Chapter 12: Spin Cycle Submission
The stale beer taste from the party had finally faded, replaced by the dry cotton feeling in his mouth that always came after. Derek hauled the heavy wicker basket down the basement steps, the scent of mildew and detergent growing stronger with each step. The laundry room was quiet, a stark contrast to the remembered chaos from last night. The only sounds were the low hum of a dryer and the rhythmic slosh of a single washing machine in the corner.
He dumped the contents onto the sorting table—a tangled mess of Nate’s sweat-stiffened t-shirts, his own jeans, and the unmistakable, cum-stained sheets from Nate’s bed. The evidence of what they’d done. A fresh, hot flush crept up his neck. He grabbed a pod of detergent, his movements brisk, trying to outrun the memory of Scott’s release dripping out of him onto that very fabric.
The heavy footfall on the stairs made him freeze. He didn’t need to turn around. The shift in the air, the dominant presence that seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room—it was Nate.
“Couldn’t wait to clean up your mess, could you?” Nate’s voice was a low rumble, laced with amusement. He came up behind Derek, so close his chest brushed against Derek’s back. His hands landed on the table on either side of Derek, caging him in.
“It’s just laundry,” Derek said, his voice tighter than he intended.
Nate chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. He pressed his hips forward, the hard ridge of his erection unmistakable even through his jeans. “Bullshit. You’re down here reliving it. I can smell it on you. That little Omega spark is already flickering again.”
Derek’s breath hitched. He was. The clean, mundane act of sorting clothes had somehow become obscene, the stains a roadmap of his own degradation. Nate’s hands slid from the table to his hips, turning him around with effortless strength.
“Look at you,” Nate murmured, his gaze dragging over Derek’s face. “Still looking fucked-out and used. It’s a good look on you.” He backed Derek up until the cool, vibrating glass of the washing machine door pressed against his ass. The spin cycle was a violent tremor that traveled straight up his spine.
Nate didn’t waste time with words. He unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding free with a whisper of promise. He shoved Derek’s sweatpants and boxers down in one rough motion, the fabric pooling around his ankles. The cold air hit his exposed skin, followed by the heat of Nate’s body.
“Spread your legs.” It wasn’t a request.
Derek complied, his heart hammering against his ribs. Nate spat into his own palm, slicking his cock with a few rough strokes. He positioned himself, the broad, insistent head of his dick pressing against Derek’s entrance. It was still loose, still tender from the night before.
“Fuck,” Derek gasped as Nate pushed in, not with a single thrust, but with a relentless, steady pressure that burned its way inside. The stretch was exquisite, a sharp, familiar pain that melted instantly into a deep, consuming fullness.
Nate buried himself to the hilt, his hips flush against Derek’s ass. He held there for a moment, letting Derek feel every inch. “God, you’re still so open,” he grunted, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel where Scott was. You’re just a used-up little hole for us, aren’t you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled back and slammed home, setting a brutal, mechanical pace that perfectly matched the thrumming vibration of the machine. The wet, squelching sounds of his thrusts were loud, obscene, drowning out the hum of the motor. With each drive forward, Derek’s body was jolted against the glass door. Inside, the tangled jockstraps and soiled sheets tumbled past, a lewd carousel mirroring the act itself.
“Yeah, take it,” Nate growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of Derek’s hips, holding him in place. “Your ass was made for this. For getting fucked raw against whatever piece of furniture I decide to bend you over.”
Derek’s head fell back, a broken moan escaping his lips. The combination was overwhelming—the hard, unyielding surface of the machine, the deep, internal friction of Nate’s cock, the filthy, rhythmic sounds of their bodies meeting. His own erection was trapped between their stomachs, leaking pre-cum onto Nate’s shirt. He was close, so close, the pleasure a tight coil in his gut threatening to snap.
“You gonna come again?” Nate taunted, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. “Gonna spill all over yourself like a bitch in heat without me even touching your dick?”
The words, the sheer dominance in his tone, were the final push. Derek’s orgasm ripped through him, violent and unstoppable. His channel clenched viscously around Nate’s cock as he came, hot stripes of cum painting both their stomachs. He cried out, a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the concrete walls.
The violent clenching of Derek’s body around him was all it took. Nate drove in one last, deep time, his own roar joining Derek’s cry as he emptied himself inside, his release a hot, pulsing flood that filled the already spent Omega.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, pinned together by sweat and spent passion, the washing machine’s cycle finally clicking to an end, leaving a sudden, ringing silence. Nate slowly pulled out, the sound wet and final.
He tucked himself back into his jeans, his breathing already returning to normal. He looked down at Derek, who was slumped against the now-still machine, trembling, covered in their mixed releases.
Nate reached out and ruffled Derek’s hair, a gesture that was almost affectionate if it weren't for the predatory glint in his eyes. “Get this laundry done. And take a shower. You smell like a whorehouse.”
He turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing on the stairs, leaving Derek alone in the sudden quiet. Derek slid down the front of the machine, his legs unable to hold him. He landed on the cool linoleum, the scent of detergent and sex and Nate filling his lungs. He closed his eyes, the phantom vibration of the machine still thrumming through his bones. He was ruined, completely, and he knew with a terrifying certainty that he’d let it happen again. Whenever Nate wanted.