naught

He's staring in the window of the bottom floor, burning ember hanging off the end of his cigarette. 

He knows he shouldn't be here so late at night, but he's here all the same.

He slips around the edge of the building, dark eyes following the shadowed body as it drifts from the kitchen to the living room. The figure holds a bag in his hand as he collapses on the couch and soon a pale blue light washes over the man's fancy glasses as the television clicks to life.

He stubs his cigarette out in the bush, pocketing the butt as he gets close enough to press his nose to the window. 

Paranoia makes his eyes flick over his shoulder at the privacy fence he's checked twelve times, terrified the nosy neighbor will be able to spy Henry engaging in some Very Suspicious Activity.

It's an easy job - get in, do the thing, get out. He's done it a million times before and, if not a million, then at least three.

Henry always had to stop just before That Part. But creeping around this house was hilariously simple, the idiots who lived there didn't close any of their blinds. Henry had spent the better part of his day watching the handsome - 

His prey was easily 6'4' and his dark hair was longer than usual. Dark eyes peered from behind horn-rimmed glasses at some show Henry couldn't see. Judging by the laughter his quarry kept chirping, it was probably a sitcom.

Glancing around, Henry spied a bookcase in the corner, filled with titles he couldn't make out since he'd left his own glasses in the car, knowing they'd only get in the way. A piece of evidence he couldn't bare - no - afford to leave behind. 

A dog snoozed in a kennel in the opposite corner, a short-legged Corgi that didn't move when Dinner entered the room. Hopefully out for the night, Henry didn't have time to try to corral the dog from biting his leg off, though he'd once read that a crated dog could bark as long as she wanted. 

Tension snapped through his body when a loud click was followed by a flood of light. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the neighbors were filing out onto the porch for a jambouree. It was probably just a drunken smoke break but the suddeness of their voices startled Henry into creeping lower around a bush of petunias, inching closer to the house. 

If he didn't act now, they would discover him before he even had a chance.

Henry slinked up the few cutely paved stones to the back door and fumbled around with the lock for a moment. Hearing a satisfying click, he slowly pushed it open, slipping inside. A screened in back porch  gave him cover to spy on the intrusive neighbors who had begun to play music. He glared at them from beside the brick wall, tugging his black ski mask over his face. 

Nervous eyes ticked over to the second door, which would be much easier to enter if his information was correct. He did a quick inventory of the porch (wooden swing, two cushioned deck loungers, an ancient grill, a metal table with a crude mosaic of beer bottle caps, lighters, and an ashtray), found a hanging fern by the door that would fool even the beginner botanist. 

He reached into the pot to produce a key that he clicked into the slot, careful to keep the latch from clicking as he slowly peeked the door open. As he did, the television clicked off in the living room and he heard a rustle as his target rose from the couch. 

"Goodnight, Violet." His deep voice tiptoed into the kitchen as Henry splayed himself against the pantry door, desperately trying to stand still, even as a grey cat greeted him, meowing as it wound through his legs.

Henry tried to shoo the cat away but it continued it's mewling. "Martha? What's wrong, baby?" Henry could hear the footsteps following the voice. Shit! He ducked past the pantry, into the dining room, which was probably the worst way he could've gone because it meant he had to dart past the doorway to do so. If luck was on his side, Marshall wouldn't have rounded the corner of the living room to the kitchen so quickly.

Luck was not his middle name.

Henry waited breathlessly against the wall as the cat followed him. He could hear Marshall pause at the doorway of the kitchen. A pause before the light switch came on. "...Hello?" His voice was low, but it was the tinge of fear that excited Henry the most. Knowing, yet not knowing, that someone was there but he couldn't see him. That he was terrified of what might happen if he didn't get a weapon. That this might be his very last night to be peacefully alone with his thoughts. 

"I...I know you're there."

Henry bit his lip, hand sliding down. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I...I'll call the police! I know -"

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

Henry slipped easily around the corner, leveling a Ruger into the face of the dark-haired giant. Marshall's hands went up immediately, eyes widening at the shorter figure, clad in all black, wielding a gun in his face. They locked eyes and Henry felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"T-The money's in the safe. I can t-take you to it. Just p-please don't shoot me!"

Henry snorted. "What, so you can pull a gun out and shoot me first? Not a chance." He jerked the gun over Marshall's shoulder. "Turn around and walk."

Marshall started lowering his hands. "I didn't tell you to put your hands down. Now, move." 

With a prod in between his shoulder blades (so muscular!) Marshall began to move on shaky legs through the living room. Henry cast a weary eye down at Violet the Corgi and she continued to snooze on as they shuffled past her. "Damn, that dog can really sleep."

Marshall, who was walking much too slow, commented. "I gave her a sedative-"

"Enough with the small talk." Henry jabbed the gun against Marshall's shoulder as they moved down the hallway. He glanced in each room they passed, noticing each room had a different color scheme that molded quite well with the style of the hous-

"W-Where are we going?"

"Where do you think?" Finally, they reached the bedroom at the end of the hall and Henry was pleased to notice it was a king-sized bed, nicely made up for a man in his 20's living alone. He shoved the muscular man into the room and slowly closed the door. Marshall had turned around to face him and his eyes were darting around the room, as if looking for a way out of this sticky situation. 

"W-What are you-"

"Take off your clothes."

Recognition dawned on his face. "P-Please don't do this, I have a husb-"

"Are you deaf? I said take off your clothes!"

Tears popped up in the corners of Marshall's eyes as he began to unbutton his pants. He pulled them down to reveal a beautiful package wrapped up in a holiday themed jockstrap that hung between two hickory smoked ham thighs that were feathered with dark hair. His shirt came next and Henry unconsciously licked his lips as four gleaming silver balls poked out of the mans chest, nipples erect from the cold metal pierced through them.

Finally finished, Marshall stood awkwardly in front of the bed, hands covering his junk as he tried to look everywhere but at his captor. Cheeks flushed red, Henry could tell the man was getting hard, judging by the movements of his hands. 

"You little slut, you like this, don't you?" Henry smirked as he kept the gun trained at Marshall's chest, slowly rubbing himself on of the front of his own pants. "You want to taste my fat cock in your slut mouth?"

Marshall blushed harder, mouth agape. "No! I want to call my husband and then the police so you can go rot in jail!"

Henry took a step closer, pressing the gun up against Marshall's jaw. "I don't think your husband's ever coming home, sweetie." 

Tears threatened Marshall's eyes again. "W-What?"

Henry smirked, unbuttoning his pants. "I had a little run-in with him before I got over here. He was getting out of his shitty little Civic and brought a shitty little flower pot just for you. He even sensed me and looked over his shoulder. I had to duck out of view but when he looked back, I just - "

Marshall's eyed widened. "Tamatoa."

Henry shrugged. "No matter. You're still gonna be a slut for this cock." He pulled his pants down, wetness seeping at the front of his bright blue boxer briefs that clung to a brown camel toe, hidden from view. 

Marshall frowned. "You're...?"

Henry jabbed the gun against his throat. "Suck. My. Cock."

Marshall immediately went to his knees, pulling the boxers down to reveal an engorged clitoris, bigger than a marble. His tongue scraped it once and then he pulled it into his mouth, tongue rolling over the tip as he looked up at Henry, eyes pleading. 

Henry moaned loud, one hand gripping the back of Marshall's as he held the gun against his temple. "Aw fuck, you gotta good mouth. Wasted on that piece of shit husband of your's."

Marshall gasped, pulling back. "You don't know anything about him-"

Henry grabbed him roughly by the hair, jerking him back down. "Shut the fuck up, you cockslut. Make yourself useful and oh-!"

Marshall had snaked a hand up and slipped two fingers in without him knowing it. His hand started to slip on the gun but he steadied it quickly, using the leverage of his other hand to thrust his wet cock deeper into Marshall's mouth, lips grinding against the man's cheeks. The fingers punished him, pressing directly on his softest spot, prodding and poking until Henry felt the gun slip, slip, slipping from his hand.

When it fell to the floor, they both glanced at it and in the second it took for them to lock eyes, Marshall grabbed him by the thighs and threw him onto the bed.

Henry gasped in surprise as he was tossed like a sack of potatoes and tried to scramble off the bed. Marshall was too quick.

"You thought you were so smart, huh?" He asked, using his brute force to press down on Henry's wrists, pinning him to the bed so all he could do was struggled with his ankles. "Who do you think you are, barging in here like you own the place?" He began to leave soft kisses against Henry's neck, from behind the ear down to his neck.

One hand slipped down, found a tiny hole in the direct middle of Henry's black sweater and pulled it with one swift rip. "You don't own me. You're in my house and you'll do as I say." Henry gasped again as Marshall's mouth found his swollen nipple, on a breast that lolligagged to the side, swelling with anticipation as he prepared for the-

"You fucker!" He yelled, unable to stop the giggle as the quick bite was followed by intense suckling and a sloppy tongue. Henry reached up to pull at Marshall's hair, jerking his head back.

"You tramp." He growled, a hand gripping at Henry's throat as the muscular black man began to flounder in his grasp. Marshall used the other hand to sneak underneath Henry's waist and pull him closer to the headboard. Henry had no time to react as Marshall shoved a wrist into a handcuff while the other quickly followed. 

Laying back to admire his handiwork, Henry was pleased to see his partner was...quite aroused. Marshall stared down at the beautiful man in front of him, blessed with the body of a biological woman that was now at his disposal. He tested the waters by gently rubbing a thumb against the warm button that was now poking through his boxers. 

Henry gave a weak sigh as a shiver went down his body and he tried to cross his legs. Marshall smirked and pulled back, reaching for the gun on the ground. "In show business, they say the gun better go off if it's in the first act."

Henry's eyes widen. "You wouldn't."

Marshall grinned, settling himself between his lover's legs. "But I would." He promised, tongue easily parting the folds of Henry's man cave as he dove in like it was a Thanksgiving meal. He tasted lima beans, stuffing, greens, cornbread, ham, turkey. He even tasted the cranberry sauce in the back, in that hard to reach place that had Henry bucking like a bronco. 

Now wetter than frat bro's forgotten cooler, Marshall set to plunging fingers into his lover's pussy, gentle at first and slowly picking up speed. Henry's toes curled as he was plundered, an orgasm shuddering it's way to fruition as he prepared for the wave to wash over him.

Just as he was about to reach the top, he felt the cool steel slide in, strange and heavy as it slipped inside. He gasped and shuddered, clenching as the orgasm rocked his whole body, eyes rolling back as he rode with his hips, sweat trickling between his chest as he shook his head. 

Marshall was watching in fascination, his other hand now down to rub himself as he watched the love of his life reach satisfation. Though, if history served him right, they had much much more to go. He was really getting into it now, biting his lip as he jerked, watching fluid squirting around the gun to make a splash radius on the bed. 

"Oh, fuck me, Marshy." Henry whispered, eyes lidded with arousal. 

Marshall's eyes flashed and he'd unhooked the handcuffs from the bed, flipping Henry over so he was propped up on the pillows. He replaced the gun with his cock in one fluid motion, plunging deep into the warmest, wettest cushion he could ever imagine. He began hammering away and was satisfied with this just like this forever when he saw Henry reaching a hand back to play with the other hole that loomed there, taunting him.

Well, that just wouldn't do. 

 Marshall quickly found the wet gun laying underneath them and with some gentle (read: not gentle) prodding, the gun had found Henry's other hole and he was mercileslly fucking his lover like his life depended on it. "Yeah, you like that?" He grunted, alternating the rhythms on his cock and his gun.

"Fuck!" Was the only thing he heard breathlessly tossed back at him as Henry through his body into the movements. 

"Yeah, who's my good little slut?"

"Me! Me! Oh, fuck me!" 

"Oh, I haven't even begun...."

His voice trailed off as Henry felt the sudden emptiness of his ass and looked back with confusion but found the rhythm again as the cold steel found him anyway, joining the love of his life in the same place!

"Oh my fuck!" Henry cried at the new development, something they'd never tried before and felt the world crash around him as his mind went complete tabula rasa while Marshall grunted and roared in the same breath, warmth filling Henry from deep inside his gut as Henry collapsed on top of him.

After a few moments like this, they both continued to catch their breath. Marshall slowly pulled the two weapons out and fell on the bed next to Henry. The smaller man smiled and rolled a leg up on Marshall's leg, who instinctively placed his hand on his thigh. They lay like this for another few minutes, both breathing heavily. Henry finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe you safeworded when I was describing my fictional death."

"What?! It made me super sad and took me out of the mood!"

"Oh, so you do care?"

Marshall snorted, rolling his head over. "What have I ever done to you that made you think I didn't care?"

Henry gave a subtle side-eye, grinning. "Well, there was that one time in Raleigh-"

Marshall huffed. "Oh for the last time, I didn't know you were still in there! I thought you had walked to the Target next door so I was gonna surprise you with curbside pickup!"

Henry smirked, snuggling close. "You left me in a Chipotle."

Marshall snorted again, giving him a loud smack on the ass. "I didn't leave you anywhere. And I never will." He gave his ass a squeeze, pressing a kiss to Henry's nose.

Henry felt his dark cheeks flush as he rolled over, sliding his already wettening pussy against Marshall's slow reawakening. "Promise?"

Marshall smiled, rubbing his hands up Henry's thighs to position his hard cock in place, already feeding the tip in. They made continued eye contact as Henry sighed pleasurable and Marshall murmured, "I promise."