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Chris was used to being the biggest guy in the room. It was like that since he became Captain America - his workout regime, as well as his natural height, was a huge benefactor into his newly attained "hunk" status. The downside to the bouncing pecs and rock solid arms, however, was the fact that he no longer was able to blend in. Sure, he could go incognito - it WAS Hollywood, after all - but it just meant that eventually, he'd get caught out.
Tonight, though, he was praying he wouldn't get spotted. It had been a rough week in Atlanta filming the next Avengers movie, with egos and stunts flying high. He flew back to LA for some peace and quiet whilst he had some downtime, which is why he was trying his hardest to stay as low-key as possible in the somewhat subdued gay bar he was sipping an ice cold beer in.
He didn't do this often, especially as his publicist would kill him if she knew he was hanging out in gay bars when the rumour mill was going into overtime with bisexuality rumours. Not that Chris was ashamed of his bisexuality - in fact, he was quite proud of it - but the "wholesome", all-American image his team had cultivated didn't need his "being honest with himself" right now. Chris hated keeping his true self from his fans. It was bad enough that bisexual peoples got a huge amount of flack from both sides of the sexuality spectrum, but to not be able to be himself...?
He was frustrated, not just with his secrecy. He hadn't had sex in well over a year, and that pent up frustration was making him irritable. It didn't matter how many times he worked at his (fairly impressive) dick, it wasn't scratching the itch he was burning to relieve himself of.
Was it any wonder he was drinking? But, with his navy blue cap lowered as he drank, it didn't really hit him when someone slide up next to him at the bar. It was only when the sliver of a thick, muscular forearm made its presence known in the corner of his left eye did he realise he wasn't alone, and that he also wasn't the biggest guy in the room any more.
"What you drinking there, bud?" came a smooth drawl. Not quite southern but not quite coastal, the voice was warm and husky, yet cool and collected. Chris begged the universe not to let the goose pimples on his arm show too obviously - after all, sometimes all it took was a slightly southern twang to get the native Bostonian's blood racing and heart thumping.
"Sam Adams," he replied, swallowing thickly. He raised his head and turned it slightly to get an idea of the man sitting next to him, only to stop dead in his tracks when he noticed long, mane-like hair, a bushy beard, and sparklingly mischievous eyes.
"East Coast boy, eh? Nice. I'm a SoCal guy myself. The name's Brock," the drawl said. Chris could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end - there was something about that drawl that had gotten his pulse racing, and now that he took in more of the other man's details, he could feel a stirring.
His hair, long and slightly unkempt, was lightly sun kissed despite being brunet, and had the same sort of regal appeal that a lion's mane does. His beard was bushy and large yet still groomed, and put Chris' own beard to shame (when he had it, that is, as he was currently clean shaven for Avengers). He was massive, too - broad, broad shoulders were accompanied by bulging biceps, whilst the newcomer's voluptuous pecs were squeezed into the man's tight black v-neck tshirt, like two mounds of perfectly cut marble being contained in plastic wrap. He was like an Adonis, all muscular and thick and strong.
Trying his hardest to contain his creeping erection, Chris nodded and smirked. "Yeah, well, you can take the boy out of Boston..." he said, trailing off as his eyes met the man's. Fierce, wild, and lively hazel green eyes met his own baby blues, and Chris could feel his face turn bright red with a blush. The muscular barmate smirked and nodded.
"Yeah, I get you, Chris. Hard to beat some hometown comforts, eh?" he said, and Chris' eyes widened and he snapped his head around. Thankfully, nobody was circling the bar - a drag queen had just begun her act, and so all eyes were on her. As LeAnn Rhimes' Can't Fight the Moonlight came on as the drag queen began lip syncing, Chris lowered his head slowly.
"Guess I wasn't so inconspicuous as I had thought," he murmured. He could feel his companion's weight shift slightly closer, and he could feel the man's body heat on his own.
"Nah, you're good. I only knew because I've stared at that wide back, those sweet biceps, and that tight ass on my movie screens for as long as I possibly could," Brock said, smirking as he saw the back of Chris' neck and his ears turn bright red.
Chris wasn't sure if this guy was fucking with him or not. He seemed genuine enough, but he wasn't often in the habit of getting chatted up by other guys in gay bars. He typically tried to be the more dominant person in these sort of interactions, but for some reason, the man's intimidating size had flipped a switch in Chris' head that he wasn't entirely annoyed about.
Chris was jolted out of his thoughts rather swiftly by Brock's large hand clasping him on the back. "So, Chris, what brings you here tonight, hm?", he drawled. Chris swallowed. He could feel Brock's hand roam down his back, and slip into the waistband of his jeans. "Just a drink...?," Brock whispered. "Or are you here for something a little...stronger?"
Chris jumped as Brock punctuated the end of his question as a slightly calloused hand took a hold of one of Chris' round, delicious butt cheeks. He could feel a large finger find its way to his hole, gently brushing against it, and before he knew it, he felt a moan escape his lips. To his left, he could practically feel the smirk radiating from Brock's direction.
Chris turned his head to Brock and, breathlessly, managed to get a single word out. He didn't even have to think about it.
"Stronger."
---
Getting back to Chris' Beverly Hills home was a flurry of car doors opening and Uber drivers being rated five for being understanding about the heavy handedness in the back seat. Chris' lips were already raw from Brock's intense kissing, which was nothing but passion and tongue and the tickle of a beard. Brock's hands had spent the fifteen minute journey roaming what felt like every inch of Chris' body, whilst all Chris could do was grip onto the back of the lion maned man's black t-shirt, gasping and moaning.
After fumbling with the door keys, the two men stepped into the airy lightness of Chris' home. Fairly modern with home-y touches, it was bright enough for the men to finally take in their prizes for the evening.
Chris examined Brock more closely, and couldn't believe his eyes. 6'7" of muscular hunk stood before him, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. The black t-shirt, despite being Chris' lifeline in the car, continued to hug the other man's body, and Chris stood in awe of the man's statuesque height. His arms looked even larger in the light, and he could see the very, very visible bulge in the man's straight-legged jeans, feeling his knees buckle ever so slightly as he stared.
Brock, similarly, couldn't help but lick his lips as he took in Chris. His large chest was heaving with lust, and the man's tight jeans did wonders for his equally as tight and round bubble butt. He had to make this beautiful creature his. He had to claim him for his own.
"Enough staring. Where's the bedroom?" Brock growled, and Chris' eyes lowered hazily with the deep tone of the man's voice. He grabbed Brock's large hands and led him up the stairs, towards the end of the hall. He opened the door, and suddenly felt himself shoved onto the large king sized bed, the sound of a door closing behind him.
He propped himself up onto his elbows, looking at Brock. The hulking man had already torn off his tight tee, and was already unbuckling his cowboy-style belt. He was panting, but that devilish smirk still stood.
"C'mon, baby. Don't you wanna take off that pretty little shirt?" came the drawl. Chris felt his stomach flutter, and he sat up onto his knees, peeling off the tight white tee. The cool air of the air conditioned room hit his chest, perking up his nipples almost instantly. He placed a hand on his own belt buckle, but before his hand even undid the latch, he was pushed back into the pillows, strong lips and a ticklish beard crashing into his own bow-shaped lips. He couldn't help it when he moaned into the kiss - there was something about being dominated by this behemoth of a man that made Chris want to cry out in moans and groans.
Brock broke the kiss, brushing his long hair around the back of his neck. His large, vascular biceps surrounded Chris' head, and were almost the same size as the blonde's face, enveloping Chris in the man's size and his intoxicating scent. Suddenly, he felt another hand undoing his belt, and before he knew it, his jeans were cast aside onto the floor, leaving him exposed to this ravenous hunk.
"Tell me, baby. You always wear a jock strap for a casual drink to the bar?" Brock asked, and Chris flushed - he hadn't put in his usual boxer briefs that night, slipping instead into a skimpy, ass-framing jock strap. He couldn't remember his exact reasoning in that moment, but he was dangerously close to forgetting his own name thanks to this utter specimen of a man.
"No, sir, I don't. But I'm sure as shit glad I did tonight," Chris breathed back, and Brock chuckled deeply, sending a shiver of sheer lust through Chris' body.
"Language, young man... unless you want me to punish you?" he said smoothly, and Chris couldn't help but smirk back at the other man."
"What does a Brock punishment look like?" he breathed again, his voice full of the lust the Californian man instilled in him.
"Let me show you," he replied, suddenly grappling Chris' body and flipping him around, so that he was no longer on his back but instead on his hands and knees.
Chris breathed deeply. He was sure that Brock wouldn't punish him with something as difficult as going in dry, or taking him completely over the edge. His mind raced with everything that could be done to him - was he going to get spanked? Smacked? Fingered? Fisted? What could this sexual beast have in store for him, he wondered, until out of nowhere, he felt the warm embrace of something wet attack his tight, pink hole.
Then, came the sensation of ticklish hair along his crack, accompanying the large, expert tongue as it made love to his boyhole. Chris' cock strained inside his jock strap as Brock rimmed him, sending shivers through his entire body as the man probed deeper and deeper into him with his tongue.
"Oh, God...!" Chris moaned as Brock made easy work of the man's hole. For Brock, it was the best thing he had tasted all evening - the tightness and cleanliness of Chris' hole had meant he was tasted the most intimate parts of Chris, which drove him into a frenzy, resulting in a relentless assault on Chris' hole with his tongue.
Brock lifted his mouth from the action star's hole, taking his finger and teasing it gently. "You liked that, huh, baby? Did big and strong Cap like my work?" he teased as Chris flexed his rear closer to his fingers, rubbing against them for more friction.
"Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah I did, daddy," Chris breathed before he even knew what he was saying, his face, neck and ears going scarlet. He could feel Brock pause for a moment, and he was instantly struck with fear that he had just ruined the most intense sexual experience he had ever had when suddenly he felt Brock's warm lips and tongue assault his hole more vigorously than before, this time feeling the tanned man's nose practically enter him as Brock used every muscle in his mouth to go deeper and deeper into Chris' hole.
Chris couldn't help but moan as his cock leaked precum whilst Brock rimmed him. Surely the most insane sensation he had felt in years, he could feel something flutter in his stomach as the man made love to his rear, his jockstrap now soaked with precum.
"Oh god, Brock, oh god. I'm gonna, I think I'm gonna..." - but he was cut off almost as quickly as he began, Brock ceasing his magical work on Chris' hole.
"W-why'd you st-stop?" Chris whined, as Brock used two of his fingers to keep him open.
"Can't have daddy's boy cumming just yet. I haven't even begun the fun part," he teased, easing a third finger into Chris' hole. The blonde moaned as he pushed back on the fingers, urging the taller man to work him more and more, stretching him out and prepping him for what was to come.
"Do you think you're ready, baby boy? Hm? You ready for my big cock? Cos he's been ready for you since the bar. He's been dying to meet you," Brock said as he flipped Chris onto his back, removing and reinserting his fingers as he spoke.
Chris was a mess. Sweat dropped down his forehead, his heaving, voluptuous pecs moving as he breathlessly panted, his jockstrap straining against his cock, which was ready to burst at any moment. All he could do was nod dumbly.
"C'mon, baby. Tell me. You want this, huh?" Brock teased, grasping his large, nine, potentially ten, inch cock in his oversized hand. His hand was dwarfed by his dick, sending a shiver of utterly uncontrollable passion through Chris' body.
"Y...Yes..." he responded, and Brock removed his fingers from his hole, tutting.
"Yes what, baby?" Brock responded, slapping his rock hard cock against Chris' hole, teasing it. His tanned muscles heaved with his own passion, and he smirked as he saw Chris swallow thickly again, just like he did at the bar.
"Yes...daddy..." he whimpered, and with that, cried out in sheer joy as he felt Brock start to push his enlarged member into his writhing, tender body.
"Fuck, baby. So tight. So good. So beautiful," Brock whispered, leaning down to Chris, wrapping his large arms around the slightly smaller man, kissing him as he pushed his cock into the movie star. Chris moaned and whimpered into the kiss, feeling the man fill his hole more and more. He kept thinking it was almost fully in, but each inch came and came, making him arch his back in sheer ecstasy.
Brock, meanwhile, was in heaven. The blonde's tight hole was gripping onto his impressive cock with an ecstatic euphoria, sending waves of pleasure through his body as he finally sheathed himself fully into Chris, his gently trimmed base tickled by the other man's round, firm ass cheeks.
Chris was in utter joy. He could barely remember where he was, as his brain switched into nothing but lust. Brock's cock was so deep inside him, he was sure that he could feel the larger man's member in his stomach. He wanted more - more friction, more filling, more everything. So he said the only thing he possibly could in that moment.
"Fuck me, Brock. Fuck me."
Brock growled. "Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck yeah I will."
And so Brock began his greatest feat yet, as he pounded Chris' hole relentlessly, the blond moaning in sheer euphoria as the larger man worked his hole. He wrangled his own cock from its confines in his jock strap, but before he could even touch his throbbing member, he found himself gripping onto Brock's back, digging his nails deep as his legs wrapped around his waist, Brock's arms pulling him closer to him, pushing the man's cock as deep as it could go in to him.
"Oh fuck, daddy, fuck me! Fuck me harder! Oh my god, so deep. S-so g-good!" Chris cried, feeling his cock build pressure and tension.
Brock grunted and growled as he fucked Chris, he himself feeling something stirring. "Oh god baby, fuck. You're so fucking tight for me, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good whenever you want baby, fucking fill you up with me however often you want. Gonna fucking make you mine, you filthy little slut. Fucking hell, fuck!"
Chris cried out. Brock's deep, grunting dirty talk sent him into a frenzy, and he came with a powerful force all over his chest and face, covered his headboard with the sticky substance. As he came, he tightened his hole, and Brock came with one final, powerful thrust, expending himself deep into his blonde lover. Chris was sure he could feel as Brock came inside him, emptying himself into the deepest parts of Chris.
Slowly, Brock pulled out. Chris threw his arms over his eyes, panting. He hadn't been fucked like that in so long, and felt spent. He relaxed his body for a moment, until suddenly, his legs were pushed back behind his ears, and his ass was in the air.
Brock instantly moved his chapped, raw lips onto Chris's hole, kissing, licking and sucking at it. The stimulation was too much for Chris, as the man's beard tickled against the raw skin and his lips and warm, large tongue worked at his hole over and over. Before he knew it, Chris was hard again, and Brock simply continued rimming his filthy hole.
This resumed until Chris moaned loudly. "I-I'm going to c-cum again, please Brock, oh- oh g-god...!"
And with that warning, Brock removed his mouth from his lovers hole, and quickly grasped the man's cock. He felt it pulsed as Chris came, covering the brunets beard and hair with the sticky cum. As Chris settled, Brock took his large thumb and swiped a small sliver of Chris' cum from his beard, licking and smirking as he collapsed next to the smaller man.
Chris breathed heavily and slowly as the hulking man lay next to him, breathing deeply as they both fell asleep into a much needed slumber.
---
Chris awoke with a start. He was momentarily disorientated as he gathered his memories from the night before. Miraculously, he was clean, as opposed to covered in the dried cum from last night's intense fuck session.
And speaking of his hunky partner...
Chris looked around. There was no sign of the muscular man. He felt a small pang if hurt that the man wouldn't say goodbye, after their intense love making the night before.
Chris stepped out of his bed, and slipped into a pair of tight boxer briefs. His bare feet padded down the wooden floors, and made his way downstairs. Suddenly, as he reached the foot of the stairs, the strong waft of something sweet grasped his nose.
He turned to the kitchen, where the smell of pancakes assaulted him, as well as the sight of the lion maned Brock, standing in a pair of Chris' boxer briefs (which were much too tantalising for this early in the morning), over a stove flipping pancakes.
"Morning, baby. Hope you don't mind. You had he ingredients, so..." he said somewhat meekly, his back to the blonde. Chris smiled and walked behind him, wrapping his large arms around the man's bare midriff, gripping tight and nuzzling his head into the larger man's huge back.
"Nah, keep going. After all, if you're as good a cook as you are at fucking, I'm in for a treat," he joked, and Brock's deep chuckle sent a familiar shiver through his body.
"Sure thing, baby. You want syrup?" he playfully asked, lifting the lan to flip the next pancake, and Chris nodded into his back.
"Yes please...daddy..."
Brock almost dropped the pan.
FIN