Chapter 3: Kneeling for Worship
The words hung in the space between them, a sacred, filthy prayer.My good boy. They vibrated in Matthew’s chest, a validation so profound it liquefied the last of his fear. He was here, on his knees, and he was good.
Abraham’s hand remained fisted in his hair, not pulling, just holding.Anchoring. His other hand came down to cradle his own balls, lifting them slightly, presenting them. “You did so well with your mouth here,” he said, his voice thick with an authority that brooked no argument. “Now show me what that pretty mouth can do with the rest of me.”
Matthew needed no further invitation. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Abraham’s as commanded, and opened his lips. The broad, flushed head of Abraham’s cock pressed against them. It was warm, slightly salty from the bead of pre-cum he’d tasted earlier. He took it in, just the crown, letting his tongue swirl around the rim beneath the foreskin.A sharp, guttural sound came from above him. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”
Encouraged, Matthew pressed forward, trying to take more of the impossible girth.He could feel his jaw beginning to protest almost immediately. This wasn’t like anything he’d seen or imagined; the sheer size of Abraham was a physical challenge. He relaxed his throat, breathing through his nose, and pushed further. The head nudged the back of his throat. He gagged, eyes watering, and pulled back, a string of spit and pre-cum connecting his lips to the shining tip.
“Shhh, easy,” Abraham murmured, his thumb stroking Matthew’s cheek.“Don’t hurt yourself. You don’t have to deep-throat this monster all at once. Work with what you can take.”
The permission, the care in the command, undid Matthew completely. He dove back in with renewed focus, using his hand to fist the base of Abraham’s shaft while his mouth and tongue lavished attention on the upper half. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, tracing the thick, ropy veins with the flat of his tongue. He took the head as deep as he could tolerate, again and again, establishing a rhythm that was part worship, part hunger.“Look at you,” Abraham breathed, his composure fracturing. His hips gave a small, involuntary thrust.“Your mouth was made for this, wasn’t it? For sucking cock. My cock.”
Matthew moaned around him, the vibration drawing a deeper groan from Abraham.The taste was everywhere now—musky, clean, intensely male. Pre-cum slicked his tongue, a bitter-salt essence that was purely Abraham.He loved it. He wanted to drown in it.
Abraham’s grip in his hair tightened, guiding his pace now, setting a deeper, more demanding rhythm.“That’s it.Take it.Good boy. Such a fucking good boy for me.”
The praise was a drug. Matthew’s own neglected cock throbbed painfully in his jeans.He surrendered completely, letting Abraham use his mouth, setting the depth and the speed. Tears streamed from his squeezed-shut eyes, a mixture of effort and overwhelmed emotion. He was a thing being used, and it was the most whole he had ever felt.
“I’m gonna come,” Abraham warned, his voice strained and low, a rough scrape of sound. “You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop.You understand? You don’t spill a taste.”
Matthew redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head fiercely, saliva dripping down his chin onto Abraham’s balls below.He was a mess.He was perfect.
Abraham’s thrusts lost their measured control. They became short, sharp jerks of his hips, pushing his cock deep into Matthew’s throat.Matthew gagged but held, his nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base. With a choked-off roar that was more animal than man, Abraham shuddered. Matthew felt the first violent pulse against the back of his tongue, followed by a hot, sudden flood of bitter salt.
He swallowed reflexively, once, twice, three times. The taste was overwhelming, a claim laid on his senses. Abraham kept coming, and Matthew kept swallowing, milking the last drops with his lips and tongue until Abraham’s body went taut, then slumped, sated.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths. Abraham gently eased his softened cock from Matthew’s mouth with a soft, wet pop.He looked down, his eyes heavy-lidded, face flushed with release. Matthew knelt before him, lips swollen and glistening, face wet with tears and spit.
Abraham leaned forward, his hands coming up to frame Matthew’s face. He wiped a thumb through the mess on his chin.“Look at you,” he said, his voice soft, almost wondering. “Absolutely fucking perfect.” He pulled Matthew forward and kissed him, deep and searching, tasting himself on Matthew’s tongue.It was a claiming of a different sort, intimate and devastating.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Matthew’s. “Stand up.”
Matthew’s legs were numb. He stumbled, and Abraham caught him, his strong arms pulling him upright and then leading him to the bed.He pushed Matthew to sit on the edge. “Now you,” Abraham said, his voice returning to that calm, controlled tone.He knelt on the floor, the roles reversed. He looked up at Matthew, his warm brown eyes holding a new, unreadable tenderness mixed with command. “You gave me what I needed.Now I give you what you need. But you come when I say. Not before.”
He undid Matthew’s jeans, pulling them and his briefs down just enough to free his aching cock. Matthew gasped as Abraham’s large, warm hand closed around him.He was already leaking, painfully hard.But Abraham didn’t use his mouth. Instead, he spit into his own palm, slicking his hand, and began to stroke him with a firm, relentless rhythm.It was too much and not enough. The sight of Abraham, the man he’d obsessed over, now kneeling between his legs, hand working his cock with a focused intensity, was the most erotic thing Matthew could conceive.His hips bucked.
“Look at me,” Abraham commanded.Matthew forced his eyes open, meeting that gaze.“You did so well. You took it all.You swallowed me.Now you give your control to me. You come when I tell you.”
The words coiled the tension in Matthew’s gut impossibly tighter. He was hurtling toward the edge, a desperate, whining sound caught in his throat. Abraham’s thumb swiped over his leaking tip, spreading the wetness.The pressure was brutal, exquisite.
“Please… Sir… please,” Matthew begged, his body trembling.
“Not yet,” Abraham said, his stroke slowing, becoming agonizingly deliberate. He was playing him, stretching the moment until Matthew thought he would shatter from the sheer need.Abraham leaned forward, his breath hot against Matthew’s thigh. “You’re mine now. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” Matthew whimpered, the truth of it absolute.“Now,” Abraham said, his voice a soft crack of authority.
The permission unleashed him. Matthew’s back arched, a broken cry tearing from his lips as his orgasm ripped through him. It felt violent, a convulsive surrender that left him seeing white at the edges of his vision.Abraham stroked him through it, his hand gentling as the last pulses faded.
Silence descended, broken only by their breathing. Abraham stood, fetched a towel from his nightstand, and carefully cleaned Matthew, then himself. He pulled Matthew’s clothes back into place with a practical gentleness.
He sat on the bed beside Matthew, who felt boneless, hollowed out, and profoundly rearranged. Abraham put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into the solid heat of his side.“This changes things,” Abraham said quietly, staring at the wall across the room. “You’re not just a curious neighbor anymore.You’re in this. With me.” He turned his head, his lips brushing Matthew’s temple.“It gets more intense from here. The control.The demands. You need to be sure.”
Matthew, nestled against him, felt a safety he’d never known.The fear was gone, replaced by a deep, resonant certainty. He had asked for a lesson in squat form and had been given a lesson in surrender. He had chosen to kneel.He had chosen to come back.
He tilted his head up to look at Abraham. “I’m sure.”
Abraham searched his face for a long moment, then nodded, a single, decisive dip of his chin.“Okay,” he said. Then, softer: “Okay, good.” He held him there as the last of the golden light faded from the room, into a blue, collaborative dusk.
He held him there as the last of the golden light faded from the room, into a blue, collaborative dusk. The silence was a physical thing, thick with the scent of their bodies and the weight of what had just happened. Matthew’s mind, blissfully empty, began to slowly refill with a nervous, tingling awareness.The arm around his shoulders was solid, real. Abraham’s thumb absently stroked the seam of his t-shirt sleeve. It was a casual touch that meant more than the command to swallow.This was the aftermath, and it was somehow more intimate than the act itself. Matthew feared breaking the spell.Abraham finally moved, a slow shift of muscle beside him. He didn’t pull away but turned his head, his lips brushing the shell of Matthew’s ear. His voice was a low rumble, no longer gentle. “You’re sure.” It wasn’t a question this time.“Yes,” Matthew whispered, the word barely audible.
“Then the talking is done.” Abraham stood in one fluid motion, the loss of his warmth immediate. He looked down at Matthew, his face in shadow, his expression unreadable. His hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushed them down just an inch. He palmed himself through the fabric, a deliberate, coarse gesture.A thick outline swelled instantly under his touch.
Matthew’s mouth went dry.His own completion moments ago felt like a distant memory, a prelude. This was something else.Abraham’s eyes never left his. He grabbed his own cock, a firm, possessive squeeze through the gray cotton.“Get up.” Matthew stood, his legs still unsteady. Abraham leaned in close, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that vibrated in Matthew’s chest. “Come to my room. Since you’re mine now, tonight I’ll show your ass how to be fucked by my monster cock.”
The crude, direct words were a shockwave. They stripped away the last vestiges of tender afterglow, replacing it with a sharp, thrilling dread.This was the next threshold, vast and terrifying. Matthew’s heart hammered against his ribs.He followed Abraham’s broad back down the short hallway. The bedroom was darker, lit only by the ambient city glow bleeding around the edges of the blinds. It smelled like clean linen and Abraham’s soap.The bed, unmade, seemed enormous and full of intent.
Abraham stopped beside it.He turned.“Clothes.Off. Now.” His tone brooked no hesitation, no romance.Matthew’s fingers fumbled with his buttons, his breath coming in short, shallow pulls. He peeled his shirt off, let his jeans and briefs fall to the floor. He stood naked, exposed in the dim light, while Abraham just watched, fully clothed, one hand still casually cupping his groin.“On the bed. On your hands and knees.” Abraham’s command was cold, clinical.It ignited a fire in Matthew’s gut.
He crawled onto the cool duvet, the fabric rough against his palms and knees.He assumed the position, head down, ass raised. He felt unbearably open, vulnerable.The air on his skin was a whispered promise of violation. He heard the rustle of fabric behind him, the sound of Abraham undressing.
Then, the bed dipped heavily. A warm, large hand smoothed over the curve of his ass, a touch that was almost appreciative.“You have no idea what you’ve asked for,” Abraham said quietly. The hand left. Matthew heard the click of a cap, the wet, slick sound of lube being poured.A lot of it.“Breathe out,” Abraham instructed. A slick, blunt pressure nudged against his hole, not Abraham’s cock, but a thick, lubed finger.It pushed inward without ceremony, a burning, stretching intrusion.Matthew gasped, his back bowing. “Relax. You have to take this first.” The finger worked deeper, crooking inside him, scissoring gently.The burn began to subside into a strange, full feeling.
A second finger joined the first, and the stretch intensified, a sharp, bright pain. Matthew buried his face in the duvet, a muffled groan escaping him.“It hurts,” he breathed.
“I know.” Abraham’s voice was close now, his body heat radiating against Matthew’s thighs. “It’s supposed to.This is just my hand. My cock is twice this thick.” He pumped his fingers slowly, relentlessly, working the lube deep. The pain began to mutate, blending with a peculiar, shameful pulse of pleasure as the fingers brushed a spot inside that made his vision blur.He cried out, a sharp, unmanly sound.Abraham removed his fingers. The empty feeling was worse.Then, Matthew felt it. The hot, heavy drape of Abraham’s cock against his ass cleft.It was massive, a soft-skinned weight of unbelievable proportions. Abraham rubbed the swollen head up and down his crease, spreading slickness, teasing the clenching, waiting hole.“Put your head down,” Abraham ordered, his voice strained with control. “And don’t you fucking move.”
The broad head pressed against him. It was wider than anything Matthew had ever felt.It pushed, resisted, then pushed again.A relentless, gradual invasion. Matthew whimpered, his fingers clawing at the bedding. The pressure was immense, a splitting, burning fullness that didn’t stop.He felt his body being forced to accept it, millimeter by agonizing millimeter.
Abraham let out a grunt, a deep, animal sound of effort. With a final, devastating thrust, he sheathed himself fully.Matthew screamed, a raw, torn sound lost in the fabric. He was impaled, filled beyond any concept he possessed. It was painful, profoundly so, a deep ache of complete occupation.
“Christ, you’re tight,” Abraham groaned, his hips flush against Matthew’s ass.He didn’t move, letting Matthew adjust to the staggering girth. Tears streamed down Matthew’s face.It was too much.It was everything.
Then Abraham pulled back, a slow, excruciating drag that made Matthew sob with the sensation. And he pushed back in. The pain was still there, a bright core, but around it now bloomed something else—a shocking, electric friction that sparked along his spine.Again. Abraham set a rhythm, deep and punishing, each thrust punching a choked sound from Matthew’s throat.
The burn faded into a relentless, overwhelming fullness. Abraham’s pace increased, his hips slapping against Matthew’s ass with a wet, brutal music. His hands gripped Matthew’s hips hard, fingers digging in, holding him steady for the taking.“This is what you wanted,” Abraham gritted out, his breath hot. “This is what being mine feels like. Taking my monster cock in your ass.”
The filthy words, coupled with the brutal, physical reality, shattered Matthew. The pleasure-pain coalesced into a single, white-hot point of existence.He was being fucked.Really, truly fucked. And he loved it.A broken, delirious moan tumbled from his lips.
“You like that, don’t you?” Abraham’s thrusts became harder, faster, losing their measured control. “My good boy likes getting his ass ripped open.” He leaned over, his chest plastered to Matthew’s sweat-slick back, his mouth at his ear.“Come for me. Come on my cock while I wreck you.”
The permission, the command, the sheer obscene physics of it pushed Matthew over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him untouched, a convulsive, blinding seizure that clamped his body around Abraham’s driving length. He shouted, his voice breaking, as his cock spilled onto the duvet beneath him.
The violent contraction of Matthew’s body pulled Abraham over the brink. With a final, bone-deep thrust, Abraham stilled, buried to the hilt. Matthew felt the hot, sudden flood deep inside him, a pulsing claim that seemed to go on forever. Abraham collapsed over him, his weight a crushing, perfect anchor, his breath roaring in Matthew’s ear.They stayed locked together until Abraham softened enough to slip out. He rolled onto his back beside Matthew, who crumpled onto his side, spent and shaking. The feeling of being empty was now its own strange agony.
After a moment, Abraham’s hand found his, lacing their fingers together on the damp sheet.The touch was quiet, human. The city glow painted stripes across the ceiling.Neither of them spoke. The only sound was their slowing breath, and the faint, wet sound of lube and spend leaking onto the bed.
The wet spot cooled against Matthew’s thigh, a stark reminder of the violation that still echoed in the deep, throbbing ache within him. Abraham’s hand, still intertwined with his, was the only point of warmth, an anchor to the reality that he had not shattered into pieces. The city’s hum seeped through the window, a distant world that held no meaning now. Matthew’s mind floated, detached, in the space between pain and a strange, conquered peace.
Abraham broke the silence first, his voice rough but quiet.“Look at me.” Matthew turned his head on the pillow. Abraham’s face was close, his brown eyes reflecting the dim light, studying him with an intensity that felt surgical.He reached out and wiped a lingering tear from Matthew’s cheek with his thumb. “That was a lot.You feel it, don’t you? That deep, stretched-out feeling.” It wasn’t a question.Matthew nodded, a slight movement. He did feel it—a cavernous, tender emptiness that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. “Good.” Abraham’s lips curved, not quite a smile.“That means you did it right. You took it all.”
He pushed himself up on one elbow, his muscular frame blocking the ambient light. His gaze traveled down Matthew’s body, a possessive inventory. “Stand up.” Matthew’s limbs were heavy, uncooperative, but he pushed himself off the bed. The floor was cool under his feet.He felt exposed, the air chilling the sweat on his skin. Abraham sat on the edge of the bed, his own nakedness a powerful, casual fact. “Come here.” Matthew took a step forward, into the space between Abraham’s knees. Abraham’s hands settled on his hips, warm and firm. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Matthew’s lower belly, just above his limp cock.The kiss was shockingly tender. Then Abraham looked up, his eyes dark and serious.“You’re mine now.Every part. You understand that?”
“Yes,” Matthew whispered, the word tasting like truth.
“I don’t share what’s mine with just anyone.” Abraham’s hands slid back to grip Matthew’s ass, fingers pressing into the sore muscles. “But tomorrow, you’re going to come back.Earlier. Seven sharp.” He pulled Matthew closer, until his soft cock brushed Matthew’s thigh.“I have a friend coming over. Me and him… we’re going to have some fun with you.”
The words landed like stones in Matthew’s gut.A friend.Fun. The images were immediate and visceral, shocking in their clarity.Not one man, but two.The careful control Abraham wielded, multiplied. The vast, terrifying trust he’d just placed in this one man now stretched to include a stranger. His breath hitched.Abraham felt the tremor run through him.His grip tightened.“Look at me. Don’t get lost in your head.” Matthew forced his eyes down. Abraham’s expression was unyielding.“This is the next step.This is what being mine looks like. He’s a part of my world. And now, so are you.” He gave Matthew’s ass a sharp, stinging smack.The pain was bright, clarifying. “Understood?”
The ache inside him deepened, a blend of soreness and a terrifying, nascent thrill. The ghost of Abraham’s monstrous cock inside him seemed to twitch in memory. This was the cost, and the reward.He had asked to participate.He had chosen to kneel. This was the reality of that choice, expanding beyond the walls of this room, beyond the two of them. A wave of dizziness passed over him, part fear, part a dark, submissive pride. He was being claimed, not just in secret, but openly, in the eyes of another.He belonged.
“Understood, Sir,” Matthew said, his voice steadier than he felt.
Abraham held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded once, a final seal on a contract. He released him and stood, his naked body a silhouette of pure authority.“Get dressed.Go home.Sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” He turned and walked toward his bathroom, the conversation clearly finished. The water in the sink turned on.Matthew moved mechanically, pulling on his clothes. The fabric felt alien against his skin, a mundane shell over the profoundly altered landscape of his body. The faint, musk-and-lube scent of Abraham clung to him.He paused at the bedroom door, looking back. Abraham stood at the sink, splashing water on his face, utterly relaxed, as if the evening had contained nothing more remarkable than a workout.The casualness of it was its own kind of lesson.
Matthew slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.The hallway was antiseptic and quiet. In his own apartment, the silence was a roar.He didn’t turn on the lights. He went straight to the window, to his old vantage point. Abraham’s bathroom light was on now, the sheer curtain drawn.He saw Abraham’s blurred shape move past, a towel around his waist. He stopped at the mirror. Then, as if feeling the weight of the gaze from across the alley, he turned.He looked directly at the dark window where Matthew stood. He couldn’t possibly see him, but he knew. Abraham raised his hand, not a wave, but a single, deliberate finger pointing directly at him, held for a count of three before turning away.The message was unambiguous. I own you.I see you.Come back tomorrow.
Matthew stepped back from the window, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.He was his. And tomorrow, someone else would know it, too.