Spike's Dream Match! Part 4 - Cowboy Style

Spike jolted up with a start, a whimper, and then a whine. Poor boy still felt the effects of the match. Was probably smarting real good. Colt smiled at his work and gave the good sport another kiss.

“You okay, boy? Welcome back to the world of the living. You’re safe now, right in your cowboy’s arms. Not gonna hurt you no more. You learned real well today, didn’t you?”

Spike groaned. “Ugggh….”

He was a real cute one. But he was dopey as hell, and he seemed to prefer unconsciousness. Colt encouraged him with a gentle few pats to the cheek. “Come on, son. Wake up now.”

Spike took in a deep breath, his eyes flitting open. “What happened?” he asked softly.

Colt laughed and gave him another quick kiss on the check, holding him very close—and not about to let go for the world. “You got struck down by lighting, son.” He hugged the boy, cradling him, kissing the back of his neck.

“Fuck,” Spike said, out of frustration and resignation. He smiled. “Wow. Losing never felt so good. Thought I felt my damn neck snap!”

Colt laughed. “Pretty sure it did, boy. But I fixed you up. Thank goodness for the soma and for the fact you’re with a consummate gentleman and professional.” He held Spike, rocking him slowly and playfully in his arms, giving him another kiss on the back whenever the feeling took hold. “I know how to hurt boys carefully, and I wouldn’t let anything devastating happen to you. Not for the whole world. You got a promising career ahead of you, boy, and I’m not gonna waste ya just for being a smartass.” He smiled though, a glint in his green eyes. “Still, a deal is a deal. And now you gotta give up that ass of yours.”

Spike winced at the thought, then nodded. As if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Colt…I can…barely move.” He groaned again.

Poor damn thing. Colt shook his head. The stud was adorable, wasn’t he? “Here now,” he said, putting his palm on the back of the young upstart’s neck. “Hold still.”

Another gentle, soothing charge ran from Colt’s hand into Spike’s spine, causing the boy to shiver.

Now Spike was drooling again for different reasons. How could one man cause so much pain and pleasure in one go? “Ssshhhhh…Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Colt chuckled. He couldn’t help but turn Spike’s head around and kiss him on the lips this time. “Boy, I can be gentle too with my power. Heal you up. You ever hurt--you come to me, okay?”

With that said, Colt reached down into Spike’s gear and wrapped is fingers around his cock, massaging it up and down.

Spike moaned. “Oh…sir.”

“Yeah, boy. Damn, I keep saying 'boy' but you’re really a man with a thick hog like that, ain’t ya?” Another kiss. "Bick cock. Huge ass. Yeah, you're going to be my new favortie toy alright."

Quite the compliment. But again, Spike was at a loss for words. “Oh, fuck…that feels so good.”

Colt reached down and pulled Spike’s gear clean off him, then he did the same for himself. On their knees now, the two spellbreakers turned and faced each other.

Spike was so far gone, transported to a fantasy he never thought possible. His eyes travelled down his hero’s sweaty, muscle chest, down his abs, to the thick rod between his legs. Colt wasn’t exactly horse hung—though he did have an impressive set of balls—but he was thick. A real corn-fed cock. Spike almost drooled again, despite himself.

Colt seized up his prey and whistled. “Damn beautiful,” he said, then gently pulled Spike’s face into his own, making out with him as if he was a young stud back in high school again. “Damn beautiful,” he repeated. Then, he pulled Spike in tighter, gently placing his thick cock on the young, hung stud’s impressive member, rubbing up against it and reminding him he was still the man here.

“You like that son,” Colt asked. He held him tight, pressing his muscles against his charge.

Spike’s answer was a muffled moan. He couldn’t help it. He pressed his face into the crook of Colt’s neck, letting the muscle man embrace and grind against him. He was almost embarrassed at the amount of pre cum he was leaking onto his mentor. His hero.

“You lubing me up, boy?” Colt laughed, looking down at his now glistening organ. “Look at that. Virile like a real ponyboy, huh?” He kissed Spike again. "Now, I’m gonna take your ass soon, boy. You still good with that?”

“Fuck yeah,” Spike said, more sure of anything in his damn life. This match may have been a squash job, but he was gonna show this cowboy that he was still a damn stallion. Spike, of his own volition, freed himself of his hero’s grasp, turned around and gave him a coquettish smile. Then, his signature bicep flex, before he got on his hands and knees and his prize-winning muscle ass out for the winner.

He could have knocked Colt out instead with that! “DAMN!” the cowboy whistled in awe, his hands going hungrily for his cock on the double. “Now that’s your finishing move right there, son! What a bubble butt.”

Now Spike was in his element. He blew his hero a kiss and spreads his cheeks further to give him a better look at the spoils of victory. “You know it, sir. Do you want to take your trophy boy?”

“Hell yeah I do,” Colt said, trying desperately not to salivate all over the canvas like a horny schoolboy. "That is one damn pretty hole." Then, he shook his head. He was getting ahead of hismelf. “Hold your horses though, little stud. We gotta do this the right away.” The cowboy got up, the shadow of his erection swaying over the mat, and strutted over to the ropes. Spike watched him bend over and slide through, taking in the glorious sight of the cowboy’s muscular backside and swinging cock. It was hard to imagine him riding horses when he himself seemed to embody one.

Spike waited patiently on hands and knees, giving himself a tug but mindful that he wasn’t too far off from shooting his load. When Colt last sauntered back into the ring—clad only in his boots of course—the older spellbreaker knelt down to his boy, gave him another encouraging kiss, and held out his lightning-bolt embroidered vest, the garment Spike had always associated Colt with the most.

“You know,” Colt started, motioning for Spike to get up and onto his knees, “I used to get hard as hell when I saw my hero Big Jim Hoss kicking ass in the ring. Probably felt just like you did. Now, Big Hoss had a little tag team apprentice of his own, a younger guy with bright eyes and the cutest damn smile you’d ever see. Just like you, little stud. And the way he’d look at his older tag partner from the ring, all starry-eyed like how you look at me. Well...it drove me wild. And at the end of the match, after the bigger guy had kicked some jobbers ass for his boy, the more experienced spellbreaker would strut over and put his vest on his young partner like this.”

He held out the vest for Spike, who—in reverence—stretched his arms out to receive it.

“Here, I’ll do it. You wanna give me a flex, little stud?”

Spike was happy to oblige. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to pump his biceps out as hard as they would go, letting Colt feel up his peaks.

“Damn, little stud,” Colt said, grazing his apprentice’s muscles with lips. He slid the vest over his stud gave it a tug and looked at his young admirer. He couldn’t help let a string of precum drip down onto the canvas for him. “Aw shucks, you do look good in that.”

“Oh, wow!” Spike said, feeling the touch of pleather against his skin. It made his cock twitch even harder.

“Fuck you look so good in that,” Colt said, turning Spike over onto his hands and knees again. “I may not last long, boy, which is probably to your benefit. Now, on all fours now, ponyboy. That’s good. That’s a good, little stud. You’re my little stud, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Spike said longingly, feeling his hole pucker up at his master’s touch. “I’m your little stud.”

“Damn, look at this hungry ass. I’m gonna need to…”

Spike’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he felt Colt’s stubble on his hole, and then his tongue. The sensation drove him wild, and even wilder still as the muscle hunk drover his tongue in deeper. This couldn’t be the first time he’d eaten out a guy.

“OH FUCK!” Spike moaned, more of a scream. “Oh fuck that feels unreal.” He giggled to himself, “Now that should be your new finisher.”

“Oh, there’s a lot more I could do with my electricity. But we’ll save that for another time.”

His shoulders to the canvas and ass up in the air, at the mercy of Colt’s merciless tonguing, Spike felt like he might pass out all over again from the pleasure. The man was a machine with his tongue, it was almost like he was fucking him. And his beard stubble  was the cherry on top. Usually Spike’s partner had to stop for air (something he prided himself on) but Colt was absolutely relentless in devouring his hole. There was even a moment when Spike nearly tapped.

Fortunately, or not, Colt relented, having watched Spike practically leak like a faucet onto the mat. He laughed. “Boy, you sure are close, ain’t ya?” He leaned over, almost crawling onto Spike, taking him onto the shelter of his muscle and letting the boy feel his heat and sweat against him.

“Now, son, I’m not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you. You know the difference?” Before Spike could answer, Colt scooped him up from the front and pull him up as he stood over him and bent over, showing his sweaty, bull nuts into Spike’s face. “See these balls and this cock, son? There’s a reason they call me 'Colt'. I’m gonna treat ya like a fucking mare, son? You understand?” He pushed Spike’s head down to the mat with his boot again, proud of the boy for getting into position without asking.

He readied himself from behind, lowering Spike’s impressive ass and then spreading his cheeks. He played with his hole with his fingers, and then began to rub his shaft against it, watching it tense and dilate around his cock head, ready to take it in. The little stud was in heat. So, Colt grabbed the lubricant he’d brought in, a bottle that said—to his great amusement—‘Cowboy Juice’. He rubbed the slick, velvety substance on his fingertips and slowly, but firmly, began exploring his little stud’s insides.

“Fffffuck,” Spike moaned.

“Damn boy, that’s just my finger. You ready for more? Gotta open you up if you’re gonna be able to take your hero’s girth.”

“Y-yeah….ungh….you’re pretty thick?”

“Though you knew that from watching all my matches. Seeing me get nice and hard whenever I won. You must have known I was a thick country boy.”

After prying Spike open, Colt leaned in again, gave his student a kiss on the neck, and whispered, “Ready?”

“Fuck yeah, sir.”

It was bigger than Spike anticipated, and the fingering only did so much. Spike bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out as he felt Colt go in and go in deep.

“Relax, boy. Yeah, that’s it. You hold it good. Damn, you’re tight. This bubble butt of yours has got a fucking grip.” He slapped his boy’s ass again. “Relax. Let it adjust for a bit, boy. Because once I ride you, I ain’t stopping.”

“Fuck yeah, Colt, sir. Fuck yeah, ride me.”

“Heh. You’re wearing my vest, so you’re the cowboy here now, ain’t ya?”

The older spellbreaker started his thrusts, but he might as well have been jack hammering. Spike moaned and clung onto the canvas before Colt repositioned his own hands across the ropes. He white knuckled it, squeezing onto the ring ropes for dear life as his own idol relentless dove in and out of his hole.

He paused to let Spike breathe, before leaning in again and whispering. “What am I doing to you, son?”

“…ungghh…”

“Am I fucking you, boy?”

“No, sir. You’re breeding me.”

“That’s right boy, I’m breeding you good.” He began his thrusts again, hard and deep. “Gonna flood that tight little ass of yours soon, boy. This hurt?”

“Fuck, it hurts good, yeah.” Truthfully it was probably like being mounted by a damn horse. Thank goodness Colt wasn't bigger, or Spike would have probably tapped.

“Just relax. Don’t need to worry. Your hero is here. He’s got ya. Good boy. Good little stud.”

Spike was on another planet. The pain gave way to a pleasure he’d never felt before. “You’re hitting…my....ahghh...” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.

“I’m a cowboy, son,” Colt said, breathlessly, as he rutted his little stud, the sound of his hips on Spike’s ass echoing throughout the room. “But right now you’re about to see I’m more of a horse. Ah fuck that’s good. Damn, your ass is TIGHT. Fuck!”

“Ram me.”

“I’m gonna fucking rut you, boy.”

“FUCK. COLT. FUCK.”

“Boy, I’m gonna…Ah fuck this is gonna be big. I’m sorry kid. I’m gonna fucking nut in you so hard.”

“Breed me, sir! Please!”

Spike turned around to see his hero in raw, primal ecstasy. The cowboy tensed up, all of his muscles flexing at once, as he cried out, “OH FUUUUUUCK!”

Spike felt something warm enter him, accompanied by a pleasant, numbing feeling—a by-product of Colt’s release. The cowboy sounded like he’d just been stabbed in the gut, but his expression was one of pure bliss as he unloaded in his little stud’s ass.

After gathering his breath, Colt pulled out. Spike didn’t even want to imagine the mess leaking out of him. He could feel it, and his hole gaping wide. Felt like he’d just been cored out from the inside, and it was a miracle that he hadn’t cum himself. He was close.

Colt leaned back, starved for air. Eventually, he laughed to himself and wiped his brow, before giving Spike a pat on the ass. “You okay? Almost knocked you out twice.” He grabbed his still pulsing member and then traced the outline of a lightning bolt on Spike's left, red cheek. "Heh. I just cow-branded you boy. Your ass is my property now." Then, he leered down at Spike’s wet cock, pulsing against the canvas between his legs. “How about a third time?”

Spike winced. He would feel this tomorrow for sure. “What do you mean, sir?”

Colt smiled at him knowingly, before he kissed him on the lips again. “You’ve been a good ponybohy. But after that, I think I turned you a full on breeding stud. So, let’s put you to use, little stud—wearing my vest like that so fucking hot.”

To Spike’s surprise, Colt then turned around, his abs still wet with his own cum, and spread himself out before Spike. He didn’t look like on of Spike’s former, fellow pinup models—boyish and coquettish, but a real muscle man on display. A bull ready to accept his male mate’s seed.

“I want to show you how to fuck a real man,” Colt said softly.

It almost felt like sacrilege, Spike thought. “You!?”

“Whole else, ya little dummy? Come on. Lube’s right there. You’re vers, right?”

Suddenly, the biggest, stupidest grin crossed Spike’s face, and he felt his cock stiffen even harder. “Fuck yeah I am.”

“Then come on, little stud. Show me how much of a cowboy you are and ride your big hero.”

It had been a minute since Spike topped, but he remembered very quickly as he lubed up his hero’s big, muscle but. It was like hard steel, Spike found, as he pawed it, staring in awe. Colt was a man’s man through and through, but it looked like he maintained and groomed himself well. Spike mentally noted that for later, as it left him many questions about just what Colt got up to when he wasn’t running the training academy.

"Can I sniff it, sir?"

"Sure you can, boy."

Even dirty by Spike's standards, he lost his mind as he buried his face between Colt's hole and taint, getting a good whiff of his balls. Musky and sweet. Spike's eyes rolled back in his head as he salivated.

"Smells like a real man, huh?"

Spike couldn't take it any longer. He edged his cock against Colt's hole, pushing it in. He almost gasped at how the big stud practically gobbled it up, forcefully taking it in of its own accord. His ass practically devoured Spike’s cock, pulling him into his horse-like hindquarters.

It was tighter and warmer than Spike was used to, and the burst of pleasure so intense that he almost came right then and there.

“That’s a little stud. What you waitin’ for? Come on and ride this cowboy good.”

Spike started thrusting, but his movements were more of a romantic lover, and not a force of nature or animal like Colt. Comparatively, he was gentler, more unsure.

“Oh fuck.” Again, Spike’s eyes rolled inside his head. He couldn’t believe he was topping his hero, and the sore pleasure from his own breeding session only added onto the sensation. He sensed his prostate could only take so much before it let go.

“Yeah, that’s a real muscle ass, son. You ain’t gonna last long in me, are ya, boy?”

Colt was damn right. Every thrust drove Spike closer to the edge, and the sight of Colt’s vest swinging off own his pecs only forced him closer. If this was what being a cowboy was like, then hell, maybe it was time for a career change after all.

“You gonna give me your load, little stud?” Colt growled. He was a pro at this! “Fuck, boy, you really are still a little ponyboy, ain't yeah. Thrust harder, boy! Come on, make me proud.”

Spike did, grunting, testosterone surging through him as he became something animal. “Gonna do you proud, sir!”

“That’s right, son! Fucking losing your mind in my ass, boy. Oh yeah! Fuck me real good, boy. That’s a good boy. That’s my little stud. What are you, boy?”

“Y-y-your little stud.” Spike was at the edge. Close.

“Damn right, y’are! Yeah boy, pump it just like that. Fucking go at me boy. Fucking mount that ass.”

“COLT. COLT. I’M GONNA CUM. I’m gonna cum so hard.”

Spike was at his limits. He thought he felt himself coming, but the wind-up only went deeper. Deeper still. The tension between his prostate and his cock was like nothing he ever felt before. This was almost like the feeling before Colt’s killer piledriver—Spike’s knowing that something impactful was careening towards him.

Every molecule of serotonin inside Spike’s brain, every last endorphin, fired off at once as Spike came harder than he’d ever shot in his life. “No…I’m…” He was incoherent, all grunts and cries as he shot his load into his hero’s ass. “FUCK, COLT, YOU’RE A STUD.”

Colt was right about nearly blacking out. Spike had never come close to fainting from... well...coming. It just wouldn’t stop. Ropes and ropes shot out, and Spike had to bite his tongue from flat out screaming and embarrassing himself. Finally, when he felt he might pass out, and no single breath seem like enough, Spike pulled out, watching a river of his own spunk leak out of his hero's puckering hole.

Then, Spike fell back onto the canvas and closed his eyes. This bliss was indescribable. Only lovers, monks, and hard drug users could ever know a rapture like this.

He felt a masculine form embrace him, prop his head against his chest, and Spike dipped into reverie.

Or rather, out of one. It was dark. Then light again. Reality shifted. Spike was...coming to, awakening.

Spike opened his eyes, looking up at the lights above the ring. He blinked. Something was off here. Different. When he turned around, half expecting to see Colt, he nearly jumped back at the sight of a masked man with handsome, shining eyes.

“Wake up, little guapo.”

Spike looked down at the load he’d made coming out of unconscious. Knocked out. He had been asleep. Dreaming. A very good dream. And now, a muscle-bound luchador was cradling him in his arms, helping him come back to the world of the living.

“What…happened?” Spike said, looking around. He felt wet. He'd just made a mess all over the canvas. How embarrassing! 

“You lost a match to the Warrior of Love!” Victor said, pumping his boulder-like pecs up and down. “If you don’t remember—and I do not blame you if you do not, as my finishers are very powerful—I challenged you after you were so cocky about being Cian. He put me up to it, in fact.”

That absolute dick! Spike seethed. But he was in no mood to get scrappy, having just had his neck squeezed and his balls unloaded. “How--how long have I been out?”

Victor laughed. “Not long, handsome. I got you with my finisher. Pumped you full of good feelings while I put you to sleep. It’s a by-product of my power. Must have been a real good, wet dream.” He shook his head. “Why did you keep saying Colt’s name over and over again, anyway?”

Spike blushed. So it had all been a dream. Oh well, it had been a very good dream at least. No, this was for the better. Sometimes the fantasy was preferable to the real thing, and he was dead sure he would never be able to face Colt again if they'd actually fucked.

Spike leaned back into Victor's muscular arms, and the Luchador gladly embraced him. "You know, V-man, I have to say--losing never felt so good!"