This story is part of Project Cheaters (2020)
Trigger warning for this and future chapters: BDSM, violence, cheating, seduction, turning gay, trauma, PTSD, consensual rough sex, bondage
All characters depicted in explicit scenes are consenting adults (18+).
Enjoy 😉
MATT
It was Monday morning. We naturally took a day off.
I was so sore I thought I would need another week until I would be able to sit without the pain. But I loved it! I pushed my body this weekend further than it had ever been and got to know Thomas from a whole new perspective. We did it in every room of this house; we have done it rough, tenderly, and I think everything in between one could think of! That guy knew how to work man's body to ecstasy, and I couldn't help but cherish him now even more.
I came to his kitchen and watched Thomas making breakfast. He was naked, and the marks all over his body gave me a rush as the memories within them spoke to me. I got hard instantly, not even pondering where all that cum came from? I've shot so many times this weekend that I just lost count.
He turned to me and smiled.
"Good morning, Matt."
"Good morning, Thomas."
I came behind him, kissed him on his ear, and ran my tongue up his neck. That vein has become my best friend now. He was so cute when he shivered every time I licked it.
His stumble started growing, and it nicely filled his face. It suited him, and I didn't mind it one bit. Actually, I kinda thought it was hot.
His firm butt pressed on my rigid cock, and he chuckled.
"Still haven't got enough?"
"I'm beginning to think that never will be enough. Especially seeing you like this."
I lightly bit his shoulder. Thomas moaned and turned to me, wrapping his hands around me.
"Enjoy it. This is our last day," he said with a smile, but his eyes were serious.
"Then I think I will move my company here. I should have a new computer delivered here within a few hours."
He laughed and took both plates to the table.
"Are we going actually to eat it this time?" I asked smugly.
He chuckled and looked at me with a devious smile.
"We should," he said.
"Well, I suppose we will need the energy."
"You had been eating quite a lot yesterday," he winked at me, and I remembered. My dick started leaking again.
"We should do something like this in my office. I love having sex in there."
He looked at me with a severe expression.
"What?"
"I meant that, Matt. We will never have sex again after today."
"Why not? I think we have a good thing going on."
Thomas gave me that stern look that started all my fantasies back then, but this time it felt suffocating and not arousing.
"Are you planning on breaking up your engagement?"
"I honestly don't know. It crossed my mind."
We talked a lot this weekend, and I told him my realization that Natasha may not be for me. I thought he meant this with that question.
"Are you planning on coming out as bi?"
"No." This time, I looked seriously into his eyes. This was the line for me.
"Right. So you want me to be your secret."
"You are a sadist. That's a bit outside the norm as well. You want to tell me that your hookups post that about themselves on their social media?" I leisurely started eating.
Thomas looked offended, but I was just being frank.
"Some. But they are at least not in the closet."
"Yet I suppose most of them don't out themselves that they like to be tied up and choked."
Was he getting angry? His face looked fierce, and the vein on his neck started bulging harder.
"Do you disclose the way you like to have sex with your fiancé or women in general?"
"Sometimes… In a way. I like to brag to a few close friends from time to time, but that's normal."
"I seriously hope you mean normal is that a man likes to brag, not that sex with a woman is what's normal in this scenario," his voice got so cold.
"Well, you can be as open-minded as you'd like, but you must admit that it's more common for guys to brag about scoring with chicks than with… what do you call men for hookups?"
Yes, he was definitely furious now.
"You really are sexist!" the disappointment in voice was unmistakable.
I finished my meal and looked calmly at him.
"Look, I am just saying that if I would go to any group of people and told them I scored with a beautiful woman, I'd get cheers, and if I would come saying that about a beautiful man, I get stares," I shrugged my shoulders as I had just said the most obvious thing one could think of.
He stood up and went to the counter, putting his plate on it.
"I was right. This was a huge mistake."
"Thomas, stop, wait."
.
What followed was the first real argument I had with this man, and it was scary. The coldness that radiated from him, the sheer power in his voice. I felt cornered, and he never even raised his voice. But I am not the one to bow my head and refuse the fight when I see one. So we went full-on with it. No screaming, no physical attacks this time, just argument after argument, comment after comment, until both of us were fuming with hatred toward the other.
"I think you should leave Matt."
"I think we should fuck."
"I think you have just stated that you are not gay."
"I think this is getting ridiculous."
"I agree," he couldn't help but smirk slightly. He frowned right after, but I already saw that he found this hilarious, as did I.
"I think you want to fuck me." I came closer, keeping that redundant 'I think'. I found it funny at this point.
"I think you are pushing your luck, bitch," he sneered. He was obviously aroused but, at the same time, probably still angry. Will he finally punish me? He refused to do that the whole weekend no matter how many times I told him that I wanted to try it.
"I think you know that I can take it." I was right in front of him, my solid chest pumped and my cock hard. Yes, the stern coldness when he was angry was turn-on as hell for me. I am officially weird. Don't give a fuck. Just the idea of having a real hate-fuck with him made my asshole twitch with anticipation.
"I think your pussy can't take much more."
"I think you are dying to try it, cunt."
We stood there, our noses maybe an inch apart. We stared at each other, and the tension between us was massive. We both knew Thomas was enraged, but we knew this was hot. I saw in him he wanted to punish me badly, and he saw in my eyes that I wanted just that!
There was a short moment of that hot, tense silence.
"Get the fuck out."
"Make me, bitch."
"What will you tell your fiance about you being marked all over?"
"Do I seem like I care about that now, boy?"
"Do not call me boy, bitch."
"This seems to be an issue with you, boy. Did I hit the nerve?"
It started to get hard to breathe in here. And we both knew we needed more. I don't even remember what we were fighting about initially. I just wanted him to punish me badly!
"I am not going to sleep with you, Matt."
Is he trying to calm himself down? No!
"Don't worry, fag, …"
I was going to continue the sentence along the lines I don't want to sleep with him, that I want to fuck… but the way he looked at me made me freeze on the spot. Even when one is trying so hard to achieve something, there is a point when one knows… Fuck! I knew. I knew that I had crossed the line. I crossed it big time, and it was too late. The look of him! Now I knew I would go home. The way he glared at me after saying that word was nothing that I'd seen all weekend. There was no rage, no hot anger. This was a frozen solid statue of a pagan God staring at me with utter disgust.
He turned around and walked away. Shortly, he came back, and in his hands were my clothes. He didn't even look at me when he opened his front door and threw them out. I looked at the clock on his oven, which read 9:12 am. Then I felt Thomas grab my hand and twist it behind my back; the other hand pulled my hair, and before I realized it, he was dragging me to the door.
Fuck! I messed up big time!
"No! Thomas, STOP! NO!"
I tried to fight, but he obviously had done this before. I had no chance in hell! Within a few seconds, I was thrown butt-naked on the street, and his doors slammed behind me. I heard a lock.
"Fuck!" I whispered between my gritted teeth. I knew there was no way he was going to open for me. Obviously, he doesn't care more than I do not make a public scene and bring attention to my naked figure covered with bruises and bite marks.
"Fuck!"
.
I reached for my pants and picked them up. My shoes, phone, wallet, and keys fell from that bundle of my clothes, and I put the pants on and grabbed the rest, running into my car.
I looked around, paranoid, and thankfully, I didn't see anyone on the street. I put my shirt on, caressing the place where a few buttons were ripped off, knowing that I would not be able to close it. Then, I put socks and shoes on. There were no boxers, though. I liked that.
What now? I seriously didn't think this through!
I picked up my phone and dialed a number.
"Hi, Matt, what's up?"
"Brandon, I am coming over. I need a place to crash for a couple of days."
"Okay… Sure. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, sure, why shouldn't it be?" I looked at my ripped shirt and bruised torso.
"When will you be here?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Well… I guess I'll see you soon."
"Thanks."
Then I started the car and dialed Roger.
"Hi, Matt. How it went?" his cheery voice sounded from the speaker, and I frowned.
"Not good, but I don't want to talk about that."
"Doesn't matter, if I should be honest, one more project with them, and I would probably need therapy."
"Tell me about that."
"Is Thomas with you?"
"No, he will come tomorrow, I think. I don't know. We had a little misunderstanding."
"What did you say to him, Matt? Please don't make him quit!"
"OK, Roger, focus. I am taking the rest of the week off."
There was silence on the other line. Like deep, heavy silence. Fuck you all with all those silent treatments! I am getting sick of it!
"Glad you understand. See you Monday."
"What…"
I heard that as I turned off the call and stepped on the gas.
"Fuck him!"
Good, finally, I feel something! I was furious! I changed the gears and slammed my fist on the wheel.
"Fuck him!"
.
Third, I dialed Natasha. What am I going to tell her? I created this short scenario where I needed to stay longer because of the project and clients, but when she picked up, I pretty much growled into the receiver.
"Matt?"
"I need some space. I am going to Brandon's. I will call you on Sunday."
"What? Matt, what is going on?"
"I will call you Sunday, Natasha."
I pressed the touch screen on my dashboard, ending the call and stepping on the gas again. I watched the blurry surrounding speed around me and gripped the wheel as memories of that night came back to me… No! I started shaking and felt like everything was falling on me. I couldn't breathe, and my vision blurred from tears forming in my eyes.
I made a sharp turn and drifted on the side of the road, spinning. The car stopped, but the world didn't stop crushing down on me. I slammed the wheel many times and roared into an empty interior.
.
I spent quite a long time like that, trying to get through it until I calmed down. I was nearly at Brandon's and decided to make it there.
I picked up my phone and texted Thomas.
Matt: "Are you coming to the office tomorrow?"
Thomas: "Do you want me to?"
Matt: A Deal is a fucking Deal
Thomas: Then I will see you tomorrow in the office
Matt: I am taking this week off
There was a short pause before he responded with:
Thomas: Then I will see you when you return.
Fuck him!
I started the car and went to Brandon's.
.
Brandon was my best friend since we were twelve and started freerunning. He lived now in a fancy apartment building, and I stood on the hall in a ripped shirt, bruises all over, waiting for him to open the damn door finally.
Now. I think Brandon saw me in most states of "fucked-up” he could imagine, but seeing me now at his front door was probably one he hadn't yet. He didn't even speak; he just looked at me like he was unsure if he should mock me, console me, or grab a jacket and beat the man I pointed to. Brandon stood there speechless, and I quickly went inside. I came in, and this small mirror hung next to the door. I looked at myself, and damn, I looked pitiful. There were apparent marks on my throat and bitemarks on my chest. My eyes were red as if I was just crying, and my hair was disheveled like I had been in a fight for my life.
"Did someone kidnap you?" I couldn't tell if he was serious.
"No."
"Right. Did Natasha do that?"
I looked at him like he was stupid. We both knew Natasha could never pull something like this off. Sure, she would scream and cry, but she was weak as a fly and never the physically aggressive type.
"Right… Then who did?"
"You should see the other guy," I said jokingly. I meant that as one of those things we used to say when we were young and came beaten up after a bar fight. But Brandon obviously didn't get my witticism, maybe since it was apparent that those on my chest were bitemarks.
"You let a guy do that?!"
Fuck! No… There is one thing not to tell him and let him assume it was a woman and a whole different straight-up lie to him. I could pull that on anyone else, but Brandon was like a brother to me. He knew me best. He knew me more than my fucked-up parents or my wife.
"Fuck… It was a joke!" I tried, but he observed me closely now.
"A guy DID that!" It was only for the briefest moment that my face probably betrayed me, but he knew me well enough to catch that.
"Was that consensual?" his worried look pierced my eyes.
"Yes." I was sure he could see I was being genuine cos his mouth opened in slight amusement. Here we go…
"Are you gay now?"
"No, of course, I am not gay, Brandon."
"Ok, so you bi or something."
"Why is everyone labeling me now? No! I am not anything!"
"Chill, bro. This was just unexpected, that's all," he ogled me with wide eyes, and his lips started slowly curve into a grin. Great…
"This is top secret, Brandon. Is that clear?!"
"Sure, but can I tell at least to guys? When are you going to introduce him to us?"
He looked so amused. He was grinning like this was the most hilarious thing that had happened to him all year.
"Shut up. We are not telling anyone!"
"Why? They would be cool with it."
"I wouldn't be cool!"
"No, you were obviously hot!" he looked at me, head to toe, with such a mocking grimace I wanted to punch him.
He was one colossal grin as he walked into the living room.
"Do you want a beer, or are you full?" he smirked at me.
"Seriously, stop it, or I will stay at the hotel."
"Oh, poor me, not having a freeloader on my couch. Or do you want to share my bed?" he winked at me.
Right, I'm definitely not telling anyone!
"Can you lend me a shirt?"
"Sure, bro, come." he was still looking at me with a smug, but at least he didn't make another sick remark.
We got into his bedroom, and he pulled out a cotton shirt handing it to me.
"What's his name?"
"Stop that."
"No, please, I need to know. Do I know him?"
"No."
"Do I know of him?"
I stared at him silently and grabbed the shirt. I threw it on the bed and took off my ripped one. When my chest and arms got fully exposed, he breathed silently, "Fuck…."
"Do you have something with long sleeves?"
"Man, did he tie you down?"
I exhaled, and my cock twitched at that memory. "Yes."
"Who fucked who?"
"Stop it. Do you have a long sleeve?"
"No, I'm all out," he smirked, but when he saw my not-at-all-amused face, he just turned and handed me one.
"Even though, maybe you should leave it to breathe if you want it healed sooner."
"Fuck." I took the short one with resignation.
"Don't worry. I will let you know if we will have guests," he wasn't even trying to suppress his laughter now.
"So those are two questions you still haven't answered."
"Can you give me some rest?"
"Would you, if I came covered in bite marks like this to you?"
We both knew I would be worse. I really am evil.
I gave up. It was Brandon. I felt I could tell him anything; I just braced for the never-ending taunting, which is inevitable now anyway.
"His name is Thomas. He is my personal assistant. We both fucked each other. He is a sadist, and I am probably too. I am not gay or bi. I just loved being fucked by him and fucking him."
"Isn't that definition of being gay?"
"No. I'm just a hedonist. I could never date a guy."
"Is he also not gay or bi?"
"No, he is gay."
"Right, so you have an affair with your gay assistant? While, of course, you are perfectly straight."
"We are not having an affair. We won't sleep together after today."
"Right… sure, and just a quick question, whose decision is that?"
I pierced him with my angry look. He just smirked and raised his brow. "His," I admitted.
"I thought so, and where are you coming from now?"
"His house."
"Why didn't he let you stay there? Why did you come here?"
He reached and pulled out some sweatpants for me.
I took them. "I will need some underwear as well."
He laughed out loud so hard that tears fell down his cheeks. Fucker. This was a mistake.
"Sure, of course. Here."
He handed them to me but still couldn't stop laughing. Well, until I took my pants off, and he saw the state of my legs and my butt. Then he stopped and just watched me, amused, getting dressed.
"So, why?"
"He threw me out for calling him a fag."
"I heard people don't like that. So why did you even call him that?"
"I wanted to make him angry."
"Why?"
"I wanted him to hate-fuck me."
"You are sick, bro. I love you, and it's all good, but damn!"
"How long have you had this… preference?"
"I don't know. I don't think I had it before."
"Bro, you were looking for a fight since you were little. I'm not asking that. I mean, since when do you like that in sex?"
"I told you I don't know! I never let myself be like that with any woman. I would be in prison if I would. They are just too fragile. What woman calls rough sex is just scratching the surface of what I can actually do to a right guy."
"Were there more?"
"No! I told you I am not gay."
He looked meaningfully at me, and I rolled my eyes.
"So what now?"
"I don't know. I want my body to heal before I meet with Natasha."
"Are you still going to marry her?"
"Sure. Why not."
It's not like I will ever be with Thomas. And I can't imagine looking for some other guy. So I will probably get used to living as I lived before and maybe get Thomas to do me like this again to get it out of my system.
"No judgment here, bro, but I live in this apartment cos I liked pussy too much to be just with one, and as you know, even when I thought I had everything covered, Flo found out. And as you surely remember, divorce is a dirty business."
"Then what would you do?"
"Decide what you really want and then bear the consequences."
"Now you sound like Nate."
"Nate is one of the wisest men I know."
"You telling that about John or Dan as well, depending on whom you are quoting at the moment."
"Sure, they are all smart."
"Do you say that about me as well?"
"No!" he said with a grin and left the room.
I smiled. I am glad I have this man as a friend.
.
.
>> Chapter 11 – At Brandon's place
Hi
This story is part of a larger collection of stories set in the same city, at the same time, happening to a group of friends and acquaintances.
Each story is a standalone storyline, but some side characters may have their own story either in this project or my other.
Feel free to check out my profile or Patreon page for more content.