabid fans milling around him as he clutched it over his heart, soaking in the warmth from where it had sat against Fit’s bald head.
A hush fell over Pac's immediate vicinity, onlookers gaping at the bold gesture. Pac clutched the hat to his chest, his fingers tracing the worn brim. The scent of leather and Fit's cologne enveloped him, igniting a fire in his core.
Pac's breath caught on his words. "What are you doing, cowboy?" he murmured, leaning forward.
Instead of coming in for his usual celebratory fist bump to complete the exchange Fit gave a saucy wink, a slow smile spreading across his face. The unspoken message was clear as he rode out of the ring, making way for the next rider to take the stage.
Pac’s heart raced, Fit the absolute bastard had propositioned him and then ridden away like it was nothing. His legs wobbled, and he gripped the fence for support. Years of longing, of stolen glances and lingering touches, crystalized into this moment. The familiar ache of arousal surged through him, more potent than ever.
They had been dancing around each other for years in a completed waltz of shame and desire, romantic feelings and the fear of change or rejection but now he couldn’t pretend it was just roaming hands in the dark and longing glances.
He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had taken advantage of their shared bed and Fit’s deep slumber more than once to get a good feel of his morning wood, sometimes going as far as to ensure that Fit had a happy ending to his little wet dream but this? This was beyond claiming each other to keep unwanted flirting away or a simple puppy crush, this was an open request for his company that Pac had no intention of turning down, his mind racing with the thought of what might happen when Fit was free from his event.
Pac barely heard what the announcer was saying now. His entire world had narrowed to the hat in his hands and the man in the arena.
He didn’t bother keeping an eye on the last few rounds – the most important rider had already run, Pac was too busy staring at him to bother with the half dozen other riders, watching Fit mill around with the other contestants and formulating a plan. Occasionally Fit would glance over and give that damn smile, the half-cocked quirk of his lips that drove the Brazilian wild before turning back to whatever conversation was keeping him entertained.
The event didn’t last much longer. Fit had been one of the first riders out of the gate and the remaining dozen contestants were finished by the time Pac had broken out of the shock, pulled out his phone and shot a text off to Mike asking him to keep hold of the kids for the night, arguing back and forth over why the older Brazilian suddenly needed his best friend to run interference and keep everyone away from the camper van when he hadn’t ridden a bull in years, poking his tongue out as the occasional rabid cock chasing fan got a little too close with a sneered comment on the hat now crowning his head and how he wasn’t worthy of it, like the faded old thing didn’t have a little medallion with his signature already pinned to the brim.
When the announcer called for all participants to step back into the ring for final ranking Pac hopped off his perch and slunk away, he didn’t need to stick around to know the results, having kept track of the times and any that had beat out his man’s.
Fit had predictably ranked high, snagging second place by a few milliseconds and losing out to BadBoyHalo who had ridden in on his ghost white steed to claim the fastest time, despite his sudden appearance and the five millisecond difference between them Pac knew Fit would hold the younger man no ill will, Bad was a formidable opponent and would be taking home most of the gold tonight, he almost always won the event when he entered the ring so it was nothing unexpected.
When Pac hopped down from his perch and made his way through the crowd, skillfully avoiding the various stalls set up around the show grounds he didn’t need to look back to know that Fit’s eyes followed him out of the area, he could feel them burning a hole in the back of his head, the older man would know exactly where to find him as soon as he was free to go, Fit always, knew where to find him.
He felt no guilt in missing out on the rest of the night’s events, Mine would be racing the next evening and the baby bull rides weren’t until later that afternoon to give the calves time to rest between days so Pac wasn’t going to miss Ramon’s ride or Mine’s events by slipping away for a little rendezvous and with Mike taking charge of the kids for the evening he could relax, really enjoy himself for once and indulge in his long awaited night riding the bull of his dreams.
It was easy to make his way through the milling crowds to the back of the showgrounds where the stables and carpark for participants were located, Pac had the benefit of being mostly unknown these days but as a former rodeo clown he knew his way around almost all of the stadiums. Sure he and Mike still travelled around with Mine and Fit to help them out with competitions but they had both retired well before even meeting the others thanks to Pac’s injury, he just wasn’t nimble enough to be dodging bulls with his missing leg and pins in the other anymore.
One of the things they had bought to make the rodeo circuit easier on themselves as they got older was a motorhome for when they were on the road, so they didn’t have to rent hotel rooms in every town with the kids in tow or drag out the tents. Pac and Fit would usually drive it with the kids running around safe inside while Mine and Mike dealt with the truck and horse trailer, fortunately for Pac the RV was the perfect place to wait for Fit, normally he wouldn’t bring his bulls back to the camper but this was different, Fit was more than just an evening of fun, not that Pac had really been seeking those out these days, content to hang around with Fit and nurse his ever deepening feelings for the other.
Pac fished around in his little backpack for the keys, rifling through the myriad of random things he kept on hand ‘just in case’, jingling them in the lock and swinging the door open with a firm push, making sure to re-lock it behind him once safely inside and tossing his bag into one of the armchairs so it was out of his way.
The camper was empty and would remain so until Pac sent Mike the ‘all clear’, his best friend would keep Ramon and Richas away, use the fair rides and other events to keep them entertained and in the worst case pull out the eight-men tent they kept in the truck for emergencies and have a sleepover under the stars.
Pac didn’t need to worry about Fit not knowing where to find him, the American would either use the tracker on his phone to locate where the Brazilian had gone or would just know by the way he had vanished and his uncanny knack of locating the younger man no matter where he was so Pac slipped inside the camper leaving all the hard won confidence he had left outside the door, nervously puttering around the connected kitchen and lounge, awkwardly trying to tidy the already clean-living space in an attempt to pass the time and make what was to be his first proper time with Fit happen in a nice place, failing miserably as the camper was as neat and tidy as it was going to get without a deep clean.
Pac chewed on his lip, worrying at the soft plump flesh before stripping off his jeans, shirt and boots in a sudden impulsive decision to give his cowboy a nice surprise, tossing the discarded garments into the bedroom and onto Mike’s bunk, leaving just the matching delicate lace panties and bra set covering Pac’s most intimate bits, his favorite pair that thankfully hadn’t gone missing like some of the sets he wore more regularly, particularly the ones he liked to take out when he wants to feel good, Pac loved the way his current set cupped his tits, accentuating the slight swell of breast and how the black lace rubbed against his skin.
The only other things Pac kept on was his red neckerchief and Fit’s black Stetson, he couldn’t bear to part with it, the physical evidence of Fit’s intent to fuck him and more declared in front of a crowd of thousands, Pac hoped it wasn’t some cruel joke, hoped that Fit intended to go through with this properly or Pac would be making a fool of himself, hoped it would finally end the seemingly eternal dance around each other, Pac could only stay roommates for so long before one far too cold winter morning had him taking his secret morning explorations a step further, he’d been dreaming about pinning Fit down and riding that bull to the finish for years and if he didn’t get some prime Italian American beef in him soon it would end badly for all of them, Vegan Beef sausage was just not doing it for him anymore.
The Brazilian took a deep breath, calming his racing heart and snatching an ice cold can of his favorite drink: Monster Ultra, from the well-stocked fridge, standing there in his lingerie draining the can half way empty in a few desperate gulps before plopping down onto the plush fold out couch that usually served as his and Fit’s bed when they were on the road, facing the locked door with his long legs, both flesh and false spread wide, putting his lace covered pussy on display, the blissfully cold air-conditioned breeze brushing against the shamefully damp patch of excitement over his already slick and excited hole, sending shivers up his spine, cunt twitching in anticipation.
Pac rested the open, half empty can of monster between his thighs, trying to sooth some of the burning want with the cold metal, leaving the heavily textured side pressed right up against his throbbing clit, shocking the thinly clothed bundle of nerves with the sudden cold, Pac grit his teeth and forced himself to stay pressed up against it, hardly a minute passing by before Pac started to bite at his lips, the temperature making him whimper and fidget with the waistband of his panties, slender fingers on one hand trailing down his thigh in a moment of weakness.
It wouldn’t hurt to get himself warmed up a little? Just to settle the nerves and make things easier on Fit, He reasoned with himself, besides the can was rubbing deliciously against him, just about the same glorious length and thickness he had felt while sneaking a feel of Fit’s monster sausage or grinding together at night, one or the both of them pretending to be too deeply asleep to notice there and the other’s actions.
The can pressed right up against his engorged cocklet despite the shear lace between skin and metal so when Pac worked his hips up in tight circles he ground against the texture embossed on the cans side, little pained gasps escaping his throat as he humped against it, the sounds of his drink sloshing against the cans sides and his own panting breaths ringing in the Brazilians ears and the otherwise silent camper.
When the texture alone proved not enough Pac growled to himself, frustrated at his slowly raising high that slipped away as soon as he stopped working himself against the can. Setting the now much warmer drink off to the side where he couldn’t accidentally knock it over in his frustration.
Pac made his decision, chasing the fleeing high by slipping a hand into his panties while the other came up, ignoring the clasp between his breasts and working under the delicate lace of his bra to cup a breast, pinching at the nipple until it pebbled under his touch, flicking the thick gold hoop pierced through it to enhance the pleasure.
Two trembling fingers pressed between his damp bare folds, sliding up the length of his slit to gather the slick that had begun to leak out, soaking his panties with need. Pac brought those wet fingers up to circle around his aching clit, already engorged and throbbing, he shuddered and pressed down on the tender bundle of nerves, hips jolting up at the sudden warmth after the cold assault it had been put under, like someone had hit him with the business end of a cattle prod set on low.
He sucked in a breath of cold air to center himself before sending those slick fingers back down to glide over his hole, feeling it flutter in anticipation, than, with a jerk of his wrist those long calloused fingers sunk into the welcoming heat down to the last knuckle in one smooth motion, pussy still plenty stretched from the night before that Pac had spent fucking himself on his favorite oversized toy in a futile attempt to work out his frustrations, no longer able to settle for random hookups or his own hand with his heart set on one very special bald American cowboy but still needing to sate his bodies hunger for pleasure.
With a sharp cry Pac tweaked his nipple, twisting the peaked bud until the pleasure in his gut began to pool again, dark eyes sliding closed as he imagined Fit’s big, work rough hands on his tender breasts instead of his own smaller smoother ones. Pac brought his thumb up to stroke along the wet length of his cock, now wonderfully slick with his juices, scissoring his fingers and slipping a third finger into his aching hole, Pac bit down on his lip to muffle the sound, rocking forward into the burning stretch as sweat began to bead on his forehead despite the air conditioning, moaning a low shuddering “Fi-itch~” Already lost in his own pleasure.
Chapter 2: Two for the show
Chapter Text
Pac’s heavy panting covered the soft sounds of footsteps on gravel as someone walked around the RV, arriving at the door having made no attempt to hide their presence but still going unnoticed, keys sliding near silently into the lock, door swinging open to reveal Fit who gasped, mouth dropping open at the sight before him of Pac spread out on the couch with his legs wide open, wet panties doing nothing to hide how the younger man was three fingers deep in his own cunt with the other hand rolling a dusky nipple pinched cruelly between his clever fingers.
Fits mouth worked in a soundless exclamation, stepping into the RV with his eyes zeroed in on the damp patch between Pac’s legs, He tugged the door closed to hide the scene from any prying eyes with such sudden force that it slammed closed, rattling in its frame and startling Pac who’s eyes snapped open, yanking his fingers out of his stretched pussy with a startled yelp, caught literally red handed in the act of working himself to the peak of pleasure.
The American was across the room before Pac could blink, grabbing Pac’s wrists in a delicate hold and pulling them to his chest so fast that Pac hardly saw him move, ignoring the slick evidence of Pac’s embarrassment and need in favor of bearing down, slotting himself neatly between Pac’s well-muscled thighs, face hovering inches away from the Brazilians as he lent down taking in the vision of beauty and provocation his roommate made.
Red began to spread across Fit’s cheeks to match the shade Pac had flushed in shame at being caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar, fingers still wet with his arousal. He had a second to look up and meet the American’s eyes, hazel gone dark with the half-buried beast of want and desire finally clawing its way to the surface before chapped lips met his own well moisturized ones, smearing the taste of his cherry lip gloss between them as Fit captured his mouth in a kiss. Fit lent over him, pressing Pac deeper into the couch, keeping him pinned firmly in place with only his hips and the burning kiss shared between them, if Pac really wanted, he could have struggled and forced the older man off him but they both knew he wanted it too badly, they both did.
Fit made a little sound, something needy and desperate, almost starving as his lips moved against Pac’s, like he was trying to speak either in praise or prayer, grip tightening until Pac cried out, mouth opening in a mix of pleasure and pain. Fit took his chance, tongue darting out to explore Pac’s sweet mouth, eagerly investigating the newly exposed uncharted terrain and claiming it for himself.
Pac took a moment to respond, shocked by how daring his cowboy was being, first the hat and now this?
He didn’t waste another moment on silly thoughts, his own tongue rushing out to slide against Fit’s, getting his first taste of the American, it was everything he imagined and more, Fit’s mouth tasting of familiar spices and something citrusy, like a mix of the homemade jerky he was always snacking on and Pac’s last can of monster energy drink that now sat off the side, forgotten and beading with condensation, an odd combination but something so very them that Pac couldn’t help but to greedily swallow it down, committing the taste to memory.
Pac felt a little silly at the way he purred into the kiss, savoring the taste like each second was the last he would ever get as their tongues twisted together, teeth clicking as the two over eager men fought to satisfy their desire, fueled by years of longing.
He pulled back far enough to nip at Fit’s lips driving the older man to role his hips, erection straining through his jeans and grinding against Pac’s sensitive cunt in punishment for the stinging nip, establishing himself as the lead in this dance and putting Pac back into his place under the elder, it worked, Pac jerking back, mewling Fit’s name, a string of spit connecting them even as he broke the kiss, chest heaving and lips red raw, a line of spit trailing down his strong jaw,
Fit hardly let Pac catch his breath, capturing his lips again and smearing them with spit, this time delivering a few sharp nips of his own until Pac opened up willingly to accept his tongue, submitting to the exploration. This kiss was less urgent despite the bites, more tender and cautious as Fit’s tongue ran along the swell of his bottom lip, gathering a mouthful of citrus, spice, and cherry to covert for himself.
It was Fit who broke it off the second time, pulling away, breathless and panting, lips swollen red from the kiss. Pac was sure his looked no better than Fit's, he could already feel the way they had been lovingly bruised, Pac desperately wanted to stop and take a look, see how his lip's had darkened but Fit dragged his attention back to what was important by laying a chaste kiss on the crest of his cheek, startling the Brazilian into a squeak of embarrassment.
“Look at you Darlin, wearing my hat and looking so fucking pretty~” Fit cooed at him, voice swung low and accent thickened into a faux southern drawl that had Pac shivering in delight, he couldn’t deny that it was doing something for him, seeing Fit still in his getup with rope and lasso coiled neatly on his belt and all sweaty from the ride, smelling deliciously of something wild and uniquely Fit.
Pac flushed at the complement, he wasn’t ashamed of his looks, he knew just how desirable he was even with the long surgical scars running of the length of his left leg and the entirety of the right missing below the knee. The Brazilian had yet to meet a man who could turn him down or resist his charms aside from the one still standing between his legs, but it was still near overwhelming to be on the other end of Fit’s direct affection after so long teasing and wanting, like someone has shone a spotlight onto a bug, pinning them down to be examined with wings spread and antenna still twitching.
“You- but you gave it to me nao? Did you not mean it?” Pac whined, looking up at Fit, his big dark eyes glossy and shining with unshed tears, half tempting Fit to leap into action and comfort him and half genuinely concerned that he had been mistaken, that the older man hadn’t been asking for his company, instead just wanting to show off for the gathered crowds with a bit of fan service as he liked to do, Fit was a true showman and knew what the crowd wanted, he was always happy to deliver.
Something softened in Fit’s hazel eyes, like butter melting in a hot pan as the older man lent forward and placed a soft kiss, like the ones he gave Ramon every night before bed right on the crown of Pac’s head full of love and care, reminding him of the time a buckle bunny had stolen Fit’s hat right off of the Brazilians dark haired head thinking it would get her a night with his American only to have said cowboy storming up to her and snatching it back with thinly concealed loathing, hissing out that it wasn’t hers to take and returning the hat to its rightful place on Pac’s head, kissing the crown of his head with all the love and tenderness he could before plopping it down.
Just the memory of Fit’s protective hold and dark scowl set his heart racing, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.
“Oh sweetheart, Y’all knew I meant it the moment I first gave you that old hat, wasn’t a game of keep away or hands off to me.” Fit’s accent had slipped further, slurring his words with that honey thick caramel country twang that the elder knew sent Pac’s heart fluttering wildly in the cage of his chest, beating at his ribs like it was a bird trying to break out and fly away.
“So you think I’m pretty do you fitch?” Pac asked, the American’s answer smoothing over the previous flash of uncertainty, his impish nature shining through despite the embarrassing situation Pac found himself in, pinned against the couch with his own accent slipping as he rocked into Fit’s erection, using the momentary distraction to break one of his hands free of Fit’s slackening hold to trail a neatly manicured nail painted the same sage green as the shirt clinging to Fit’s broad chest, tucked into his jeans and doing very little to conceal how muscular the other man was or the slight pudge of his belly, Fit having filled out from just muscular into a proper hunk of a man thanks to Pac’s home cooking, down Fit’s rugged cheek and dark beard, delighting in the little shuddering gasp that snuck out of his dry lips, parted to let out pretty little sounds from the barest of touches.
“Course I do Pac, you’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen” He replied, voice thick with emotion, eyes sliding half closed as he tucked his cheek into Pac’s palm, rubbing against it and humming in satisfaction.
This wasn’t the first time Pac found himself with a handful of Fit’s face, the older man often curled up on Pac’s chest at night, groaning softly into the sweet swell of the Brazilians breasts and grumbling as nightmares overtook him, all it took to calm him down was Pac’s warm palm cupping his cheek and a few whispered words of love or on the worst nights, a bared breast for Fit to take into his mouth and suck on, like a babe seeking comfort.
“You’re pretty too Fit, meu grande e lindo homem.” Pac laughed, using his hold on the Americans cheek to drag him down and pepper little closed mouth kisses across his burning face, pulling away, tongue darting out to lick the taste of sweat and salt from his lips.
“Não tão bonita quanto você, gosto de você Pac” Fit purred, accent clashing with the surprisingly neat Portuguese that fell from his lips like prayer, like Fit had spoken it a thousand times, Pac froze in surprise, a look of shock settling over his features.
Sure, Pac spoke his native language around the home plenty, had even taught it to Ramon, their little ducking now as fluent in the shared language as if he had been born to it but Fit had only ever uttered the odd phrase he picked up from being constantly around a slew of Brazilians, never such a fluent and flirty statement said with such surety and confidence that Fit must have known exactly what he was saying and meant every word.
Instead of taking the look of shock and his gaping mouth as Pac being disgusted or offput Fit grinned in victory, recapturing Pac’s hands and yanking them both up over his head and forcing the youngers chest to arch out, nipples dragged across the shear lace as he was made to lean back, chest presented almost proudly for Fit’s attention.
With a sound of appreciation Fit’s hot heavy gaze raked over Pac’s heaving chest, dark eyes devouring every inch of exposed flesh and well-toned muscle with nearly the same look he gave any livestock they were looking to add to their little farm, his experienced eye taking in every minute detail and committing it to memory, from the scars littering his frame thanks to a youth spent dodging bulls and running riot to the light dusting of pearlescent glitter Mike had helped him apply that morning, just in case he did find a particularly handsome stud catching his attention, Pac had never dreamed that stud would be Fit, not tonight and not on the American’s own terms, Pac was sure he would have to be the one to take the last step and declare it open season between them.
“Y-you like me? Eu também gosto de você Fitchi~” He stuttered, testing the grip on his wrists, finding it delicate enough to not bruise but as unyielding and unbreakable as the man before him, Pac struggled against it, forcing Fit to squeeze down with a threatening growl, refusing to let his man escape.
Pac overjoyed at the response batted his long dark lashes and kicked his good leg up, hooking it around Fit’s surprisingly trim waist, dragging the bigger man in closer and grinding them together, denim and leather against bare skin and scant lace.
“Now, are you going to do anything about it Big Boy?” Hunger flashed across Fit’s eyes as Pac teased him, grip finally tightening into something that would leave a mark on his mocha skin.
“Oh I plan to Darlin’, you got a place you want to go or should I get Mikey to watch the kids? Don’t think I’ll be finished with you by the time they get back here.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to Pac’s already flushed cheek.
“Don’t worry about the nene’s Fitch, Mike’s already on it and has strict instructions to take them camping tonight if we don’t show up!” Pac preened, pleased with himself for thinking well and truly ahead, insuring the boys (as well as Mike and Mine) would be kept well out of the way for what would hopefully be an evening full of long earned fun for them, Pac had heard plenty of rumor's about Fit’s youth, the American making his way around the stables and his prowess in bed, he had also woken up plenty of mornings to a mess of slick between his thighs and felt how, even asleep Fit was able to bring him to a shuddering high with just a muscled thigh pressed between Pac’s legs.
“Aren’t you just the cleverest little moonpie” Fit crooned, voice so low and sweet that Pac’s cocklet jumped to attention, twitching under its hood and straining against the lace of his panties, eager for any stimulation.
“I am! The most cleverest ever!” Pac declared with faux confidence, stumbling over his English while rocking against Fit’s clothed erection with as much subtlety as he could manage, intent on taking as much pleasure as he was able to get away with before fit called him out on his underhanded tricks.
“That’s right baby, my clever little thing. Now turn that big brain of yours off and tell Daddy how you want him to fuck you” Fit purred, rubbing soothing circles into Pac’s skin.
Pac’s brain short circuited at those words, the spark of thought behind his bright eyes blinking out and being replaced with nothing but white hot need, whimpering at the thought of calling Fit ‘daddy’ in more than just reference to the American being Ramon’s father, images of what he wanted chasing themselves around his brain until he finally settled on the thing he wanted most, blurting it out, voice high with desperation.
“Raw! I wa-ant you to fuck me raw daddy” he begged, struggling slightly against Fit’s iron grip, ensuring that he would have some pretty purple bruises come morning.
A look of intense need crossed Fit’s face, his eyes clouding with lust, the older man leaning down to whisper in Pac’s ear, dark beard stubble scraping across his neck and making him mewl at the sudden sharp stimulation.
“Want me raw sweetheart? You want me to put a baby in that pretty belly of yours? Fill you up with my cum until you’re all nice and fat with another baby for us to love? Give the boys a little sibling?” The American crooned, half threat and half a promise on his clever tongue.
“Sim! por favor! Deus, por favor me foda Fitchi” Pac chanted, kicking his heel into the small of Fit’s back and driving their clothed crotches together. “Want a baby, please Fitch? I just have to stop my birth control but please?”
“What are you using Darlin? A baby is a big decision.” Fit’s grip went slack enough the Pac could have broken out if he wanted, the Americans voice softening.
“it’s the implant, the little bar in my arm” Pac offered up the information, twisting his left arm around and trying to show Fit the small injection site on the underside of his upper arm, just a tiny scar from its implantation and a thin line of scar tissue where old ones had been removed, this one had already been in him for about a year and wasn’t due to be replaced for a while but Pac knew that once it was removed he would be good to go within a week, unnecessary birth control flushed from his system and more than ready to take anything Fit was willing to give him.
Fit let his dominant hand drop, holding Pac’s wrists loosely together with his weaker left hand, offering Pac a good look at the deep scaring and mangled skin, He could already feel the slight tremor in Fit’s hand from holding Pac’s arms up by itself, but he trusted Fit to know his limits.
Pac made a small mewl of confusion as Fit’s strong right hand slid down his arm coming to rest over where the bar sat, two of Fit’s fingers pressing into the skin and feeling around until he came across the thin line of plastic preventing Pac from getting pregnant.
It felt odd when Fit put a little more pressure on it, feeling around its length just like a doctor would before pressing a sweet kiss right over it, murmuring into the skin.
“If it wouldn’t hurt you, I’d rip this useless fucking thing out right now and fill you up good, make you my pretty cow, see how those tits your always teasing me with look full of milk for me and our baby.”
Pac’s breath hitched at the half promise, half threat, part of him screaming for Fit to just do it, to take one of the half dozen razor sharp knives they had just laying around or on their belts and get the damn bar out of him so he could be a good little cow, give his big brawny stud exactly what he needed even with the larger, much smarter part of his brain calling him a dumb whore for being willing to bleed all over his bed just for a load of hot, sweet cum in his hungry cunt, he wouldn’t even get a baby out of it! The hormones needed time to leave his body before anything would catch.
“I- please! I want that, please big daddy?” Pac mewled, giving in to the dumb brain between his legs and begging for Fit to help him. He could live with the blood; it wouldn’t be any worse than the monthly visit from his vengeful womb and certainly not as bad as when he went under Cellbit’s rogue bull.
“Oh baby….you know I can’t really do that, don’t want you bleeding out all over the place” Fit’s thumb caressed over the bar, the older man sounding so sorry that he couldn’t give Pac what he wanted then and there, voice gone soft with almost the same tone he used to sooth Pac on cold winter nights when his bones ached and the pain was too much for a man to handle.
Pac huffed a little, pursing his lips and pouting as if he was a toddler denied their favorite toy, snapping out a sharp irritated “than I need you to fuck me, come on Fitchi show me what I’m working with and we can try again later, I’ll make an appointment with the Doctor as soon as I can! Just give it to me please”
“As soon as you can? How about we do that now.” Something in the older man’s voice put Pac on edge as Fit smiled down at him, lips quirking up at the sides as he lowered Pac’s arms gently and fished around in his back pocket, pulling out his phone and flicking through his contact list while Pac gasped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water in sheer disbelief, was Fit really going to do this right now?
There was the soft sound of beeps as Fit dialed in a number, flashing his phone screen at Pac so he could see exactly who Fit was calling, the personal number for Missa who was both a close family friend being one of their neighbor Philza’s partners and the Doctor at the local GP, someone they trusted to tend to their everyday health needs and who saw to not only Fit and Pac’s long term injuries and the kids frequent check-ups but changed out Pac’s birth control every three years already dialed in on the screen. Between three farms and more than a dozen kids he called the damn number often enough it was more familiar than his own.
“Hey Missa, I know it’s short notice, but I got a favor to ask” Fit spoke down the line, rubbing his thumb over the bar in Pac’s arm as he did so, gently pushing down on it’s middle and making Pac gasp breathlessly, tongue pinned between his teeth in an effort to stifle any sound.
“Yeah yeah, the kids are fine it’s actually for Pac, he wants to get his little bar thingy out” Pac strained his ears, trying to catch the other side of the conversation, managing to faintly hear the soft buzz of Missa’s high pitched voice.
“No, he’s here, just had his hands full, let me get him now yeah?” Fit grinned as if he’d won a blue ribbon on his prize Heifer, white teeth flashing behind his pink bruised lips.
“Pac Darlin’, can you tell the good doctor that you do want that annoying little thing out as soon as he can get you into the clinic” the Brazilian’s breath hitched as Fit held out his phone, angling it against Pac’s ear so he could hear Missa and speak properly into the microphone.
Was Fit serious? Did he really want to have a baby with Pac? Was he even worthy or ready to be a father to more than the two boys they already shared? Of course he was. He wanted this and more, he wanted everything Fit was willing to give him and would do anything to make that happen.
Pac sucked in a breath and put on his most winning smile, calling on every ounce of false confidence and shear bullshit he could muster with a moment’s notice. The younger man trusted that Fit wasn’t playing a game and just looking to get laid, he could have had Pac anytime he wanted so this must have been a test, one that Pac was determined to pass.
“Boa tarde Missa! Fitch was right, I want to schedule a removal please, for my Implanon as soon as possible!” He spat out, barreling over the Mexicans polite greeting in his haste to finish the test and claim his prize, every second he wasn’t on Fit’s cock was precious time wasted in his mind.
“Woa woah woah, hold on Pac, why do you want it out so suddenly? Esto no es propio de ti! Has it broken the skin? Are you hurt?!?!” Missa fretted, working himself up into a panic and pacing around his office loudly enough the Pac could hear the sharp slap of his rubber shoes on the linoleum and the soft jingle of the many little charms Phil and Kristen dressed him up in.
“noa man, I’m fine, I just want it out” He insisted, putting as much steel behind his tone as he could when dealing with the sweet and delicate doctor, it was so hard to me mean to Missa, he was one of the better people Pac had ever met.
“Ah Pac that’s….Dios como digo esto…you want to swap to the pill? Or maybe schedule in for the shot?” Missa asked, scrambling on the other side of the phone for a pen, papers falling and draws slamming in his search.
Pac let out a frustrated little huff, nearly snatching the phone from Fit so he could really get his point across to the other man. “No, I just want it out, please Missa? Or should we call someone else?”
“We?! Like you and Fit are….oh, oh! Pac um, yes yes! I can get it out ju-”
Missa’s voice, rapidly raising in pitch as the other man finally got what Pac was planning suddenly cut off as Fit took the phone back, setting it against his ear and humming softly, letting their neighbor ramble on until he ran out of steam, finally cutting him off and ending the call with a briskly uttered “Thanks Missa, we really owe you one for this, I’ll swing round to Phil’s with a batch of jerky as thanks – so a week from tomorrow? Yeah, we’ll be back in town by then. Give Kristen and the kids my love and Phil a kick in the ass, we’ll see you later.”
Fit ended the call before Missa could launch into another panicked rant and a bought of tears as he was prone to do, disconnecting with an audible beep.
Pac waited eagerly for Fit to drop the phone but instead he was pushed to lean back, one of Fit’s warm broad hands on the center of his sternum, the other holding up his phone, little red light beside the camera letting Pac know that Fit had the photo app open, ready to either record Pac or to snap some quick shots, with the cowboys penchant for photography it could be either, they had a million and one photos and videos around the house of anything and everything that took the bald man’s fancy but the most prominently displayed ones were of Fit’s favorite things, his family, friends and the Farm.
Pac flushed at the realization the Fit was going to immortalize this moment in one way or another, his cheeks-stained wine red as the reality of it all set it.
“Now Fitchi…what are you doing with the camera?” He hesitated to ask, equal parts afraid and excited for whatever his roommate intended.
“Just a little bit of a memento, something for me to look back on for our first time sugar pie.” Fit’s voice, honey smooth and dark as whisky sent sparks of want right to Pac’s already heated core, making him whimper, rocking up against Fit, teeth sunk into his lip.
“Memento? You don’t see enough of me at home Fit?” He asked, teasingly tightening his leg around Fit’s waist, foot tapping on his ass, the other leg spreading more to the side, giving Fit a better view of his wet cunt and sodden panties.
“Oh, Pac these won’t be hung up in the house, I’ll be keeping them for myself”
“Yourself? Then what the po-AH!” Pac squealed as Fit reached down with his free hand, fisting the damp fabric of Pac’s panties by the waistband and pulling back until the delicate fabric tore away from his body, practically disintegrating under Fit’s grip only to be held high right where the camera would catch a good shot of his ruined panties.
“The point Darlin’ is that I can do this.” Fit took care to dangle the torn panties high and lower the camera for a good shot of Pac’s pink cunt, smooth and soft as silk, glistening with arousal before tossing his phone away and bringing the black lace to his face, pressing it against his strong angular nose and taking a deep breath.
His eyelids fluttered shut as the scent of Pac’s cunt and slick flooded his senses, nearly overwhelming him, Fit’s cock giving a throb of want when he ground down into Pac’s cunt, the younger able to feel it even through the heavy denim fabric.
“God that’s the good stuff, it’s so much better fresh” Fit gasped, grinding his face into his prize and giving a full body shudder, desperate as an addict taking his first hit in weeks.
Pac nearly missed the comment as every drop of blood rushed to his cock, all inch and a half of hard-won bottom growth throbbing with aching desire.
“What do you mean Fit? What’s better fresh?”
He asked with a sneaking suspicion, his panties had been going missing for years, sometimes circling back into his washing weeks later but the more delicate sets he wore when having a night to himself almost never reappeared, Pac thought they had just been chewed up by the washing machine, but it was starting to look like they had been stolen rather than lost.
With a half-muttered curse Fit pulled the panties down enough that Pac could see the look of shame crossing his handsome face, Fit mumbling into the fabric so softly Pac could hardly hear him.
“Fit I can’t hear you, you gotta say again or I’ll stop” Pac pouted, following through on his threat by flopping against the couch and leaving himself underestimated, prosthetic knee angled in to hide his glistening pink folds.
“I said, I took some of your old panties when you finished with them, but I like the smell better fresh” Fit growled, grip on the lace tightening as he admitted to his frankly creepy behavior.
Pac couldn’t help but laugh, giggling as Fit grumbled out his confession.
“Don’t worry Fitchi, I took your undies too!” He crowed, wiggling a little and trying to draw Fit back down for another kiss.
His attempts were unsuccessful when Fit peered at him with gleaming hazel eyes, still keeping the panties up and indulging in the scent of Pac’s arousal.
“Yeah, I know? You wear them to bed, that’s not the problem here Pac, I’ve been taken yours and using them to…you know, get off” The Americans cheeks were so bright red at the admission that Pac wasn’t sure how Fit still had blood fueling his erection.
“I know Fitchi, I do the same~” Pac crooned, licking his lips at the memory of the many pairs of boxers he had stolen and used to help move things along, the smell of Fit driving his fantasies.
Fit’s eyes lit up, sharp white grin visible behind the shear lace, all embarrassment forgotten.
“You do? Now that’s a sweet little bit of fofoca, any other nasty little secrets you have for me pumpkin?”
He hummed, considering all the frankly inappropriate things he had done since they started living together and sharing a bed, Pac had taken many liberties, far more that what could be considered platonic and Fit had done the same but what sprang to mind in that moment was what he did when Fit was sleeping, something he had caught Fit awake for at least once.
“When you’re sleeping I like to play with your cock, it’s so big Fitchi….I just can’t help getting you off when you sleep in, it’s so fun watching you cum in your pants!”
“Oh hoho! You naughty boy! No wonder I’ve been waking up messy since you moved in.”
“Just can’t help myself daddy, you get so calm and sleepy and feels too good to stop at just one!” he pouted, bottom lip trembling and eyes shining with faux sadness, Pac having to swallow down more giggles as Fit dropped to his knees between Pac’s leg’s, panties forgotten in favor of looking worshipfully up at his roommate.
“Can’t possibly be as good as you feel when I’m rubbing up against you…or those little sounds you make when you cum on my thigh” Fit rested his head against Pac’s thighs, beard ticking the bare skin, tongue poking out to wet his dry lips.
“Looks like we’ve been just as bad as each other ay fitch?”
“That a problem for you sweetheart?” Fit purred, inching his way closer to Pac’s core, his hot breath wafting over the slick folds, making Pac whimper.
“A-ah noa, no I like being bad with you” he stuttered, swinging wildly between overconfident and embarrassed as all his fantasies came true right in front of him. Reaching out to do something, he wasn’t sure what so long as he could touch Fit’s warm skin.
Fit got to him first, grabbing his trembling hand out of the air and drawing it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss across Pac’s knuckles, holding him there for a moment as their eyes locked together.
“Pac…” Fit pulled back from this kiss, hesitating for a moment before leaning in and brushing his lips over the slick pink folds teasing him, Pac’s cock jumping to attention as Fit’s beard tickled his pink lips.
“Ah! Y-yeah?” He gasped, struggling to stay still as Fit’s tongue began to swipe along his bare folds, lapping up the slick spilt across them as he worked up to the shining red jewel usually nested in a thick nest of dark hair but left exposed to both the cold air and Fit’s attention tonight, freshly waxed and smooth as silk, the larger man pressing a burning kiss on his target, waiting a second before taking the tender bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucking, working his tongue over it and circling the hood and pushing it further back to reveal more of the flushed pink flesh until Pac mewled, jerking into Fit’s mouth until the other pulled away, pressing down on Pac’s hip to keep him still.
“Come on Paqie, I can’t get a good mouth full if you don’t stay still, now be good for Daddy.” Fit taunted before diving back in, mouth flush with Pac’s hole, the stretched ring of muscles fluttering around the tongue that flicked against it, teasing the rim.
“I’m- ngah-ah I’m trying!” he stuttered, hips betraying his pleasure and twitching up.
Pac felt the older man smirk into his cunt, teeth trailing over the sensitive inner folds, nipping along the labia and back out to lay a line of bites across his right thigh, stopping to leave half a dozen or more kisses right where the supple skin met his prosthetic, becoming hard plastic and a protective sleeve, focusing on each of the long jagged surgical scars from where broken skin had been stretched and sewn back together, no longer an angry, gnarled red but a faded, almost pearl pink that ached fiercely during the winter or whenever Pac spent too long on his feet, over exerting himself
Fit’s kisses burned where they were laid down, a trail of fire leading from his cunt back down as his roommate returned to his prize, nosing against Pac’s clit before blowing a cool breath of air over his most sensitive parts, eyes alight with desire as the swollen bundle of nerves twitched in response.
“You like that sweetheart? Or do you need more?” he asked, looking up at Pac with a cheeky smile on his face, lips and beard wet with Pac’s juices.
“Mais! Mais por favor querido, please!” He demanded, grabbing a hold of Fit’s green shirt and trying to drag him up, succeeding in getting the larger man halfway up his chest and level with his breasts.
Fit was momentarily distracted by the tits now practically shoved into his face, nipples still peaked and showing through the thin lace cups, piercings catching on the fabric as Pac’s chest heaved. The American swallowed down the twisting knot of arousal and mindless lust that threatened to overwhelm him.
“My mouth not good enough for you baby?” he taunted; deep voice breathy with the effort to control himself.
“It is! I just need more, please Fitchi I’m so empty, I need you” Pac wailed, more desperate than a cat in heat.
“Don’t worry Darlin’, I’ll fill you up, give you what you need.” Fit growled, suddenly shooting to his feet, looming over Pac for a moment before grabbing Pac around the hips and lifting, flipping them around in one smooth motion like Pac weighed nothing. Fit sat back, taking his place on the couch, ignoring the little damp spot where Pac’s slick had soaked into the fabric.
With a squeak of surprise Pac was settled onto Fit’s lap, strong hands adjusting his legs, so they sat comfortably on either side of the elder, Fit’s hand resting snugly on his right hip to help support Pac’s weight, keeping it off his false leg. His arms wound around Fit’s shoulders to steady himself further, Pac’s tits now poised perfectly in Fit’s face, cunt bare and aching, left untouched as he hovered in in place, thighs rubbing against leather and denim in a delicious combination that left Pac drooling both slick and spit.
Fit kissed sweetly across the sharp square of Pac’s jaw line and up to the sensitive path of skin just under his ear where he rested his lips, whispering sweet praise.
“Did you like that baby? When daddy picks you up and treats you like his little dolly?” Fit purred, thumbing over one long raised surgical scar, Pac’s skin tingling with the myriads of conflicting sensations, the rope Fit had just used in his run bunched up against the arm rest and digging into Pac’s side adding just enough pain to fan the fires in his core into a furnace ready to forge iron, stretched hole fluttering around nothing as Pac tried to grind down on Fit’s denim clothed erection.
“mhmm, I’d like it better if daddy gave me what I wanted.” He whined, bottom lip sticking out in a sweet pout that had Fit laughing, leaning down to nip sharply at the plump lip teasing him, a berry ripe for the picking and just as sweet.
“That’s right Darlen, you wanted daddy raw, didn’t you?”
Pac nodded eagerly, wanting so badly to feel every bump and vein on Fit’s monstrous cock without having to hide, to have a load of warm cum filling his belly and soothing the ache more than half a decade in the making.
With a smirk Fit lent in, connecting their lips again, wind chapped against silk smooth. Pac sunk happily into the kiss, tongue swiping out across Fit’s lips, begging for entrance with a sweet mewl that his cowboy happily granted.
Pac’s tongue dove into the others mouth, wasting no time in exploring, he was so deeply distracted by the slick glide of their tongues twining together that he didn’t notice Fit’s hand moving off his hip and gathering something at the bigger man’s side until it was too late.
Quick as lightning and mean as a snake Fit had something in his hand and around Pac’s left wrist before he could realize what was happening, stretching it behind his back and just as quick as the first the left wrist was ensnared, rope pulled taunt against the thin skin.
Pac hissed in surprise as it forced him to arch back, Fit yanking on what Pac realized with a throb of heat between his legs was the pigging string that not even an hour ago had been around the ankles of a calf while Fit threw it down in the sand.
He whimpered, trying to yank his hands apart as Fit trailed kisses down his neck and across the lace covered swell of his breasts, wiry beard tickling the skin, leaving swaths of red skin where he kissed, Pac’s chest rising and falling as he panted, squeaking out a confused “Qu-ue? What you are doing with that Fitch?”
“Do you trust me baby?” Fit asked, voice suddenly tinged with something Pac couldn’t quite identify, soft around the edges but brittle inside, ready to crack like already brittle glass into a million fragile pieces.
Pac’s heart stopped; the next breath caught in his throat.
What kind of question was that? of course Pac trusted the American! No one knew more about him than Mike and there wasn’t a day of Pac’s life he remembered without his best friend by his side.
Some part of the question stung, a needle sliding between his ribs and sunk into the tender meat of his heart, Pac trusted Fit with his everything, Trusted the older man enough to seek him out when his bones felt like they had been broken all over again or when the nightmares consumed him, iron and fear cloying his tongue, tears streaking down his cheeks.
He frowned, eyes flicking over Fit’s face, every line and crease etched into his memory and just as precious as the faces of his children, Ramon and Richarlyson.
Instead of the lusty, awe struck look Fit had cemented on his handsome face since arriving in the RV, he now looked almost afraid, lips pulled tight in a strained natural expression, eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners.
“Fitch...” Pac hesitated, clasping his hands together to ease some of the tension in his shoulders as he committed every line of Fits face to memory all over again, wishing he had a hand free to lovingly cup the face he saw not only in his waking hours but that also haunted his dreams, to stroke a thumb across the dark scruff as he comforted his roommate, assuring him of the truth of Pac’s feelings.
“Of course I trust you, with my whole heart, with everything and more Fit.” He insisted, hunching forwards, and rising up on his knee, Fit still helping to support his weight and guiding his other side so that Pac could rest his forehead against Fit’s, the two men sharing breath and heat as the truth sank in, more than just the thrill and arousal but the underlying ocean of love that had been drip fed until it could consume them, feelings long festering between the two men that could no longer be hidden.
Fit cleared his throat and blinked away the glossy shine of tears, overwhelmed by the swelling emotions.
“Trust me enough to tie you up sweetheart?” Fit asked, gently tugging on the pigging string, causing it to tighten around Pac’s wrists.
“Pft, Fitch I trust you enough to cut out my stupid birth control, I think we can handle a little rope play; Besides, I know exactly what that handkerchief color means Mr Stud and I’ve seen your whole collection” He grinned, gently bumping his forehead against Fit’s as the man under him looked up with stars in his hazel eyes.
“What?! you know what the colors mean?” Fit yelped, voice high pitched and tight with anxiety, all his filthy kinks exposed by the rainbow of handkerchiefs Pac had seen folded neatly in his wardrobe.
“Every. Single. One” Pac smirked, whispering the meaning of each color he had found into Fit’s ear like a dirty secret.
“Grey for bondage, Light Blue to get your pretty cock sucked, Mustard Yellow for the sheer size of that monster, White velvet because you like to watch, Black velvet for your little film kink and of course red.” He paused, emphasizing the last word, letting it hang in the air, Fit almost panting with excitement as Pac drew it out, head lolling back to really show off the red neckerchief still tied snuggly around his neck.
“Red, for getting your big fists in tight little holes” If Pac had his hands free he would have tugged the cherry red fabric around his neck to really drive it home, even without the reminder Fit’s eyes flicked down, first to Pac’s love bitten lips than to the damming evidence around his own throat, Fit had tied it himself that morning, Grip on the rope and his hip tightening as thoughts raced through the handsome man’s bald head.
“Fuck Pac, you knew, all this time?” Croaked the elder, hips straining to rut up against Pac’s wet cunt, like a bitch in heat, eyes gone black with lust.
“Why do you think I pick this color every time? Only half to match you my cachorrinho bobo, was trying to get it in your thick skull that I wanted to be more than just Roommates.” He stressed. Practically tasting the tension between them.
Fit laughed, short and sweet before surging forward, seeking out Pac’s lip’s again in a clumsy kiss, spit and cherry lip-gloss smeared around into a mess that Fit’s tongue lapped over as he jerked up, releasing the pigging string to fumble for one of Pac’s tender breasts, barely a handful in his huge, rough paw, squeezing as he damn near choked Pac on his tongue, lapping around the others mouth until Pac had to pull back gasping for air, Fit chasing after him to firmly plant another kiss against his swollen lips.
“God your perfect, you know that. Everything a man could dream of and more.” Fit insisted, slipping a warm hand under the shear lace and groping bare flesh, thumb flicking over his peaked nipple and the gold ring, toying with it as Pac stuttered a half-formed string of Portuguese and English.
“Ah, porra, sim! Yes yes, more, mais disso por favor meu amado!” Pac begged, torn between the many sensations, leather and denim between his legs, Fit’s hands on his tit and hip and the burn of the rope wrapped tight around his wrist.
“Yeah baby, anything you need, just let me get you all tied up pretty, ok?” Fit murmured, stroking over his hip as Pac nodded like a bobblehead, going limp and pliant for Fit to pose however he wanted.
A perfect little Doll.
Chapter 3: Three to get ready
Notes:
Sorry for the delay, depression is a bitch and nice comments fuel me.
Chapter Text
The older man wasted no more time, freeing his hand from Pac’s lacy bra and pushing down on the centre of his chest, guiding Pac to lean further and further back until he was satisfied with the angle, trailing rough fingers down Pac’s exposed stomach before letting go of his damaged leg for the first time since he captured Pac on his lap, the custom prosthetic easily holding his weight while Fit’s right hand grabbed at the Brazilians flesh and bone ankle, the left bringing his wrists down and loosening the pigging string so it could be slipped around both ankle and wrists before being pulled taunt again and tied in place.
Pac, now arched with his hands tied to one ankle whimpered, realizing he was bound similarly to the poor calf Fit had just run against, the thought of being wrestled down and pinned properly sparking another wave of slick heat, Pac’s poor unsatisfied cunt having leaked enough slick to leave a rapidly spreading wet spot on Fit’s blue jeans.
“Now look at that Pac you're pretty as a picture…” Fit hummed, releasing Pac’s limbs, leaving the rough rope to hold him in place, one strong hand going back to support Pac’s weak side as Fit fished around for his phone, quickly snapping another picture of the sight that his lover made, unable to resist.
“Wish I had my proper camera” Fit toyed with the phones setting, trying to get the best shot with the devices limited capabilities and the poor lighting.
Eventually he gave up with a huff, setting his phone off to the side and grumbling as he moved to gently untie Pac’s neckerchief, the knot he tied that morning coming undone under his fingers and his alone, Pac wouldn’t let anyone else take that mark from him bar his American who set the square of fabric aside with much more care than his own phone.
“When we get home baby, you can take as many pictures as you like, set me up all proper and pretty like you want” Pac promised, giving an eager wiggle, his eyebrows flashing, dark eyes dancing with mischief.
Fit’s cheeks turned a ruddy red under his dark beard, flush traveling down under the handkerchief and further, Pac knew from seeing Fit shirtless around the house that it went nearly all the way down his chest, His American stud blushed such a sweet red that Pac couldn’t resist letting out a wanton moan, laying it on thick in hopes of seeing more of that pretty blush.
Fit growled at the sound that left Pac’s lips, fumbling as he stuck a hand between them to get at his cock, buttons practically flying off in his haste to free his member. his thick cock sprang up, ever the eager stallion, the flushed tip smacking against Pac’s twitching cocklet, the younger man going stiff and crying out at the sudden attention, it far more stimulating than the monster can he had fucked himself on earlier, Pac couldn't help but grind against the spongy tip, getting as much friction as he could manage while still trussed up like a Christmas turkey.
“That’s it, that’s a proper sound baby, none of that fake porno shit.” Fit sounded almost upset, a poorly hidden snarl curling at the edge of each word, like something had put him off, Pac stiffened, the tone jolting him out of the lust drenched haze he had so quickly sunk into.
“Fake? How'd you know I was faking that sound?” He probed carefully, head tilted at a questioning angle, pitiful whine on his lips. Most men loved his porn star moan, it almost never failed to fan the flames, men becoming eager dogs drooling at his cunt, begging him for just one taste of heaven.
“What? You don’t think I know exactly what you sound like after six years of sharing a bed? Bounced your ‘sleeping’ self on my knee enough to know exactly what a genuine moan from my Brazilian boyfriend sounds like.”
Pac squirmed, barely able to contain his excitement at the title, it was so silly how being called Fit’s boyfriend made him feel like a schoolgirl on their first date.
“Sorry Fitchi, only the real stuff for my American boyfriend, I promise.” He insisted, starting to work his hips in small circles to rub up and down the length of Fit’s erection, an apology and invitation all in one, delighting in all eight and a half inches of prime Italian American sausage, Pac knew its shape well from his sneaky night time explorations but the feeling of it firsthand against his hungry cunt while Fit watched with open desire was a whole other experience, it somehow felt bigger than it had ever been before, the younger man wasn’t ashamed to admit he had gone as far as to measure it during one particularly sweltering summer where Fit couldn't resist sleeping naked to stave off some of the heat, his deep sleep allowing Pac all the access he needed with a hastily acquired tape measure.
“That’s what I want to hear sweetheart, now those ropes ain't too tight are they?” Fit’s strong fingers dug into his hip, concern lacing his whiskey deep voice as his free hand tugged the ropes, testing their strength.
“Nah it's fine” Pac gave another little wriggle to show he could still move everything, tapping his fingers and toes to check the circulation. Smiling at Fit’s unnecessary worry, his big man was always more of a mother hen than any kind of macho cowboy stereotype made him out to be.
“Good, but I need to run over one more thing before we can play proper, ok sweetheart?” Fit asked, raising up his hips to help Pac get the stimulation he so desperately needed, shuddering as slick spread over his weeping cock, making the glide far smoother than it had any right to be without proper lube.
“What’s that, meu vaqueiro?” He asked, breathless as Fit teased him with the thick head of his cock, running it through his slick folds, letting it butt up against Pac’s little cocklet again.
“You know the color light system? I need you to promise you will use it ok. Green for good, Yellow for us to ease up or check in and Red is a hard stop.” The American insisted, punctuating each color with a searing kiss across Pac’s heaving chest, a fine dusting of glitter gathered on his love bruised lips from all the attention.
Pac considered Fit’s colors, humming low in his throat, It was a familiar system, standard basic rules in the community and he was more than pleased that Fit had taken the time to check in with him, insuring they would both be as safe as possible, his Fitchi was always one to worry about the fine details but something still niggled at his gut, worming through his mind, touching every thought and invading it with almost sinister intent.
“What if I say ‘stop’ but I really want you to keep going?” Pac asked, hesitant and wary of Fit’s reaction. Not every man was happy with that request, plenty of them stepped out right then and there, unwilling to test the hard limit and take him against his will despite Pac’s need to be broken, treated like a slab of meat freshly carved from the body and dressed up for sale, paraded out to be used and abused like he deserved.
With a shuddering breath Fit grabbed Pac’s chin breaking him out of his thoughts, thumbing over the sharp square of his jaw, eyes full of love and dark with lust.
“I would say that we need a special word for that, one that means keep going but pretend it means stop, even with that you still need to respect the proper “Red” word, for both of us, right Darlen?”
Excitement raced through him, heart beating at a breakneck pace. Fit would let him play that game. Pin him down, taking and taking until Pac had nothing left to give, face alight with love Pac nipped at Fit’s lips, teasing him with the promise of another kiss.
“Yes yes! I can do that! Swear on the boys!” He squealed, bouncing a little in place, arms still tied to his flesh and blood ankle, stretching his back and keeping his chest arched for Fit’s pleasure.
“How about ‘rosso’? It’s just red in Italian but that’s not something either of us speak around the house.” Fit suggested, mulling the possibilities over.
Without a moment’s hesitation Pac agreed, nodding fervently and grinding down on Fit’s throbbing erection, more than ready to ride the roller coaster, to get that thick cock balls deep inside him and drain every drop of cum now that the rules had been squared away.
“No love, I need verbal consent on this one.” Fit insisted, stroking a line down Pac’s pulse, feeling it flutter and jump under his hot touch.
Pac signed, exasperated at the drawn-out list of conditions the cowboy had for him, ignoring the fact that they hadn’t even talked about boundaries or kinks.
“Sim sim, if I want you to pretend to stop I say ‘rosso’ but if I really need to stop or you do it's just ‘Red.’ Now can we please get to the proper fun stuff!” he bit out, near snarling at the constant denial of his well earned prize.
“Alright love! Calma calma Pac, that should be everything at least for now, we can have a proper talk about it and maybe a baby when you’re not wet enough to soak my jeans and can actually think straight.”
“Not going to change my mind about a nene for us, handsome. How long have we been playing around each other?” Pac purred, hands twitching as he tried, uselessly, to grab at Fit’s pretty face, his wrists tightly bound preventing him from getting to his target.
“We waited long enough, haven’t we, sweetheart?” Fit laughed, pressing forward and slotting his chapped lip’s back against Pac’s, the two of them fitting together like lock and key, not born a perfect pair but worked at with all the blood sweat and tears a relationship forged from respect and friendship deserved.
Hot breath ghosted across Pac’s lips as Fit lent in, licking the last remnants of citrus and cherry from Pac’s plump lips, pink tongue making a neat little circle of his own mouth, swiping up the faint sheen of gloss that had transferred over to Fit, hardly visible against his dark beard.
The kiss started sweet, as all things between them did than grew more heated as they dove head first into each other, tongues dancing, not a battle for dominance but the coming together of long awaited lovers, six years spent pining for on another coming to a head as Fit’s hand travelled down Pac’s lithe body and leaving a trail of lightning in his wake, caressing the well-defined muscles of his stomach while the cowboy burned every inch of bronzed skin to memory, seared in the fires of passion on its way down.
Thick calluses from all the hard work Fit did on the farm and from his time in the saddle added an extra touch of pleasure as the elder took his time exploring. Sweet words spilled out of Fit’s mouth as he pulled back, panting softly with a dazed look to his eyes while his hand slid past Pac’s cocklet, stroking its length before moving down the final few inches to wrap tightly around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to make him moan.
Fit gave his member a few quick pumps, thumbing pearls of pre down the length to lube himself, mixing with Pac’s excitement to ease the slide, rough fingers not able to meet around its girth, nearly as thick and long as a can of Monster. Pac whimpered, desperate to get his hands on it without the fear of his big bald man waking in the middle of it.
A gasp left Pac’s bitten lips when Fit gently guided the tip to press against Pac’s slick stretched hole, pushing in and straining the tight ring of muscles that blocked him from getting more than the weeping tip in. Heat surrounded Fit as he groaned, the muscles in his neck corded and straining while Fit struggled to keep himself in check, hips rising to press millimeter after agonizing millimeter in until the muscle gave way, letting the bulbous tip of Fits erection slide in, Pac’s mouth opening in a silent shriek, walls stretching to accommodate the sudden girth, his earlier preparations not nearly enough to make the much wanted intrusion entirely painless.
Fit hissed, pulling back and taking Pac’s weight onto himself, both hands wrapped comfortingly on Pac’s waist to lift him slightly, his rim catching on the head of Fit’s cock as the elder tried to ease his pain.
“Shit, sorry baby, I’ll make it all better” He crooned, kissing away Pac’s whimpers of pain, taking the brunt of Pac’s weight onto his stronger right arm, sliding it under Pac’s plush rump almost like a seat as the left came up to tease Pac’s cocklet, tight circles traced around its swollen base, pushing back the hood and toying with it, smoothing the folds of skin back down when Pac shivered, little whimpers turning into soft mewls with Fit’s skilful hands taking him apart, warm mouth trailing a string of kisses, each more precious than a pearl down his chest to mouth at a lace covered nipple.
The elder moaned under his breath, teeth catching on scant lace and tugging on the cup, Fit’s clever fingers slipping out from between them and up Pac’s back, neatly trimmed nails skimming over smooth skin until they met his bra strap. Fit fumbled around, looking for the clasp before Pac panted out a desperate- “Fr-ont, it's ah-at the front!”
A whisper of approval and praise fell from Fits lip’s as he slid a slick hand around to the front, flicking each of the hidden clasps between Pac’s heaving breasts until they snapped open, the swell of his chest bursting free, Fit’s eyes zeroing in on his nipples, the perfect match to Pac’s kiss bruised lips, peaked and straining in the cold air.
“That's it, good boy, show me those pretty little tits” Fit muttered as he took one peaked nipple into his hungry mouth, sucking it past his lips and humming in approval, eyes sliding closed as the familiar sensation washed over him. This was far more sexual than any other time Fit had taken Pac’s breasts into his warm mouth, in the past it had been for comfort, like a babe seeking out it’s mothers soothing teat, pleasure already beginning to coil in his gut as Fit worked circles over the peaked bud, teeth grazing sensitive skin before retreating
Fit’s hand sank back down to fiddle with his t-dick, tongue laving over Pac’s nipple, flicking the gold hoop back and forth, catching it between sharp teeth and tugging it as he relaxed his hold, letting Pac slide down a little, the head of his thick cock popping back in all the way, Fit’s attentions having paved the way for an easier stretch, the burn fanning the fires in his gut into a raging inferno, all-consuming and eating away at his insides. From there it only took one sharp tug of the nipple ring for Pac to moan Fit’s name, the tight coil of pleasure building to a peak and snapping under Fit’s attention.
Pac came with a cry, tight hole clamping down and fluttering wildly around the tip of his lover’s thick cock, Fit felt him cum with a shudder, breaking off from Pac’s nipple with an audibly wet ‘pop’, licking the spit from his lips and giving Pac a moment to come down from his high, fingers gone still as the smaller man panted, breathless, face flushed with pleasure.
“There we go~ that better isn’t it Darlen?” Fit cooed, kissing under the arch of Pac’s breasts, each press of his lips leaving a burning brand in its path, seared into Pac’s soft skin until he could feel it burning a hole into his very being.
Pac nodded along, a steady purr building in his chest as Fit began to ease up, letting him slide down the length, each inch seemed more than he could take, every bump and vein carving out a place inside him, walls fluttering still with the aftershocks of his first proper orgasm of the day, hardly enough to scratch the itch but good enough to get things moving again.
He stopped halfway down when Pac winced, Fit noticing before the younger could even make a sound of pain or protest, taking Pac’s weight again and giving him a moment to rest.
With clever fingers Fit moved down from the tender bundle of nerves he had lavished with attention to rub soothing circles into the taunt skin of Pac’s hole, stretched nearly to its limits around the thick member, easing the ache and slowly burying another inch into Pac’s vice tight cunt.
“Can you give me a colour sweetheart?” Fit panted with the strain of keeping himself still, teeth skimming over the arch of Pac’s chest.
“Deus, porra, verde, eu sou green!” He snarled, squirming against Fit’s hold, trying to get those last three inches he so desperately needed to fill him, Fit’s cock far better than any oversized toy he had ever gotten his hands on, it was not the biggest thing he had ever taken, Fits cock was large but it didn’t quite compare to the exquisite agony of a fist pummelling his core but it was the best cock he had had splitting him open and Pac needed more.
Fit groaned his approval, switching back to just a single hand on his hip, helping to support his prosthetic, beard scratching down Pac’s sculpted stomach, making him whine, nearly distracting him from Fit’s sudden sharp grin as he thrust up, once, twice and a third time, each powerful movement sinking another inch into the youngers cunt until he hilted, finally flush with Pac and filling him completely.
Another whine slipped out of Pac’s bruised lips as he panted, taking a moment to rest, speared on Fit’s manhood, taking a few deep steadying breaths while Fit tried to distract him from the pain of being filled without proper preparation by lavishing Pac’s long, elegantly arched neck with more kisses, lips pursed to suck a ring of bruises until he was left with a dark necklace, a visible claim that would barely be hidden by his neckerchief, his cunt clenching, trying to force the intrusion out but only making his heat tighter, trapping Fit deep inside him.
“Shh, its ok love, just take a moment” Fit soothed, rubbing a slick covered hand over his good thigh, tracing idle patterns that Pac thought might have been words, He tried to sit up and look at what Fit was writing but the pigging string kept him bent over backwards unable to get a good look over the swell of his tits, piercings shining in the artificial light, still wet from Fit’s earlier attention and gone a flushed dusky pink that matched his raw and bitten lips.
Pac was sure he made quite a sight right now, lace bra hanging loosely around his shoulders, a ring of Fit’s kisses around his neck and trailing across his chest, collar bone and his under bust, hands tied to one ankle with his back bent like he’d been caught arching back in pleasure, speared on Fit’s cock. The cowboy was still fully dressed in his riding gear, only having spared the time so get his cock out, the only other stitch of clothing still on the Brazilian was Fit’s hat, firmly planted on his head right where it belonged. he almost wished Fit would take out his camera again but that would mean stopping and he couldn’t bare the thought of that.
A muffled curse broke from Fit’s mouth as Pac rose up on his knees before dropping himself back down, only getting an inch or so up the length before his bound wrists stopped him rising any higher, the drag of thick veins against his core making the thinner man shudder in delight, all pain from the earlier stretching buried under a thick vale of arousal.
“Wait a second Pac! Give a man some warning” Fit all but yelped, not expecting his lover to take things into his own hands so soon, the elder man wanting to just enjoy the feeling of soaking in the pleasure of Pac’s warm cunt, enjoying the intimacy of being joined together for the first time despite his cock twitching eagerly, warring with himself between sating his carnal desires or his heart.
“Querido that was your warning” A nearly cruel smile grew over Pac’s face, plump lips pulled up at the corners as he rocked forward, the rounded tip of Fit’s cock brushing against his cervix, starbursts of pain and pleasure exploding behind his eyes, the younger had never been able to get something so perfectly flush with his core, the masochist inside him howling in utter bliss as his arms shook from a combination of strain and desire flowing through him.
“Now fuck me like you promised silly man!” He demanded, jerking his hips up into Fit’s, twitching cocklet grinding against the soft paunch of his stomach, once a tight washboard of abs now softened by years of care and home cooking. Pac’s desperate movements bunching Fit’s shirt up, exposing his stomach and the fine dark hairs of his happy trail, giving Pac another texture to work his clit along.
“For you my darlin? Anything.” Fit shuddered, breathless in the face of his lovers demands, growling low in his throat as he grabbed hold of Pac’s plush thighs, careful to take hold high enough that he wasn’t putting stress on the damaged side, using his considerable strength to lift Pac up, sliding him off until just the tip rested at his gaping entrance, Pac squealing in protest as Fit dragged against his insides, leaving him empty and wanting.
Fit hushed his beloved, trapping them in a breathless kiss as he thrust up, hips rising to meet Pac’s, cock sliding back to the hilt in on smooth motion, carving its way through Pac’s insides and rubbing up against the little spongy bundle of nerves that had him singing Fit’s praise, headless of how loud he was Pac cried out in ecstasy, Fit’s face buried in the Brazilians tit’s as he hammered home, teeth skimming over soft flesh and teasing at the peaked nipples, presented so prettily for him until he bit down on one, leaving a deep impression of his teeth, refusing to unlatch until Pac begged for mercy.
“Fitch fitchi please!” Pac keened, thrashing against the ropes binding his wrists, trying desperately to get Fit to pull back, the American popping off with a cheeky smirk, hips still rising in a steady rhythm, keeping Pac bouncing even as he struggled to talk
“What was that baby? You want me to stop?” Fit crooned, nipping across the peak of Pac’s breasts to emphasize his point, breathing calmly, like he wasn’t juggling Pac’s weight like it was nothing.
“Nnngh!” He whined, wordless, eyes rolling back as pressure began to build in his gut, heat flushing his cheeks as Fit laughed.
“Does it hurt Princess, do you have a colour for me?” The American asked, smirking against Pac’s plush breasts, fingers digging into his thighs, leaving marks only they would see.
“No no no, I want green! mais por favor!” Pac insisted, shaking his head, slick walls clamping down on Fit like a vice, refusing to let go.
“That's what I wanted to hear baby, you were just playing silly games with daddy, pretend you couldn’t take it, my cock hungry little slut~”
Pac protested with a whine, squeezing his thighs together around Fit’s to try and anchor himself, Fit still sheathed fully inside him.
“Not playing a game! It hurt.” He insisted, Fit’s dark chuckle only adding to the pool of molten arousal swelling in his gut.
“Really? Well, if it’s not a game I won’t bother stopping next time, you’ll use the colors or I’ll think you don’t really want me to stop, understand Paqi?” Fit insisted, hammering home the seriousness of the situation with a sharp thrust, making Pac cry out as his cock struck deep, driving into the spongy bundle of nerves that made him see stars.
His priority was keeping them both safe rather than chasing his own or even Pac’s pleasure.
Fit would never be able to forgive himself if he truly hurt Pac.
Accidental or otherwise.
Pac nodded wildly, nothing more than a pretty bobble head speared on Fit’s cock, like a prize to be sat and showed off to his adoring fans, something Fit was sure Pac would have done in the past much to his excitement.
He was briefly distracted by the fantasy of his beautiful Brazilian displayed, hips stilling so the other was left without proper stimulation, only Fit’s thick cock keeping him speared, unsatisfied.
Pac was a prize that Fit had earned through years of devotion and adoration, something that others could look at but never again touch.
The cowboy was certain he wasn’t really deserving of such a man as the one sat writhing uselessly on his manhood, hips jerking in tight circles as the younger desperately tries to bring himself to the finish line while Fit moans, head lolling back at the thought of taking Pac in the centre ring, an adoring crowd gathered to see his beloved fall apart.
Pac gave up on trying to get himself off with an irritated whine, squeezing Fit between his thighs until the elder acknowledge him with a pleased hum, dark eyes raking over Pac’s chest, still heaving in frustration, cocklet straining between flushed folds for the barest touch.
The American snapped back to himself with a grunt, hips jerking up to get his lover bouncing again
A cacophony of groans and grunts filled the trailer as the two rocked together, the swell of Pac’s chest bouncing in Fit’s face, unable to help himself, the American took one peaked bud into his mouth, tongue swirling, gathering the musky taste of his lovers sweat and the sweet taste of his darkened skin.
Teetering on the edge of his rapidly approaching peak Pac whimpered “por favor?” dark eyes shining up at Fit with a glaze of unshed tears.
Fits heart, usually so steady stuttered in his chest, a vice latching around his core and tightening until it was unbearable, he couldn’t bring himself to deny the others please despite how beautiful he looked with tears pooling in those ink dark eyes.
“Yeah Pac, whatever you need baby” He grunted, picking up the pace, his sole focus on bringing Pac to the finish line.
“You, just you meu amor” Pac whined, voice threaded with something deeper than lust, tinted red around the edges, making Fit’s heart hammer, a funny little feeling coiling in his gut along with the building pressure of his oncoming release.
He gave one last shudder, reaching up to flick the gold hoops at Pac’s breast, thumb working over his chest until the man keened, his cunt tightening around Fit’s cock, body trembling as another orgasm raced through him. Fit upped his pace, hips pumping as he chased his own peak, sweat rolling down his back as he dragged Pac into a searing kiss, eagerly swallowing Pac’s startled mewl, his tongue pushing past shocked lips and lapping up the sweet taste of his lover.
With a garbled moan Pac bit down on Fit’s eager tongue, the elder man stiffening as the coil in his gut tightened than finally snapped, Fit groaned, breaking the kiss to bury his face in Pac’s neck, hips jerking as a hot flood of cum filled his lover, spilling out around his throbbing cock and dripping down to cover his balls, Pac’s cunt fluttering, milking him for all he was worth.
Fit fumbled around, reaching for the pigging string and unlacing it with a practiced tug, letting Pac fall forward against him. His arms came up, wrapping around Pac’s trembling frame and squeezing him against his chest.
He rocked back and forth, encouraging the last little dribble of cum, his breath coming in low pants, Pac’s mouth kissing sloppily at his bearded jaw, low murmurs of appreciation falling from his lips like worship.
“You did so good baby boy” Fit praised, rubbing his broad palm down Pac’s back, feeling the rabbiting beat of Pac’s heart gradually slow to a steady thump thump thump, his breath evening out with each moment that passed.
“Mmmmh, you were more than worth the wait, garanhão” Pac purred, sneaking a trail of lazy kisses up the Americans neck, teeth grazing the shell of one red flushed ear. Fit’s cock twitched inside him, the man himself groaning at the sensation.
“Garanhno? That's a new one sweetheart” Fit murmured, hands gone back to tracing strange shapes along Pac’s spine.
“Is a cavalo, a male horse” Pac explained, eyes half lidded as he rested against Fit’s shoulder, basking in the afterglow and the feeling of Fit’s cock slowly softening inside him.
A deep laugh rumbled up from Fit’s barrel chest, shaking them both as he dissolved into laughter, Pac squeaked indignantly, his fist thumping against Fit’s chest in outrage.
“Fitch! não ria de mim enquanto suas bolas estiverem enterradas profundamente na minha boceta!” The younger man snarled, Fit snorted, trying to swallow down his mirth as he caught Pac’s hands, pressing them against his own chest, right over his heart.
“I didn't mean to laugh love, I’ll be taking that as a compliment” Pac’s pout deepened, his brows furrowing as he spat out a spiteful “seu cabrão!.”
Fit couldn't help but smile. Pac has always been full of fire, He hid it well under layers of polish and humour but Fit loved his mean streak in all its mile wide glory.
"Don't need any translation for that one sweetheart" Fit teased, taking a moment to enjoy the bitter pout on his lovers face before he kissed it away, beard leaving a rash on Pac's smooth cheeks as he his lips were captured in a heated kiss, Fit’s tongue lapping at his pout, as if he was begging to be let in.
Pac held out for a few stubborn moments but the need was too strong, he craved the taste of his American like an addict craved their next hit, unfortunately for Pac he had been cold stone sober so long that every moment was like a brand on his skin, burning into his soul and leaving its mark.
The two almost lost themselves in the embrace, Pac's well manicured nails clawing against the fabric of Fit's dusty shirt, buttons went flying as he tore at the fabric, desperate to get at the warm skin underneath and leave his mark so that anyone who was lucky enough to see Fit shirtless would know he was well and truly a taken man.
Time seemed to meld into nothing as their tongues danced, neither willing to be the first to break away but as it always does, reality came crashing down, their breath running short the two broke apart gasping, chest's heaving and lips slick with the others spit.
This time when Fit laughed, Pac joined in, voices high and breathless, drunk on each other and love.
Catching his breath Fit huffed out a cocky "is that a good enough apology Pac?"
Pac hummed in consideration, dark eyes trailing over Fit's exposed chest, the unbuttoned shirt having fallen open, leaving him to Pac's eyes.
"I don't think so Fitchi, It's going to have to be something very good to make it up" Taunted Pac, a slender finger wagging in Fit's face, tapping against the tip of his nose to punctuate the younger man's statement.
"Make it up? now that's something I can do." Pac had a moment to register Fit's words before they were moving, Fit's arm's slid around his back as they rose, Pac flailed, his legs tightening around Fit's broad hips, locking them together as Fit carried them across the caravan's small lounge and into its kitchenette.
With another dark chuckle Fit lowered Pac onto the counter, rough hands ghosting of Pac's hips, thumb stroking over the faint stretch marks that graced his dark skin and down until his hands slid behind Pac's knee's, encouraging him to loosen his grip with a gentle "Please" and a careful tug.
Reluctantly, Pac loosened his grip, thighs spreading to let Fit pull away, his flaccid cock sliding out of Pac's hole with a flood of cum and slick that pooled under him, staining his thighs and the front of Fit's jeans.
Pac keened at the loss, chasing after his retreating lover, hands outstretched. Fit caught them in mid-air and brought them to his warm lips, his whiskey eyes locked onto Pac's as kisses were laid at the inside of his wrist, first one than the other until kisses circled them, his pulse hammered as the sweet touch of Fit's bruised lip's soothed the red raw marks from the pigging string rubbing against delicate flesh.
Heat raced through his body, head suddenly swimming with the overwhelming sensation as Fit lowered himself to his knees again, settling between Pac's sticky thighs with all the grace of a seasoned cowboy in the saddle.
Fit let out the breath Pac didn't even realise he had been holding as he lent in, letting his cheek rest against the swell of Pac's undamaged thigh, staring up at the Brazilian with adoration in his eye's.
"Gosto de voc- no, eu tu amo Pac." Fit declared as he ran a finger through the rapidly cooling cum pooling under Pac's plump ass before tracing it over his own lip's tongue darting out to lick his finger and lips clean, the bigger man shuddering at the taste, a haze of bliss clouding his eyes.
"I love you too Fit" Pac swore, leaning forward and cupping Fit's bearded face, thumbing over the line of his jaw like the man was a loyal hound, in his own way Fit really was Pac's Puppy, loyal and loving and the sweetest man who had ever loved him in this way.
So absorbed in themselves the two men missed the faint chiming of Pac's long forgotten phone as it buzzed, text's lighting up the screen as Fit's strong hands went to his prosthetic leg, one gently cupping the foot as the other toyed with the plastic edge, where the skin was protected by a thick silicone sheath from the harsh plastic and metal that allowed Pac to walk.
"Can I?" Fit asked, fingers trailing lightly across the skin.
He was good like that, despite having helped attach and remove his leg more times than they both cared to count he still asked for Pac's consent each and every time. Fit knew the trust Pac was putting on him to even be aloud near such a vulnerable spot and the coals of his heart warmed at the sweet gesture in amongst the fiery blaze of passion.
"Claro, Sempre." Pac whispered, his words dust on the wind with how softly they had been spoken.
As always Fit’s sharp ears picked up his voice like it was the loudest thing, the only thing that matters in the world, every whispered word a treasure tucked into his heart where they would be safe.
“I got you Pac.” Warm fingers made another circuit of the raised scar tissue, as if the older man couldn't bear to pull away just yet.
When he was satisfied with his exploration Fit gripped the prosthetic foot lightly, the other hand supping around where it attached to his calf just below the mercifully intact knee joint, waiting patiently for Pac to lift his leg, keeping the prosthetic in place so his remaining flesh slid out of the socket neatly.
With all the care of a parent Fit set the prosthetic off to the side, far enough out of the way that it could not be tripped on but where Pac could still see and reach it if he needed to, a well practiced motion to sooth the needles of fear prickling across Pac’s psyche into something manageable.
Pac let out the breath he hadn't realised had been held, lungs burning with need as he sucked in mouthfull of cool air, Fit’s eyes flashing to his for a moment, his fingers stilling where they rested on the silicone sleeve covering the worst of the scars.
He waited until Pac’s breath had steadied out and the bright spark of panic in his sloe eyes dimmed before slipping his fingers under the silicone and rolling it down the stump, exposing more of the same long surgical scars, most were the neat cuts of a surgeon, carefully laid out to minimise skin and muscle loss after the amputation but plenty were the neat if hasty mending of flesh already torn by splintered bone and angry hooves.
Fit took a deep breath of his own, holding it deep in his chest as the silicone sock slid off fully, leaving Pac naked, devoid of any coverings or falsities, the only thing left was Fit’s own hat, still perched on Pac’s head like a crown.
A moment passed before Fit set the sock aside, turning it the right side out as he sat it down, his free hand coming, palm skimming Pac’s jaw as he reached for the hat.
Pac made a sound of protest, snatching Fit’s wrist out of the air, his grip tighter than iron, Fit hushed him, a gentle kiss pressed to the younger's forehead.
“It’s yours baby, everyone knows I'm yours but we don't want to get this old thing messy, do we? Fit soothed, gently stroking the outer edge of Pac’s thigh in gentle strokes until his grip slackend.
“É meu, você é meu e ninguém mais pode te ter. Mine.” He nodded along to Pac’s bitter words, flourishing under the territorial taste of them as he slid the hat off Pac’s dark hair and sat it behind them, back on the clean side of the couch where his faintly buzzling phone sat.
“Got it in one baby~” The American teased, settling back between Pac’s plump thighs like he belonged there, a crooked grin curving his lips into a smug smile.
“It’s time you made it up to me Fit, show me what my big boy has planned” Pac cupped the back of Fit’s bald head, painted nails scratching lightly as he forced down the fear and bitter shame, the burning ache of possession, letting the feeling of lust and love overwhelm him again.
“Yeah? Feeling eager, pretty boy?”
With a laugh Pac hooked his good leg around Fit’s shoulder, dragging him closer, caged in with Pac’s still dripping cunt in his face.
Fit couldn't help but look, eyeing the slick folds as his pearly white cum dribbled down, pooling and staining the counter, his tongue darted out, wetting his lip’s at the mouth watering site, a hand sneaking up between them to run a finger through the mess, gathering a few fingers full of the sticky slick, rubbing it between his fingers and watching with rapt attention as it strung like silk spider web when he pulled his fingers apart.
Pac, equally absorbed by the sight, hardly stiffened when Fit moved his cum covered fingers towards his amputated leg, the first touch of sticky slick against feverish skin setting his heart racing.
This felt like the cold nights when his scars stung, skin pulled tight enough that he thought it would split open all over again when Fit would lay him back on their bad, propped up on a mountain of pillows and rub soothing creams into the stump as Pac read aloud from one of the racy romance books that Fit collected like candy, the cover adored with scantily clad women and a blond haired adonis rendered in wonderful detail by an artists hand.
Fit carefully rubbed the mix of cum and slick into the scars closest to the knee first, fingers moving in small circles from top to bottom until each scar was fully coated, the tense skin loosening under his skilled touch.
When the cum inevitably ran out, Fit would delicately slid his fingers back through Pac’s messy folds, fingers dipping inside his hole and scooping out another load of cum to play with, thoroughly lotioning each and eerie mark of his lovers skin until there was hardly a trace of sticky residue left on or in Pac and his stump glistened with the makeshift skin lotion.
He rubbed the last of it between his own two hands and smoothed over the stump once more before leaning in close and lapping at Pac’s clit, clever tongue circling around the base and down, working over the outer labia to tidy him up and further still to lick the smears from the counter.
Pac squirmed above him, breath coming out in short sharp pants that covered the sound of gravel crunching under heavy footfalls outside the caravan, Fit’s tongue diving into Pac’s slick hole drew out a squeak that covered the scratch of keys in a lock and the clicking of bolts.
Behind them a phone chirped one last time as Fit slid three fingers into Pac’s already stretched cunt, quickly adding a fourth as Pac cried out in pleasure, hips raised to meet his touch, tongue still working around Pac’s clit as he scissored his fingers, gradually stretching Pac until he could accommodate the whole of Fit’s large hand.
When Pac whined at the stretch Fit wrapped his lips fully around Pac’s cocklet and sucked, sending an explosion of stars blooming behind the brazilian beauties eyes, taking away the discomfort and sting of being prepped.
Pac tossed his head back, crying out as Fit’s rough fingers butted against the spongy bundle of nerves that sent him spinning, his moan of ecstasy morphing into a shrek as for the second time that day the door to the trailer swung open.
Fit swore, trying to scramble for a covering as Pac’s thighs snapped closed, pinning him in place, four fingers deep in the honey pot and unable to reach any of their clothes. Pac’s arms came up, covering his exposed chest with one and the other grabbing the first thing from the counter, his carelessly set aside can of Monster, now much warmer but sticky on one side from his earlier playing. He lobbed it at the intruder, half crushing the can with how tight he snatched it up.
“Merda!” the man cried out, a blur of pink hair startling them both as he ducked, the can flying over his head and crashing outside the caravan, its syrupy goodness spilling into the gravel and creating a feast for the local bugs.
It took them a second to recognise the man, adrenalin running high and hearts pumping as Mike slammed the door behind him, snarling a string of garbled portuguese under his breath, rough hand’s tugging on the green button up to neaten it's crumpled fabric.
“ Mike?! ” They shouted, caught naked as a newborn and red handed.
The youngest of the three grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he waved, cocky and confident as always.
“olá moço~
Ghost_Likes_Writing on Chapter 2 Thu 17 Apr 2025 07:57AM UTC
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LeviathansDeepDark on Chapter 2 Fri 18 Apr 2025 01:19AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 18 Apr 2025 01:19AM UTC
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Ghost_Likes_Writing on Chapter 2 Fri 18 Apr 2025 02:17AM UTC
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LeviathansDeepDark on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Apr 2025 11:26AM UTC
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Ghost_Likes_Writing on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Apr 2025 04:24PM UTC
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AAssttrroo00 on Chapter 2 Thu 24 Apr 2025 02:35AM UTC
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Jaeouni on Chapter 2 Fri 25 Apr 2025 09:15AM UTC
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LeviathansDeepDark on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Apr 2025 11:24AM UTC
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LeviathansDeepDark on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Apr 2025 11:24AM UTC
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AAssttrroo00 on Chapter 2 Tue 29 Apr 2025 03:13AM UTC
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Em578 on Chapter 3 Wed 30 Apr 2025 08:34PM UTC
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sugarapplesweet on Chapter 3 Sat 03 May 2025 12:07AM UTC
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Ghost_Likes_Writing on Chapter 3 Sun 04 May 2025 05:31PM UTC
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AAssttrroo00 on Chapter 3 Wed 07 May 2025 01:36AM UTC
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