Work Text:
The link had popped up in Eddie’s feed as a sponsored ad, a grainy thumbnail that was somehow, unmistakably, Buck. His finger hovered, heart hammering against his ribs.
It can’t be.
He clicked.
And there he was. Buck, smiling that familiar, disarming smile directly into the camera, sitting cross-legged on a rumpled bed. “Hey there,” Buck said, his voice a little lower, a little rougher than usual. “So, it’s my birthday. The big three-oh.” He grinned, a flash of white teeth and crinkling eyes. “And for my birthday special… I’m gonna take thirty creampies in me.”
Eddie’s breath hitched. The video quality sharpened. This wasn’t some deepfake. This was Evan Buckley, his best friend, the guy he fought fires with, the man he trusted with his son’s life. And he was… this.
The first man entered the frame, already hard. Buck turned, presenting himself on his hands and knees, the perfect curve of his ass on full display. Eddie’s own cock twitched in his sweatpants, a traitorous surge of heat pooling in his gut. He refused to touch himself.
The first thrust made Buck gasp, a sharp, beautiful sound that Eddie had never heard before. The man’s hips pistoned, a steady, rhythmic slap of skin on skin that filled Eddie’s headphones. Buck’s face was turned toward the camera, his expression a masterpiece of concentration and bliss. His eyes were glazed, his lips parted. Eddie watched, mesmerized, as Buck’s body was used, as he wanted to be used. He’s counting, Eddie realized, seeing Buck’s lips move silently with each thrust. He’s counting every one.
The first man came with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep. Buck arched, a full-body shudder rolling through him. A soft, satisfied sigh escaped him as the man pulled out, the evidence of the first “creampie” already beginning to leak down his thigh.
One.
The video cut, then reset. A new man, a different body, but the same position. Buck, receptive and eager. This one was rougher, gripping Buck’s hips hard enough to leave marks. Eddie leaned closer to the screen, his pulse throbbing in his ears. He watched the thick length disappear into Buck’s body, saw the way Buck’s entrance stretched and clung to the invading cock. The sounds were wet, obscene, hypnotic. Buck’s moans were getting louder, less controlled. “Fuck… yeah, just like that,” Buck panted, his voice ragged.
Two.
Man after man. Position after position. Eddie witnessed Buck on his back, legs hooked over broad shoulders, taking a cock so deep his stomach seemed to bulge. He saw him bent over the arm of a couch, his face pressed into the cushions, his cries muffled but no less desperate. Each encounter was a few minutes of raw, unfiltered sex, culminating in that same moment: the man’s climax, Buck’s receptive shudder, the spill of seed.
Seven. Thirteen. Nineteen.
Eddie was hard now, achingly so, his hand finally slipping into his waistband. He matched his rhythm to the men on screen, his own breathing syncing with Buck’s. He wasn’t just watching porn. He was watching Buck. He was learning the exact pitch of his moan when he was filled completely. He saw the way his toes curled when a cock brushed that perfect spot inside him. He cataloged the flush that spread across Buck’s chest and neck, the sheen of sweat that made his skin glow under the lights.
Twenty-four.
A particularly large man entered. Buck’s eyes widened for a second, a flicker of apprehension that was quickly swallowed by dizzying hunger. “C’mon,” Buck slurred, spreading himself wider. “Give it to me.” The stretch was visible, breathtaking. Buck screamed, but it was a scream of pure ecstasy, his head thrown back, cords standing out in his neck. Eddie’s hand moved faster, his own climax coiling tight. He was right there with him, feeling every imagined sensation—the burn, the fullness, the overwhelming pressure.
The man came, roaring, and Buck sobbed, his body convulsing through what looked like a powerful, untouched orgasm, his own release splattering the sheets beneath him.
Twenty-five.
The video was nearing its end. Buck looked utterly wrecked—glorious and debauched. His hair was matted, his body glistening with sweat and other fluids. He was struggling to stay on his hands and knees, his arms trembling. Yet, he still smiled at the camera, a dazed, triumphant smile. “C’mon, guys,” he whispered hoarsely. “Almost there. Don’t stop.”
The final man was gentle. He knelt behind Buck, his hands soothing on Buck’s trembling flanks. “Easy, birthday boy,” the man murmured. “Last one.” He pushed in slowly, letting Buck’s ruined body adjust. Buck whimpered, a sound of overstimulation and profound gratitude. The thrusts were slow, deep, almost loving. Eddie’s own movements slowed, savoring this final act. He watched as the man wrapped an arm around Buck’s chest, holding him close, whispering praises into his ear as he moved. Buck melted into the hold, his defenses completely gone, his expression one of vulnerable surrender.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” the man grunted, his pace faltering. “Gonna give you your thirty.”
“Yes,” Buck hissed, a final, desperate plea. “Do it. Please.”
The man slammed home, shuddering. Buck’s cry was choked, broken. He collapsed forward, the man following him down, both of them spent.
Thirty.
The screen went black.
Eddie came with a strangled gasp, his release hot and sudden, his eyes locked on the frozen, end-screen image of Buck’s logo. His heart pounded, a chaotic drum against his ribs. The room was silent except for his ragged breathing.
He slumped back in his chair, the reality crashing down. The sticky evidence on his stomach. The dark, empty browser window. The profound, unsettling knowledge now seared into his brain.
Buck. His best friend. The man who laughed too loud and tried too hard and had a heart bigger than the city. That Buck had just taken thirty strangers inside him, for money, for pleasure, for… for whatever this was.
And Eddie had watched every second. He had loved every second. A sick, thrilling heat still simmered in his veins, mingling with a thick wave of shame. He closed the laptop.
But in the silence, the images played on a loop behind his eyes. Buck’s blissful face. The arch of his back. The raw, hungry sounds he made. Eddie’s hand, sticky and cooling, rested on his abdomen.
He knew, with a certainty that frightened him, that he would be searching for that video again. Very, very soon.