Brazilian Beatdown! Jace vs Iggy and Apollo Champion

 Jace adjusted their sunglasses and took a long, hard sip from their capahirna. “Ah, life is good, Igs.”

“Do not call me ‘Igs’”.” Next to them, lounging in a pink caftan and a neon green thong, Iggy Astro stretched their long, muscular arms towards the bright, Rio sky. “But you got that right, puto.” Still, too much relaxation tended to dull the mind…and the senses. 

And today, Iggy was in the mood for mischief.

They had invited Jace on their ‘bad boys weekend’ retreat in Brazil. El Amante, Iggy’s lover, was currently indisposed in Mexico City, doing various local shows (Iggy had slyly suggested it to keep the lovable luchador away from the world championships, which had grown considerably dangerous as of late). As Iggy was no longer fighting full time, they had decided to escape down to familiar pastures. But of course, they needed a chew toy to bring along.

And Jace was as chewy a toy as they came. Kindred spirits in a way, Jace was a similar themed cosmic heel with a mean streak. But where as Iggy was a sadist to the core, Jace (who did get off to other people’s pain as well) was a secret masochist. And a piggy one at that. Iggy had been waiting for the right time to spring their trap on him.

Today was as good as any.

Jace looked over and took in the site of Iggy extra large bulge. Looked like they were smuggling a banana in their banana hammock. 

Without removing their sunglasses, or looking over, Iggy sniffed, “Can I help you?”

“Need me to oil you up?” Jace had already applied a generous sheen to their buff, alabaster body.

Iggy rolled their eyes. “Someone is horny.” But, perhaps it was time for indulgence. A little afternoon snack. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Nope!”

“Heh. Good.” Iggy reached over to their companion and occasional sparring body and slid their hand down their trunks. “Feels like you’ve been bad. Hard already? Show some restraint.”

Jace let out a soft moan. “Please, like you aren’t?”

“Oh, I’m just thick where it counts.” Iggy tugged the hem of their thong down, giving a sneak peek of their base. The skimpy bit of fabric could barely hold it back. “Trust me, when I get hard, this thing basically snaps off. I’d say it’s embarrassing but…” They removed their sunglasses and flashed Jace their cunning eyes and devious smile, “When I whip it out, someone’s getting punished. Or pleasured. Or both.”

Jace snickered as he got up. “Both. I like both.”

Iggy motioned for Jace to come forward. Iggy took his prize, and pulled in Jace for a passionate kiss.

“Fuck,” Jace moaned. “How are you so hot?”

“Mmm. A good diet,” Iggy answered, before tonguing Jace’s mouth. 

Jace straddled him, rocking back and forth. “Should we do this now?”

Iggy thought about it, then shoved Jace off. “Nah. I got my friend coming over later.”

“Oooh! Tell me more about this friend,” Jace said, tugging themselves. 

“Oh, you’ll love him. His big, muscular, and has a huge cock. Even bigger than mine, if you can believe it.” Iggy leaned forward. “And he likes bad boys.”

“I’m bad boys!” Jace said, drooling. But his desires turned to simpler cravings. He scratched his abs, lazily, looking around the balcony. “ Hey Iggy, where are your cigs?”

Iggy groaned, and not in the sexy way. “Viki and I made a New Years resolution to quit. I realized getting lung cancer would be a terribly boring way to die. A little green mistress now and then is fine though.”

Jace bit his lips. “Oooh, a little toke and fuck. Sounds hot.”

“Oh you. My grinder is somewhere on the counter. If you find it it’s yours.” 

“Thanks.”

“And don’t tell me I don’t do you any favors, basic boy.” Iggy stood up and stretched. “Iggy Astro is a heel, but a generous one.”

“Yeah…yeah…” Feeling cheeky, Jacey slid down the back of his moon print speedo and showed Iggy his own full moon. “I got your payment right here.”

Igyg smirked. “Be very careful what you wish for.”

As Jace went indoors to smoke Iggy’s weed, the buff, pink haired stud heard the sound of a car door shutting. Smiling wickedly, they leaned over the balcony and looked down at the giant, beautiful, bodybuilder stepping out from the taxi (and leaving a generous tip). He looked like a Romance novel cover came to life…and proceeded to go on a serious juicing cycle. He was also dressed to the nines, and beautiful.

“Olá,” the deep-voiced spellbreaker said. “How’s my penthouse treating you? You have spilled anything on my upholstered couch…or my bodybuilding trophies…have you?”

“No, but there’s a few things I’d like to spill once you get up here, Apollo Champion. “Iggy blew him a kiss–a quite literal construct of light–that floated down and landed on the buff man’s cheek. “Thanks for lending us the place for the weekend. Now, strip off your clothes and join us in the hot tub will you?”

The pretty man scratched his pretty hair. “Uh…us? You brought a friend? Well, I guess I said you could bring a plus one, didn’t I…”

“A little treat for us,” Iggy said. They could feel the devil horns starting to form. “He’s young, dumb, and about to be full of our cum.”

“My favorite! I’m coming right up.”

“Heheh. Perfect…”

Inside what Jace had already referred to as Iggy’s ‘porn star penthouse’, the punkish spellbreaker snooped around the kitchen. Whoever owned the place, they had good taste. They also had a glass case full of shiny trophies. Bodybuilding, wrestling, and spellbreaking, it looked like. They also had a plethora of black and white portraits on the wall–artistic close ups of quite possibly the biggest, bulgiest muscles Jace had ever seen.

“Shit, I’d like to see the model.” Jace’s cocked twitched at the prospect. Then, their eyes landed on the coffee table. Next to some male model mags was a shiny, attractive, golden thong.

Jace’s eyes lit up. “Oooh what have we here?” Jace’s eyes went between the thong and the grand, standing mirror positioned in the corner (whoever owned this place must have thought highly of themself, Jace thought). He looked around, corner to corner, for signs anybody might be watching. Fortunately, Iggy was too much of a hedonist to move when the sun was positioned just well enough to give them a golden tan, so Jace knew he could seize the moment.

Snickering like a naughty school boy, Jace stripped down his black speedo, getting a good look at this plump ass in the mirror. “Leg day been treating this badboy good,” he said, giving himself a tender smack. For good measure, he gave his long cock a few good strokes. “Man, everybody wants to get fucked by Moonshot Jace. A god like me deserves something nice, skimpy, and golden like this number here.”

Carefully, Jace slipped on the thong. It was…a bit roomy in the pouch. He growled. We can’t all be horses, I guess. But the skimpy number looked good on him. His ass ate up the strap. 

“Golden boy central,” Jace said, striking a few bodybuilder poses for the mirror, pumping out his pecs and flaring his lats. “Fuck yeah! Look at that stud. I’m turning myself on!”

Then, a deep voice. “Hey..is that mine?”

Flinching, Jace looked up into the reflection, at the massive, unreal beast that had just appeared in the entrance doorway. He hadn’t even heard the dude come in! Jace was startled, not only by the hunk’s appearance, but also his size…and girth! He was a bodybuilder, that much was for sure. He was almost a mutant. His long, blonde hair dangled down his pectoral, which were so full and big that his luscious locks actually hung off the edges of his round chest like they were shelves. Abs sculpted. Legs the size of actual trees. And then, lower.

“Holy….FUCK.”

Now Jace realized who the thong currently wrapped around his junk belonged to. Horse? More like an elephant. The giant man wasn’t packing heat, he was carrying a whole battalion. Not even erect, his penis was an almost obscene–priapal mass at least a foot long and several centimeters of girth across. Thank goodness he was so big, Jace thought, or else the man might topple over with that anchor.

Confused, the giant bodybuilder–nothing to say of his model-like looks–stared dumbly at Jace, scratching his head. “Hey waitaminute…that IS my thong!”  

Squinting, Jace bit his lip. “Oh shit.”

The giant man growled softly, giving Jace a dark sneer. He walked over, his arms spread out like he was carrying two boulders tucked beneath his pits. Jace could almost feel the floor move with each of his footfalls. “And you’re posing in front of MY mirror too?” The man said, moving abruptly to the left and crossing his arms over his massive chest. As he moved, his cock slammed into Jace’s pouch–indirectly illustrating the size difference between them.

Pretending to walk in on a scene that they hadn’t planned, Iggy sauntered gingerly through the balcony doorway, butt ass naked (and their own impressive member swaying pendulously beneath their knees). “Oh, Jacey, what a naughty, naughty house guest.”

Jace, the color draining from his already pale, swimmer’s build, looked to his so-called friend, and glared. “Did you plan this?

“Why, whatever would you mean?” Iggy said, playing dumb. “Not my fault you’re into putting on other people’s property. Property I just happened to know you couldn’t resist, naughty kitten.”

Smiling, Apollo cracked his knuckles. “I was gonna call you out for being a rude, puny kid. But you might have just made my afternoon a whole lot more interesting.”

Iggy gave trembling Jace a Cheshire cat grin.  “Jace, this is my friend…Apollo Champion. He’s a solid gold heavy weight in the spellbreaking league. A professional bodybuilder. And sometimes pornstar. I think he won…what was the category…’hole wrecker of the year’? And it looks like you’re wearing his favorite posing thong in front of his precious mirror.”

Jace bent backwards, putting his hands up in defense. “Er…I can explain, Mr. Apollo, sir.”

“Blasphemer,” Apollo roared. And it was then Jace matched hisbuild to all the studly portraits on the wall. “How dare you flex your puny muscles in front of my mirror.” He stepped forward, pressing his massive cock against Jace’s torso. Jace felt it suddenly get harder, no doubt with Apollo picturing the punishment he was about to give him. To add insult, the giant beast of a man leaked a fresh stream of sticky fluid down his abs, already marking the punk for a beatdown.

 “I’m gonna have to crush you now, kid.”

“Wh…wait! I think there’s a misunderstanding.”

The giant man wrapped his giant hand around Jace’s neck and promptly shoved his forearm under his chin, the other around his neck, putting him into a smothering, oily guillotine. The pressure was instantaneous. Jace squeaked, and then went limp in the giant’s arms in seconds.

“Damn, Apollo.” Iggy whistled. “He already passed out.”

Apollo laughed to himself, bouncing his giant pecs in the mirror, watching the oil splash off them and onto Jace’s trembling, already unconscious body. “That’s right! No fight. Instant KO. Apollo Champion style!” Apollo planted his barefoot on Jace’s back, and began to go through a series of poses, in the mirror, his chest like two oiled up boulders, and his biceps glistening with his bodybuilder oil. “Fuck yeah,” he said, watching himself get harder. Again, his massive member dripped precum onto Jace’s back in a humiliating fashion, showcasing this massive, roided god’s virility.

And as if to bring the statement home…

Apollo rolled the drooling Jace over with his foot. “Cocky boy,” he laughed, bending over and scooping Jace up over his shoulder like as a sack of flour. He slapped his ass, leaving a big red print.

“Agh!” Jace’s eyes snapped open. “H…hey! Let me down!”

“Oh, I’ll let you down,” the giant man, once again slapping Jace’s posterior (for posterity). “Come with me, boy. Your transgression deserves a bigger punishment. Taking you to my fun room.”

“Nooo! I don’t want to see the fun room!”

Iggy gladly opened the door at the end of the hallway, indulging in the sight of Jace kicking his muscular legs in the air helplessly. “This is where the fun happens,” Iggy winked. “Apollo’s private mat room.”

Blue mats in a room decorated with marble walls, lined with gold trim. The arena of a god.

“This’ll wake ya up!” Apollo said, bringing Jace’s back down across his knee. 

“GAH!” Jace cried out, rolling off. “My back!”

“Hahahaha!” Apollo laughed, with Iggy’s arm around their neck. “Now, let’s do some more wrestling. What do you say we oil him up with our special concoction?”

Iggy held Jace’s arms down while Apollo squirted a pleasantly scented fluid into his hands and began rubbing Jace’s lithe torso, top to bottom. Whatever the fluid, it felt warm, and filled Jace with a tranquil sense of arousal. “Ohhhh fuck,” he said, his skin tingling. Despite himself, his erection returned in full force.

“Can’t wrestle without some good ol’ Eros Juice,” Apollo laughed. “This oil is an af…afrr…”

“Aphrodisiac,” Iggy said, letting his captive go, and generously applying some of the oil on himself. “I bathe in the stuff. That’s why I’m always horny.”

Jace had enough of this. He slipped out of Apollo’s grasp. “You want to play, big boys?” He said, grinning. He stroked himself off in front of Apollo, who seemed generally impressed at the kid’s stamina. “I like it rough, but I dish it back even rougher.”

“Fuck yeah!” Apollo said, bouncing his pecs, and flexing. “That’s what I like to hear, boy!”

Suddenly, Jace began to glow. “The sun ain’t no substitute for the moon, but all that tanning did me some wonders.” He charged forward. 

Apollo was ready. He grabbed Jace around the waist, but the young spellbreaker was faster–and slippery–sliding out of the golden god’s grasp. He jumped up and delivered a spinning roundhouse kick to his face, sending Apollo back into Iggy.

“Agh!” the pink-haired rockstar cried out, as 300+ pounds of prized meat fell on top of him. Thankfully, the lubricant made the giant slide right off him, otherwise Iggy would have been trapped under his bulk.

“That’s fuckin’ right!” Jace side, throwing Apollo Champion a mockery of his own pose. “How do you like Moonshot now? I think once I KO you losers, I’ll take your prized thong collection for myself!” He turned around and showed off his bare ass, flexing it. “Kiss. THIS.”

“Grrr!” Apollo jumped up, on the offensive, and tried to get a hold of Jace again. “I’m gonna pound your pretty face in!”

“Only thing that’s gonna be pounded is that big, muscle butt of yours,” Jace said, sliding gracefully between Apollo’s legs (and not getting caught between them). He pivoted around on his heels and jumped onto the big man’s broad back, clamping his arms around his beefy throat.

“You brat!” Apollo growled, trying to get Jace off of him. “Ugh, you’re clingy.”

“I tell him that all the time,” Iggy said out of the corner of his mouth. This match is getting interesting!

Jace flexed his biceps, putting Apollo in a rear-naked (literally) choke, clamping down down on his carrited artery. “Don’t care how big you are,” he sniffed. “You’re going down, muscle man.”

Apollo shook his back, but Jace held on to the colossus for dear life. “Get…off me!” he wheezed, face reddening. Jace’s tight grip took hold, blocking blood-flow to Apollo’s brain.

“Shhh,” Jace said, kissing Apollo’s meaty neck, and humping his back, spreading precum across his oiled delts. “Go to sleep, stud. Go down. Good boy. Good muscle pig.”

“Garr…” Like a tree falling in slow motion, Apollo fell to his knees on the slick mat, sliding forward and intentionally giving Jace a tighter grip. He struggled with all his might to throw him off, but the guy wouldn’t budge.

“Oh nice,” Jace said, repositioning himself, and sprawling. He thrust his cock between Apollo’s giant, hard cheeks. “My cock is right by your ass, Champ. Bet you like it there?” He humped him, getting harder. “Oh fuck, wouldn’t it be hot if I blew my load all over your crack while I got the KO? Big muscle stud like you falling to me. I think that’s what the crowd wants.”

Iggy admittedly didn’t hate this reversal, watching it with a smile on his lips and their hand on their girth, stroking. “Fuck, I knew that booking this trip was a great idea.”

“Nnnggg…” Apollo’s eyes rolled back into their head. 

“That’s right. Snooze-land, big boy,” Jacae said, kissing Apollo’s cheek.

Suddenly, he found himself ripped off the beefy bodybuilder–and before he could react, Jace found a knee in his gut. 

“GAH!”

Wind knocked out of him, the pretty punk doubled over in pain. As he clutched his sore stomach, he looked up into the eyes of his beautiful betrayer–Iggy Astro.

“Whoops,” Iggy said, plucking Jace up by the hair. “How did that happen?”

“B-basatrd,” Jace wheezed. He head butted Iggy in the chest, knocking him back onto the mat. He lunged forward then, jumping on top of the well-oiled heel–while Apollo slowly came alive next to him.

“Little bitch!” Iggy roared, Jace already on top of him. “Oh, you want to roll around, bad boy?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jace said, interlocking his limbs with iggy, bodies grinding against each other ad muscular appendages inetrlocking. “Let’s get wrenched up.”

Quickly, Jace and Iggy became living, breathing art, intertwined bodies in the grip of lust and violence, struggling for dominance, either fighter trying to tie the other up in themselves. Jace grabbed Iggy by the neck, yanking them backwards to face them. Iggy reacted by locking their lips–Jace, by grabbing them by the waist and rutting them through their giant thighs with their cock, pushing his shaft against Iggy’s.

“Are we fighting or fucking,” Iggy said with a glare.

“Both.”

They returned to madly tounging each other. Iggy threw their ass back, going harder, bringing Jace to the brink. “Fuck, Iggy.”

“I do this to Viki all the time,” Iggy said, cocky. “Not even he can resist this.”

But while Jace was distracted by Iggy’s movements, the devious badboy reached behind Jace’s neck and grabbed down hard–and before Jace could fight back, Iggy completed the loop.

“Sitting snapmare,” Iggy called out. “A new one.”

“GURK!” Jace struggled. “You don’t have the leverage. You aren’t that strong.”

Iggy immediately grabbed down tighter. “Am I? You silly little boy.”

WHAM!

True to their word, Iggy mustered the strength to throw Jace clear across the mats. He landed painfully on his head, seeing stars.

Behind Iggy, Apollo sat up, collecting his senses. “Ugh…that little bitch.”

“I’m dealing with it,” Iggy spat. “Forgot he absorbs light and converts to strength. Like a more annoying Sailorboy…if that were possible.” Iggy didn’t waste this moment. Like a lion with a beautiful mane stalking its prey, Iggy crawled forward, on all fours, their wet hair clinging to their oiled body. “On my turf, we play by MY rules. And I’m the barbarian babe in this jungle, bicha.”

Jace groaned, gripping their neck and head. Who knew vacation could be this exhausting…and painful. “Dirty trick. Should have thought about it myself.”

“But you didn’t,” Iggy said, jumping on top of their prey and pinning them down. “Let’s take care of that cheap power of yours, basic boytoy. You forget who the Ruler of the Cosmos is here. Time to remind you.”

Iggy’s eyes flashed sparkling, neon, pink–stars quite literally in their eyes. They leaned forward and locked their lips around Jace’s mouth. The boy struggled as Iggy probed their throat with his tongue, and used his magick to quite literally suck the light out of him. Jace immediately felt weak, head spinning, and muscles growing weaker. 

To make matters even more embarrassing, their erect and throbbing dick promptly went limp. Iggy had truly rendered them powerless.

With a rush, Iggy tossed back their pink mane, stardust glitter falling from their buoyant locks. “Fuck yeah!” they said, muscles pumped larger. A spray of precum shot out of their massive cock and hit Jace right in the face–an extra insult! “Thanks for that energy boost, bitch. Now, time for you to face the music!”

Iggy grabbed Jace by the legs and swung them around. The prettyboy punk went sailing, right into Apollo’s massive chest. The blow nearly knocked him out.

“Time for payback!” Apollo growled. “Come here you!”

“Aw crap!” A dazed Jace squeaked, finding his head thrust into Apollo’s meaty, gargantuan thighs, all throbbing veins and knotted muscles. 

“Hehehe. Feels good with your puny body between my giant legs like that,” Apollo said, squeezing his quads down on his prey. He began to gyrate and thrust, like an oversized stripper, posing with his arms behind his head and his little buddy at the mercy of his legs. Then, Apollo reached down and pulled Jace up onto his shoulders.

“How’s the air up there, little buddy?” Apollo laughed. “Time for a powerbomb!”

“N--n-no, wait!”

Apollo brought Jace down onto the mat with all his might. The room shook. So did the inside of Jqace’s poor skull!

“Eeeeesh.” Iggy cringed. “Don’t…actually kill him. I know some lawyers, but they aren’t that good.”

“Aw, come on, Astro, he can take it!” Apollo looked down at the twitching mess laying at his feet. “Right, little bro?”

“Ghhhhh.” was Jace’s reply, as his body spasmed uncontrollably.

Iggy saw the opportunity for pain and took it. He jumped up into the air and delivered a smashing elbow drop, right across Jace’s prone chest.

“OOF!”

Iggy threw back his hair. “I love the classics! What else,” he said. “Eye rakes?”

He reached over and clawed his nails across Jace’s eyes. “FUCK!” the boy shouted. “Aw, fuck, Iggy!”

“Oh, sorry! Here, show me. Let Iggy take a look.” As Iggy cooed sweetly, he manifested stardust light particles into his palms.

Timidly, Jace let Iggy take a look at his sore, red eyes.

“Thanks!” Iggy said, just as he blew blinding light dust into his opponent’s eyeballs.

“AAAAAGH!” Jace screamed, clutching his eyes and falling back. “I’m…I’m fucking blind! I can’t see!”

“Stop whining–it’s temporary,” Iggy said, eye rolling and staring down at his fingernails, wondering if it was about time for a manicure. “You think I, your best friend in the whole world, would cause you permanent damage?” He then wrapped his legs around Jace’s arm and pulled back, shoving his feet into his ribs.

“GAAAAH! IGGY!”

“That’s my name!” Iggy said, tugging on Jace’s arms and pushing with his feet. “You give?”

“Gah, yes, I give!”

“I’ll let you go if you say who has the better body!” He looked over at Apollo and blew him a kiss.

Apollo glared back.

“Uh! UH!” Jace knew this was another one of Iggy’s tricks, but he had no way to thwart it, and he was in deep pain. “Y…you! You, Iggy! Now, please let me go!”

Iggy did as told. “Of course! What do you think, Apollo? He said that I had the better body.” Iggy flexed their biceps.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Apollo said, grabbing Jace up and putting him a torture rack. He stretched him out.

“FUCK!” Jace crieed out. “My spine! Okay, OKAY! I was just kidding! You have the better body, Apollo, sir!”

“Better!” Apollo huffed, letting Jace’s busted body fall back to the mat.

Jace landed on his back. His spine seared. “Ugghhhh…”

“Liar!” Iggy said, smiling maliciously. “You’ll pay for that.” Iggy grabbed Jace by the arms and pulled back, planting his knee in the crook of his back, stretching him out.

“Gaaaah!!!!!” Jace screamed. “Iggy, you fuck!”

“That’s no way to address one of the two gods kicking your ass,” Iggy said, sweetly. “How does it feel? Does it hurt, little jobber!”

“I’m not your fucking jobber!” Jace spat back. But even he didn’t believe it. This was brutal!

“Yes, you are!” Iggy said. “And that’s gonna be your name by the time this match is through.”

Iggy swung his legs over Jace’s neck and pulled in tightly–the fly catching the spider in its web. Iggy’s quads grabbed Jace’s neck, clamping down and cutting off oxygen and blood. But that wasn’t all Iggy had in store for him either. With the lubrication from the oil, Iggy managed to turn Jace over, burying his face in his balls and cock–humiliation on top of punishment!

“How does it feel?” Iggy asked, watching Jace squirm as his legs crushed his neck and his cock smothered his face. “And how does it smell? Hahaha!”

“HHHhhnnn,” was all Jace could get out. He couldn’t go out like this, could he? Face-deep in Iggy’s nuts and cock. They were so big that they were actually suffocating his mouth and nose. 

“Aw yeah keep squirming like that,” Iggy said, smiling with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah, that feels good. Here, have a little token of my appreciation.”

Jace tried to move his neck and give him some leverage, but it only managed to free a stream of precum from Iggy’s engorged cock. Waterboarded by precum! This was a new low for Jace!

“Hahah! Look at that,” Apollo said, flexing for Iggy. “Here, have some more inspiration, Iggy.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Iggy said. “Drowning by my own juices. What a way for a pathetic jobber to go out.”

Apollo reached over and slapped Jace in the ass again. “Ain’t that the truth! Nighty, night, boytoy.”

Thank goodness, Jace’s conscious mind could be spared this utter and complete humiliation. He passed out, drooling, as Iggy’s genitals covered his face like a pillow.

“Do the thing!” Iggy asked Apollo.

Obligingly, the giant bodybuilder got down and grabbed Jace’s limp hand. “One,” he said, letting it drop. “Two! And…WHOOPS!”

Cruel dick that he was, Apollo held his hand in the air. “Look at that! Kid’s still awake!”

“Silly me!” Iggy said, facetisiouly. He shifted positions and slapped Jace’s face with his wet meat. “Wakey wakey, Jacey-Jace! Looks like you have more in you then I thought!”

“Nngggg…” Blue in the face, and covered in Iggy’s juices, Jace’s eyes rolled in his head as he tried to make sense of this fresh world of pain. “Worst nightmare ever.”

“A waking nightmare!” Iggy said, pulling Jace by the hair. “Here. You were forced to worship my cock. Why not worship his?”

Iggy thrust Jace’s head right into Apollo’s sweaty, oil covered, elephant cock. “Bet he could beat you to KO with it!” Iggy said.

Apollo laughed, slapping Jace in the face, side-to-side, with his giant member. “Nah, I got something better in store for you!”

“Nooo. No more!”

Once again, Jace found himself tucked in tightly between Apollo’s meaty quads. He struggled, but barely, the fight completely drained out of him. 

Apollo reached over and spanked Jace’s red, raw ass a few times. Iggy joined in. “We were just getting started,” he laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll put you to bed again. I think I saw Colt the Bolt do this to ya!”

With that, Apollo inverted Jace into the air, forcing his face back into his nuts.

“How them taste?” Apollo laughed.

“Mmmmfff!”

“Get ready for dreamland, boy!” Apollo said. He jumped in the air.

Jace braced himself for concussion. Nothing happened.

“Ha! False alarm!” Apollo said. Then, he jumped up, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling, and drove Jace’s cranium into the mats.

BOOM!

Jace’s body sprung up, involuntarily, before falling limp to the mat, twitching. “Gaahhhhh…” he said, in his forced slumber, foaming at the mouth.

“I think we broke him!” Iggy laughed, planting his nuts on his face. He made a slit motion across his neck. “That jobber is done. But…you should have the honors, Apollo. I’ll count out!”

Apollo flexed, doing a most muscular pose that caused all of the oil to spray off his body like a fountain–a fantastic spectacle of muscle and might. He made a thumbs down in front of Jace’s twitching body. “Your face will make a throne for a god.”

Iggy watched in arousal as his massive friend planted his giant, thick muscle butt on top of Jace’s poor, pretty face, burying his head inside the valley of his massive cheeks. Apollo scooted back and forth, adjusting himself, and flexing his biceps in the mirror. He watched, dumb and gleeful, as his giant member swelled to even larger proportions. Iggy couldn’t imagine a more humiliating setup for the arrogant spellbreaker!

Spike would be envious, Iggy thought. He counted out. “One! Two! Three! Hey, don’t suffocate him, Champ!”

“Hehehe. I think he likes it.” Apollo stuck out his tongue and winked at his reflection in the mirror. “I know I do. Comfy seat. Hehehe. Now, give me back my thong.” Apollo stripped off his property easily, revealing Jace’s flaccid, limp dick. The big man played with it like a little toy. “Hehe. It’s so puny compared to mine.” 

Suddenly, Jace came to, in Apollo’s ass. He struggled, groaning and kicking his feet and arms. “MmmmmMMMMMMMM!!!”

“Oops,” Apollo said, sitting up.

Jace gasped for breath, coming to. “Ughhhh….”

Apollo turend around and straddled Jace, crushing his chest. “Hey kid. Get a look at this and worship it!”

“Ugh….what. Oh wow. Muscles.”

Jace’s cock sprung to life, going hard the moment Jace touched his palms on Apollo’s sweaty, shining chest. He played with his hair and massaged his big nips, turning the giant man on harder.

“You like this?” Apollo said, getting up. He reached down and scooped Jace’s ankle dragging him across the oile-soaked mat by his back. “Get up! Let’s see what fight you got!”

Growing, Jace tgo to his feet and started to kick and punch Apollo, uselessly. The big man laughed at each blow, bouncing his pecs to prove a point. “That's all you got, kid? Here. Have my signature. The Golden Squeeze!” 

“Noo-NOO!!!”

The giant man roared, picking up Jace in a tight, oily embrace, crushing his spine and ribs. Jace squealed and kicked, weakly trying to pull himself away. To make matters worse, Apollo activated his powers, transforming his body into solid gold, basically trapping and crushing Jace with the power of a metal-wrought statue.

Jace’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Okay…I…give.”

Apollo reverted back to normal. “You’re going out again, little one.” But Jace coudln’t even hear him. He’s slipped back into unconsciousness, drooling on himself.

“Unnng…”

Apollo draped him down gently across the floor, and turned to Iggy.

“Iggy. Let’s wake him up in a fun way.”

“Oh I thought you’d never ask.” Iggy rubbed his palms together, and straightened out his pulsating hard-on. “Mouth, or ass? It’s your house, after all.”

“But you’re my guest!”

“I’m packing too, but….”  Iggy knelt in front of Jace’s pretty face and pried his lips open. “I want to make him gag. It’ll muffle his screams once you get inside him.” Iggy did just that.

Jace’s eyes snapped wide awake. “Mmmm!!!” But his shock turned into pleasure, and made tame, he immediately went to servicing his muscular friend. “Mmmm. Mmmm…”

“That’s a good jobber,” Iggy said, smiling, head tilted back in ecstasy. “Damn, I knew I brought you along for a reason. Heard you like taking huge cocks too. Well, we got a challenge for ya.”

Jace’s eyes went ride with frightened realization…before they narrowed into mischievous determination.

“Let’s dig in!” Apollo said, grabbing a sizable toy from the shelf and lubing it up. “Here, little buddy. You’ll need to open up a little. Wow, you took that like a champ!”

Iggy continued to facefuck Jace, while Apollo thrusted his twelve-inch, ribbed toy into Jace’s hole, sliding it back and forth. “Oh, Jace has a hungry hole,” Apollo laughed, taking the toy out and admiring his work.

“Ung. Ung!” Jace grunted, eyes in the back of his head, as Apollo expanded his insides. “Fuck. Oh fuck.”

Apollo smiled, satisfied at his work. He withdrew the lube covered toy and looked down at Jace’s widened hole, thumbing the ring.  “Well, let’s see if you can take the champ.”

Suddenly, it hit Jace. There was no WAY all of that could fit inside him. He suddenly worried for his health!

Somehow, Apollo made it work. He put his giant round head against Jace’s hole, and then nature and physics did the rest. Jace’s ass struggled at first, to grip all of it, but Apollo managed to shove his giant mass of meat into poor Jace’s backside.

Jace’s immediate reaction was softened by Iggy gagging his mouth. “Mmmm….MMMFFFFMMF!!! MMMMMFFFF!!!!”

“You can tap out whenever you want.” Apollo said, going into bull mode and rutting Jace raw and deep. “I promise.”

Something inside Jace’s brain snapped, and his eyes rolled back with a release of pain and pleasure. It was like a drug. He let go and let Apollo expand his insides. First hole. Second.

“Nah,” Iggy said, already close. “Look at those eyes rolling back. I might make him walk funny for weeks, but right now it’s pure bliss.”

“Welcome to Brazil, Jacey.” Apollo said. He smiled. “He’s so tight. Well, won’t be after this. Maybe not ever again. But…ohhhh fuck.”

Jace may have gone to Rio, but right now he was on another planet, letting two of the biggest studs in spellbreaking use him like a toy.

Iggy groaned. “Let’s fill him up!” He said. “FUCK!” 

A trickle of cum slid outside Jace’s mouth as Iggy unloaded. But that was nothing compared to Apollo, who roared out like a lion in heat. He unplugged himself from Jace with a wet sucking noise, and a river of white fluid followed. Apollo had turned Jace’s raw, red hole into a faucet tap.

“Didn’t need my weed to get stoned, huh?” Iggy said, leaning back and appraising his work. He played with the tranced-out Jace’s long hair.  “Look at that. Muscle drunk and cum drunk.”

“He’s on a whole other planet now.” Sweating, heaving, bulging Apollo said, hoisting the limp twunk up. He grabbed him by the waist and went to pumping, using his still erect, giant cock as extra sensation on Jace’s own stiff erection.

It didn’t take much. Pounded to perfection, Jace’s beaten and expanded prostate contracted and forced out a torrent of cum from Apollo’s milking. “NNNNGGGGG!”

After releasing himself all over the floor, Jace’s mind couldn’t take any more sensation, and slipped back into blissful sleep. Unconscious, a mischievous smile formed on Jace’s mouth. He would remember this for a while! (His hole certainly would for the next week or so).

“Err…sorry about your mats,” Iggy said, standing up and scratching his head.

“That’s okay.” Apollo took it in stride, and hoisted Jace over his shoulder like he was nothing. “Let’s take him to bed.” He slapped the poor twink’s raw ass. “The night ain’t over yet!”

The End

Colt vs Jace: Well-Bred on the Ranch

“Who’s the messy twunk with the emo cut?” Buck said, wriggling his nose. “I didn’t know they made bad boy versions of you, Spike.”

Tonight was a lowkey event at the GSA ranch. So far, everything had gone by without a hitch. Buck’s first mixer with the local feds was proving to be a relaxing evening of drinks, chatter, and live music. Muscular men and women mingled beneath string lights, on the barn’s open floor. Cocktail glasses clinked together. Buck, dressed in a forest green suit, tried his best not to catch his father’s protective eye. They had made an agreement: don’t get into each other’s business til the end of the night. So far, both of the Tamberly men had remained true to their word.

Ever outgoing, sunny Spike had forced taciturn Buck to let Victor take the reins of the party so he could enjoy himself. Taken aback by Buck’s remark concerning the handsome, dark haired spellbreaker brazenly hitting on Cian, Spike forced a glass of sangria into Buck’s hands.

“Whaddy’a mean, Bucky? I am the bad boy version of me!” Spike giggled. He’d been making starry eyes at Buck all night long. 

Buck had noticed. Emboldened by liquor, he ruffled Spike’s hair, more brotherly than flirtatiously. “Nah! You’re a good boy. Now, Dad told me I need to learn how to talent scout–which is really just a fancy word for poachin’ fighters from other feds. You know a lot of spellbreakers, don’t ya?”

Spike took a drink. “Biblically or…”

“I can’t tell when you’re being funny or just dumb.”

“Well that makes two of us. And ugh, yes I’ve blown that guy–I mean know that guy. That’s Moonshot Jace. Goes by The Punk King I think?”

Buck snorted into his Old Fashioned.  “The Punk King? What a lame stage name.”

As if summoned by dark forces, Jace–wearing skinny jeans and an indigo, button-up (mostly unbuttoned) sidled over to the table where Spike and his boss were exchanging gossip. Jace, who was much bigger and muscular standing up close, narrowed his eyes, full of moonlight and mischief. His green was positively wolfish.

“Did I hear my name, tasty boys?” Jace said, plucking a cheery out of Spike’s drink and popping it into his mouth. His lips twitched. Then, he pulled out the stem, tied. “Oops. Guess I’m just good with-”

“Your tongue?” Spike finished for him, crossing his meaty arms. “Jace, I taught you how to do that back at Pieces in the Village.”

Jace flicked the knotted stem into his old frenemie’s pretty face. “And the boys tell me I do it better.” There was a slight effeminance in his voice, in contrast to his intimidating, punk-boy aesthetic. “Samuel Waterford. Long time no see, slut. Last we ran into each other, you were getting eaten out in a dark room by some rough trade.”

“Language!” Buck said, nearly spitting into his drink (and a bit envious of whoever got a chance to get up and close and personal with Spike like that). “If my dad hears us talking like this…”

Spike’s hand crushed his glass into a fine powder. Jace didn’t blink. “And you had your ass in a sling, getting filled up like Boston was running outta’ cream!” Spike cursed, full sailor-mouth.

“Spike!” Buck bit his lip. He looked over and met his dad’s disapproving stare. Even from across the room, Buck felt the electricity in the air crackle. He brushed his hair in front of his eyes, a defensive mechanism he used for either hiding or intimidation (and that Spike, somehow, found sexy to no end).

Jace capitalized on handsome Buck’s discomfort, pushing Spike out of the way and sliding in closer. “Mmm. That Stetson you’re wearing, cowboy? And the scent of gym beneath it. I bet your pits smell great.”

“They do,” Spike mumbled, “But that don’t give you the right to say it!”

“Oh wow,” Buck said, taking a step forward. “I don’t care if you think you’re talking to the president of the fed–of which I am, by the by–or a beggar, you do NOT talk to guys like that, you punk!”  

“That’s my name, babe, don’t wear it out. What’s wrong, big, sexy Buck? Uncomfortable?. You really are your daddy’s boy. Wonder how far the apple falls from the tree with you Tamberlys.”

And then, Jace reached down and cupped the front of Buck’s pants. “Oh, I see it doesn’t fall far.”

Shocked glances in their direction, Spike’s was the harshest of all. “JACE.”

Seconds away from decking Jace in the lower jaw, Buck’s wrath was stilled by godly intervention–said god being his own father. Colt got in between his son and his assailant. A firm but gentle hand on Buck’s shoulder, and a kind look, was enough to keep him from lashing out. An old story.

“Hold up, hoss,” Colt said, assuringly. “Bucky boy, I know darn well you’re capable of kicking this punk’s butt, but this is your party and the host doesn’t throw his guests into the tables–no matter how rude they get. Leave it with me, son.”

Cold eyed, Buck looked between his father and Jace’s smug expression. Buck knew that smirk would be wiped off in due time. 

Annoyed yet again that his father was fighting a battle for him, a tired Buck cut his losses sand decided to focus on closing the night out well. “Fine,” he said. “Thanks, dad.”

“You’re a good boy, son.”

Again, Spike mumbled to himself. “Mmm…wish he would call me that.” And before he could put his foot in his mouth any further, Buck grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off to safer corners.

“Come on, Spike. You’re my date now.”

Jace sighed and shrugged. Colt was more interested than offended now. Did this preening, muscle punk know who he was? 

He was about to find out.

Colt didn’t need to put on a scary face or a loud voice to be imposing. He gave everyone a chance. That was the cowboy way. But he also didn’t turn a blind eye to sexual harassment. Certainly not towards his own kin. He stared daggers down at black haired Jace.

“Jace, was it? I expect a fair bit of decorum at these shindigs, no matter how rowdy they get. What you boys do when you walk out those doors ain’t my business, but inside is another story.” You groped my boy. I don’t like that. Only king here–besides me, that is–is consent.”

Which was all very correct and heroic of Colt to say, but Jace was no hero. He loved being trouble. And this big, hunky, handsome cowboy? That was some fine trouble right there.

Jace looked Colt up and down. “What? Jealous?”

Colt cocked his head to the side, narrowed his eyes, and smiled. Somewhere off in the distance, thunder rolled across the city. “Hmm. You seem like the type who knows I’d break every part of your spine individually for a snipe like that, so I’m gonna reckon you got a thing for being a brat, huh?”

Jace licked his lips. Now, we’re talkin’. “Especially for daddy’s.” He practically purred the word. “Haven’t had a taste of you in the ring, big Colt. Colt, like a horse?”

“More horse than you think.” He laughed. Maybe this would be fun? Colt had been too focused on the world tour and making sure Buck didn’t blow up the place or turn it into either a museum or bordello (could go either way with him). Now that he had some free time, his primal masculine instincts had returned to him.

And he hadn’t had ‘bratty boy’ in quite some time….

Colt touched Jace’s shoulder, and squeezed tightly. Tight enough to make him wince. He didn’t let go. “You want to be put in your place. I get it.”

Jace didn’t realize Colt had pinned him to one of the barn’s wooden columns. And by his pelvis now less. Colt shoved it in deep, crushing him with his waist. His cologne filled Jace’s nose, and the thought that he’d bit off more than he could chew briefly crossed his mind, til his base instincts override the need to survive. 

Colt’s voice was icy quiet, and his bourbon-tinged breath warm and wet on Jace’s face. “Well, I’m a generous man, boy. Seems to me, you ain’t been brought up right. Well, that’s just fine. I’m very good at breeding some sense into troublesome sorts like yourself.”

The muscle-bound, cowboy king pointed to the window, specifically at a building a few yards away.  “Tomorrow. That barn. Me, you, and a few of my buddies. I’ll show you what we Tamberly men do to punks like you.”

Jace smirked. “Looking forward to seeing how much of a colt you are. What kind of match?”

Colt smiled, and his his flashed with mischief and lust. He leaned in quietly. “You ever done a breeding match, boy? Yeah, it’s exactly what it sounds. You see, I’m a gentleman, so I don’t like to talk dirty in front of good company, but since you’ve got such a foul mouth, I’ll let you in on a secret, boy. Right now, my balls are fuller than an unmilked cow’S teats, and my cock is hard and ready like a bull in mating season. Loser doesn’t justg et fucked, their ass gets flooded with seed. They get claimed, do you understand, boy. I’m Colt. And your name ain’t gonna be Jace, any more, it’s gonna be mare.” 

He brushed his stubble against Jace’s neck. “Can’t get a cis man pregnant, but hell, you’re gonna find out I am gonna try on you til you don’t even know where you are.”

Jace bit his lip. “You’re on, cowboy.”

—

Jace had been in weirder arenas, but this one was pretty unique. The barn was an open roof joint, more like a glorified corral with four walls. Bleachers on either side, fenced in. Could have been a rodeo ring, for all Jace knew. And all Jace knew is that he was ready to ride and break a very big pony.

As Jace entered through the gate (where the bucking bulls would have normally come charging through; adding a bit of symbolic eroticism to the whole thing) he sneered at Colt’s audience of choice: mostly ranch hands and working guys from the local community. A mix of backgrounds, but one thing in common–they were all buff, broad, big, bulky, and handsome. Beer bottles clinked together amid loud laughter.

Jace felt like a specimen, a wild cat in a zoo, being spectated. Good. It made him horny, having so much masculine attention. He walked by the handsome gang of rancheros he could find.

“Evening, papicitos. You all ready to have a good time?”

“Oh hell yeah,” they said, looking him up and down. He let them touch his chest. He gladly touched back. “You ready to get double stuffed and filled up by Colt?”

“Ha! That daddy is about to be made a boy.” Jace flexed his pecs, then plucked a beer bottle out of his admirers hands. He stuck out hi long tongue, prodding the neck, deep. “I’ll eat him out first, like this. Then I’m gonna plunge in deep.” 

The handsome men snickered to each other. “Okay, kid. Well, we admire your confidence.”

“I admire my confidence too.” Jace chugged half the beer and then tipped the rest into the audience member’s mouth. “Now, suck this down.” His man’s reaction was cut short, however, by a loud pop from the other side of the arena.

Colt the Bolt entered with just his cowboy chaps and a very skimpy, very bulging cowprint number, clinging to life on his muscular body. Jace’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Oh, daddy.”

The other men in the room wolf whistled and hooped. Even though he looked like a Norse god had come down to work on a farm, Colt was still a bit bashful. “Aw, shucks boys. You best behave now.” He tipped his white cowboy hat to them, and then tossed it to moon-eyed admirers to his left. “I better get that back, you hear?”

Jace had no intention of behaving. He grinned like a devil about to dig into a fresh kill, and met Colt in the center of the ring.

The cowboy smirked at him. “Hmph. You actually showed up. Cute little undies you got there. Guess you didn’t come to fight like a real man.”

With that, Colt turned around, giving Jace a good look at what was behind his chaps. Colt’s muscle butt, on display. Turns out his gear was actually a cowpring thong. Jace nearly blew a load right there.

Colt bent forward and ripped his chaps off, standing up and giving Jace a good look at his rippling back and delts, which he flexed. “Gotta know your audience. What do you think, little boy? This is what a real man looks like.”

I’ll say that, Jace said, swallowing. He couldn’t tell if he was more intimidated or turned on. Maybe both.

Colt slapped his own cheeks. Sounded like hitting concrete. “Get a good look, son, cuz unless this is planted on your face for the pin, this is all you’re gonna get of my backside.”

“Hmph. Putting on a show for these horny cowboys?”

“Yup! Gay and Bi Ranch Hands. It’s a group that Buck has me donate some money too. Toughest men you’ll ever meet, and they can mix a stiff martini to boot!.” Colt winked and flexed his giant biceps for his opponent. “Course, that’s not the only thing that’s gonna be stiff here tonight.”

“Har har. I thought you liked women.”

“I love women. Treat them like goddesses. I also like pretty men. I treat them like goddesses too…except for the bad and disobedient ones.” The kind veneer broke, replaced with a dominant scowl. “Those? Like you? I treat like my fleshlight that Buck don’t know about it. I told you, you won’t have a name by the time I get through with you. Fitting punishment for someone who messes with my boy.”

“Whatever, old man. So, this is more like a streetfight then?”

“Anything goes in here, boy.” Colt nodded to a contraption in the center of the open, dirt arena, a sort of pen with a cushioned vice mechanic. “And you’re going into that, when I’m done with you.”

“And…what the hell is that?”

“It’s what we use to hold cows or horses while we get a stud to breed them. Only, you’re the filly and I’m the stud.” 

“Heh. We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll pay one of these redneck losers to snap a pic of me when I’m inside you so I can send it to your boy.”

Even Colt had to admit, Jace was a stunner. With neck length, jet black hair, covering one eye, his muscles radiated underneath the moonlight. In fact, it was almost as if the light from the open roof was drawn towards him, making him glow. The black crescent moon tattoo on his pectoral stretched and contracted with his breathing. He gave Colt look both boyishly innocent and predatory, making Colt’s knuckles clench and his cock twitch.  

“Does the cowboy king like what he says?” Jace said, stretching his arms out, and flexing. He turned around and bent forward, giving Colt a good look at his bubble butt, barely constrained by his blue and black trunks.

“Don’t think it’s smart for a mare to present itself to a stallion,” Colt sniffed, confidently. Behind him, some of the boys laughed and clanked beer cans together. 

“Think one horse can do me in, old man? Then you obviously don’t know Jace. They don’t call me the Lunartic for nothing!”

“Do they call you that?”

The pretty punk grit his teeth and growled. “It’s catching on!” He hopped up and down, pecs bouncing in the moonlight. “Alright. Time to make you more cow than boy.”

The bell rang and the two sex gods locked horns. Jace didn’t bother with the back and forth. He went right for the kiss, sticking his tongue directly into Colt’s mouth. The crowd reacted likewise. “OOOOH”

Colt wasn’t so easily distracted however. “You need a mint, son. You kiss like a boy, not a real man.”

Colt grabbed Jace and pulled him in for a bear hug, immediately grinding his giant, cowprint bulge against the shocked hunk. Colt smothered his mouth with his own. Bearded and bristly, his kiss was intense and violating, his tongue exploring Jace’s mouth.

“Mmmm! MMMFFF!”

Colt let stunned Jace go. “You like that, boy? Well, maybe you’ll like this!”

BOOM!

A big cowboy boot collided with Jace’s face, knocking him flat into the dirt. 

“Hell yeah!” Colt said, riling up the crowd and striking a few bodybuilder poses. “Don’t need no bullets for these guns, boys,” he said, flexing his giant biceps. He grabbed his junk. “You see this? I’m all horned up and muscled up.” He bounced up and down, his pecs and bulge bouncing with him. “We like beef here in Texas, don’t we?”

The audience was losing their minds (and their loads). Colt even thought he saw some of the spectators reach down inside their jeans and start to stroke themselves. This was an aggressive, erotically charged atmosphere.

What Colt didn’t see, however, was Jace’s tattoo start to glow with silvery moonlight, matching his eyes. The hit, which would have concussed most spellbreakers, barely scuffed him, as his glyph absorbed moonlight and converted it into cellular regeneration. Jace wasn’t just renewed; he was hyped up.

And speaking of full moons: that big, cowboy butt was like a perfect target…especially what was dangling below it.

Jace sprung up behind Colt, just as a few spectators saw what was happening and tried to warn him. “Look out, C–”

WHAM!

“GAH!”

Right in the balls. Jace uppercut Colt’s jewels hard, sending him kneeling into the dirt and clutching himself like a hurt schoolboy.

“BOOO!!!” The audience jeered, chucking their beer bottles at the pretty punk. “Fuck you, kid!”

“Right at ya!” Jaced laughed, flipping the whole ring with a double-bird. “Lick my pasty ass, you fuckers,” he said, bending over and full mooning the crowd. He tugged his trunks up. They didn’t deserve to soak in the glory.

Jace didn’t stop there. He dashed over to the wounded colt and wrapped his bicep around his neck, bringing him in closer. Jace licked his neck, and nibbled on his ear. “I’ll massage them for ya, big daddy,” Jace said, cupping Colt’s tender, sore nuts. “Wow, they ARE big. Is that because they’re swollen? What a big, handsome stallion. I bet you’re gonna shoot like a firehose when my cock nails your prostate.” 

Jace squeezed down harder. “Your mistake was fighting me at night. My glyph absorbs moonlight. Gives me my power. I think I’ll choke you out, nice and slow, and then–while you’re out–I’m gonna slip it in. You’re gonna wake up to me raw-dogging you.”

Red faced, and hair dangling in front of his brow, Colt grit his teeth. He’d been in sleepers before. His neck was thick as hell and could take it. Thing is, this kid was still wet behind the ears. He’d even given away his secret. What an amateur.

Absorb this, brat, Colt thought to himself. His eyes flashed golden yellow, and he channeled his electricity, turning him into a human live wire.

“Yoowww!” Jace yelped–like a dog, falling backwards with the shock. Numbed and near paralyzed, he curled up on the dirt, unable to get to his feet.

The crowd jumped up in excitement. Colt joined them. He wiped his mouth. Then, he looked down at his prey and spat right on him. “Little bitch,” he said. “I’m gonna ware your hole out DEEP for that, boy.”

BAM!

A cowboy kick to the ribs knocked the air out Jaace. Spittle flew from his mouth. Colt thought he even heard a crack. “Serves you right, boy! Now…”

Colt yanked the boy up by his hair, making him wince. “Your hair is real pretty, son.” He picked up him by the arms like he was a rag doll, and housed him above his knee. “Now, fair is fair…”

“No…NO!!”

“Let’s see how you like being neutered!”

CRACK!

An atomic drop! Jace’s legs parted, Colt’s unpadded knee went right between his legs.

“Call that one a meat hook!” Colt laughed, dropping screaming and squealing Jace on the ground. “Aww, you look like a worm down there, wriggling around. If I weren’t no baby face, I’d boot ya again for good measure.”

“Ffffuuuuck,” Jace squeaked, eyes watering, clutching his sore junk. “You bastard.”

“Did the world a favor,” Colt said, reaching down to enact more punishment. “You didn’t need to bring any spawn into this world.”

Thankfully for Jace, the pain didn’t last long. His tattoo shined with a new, luminous ferocity, converting pain into power. Jace stood, tongue hanging from his mouth like a hungry, rabid dog, and eyes pure white. Even Colt flinched at the spectacle. 

“Time for a new moonphase.” Jace glowed silvery white, moving faster than Colt could tabulate. He bent forward, head outward, and speared Colt right in the abs, sending him into the audience barricade. 

“MOON SHOT!” Jace roared, triumphant and wild. “Fuck yeah! That’s the power of the night!.”

Colt was winded, crumpled against the wooden partition. Around him, concerned fans shouted for him to get up.

Others leapt to his defense, throwing their beer on Jace. Splashed with liquid gold, Jace, stuck his tongue out at the offender and pulled down the front of his pants, whipping out his long, white dick. “Pour some on this, daddy!”

The angry audience member gladly obliged, bathing Jace in a steady beer flow. Jace loved it. “Hot, sticky, sweet! That’s me, boys!” He grabbed the audience member and shoved his head into his pecs. “Now, lick it off. Top to bottom. And don’t stop at my dick, either.”

“Excuse me, boy, but what did I tell you about harassment?”

Jace didn’t even have time to look around. Giant, meaty arms wrapped around his waist, crushing his pelvis and hoisting him upward. Jace saw the moonlight, distant, unable to help him as Colt injected a subtle current into his body, preventing his glyph from activating. Because Jace had assumed the cowboy was all muscle. He didn’t count on him being brawn and brains too!

Jace was only in the hair for a fraction of asecond, inverted, before his whole body was slammed back into the dirt, head and neck first. The audience winced at the sound of body colliding with Earth. Jace had been knocked out before, but never so quickly.

Colt sat up, sweat dripping down the crevass of his pecs, then spreading across his abs. He breathed, wiped the dirt from his face, and basked quietly in the crowd’s adoration, chest heaving. He was in a dangerous headspace. More animal than man.

“One more time!” the crowd of cowboys shouted. “One more time.”

Sowly, Colt raised a hand into the air, forming a number one with his finger. He smiled.

“YESSS!!!”

On the dirt, drooling and cross-eyed, Jace moaned. “Did…did I win yet?”

Colt scooped him up and propped him up onto his wobbly feet. He brushed his shoulders, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then pivoted around for another brutal suplex.

“Ooooohhhh!” the blood-thirsty crowd shouted; some in horror, some in awe. “Colt broke that boy!”

Dusting off his hands, like he just took out the trash, Colt stepped away from the twitching boy and flexed his muscles for the audience. “Not yet, boys! You don’t think this kid–this varment–who DARED grope my boy, gets off that easily? Not sir. I AM the storm.” Feeling beastial, and hard as a rock, Colt reached down around his skimpy thong. “Fuck this. Time to go full horse.”

In one swift movement, Colt yanked his cowprint thong around his ankles and flung it into the audience. One lucky, muscle-bound truck driver caught it, took a deep sniff, and passed out with a smile on his face. Colt, now naked and covered in sweat–looking every bit the beast of his namesake–threw back his wet mane of hair and flexed for the crowd.

The poor cattle hand directly in front of him bit his lip and covered the front of his pants. “No…oh fuck I’m….GAHHH!”

Colt winked. “El Amante ain’t the only stud who has that effect on people. Now then. Ain’t ever given a naked piledriver before….” Colt reached down and picked the near-comatose Jace off the ground. “Wake up, boy. Come on now! Oh, you need help?”

Colt’s ‘help’ was slapping poor Jace’s pretty face with his throbbing horse cock. Jace’s eyes fluttered open just as his horse daddy’s head landed on his lips and deposited a bead of fresh, precum. Jace didn’t get to enjoy this before sweaty, muscle thighs gripped his head like a vice, squeezing down hard.

“Got ya, boy,” Colt growled. He yanked Jace’s trunks up into his asscrass–going from atomic drop to atomic wedgie. “Look at that tasty butt. I’m gonna fill it up. Maybe you’ll still be conscious enough to enjoy it.”

Colt inverted Jace, tombstone style, making sure the poor lad’s face was pressed right up against his cock, smearing more white fluid across his prey.

“Ok, son, you listen good. Get to suckin’ on that meat, and I’ll drop you in a way that you’ll walk out of this arena just fine…maybe not walk straight, but walk all the same.” Colt tossed Jace up an inch and caught him painfully, crushing his ribs. “If you’r bad though, I WILL end your spellbreaking run right here. Do you understand boy.”

“Unnnggghhh…yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Yes WHAT, boy?

Jace sniffled. “Yes, daddy.”

Colt wasted no time burying his cock in Jace’s pretty mouth, immediately forcing himself into his t throat. After gagging, Jace found his power and, even inverted, showed Colt why he was so infamous in the underground circuit.

Colt’s eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure, and now the audience couldn’t help themselves–they whipped their own pieces out and got to jerking on the action.

After a few second of bliss, the long-haired muscle man turned to his crowd. “Don’t you fire your guns yet, cowboys–I got a task for you later. But for now, this is where this punk gets planted. I AM THE STORM!”

With those final words spoken, Colt jumped into the air and smashed his victim’s head right into the dirt.

The next thing Jace knew was a deep pain in his backside. He blinked, coming to. He wasn’t able to turn his head. He moved his neck. No use. In front of him, a crowd of muscular workmen–their pants around their boots–jerked off to this struggled.

Then it dawned on him. “No…no!” He was in the breeding hold. The device gripped his head and kept him steady.

Grunting and thrusting, Colt snarled. “Look who’s awake. Just in time to get mounted like a bitch. You nay for me boy?”

Jace couldn’t form words. It felt like an actual colt was drilling into him. He could take a lot, but this was almost too much! Pain, fortunately, gave way to an indescribable pleasure. With every thrust, Colt seemed to dig deeper into him. Jace had never felt someone this relentless, this rhythmic, go that deep. Colt’s massive balls slapped the side of his ass, and Jace’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He couldn’t help but drool.

And his mouth wasn’t the only thing drooling either. Colt was testing the limits of Jace’s prostate.

“Better not come, boy,” Colt panted. “You better not. You aren’t allowed. I got something else in store for you.”

In front of Jace, a younger, blond ranchand with a swimmer’s build couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.”

Behind him, a hairy daddy (perhaps the fella’s lover) slapped his ass encouragingly. “Right onto that mare’s face.”

“Noooo,” Jace whined, on the border between embarrassment and bliss.

A sticky load covered his cheek. And it wasn’t the last one either. As Colt pounded and mounted him, a bolder cowboy shoved his mushroom head into Jace’s mouth, gagging him. Another blew his load onto Jace’s left side. 

Finally, Colt grunted. “Shit. Shiiiit, boy, this is gonna be real nasty for you. Oh FUCK. OH FUCK!”

At the verge of passing out from pleasure, Jace suddenly felt something wet and warm fill him up..and further still. It was like Colt had shoved a hose up his ass and turned it on. Jace moaned. “Yes, sir. Yes! Breed me.”

Heaving and dripping sweat onto his new breeding tool, Colt pulled out as the cowboys slapped him on the back and muscle ass in admiration. Colt looked down and surveyed his work. Streams of sticky white poured out of Jace gaping hole like a tap, onto the dirt. 

“Damn!” one of the ranchands said, impressed.

“Damn big load,” Colt said, with a smile on his face. “Been too long. Well, boy. Now it’s your turn. I do reward my boys.”

Jace, sore in places he never knew he had, and still dazed from being dropped too many times, could only moan.

“Told ya I’d turn him into a breeding beast,” Colt said, fiddling with the machine tucked under the breeding grip. “What’s your name again, kid?”

“Unnngggg…” was the catatonic Jace’s reply.

“You acted like an animal with my boy, and now I turned you into one. ‘Course, I don’t think you’re really much of a horse at all. More like a cow. And you know what we do to cows here?”

Colt reached under and attached the suction pump to Jace’s throbbing cock. He turned it on, and the pump went to work.

The pleasure and pressure worked in tandem, making Jace moan even more. He was already at the limit. “Unnnggg.g…UNNGNGGG!!!””

Colt sat back with his buddies and watched Jace squirt a fresh stream into the collection. And it didn’t stop either. His moans grew loader, the pleasure shifting back to pain.

“What do you say, boy?” Colt said, slapping a sticker onto Jace’s gaping, bubble butt. It read: “BRED”

Onlyt the white’s of Jace’s eyes showed as he reared his head back. “Mmmm…mmm…MOOOO!” He cried out, before the hardest orgasm he ever endured sent him back into blissful oblivion.

Milked and bred, Jace was scooped up but Colt and slung over his shoulder. “Clear a path,” the cowboy king said, taking his newest trophy out of the ring–streams of cum still leaking out of his well-bred butt. “If you think that’s where this ends, boy, you got another thing coming!”

The End

Chapter 7: The Heir and the Orphan

The drunken celebrants in the bar (not all of them human) raised their beer mugs to Spike in a raucous cheer.

Daemian, grinning ear to ear, handed him his own boot...filled with beer. "Alright, mate, you know what to do."

Spike's stomach turned into knots. Sadly, he did know what to do...he just didn't want to do it. "Oh, Goddesss--your boot!?" It smells so bad. I'm not into feet.

Whether he wanted to or not, the half-pint hero of the day found himself stuck between a barrel chested demon with an ox head, and a busty witch with a crow on her shoulder (who also joined in the drinking song).

The ghoulish assembly sang in unison as Spike chugged.

Here's to Spikey, he's true blue!

He's a piss-pot through and through!

He's a bastard, so they say!

He tried to go to Heaven, but he went the other way!

Spike's forced grin made Daemian's sadistic smile grow larger. Now, the dark magi mouthed: 'Drink it, now'

He went down...down...

Spike said a silent prayer to the Goddess and commenced chugging the boot-soaked beer. Thankfully, the blonde powerhouse (who had just helped save Sydney harbour from demonic destruction) had a very good gag reflex. 

He threw down the boot triumphantly on the bar, and then let out a triumphant burp.

The crowd lost their mind. "YAAAAY!" Soon, Spike was being hoisted on shoulders and paraded around the haunted pub. The four armed bartender quietly took Deadboy's boot, wiped it down, polished it, and poured the dark magi and his demon friend, Brax another drink--all at the same time.

Brax looked down at the frothy mug. He didn't drink, so instead passed the mug onto his companion. "Why...did you not summon me during the fight, my kindred? I could have helped."

Daemian was content to let Spike soak up the limelight. Honestly, he wasn't feeling much like a winner at the moment. "I didn't want to risk losing you, bud," he muttered, taking a chug.

"But...if you had died. I would have lost you."

Deadboy shrugged. "Then I would have seen you in Hell."

"Your human sarcasm-as-defense-mechanism belays the fact that you know that it does not work that way, dark one. Gehenna is not the realm of mortal punishment." The canid demon looked away. "Furthermore, why are none of these smelly mortals celebrating you as hard as Spike. It seems you have passed on all the glory to him."

Daemian shrugged, eying a mounted stag head on the wall, (which, in turn, eyed him right back, turning its nose up). "Don't wanna be a tall poppy, ya know? Besides, these folks think I'm trash anyway. All the pranks I've pulled in this town. Hell, in this own pub."

The mounted stag snorted. "You can say that again, ya c***t."

The handsome demoniac lifted up his mug to the decapitated head. "Cheers to you too, Frank." He neglected to tell Brax the time he and Frank had gotten into blows, which had ended with Daemian throwing the animated skull into the loo. And on taco Tuesday night, no less.  

After three lapse around the bar, a hefty lizard-man gently lowered Spike back onto a bar stool. The dark magi and monsters patted him on the back, but otherwise left him to his own company. 

The familiar, tattooed sailor next to Spike tipped his hat to him.

"Way to go, Spikey," Mick said.

Their reunion earlier in the night--post monster--had been one of many head-spinning moments for Spike, who hadn't seen Mick since his dishonourable discharge. What felt like a lifetime ago was, in truth, only a year.

The taste of boot and hops still intermingling inside Spike's mouth, the blonde hunk shook his head. "I'm trying not to hurl, Mick. But...good seeing you again."

Even with his gold tooth, Mick was the epitome of tasty, rough trade. "Almost like fate, right?"

Suddenly, a vision of that haggard tarot card reader under the bridge in Manhattan came rushing back to Spike. "Yeah," he mumbled. Speaking of fate. Shit, has it really been a year?

"Shore leave. Though honestly, I think I might stay in Sydney after my time is up. I miss home, you know." Mick threw down his beer. The man was in love with life. Nothing bothered him.

Which is why it was weird for Spike to see Mick expressing genuine sentiments. The handsome tattooed sailor cuffed Spike on the shoulder (hard enough that Spike felt his powers activate). "Get a bloody look at you, Waterford. Damn spellbreaking legend, you are. This is the dream you always wanted. I'm so proud."

Spike, who constantly craved validation, never quite knew what to do when getting a compliment suplex like this. He turned away, blushing. "Oh, geez. Dream? I dunno, man. Sometimes it's more like a nightmare, Mick." 

"Hmm. You miss the Navy?"

Spike nearly spat out his brew. "Nah. I miss some people. You, for one."

"Ah, big sweetie." Mick wrapped his giant arm around Spike's neck, bringing him in for a hug. It was then Spike realized two things: he was starting to get tipsy, and then Mick hadn't put on deodorant today.

Not that Spike minded much.

"Say, who's that strapping, fiery-headed bloke with the scowl?" Mick turned his head towards a neglected part of a bar, where a certain Cian O'Rourke was drinking by his lonesome and looking glamorously glum.

Spike felt bad. But he didn't know what to say. Even though Buck's kiss had a purpose behind it, it had also proven a point. "Cian," Spike muttered. "He's my coworker and..." Spike thought about what to call him. "Friend. Yeah...friend."

Then it occurred to him why Mick had asked. Spike whipped his head between the two. He's hot, muscular, red-headed and Irish. Mick is hot, muscular, tattooed, and Australian. Shit, if male-assigned-men could make babies...

Spike spoke as if he had just discovered the wheel. "You should...go and talk to him."

Mick made a face. "What? Big, handsome guy like that? And get a look at those legs! He could put one of the Sydney Convicts to shame. I dunno, Spikey. Maybe after some liquid courage."

Spike nodded and, feeling like Mick needed the space to be Mick, got up and left. However, as he looked over his shoulder, he thought he spied a miracle: Cian had come over to speak to Mick, and by that smile on his face, not merely to ask him for a cigarette either. That's my boy.

The air grew cold as Spike crept towards the staircase. Hiding in the shadows, the gloomy, ghoulishly handsome Daemian put a cigarette to his lips, his skull-shaped lighter lighting it with a creepy, green flame.

The badboy fighter barely acknowledged his comrade-at-arms. "Needed a dart." He took a long drag. "Normally, this would be the part of the night where I'd ask if you wanted to go off for a quick root, but..."

He sighed smoke. "I hate to say it, but all I can think about is...him." He winced.

Spike sensed who 'him' was. "Joseph?"

"SHHHHH NOT SO LOUD!"

Though smug, Spike was understanding. He crossed his arms and put a knee up on the bannister, throwing a side-eye at a drunk man hitting on two, unamused succubi sitting at a table in the corner. "You know, you're allowed to break kayfabe with your teammates...mate."

Daemian shrugged. "I don't like getting close to people," he said. "One side...always disappoints the other."

Spike didn't have time for Daemian's broody boy, Scorpio philosophy. "DUDE, you just frickin; saved Sydney. You're a damn hero!"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Daemian reacted, as if Spike had just yelled he used wet the bed as a kid (which, to be fair, he did) "Spikey, please! Growing up, everyone said I was the bad guy. Now it's weird thinking I did something actually good for once." He put on a sour expression. "This isn't a face-turn, got it? I'm just...er..."

Daemain stamped out the buttof his cigarette, on his tongue no less--and rather than chuck it to the ground, ate it one gulp.

"Happy. I guess. I'm happy, Spike. There. I said it."

"Aww, D!"

Spike jumped into Daemia's arms, nuzzling his face like a small cat. 

"I will knock you into next Tuesday, let g---awww fine." Deadboy rolled his eyes, but placed one gentle hand on his friend's hat, patting it. "Thanks, mate. You know, none of these GSA c**ts say it enough, but ever since you and Cian and Kengo joined up, you three have been like a damn trinity of joy, or somethin'. You're like the...I dunno, the glue that holds the place together."

Deadboy grabbed Spike by the shoulders and held him in front of him, at arm's length, so he could look at him.

"Especially you."

"Wow. Thanks." Spike felt his eyes getting all starry. This was where he'd normally start to crush on a hot guy for complimenting him.

But then he realized that Daemian's friendship was much more valuable.

"Don't get used to it," Daemian scowled. He jabbed a thumb at the bar. "Well. I'm gonna get back on the sauce. Maybe I'll dark-corridor to Joseph. Been meaning to check up on him in Japan. Heard Kengo is going to be fighting in Okami for a match."

"Shit!" Spike exclaimed, loudly. He'd been so preoccupied with the tournament, and the Chalice drama, that he'd forgotten to check in on his own roommate. "I should go support him."

"Something tells me that you need rest," Daemian said.

Damn, Deadboy actually caring about me? I must be dreamin'

 "Uncle Daniel isn't much for drinking--or compliments--so he's not around but I'm sure I can convince him to zap you back to San Antonio lickity-split."

"That power..." Spike said, under his breath. "Even your Dark Corridors take some time to get through, and not just any normal person can traverse them..."

"Yeah, it's how airplanes stay in business--what's your point?"

"But Uncle Daniel's glyph..."

Daemian looked concerned, not an emotion Spike usually associated with him. "Please keep it a secret, Spike. I'm no tryin' to threaten you, just..."

"Well?"

The punk looked askance. "His glyph is 'Space'."

Spike frowned. "Quit fuckin' with me, wise guy. That glyph do't exist. The book Varla gave me says Space and Time magi went extinct long, long ago."

"Your book don't know the half of it, mate, trust me. Magick is so much stranger and crazier than any egghead scholar knows." 

There really was a smart, considerate fellow under that grungy exterior. Who knew? Certainly not Spike. There's tons more I need to learn about magick. Shit.

"Just keep on guard, Spike. I got this feeling in me gut...thing's are about to get intense." With that ominous delivery, Daemian walked away, leaving Spike in the dust.

"More intense?" Spike mumbled. He walked back to the bar. Cian was drinking by himself again, but judging from the half finished pint next to him, only temporarily. "Hey...Cian."

Cian looked like he had just eaten his own shoe in front of Spike. "Er. Hi."

"I'm sorry about Buck--"

"Why are you apologising?" Cian's eyes immediately went to the bathroom door in the back, and Spike put two-and-two togher. "We aren't a thing. I thought we squared that away in the hotel."

"Er...right. I just felt."

"Guilty?" Cian smirked at him. "I'm not going to say anything, boyo. Besides, Mick is coming back in a moment and he...is" Cian blushed. "He is cuuuuute."

"Wah!" Spike's eyes lit up. "Ciannnn!"

The Irish stud put a finger to his lips. "Don't blow this for me, boyo. Besides, we got bigger fish to fry. I need to call John Henry tomorrow." Cian surveyed the room, and, satisfied they were safe, lowered is voice. "While I was trying to apprehend Redback, that Gold Mask guy appeared."

"No frickin' way. Him?"

"Spike, keep your voice down!"

"Sorry!"

"Anyways, big lad saved my arse."

"So....he's a good...guy?"

Cian didn't look so certain. "He gives me a weird feeling, Brooklyn. I'm not saying I'm the best magi out there, but I got a keen eye for magick. His is...it's powerful, and I know he's restraining it. I don't know what his deal is, or why he's helping us, but nothing about him sits right with me." 

Just as Spike went to say something more, Mick barged into the scene. He grabbed Spike with one arm, and Cian with the other. Kissed both on the cheek too.

"Can I buy you lads a drink?"

Spike didn't want to steal this moment from his friend, and so gently removed himself from Mick's grasp. "You can by that lad a drink." He looked at Cian and mouthed 'go get 'em tiger.'

Cian glared, as his face turned beet-red. "Feck off. Thank you. By the way....Buck's upstairs. Drinking by himself." He looked away. "You should go fix that."

Spike felt his heart sink. He removed himself from the room and crept up the staircase, terrified and excited. When he got upstairs (and damn, the Aussies had giant pubs) Spike looked around for any sign of his boss, crush, and friend. A few skeletons sat around a table playing Poker, but that was it. The bartender, a lizard woman, pointed politely to the terrace.

Spike found himself looking out over the harbor, at the lights of Horror Land under the harbor bridge. It was then that he realized the night sky above, normally a gray, washed out ceiling with scant few stars, was completely covered in cosmic brilliance. Galaxies. Constellations. Spike had only seen this type of night sky when he was sailing below the equator, far out sea, where the lights of the city couldn't reach. It didn't make sense.

"Woah..." he said. "How?"

"People think dark magick is inherently evil," someone said from above.

Spike craned his neck up. There was a small ladder leading to the pub's roof, the sight of its steepled clock face. "Buck?"

Buck poked his handsome face over the side of the upper roof. "But dark magi can do beautiful things like take the light pollution out of the sky, giving us the true night." He looked up. "The dark magi of Sydney cast a spell tonight in celebration. Can you believe it?" He fell back, past where Spike couldn't see. "I should warn you...I'm a bit high."

"And I'm a but drunk," Spike said, with a trill in his heart, as he climbed up the ladder. He found Buck, knees to chest, underneath the large, stained-glass clock face. "So I guess we're both on the ropes, eh?"

Buck patted the ground next to him, indicating Spike should sit. 

Spike, deciding to take the lead this time, kissed him quick, before either of them could get into their heads about it.

Buck winced. "Oh."

"EXCUSE YOU?" Spike said, offended. 

"No, not because of the kiss! It's just...I heard they made you drink out of Daemian's boot. Which means...I just kissed the mount that drank from Deadboy's shoe."

"It's called 'a shooey'. And I'm not going to say rude thing's about someone else's culture but..." Spike felt his stomach turn.

"You probably just immunized yourself against like 8 tropical diseases doing that. Also, congrats on saving Sydney or whatever."

"You helped."

"I know," Buck said, snarky. "Your aim needs work."

"Your face needs work!" Spike winced. "Ugh, no it doesn't"

"You're such a dork, Yank."

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"I'm going to let you."

And without fanfare or build-up, Spike and Buck's lips were suddenly connected again. And for a while, too. Spike couldn't remember the last time he'd locked lips with someone for so long. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe. He wanted to drown in Buck's kiss, if it were possible. 

They broke away at the same time. Buck, smiling, couldn't resist falling back on teasing. "Wow, I can't believe it only took a kaiju to get you to finally make a damn move."

Easily rattled, Spike blushed. "I WAS WAITING FOR YOU TO DO SOMETHING, BUCK. Also, was it technically a kaiju or a Lovecraft?"

"I think it's only a kaiju if it comes from Japan, otherwise it's sparkling eldritch horror."

"...And you tellin' me I'm the dork?"

"Yes. So...what now?"

Spike and Buck looked at each other as if they were suddenly the last two men on Earth.

Immediately, Spike turned to how stupid all of this was. And sudden. He felt like he was on a runaway train, but strangely...he wanted to see whether or not it would crash or end up somewhere new, exciting...

Maybe even stable.

"You're the president of the GSA," Spike blurted out, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he was doing. "If El Amante finds out about this. I dunno what's worse, getting put in a deathlock or having to file out a disciplinary form. At least one would turn me on more than the other."

Buck acknowledge Spike's concern, and promptly jumped up on his Chuck Taylors, striking a dramatic, heroic pose.

He took on an exaggerated accent. "'Mi hijo, as head of HR I cannot in good faith condone your relations with a fellow employee....however, as the Guardian of Love, I hold romance to be sacred above all other things, and I strongly encourage you to woo Spike and make him feel like the most special man in all the world'." 

Buck sat back down next to Spike. he winked at him. "Is probably what he'd say."

Unfortunately, he was right. "I can't believe we put so much trust in a man who doesn't even show his real face. But look, Buck, I don't want to fuck things up. I got a history."

"I know. So do I. Besides, I'm more of a take things slow guy. Look, with Rosa...someone I really liked went on to bigger and better things. I guess I'm afraid of that happening to you too, because let's face it...you're probably on the way to champ."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I just got silver star status, Buck."

"Within a year?" He gave him a bemused expression. "The last person to do that..."

He swallowed his words.

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Hm?"

"...Was my dad."

"OH! But wait, I thought he--"

"Calavera Escarlata came up with the star system. Dad trained under him." The heir to the GSA shuffled in his seat and looked up at the brilliant sky. "He has no idea I'm in Australia, probably. Ever since Varla showed up, he's gone off the deep end. I think he went to Japan to blow off steam with Okami. He'll beat up a few brutes, throw back a few sake bombs, and then get it out of system. I feel like I should...I dunno, be trying to get to know Varla and Laura better. I mean, a half-sister! That's nuts."

"Oh, and your...actual mom," Spike pointed out.

"We know what our relationship looks like now. She's fine." 

Judging from the look in Buck's eyes, Spike believed it. 

"I know where everyone sits in my life now, Yank. Except...you."

In a moment of resounding clarity, and unexpected maturity, Spike lowered his shoulders and looked at Buck without expectation, nor judgment. "Well, what do you want?"

"For now, fun."

Spike nodded. "I guess I'm okay with fun."

"And  to see where it goes. And...I would like it to go somewhere."

The innocent spark of romance. Spike and Buck kissed anew, smiling, giggling, feeling stupid and drunk and high.

It was great.

Spike sighed. Okay, make some moves. Heartbreaker smile activated. "Well, for starters...we could go back to my hotel. Unless Cian is there. With Mick."

Buck leaned in closer. "We can go back to mine. Business suite? Champagne. Do you like champagne."

"No."

"Neither do I, actually."

"But I do like mimosas."

"Wow. How gay."

"Buck, you like men too."

"I think peach bellinis are more of a bi thing."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too--let's pick up orange juice on the way back to my hotel."

Spike smiled. Inside, he felt a strange sensation in his heart, a bloom of warmth. It was odd.

He...had never felt this way about another man before.

----

By the time they got into the fresh-smelling hotel room, Buck and Spike were clawing at each other, hands going under shirts, feeling up muscles, and awkwardly falling down to the bed.

Somehow, Buck found himself straddling Spike.

"I mean...this material here is kinda like a mat. Why don't you show me some wrestling?"

"I dunno. I can be kinda rough, Buck." Spike flexed his bicep and gave Buck his signature wink.

"Unmf!" Buck said, longingly (and somewhat comically) feeling up Spike's boulder bicep. "That arm. But...rough, huh? Well, I can be rough too."

Spike wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow Buck had flipped him over--with grappling expertise.

The Sailorboy was both embarrassed and proud "Damn, boy! Strong. Like, unexpectedly."

"I get that a lot," Buck said, taking off his shirt. "Come on Sailor, you aren't gonna let a big heel like me end your streak, are ya?"

"Damn, abs! That chest. Holy shit, Buck, where were you hiding all that muscle?" Spike signed himself over to impulse. He'd been with muscle men, fat men, twinks, bears, wolves, otters--the whole zoo. 

But right now? A wild buck was the hottest thing he'd ever set eyes on.

So began the hunt.

Spike sat up, facing Buck, head bent forward in mischievous challenge. Their foreheads touched as they circled each other on their knees, on top of the bedspread 'ring'.

"Oh, we're taking off our shirts now?" Spike said. Though far more sober, Spike nevertheless seized the moment and conjured up enough might to rip his t-shirt right off his chest.

Buck's jaw dropped.

"Gah, yep...there's that Sailor Strength."

They found themselves midway between grappling and wildly, passionate making out with each other. Spike knew his strength and didn't want to make Buck feel bad. Buck didn't want to risk looking weak in front of Spike. Somehow, they met in the middle, both men gaining ground, falling over each other, twisting each other in a fluid dance that was part wrestling match and part dance.

Naturally, Spike ended up on top, letting Buck's hand explore his abs, up to his chest. Their eyes met.

A decision was made.

Spike, for some reason, felt like he was losing his virginity all over again (and it had been awhile). "I mean, if we're going to be doing some wrestling, we might as well..." he tugged at his zipper.

"Pull a Gio?" Buck said, arching an eyebrow. Then, he got the message. "Oh...like...traditional....wrestling"

"Yeah...."

"Yeah."

"..."

Spike pulled down his pants and jock strap. Buck pulled down his jeans and boxer briefs.

Two silhouettes of two fit men in their twenties, in the nude, sizing each other up.

Spike's eyes went downward. "Holy...shit." He IS his dad's son.

"I was going to say the...same. It's not fair that you..." Buck looked into Spike's eyes. "Have both going on."

Spike blinked. "I was a pinup boy, remember?"

"...Spike."

"...Buck."

A mix between kissing and grappling renewed, limbs tangled with limbs, a struggle as much as an exploration.

Suddenly, in the midst of passion, Spike found his neck captured by Buck. "AGH, a guillotine?"

He was strong. Way stronger than Spike expected.

Way stronger than he should be...

Though Spike couldn't see the playful sadism in Buck's eyes, he felt the stubble on his chin against the curvature of his back as Buck said, both soft and cruelly, "Let's hear it. Or do you want to go out?"

Spike had no choice but to tap out.

He yanked his head back and looked at his crush, naked and godlike. Buck was just as shocked as him.

"You just made me tap, and you aren't even--" Spike cut himself off before he could misspeak, but by then it was too late. "Oh, sorry."

And you aren't even a magi.

Buck frowned, sighed, and looked away. "You know how to ruin a moment."

"Yeah," Spike said, deeply embarrassed. He scratched his head. "I know."

"You wouldn't want to date a guy with no glyph."

"That's dumb, Buck. I want...I want you."

The hazel-eyed hunk looked over at him. They found themselves wrapped up in each other again.

"Spike."

"You can call me 'Sammy' if you want." 

"It's cute. You're cute. Can I touch you like this?"

"You can do that...and more."

Spike seized the moment, and put Buck back on his back, on top anew. "Ha! Got ya!"

"Oh yeah!? I got you noOooohhh fuck...."

"Yeah, I don't think we're wrestling in the traditional sense any more." 

"Buck..."

"Spike...."

----

Somewhere in Japan, amidst a roar of boos from the disapproving crowd, Vahni Rage placed his red boot on the back on the unconscious, broken, and burned champion of the Okami federation. The ref raised Rage's arm to the skies in victory.

"Unhand me, peasant," Rage snarled tearing his arm away. He snatched the belt from the humble officials, and stepped out of the ring. "Now, be gracious to your new champion and fetch me a towel and some sparkling water. With lemon. Or else."

As Rage strutted by disapproving fans, some of them in tears, his burning, dark eyes set themselves upon a strange, pink-haired woman with a cute face, a tutu, and a cats ears and tail. Cognizant of the camera, Rage waited til he was backstage before he snapped his fingers at the PA's and dismissed them (after taking his water and towel of course).

He realized the small woman was carrying a microphone (with a giant heart and bow wrapped around the stem). She did not seem afraid. She smiled and closed her eyes. "Nyaaaa."

Without breaking eye contact, Rage sipped from his straw and sighed. "And who the hell are you?"

The little woman turned around and struck a pose (sparks of light flew from her pink hair, reminding Rage briefly of Iggy Astro) "Just everyone's favorite spellbreaking reporter for Okami, Nekole. Nyyaaaa! Rage-san, you just defeated the champ!"

Rage sighed. "Gods, why me." Unfortunately, though he wouldn't say it out loud, she was...cute.

Plus, if she wasn't afraid of him, she was either respectful or deeply stupid. "What business do you have with me..." Rage groaned. "Miss...Nekole."

Suddenly, Rage was surrounded by TV cameras (all of them capped with cat's ears).

"Gods...really?"

"Everyone wants to know, Mr. Rage! Now that you made it this far into the World Championships, the only logical opponent left for you take on would be White Tiger! And you know I'm a fan of a big, cute cat man, nyaaan! Can you confirm that you've got your eyes set on the champion of the GSA?"

Rage cocked his head to the side, scratching his beard in contemplation. It was a valid question. After all, Semyon (the snake) had informed him that this was to be Rage's next big booking. Not that Rage could object. The man paid his bills.

But...then again...do I even need the money at this point?

A dark impulse took hold. Fights like this always made him more clear headed, like he could see all of his possible paths laid out. And this time, his path wasn't going to be dictated by Semyon Grigorivich, or Firebird. 

"You know, Nekole, my beauty, that is a rather good question." Courteous to those who showed him sincere admiration, and not toadying fear, Rage respectfully gestured for her to hand him the mic.

The starry-eyed cat girl obliged.

Grr. It's so...pink. "Right. Well, my loyal worshippers and stupid peasants alike, the last thing your favorite spellbreaker would want to do is disappointed you, or even worse, do something boring an expected. I am not a blood-starved hound meant to be tied on a short collar. Far from it. I'm a divine beast, sent to bring retribution to the weak and miserable. So, I'm a bit insulted you think a little...kitty cat like White Tiger would be challenge enough for the Warrior of Flame."

Watching on a TV set miles away in his chamber of the Russian palace, Grigorivich suddenly leaned in and turned up the volume on his TV set. "Oh? Rage, my sweet child...what do you think you're doing?"

Rage's handsome, cruel face stared directly down the camera. "No. A beast of the gods needs a more worthy opponent. And I hear there's a golden lion named Sailorboy Spike who's been making waves." 

Smeyon clutched the TV remote harder. "Hmmm?"

On TV, Nekole gasped, excited. "Yes! The Sailor Stud has a growing fanbase here in Japan too! He's Kuma Kengo's roommate! We love him."

Rage nodded. "Then, how unfortunate that I will need to take him from you. Spike knows it's been a long time coming, this battle between us. It's destiny. Fate. Which is why I am going to set the terms of the fight--and I say that our arena shall be in my family's temple, in India." His sneer at the camera could have easily broken the lens.

Everyone gasped. "WHAT?"

In his chamber, Semyon snapped the remote control in two. 

Rage wasn't done yet. Eyes glowing like embers, a fiery aura surrounded him. "Did you hear that, Spike? It's time I ended your little streak, and perhaps your career. I told you this once already, my little lion...you belong to me!" 

To Be Continued