Chapter 6: Taking Jamie
The sensation of Jamie’s eager mouth on him, hot and wet and desperate, was a circuit closing. For years, Jack had lived in the echo of that feeling—the audience’s roar translated into the hungry suction of a co-star’s lips. This was different. This was Jamie, with his innocent eyes and nervous smiles, transformed into a slurping, moaning animal by the mere sight of his cock. It was a power more intoxicating than any accolade.
He looked down at the mess of hair and need, at Tyler’s powerful body pistoning into Jamie from behind, and a possessive greed seized him. He wanted that tight heat for himself. He wanted to claim it.
With a rough, wet sound, Jack pulled his cock from Jamie’s mouth. A strand of spit clung briefly before snapping. Jamie whimpered, his lips still forming an ‘O’, his eyes pleading.
“Switch,” Jack growled, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument. He locked eyes with Tyler over Jamie’s trembling back. “My turn. I wanna wreck this ass.”
Tyler’s grin was feral. He gave one last, deep thrust that arched Jamie’s back, then pulled out with a slick pop. “All yours, old man.” He shuffled back on his knees, his own cock gleaming and wet. “Give him the legend.”
The crew was frozen, a ring of silent, rapt spectators. Paul’s camera hovered, capturing the transition. Izzy leaned forward, her chin resting on her knuckles, a queen observing her gladiators.
Jack moved. He positioned himself behind Jamie, his hands gripping the boy’s narrow hips hard enough to leave marks. He used the head of his cock, broad and insistent, to nudge against the already-stretched, glistening entrance. Jamie shuddered, pushing back instinctively, a broken sigh escaping him.
“Please,” Jamie whispered into the mattress.
Jack didn’t make him wait. He drove forward.
The resistance was minimal, a sweet, hot clench that gave way utterly. Jamie cried out, a sharp, guttural sound of pure feeling as Jack buried himself to the hilt in one relentless push. The feeling was monumental. It wasn’t just the physical tightness, though that was exquisite. It was the violation of a boundary, the crossing of a line they had both spent years silently acknowledging. His massive, heavy balls slapped snugly against Jamie’s sweat-slicked skin.
“Oh, god… fuck,” Jamie sobbed, his fists clenching the sheets. His body writhed, not in retreat, but in a frantic attempt to take more. “It’s so big… so fucking big…”
Jack began to move. He started with long, slow, devastating withdrawals and penetrations, each one forcing a choked noise from Jamie’s throat. Then he picked up the pace. The sound was obscene—a rhythmic, wet slap of flesh on flesh, punctuated by the meaty smack of his sac against Jamie’s ass and Jamie’s own ragged pleas. Tyler knelt beside Jamie’s head, feeding his cock back into that willing, open mouth. Jamie took it greedily, his sucking audible, a obscene counterpoint to the fucking he was receiving from behind.
Jamie was unspooling rapidly. His words dissolved into a continuous stream of filth and worship. “Harder… Daddy, fuck, please… fucking wreck me… this ass is yours… it belongs to you… only you…”
The word ‘Daddy’ sliced through the haze of physicality. It wasn’t a familial term here; it was a title of supreme ownership. And Jack owned this moment. He leaned over Jamie’s back, his chest hair matted with sweat, his breath hot on the boy’s neck. “You have no idea,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming punishing, “how many times I’ve thought about this. About bending you over and feeling you shake. About being back in front of a camera, feeling this again.” He laughed, a short, breathless burst of wonder. “Who the fuck would’ve believed I’d get both at once?”
He looked across at Tyler, who was fucking Jamie’s face with easy, practiced rolls of his hips. Their eyes met. A current of understanding, of shared conquest, passed between them. This was their world. This was their language. Tyler pulled his cock from Jamie’s mouth, slick and shining. He held up a fist. Jack, still pounding mercilessly into Jamie, bumped it with his own. They both laughed, raw and triumphant.
“Look at this filthy slut,” Tyler said, slapping Jamie’s reddened cheek gently with his dick. “Our whore.”
“Taking it like a champion,” Jack grunted, his rhythm never faltering. He was breathing hard, but it was a strong, sustained burn. He felt incredible.
Tyler moved in closer, his face near Jack’s. Jack leaned in until their foreheads touched, their sweat mingling. They stayed like that for several brutal thrusts into Jamie’s body, two kings acknowledging their domain, sharing the spoils. It was intensely intimate, a male bonding forged in shared, raw pleasure.
“You know what?” Tyler panted, pulling back slightly. “I wanna see this. I wanna watch the great Jack Ames work.”
He withdrew completely, settling back on his heels, his eyes bright with admiration and lust. Jack understood. The torch wasn’t being passed; it was being held up for them both to see.
Now solo, Jack unleashed everything. He pulled Jamie up by the hair, turning the boy’s head to meet him in a deep, devouring kiss. His large tongue pushed past Jamie’s lips, claiming his mouth as thoroughly as his cock claimed his ass. Jamie moaned into the kiss, his body limp with surrender.
With a strength that belied his age, Jack hooked his hands under Jamie’s knees and lifted him clean off the bed, holding him suspended in the air. Jamie wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist, arms around his neck, as Jack began to jackhammer up into him from below, each impact driving a sharp cry from Jamie’s lungs. The muscles in Jack’s arms and shoulders corded with the effort, a beautiful, brutal display of power.
He laid Jamie down again, folded him almost in half, driving his cock in a relentless, deep angle that made Jamie scream. He flipped him over, bent him over the arm of the couch, took him against the flimsy trailer wall that shuddered with every impact. Through it all, his pace never flagged. He wasn’t just fucking; he was performing a retrospective of his greatest hits, each position a testament to a career built on endurance and skill.
Jamie was a mess beneath him—sweat-soaked, babbling, marked. “Daddy… oh god, Daddy… don’t stop… gonna make me come… yours, I’m yours…”
Jack felt his own climax coiling, a tight, urgent spring in his gut. He focused on the sight beneath him: the perfect, used hole accepting him over and over, the slender body convulsing with pleasure, the beautiful, ruined face. He leaned down, capturing Jamie’s lips once more in a kiss that was more a sharing of breath.
“Gonna claim you slut,” Jack promised against his mouth, his thrusts turning short and vicious. “Gonna fuck this pretty slut ass every single day.”
Izzy’s voice cut through the haze, clear and satisfied. “Cut.” She stood up, a slow smile spreading across her face as she looked at Jack, still sheathed inside his step-son. “Well, fuck. Jack Ames is back.”