Continued series: “He Was Already Stroking When I Woke Up”

[Zaneb]

Continued from: Watching my roommate stroke his fat cock through the crack in his door

5: House Rules, “He Was Already Stroking When I Woke Up”


Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

—

After what happened last night, I didn’t know how to act this morning.

We didn’t talk about it. We barely made eye contact. Just moved around each other in the kitchen like none of it had happened.

Like I hadn’t laid there with my ass in the air, begging to be touched.

Like Ty hadn’t spent an hour teasing every inch of my body except the one I needed the most.

We both went to bed late. Or pretended to.
But sometime just before sunrise, I heard him.

His bedroom door creaked open, then clicked shut again. The hallway light was off, but his lamp flicked on low.

I cracked my eyes open.

His door was ajar.

And through the narrow opening, from my bed, I could see him.

He was sitting upright. Shirtless. Mesh shorts pushed halfway down. One hand under the waistband, moving slow and steady.

The other hand braced on his knee like he needed leverage.

It was fucking hypnotic.

The thing about Ty is that he never does anything halfway.

And even from here—still in my own bed, still trying to convince myself to stay put—I could already tell where this was going.

His head dropped back. Chest rising and falling. I saw him exhale through his nose and shift his hips in a slow, rolling grind.

Then his hand came out from under the waistband.

The fabric was soaked at the tip. Dark and glistening.

My cock throbbed instantly. I was already leaking and I hadn’t even touched myself.

I slid my hand under my sheets, just to take the edge off. Just to feel a little relief. But it only made it worse.

Because he looked so good. That big, thick cock barely contained by his shorts. His hairy thighs flexing with every stroke. That little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew I was watching.

I couldn’t help it. I got up.

I padded across the hallway barefoot, silent, breathing shallow.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch.

Just kept stroking and smirking, eyes half-lidded with the kind of pleasure that radiated heat.

I sat down on the edge of his bed, trying not to look like I was trembling. My thigh brushed his. Warm. Solid.

My voice was low. “You always leak like that?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Been like that since high school. Gets worse when I edge.”

“You like edging?”

“I like being watched.”

He tilted his hips up a little, enough to push his shorts lower. The head of his cock was flushed dark pink, shimmering with wet. He swiped his thumb under it and brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact.

He licked his own precum off like it was nothing.

My whole body tensed.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“You wanna taste, don’t you.”

I nodded, breath shaky.

“Do it,” he said. “Just the tip. You’re not allowed to make me cum.”

I leaned in and pressed my lips to the head of his cock. Warm. Leaking. I dragged my tongue across the slit and tasted him.

Sweet. Salty. Fucking addictive.

Ty hissed through his teeth. “Jesus, Mason…”

I pulled back, breath ragged. “You taste insane.”

“You should see how much I leak when I really go for it,” he said, gripping the base and giving it a slow stroke. Another fat drop welled up.

I watched it drip. Watched it smear across his fingers. Watched the way he caught it and brought it to my mouth.

He didn’t even need to say anything. I opened, and sucked his finger clean.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered.

I was throbbing so hard it hurt.

He reached toward my waistband but stopped short. “Take them off. Lay back next to me. We’re not touching each other. Just edge. Side by side.”

I stripped. Climbed into his bed.

We lay shoulder to shoulder, skin brushing. Our hands moved in sync, just inches apart. Every now and then our knuckles would graze and both of us would flinch, but not pull away.

I moaned under my breath. “Fuck… this is torture.”

Ty turned his head and looked at me. His eyes were darker now. Almost feral.

“That’s the point,” he said. “It’s not about cumming. It’s about control. Holding it. Building it. Feeling every second of it.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m leaking so much.”

He smirked. “Yeah? Show me.”

I lifted my hips, let him see. My tip was wet. My abs were streaked.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled. “Don’t stop.”

We stroked slower. Teased ourselves. Edged until our stomachs clenched and our balls ached.

Then pulled back.

Again.

And again.

I turned my head toward him and whispered, “Are we ever gonna cum?”

He laughed softly. “When it means something.”

My eyes fluttered shut. My body was trembling.

And then I felt it.

His hand between my legs. Not touching my cock. Not even close.

Just one slick finger grazing down my inner thigh… slower… lower… until it brushed right over my hole.

My whole body jerked. My breath caught.

The tip of his finger was slick with precum. And he was barely touching me—just a whisper of contact—but it made my whole world narrow to that one spot.

“Fuck,” I gasped.

He didn’t push in. Didn’t tease.

Just traced it once, then pulled back.

His voice was low and rough. “I’ll continue the massage tonight.”

My eyes snapped open. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “But I want you to shower first. Prep.”

My stomach dropped. My cock twitched violently.

He leaned closer. His breath warm against my ear. “I want you ready when I get back from the gym.”

“Ready for what?” I whispered.

He smiled.

Didn’t answer.

Just pulled the sheet over his body, rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes.

Like nothing had happened.

And I laid there next to him, hard and aching and already counting down the hours.

⸻

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[Zaneb]

6: House Rules,Saw My Ex at the Gym. Went Home Rock Hard.


Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

From Ty’s POV

I needed the gym.
Badly.

Mason had barely swallowed a drop and I was already fighting the urge to throw him down and finish what we started. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet.

So I left. Told him to prep. Told myself to focus. Sweat it out, clear my head.

The gym smelled like rubber mats and steel. Grunting. Chalk. Testosterone.
Exactly what I needed. Something loud. Heavy. Physical. Anything to work off the hard-on that had been aching since sunrise.

I started with pull-ups. Back burning, arms shaking. Then squats. Deadlifts. The usual routine. Except today I wasn’t lifting to get strong. I was lifting to forget how soft Mason’s lips felt around the head of my cock. How hot his breath was. How desperate he looked up at me.

I adjusted my waistband for the third time. My shorts were already soaked with pre.

Then I saw him.

Ryan.

Tank top. Cut too low. Hoodie open. Still shredded. Still cocky.
Still Ryan.

He was talking to some guy by the leg press—some ripped twink with a sleeve tattoo and a tongue ring. Ryan’s hand grazed his lower back like it belonged there.

I froze.

He hadn’t seen me yet. But I saw everything. The curve of his smirk. The fake laugh. The casual touch. The same moves he used to pull on me when we were still fucking like animals.

I hated that I noticed.

I turned back to my set, muscles clenched, but I couldn’t block him out. He walked past me on the way to the cable machine and gave me that same smug look I remembered from the night he walked out.
That look that said: You’ll come crawling back.

I didn’t. And I won’t.

But my cock didn’t get the message. I was hard—again. Stiff as hell. Dripping through my compression shorts.
Not for him.
For Mason.

Because Mason doesn’t play games.
Mason opens his mouth and looks up like he means it.
Like he wants me to lose control.

I grabbed my phone and typed:

“Be ready. Don’t cum. I’ll be there in 20.”

No emoji. No explanation.

I slammed through two more sets, showered quick, didn’t even change into clean underwear. I needed to feel the weight of my cock rubbing raw against the fabric. Needed the reminder of what I was holding back.

The ride home was a blur. My hands on the wheel. My mind on his mouth.

When I got in, the apartment was quiet.

Mason’s door was open.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed. Damp hair. Fresh skin. Just a towel around his waist.
He looked up at me like he already knew.

I dropped my gym bag.

Let the silence stretch.

Then I said:
“On your stomach. Face down. I’m not done with you yet.”

⸻

To be continued…

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[Zaneb]

7: House Rules, I Didn’t Know Fingers Could Do That


Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

⸻

Ty came home from the gym just before sunset.

I was already in position—freshly showered, towel-dried, lying face-down on the bed. No boxers. Just skin. I’d oiled myself lightly like he told me to, my thighs and glutes still dewy. The air was thick with lavender from the diffuser, but I could feel my own heat radiating through it. My heart beat louder than the playlist humming through the speaker. My cock pressed into the sheets, already leaking.

When the door clicked open, I didn’t turn. I just listened. Gym bag hitting the floor. Water bottle on the desk. The soft creak of his body stretching out its soreness.

Then his hand—wide, calloused, warm—landed on my lower back. No words. No greetings. Just that.

He dragged his palm over the curve of my ass, spreading oil across the same muscles he’d worked the night before. His hands knew their way now. He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. His thumbs dipped into the crease of my thighs, the heat of him sinking deeper with every motion.

Then I felt it.

Not oil.

Thicker. Warmer.

He used his own precum.

He’d done it the first time too—I hadn’t been sure. But now, I could smell it. Musk and salt and something feral. He must’ve been hard since the gym. My body tensed at the thought: Ty, sweaty and swollen, leaking in his shorts on the drive home, just to finger me with it.

He collected more. I heard it—the slick sound of his cock in hand, the guttural exhale as he smeared fresh fluid down my crack. His fingers spread me open, slow, reverent, like he was studying something sacred.

His fingertip circled my rim. Over and over. Feather-light at first. Then firmer. My toes curled. I arched into the air, silently begging.

He didn’t answer.

Just pressed in.

A whisper of pressure. Then retreat.

Then again.

This time deeper.

I exhaled into the sheets, jaw slack, the stretch sharp at first, then glowing. He stayed there for a moment—just one finger, buried, pulsing with my breath.

Then he moved.

Just a curl. A subtle shift.

And everything inside me lit up.

“Oh—fuck,” I gasped. My voice sounded wrecked.

He said nothing.

Just kept curling. Slow. Unhurried. Like he had all night.

The pad of his finger brushed my prostate again. Then again. A lazy, rhythmic massage. I whimpered into the pillow, hips twitching. I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. My whole body pulsed around that single point of contact.

He reached between my legs with his other hand, cupping my balls, tugging them gently down. My cock flexed, helpless. Still no stroking. Just that torturous pressure from within.

And more precum. So much.

He kept dripping it onto me, smearing it across my hole, letting it run down to my taint where his thumb rubbed slow circles. I was soaked in him. Inside and out.

My brain stopped working.

All I could do was feel.

Each stroke over my prostate made my thighs tremble. I could feel the ache building, unbearable and perfect. My skin was buzzing. My cock leaked out steady drops, untouched, throbbing against the bed.

And then—he flipped me.

Strong hands gripped my waist and rolled me onto my back. I blinked up at him, dizzy. His finger never left me. He kept it buried inside, the movement never stopping. My legs spread open without thinking, knees falling wide apart.

I was completely exposed.

My cock slapped against my stomach, glistening with precum. My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

Ty climbed over me, eyes dark and locked on mine. He leaned down and took my left nipple into his mouth.

I cried out.

Not loud—just a choked, broken sound, like I’d been holding my breath for years. His tongue flicked, sucked, circled. And that finger—God—that finger never stopped working inside me. The pressure curled, deep and delicious. My body arched under him, chasing more.

Then he switched nipples, his free hand still rubbing slick circles over my taint, pressing into that spot behind my balls that made me jerk like a live wire.

Everything burned.

Not in pain—in need. I was shaking from how good it felt. My hole clenched with every wave of sensation. His mouth, his finger, his thumb—it was like my whole body had turned into one raw, pulsing nerve.

I wanted to beg.

I wanted to cum.

But he didn’t let me.

He licked my nipple again, slower this time, and his voice came low against my chest.

“You’re going to stay right here,” he murmured. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

Then one last curl of his finger—deeper, firmer.

My whole body jerked.

I moaned, desperate.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t let me cum.

Just held me there, trembling, cock twitching, chest flushed, his finger still deep inside me like it belonged there.

⸻

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episode 8 to 10 are already up on my Patreon , and season 2 is starting next week.

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[Infamous Hacker]

So fucking hot! I'm leaking precum like crazy reading this!

 

[Zaneb]

So fucking hot! I'm leaking precum like crazy reading this!

Glad you like it and that you are leaking

 

[Zaneb]

8: House Rules, I Fed Him My Precum While He Tried to Suck Himself


From Ty’s POV
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.

⸻

I should’ve stopped.

I should’ve told him to roll over and sleep. That we’d gone far enough. That edging like this—night after night—was starting to wear down the thin line I’d drawn between teasing and taking.

Because the truth is, if I fuck him, it’s over.
Not just the sex—we’d survive that.
But I won’t be able to go back.
He won’t be just my roommate anymore.
He’ll be mine.

And that terrifies me more than anything—
Because Mason isn’t like the others.
He looks at me like I’m something worth unraveling.
And I know myself.
I fall fast, and I fall all the way.
And when it ends—and it always ends—I’m the one left crawling out of it, gutted.
So if I slide into him, even once, I’m done for.
He’ll own me.
And I don’t know if I’d survive losing him.

But Mason was on his back, slick and soft and open beneath me, eyes glassy and lips parted, his knees pulled all the way back past his chest.

And I’d never seen anything so goddamn obscene.

His cock twitched against his belly, shiny at the tip. My finger was still inside him, slowly pulsing against his prostate. I could feel him flutter around me every time I pressed in just right. Every time my thumb circled lower, dragging over the base of his balls, the way he trembled—like his body didn’t know whether to tense or melt—made my own cock jerk so hard it slapped my thigh.

I was leaking like mad. The head was glazed, precum dribbling constantly, running slick down my shaft.

And Mason just looked up at me like I was his god.

“Hold still,” I murmured, gripping under his thighs. He folded beautifully, effortlessly—so damn flexible. His ankles hovered near his ears. His hole was glistening. His abs trembled with each breath. And then—Jesus Christ—he curled in, tongue flicking out, and touched the tip of his own cock to his mouth.

I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re not real,” I said under my breath. “You can’t be.”

He smiled, slow and filthy, and did it again—just a taste. That image burned itself into me, into every nerve in my body. I felt my control fracture at the edges. I stroked myself once, twice. More precum spilled, and my hand was wet with it before I even reached down.

“Open your mouth.”

Mason obeyed immediately, still bent in half, panting.

I ran my slick fingers over his lips, coating them, then pushed two into his mouth. He moaned. Eyes rolled back. Sucked my fingers like they were something sacred.

“You want it so bad,” I whispered. “You’ll taste it from my fingers before I even give you the real thing.”

He nodded, desperate, trying to rock back on my finger still buried inside him.

I let it slide out, teasing his rim with the tip. Then dragged it down over his taint again. Slippery. Warm. I worked him there with my middle knuckle while my other hand slid up along his ribs, palm brushing lightly over the curve of his waist.

He curled again—flexing, showing off—trying to take himself into his mouth. Couldn’t quite get more than the tip, but fuck, just seeing him try nearly made me lose it.

“You’re gonna make me cum just from watching you,” I growled.

He looked at me from under his lashes. “So let go.”

“No.”

I leaned down. Let my tongue drag up his shin, across his inner thigh, to the spot where thigh met hip. I kissed him there—hard—and again on the opposite side. My nose skimmed the base of his cock. I didn’t suck. Not yet.

“You think I’m just gonna give it to you now?” I said. “After everything?”

Mason whimpered. The kind of sound that sounded like please, but also like more. The kind of sound that made my balls ache and my chest feel too tight.

I sat back on my knees and wrapped one hand around my shaft. More precum. So much. I caught some with my thumb, rubbed it across his nipples, then his lips again.

“Say thank you,” I said.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice ragged. “Please—Ty—just a little bit more.”

I should’ve stopped. But I didn’t.

I bent him again. Pressed one finger back inside. Slick, tight, pulsing heat. His hole opened for me like it was begging.

“You’re perfect like this,” I murmured. “Bent for me. Leaking. Mouth open. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

He nodded. “I know. I want to.”

I pushed deeper. Slower. My thumb rubbed his taint in rhythm with the strokes inside.

He was leaking now too. A string of precum trailed from his cock down his abs. His muscles quivered. His whole body was pink and glistening.

I hovered over his mouth—close enough to feel his breath hitch—but I didn’t kiss him. Not yet. I couldn’t.
My cock rubbed along his inner thigh, twitching, aching to slide in, but I held the line.

I pulled my finger free, wiped it slowly over his lips one last time.

“You want my cock?” I asked.

His breath caught. “Yes.”

“You want me inside?”

He nodded, eyes wide, neck arched. “Please.”

I kissed his temple. “Not tonight.”

He let out a strangled sound—frustration, hunger, need—but didn’t resist when I pulled him into me, onto his side, spooned behind him. My cock pressed against the cleft of his ass. Hot. Heavy. Twitching.

But I didn’t thrust. I didn’t slide in. I just held him.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered. “Maybe.”

I slipped my fingers between his legs again and started to work him all over.

“Let’s see if I can get you begging louder first.”

⸻

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episode 9 and 10 are already up on my Patreon , and season 2 is starting next week.

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[Zaneb]

House Rules: Episode 9: He Watched Me Get Hard While His Friend Flirted With Me



Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
From Mason’s POV

⸻

I spent most of the morning pacing the apartment like a caged animal. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t jerk off. Not with him in the next room.

Not after last night.

The way he touched me—finger deep inside me, massaging my prostate while I writhed on my back—had my whole body singing for more. But he stopped. Like always. Right when I was about to break apart for him.

I still hadn’t come.

I’d woken up aching. Boned up and sweaty, dick leaking and clenched so hard I thought I’d pop just brushing my teeth. But Ty? Ty had just gone back to normal. Calm. Casual. Like he hadn’t had his finger knuckle-deep in my ass six hours ago.

He was out in the garden now. Shirtless. Beer in hand.

And he wasn’t alone.

Aaron was here—his friend from uni, I think. I’d heard the laugh before I saw him. Louder than Ty. Funnier. A little older. More… practiced. Like someone who always knows the effect he has on people.

Especially guys like me.

⸻

“Damn, Ty,” Aaron said, when I stepped outside. “You didn’t tell me your roommate was hot.”

I felt Ty’s eyes on me. But he didn’t say anything.

Aaron scooted over on the outdoor bench to make room. Shirtless. Toned. Comfortable in his skin. I sat, unsure, sipping iced coffee while the two of them caught up.

They talked about random shit—mutual friends, a bad date Aaron went on, some guy from the gym—and then Ryan came up.

Ty tensed. Just slightly.

Aaron smirked. “Still can’t believe that idiot walked away. I told you—guys like that never stick around.”

Ty didn’t reply. He just took a long drink from his beer, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

Something inside me shifted. I’d been so wrapped up in my own frustration, I hadn’t seen it. The way he hesitated. The way he held back, like he was gripping something dangerous inside himself. Something that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

⸻

Aaron turned back to me. “So, Mason. You single?”

I blinked. “Uh… yeah.”

Ty’s hand tightened around his bottle.

“You shouldn’t be,” Aaron said, grinning. “You’ve got that sweet-boy-with-a-secret look. Drives guys crazy. Drives me crazy.”

He was leaning in now. Leg brushing mine. I laughed it off, but part of me liked it—liked the way Ty kept glancing over with his jaw tight.

Aaron’s leg stayed there—pressed casually against mine like we were on a date. He angled his body toward me, broad shoulders turning, full attention locked in.

“I mean, look at you,” he said, voice just low enough to make it feel intimate. “Tank top, those thighs, that jawline. If Ty hasn’t made a move, he’s either blind or a better man than me.”

He reached out, trailing his fingers across my chest—light, testing. “You shave? Or just smooth like this naturally?”

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I didn’t pull away.

He laughed. “Shit. You’re dangerous. Bet you don’t even know what you do to people.”

His hand drifted down over my stomach. Stopped just at the waistband of my shorts.

Ty made a sharp noise in his throat—somewhere between a scoff and a warning—but didn’t speak.

Aaron smirked and glanced over his shoulder at him. “Relax, Ty. I’m just admiring the roommate. Not like you’re doing anything about it.”

Then he looked back at me, leaning closer, so close I could smell the sharp citrus of his aftershave. “You ever been rimmed in the garden before?” he whispered.

My heart thudded in my chest. My cock twitched in my shorts.

Aaron’s hand pressed lightly over my crotch, just enough to let me feel the pressure of it—then lifted like nothing happened. A tease. A claim. A dare.

I didn’t look at Ty. I didn’t have to. I could feel the storm rolling off him in waves.

Aaron finally sat back and grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “If I were living here, you’d be walking funny every day.”

⸻

When Aaron left an hour later, he clapped Ty on the back and gave me a wink.

“Take care of that one,” he said. “Or I might steal him.”

Ty didn’t say a word.

Just watched him go.

He didn’t go back inside.

He stood there for a second, arms folded, then slowly lowered himself into the chair across from me again. His beer was still sweating on the table. He didn’t touch it.

The silence stretched.

Then, finally, he said, “You like that kind of attention?”

I turned to look at him. “From Aaron?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but his foot tapped against the deck. “He’s your type, right? Bit older. Confident. Knows what he’s doing.”

“He was being a flirt,” I said. “That’s not a type.”

Ty’s eyes were fixed on the far side of the garden, where Aaron had disappeared. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I didn’t mind the attention,” I said truthfully. “But it didn’t do to me what you do.”

Ty looked over then. Fully. Eyes burning.

“Really?” he said, voice quieter.

“You already know that,” I said, holding his gaze. “I’ve been walking around for weeks hard as hell because of you. He touched my leg and yeah, it felt good—but it didn’t wreck me like a look from you does.”

Ty exhaled, jaw twitching.

“I shouldn’t have invited him over,” he said finally. “Didn’t think it’d bother me. Thought I could watch it and not…”

“Not what?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Not want to drag you inside and make sure no one else ever touches you like that again.”

My heart stuttered.

“Then why didn’t you?” I asked.

He hesitated. “Because if I start… I don’t know if I can stop.”

⸻

The light was turning golden. I stayed on the garden bench, bare legs stretched out, thighs still tingling from Aaron’s casual touches.

Ty sat across from me. Silent.

I looked at him.

“Why do you keep stopping?” I asked. “Every time we get close. You pull away.”

He exhaled. A slow, heavy breath.

“Because if I don’t stop,” he said, “I won’t be able to.”

My chest tightened.

The silence between us stretched.

Then Ty stood. Walked over slowly, deliberately. His body lit gold by the fading sun.

He dropped to one knee in front of me. Rested both hands on my thighs. His palms were hot. Heavy. Possessive.

“You think I’m teasing you. Playing games. I’m not. I’ve wanted you since the first week I moved in.” His voice was rough silk. “But this—what I want from you—it’s not just fooling around. If I fuck you, it’s not gonna be casual. I won’t want to stop. I won’t be able to stop.”

I was trembling under his hands.

“I need to know that you’re ready for that.”

My breath caught. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or relief or just raw need bursting out of my chest. I stood. Climbed into his lap, straddling him on the bench, knees on either side of his hips.

“I’ve been ready,” I whispered.

His hands moved to my waist, gripping hard. I could feel how much he was holding back—his fingers trembling, jaw clenched. Then one hand slid up my back. Under my shirt. Slowly. Exploring.

My head fell forward against his shoulder as he stroked my spine. Every nerve lit up. He kissed just under my ear. Not my lips—still not my lips—but everything else.

My shirt came off. His came off. Skin pressed to skin.

His thumbs brushed my nipples. I gasped.

“You feel this?” he whispered. “How bad I want you?”

I nodded, rocking against him. Our cocks grinding through fabric. Wet spots forming.

He shifted beneath me, one hand sliding down to cup my ass. He squeezed—hard—then stroked between the cheeks, just enough to remind me what he’d done the night before. My body jolted.

I whimpered.

“You want more?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”

He kissed my jaw. My throat. Not my lips—never there. Not yet.

His hands slid up under my T-shirt, fingers grazing my ribs, my back. He tugged it off slowly, like he needed to feel every inch of skin as it was revealed. I pulled at his too. Tossed it aside.

Then his hands were on my ass, squeezing, lifting, grinding me down against him. I moaned into his shoulder.

“I can feel how desperate you are,” he murmured.

“Then do something about it.”

He slid one hand between us. Not to touch my cock—but to press, slow and deep, against my stomach. My waistband dipped. I gasped.

“Not out here,” he said.

He stood. Just like that. Lifted me into his arms, holding me close, my legs around his waist.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, panting.

“What does this mean?” I asked, trembling.

Ty looked me dead in the eyes.

“That you’re mine now.”

He carried me inside.

And slammed the door behind us.

⸻

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Episode 10 and season 2 episode 1 and 2 are already up on my Patreon

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[Zaneb]

House Rules - Episode 10: I Told Him I Wanted It. He Used Every Drop of His Precum to Give It to Me

Season Finale!

Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
From Mason’s POV

⸻

I didn’t care if it changed everything.
I wanted it to.

“Ty,” I said, voice shaking. “I want you. All of you.”

He froze, chest rising slow. The room was still. Our breaths the only sound between us.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice stripped bare.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Something shifted in his face—something raw and quiet, like hunger finally allowed to come to the surface.

He stepped toward me, hands sliding under my tank, lifting it over my head. Then his mouth was on my neck. My collarbone. My chest. His stubble scraped. His tongue soothed. His breath warmed every inch of me.

His cock was already thick and leaking. My mouth watered.

But I didn’t go for it. Not right away.

⸻

I dropped to my knees and teased him.

I kissed up his thigh, slowly, licking the inside where the skin was soft and sensitive. I let my breath fan across his balls, then trailed my tongue along the base of his shaft, just missing the head.

He shuddered.

I kissed his hip, his abs, the line just above his cock, then pressed soft kisses behind his balls, dragging my tongue over his taint. I could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his legs quivered under my mouth.

“Fuck, Mase…” he muttered, hand tightening in my hair. “Don’t play.”

I looked up at him and smiled. Then finally—finally—I took him in my mouth.

The first taste of his precum hit my tongue like liquid sex—salty, hot, thick. I moaned instantly. He gasped hard, hips jerking.

“Jesus—fuck—” he groaned.

I swirled my tongue under the head, letting the crown drag over my palate as I pushed down deeper. His cock throbbed in my throat. My hand gripped the base, slick with spit, stroking slow to match the rhythm.

“You love this, huh?” he growled, voice raw, breath catching.

I moaned again around him. The vibration made him twitch. He bucked slightly, lost control, his abs tensing, and groaned louder this time.

His hands gripped the back of my head—not forceful, just desperate.

“God, your mouth—fuck—I can’t…”

He swore again, legs trembling. His precum poured, thick and steady, and I swallowed greedily. He tilted his head back and let out this deep, broken sound that told me everything I needed to know.

Then he pulled me up, mouth crashing to mine.

“My turn.”

⸻

He pushed me onto the bed, spread my legs wide, and devoured me.

The first lick was slow and hot. His tongue pressed firmly into my rim, circling, tasting, claiming. Then he dove in—fucking me with his mouth, sloppy and intense, moaning into my skin like he was addicted to the taste.

I couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

“Fuck, Ty—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop.”

He gripped my thighs, keeping me wide open, and slid a finger in. Slow. Careful. Slippery. Then he added more spit, more of his precum, dragging it from his cock and rubbing it into me. Slick. Wet. Filthy.

He kept licking while fingering me. Twisting, stretching, pressing up. When he found my prostate, I yelped. My cock jumped. I nearly came on the spot.

Then he kissed his way up my stomach, still finger-fucking me, and latched onto my nipple—sucking hard while rubbing slow, tight circles over my taint with the heel of his other hand.

And then he hit deeper.

That second spot. The bend. The place past the prostate that felt like something cracked open inside me.

“Holy shit—oh my god—Ty—I—”

My whole body jerked. I came—but not really. Just a shockwave. A dry orgasm that made my stomach curl and my eyes roll back.

Then another. Sharper. Quicker. My toes curled.

He kept fingering me. Kept licking. Kept whispering: “You’re gonna take me so well.”

⸻

He knelt between my legs, precum dripping from his cock like it had been building for hours. It glistened on the head, rolled down the shaft, and he let it spill directly onto my hole.

“Use what you’ve got,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything. Just rubbed the slick into me and pressed in with the head.

The stretch made me gasp. My hole fluttered. My body tried to push back.

“You can take it,” he whispered.

He pushed deeper. Thick. Full. So fucking big I thought I’d split.

When he bottomed out, I went still. Couldn’t speak. Could only feel—how wide he stretched me, how deep he filled me, how hot he was inside me.

Then he started to move.

⸻

He began slow—deep, dragging thrusts that scraped over every nerve ending. My hole clenched. My cock leaked freely. His hands gripped my hips hard, holding me in place.

“You feel this?” he growled.

I nodded, mouth open.

“Say it.”

“You’re so deep—so fucking deep—Ty, I can’t—”

Then he pushed deeper—just a little—and hit it. That second bend. The one that made my whole body light up.

“FUCK—” I gasped. “You’re—oh my god—you’re there—Ty—”

I broke.

A dry orgasm tore through me—violent, full-body. My legs kicked. My spine arched off the bed. I babbled nonsense, words spilling from my mouth without meaning.

“Oh god—oh fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t you dare—”

I was shaking. Trembling. Coming without cum. My hole clenched around him like it didn’t want to let go.

He held me tight, breathing ragged into my ear, still grinding against that spot, keeping me on the edge of ruin.

⸻

His thrusts grew ragged. Animalistic. He used me. Gripped me. Bit my collarbone. Fucked me like he couldn’t stop. Our bodies slapped together, sweat soaking the sheets.

He was moaning. I was begging. The room filled with desperate, wet sounds.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Now.”

I grabbed my cock. It was soaked in precum. One stroke and I was close.

“Ty—I’m gonna—”

“Wait,” he gasped. “Together.”

He slammed in again. Hit my prostate. My whole body locked.

“Now,” he growled.

And we both let go.

I came hard—with him—my cock erupting in thick ropes across my chest as he cried out and spilled inside me. His cock throbbed deep, buried to the hilt. His arms locked around me. We groaned into each other’s mouths, shaking, wrecked.

It was a detonation.

Not just physical. Everything.

We stayed connected—still pulsing. Still twitching.

Then, silence.

His breath on my neck. His cum leaking out of me. My own cooling on my stomach.

He kissed me. Slowly. Like a promise. Like goodbye.

We slept like that. Tangled. Exhausted. Undone.

⸻

The Morning After

I woke up sore. Fuzzy. Dripping.

Ty stood by the closet, half-dressed, suitcase open. Buttoning a shirt.

I blinked. “What’re you doing?”

He looked over, then back down. “Packing.”

“What?”

He exhaled. “I leave for Bangkok tonight. Forgot to tell you—it’s a work thing. Two weeks.”

I sat up. The ache between my legs reminded me how deep he’d been inside me hours ago.

“Oh,” I said.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Look, last night…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was everything. But maybe it’s a good thing I’m going.”

I frowned. “What?”

He turned to me. “We’ve been on this ride—wanting, waiting, teasing. Then we finally let go. And now it’s… a lot. Maybe the space is good. For both of us.”

“You don’t want this?”

“I do,” he said, firm. “But I don’t want it just because the sex was insane. I want it real. And I think we both need a second to figure out what that means.”

I nodded slowly. “So… we pause.”

He touched my jaw. “We pause.”

“And when you come back?”

“We see where we stand. What we want.”

I leaned in. Kissed him soft. “Just don’t fall for some Bangkok bar boy while you’re gone.”

He smirked. “Only if you promise not to suck off your barista while I’m away.”

I grinned.

“Deal.”

⸻

Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you like

season 2 episode 1, 2 and 3 are already up on my Patreon

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