Thursday, September 29, 2022

Epilogue: The Sacred Isle

Once upon a time, there was a wise and spirited mariner, tasked with leading his men into battle. After a long, tiresome, and brutal war, he was to return home. However, he failed to placate the great god of the ocean, who sent winds to turn his ship off course.

Lost at sea, the mariner and his companions encountered many unusual trials, and faced monsters fearsome and strange. Soon, the mariner--who had not seen home in several years--realized that he had found a new family among his crew, who fought together shoulder to shoulder, and braved the most terrible storms.

Still, the wily mariner knew he would one day return to the place where it all began; and that there was something even greater out there, among the waters, calling him...calling him...

Sunday, September 25, 2022

Chapter 9: Love is a Battlefield

"You did WHAT?"

Camazotz Jr. roared into the handheld radio receiver, gingerly stepping over the body of an unconscious Aradia security guard. There was no need to keep his voice down, of course. All seven guards had fallen to him with little resistance. The wicked bat god turned a corner, ignoring the smell of mildew, steel, and old wood inside the dusty warehouse in Oaxaca. He still couldn't believe the boss had forced him to come out this far.

The radio crackled back. Even far away, Serpent's cold, deep voice inspired obedience. "Mind your tone when you speak to me, Junior." The man paused. "Am I not a man of honor? A deal is a deal. The GSA won. The Chalice is theirs. I told Colt where he can find Victor. This is out of our hands now."

Camazotz Jr. glared at a swinging lightbulb overhead, finally settling his eyes on the metal case set on the shelf, deliberately indistinguishable from the others. "You're just going to hand him over?" he sniffed, checking the label for the right serial number. This was the one. Inside was the Chalice that El Amante's bitch of a cousin had whisked away, right under his nose.

"I never said that. They'll still need to beat him and break the curse." 

"Well, that's all very well and good, but I'm already at Aradia's warehouse! I have the case with the chalice at my finger tips, just as you said I'd find it."

"Pull back, Junior. It's...over." 

This had to be a joke! Camazotz Jr. even suspected intentional sabotage, or a rouse.

Very well, then. A minor inconvenience. He had a plan B, anyway. What were years of allegiance to Serpent when someone else had already presented a smoother deal? Besides, it was in a rudo's nature to betray...

"Have you heard of the man in the Gold Mask?" Serpent asked. "Also known as The Jackal." 

Camazotz lifted the metal briefcase off the shelf. It was heavier than he expected. "You're talking nonsense, boss!" 

Serpent's tone was not insulted, or intemperate, but chillingly patient. "Camazotz Jr. Listen. I have spoken with this...man. I have made my decision based off the intelligence I have received. Los Venoms no longer shares a common interest with Firebird. For now, we assist the GSA. This is simply practicing good business, amigo. There's no sense in maintaining a dominion if there is nobody left to dominate, and if Firebird gets its way-"

"Traitor!" Camazotz Jr. spat. He couldn't believe this! "First T. Rex, now you? Cowards! I'll go my own way then."

"You are making a mis-"

Beep.

Growling, Camazotz Jr. switched the channel, welcoming the rush of new static. 

"No, Serpent. It is YOU who is mistaken."

The bat brushed aside fast food wrappers piled on the security desk and placed the case down. He dialled the frequency his contact at Firebird had given him. It was time to make a deal.

"Hello. This is the number, yes? Los Venoms is over. Consider this my defection. I will give you your chalice."

"Understood," came the unfamiliar voice on the other end. Was that a woman? Strange accent too...

"Grrr." Camazotz Jr. switched off the receiver and placed it next to the case. He sighed. What a shit night this had been.

Trying to recompose himself, he decided to check the contents. It would look very bad for him if he handed over an empty case, after all. He flipped the clasps up and opened the case. 

"Now...let's see...WHAT?"

He had barely time to register the arrow-headed snake, reared up and fangs bared, as it hissed and sunk its teeth into his hand.

"AGH!" Camazotz Jr. screamed, reeling back. He clamped his hand down on his bloody injury. He backed away. The snake slithered out of the case, onto the table, away from him. The box had been empty. Well, almost. Inside, a small cassette player, triggered by the opening of the case, started playing.

Camaztoz Jr. felt his head fog up and his body tingle. Something was wrong. He'd been envenomated. In a panic, he called out. "Someone...he-"

But his voice failed him, his muscles spasming. The paralysis took hold, driving him first to his knees, and then flat onto the ground. He shook and seized, eyes bloodshot and going wide. A trickle of foam poured out of his mouth.

Serpent's familiar voice came from the tape deck hidden inside the case. "If you're listening to this, Camazotz Jr., then you've probably realized by now that you've just made your last mistake. Nobody turns their back on Los Venom. Consider this my vengeance on behalf of Dark Sabre and his son, El Amante Intoxico. The slate has been wiped clean. Farewell, old friend. Til we reunite...in Hell."

As the light faded from Camazotz Jr.'s eyes, the broad, intimidating man watching from the shadows finally stepped out into the light between the shelves. In his hand, the topaz colored Chalice of Will.

Dressed in a proper button-up shirt and well-tailored pants (complete with an ammonite printed necktie) the masked T. Rex's eyes glimmered in the dark, matching his eerie grin. 

"Hehehe. Tough luck, little bat! Should have played nicer!"

---

"Now, you die, you worthless twink."

"Gee, Amante, you could at least do me the solid of spitting on me if you're gonna call me a worthless twink!"

The 'Dark' El Amante (Spike refused to call him by his new moniker, El Odio) held Spike up by the shoulders, several feet off the canvas. The beefy, brainwashed, masked hunk dug his claws in deep, bruising the fair skinned Spike's muscular shoulder muscles.

Inside the humid, misty auditorium, the audience held their breath, hands covering faces. Colt hung his head. "This is my fault..." he said under his breath. He'd already lost one student when El Amante turned 'dark'. Now, he was about to lose another. He prayed the soma would be enough to preserve Spike's internal organs and bones from being completely obliterated by El Amante. 

In the weeks since he'd been cursed by the Obsidian Tablet, Victor, or El Amante Intoxico, had ended every match by KO'ing his opponent and then digging in, long after the bell had rung. Curb stomps. Haymakers to the face. Bone-ripping holds. He had dismantled everyone who had gotten into a ring with him. By the second official match, he'd been disqualified, instead moving on towards the underground fight scenes in Central America.

Mr. Iron had been tracking his movements for weeks. El Amante was without a master. He had become a living force of sheer hate, compelled to brutality and violence. Just as Lily had warned, his was an insatiable bloodlust.

And now, Spike was in the ring with him, and in a very bad spot. His pretty noggin was about to be turned into flan.

Eyes burning bright green under the Tablet's curse, El Amante sneered at his prey. "You came into the GSA like you were the new alpha, forgetting we already had a bull in this stable. You're no stud like me, Spike. You're just a little boy. I think I'll rip your DICK OFF!"

"Woahhhhh," Spike said, choking back laughter. "I know the real Victor is in there, because that just sounds ridiculous!" He tried not to let the pain show on his face, even though he was forcing his legs to kick and struggle on instinct. "El Amante Intoxico is bad at heat; everyone knows it. His heart is too big to threaten. I mean, hell, you're the only guy I know who gives after care to his opponents!"

El Amante clamped down harder. Spike bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out.

"You'll believe me alright, when I hurricanrana your blonde head into porridge!"

"What the hell is porridge?"

"It's like a type of OATMEAL. NOW...Get ready to die!"

I'm really not ready to die, Spike thought to himself. He was out of options. 

Well, every option but one, he remembered, as his thoughts drifted back to the day before...strangely enough to the same place where he was probably about to end up (if he was lucky).

The hospital.

--- 

Shockingly, Spike had never found himself inside a hospital before. He chalked it up to the protection of his glyph. He'd sustained some pretty tough falls (without soma or other magickal intervention) in his 23 years on Earth, but his ability to transmute energy had always absorbed, or off-set, any impact. 

Walking through the brightly lit, sterile corridors of the lakeside hospital now, Spike was taken in by how efficient and focused the staff were. He'd grown up hearing a lot of prejudiced comments about the capabilities of countries below Texas, and he was glad to see they were all wrong. The place was state of the art.

After speaking with the receptionist, Spike followed the signs (using his rudimentary Spanish skills) to the correct wing and corridor. The halls were lined with large windows, letting in natural light from the beautiful landscape outside. Nurses chatted with patients, carting along IV drips, on mid morning strolls. Despite the inherent nature of the building as a place for the sick and injured, the atmosphere was lively and positive. Spike felt at ease.

A young, curly haired nurse laughed, walking out of Iggy's private room. "For the millionth time, it's a fine lyric. I'm sure you'll change it again the next time I come to check your vitals."

Yep. This was the right room. Spike tapped the green sticker on his navy striped, cut-off t-shirt, indicating he was a visitor. The nurse nodded for him to proceed.

At first, Spike didn't recognize the attractive, muscular figure sitting up in the hospital bed, a notebook in their hand. Iggy's pink-rimmed glasses were familiar, but his brunette hair was definitely not. He looked like a cross between a metal head and a high school secretary (and still, somehow, ridiculously sexy).

The androgynous Brazilian looked up and frowned on instinct, before their eyes filled with starlight. "Padrãozinho?" They said. Wincing, they pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "Or...am I in hell now?"

Spike gave them a sheepish shrug, and shut the door behind them. "Nah, it's just me." He looked around the room. It was pretty minimal. A blue privacy curtain. A bedside table. A notebook with pen rested in Iggy's lap. They wore a white, hospital gown. Behind them, the open window let in a fresh breeze from the clear day outside. 

Iggy grunted and gestured for their apprentice to approach. "Hugs. Now."

"Yes, mistress."

Spike leaned over, somewhat awkwardly, and found themselves pulled into Iggy's tight embrace. "No, Igg--"

"Oh, yes," Iggy said, laughing, smushing Spike's face into their chest. "You didn't think you'd escape a tiddy smother, did you? No bullet could stop me from that."

Spike laughed, holding onto their friend's big arm. It felt like comfort. "I was afraid. Please do not get shot again."

"But it was so much fun the first time! Ah, the healing hugs of a twunk. No better medicine."

Spike pulled back to allow them some breathing room. His eyes were on Iggy's IV drip. "Are you...okay?"

Iggy shrugged. "Nothing major. Here, I can even..." The spellbreaker tried to reposition themselves, legs swinging over the bed. But not even they could maintain a poker face. 

"Eeesh," Iggy said through clenched teeth. "That hurts good."

Spike's paternal instincts took over. "Hey, hey, don't stand up! Take it easy."

In typical Iggy fashion, the Light magi rebuffed him, forcing himself onto his feet. "The nurses want me to try standing. A little bit each day." He pointed to the window. "Push those curtains back and open the window. Now."

Still so bossy, Spike thought, hiding his eye-roll but otherwise doing as told. He threw back the curtains, letting in more light and air. "Woah..."

Outside, Lake Chucuito sparkled like polished silver. Cradled by green mountains, with a bright, blue sky overhead, it cast its own enchantment over Spike. Far off in the distance, Spike noted a golden aura coming from a distant island. He felt a familiar tug in his heart, the same sensation he'd experienced when he set eyes on the Chalice of Will.

It had to be the Isla Del Sol, the location of the Divine Wellspring. 

Iggy dragged his IV drip, on wheels, over to Spike's side. "Beautiful, no?" 

At last, Spike was able to free his eyes from the lake's spell. He looked over at Iggy. Beneath the hospital gown, he could see the faint outline of bandages and wraps across Iggy's hip.

"They hit me in the left quadrant," Iggy explained, with a proud smile on his face. The light from the outdoors made him shimmer. Even in hospital, the hunk was beautiful. "Dodged my intestines by less than a centimetre. My mother always did say I was born under a lucky star..."

Spike's heart was sore at the thought that he had even come close to losing his teacher. "How long do you think you'll be out?"

"Heh." Iggy sighed. "Longer than I'd like to say out loud. It's...fine."

Spike bit his lip. Sounded like it was anything but fine...

"I was thinking of taking a break from spellbreaking anyways and going back to music." They held up the notebook. There was a playful, almost childish excitement in their voice. "I've got almost a whole album's worth of material here, kitten! By the way, tell anybody you saw with my natural haircolor and I'll put you in here with me."

Spike gulped. "Gah! Yes, master. Um...but if it counts for anything, your hair looks great. In any color."

"Heh." Iggy smiled and brushed back their rock star mane, sending glittery sparkles out from their luscious locks. "Good kitten. My roots were coming in so I rinsed the pink out. I forgot how...'normal' I could look. It's disgusting, no?"

"Iggy, you would need to try very hard to look disgusting..."

Iggy smiled at their friend. They defaulted to silence, looking upon the beautiful waters of the sacred lake instead. "You know...it feels kinda weird being back on my home continent."

Spike blinked. A hamster in a wheel inside his brain went to work. "Oh yeah, Brazil!"

"Heh. You Americanos don't understand how vast and varied all the countries are in South America. It's familiar, and yet not. I've never been to Bolivia before." They smiled. 

"Well, that makes two of us. Was the transfer to the hospital a hassle?"

"No. Like I said, I'm very lucky. The doctors said I should be out within another week."

"Have you decided where you'll go next?"

A shadow crossed Iggy's beautiful visage. "Hmm. That entirely depends on what happens with Victor. I tell you, it's a damn good thing I'm stuck in this hospital. Otherwise, I would have destroyed the world to get him back."

Spike didn't doubt it. Iggy was scary, and had the magick to back it up. Sometimes, they reminded Spike of one of the villains from Kengo's manga. 

Still, Iggy was different with Spike than they were in-ring. He was more vulnerable, for one. But he never showed it n his voice. Still smiling confidently, Iggy said, "I...feel useless. It's almost an exciting, new feeling."

"You aren't." I am.

They shook their head. "Kitten, my lover has been enchanted by magick older than I can comprehend. I'm not just a good magi, I'm fucking brilliant. But this? This shit is above me." They turned back to their night stand and grabbed a cup of water. Spike wondered, briefly, if it was to disguise a restrained sob.

Even on the down-and-out, Iggy oozed charisma. There was something about them that made one want to lean forward and listen. "I've been in touch with my mother, the professor. She's looked into the matter. Enchantments like this are very hard to break. But there is one type of magick that could do the trick. The oldest kind in fact." Iggy laughed at the absurdity of it. "Cheesy as it sounds...it's 'love'. Well, more the complex neuro-chemical reactions we call 'love', but let's not split hairs."

Genuinely impressed that Iggy had been hard at work, even while struggling against injury, Spike took a moment to gather his thoughts. He grinned, ear to ear. "Master...how dare you say you were useless..."

Though Spike knew the compliment had probably landed, Iggy was off on their own tangent now, circling around the hospital floor, carting along their IV drip. It was an almost comical sight.

"Problem is, kitten, they really don't want me to try and face Victor myself, which is ironic, as I'm probably one of the few hunks in the GSA who could kick his ass. Maybe. I've fought him before, you know. It's how we met."

"Oh?" Spike said. "Who won that match?"

Iggy thought for a moment, and then winked. "That's a secret. Consider it an incentive for us to stay alive and get Victor back, eh?" He sighed, grasping his head--like an old, grand dame about to faint. "My fair Samuel Waterford. I am searching the cosmos for an answer to this predicament..."

Spike flinched at the sound of his own name, remembering that Iggy had recently heard his own boyfriend's real name for the first time ever. He decided not bring it up. It was probably for the best Iggy not relive that trauma, or even that moment of intimacy.

And besides all that, something more important had forced its way to the forefront of Spike's mind. He spoke it aloud as he recollected. "Love is a kind of energy."

"Huh?" Iggy blinked, flittering trough the pages of their notebook. "Did...did I write that lyric down?"

"No," Spike said, completely serious. "It's something someone said to me, recently. Look, stud, I...have never really believed in myself. 'Til recently, anyway. I'm just starting to understand my own powers."

"You are most welcome for that, by the way."

"Fair enough, Master, but listen. In the Navy, we learn that when all other options fail, we gotta' be inventive. Now, I haven't always been the most smartest person, but I've gotten a lot better. So, let's do something risky. Let's plan--"

"WAIT." Iggy suddenly shouted, causing Spike to nearly jump out of his sneakers. "Wait, wait, wait don't you DARE interrupt me now--I am having a moment of geniusssss."

Spike stood back, worried Iggy was about to explode. The light in the room grew brighter. Spike looked towards the window, at the sunlit lake, but soon recognized that light was coming from, well, Iggy.

The rock star spellbreaker tossed their hair back, sending a rainbow flurry of sparkles around the room. They conjured up a glowing, neon heart, orbited by a cycling ring of green arrows.

"Love."

"Yes. Heard of it before. Not that I would know..."

"Love is a kind of energy," Iggy said, flicking the circling ring of arrows around his light construct, sending them spinning faster. "It causes a pattern of synapses and electricity in the brain, with its own energy signature. And when it comes to Viki, kitten, I have that energy in abundance." They flicked the light, shattering it into glittery dust, before snapping their fingers at their student. "You. Come here."

Confused, and more than a little hesitant, Spike took a step forward. "Oh, ok--"

He forgot how quick Iggy could be. The hospital-bound spellbreaker wrapped their free hand around Spike's neck, pulling them in close. Intimately close. 

Spike promptly turned a deep red. "I-I-IGGY?" This wasn't the first time they had been intimate with their friend, but Iggy was always so damn intense when they turned on the charm.

Iggy stared down at Spike with eyes full of adoration. "Spike. I'll say this once. I am so grateful you've come into my life. I love seeing other perspectives. For someone so dumb, you really do make me think." 

Spike was at a loss for words. "Iggy..."

"I'm kidding about you being dumb, by the way. You know I think you're brilliant. And...I want to show it to you, from my heart. But also, I want to kiss you like I would kiss him."

!!!

Spike sputtered, but they didn't dare remove themselves from Iggy's iron grip. "WHAT! I don't understand."

"Oh, you will." Iggy winked. "Buckle up, kitten..."

For such a brutal fighter, Iggy's lips were the softest in the world. He kissed lightly, but powerful, with the tip of his tongue just coquettishly teasing the inside of Spike's mouth. Befitting a relentless warrior, however, Iggy didn't let up once he had their lips on you. Spike suspected he was really into making out...

But this time was different. Whatever Iggy was doing, it made Spike melt into an aether of ecstasy and warmth. He felt pure light wash over him, enter his body. Was this magick, or something else? He kissed back, mindful of Iggy's injury, but pulling him in tighter. It was only then that he had to remind himself that Iggy's heart belonged to another. What Spike would have given to experience this with someone else...

At last, Iggy let go.

Spike had to take a deep breath to prevent himself from stumbling backwards. "Oh...that was...better than sex." He looked down at his hands and arms. "Oh...I'm glowing again. Just like back in Vegas." He smiled.

Iggy winked. "Remember, what happens in Vegas..."

It was only then that Spike realized his glyph had activated. It was just something one knew, as a magi, a kind of warmth and electricity in the chest. "I feel...different," Spike said. "What just happened?" 

"I'll explain later," Iggy said, already withdrawing back to their bed, "but we just combined magick. Yours...and a type of magick for which the Goddess didn't even need to invent a glyph. The oldest magick of all. We might just have a chance now."

Spike didn't need to try and think about it. "I know what I need to do tonight." Even he was in awe of his confidence. "Shit, even three months ago I don't think I coulda' sound like that. I mean, who do I think I am, White Tiger?"

Iggy rolled their eyes. "Hopefully less of a goodie-two-shoes."

"You know goodie-two-shoes with an ass like mine?"

"Once you learn to think before you speak, you'll get somewhere far." Iggy poked Spike on the nose. "I can say this now, since it looks like I'll be out of the running for a good while, but...I think...you really do have a shot at being the next GSA champion."

Where was the catch? Spike stared blankly ahead, for several seconds, until he realized there was none. "...Iggy."

The wounded spellbreaker sat back down, with some discomfort, reclining like a Greek god on a dais. They yawned. "I mean, either you, Kengo, or Cian, anyway. So don't get your hopes up too much. Now, run along, kitten. Go get my boyfriend back for me." They winked. "Or I'll kill you!"

Saturday, September 24, 2022

Icewolf Scores!

 “Two hundred and…ninety nine…three hundred! Whew!”

Robbie dropped the dumbbell onto the padded floor of his dorm room. Smiling like an idiot, he turned to his friend Spike, sitting on the bed, as if to wait for the audience to applaud his efforts. 


Spike watched on, impressed. “Wow, Robbie! Your arms look huge, bro!”


“Don’t I know it, little bro,” Robbie said as he turned to (one of two) full length mirrors bolted to the wall. He flexed his swollen biceps. “Oh no, I think I might just turn myself on, little bro.”


Robbie was already a stunner to look at. With jet black hair, dark eyes, and a beautiful complexion, his giant muscles completed the package. This is probably why Spike had started inviting himself over to watch him do his “private workouts”. To be fair, Robbie liked the attention.


Shirtless, and pecs and abs dewed with sweat, Robbie let out a sigh. He motioned to Spike. “Protein me up, bro.”


Spike first looked down at the tent in his short-shorts, before quickly realizing Robbie meant the literal protein shake sitting on the nightstand. Spike tossed it to him. “Ooh and it’s vanilla flavored. You excited for your match with this…er…what’s his name again?”


“Hahaha, exactly, what’s-his-name!” Robbie, a bit of a himbo-jock with a simple mind (but big heart) laughed dumbly as he chugged down his vanilla protein shake. Spike watched, hungrily, as a dribble of white liquid traveled from Robbie’s full ips, down to his chin, and into the valley of his pecs.


“That little hunk’s name is Rexford Holt,” Robbie said, coming up for a breath. He looked down at the mess he’d made on his muscles, and frowned. “Hey, little bro, your favorite part…”


“On it!” Spike said, jumping up off the bed to perform his duty as “spotter”. 


“Nah uh uh,” Robbie scolded, snapping his fingers. He pointed to the floor. “Down, pup.”


“Yes, big bro,” Spike said submissively, getting onto his knees. “Can I now, big bro?”


“Totally, little bro.”


Spike wasted no time slowly, sensually licking the stray bead of protein shake from between Robbie’s salty, pectoral valley. Somehow, the sweat of post workout made it taste even better.


“Whoops,” Spike said as his tongue “accidentally” grazed over Robbie’s erect, brown nipple.


Robbie leaned his head back and let out a long, aroused sigh. “Bad pup,” he moaned, with a gentle laugh. He teased Spike by pushing his face into his workout shorts, rubbing his obvious bulge in his friend’s face.


Spike laughed and pulled away. “Hey, quit it, Icy! Hahaha. We can’t get distracted.” He looked up at him and smiled. “Even though I’d love to give you a nice, long, post-workout massage.”


Robbie smiled and picked Spike off the ground. “My sweetest bro! You’re right. Can’t get distracted. I gotta focus on the match. Can’t believe I gotta beat up some other dumbass named Rex, eh? These losers all have such uncreative names…”


Spike hopped back onto the bed and picked up the fight card information, scanning it for any tips he could give his new friend. Spike and Robbie, AKA Icewolf, had gotten very close since he’d joined the roster. The other spellbreakers suspected it was because they were so alike i.e. two, oversexed, muscle dumbasses. Secretly though, Spike and Robbie were both pretty smart in different ways. Spike was emotionally observant and street smart. Robbie was quick on his feet and was a great master of strategy, either on the hockey rink or in the ring. Robbie tended to be more aggressive and dominant, while Spike was usually submissive. They made a fine pair. Hell, if not for Robbie’s serious crush on their team mate Cian, Spike would have considered boyfriending him.


“Well, he weighs less than you, Robster, but he’s got a lot of wins under his belt.” Spike’s jaw dropped. “Robbie, it says he has a space glyph! He can teleport or ‘blink’ in battle!”


Robbie looked over his shoulder. “W-w-what!? I thought that glyph was like…non-existent!”


Spike cocked his head to the side, a perfect example of ‘human golden retriever’. “Huh. I wonder if it’s like when El Amante fought Camazotz Jr. He lied about his glyph too.”


Robbie growled, balling his meaty hand into a fist. “Nobody tries to pull the wool over Icewolf’s eyes. Because wool comes from sheep! And wolves EAT sheep!”


“Wowie, Robbie, you have such a way with words!”


“Don’t I know it, little bro! Now, lemme’ see this jobber…” With that, Robbie snatched the flier out of Spike’s hands. He looked it over for a second. Then, his face went red. He started to drool. “Oh d-d-amn, he’s cute as fuck…”



“I know, right!? And he hates humiliation.” As if devil horns sprouted on his angelic, feather-haired head, Spike made a mischievous expression and got on all fours, deliberately sticking his butt out for Robbie to gaze upon. “You know what I’d do to him.”


“Raaargh!” Robbie growled, slapping Spike on the ass. “Don’t get me going, little bro! I gotta focus. But you’re damn right, Spikey! I’m gonna sink my teeth into him so fucking hard. I just gotta bully him bad. Really make him rethink his career. Hahaha!!! Now, help me decide which jockstrap I should wear into battle. This is important!”


Robbie yanked off his pants in one fell swoop, giving Spike a full look at all of Icewolf’s finest Canadian exports. Robbie was the perfect ratio of thick and long, with a rounded head. Spike took great satisfaction that he was semi-hard around him.


But that ass, though. That was a hockey butt if Spike ever saw one. He was almost jealous, and he was the Pinup Prince. Robbie deliberately bent over to flex giant ass as he rummaged for a jock strap. “I’m thinking…the mint one? Or maybe navy blue.” He winked. “To honor my little bro, Spike!”


Spike crossed his legs, blushing. “Any color looks good on you, Robster!”


“Good answer,” Robbie said. He tugged the bright green colored jock around his waist and snapped the straps into place. His butt, large and muscular as it was, hung over them. “This little boy doesn’t know what he’s messing with, little bro! He’s coming into the wolf’s den…and he’s about to become my newest pup. Awroo!!”



Far from a pup, Rexford Holt was quite the alpha stud in his own respects. With an intimidating body of knotted muscles, and eye-catching trunks to boot, he looked every part the hero. If anything, his babyface was his only downfall. With a winning smile, both infectiously charming and cocky, the 24-year-old, 210 pound stud jumped out from behind the entrance curtain, his hands extended to the audience, and did an excitable spin. 


Wooo!” he yelled, before launching into a backflip and landing with a perfect pose. “Feast your eyes!” he encouraged the excited audience, with a flirty wink. He flexed his biceps, showing off his sporty yellow gear, marked with his intriguing logo. “But better keep them on me at allll times, or else…


With a crackle of light, Rex vanished from the entrance, perplexing the crowd and the ref, waiting in the wing.


Suddenly, he appeared behind a handsome fan, a jock type in a polo. Rex winked at the stunned stud and then kissed him on the cheek, turning him red. “For good luck,” Rex said, real friendly.


The jock blushed. “My…hero.”


“That’s always what I aim for!” Rex said, with a thumbs up. He blinked away to, who else but Sailorboy Spike, watching from the sidelines as a civilian!


In his tight, navy-striped shirt, Spike realized he might be recognized by fans (which was kind of his goal). He didn’t expect to be zeroed in on by other spellbreakers though!


Rex appeared behind Spike, causing the pocket titan to yelp! “HI THERE!”


“AHH!” Spike shouted, trying to turn it into a more masculine cough. “Hey, buster, I’m tryin’ to blend in!”


Around them, the crowd loved it, laughing and hollering at the improvised exchange. Backstage, however, Robbie peeked through the curtain and grit his teeth.


“That’s MY twunk,” Robbie growled, slamming his fist into his palms repeatedly, warming up to the idea of smashing Rex’s face in. “Nobody touches my pup-bro!”


Rex was all smooth. He got off on his boy-next-door simplicity, from his chestnut colored hair, boyish looks, and the perfectly positioned dang necklace swinging between his pecs.


He placed his massive forearms behind his head, trying to come off to Spike as cool and reposed. “Haha, I couldn’t help it, Pinup Prince! That heartbreaking smile of yours stands out like a 100 watt bulb! Plus, you’re a hero too! Big fan.”


Spike’s eyes fell on Rex’s clean-shaven pits. Damn it, this cute fucker knows what he’s doing awright… “Oh, wow. You’re way nicer than I thought. Almost gonna be a shame when Icewolf takes you to the cleaners.”


Rex took in stride. “Sailor stud…after I neuter this wolf pup, maybe you can come out with me. I promise to treat you nice!”


Resist temptation, sailor. Bros before ‘mos.  Spike crossed his arm and tried to do his best to look uninterested. “You’re cute, Holt, but Robbie is gonna kick your butt! Then again, guess it’s a win-win for me…”


“Heh, we’ll see about that cutie.” Rex poked him on the nose, playfully. “Like you, I’m a master of submission holds! Get cocky with me and you’ll be tapping out in no time. Keep that in mind, Sailor!”


“Oh, I will,” Spike said, both horny and ready to fight. “I’ll introduce you to the Sailor’s Knot next time, and then we’ll hear you scream.” He blew a kiss at Rex. “Scream, one way or another, that is.”


“Ooooh, I like you, Spikey,” Rex said, blinking out of sight again. The next time he appeared in the ring, on the top ropes, striking another heroic pose for his fans.


Spike giggled to himself. “He’s kinda sweet after all…”

The announcer called out Icewolf’s stats. The so-called Ice Cold Killa’ from the Great North usually liked to preen and pose himself, but this fight, he was all business. He skated out from behind the curtain on a sheet of ice, zooming down the aisle at blinding speed. At the end of the lane, he did a triple axel, stopping himself with a mighty wolf howl.


“AWRRRRO! Wolf pups, let me hear you howl!!!!!”


Spike cupped his hands to his mouth. “AWRRRROOO!!! Come on, 69!”


Robbie heard his new friend’s encouragement, and tapped the ‘69’ labeled on his arm guard to make the point. “Not just my team number, but my favorite position too!” He flashed his eyes at the ring, towards a smug-looking Rex. “Bet you wanna taste, eh?”


From the ring, Rex sneered. “Not a bad looking opponent at all.”


“Same at ya!” Robbie snapped back. “Want an Icy ‘Snow Cone’?” To that effect, Robbie grabbed at his (rather sizable) with his wolf logo across.


Rex laughed. He stuck out his tongue. “Sounds like way too many calories, sexy. Now, are you gonna stand outside that ring and bark like a yappy puppy, or are you gonna fight me like a real man?”


Icwolf bore his fangs. “You want the alpha? Get ready for the fangs, bro!” Robbie jumped into the ring, intimidating Rex with a thrust forward. 


Rex blinked out of instinct and teleported several feet back. “Ha! Not so fast, bud!”

Full of arrogance and testosterone, Robbie pointed a finger at him. “That’s what I THOUGHT! That’s what I fucking thought! RAAARGH!” Robbie pulled off his gear, showing off his giant, oiled pecs and arms. His tone shifted from aggressive to seductive. “Like what you see, pup?”


Rex smiled. “Not bad. What about this?” He flexed for his opponent, then gave him a little pec bounce too.


Spike could practically see Robbie’s eyes jumped out of their sockets, cartoon-style. “AWRRROOO! Oh wowzers, now I GOTTA sink my teeth into ya.” Robbie skated to the corner and handed his chest plate and auxiliary gear off to an attendant. “Don’t be afraid to give it a good whiff, ya perv! I’ll charge you for it later.”


Rex made a fist, irritated by Robbie's poor sportsmanship, but otherwise willing to give his opponent the benefit of the doubt. “You’re definitely a cool customer, Icy. But it’s time for me to put this bad doggie to sleep.”


ME?” Robbie laughed, letting the ref pat him down. He made a kiss face in his direction as the ref blushed and went over to Rex. “ME, get knocked out by YOU? You do know what my finisher is, right?” He pointed at Rex and then folded his hands under his head, pantomime sleeping, before opening his eyes and making a slit motion across his throat.


Rex felt his cock twitch, right as the unwitting ref patted him down. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. Let’s do this thing.”


“GAME ON!” Robbie snarled, charging forward. 


The bell rang.


The two studs locked up, like two wild, male deer interlocking horns. It was an aggressive display of strength, with a push and pull on either fighter. Biceps and triceps swollen, the two fighters glared directly into each other’s eyes. Robbie growled. Rex gave him the same, babyface smirk as before. 


“I’m too cool for you, eh?” Robbie said, activating his magick. He made his skin icy cold, too painful for Rex to hold on to.


“Yow!” Rex said, pulling away. 


Robbie seized the moment and went for a takedown. He planned to go full brutal on this dork and beat the shit out of him. No flashy moves, just punishment. There was just something about smug Rex that made Icy want to bully him bad. Then, he’d make the prettyboy geek beg to get put out. Icewolf was already getting hard at the thought of how it would all go down.


“YOINK!”


Instead, Robbie found himself trying to take down the air! The buff pipsqueek had ‘blinked’ back into the ropes, using the moment to dive bomb Robbie down to the mat. Robbie went on the back foot to try and catch him, and he did almost succeed in grabbing Rex and holding him put. He figured he’d go into lift and try and get him on his back, then.


But Rex was one slippery customer! Once again, he outwitted the jock stud from the North, blinking away.


“GRRR!” Robbie spit onto the ring. “GETTING REAL SICK OF THIS!”


The ref glared at him. “Hey, no spitting on the mat.”


Robbie’s Canadian sensibilities took hold. “Oh! Soowrrrrry–”


But he barely managed to get the word out before he felt two strong hands locked beneath his arm pits and behind his neck, creating a manacle.


Rex buried his face in the crook of Robbie’s neck as he clamped down on a powerful full nelson. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry, for what I’m about to do to YOU.”


Robbie grit his teeth, bracing against the pain. The kid was powerful. “Shit…SHIT!” 


Rex drove forward, his hold unrelenting. He really was an adept submission wrestler. “Down boy,” he said, teasingly, as if Robbie was a disobedient doggy. “Go down, boy. Goooood boy. Hahahaha!”


It was no use. Robbie had been focused on brute forcing this match, but that was clearly not the way to go now. Instead, he allowed his body to drop to the canvas. He wasn’t going to submit any time soon, but he was not at all in an advantageous position, especially with Rex clamping down on his neck and shoulder blades. All the dork needed to do now was quickly turn the move into a choke, and he would be out unless he whipped out his magick again (and waste his energy).


With a fair bit of high school wrestling under his belt (though obviously not his favorite sport) Robbie pushed down on the mat with his knee, one in front of the other, and rolled forward, bringing Rex with him in the moment of the roll.


The positions reversed, and Robbie really irritated now, he decided to humiliate Rex and use one of his moves against him. “You want some high school bully action, eh? How about this, bitch!”


With Rex splayed forward, Robbie dragged his forearm across his face, painfully compressing Rex’s nose and mouth, and reaching for his other arm. 


Mmmfmfff!”


“Mine,” Robbie said, reaching under and yanking Rex’s other arm back into a painful chicken wing, straining his joints.


“GAHHH!” Rex moaned, his face contorted with pain.


To add insult to injury (and…well…more injury) Robbie leaned in and sunk his teeth into Rex’s muscular back. “Mmm! Tastes like chicken.”


“Fuck you!” Rex cried out. “You damn bully!”


“Damn right, I’m a bully! Now, ask him ref!”


The ref leaned in. “What do you say, Rex?”


“No fucking way,” he spat. “Think this is enough, Wolfie? Think again!”


The ref forced Robbie to break the hold, much to his anger. “GRAAH!”


Rex took the opportunity to blink away before Robbie could bury his claws into him again. “Ugh!” Robbie was just about at the end of his wits. “This again? Fine, you asked for it, LOSER.”


While Rex dashed to the ropes, Robbie decided to shift sports, from Olympic freestyle wrestling to his pride and joy: hockey. Icewolf extended his hand and channeled his energy. All at once, the temperature in the drink dropped, and quickly at that. A cool mist appeared in the air, glittering in the lights. The ref shivered. Solid pieces of ice materialized from the aether, weaving their crystalline threads into the approximate shape and size of a hockey stick. Robbie grabbed onto his weapon and took aim. 


“Come on, punk! Time to score!”


“Oh yeah!” Rex said, mid- jump. “FOR ME!”


Only at the last second did Robbie realize he’d been duped again! Rex ‘blinked’, throwing off Robbie’s aim. When he appeared again, it was to tuck Robbie’s head under his elbow and bring him down into the mat for a quick, effective, and brutal DDT.


SMASH! 


As Robbie’s head collided with the mat, his ice-formed hockey stick shattered into a million pieces. In the audience, Spike winced.


Tongue hanging stupidly out of his mouth, Robbie saw stars and multiple lights in the rig overhead. “Unnnghhh…” It wasn’t his first blow to the head, but they never got better.


Rex went for the roll-up in. “One! Two…”


At the last second, Icy kicked out, leaving Rex looking stupid and concerned.


“When I said I wanted head…” Icewolf sputtered, dizzy and delirious, “I should have specified, eh?”


Kneeling, chest heaving, and beads of sweat running down his abs, the prettyboy glared. “You poutine-eating, maple syrup guzzling, BIG JERK! You ASKED FOR IT!


While Robbie;s world tilted and spun, Rex took advantage of him and locked his meaty legs together under Robbie’s boots. Robbie grunted, telling Rex he’d already dug in deep. Rex bridged elegantly, with precision, so much so that the crowd audibly reacted to the arching of his muscular back. Rex wrapped his hands beneath Robbie’s chin, and pulled.


“Now you’re DONE!” Rex said, cockily. He tugged hard on Robbie’s head. “That’s it…come closer, now, DOGGY.”


Shhhhyeeahahh,” Robbie grimaced. This was bad. Every cell in his body told him to tap. 


Rex pulled his head back as he yanked Robbie’s face towards his. “This is the best part. Sweet, sweet submission,” he said. “Oh you are so cute. I just gotta…”


SMOOCH.


In addition to locking Robbie’s legs and chin, Rex locked his lips on him as well, kissing Robbie harder, giving him some sweetness on top of the pain. Rex’s goal wasn’t just dominance, but sensory overload. He invaded Robbie’s mouth with his tongue, making sure he knew who the real alpha wolf was now.


But Rex had failed to account for one thing: that Robbie Whitewolf was a huge slut. Instead of the kiss draining the fight out of him, it made the pain that much bearable. Robbie felt back, with his lips, sucking on Rex’s tongue, hard. 


Too hard.


“MMMFFFF!!!” 


In the crowd, Spike–on the verge of a heart attack from the intense fight–leaned forward. “That’s…THAT’S MY TONGUE LOCK TECHNIQUE!” Instead of being insulted that Robbie had ganked his move, the Sailorboy was overjoyed. “Nice one, Robster!”


Rex couldn’t take having his tongue ripped out, and thus he lost his hold on the move. Robbie immediately wriggled his way out, tossing Rex off his back with ease.


“Great kisser,” Robbie said, wiping his face. “This is why I always eat a mint before a match!”


Rex held his sore mouth. His tongue was swollen. “Huh dahur youh, bashturd.”


Robbie jumped forward to tackle him, but Rex blinked again. A moment too late. This time, Robbie caught his waist, inadvertently bringing him out of his invisibility state. 


Rex looked down at him. “Oh…oh crap!”


The audience gasped.


Robbie promptly turned his dive into a double leg takedown, bringing Rex on to the mat. “YOU FUCKING CHEAT!” he roared. “Space glyph my sweet, hot,  ass! This isn’t teleportation. This is LIGHT MAGICK!”


In the audience, Spike slapped his own head. “Icewolf, I LITERALLY TOLD YOU THAT.”


Embarrassed and beet-faced, Robbie growled. ”Oh, I’m SO gonna hurt you now, kid!”


“Hehehe,” Rex said, from his position on his back. “Can’t..blame a guy for trying?” Even so, Rex knew he was in for a world of hurt. Welp, soma, don’t fail me now…


WHAM!


Robbie’s fist, thankfully shielded by his cut-off hockey glove, SLAMMED into Rex’s jaw.


Spike, and the audience, winced in unison. “Oooh, that’s gotta hoit.”


“I think I’ll knock your teeth out of your skull so you can give me head a lot better later, eh!”


SLAM!


WHAM!


Another punch, and another, Rex’s head going side to side with each blow. Robbie counted the hits, as did the audience.


“FOUR….FIVE…SIX…SEVEN….EIGHT…NINE…AND TEN!”


Rex had entered the ring a prettyboy, but Robbie had turned him into an old circus sideshow with his iron-clad fists. Swollen, purpled, bruised eyes, and bleeding nose and lips. Puffy and bruised, the freshly disfigured Rex groaned… “Pu….put me…out.”


Robbie, full of sadistic wickedness, wiped his face, giving the concerned ref a ‘stand by’ glance. “Huh, pup? What was that? Ohhh, are you hurt?”


“That…all you got…” Rex said. He tried to move his jaw, but Robbie heard the crack.


“Damn dude, I could put you out?”


“An Icewolf punishment, huh…” Rex said. Unfortunately, the idea was very appealing. “Damn it. Put me out.”


Icewolf blinked. “I mean, it would be a pretty badass way for you to go out, eh? But why don’t you say…’‘put me out, sir’.”


Rex gritted his teeth, struggling against the pain. No use. He wanted the escape. “Please put me out, sir.”


“Ask and you shall receive! Hahaha.”


Of course, the soma the fighters both ingested would ensure Rex’s face would likely be back to magazine model form within a half hour or more, but for now, his world was pain. A world about to be ended, as Robbie tucked his neck under his arms, forcing the broken fighter to inhale a mix of cheap, jock deodorant and natural body odor. As if the temporary disfigurement wasn’t enough!


Rex’s legs twitched and his world slowly began to darken. Robbie, grinning innocently, reached down and grabbed his opponent’s bulge, giving a generous tug and twist. “Sworrrryy, pup, but you broke the rules. You know what that means. Penalty Box for you!”


Icewolf’s humiliating finisher was basically a dragon sleeper, but always with a cruel twist of Robbie’s choice. Rex’s instincts, despite his wish for the release of pain, kicked in, forcing him to twitch and struggle against his depleting blood flow and oxygen to his brain. He tasted blood and the scent of Robbie’s pits. It wasn’t just humiliating but brutal too. Robbie the Icewolf was indeed a hometown hero and a natural born bully.


There was also one additional recurring element to Robbie’s finisher, one that he cherished to watch. As the ref tested Rex’s consciousness by lifting up his hand and letting it drop–once, twice, three-times, Robbie trained his eyes on Rex’s bulging crotch. You see, Robbie was such a muscular stud, and his body odor/deodorant combo so perfectly coordinated, that his raw sexuality coupled with his foe’s loss of consciousness usually had an unintended effect.


“Right on cue,” Robbie sneered, as the bell rang. A dark, wet spot appeared on Rex’s trunks. He’s quite literally squeezed the precum out of him.


The announcer called it. “The winner, Robbie The Icewolf!”


“Hahaha!” Robbie stuck out his tongue, and clamped down harder. He shook Rex, still tightly locked under his arm. “You hear that, buddy? Come on, don’t you want to cheer for your hero. What’s that?” 


He dropped limp and bleeding Rex to the mat. Already, the soma had managed to resculpt his face back into a somewhat normal state, though his head had turned a sickly shade of purple due to the oxygen deprivation.


“Come onnnn, buddy,” Robbie said, pulling Rex up and into his arms. “Don’t you want to cheer?” He locked eyes with the disapproving ref and flipped him off. He was much more interested in his prey. Robbie stuck his fingers into Rex’s blood-scabbed mouth, turning him into his own little ventriloquist dummy.


“There we go, champ!” Robbie smirked. He moved Rex’s mouth. “Icewolf! Icewolf! See, I just wanted you to say my name….LOSER.” He pried Rex’s mouth open and hocked a huge wad of spit into his mouth, before forcing his jaw shut and SLAMMING his head down into the mat.


That was enough to pull Rex from the void. “AAAAGGGGhhhh,” he moaned, his eyes spinning wildly. “Wh…what’s that smell? Ughhh.”


Robbie towered above him, like a vengeful winter god. “You complaining about my sexy, natural scent, eh?” He nudged him in the ribs with his boot.


It was then that reality hit Rex in the face, just as hard as Robbie’s fisticufss. “No…NO. I LOST?”


“Hahaha!” Robbie flexed for the audience, giving them an added pec jiggle as a bonus. “What a loser.”


“Ugh,” Rex spat, disgusted. “I lost and you PUT YOUR PIT IN MY FACE?”


Robbie shrugged. “Bro, you asked for it.” He caught Spike’s eyes, in the audience, and gave him a little wave.


Do the thing! Spike mouthed. Do the thing I taught ya!


A mischievous glint appeared in Robbie’s eye. “Oh yeahhh, that’s right. You don’t like humiliation, do ya kid? Well, here, what do you think of my jockstrap?”


Robbie turned around and slowly, somewhat comically, made a dance of pulling down his signature briefs (marked with a 69 on the back). His hockey-toned muscle butt burst out from his trunks, hanging over the edge, with his jock strap bands hanging on for dear life.


Blinking and wincing from the pain and the knockout, Rex looked up. “Uh, very tasteful mint color? WAIT, WAIT, N-N-NO..DON’T DO THAT!”


“The sweet scent of defeat,” Robbie said as he lowered his sweaty ass onto Rex’s face, wiggling and rubbing it into his opponent. “Kiss it, Rex! Come on, kiss your sports hero’s big butt!” He kept on there for a few seconds as Rex struggled and sputtered to get out from beneath it. Only after the ref turned away from shame did Robbie relent.


Somewhere in the audience, a man muttered, “Damn, I think I’m gay now.”


“Ugh,” Rex sputtered, trying to pull himself away. He dragged his hands across his face, spitting onto the mat. He had turned a bright shade of red. “N-no…” he said, breaking out into tears. He was beyond embarrassed. 


Smiling like an idiot, Robbie hitched up his trunks again, earning him a disappointed “Awwww…” from the audience. “Hey, you got more than you paid for tonight, folks!”


Triumphant, Iceowolf strutted his way towards the ropes. Just as he was about to duck beneath them, though, he turned around and looked over at Rex, kneeling on the ground, embarrassed, humiliated, and flat out disappointed.  


He pouted. He growled. He rolled his eyes.


“Ugh, why do I gotta be such a softie.” He crossed his arms and looked over at his defeated foe. “I like making boys cry, but even this is too much. Hey, Rex! Icewolf wants to make it up to you.”


Sniffing, the beautiful Rexford Holt, looked up. “I don’t trust you!”


Robbie shrugged. “Suit yourself, bud. But…” He turned, hoisting one leg over the rope, and looking over his shoulder cheekily. “The wolf daddy always gives his pups good after care. If you know what I mean.


Rex stared dumbly at Robbie, then down at his (still erect) bulge, then at Robbie again.


Suddenly, losing didn’t seem so bad. “Oh…yeah? What did you have in mind…daddy?



“This is what you wanted all along, hun, Rex?”


“You got my number, stud,” Rex said, passionately kissing Robbie on the mouth.


Both of them naked, Icewolf and Rex fell onto the mattress in a flurry of kisses and clawing. After worshiping each other’s bodies, and licking each other’s muscles, the wolf went in for the kill.


“Come on, pup, you know you loved my muscle butt in your face,” he said, as he mounted his opponent.


Robbie’s cock was thick and erect and already dripping precum as Rex hungrily took it inside his mouth. He couldn’t verbally answer, but he hummed and moaned instead as the wolf tested the limits of Rex’s throat, thrusting deeper and deeper.


Icewolf was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of him. True to his words, he did treat his pups right. “My favorite position,” the buff stud said as he looked lovingly upon Rex’s (rather sizable cock). “Oh fuck, I gotta…” He wasn’t shy about taking the whole thing in and down his throat.


Rex, mouth full of Robbie, moaned with a new pleasure as he felt himself get eaten alive by the wolf. He could only moan and squeal and try not to choke. Thankfully, the endorphins surging through his brain overrode his gag reflex as he joined Robbie in the mutual thrusting and sucking. It was raw, obscene, and dirty…just how Rex liked it.


Eventually, Robbie freed Rex’s manhood from his special “mouth hold”. “My ass ain’t done with you yet, Yankee stud. You had a whiff before, now have a taste. Eat it.”


This time, Rex was happy to oblige. As much as Robbie had humiliated him utterly, a deeper, more primitive part of him couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed being engulfed by the wolf’s delicious posterior.


“Yes, sir,” he said, repositioning himself and bringing his nose and tongue into Robbie’s hole. Salty sweet, with the remnants of a post workout shower. Rex licked.


“This is how all good pups say ‘hello’,” Robbie said, eyes closed as he drifted off into pure bliss. “This is how all bad wolfies do it. Fffffuckk, kid, you know how to please your wolf daddy.” To show he wasn’t just talking smack, Robbie’s cock let free a long, sticky trail of spunk onto Rex’s chest.


Rex took advantage of the moment and opened his mouth, tasting his new kind. “Damn Robbie, you are a tasty treat. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”


Robbie turned around and pulled Rex forcefully closer to him. He wasted no time mounting him with his sweaty, thick body. But Robbie was different in the bedroom than in the ring. He was still aggressive, yes, but there was something softer about his eyes. He was emotional, tender, with a face suggested a drug-like euphoria as he engaged in intimacy.


“Come on bro,” Robbie said, as he began to grind rhythmically against Rex. “Let’s frot. It feels so good.”


Rex didn’t know what the stud meant at first, til he looked down and saw Robbies thick, wet, leaking cock pushing its head forcefully against Rex’s own.


“OH FUCK,” Rex said, embarrassingly loud.


Robbie just looked down and smiled, punctuating his grin with a kiss. Then another one. Robbie kept his mouth on Rex as he grinded his body against his, faster and faster.


“My pup,” Robbie moaned softly, kissing Rex’s neck. “My pup stud. You’re so fucking hot. I’m so glad your face looks good again.”


Rex scowled in the momentary lapse between thrusts. “You jerk.”


“Heh.” Robbie said, pulling up and turning Rex over. “I’ll make you cum hard for that. Let’s do the same from the back, but wolfie style. This is totally my sex finisher. Well…one of them.”


Rex realized that Robbie was mostly a goof by now. A sexy, sweet, dumbass. But just as he went to make a snide comment, he felt Robbie’s muscular body press against his, almost pushing him back into the bed. Then, he found Robbie’s arms around his waist, pulling him closer as he positioned his…


“OH, SHIT.”



Robbie’s cock rubbed against Rex’s from underneath as Icewolf humped him without mercy, driving his shaft and head against Rex’s. Rex hadn’t felt anything like it before. Every nerve in his cock was active.


“Come on pup,” Robbie growled soft. “Be my pup. Shoot with me. Shoot with me, pup.”


“OH, FUCK I’M GONNA–”


“Me too, pup. Go hard. Cum hard. Score for me now.”



Rex was embarrassed all over again, but this time by the stream of white, sticky cum he squirted all over Robbie’s bedsheets, and the primitive, guttural grunts he made. He looked down as he heard Robbie let out a huge moan, and saw him adding to the stream, like a fucking rain shower. The bedsheets were absolutely ruined.



Tired and spent, Robbie at least had the smarts to pull Rex with him to the side, sparing him from falling into the pool of cum. “Ffffuck,” Robbie moaned, stretching, and wrapping his arms around Rex. He pulled him into his chest and snuggled him. “Now comes the best part. Wolfie cuddles.”

Rex sighed, curled up and impossibly content against this stud. He kissed Robbie again, and it wouldn’t be the last time that night either. “Remind me to lose to my opponents more often,” Rex said.


Robbie smiled and gave him another kiss. “You’re the best loser there ever was. Only…just one problem.”


“What’s that, sexy?”


Robbie sighed, looking over at the mess on the sheet. He scratched his head. “How the hell are we gonna clean all that up now, eh?”


The End.


Artwork by @ibarakidoujin