Chapter 5: Going Deep
The air in the study was still, heavy with the promise of something Eddie couldn’t quite name. Robert’s eyes held his, a warm, assessing gaze that felt like a physical touch. “Let me see,” Robert said, his voice a low rumble as he moved closer.
His hands, broad and calloused, came to rest on Eddie’s hips. Eddie felt the heat of them through the thin silk of the thong straps. Then Robert’s fingers slid beneath the waistband, tracing the circumference of Eddie’s waist with a possessiveness that made Eddie’s breath hitch. The material was pulled taut, and then Robert was kneeling behind him, his strong hands spreading Eddie’s cheeks apart.
Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the cool study air on his exposed hole, followed immediately by the warmth of Robert’s breath. His nose was mere inches away. Eddie stayed perfectly still, a statue of muscled submission, as Robert adjusted the pouch from behind, ensuring his balls were snug. The intimacy was staggering, clinical yet profoundly indecent.
Then Robert was moving around to the front, still on his knees. He hooked a thumb into the front pouch and pulled it open. His hand, soft and sure, slid inside. Eddie gasped as those fingers cupped his heavy sac, rearranging his cock so it lay flush inbetween his balls. Whilst not hard, he was fully flushed now, a thick, leaking line of pre-come already painting his scrotum. He didn’t care. Robert had the measure of him now, had seen the hungry, responsive animal he was beneath the obedient boyfriend and trainee mechanic’s guise. Hiding was pointless.
“Should I check yours as well, just in case?” Eddie chuckled, the sound strained.
Robert laughed, a rich, deep sound that vibrated through the floorboards. “Later,” he promised, his hands finally leaving Eddie’s body to rest on his own hips. Their clothed bulges were a whisper apart. Eddie smiled, a real one, and pulled on the pair of tight green shorts and the loose black vest Robert had handed him.
Robert led him to a pair of floor-to-ceiling curtains that Eddie had assumed were just window dressings. With a theatrical flourish, Robert pulled them back. Behind them was not a window, but a vast, flawless mirror.
Eddie stared. He was taken aback. The reflection showed two men, one young and densely built, the other mature and powerfully broad. The shorts clung to every curve of their quadriceps, sculpting their asses and blatantly outlining the substantial swell of their cocks. The vests hung loosely, gaping at the sides to reveal slabs of pectoral muscle, the hard nubs of their nipples, the dense forests of hair on their chests and arms. They looked… formidable. Potent.
Robert moved behind Eddie, his hands on Eddie's hips, his lips brushing Eddie's ear. “I think we’re ready to get sweaty, don’t you?”
A thrill shot straight to Eddie’s groin. “Let’s do it.”
The initial assessment was conducted with a surprising, detached professionalism. Robert had him move, bend, reach. His hands were everywhere—guiding the small of Eddie’s back, pressing between his shoulder blades, testing the give in his hamstrings as Eddie tried to reach for his toes.
“Good to look strong,” Robert murmured, his voice close to Eddie’s ear as he pushed gently on his back, “but what matters for life, and for sex, is flexibility and stamina. You’re locked up here.” His thumbs dug into the tight cords of Eddie’s hamstrings. “Hip flexors, too. Lower back needs strengthening, your upper posture is collapsing forward. You hold your tension like a clenched fist, son. We need to open you up.”
He explained each point, his tone that of a skilled craftsman discussing a project. The clinical nature of it, juxtaposed with the sheer physicality of their proximity, was its own kind of arousal. Robert was a fortress of control.
“We’ll start with a blend of things,” Robert said, stepping onto a mat he’d unfurled. “Yoga, Qi Gong, calisthenics. Follow me.”
They began with Child’s Pose. Eddie folded forward, his forehead on the mat, ass resting on his heels. Then Robert’s weight settled over him, a warm, heavy blanket of muscle. He lay fully on top of Eddie, his chest to Eddie’s back, his groin pressing into the cleft of Eddie’s ass, pushing him deeper into the stretch. Eddie groaned, the air forced from his lungs, his cock compressed and throbbing against his abdomen.
“Breathe into it,” Robert instructed, his own breath warm on Eddie’s neck.
Next was Downward Dog. Eddie pushed his hips toward the ceiling, trying to form an inverted V. Robert stood behind him, his hands gripping Eddie’s hips. "Try to move your heels towards the floor, alternate them one at a time, like you're riding a bike." His thumbs found the globes of Eddie’s ass and pressed inward, parting them, slipping into the damp cleft where the silk thong had ridden up. The pressure was electric, a direct line to his core.
“Donkey kicks,” Robert commanded, moving to kneel in front of Eddie as Eddie lifted a leg behind him, bent at the knee. Robert was right there, his crotch level with Eddie’s face. The thick bulge in Robert’s shorts almost touched Eddie’s nose with each upward kick. The musky, clean scent of him—soap and male skin—filled Eddie’s senses. It was horseplay, a distraction, but the sexual energy was a live wire between them, crackling and undeniable. Eddie could see it clearly now: Robert was a man who understood need, who wielded his own sexuality like another tool, with precision and intent.
“Now lunges,” Robert said, his voice dropping another octave.
He positioned himself directly behind Eddie as Eddie sank into a deep runner’s lunge. Then Robert pressed forward, his front meeting Eddie’s back. The hard, hot line of Robert’s cock nestled firmly into the cleft of Eddie’s ass, held apart only by two layers of thin fabric. Robert’s arms came around him, one hand splayed on Eddie’s belly, the other on his chest, pulling him upright to correct his posture.
“This,” Robert murmured, his lips against the shell of Eddie’s ear, his hips making a minute, grinding adjustment, “is going to be a hard one.”
And he wasn’t wrong. The burning stretch in Eddie’s hips was no joke. He’d had no idea that he was so locked up here.
Robert’s left hand moved to the seizing tension in Eddie’s left hip, rubbing a deep, penetrating warmth into the knotted muscle. His fingertips, strong and deliberate, brushed against the straining outline of Eddie’s cock through the green shorts as he worked. Eddie moaned. It was a raw sound, torn from him by equal parts discomfort, muscular effort, and blunt, unavoidable arousal.
Robert pressed forward, pushing his groin more firmly into the cleft of Eddie’s ass to deepen the stretch. Eddie’s breath hitched, coming in short, sharp gasps as the fire in his ligament bloomed brighter.
“Breathe gently, son,” Robert murmured into his ear, his voice a low vibration against Eddie’s skin. “Not with your chest. Down into your belly.” As he spoke, his hands traveled up the front of Eddie’s vest, his thick fingers slipping in through the wide arm holes. They found Eddie’s nipples, those tight, eager buds, and began to circle them with a feather-light, maddening precision.
Suddenly, the stretch felt easier. His breaths came more easily, deeper, as if the simple, electric pleasure of that nipple play somehow rerouted the pain signals in his nervous system. The focus shifted from a tight band of agony to a diffuse, buzzing pleasure that radiated from his chest.
Then Robert was easing him back, guiding his body with firm pressure. He moved Eddie into a kneeling seiza position on the mat, and then settled directly behind him, mirroring the pose but with his own knees wide, framing Eddie’s seated form. Eddie was cradled between Robert’s powerful thighs.
“It’s a real tough one, that,” Robert whispered, his lips grazing the damp skin of Eddie’s neck. “But you did well, son. I’m proud of you.” His hands never stopped their slow, hypnotic circles on Eddie’s nipples, his thumbs occasionally flicking over the hardened peaks. Eddie’s head lolled back, finding the solid shelf of Robert’s shoulder, his body giving into the rest after the intense strain.
“Other side now,” Robert said, his voice firmer, a command. He helped Eddie shift, his hands guiding Eddie’s limbs with an effortless authority that Eddie found himself obeying without thought.
The process repeated, a mirrored ritual of pain and relief. Robert eased him into the deep lunge, his body a solid wall of heat at Eddie’s back. He pushed, his groin grinding slowly, insistently, into Eddie’s ass, deepening the stretch until Eddie saw white spots behind his eyes. Just as the breath began to stutter again, those clever hands found their way inside the vest, the rough pads of Robert’s thumbs resuming their torture on Eddie’s nipples. The pleasure washed over the pain again, a delicious, confusing tide that left Eddie panting and achingly hard.
After this side was done, Robert didn’t return to the center of the mat. Instead, he sat with his back against the side of his massive desk, his legs spread wide in a V. He patted the floor between them. “Come here.”
Eddie moved, his muscles singing, and sat between Robert’s thighs, Robert directing him to bend his knees, the soles of his feet pressed together. He leaned back, his spine slotting against Robert’s firm, hairy chest. Robert’s arms came around him, not restrictively, but in a loose, possessive hold.
“Rest now,” Robert said, his voice a comforting rumble in Eddie’s ear. “That was hard.”
Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “It still is.” He arched his back slightly, pressing his own undeniable erection against the cradle of the tight clothes, then pushing his ass back into Robert's groin. “And so is yours.”
Robert chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of them. “I think our cocks will always be hard when we’re together, son. We’re just wired that way.” His hands slid down, palming the full, heavy outline of Eddie through the shorts, a casual, acknowledging squeeze.
“It seems that way,” Eddie agreed, his voice husky. He felt boneless, utterly spent and yet crackling with a restless energy. The silence that followed was comfortable, thick with the scent of their sweat and the fading woodsmoke from the fireplace.
Robert’s fingers traced idle patterns on Eddie’s belly. “You’ve been very game,” he said after a while, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve experienced a lot in a short time. You’ve probably guessed at some things.” He paused, his breath warm on Eddie’s temple. “I want this to be an honest relationship, Eddie. You can ask me anything. But,” he added, and his hands stilled, “that also means I can ask you anything in return.”
Eddie’s mind, fogged with exertion and arousal, scrambled. The question of Robert and MJ’s physical relationship surfaced instantly, a dark, thorny thing he’d been avoiding. But he wasn’t ready to ask that yet, wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. He swallowed, his throat dry.
Finally, he spoke. “I am an open book. I’m happy for you to ask anything, really.” He took a breath, gathering his thoughts. “I guess my question is about your methods. What’s the… like… meaning of it? Like, if this was a class, what would be the mission statement?” He winced internally. “Does that make sense? Maybe it’s dumb…”
“No, no,” Robert replied quickly, his arms tightening just slightly in a reassuring hug. “That’s a very astute question. Something I spent a lot of time asking myself when I realized how suited I was to this… calling.”
He shifted, and Eddie could feel the hard length of Robert’s cock press more insistently against his lower back. “I was very lucky to have a sexual tutor when I was at college. Someone who saw what I needed before I did.” Robert’s voice took on a distant, reverent quality. “I learned many techniques, many pleasures. But the core lesson was this: the point of pleasure, of receiving pleasure, is to learn the point of giving pleasure.” His hands moved up to Eddie’s chest again, his thumbs pressing down on both nipples with a sudden, electrifying pressure that made Eddie jerk. “Until you have truly experienced sexual ecstasy—the kind that unravels you, that makes you weep and beg and thank God for the capacity to feel it—you can’t possibly know what it means to give it. You can’t be a true lover. You can only be a taker, a selfish recipient.”
He released the pressure, his touch softening to a caress. “My mission, Eddie, is to teach ecstasy. To guide someone to that precipice where pleasure and pain and surrender all blur into one blinding light. So that they, in turn, can learn to guide others. It’s a chain. A sacred, fucking beautiful chain of release.” Robert’s lips found the edge of Eddie’s ear. “Do you want to learn how to receive that, son? Truly receive it?”
Eddie took a moment to think. He considered how in the few short days he had known Robert, his world had exploded. The levels of pleasure had been unknown to him until now, and there were darker depths to delve into clearly; his confidence and self control had also increased. Not the cockiness he hid behind, but his ability to exist in the world as he is. Not trying so hard. "I do, Sir. I really do."
Robert's lips found Eddie's neck, Eddie's head automatically turning to give him access and feel the pleasure of Robert's attentions. "Excellent," Robert breathed onto his skin.
Robert pulled his head back. "Now, my turn. Why weren't you honest with me last night?"
Eddie was confused. "Wasn't I?"
"No," Robert said with a sigh. "You weren't. I spoke with Mary-Jane after you left and she said you were asking about previous boyfriends. What relationship they’d had with me. How many there had been. How long they lasted. You didn’t tell me about that conversation."
"Shit," Eddie said, the words rushing out. "I am sorry. I totally forgot. Honestly."
A moment of silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of the fire. Robert’s expression was unreadable.
"Ok, son, I believe you. But tell me now. Why are you asking and what do you want to know? Those questions are for me. Understood?"
"Understood, Sir. Dad." The word felt different now, weighted with a new shame. "I really am sorry." Eddie couldn’t believe there were tears in his eyes. He blinked, trying to force them back.
Robert turned Eddie to face him, both men now sat cross-legged in front of each other on the mat. A tear rolled down Eddie's cheek and he tried to laugh it off as silly. "Fuck, I’m being stupid."
"No," Robert said, his voice soft but absolute. "It isn't silly. You let me down and you are showing an emotional response to that. That makes me happy." He reached out, cradling Eddie’s jaw in his broad hands. "Because it means you take this more seriously than you realise."
He held Eddie's face in his hands and Eddie let the tears fall. Robert let them fall over his thumbs and allowed Eddie to feel his feelings, his grip firm and anchoring.
"Good boy," Robert said, leaning in to kiss the remaining tears away, his lips brushing the wet tracks on Eddie’s cheeks. He planted a final, firm kiss on Eddie's mouth, a possessive stamp that tasted of salt and forgiveness. Eddie couldn't help but smile, a fragile, relieved thing.
"Do you still want to know?" asks Robert.
Eddie sniffed, composing himself. "Yes, please. I’m curious."
Robert settled back on his ass, his posture perfect, his gaze direct. "There have been six men before you, since I'd come into Mary-Jane's life. Three of them ran away from the first test. Couldn’t handle the idea, got scared, made excuses. Two realised they were gay, fully, my attentions just… clarified it for them. One realised he wasn't right for Mary-Jane after their first sexual experience. They just didn't fit."
He picked at a thread on the mat. "Those last three spent some time with me, learning some things. But none of them holds a candle to you, Eddie. You’re receptive, but not passive. Curious, but not overly academic, like you’re ticking boxes. Willing, but not desperate." Robert’s eyes found his again, intense and warm. "You're a very special young man. I see a lot of myself in you."
Eddie let the words sink in, the validation a balm. A sly grin broke through. "A lot of yourself, or just those nine inches?" he said, trying for innocence, but couldn't help but laugh.
Robert roared with laughter, the sound booming in the quiet study. He grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and they toppled over, rolling about the floor, dissolving the remaining tension in a scuffle of limbs and guttural laughs.
"Careful, old man, I wrestled in school," Eddie grunted, trying to get leverage.
"Then you'll have to bring your wrestling singlet next time," Robert said, breathless, finally managing to pin Eddie’s shoulders to the ground with his superior weight and experience. Eddie struggled, feeling the hard press of Robert’s body, the coarse hair of his chest against his own through their vests, the unmistakable, thick ridge of Robert’s erection grinding against his hip. It was a fight, but it was also a dance, a prelude.
Robert held him there, both of them breathing heavily, smiles fading into something more concentrated. The playfighting had stoked a different, hotter fire.
"Right," Robert said, his voice dropping to a gravelly command. "Break's over."
Robert released him, standing with a grunt and offering a hand. Eddie took it, pulled upright into the charged space between them. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a focused intensity that made the air feel thinner.
“Forward fold,” Robert instructed, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Feet hip-width. Soft knees.”
Eddie complied, bending at the waist, letting his hands dangle toward the polished floor. Robert moved behind him immediately. His hands, warm and authoritative, settled on the crests of Eddie’s hips, thumbs digging into the dimples of his lower back. Then Robert pressed forward, his groin a firm, unyielding heat against the cleft of Eddie’s ass, the layered fabric doing little to disguise the thick, hard length within Robert’s shorts.
“Relax into it,” Robert murmured, applying steady pressure. Eddie groaned as the stretch in his hamstrings deepened from a pull to a bright, singing ache. Robert’s pelvis ground minutely against him, a slow, circular massage that had nothing to do with flexibility and everything to do with ownership. “Good. Breathe. Let me support you.”
Next, Robert guided him to sit on the mat, facing him. “Pancake. Legs out as wide as you can.”
They mirrored each other, the soles of their feet pressing together, knees splayed outward like two open books. Holding each other's hands, Robert went first and, incredibly, folded himself forward with a fluid ease that stole Eddie’s breath. His chest descended toward the floor, his whole torso dipping low between his own spread thighs, aiming directly for the tented green fabric over Eddie’s crotch.
“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, watching. Robert’s forehead came to rest gently against Eddie’s swollen cock. He could feel the heat and weight of it. Robert turned his face, his stubble scratching through the material, his nose nudging the heavy outline of Eddie’s balls. Eddie’s hips jerked involuntarily.
“Steady,” Robert said, his voice muffled by Eddie’s cock. He held the pose, a display of both profound flexibility and blatant eroticism. Eddie reckoned, with a dizzying jolt, that Robert could easily take him into his mouth from here if he chose to. the men took turns, Eddie barely able to make it half of the distance Robert was capable of. But it let him know what was possible.
“Now squats,” Robert said, unfolding himself without a hint of strain. He positioned himself flush against Eddie’s back once more. “Deep ones. Ass to heels.”
Eddie sank down, the burn in his quadriceps immediate. Robert descended with him, his body plastered to Eddie’s back, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s torso. Each descent pushed Eddie’s ass back firmly into the cradle of Robert’s groin. Each rise brought a grinding, upward slide. Robert’s cock was a rigid bar against his tailbone. Eddie could hear Robert’s ragged breaths in his ear, could feel the older man’s control fraying at the edges with every intimate, thrusting contact.
“Last one,” Robert growled, finally stepping away. He fetched a heavy kettlebell, its iron cold and ominous. “Swings. Hinge at the hips. Thrust forward. This is about power from your center.”
Eddie gripped the handle, hefting the weight between his legs. As he began the pendulum motion, Robert’s hands were on him again, correcting, guiding. One large palm spread across the small of Eddie’s back, fingers splaying over the curve of his ass, feeling the clench and release of the glutes with each swing. The other hand pressed firmly against the front of Eddie’s pelvis, the heel of it riding dangerously low, brushing the root of his cock where it strained against his shorts with every forward thrust.
“There!” Robert barked, as Eddie powered the weight up. “That’s the spot. That’s where your pleasure lives, son. And your strength. They’re the same fucking thing.”
Then, it was done.
Eddie dropped the kettlebell with a thud that shook the floor. He stood panting, sweat rivers tracing the valleys of his muscles. He felt pulled apart, reassembled. Muscles he never knew existed throbbed with a dull, satisfying ache. His cock was a painfully hard ache of a different kind, trapped and leaking precum that had slicked the inside of his shorts.
It felt phenomenal.
“Jesus,” Eddie gasped, bending over, hands on his knees.
Robert, also breathing heavily, clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a natural. A fucking quick study.” His eyes were dark with approval and something hungrier. “Now, as a cool down, and a well done for all this hard work, I would like to start your work on learning about pleasure.” He wiped his brow with his arm. “You said you are ready and open to my techniques. Is that still true?”
Eddie looked up, meeting that gaze. The memory of Robert’s philosophy—the point of receiving pleasure is to learn the point of giving it—echoed in his heated blood. “Yes, Sir. It is. I am very eager.” He gave a weak, breathless laugh. “Although I may need a minute to get my energy back first.”
“No need,” Robert said, his voice dropping to an intimate rumble.
He took Eddie’s arm, not asking, leading him to the deep leather armchair by the fire—Eddie’s armchair, it seemed now. He sat Eddie down firmly. The leather was cool through the damp shorts. Robert retrieved a folded wool blanket from a chest and laid it precisely on the floorboards in front of the chair. Then he knelt.
No words were said.
Eddie’s heart slammed against his ribs. He knew what was about to happen. He hadn’t had his cock sucked in months. The idea of a man doing it had never been a conscious desire, but Robert was different. This wasn’t about fantasy; it was about curriculum. He understood now, viscerally, how important it was for Robert to show him.
Robert’s hands went to the waistband of the tight green shorts. He peeled them down Eddie’s thighs, taking the sodden, silk thong with them. The cool air kissed Eddie’s damp skin, making him shiver. His cock sprung free, fully erect, thick and flushed dark, curving up toward his navel. A string of translucent pre-come gleamed in the firelight, dripping onto his stomach.
“As I said,” Robert began, his eyes locked on Eddie’s cock, “understanding how to receive pleasure is the first step to giving it back.” He pushed the clothing down to Eddie’s ankles, pulling them off entirely. “Even if the person isn’t your heart’s, or cock’s, ultimate desire, being with someone who understands the mechanics, the techniques… it teaches you possibility.” He looked up, his gaze fierce. “I’m not just sucking your cock because you’re a hot man I feel drawn to, but because I want you to give Mary-Jane the best experiences she can have and I want you to know what your body is capable of. Know what to expect. Know how to return it. Do you understand?”
Eddie swallowed, his throat tight. He nodded, his voice a husky scrape. “I do. And I hope I can live up to your expectations.”
Robert’s mouth quirked. “Well,” he said, his attention returning to the heavy, waiting flesh. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Eddie’s cock was big—eight and a half inches of thick, veined muscle—a fact he’d known from locker room glances and pornographic comparisons. It had always been a point of lonely pride and quiet frustration. Girls would try, but their efforts were shallow, all teeth and timid lips, a performance that looked more painful than pleasurable. They’d take the head and a little more, gagging gently, and he’d end up feeling like a burden.
Robert just stared. He didn’t touch it yet. His hands moved up Eddie’s calves, over the trembling muscles of his thighs, mapping the territory. His palms were smooth, his touch deliberate. Eddie’s cock twitched in response, a fat droplet of pre-come welling from the slit and rolling down the shaft.
Then Robert leaned in. He didn’t go for the cock. He buried his face in the thatch of coarse, dark hair at Eddie’s groin. He inhaled deeply, his nose nuzzling through the sweat-damp curls, a low, animal sound vibrating from his throat. The sensation was outrageous, primitive. Robert’s stubble scraped the tender skin of Eddie’s inner thigh, his hot breath washing over his balls.
“God, you smell good,” Robert muttered, his voice muffled by Eddie’s flesh. “Clean. Like hard work and male spice.” He nosed lower, tracing the tight seam of Eddie’s scrotum, inhaling the essence of him. His tongue darted out, a hot, wet stripe along the perineum, teasing the pucker of Eddie’s ass that was presented so openly from this angle. Eddie cried out, his hands flying to grip the arms of the chair, his hips bucking off the seat.
Robert was preparing him. Worshiping him. Turning the simple act of a blowjob into a ritual of scent and taste and anticipation. He lapped at the base of Eddie’s shaft, collecting the beads of pre-come, his nose still buried in the thicket of pubic hair as if drinking him in. The filthy, intimate attention was more arousing than any direct touch could have been. It shattered every reservation. This wasn’t just a guy sucking his dick. This was Robert, a master, demonstrating how to truly consume someone.