Chapter 5: Marco's Submission
The gym's locker room reeked of bleach, stale sweat, and damp concrete. Josh moved silently past rows of metal lockers, the rhythmic drip of a showerhead the only sound. He knew where to find him. Past the urinals, past the communal showers still steaming from the last user. To the last stall. Door slightly ajar. He pushed it open on silent hinges.
Inside, Marco sat bare-assed on the closed toilet lid, thick legs splayed wide. Naked. Utterly hypnotized, his expression slack-jawed and dreamily content. Drool, thick and viscous, spilled uninterrupted from the corner of his mouth, cascading in a steady stream down his hairy chest and belly before splattering wetly onto the thick, heavy cock resting on his thigh. The shaft was deep red, glistening with spit, the swollen head almost purple. Marco’s thick fingers idly traced the veins. He wasn't jerking off, just worshiping. Whispering, his voice a slurred, gravelly murmur. "Fuck yeah. Good cock. Fucking beast. His cock. Doc's cock."
Josh didn't hesitate. He slipped into the cramped stall, the door clicking shut behind him. Marco’s unfocused eyes, magnified oddly by his fogged horn-rims, didn’t register alarm, just a vague, pleased recognition. "Hey Doc. Lookit." he mumbled, grinning stupidly, gesturing clumsily at his spit-slicked erection.
Josh, removing his gym shirt and hanging it on the hook, dropped to a squat on the cold tile. He didn’t need words here, not with Marco this deep. He gripped Marco’s thick waist, thumbs digging into the dense flesh and muscle. Josh leaned in, inhaling the pungent musk of sweat, precum, and Marco’s arousal. Then, without preamble, Josh opened his mouth wide and took him. All of him.
He didn’t tease. He sank down, his throat opening, forcing itself wide around the sheer, intimidating girth. Marco’s cock wasn't rock-hard; it had that heavy, dense, yielding feel of a cock at peak arousal but not straining for release just yet. It was massive, a fat, heavy hog of meat that stretched Josh’s jaw wide and filled his throat with an almost overwhelming pressure. The sheer weight of it, the way it seemed to snake down, thick and insistent, pressing against his soft palate, triggering his gag reflex only to be ruthlessly suppressed – it was a brutal, blissful invasion. Josh moaned around the intrusion, the vibration making Marco gasp and buck his hips slightly.
"Yeah fuck. Suck yeah," Marco slurred, his head lolling back against the stall partition with a thud. His hands fumbled, landing clumsily on Josh’s head, fingers tangling in his blonde hair, not guiding, just gripping. His cock pulsed hot and heavy in Josh’s throat. Josh worked him, bobbing his head with deliberate, deep strokes. Each descent took that thick head deep, each withdrawal left his lips stretched tightly around the shaft before plunging back down. Taking dicks like Marco's always put Josh into something of a trance. The overwhelming size, no space for thought. He hooked Marco's leg around the back of his neck and patted Marco's thigh.
Marco knew what to do. He slowly used his leg to slide Josh's fat, wet lips up and down his dick. He found a rhythm and they both leaned into it. Saliva pooled, dripped from where his lips couldn't seal around the immense thickness, mingling with Marco’s own drool on his balls and thighs. The wet, sloppy sounds – suction, gagging, dripping spit – echoed off the tiled walls. Josh’s eyes watered, tears mixing with the sweat beading on his forehead. He loved the struggle, the raw feeling of being used by this thick piece of meat, by this arrogant prick reduced to a drooling puppet. Marco's leg and dick allowing him, for just a moment, to let go.
Marco’s breathing grew ragged, hitching. "Blow, blow. Blow, blow" He kept repeating between whines and groans. His hips jerked uncontrollably. "Swallow. Swallow. Swallow." His leg violently whipping Josh's head back and forth on his now-cream-laden cock.
Josh pushed down, taking him to the root, nose buried in coarse pubes, burying the thick cock deep in his throat. He held it there, swallowing convulsively around the base just as Marco’s orgasm hit, his leg dropping back to the floor.
It wasn't a pulsing stream; it was a thick, hot gush, flooding the back of Josh’s throat. A second burst, even thicker. Marco grunted, a deep animal sound, his fingers tightening painfully in Josh’s hair, his whole muscular body tensing and shuddering. Josh swallowed desperately, gulping down the salty, bitter load, feeling the hot jets hit the back of his throat, coating it. More followed. He kept swallowing, sucking firmly as Marco emptied himself, drawing out every last drop, milking the thick shaft with his throat muscles. The sheer volume, the intensity of Marco’s release triggered a sympathetic hardening in Josh’s own cock, straining against his shorts.
Finally, Marco sagged, spent, his grip loosening. Josh pulled off slowly, lips sliding wetly off the softening, glistening monster. A final string of spit and cum connected his lower lip to Marco’s cockhead before snapping. Josh took a deep, shuddering breath, the air cool in his raw throat. He ran the back of his hand over his wet chin, tasting Marco there too. He looked up.
Marco gazed down at him, eyes still glazed, a dopey, satisfied smile on his face, drool still leaking from his slack mouth onto his heaving chest. He was stroking his nipples in a soothing motion. "Fuck… yeah…" he breathed. "Good… good slut."
Josh stood, knees protesting. He wiped his mouth more thoroughly with the back of his hand, then reached for the toilet paper. He tore off a wad, spat into it thickly – a mix of his own spit and Marco’s residue – and tossed it into the bowl. He flushed. The loud roar filled the stall.
"Alright, big guy," Josh said, his voice slightly hoarse, as he replaced his gym shirt. He kept his tone casual, matter-of-fact, reinforcing the hypnotic suggestion that this was normal, just a necessary release. "Finish cleaning up. Workout’s not done." He tossed Marco the roll of toilet paper.
Marco blinked slowly, then looked down at his deflating, spit-slicked cock. "Right… yeah." He clumsily wiped himself down, the dumb grin never leaving his face. He stood up, swaying slightly, and pulled on his shorts commando, his thick cock making a noticeable bulge in the damp fabric. He splashed water on his face at the sink, not bothering to dry it properly, droplets mixing with the remnants of drool. He adjusted his fogged glasses. As Josh passed behind him, he said, "Absorption", and Marco's sweet, himbo face re-hardened to the cocky meathead.
Josh was back in the gym before Marco noticed him. The noise hit immediately – weights clanging, grunts, the thump of techno. Josh headed back to his treadmill, starting a slow cooldown jog. Marco lumbered out not long after, heading over to a lat pulldown machine, settling his bulk onto the seat. He loaded the stack heavier than necessary, his movements strong but lacking their usual aggressive abandon. He began pulling down, thoughtfully, with intention, the cables whining. His eyes were distant, unfocused on his surroundings. A thin line of spit escaped the corner of his mouth as he strained, unnoticed. He didn’t wipe it away.
Josh watched him from the corner of his eye, a slow, predatory curl lifting his own lips. Good, he thought. Dumb, drained, and dripping. Perfect. The hypnotic leash was secure. Marco was primed, his arrogance replaced by a sated, needy docility. The thick musk of him still coated the back of Josh’s throat, a promise of what was to come.
The apartment. His sanctuary. His arena. Where he wouldn't just swallow Marco’s load. He’d take it deep inside, feel that thick cock pulse its claim into his guts while Marco babbled mindless praise. Josh increased the treadmill speed slightly, the burn in his legs a counterpoint to the low thrum of anticipation in his groin. Almost time. The walk home couldn’t come soon enough.
The gym’s stale air clung to Josh’s skin as he finally unclipped from the treadmill. Sweat cooled on his neck. Across the free-weight zone, Marco slammed dumbbells onto a rack, his thick frame vibrating with spent energy. Josh went to the bench next to him and focussed on chest exercises. They ignored each other for the next 20 minutes of focussed strength training.
As Josh was packing up his stuff, Marco lumbered over, wiping sweat from his porn-star moustache with the back of a hairy forearm. "You headin' out, Princess?" The nickname, sharp-edged with habitual contempt, sliced through the grunts and clanging metal. Josh simply raised an eyebrow. Marco shrugged, a ripple of dense muscle under sweat-slicked skin. "I’ll walk with you." The words sounded flat, automatic. Josh knew Marco had no idea where that thought came from. His programming was tight. Seamless.
The city air outside was cooler, thick with exhaust and damp pavement. They walked in silence, Josh’s mind already replaying the locker room stall – the heavy heat of Marco’s cock snaking down his throat, the thick gush swallowed effortlessly. Marco’s sneakers scuffed the sidewalk beside him, rhythmic and oblivious. They turned a corner onto a quieter street lined with faded brick buildings. Ahead, tucked between a shuttered bookstore and a takeaway, stood the old Victorian public toilet. Its wrought-iron railings were rusted, the stone steps worn smooth.
Josh slowed, feigning urgency. "Gotta take a quick slash," he muttered, already veering towards the entrance. Marco followed without hesitation, a shadow puppeted by unseen strings. "Yeah, me too," Marco mumbled, though Josh knew he didn’t need to piss. The heavy wooden door creaked open. Inside, it was cold, tiled floor grimy underfoot, smelling sharply of urine and mildew. Empty. Fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, casting harsh light on cracked porcelain and dripping taps.
As Josh strode to the nearest urinal, unzipping his fly, he glanced back over his shoulder, his voice dropping to a low murmur that resonated in the sudden quiet. "Drooltastic."
The trigger word snapped through Marco’s synapses. His eyes glazed instantly, that innocent smile returning, the faint confusion wiped clean. He moved behind Josh, his hands coming round to hold Josh's streaming cock. Josh lifted his shirt up and slowly rubbed his nipples as he leaned all of his weight back on to Marco. The warm solidity a dominating presence, just as he wanted. As Marco shook the last drops from Josh's lengthening cock, his thick legs dropped him heavily to his knees on the cold floor. Rough hands gripped Josh’s hips, peeling the fabric down from his ass and Marco’s hot, wet tongue pressed against Josh’s asshole, probing insistently. Then his tongue dropped to lick a long stripe from his perineum up and into Josh's hole, breath hot and humid. Josh grunted, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure. The pressure was insistent, demanding, sloppy. Drool slicked Josh’s skin as Marco worked, lapping at the tight ring of muscle, pushing against it with wet urgency. The contrast between the cold air and Marco’s furnace-like mouth was electric.
Marco kept rimming, moaning softly into his cleft. "Fuck… yeah… eat it," Josh hissed, pushing back onto the relentless tongue, knowing his usual clean-out from before his final patient would mean he was still clean. Marco obeyed, tongue spearing deeper, messy and devoted. Finally, Josh pulled away. Marco stayed kneeling, breathing hard, his chin glistening with spit. He looked up, eyes vacant pools of need.
"Spit," Josh commanded, his voice rough. Marco’s thick fingers fumbled with his own gym shorts, yanking them down just far enough to free his heavy, half-hard cock. He spat into his palm, a thick gob of saliva. Then he spat again, working it into a slick sheen over his thickening shaft. The sound was obscenely wet. He grabbed Josh’s hips, pulling him back. Josh braced himself against the cold porcelain urinal.
Marco’s spit-slicked cockhead pressed against Josh’s loosened hole. There was no finesse, just blunt, demanding pressure. Josh clenched, then consciously forced himself to relax, yielding. "Fucking slide it in, you dumb animal," he growled. Marco grunted, hips thrusting forward. The thick head breached him, a burning stretch. Josh hissed, knuckles white on the urinal. Marco pushed deeper, his heavy cock filling Josh inch by brutal inch, the spit easing the passage but not the sheer girth. It burned. It stretched him obscenely wide. The cold tile pressed against Josh’s cheek.
Marco began to fuck. Short, hard, piston-like thrusts that slammed Josh against the urinal. No rhythm, just raw, mindless rutting. His thick balls slapped wetly against Josh’s ass cheeks. "Take it… take my fuckin' cock…" Marco gasped, his voice thick, hypnotized. His hands gripped Josh’s pecs hard enough to bruise, pinching and twisting his nipples. Josh groaned, pain and pleasure twisting together. The thick shaft dragged against his prostate on every inward shove, sending jolts up his spine. The air filled with wet slaps, panting breaths, and Marco’s choked grunts. Josh felt Marco swell impossibly thicker inside him. "Gonna… fuck… blow!" Marco choked out.
He slammed in deep, grinding his hips against Josh’s ass. His cock pulsed violently, thick jets of cum flooding Josh’s guts. Heat spread. Marco shuddered, a low groan tearing from his throat as he emptied himself, each spurt a hammer blow deep inside. He stayed buried, hips twitching as the last spurts trickled out. Josh felt the hot wetness pooling inside him, the heavy weight of Marco’s softening cock still lodged deep.
Marco pulled out slowly with a wet slurp. Cum leaked down Josh’s inner thighs. Marco stood, tucking his sticky cock back into his shorts, movements automatic, his face blank. He pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket, wiped his chin mechanically. Josh straightened, wincing slightly at the tender ache and the warm trickle escaping his hole. He reached into his gym bag and found a decent sized plug for his ass. He popped it in and zipped up. He muttered the word, low and satisfied: "Absorption."
They walked out into the cooling evening air. Marco fell into step beside Josh as if nothing had happened, the thick scent of sex clinging to them both. Josh adjusted his stride, feeling the butt plug shift heavily inside him. His own apartment, with its waiting privacy and the promise of deeper surrender, beckoned just blocks away. He craved the complete submission, open and without interruption, the familiar grunt of effort. He wanted Marco kneeling, drooling, worshipping his cock again soon. Very soon. The ache was a delicious reminder. A promise. His sanctuary awaited.
The heavy door to Josh’s apartment clicked shut, sealing out the city’s grime. Inside, the air hung thick with the familiar, comforting blend of cedarwood, rosemary and ylang ylang, another of his favourite blends. It was a large, open plan loft. To the right, weights stood stacked like silent sentinels against exposed brick walls plastered with faded posters of straining athletes. Josh headed there are dropped his gym bag with a thud near the power rack. To the left was a utility closet for laundry. Further along on the left was the bedroom nook, the living space was central. The kitchen area and bathroom filled out the rest of the space on the right. There was a mezzanine Josh kept for more intense work with clients.
Marco hovered near the doorway, his usual swagger replaced by a dazed, post-coital docility, the scent of their public coupling still clinging faintly to him. Josh could still feel the push of the plug, the warm seep of Marco’s load inside him, a deliciously filthy reminder.
"Fuck, I’m wired," Josh muttered, stretching, the muscles in his back popping. He eyed Marco, slumped against the doorframe, those thick arms hanging loose, the horn-rims slightly askew. Perfectly pliable. "Want a quick hit before you crawl back to your mom’s basement? Take the edge off." He kept his tone casual, baiting the hook.
Marco’s head snapped up, a flicker of his old defensiveness sparking behind the glaze. His jaw tightened. "Fuck you, Doc," he retorted, the insult automatic, hollow. "Least my mom loves me." The words lacked their usual venom, sounding rehearsed, a programmed response Josh had anticipated. "She loved me perfectly well last night". Marco barked a laugh, "As if, faggot," and flipped him off. He smirked.
"Whatever helps you sleep, princess," Josh shrugged, already moving towards his bedroom alcove, partitioned off by a heavy curtain. "Roll us one while I ditch these sweaty rags. Grinder and bud are on the coffee table." He didn’t look back, trusting the command embedded deep in Marco’s fogged mind would take hold. He heard the heavy tread of Marco’s sneakers crossing the worn hardwood towards the low couch.
Behind the curtain, Josh stripped efficiently, knowing the angled mirrors would give Marco a fine view if he wanted it. The damp gym clothes hit the floor. He turned to admire himself in the mirror quickly, turning to check the plug and give it a little tug. The short, orgasmic quake hit him perfectly. He brushed his nipples and turned to dress, hoping Marco had gotten an eyeful. He pulled on soft, grey cotton shorts, letting them hang low on his hips, ensuring his cock was beautifully outlined. Then a loose, faded black vest – the kind with wide armholes and a deep neckline. He deliberately chose it. It exposed the dense, dark hair covering his pecs and the prominent, puffy pink nipples nestled within. He ran a hand over his chest, rough fingertips grazing one nub, then the other, feeling them tighten instantly. Josh was going to give Marco the show he craved. He pushed the curtain aside.
Marco sat hunched on the edge of the worn leather couch, defiantly ignoring Josh, and therefore confirming he absolutely was looking. Marco's thick fingers were surprisingly deft as they worked the paper, curling it into an expert conical shape. The small table held all of the equipment: papers, roaches, a lighter and ashtray, the pungent aroma of cannabis clearly present. Marco glanced up as Josh approached. His gaze snagged instantly, not on Josh’s face, but lower. Fixated. Those magnified eyes behind the glasses widened slightly, locked onto Josh’s exposed chest, specifically the dark, pebbled nipples visible through the vest’s wide opening. Marco’s jaw slackened, a bead of drool forming unnoticed at the corner of his mouth. His fingers stilled on the joint.
Josh sank onto the couch beside him, the springs groaning under their combined weight. He leaned back, deliberately spreading his arms along the couch back, further exposing his torso. He reached for the rolling papers Marco had laid out. "Getting there?" Josh asked, his voice deliberately soft. He watched Marco’s gaze dart from nipple to nipple, hypnotized. Josh lifted his own hand, absently tracing a finger around one areola, circling the stiffening nub. He pinched it lightly, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. Marco inhaled sharply, a wet sound. His knuckles were white on the spliff.
"Yeah… yeah, almost," Marco mumbled, voice thick. He forced his eyes down, gathering his saliva and swallowing. His hands trembled slightly. He licked the paper, only slightly fumbling the roll. Josh kept playing with his nipple, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing insistently over the sensitive peak. He felt his own cock stir in the soft shorts. Marco finally managed a decent job. He held it out. Josh took it, his fingers brushing Marco’s. Marco flinched.
Josh put the joint between his lips. Lit it. Took a long, slow drag, holding Marco’s glazed stare. He exhaled a plume of fragrant smoke. Passed the joint. Marco took it, his eyes flicking back down to Josh’s chest as Josh resumed teasing his own nipple, pulling gently on it now, making it stand out taut and bright against the hair. Marco sucked hard on the joint, holding the smoke, his gaze unwavering, transfixed by the display. The tension coiled thick and silent between them, broken only by the crackle of burning paper and Marco’s ragged exhale.
"Drooltastic," Josh murmured, the trigger word dropping into the smoky stillness like a stone into a pond.
Marco froze mid-inhale. Then, with a clumsy urgency, he placed the joint half-smoked into the ashtray. He stood up, movements jerky, robotic. Without a word, he grabbed his gym bag, rummaged frantically in a hidden inner pocket. He pulled out a pair of briefs – bright green, printed with cartoonish, grinning dinosaurs. He shucked off his shorts and t-shirt right there, standing naked in the dim light, his thick cock already thickening again despite the recent release in the public toilet. He stepped into the childish briefs, the elastic straining over his muscular thighs and heavy ass, the dinosaurs stretching absurdly over the bulge of his semi-hard cock.
He turned, eyes vacant pools of need fixed on Josh’s chest. He shuffled back to the couch. Hesitated for a second, then climbed awkwardly onto Josh’s lap, his dense weight settling heavily and immediately pushing Josh's buttplug against his prostate. Josh cried out in pleasure, allowing Marco's pressure and small shifts to further deepen and intensify this moment of ecstasy. Marco was big and warm, smelling of weed, sweat, and submission. He didn’t speak. Just pressed his face tentatively against Josh’s hairy pec, nuzzling like a clumsy animal seeking warmth. Josh, feeling calmer, encircled his arm around Marco’s broad, bare back, both supporting him and feeling the powerful muscles rippling under his skin. He picked up the joint again with his free hand, took another drag.
Marco shifted closer, burying his face deeper into Josh’s chest hair. His breathing grew heavier, more rhythmic against Josh’s skin. Josh felt the hot puff of air, the dampness of Marco’s open mouth. He exhaled smoke towards Marco's open mouth, his other hand idly stroking Marco’s thick back. Marco whimpered softly, a needy sound vibrating against Josh’s pec. He squirmed, pressing his dinosaur-clad erection against Josh’s belly. His lips brushed the edge of Josh’s areola.
Josh pinched his own nipple again, hard. "Go on," he breathed, the command barely audible.
With a choked gasp, Marco lunged. His mouth latched onto Josh’s left nipple, sucking fiercely, desperately. Hot, wet suction engulfed the sensitive nub. Marco’s tongue rasped roughly over the pebbled surface, then swirled around it, pressing hard. His lips formed a tight seal, pulling, drawing the nipple deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. He suckled like a starved infant, groaning around the flesh, his thick arms wrapping tighter around Josh’s torso, clinging. Drool escaped the corners of his mouth, slicking the dark hair around Josh’s chest. Josh hissed, arching slightly into the intense sensation, the sharp pull mingling with a deep, spreading warmth. He dropped the joint back into the ashtray, forgotten. One hand tangled in Marco’s shaggy hair, holding him firmly against his chest, encouraging the relentless suckling. The other slid down Marco’s broad back, fingers tracing the waistband of the ridiculous dinosaur briefs, dipping beneath to cup the solid curve of his ass and stroke his hole. Josh knew it would be clean. Marco would have douched before the gym without realising.
Marco wriggled, and Josh shifted so he could change sides. He never had to remind him. Once settled, Marco again pushed his hips forward, grinding his trapped cock against Josh’s stomach, moaning around the new nipple clamped firmly in his mouth, lost in a haze of primal need programmed deep by the man whose body he worshipped. Josh closed his eyes, head resting back against the couch, surrendering to the raw, wet claim, the power humming under his skin like a live wire.