The first time Reinhardt had ‘met’ McCree had been his very first night at his new home, bend over the saddle of a large, dusty motorcycle and getting his hole spread on a thick cock that made him suck in his belly from the sudden burn of it, and yet cant out his ass for more.
“Yo, McCree! You’re just right. Lookit what we found.”
Reinhardt swings his head around and peeks above the swell of one bicep towards the entrance where one of his new masters has slung his arm jovially around the shoulders of another member of their gang – the kid looking like he is not older than 16 or 17.
His eyes are shining bright beneath the wide brim of his head, mouth hanging open just a little; soft and inviting. Reinhardt thought he might be staring at the gleaming slave collar around his throat – his pride and joy; he kept it meticulously clean – but it was impossible to tell for sure.
“Ever seen anything like it?”
“Uh…” the kid – McCree – says and lets himself get pulled closer towards the action, his big hands hanging lax at his sides. There’s a large revolver around his coltish, slim hips but he looks just young and vulnerable as he stares, watching as the other man fucks Reinhardt in unhurried slow strokes, ignoring the other two members of the gang.
He has his hands on Reinhardt’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart to watch himself disappear.
“Pretty furry,” he’s mumbling and thumbing through the crisp hair surrounding his dick. “Can hardly see a thing. Gonna have to shave ya.”
Reinhardt doesn’t say anything. He lets his head hang back down, sweat gathering on his brow. He can’t focus on the kid when he’s getting fucked and has to take care not to topple the machine over.
Still, he arches his back a little more, ass pushing up obediently into the leisurely thrusts just to make up for the other issue.
“Eh? Ever seen somethin’ like it?” the other man repeats. He sounds cautiously giddy. Like he is trying really hard not to laugh.
“No…”
“The slave or the fuckin’?” Another man roars from the other side of the bay now, and promptly the area erupts into bawdy laughter.
Reinhardt can’t hear the reply – or if there is any. The warmth from the fucking is starting to spread out into his extremities and tingling in his toes. His cock feels stupidly tender and eager. It’s been a while since he’s been fucked last, and even longer since he was given release. He bites the tip of his tongue first and then, when it doesn’t help, sinks teeth into his own biceps as the man behind him picks up speed and starts to rail him.
“Eh? You mean the slave or the fuckin’?” the first man wants to know now.
“I’ve never seen a slave that big,” McCree finally says. He takes the laughter in good stride, his cheeks cherry red and his slacks when Reinhardt glances over, tented over his eager, young cock.
It’s only a half-truth – everybody knows it, but they slap his back and let him flee anyway.
Reinhardt wonders how long it’ll take until the kid will come to him.
.o.
McCree likes to hover around awkwardly when Reinhardt gets fucked. He rarely is there when it starts but somehow, without a fail, migrates into whichever room the slave is getting dicked.
Reinhardt is a good boy – he’s old enough to have stopped being a rebellious shithead – and his collar is good as obsolete for punishments but his new masters like to shock him even so.
Sometimes they make him hold the little remote between his teeth as he’s getting fucked because they like it when his eyes are wide in trepidation and his body shakes in fear as he tries not to bite down too hard as to not shock himself – made all the harder by thick cocks relentlessly pressing against his prostate.
Reinhardt isn’t always in a state to actively notice his surroundings after his masters are done having fun with him, but whenever he’ll look around, he’ll see the kid standing to the side, cheeks brick red and eyes eager and shiny.
“He’s from Germany, McCree,” one or the other would call over every now and then, fucking into the slave with single minded intent and tugging mean and sharp at his chest hair. “They know how to train a proper slave over there, let me tell you. Fuck. Can take a cock any day of the week like a goddamn fuckin’ champ.”
.o.
It’s not entirely of his own will when McCree finally fucks him. He gets ribbed and teased and outright bullied into it by the other members of the gang, but in Reinhardt’s opinion he doesn’t look too put upon by it – in fact, he looks downright eager, if kind of scared shitless.
His hips are quick and nervous, pumping even before Reinhardt’s large fingers have started peeling his young, sleek cock out of his underwear. The fabric feels warm and tacky against his fingertips. Aaah, the eagerness of youth.
“Shhh,” Reinhardt rumbles, an easy grin on his face. He’s stretched out on a billiard table, massive thighs dwarfing the slim hips of the tall kid. McCree is still wearing his hat. It’s sitting askew on his head, the string loose around his throat. It only takes Reinhardt to close lovingly close his fingers around his young master’s cock to get him to jack-knife forward and his hat to tumble down, hanging between his shoulder blades, the chord tight but not restricting around his throat.
The crew around them snickers but Reinhardt thinks McCree doesn’t even hear them anymore. His gaze looks feverish and intent, his hands skimming nervously across the thick ridges of muscle on the slave’s belly, up into the thick chest hair. He palms Reinhardt’s pecs like they’re the tits of a lady and the slave squeezes his leaking cock with fondness, fingertips sliding farther down to the soft sac beneath.
The kid is a sweet one, still. Romantic.
Even so, he is curious – fingertips sliding beneath the metal of Reinhardt’s slave collar. Testing the give and feel of it. He looks once into Reinhardt’s face – a short, shy little glance before he stares down and takes his cock into his hands.
“Need both hands, eh, boy? He’s a big one,” one of the onlookers calls, and McCree – he just nods, earnest and focused on his fists and the way he squeezes the slave’s large, heavy dick in them.
Yes… this one was still sweet.
Reinhardt rumbles low. Lets him know that he appreciates the effort even as he coaxes him closer with the grip he has on the young master’s cock.
McCree, when his dick sniffs its first, willing body – warm and soft and eager to accept – lurches forward. His hands let go of Reinhardt’s cock and it slaps heavy and a little painful against his abs as McCree clamps shivering fingers around his sturdy hips.
His head hangs low, back bowing until his forehead nearly touches Reinhardt’s chest.
He can feel that pretty, young cock inside him; flexing eagerly. Pulsing against the velvety tight grip of his rim.
McCree’s voice has become high and almost whiny. He’s already a second from coming and everybody knows – the others around are laughing and slapping their thighs. (The kid jerks suddenly and Reinhardt thinks someone must have slapped his ass as well.)
Reinhardt is cooing low and soothing, large hands rubbing up and down McCree’s arms. He feels strangely fond of the young man, and holds obediently still; tries to allow him to calm down enough to fuck him at least a little.
“You feel so good,” he purrs in a low rumble, large hands holding McCree’s hips, fingers kneading into the lean, small ass. The kid was too thin – there wasn’t much nutrition to be had within the gang. “Good boy…”
McCree makes a strangled sound at that, head snapping up and staring at the slave with an intention that makes Reinhardt shudder hard enough to clench down on the sleek, eager cock.
He is surprised when McCree does move, after all, fingers digging into the slave’s skin as he starts to work his hips in sharp, piston like movements that make Reinhardt see stars as his prostate gets rubbed almost brutishly.
He wonders how often McCree has fantasized about this very moment: of fucking the big, good natured slave within an inch of his life. Leave the large man a shivering, jerking mess on the table, fucked out and useless.
McCree would not manage it today – but Reinhardt could only shudder helplessly thinking about the future to come now that the dam was broken and McCree would have the guts to fuck him.
Cyberrat Writes 