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Original Story by: Molar09
Remember to check my socials!
https://linktr.ee/ArturoWolff", "writing": "Sparks on the Wire\n\n\n\n The dust-choked horizon stretched out like a scar across the earth, a relentless reminder that the world beyond Lowstump had long since bled out. Rory; a short and young 10-year-old boy with short brown messy hair and brown eyes, curved back and round butt, gripped the edge of the passenger seat in the battered patrol buggy, his knuckles whitening against the cracked vinyl. The engine growled low and thirsty beneath them, kicking up plumes of red dirt that swirled in the rearview mirror like vengeful ghosts. At his young age, Rory had seen enough of the wastes to know the silence out here wasn’t empty –it was waiting. For raiders, for mutants, for the next storm that could strip the flesh from your bones. But today, the sky hung heavy and brass-coloured, pressing down on the acres of razor-wire perimeter that kept Lowstump’s fragile heartbeat thumping.\n Beside him, Troy; his older brother, hunched over the wheel, his jaw set like rusted iron. Nineteen years old and built like the fence they were here to check –tall, unyielding, a sharper brown hair and eyes. Rory had learned early not to poke at Troy when he was like this. It was like prodding a live wire: you might get away with a spark, but more often, you’d end up charred.\n —Pass me the canteen. —Troy grunted, not looking over—.\n His voice was gravel scraped raw, the kind that had been grinding away at itself for days.\n Rory twisted in his seat, fishing the dented metal flask from the webbing behind him. He handed it over, the slosh of water inside the only sound breaking the engine’s drone.\n —Here. You eat yet? Ma packed jerky if you’re–\n —I’m fine. —Troy snatched it, took a swig that missed half his mouth, and wiped his chin with the back of his glove—.\n Drops spattered the dashboard, joining the constellation of old stains –blood from a cut finger, oil from endless repairs, tears from... well, Rory didn’t like thinking about that.\n —Just drive straight. And quit yapping. Ain’t in the mood for your kid stories today.\n Rory bit back a retort, staring out at the endless roll of the electric wall. It shimmered faintly in the heat haze, a chain-link behemoth stretching miles in either direction, topped with coils of barbed wire and humming with the village’s most precious resource: electricity. Solar panels back in Lowstump fed the grid, a miracle of pre-Fall tech jury-rigged by the elders. One breach, one overload, and the whole perimeter could go dark. Raiders would swarm like locusts, and Lowstump –two hundred souls huddled in mud-brick homes and hydroponic greenhouses– would be picked clean. Rory’s job, his family’s job, was to make sure that never happened. Ronald, their father, had drilled it into them: “We’re the spine of this place, boys. Bend, and we all break.”\n But Troy wasn’t bending. He was snapping. It had been three nights since Molly vanished, and the village was still buzzing like a hive kicked over. Rory shifted in his seat, the vinyl creaking under his slight frame. He was all elbows and knees.\n Troy slammed the canteen back into the holder, harder than necessary. The buggy swerved a fraction, tires chewing gravel.\n —Damn it. —He hissed, yanking the wheel straight—. These ruts are getting worse. Father’s gonna have us out here double-time if we report another washout.\n Rory nodded, keeping his eyes on the fence.\n —We could patch it with the spare mesh. Uncle David showed me how last week. It’s not so bad if you–\n —Troy to Base. —Troy barked into the radio clipped to his shoulder, ignoring him completely—.\n Static crackled, then cleared.\n —Perimeter sector seven clear so far. No breaches. Wall’s holding at eighty percent charge. Over.\n The chief’s voice rasped back, tinny and authoritative. “Copy that, Troy. Keep it tight out there. Elder’s got scouts out after those travellers –don’t need any more surprises. Rory with you?”\n —Affirmative. —Troy replied, his tone flat. Kid’s learning the ropes.\n “Watch your sectors. Out.”\n Troy thumbed the radio off and slumped back, the buggy coasting to a halt beside a weathered inspection post. The fence loomed twenty feet high, its links humming with latent fury. Warning signs, faded but legible, dangled from the wire.\n Rory had touched it once as a kid –brushed it with a stick, really and watched the branch vaporize in a puff of smoke. Lesson learned.\n They climbed out, boots crunching on brittle scrub. Troy yanked a voltmeter from the toolbox bolted to the buggy’s side, clipping it to the chain-link with practiced efficiency. The needle danced, steady at green.\n —See? Fine. Told you.\n Rory crouched beside him, peering at the readings anyway. He traced a finger along the base of the post, feeling for loose soil or scorch marks. \n —Just double-checking. You know how Father is. One flicker, and he’s on us like–\n —Leave it alone. —Troy’s voice sharpened, a blade unsheathed—.\n He swatted Rory’s hand away, not hard, but enough to sting.\n —I checked it. It’s fine. What, you think I can’t do my damn job?\n Rory rocked back on his heels, heat rising in his cheeks. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the air thick and soupy. He wiped sweat from his brow, tasting salt and dust.\n —No, it’s not that. I just... you’re not all here today, Troy. And if the grid fries because we missed something...\n Troy’s eyes narrowed. He straightened, towering over Rory, his shadow swallowing the boy whole.\n —Not all here? That’s what you think? After everything? —His laugh was bitter, a bark that echoed off the wire—. Yeah, well, maybe if certain people hadn’t decided to play hero, I’d be focused.\n Rory’s stomach twisted. He knew exactly who Troy meant. Molly. It had started three weeks ago, the elders’ decree read out in the village square under the flickering glow of the central bonfire. Lowstump’s laws were ironclad, forged in the fires of survival: pairings chosen by the council to bolster numbers, ensure bloodlines stayed strong.\n No room for sentiment in the apocalypse. Troy, as the eldest son of Ronald’s house, had been matched with Molly –ripe of age, sharp-tongued, with hair like spun copper and eyes that dreamed too big for their dirt walls.\n At first, it seemed workable. But not for long it did not work.\n Now, under the merciless sun, that rage boiled over. Rory straightened, meeting Troy’s glare.\n —It’s not about you making a mistake. It’s about–\n —About what? —Troy stepped closer, the voltmeter dangling forgotten from his hand—.\n His breath was hot, laced with the faint rot of unbrushed teeth.\n —Spit it out, little brother. What’s got you so high and mighty today?\n Rory’s mouth worked, words tangling. The heat, the dust, the hum of the wire –it all pressed in, squeezing.\n —I get it, okay? Why she left. Slipping out in that van, like a ghost. I understand.\n The world tilted. Troy froze, his face draining to ash.\n —What did you say?\n Rory’s pulse thundered in his ears. Stupid, stupid. He backpedalled, hands up.\n —I–I mean, she’s always talked about leaving. The stories, the outside. It’s not your fault, Troy. Really. She just... couldn’t stay.\n Troy’s eyes bored into him, piecing it together like a shattered pot. The realization hit like a grid surge –bright, blinding.\n —You knew. —His voice dropped low, dangerous—. You knew she was planning it. And you...\n He lunged, fingers clamping Rory’s collar, yanking him up until toes scraped dirt.\n —You helped her, didn’t you? You little shit. You let her go!\n Rory choked, clawing at Troy’s wrist.\n —Troy– stop–\n —You think you’re so clever? —Troy roared, shaking him like a rag doll. Spittle flecked Rory’s cheek—. Elders find out, we’re done! House points stripped –Father disgraced, David out on his ass again. All because you couldn’t keep your nose out of it!\n He shoved, hard. Rory stumbled back, spine cracking against the buggy’s fender. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot.\n —Troy, please– \n Rory gasped, sliding down, world spinning.\n But Troy was on him, boot lashing out, connecting with Rory’s thigh in a dull thud that drove the air from his lungs. Rory curled, wheezing, tasting copper.\n —You cost me everything! —Troy loomed, chest heaving, face twisted in something feral –hurt masked as hate—.\n His hands flexed, knuckles white.\n —She was mine. My bride. And you... you stole her.\n He grabbed Rory’s arm, hauling him up like dead weight, slamming him against the chain-link. The fence buzzed angrily, inches from Rory’s ear, ozone sharp in his nose.\n —You think you can just fix things? Play the good boy while I burn?\n Rory’s vision blurred, tears mixing with sweat.\n —I’m sorry—I didn’t mean–\n —Sorry? —Troy’s laugh was ugly, broken—.\n He pressed in, body pinning Rory’s to the wire, the hum vibrating through them both. His free hand fisted in Rory’s shirt, tearing buttons loose. \n —You don’t get to be sorry. You get to pay. —His mouth crashed down, brutal and claiming, teeth clashing—.\n Rory bucked, panic surging, but Troy was heavier, angrier, the world narrowing to the crush of bone and breath.\n Troy ripped Rory’s shirt open, sending buttons flying as he exposed his chest. He grabbed Rory’s wrists and pinned them above his head against the chain-link fence, the hum of electricity buzzing through their bodies. Troy’s eyes were wild with rage and lust as he took in the sight of his brother’s bare torso.\n He leaned in close, hot breath washing over Rory’s ear.\n —You’re going to pay for what you did. he growled before biting down hard on Rory’s earlobe.\n Rory cried out at the sharp sting of pain, trying to squirm away but Troy held him firmly in place. His free hand groped roughly at Rory’s crotch, squeezing and kneading through his pants until Rory was half-hard despite himself.\n —Fucking slut. —Troy spat venomously—. Getting off this quickly? A traitor and a bitch.\n He undid Rory’s belt with quick, jerky movements and yanked down both his pants and underwear in one harsh motion. Cool air hit Rory’s now fully erect penis and he shuddered, humiliation burning his cheeks. Troy grabbed it roughly, stroking with punishing force.\n —Look at you. —Troy sneered—.You are not supposed to be into this. You want your big brother to fuck you like the whore you are.\n He squeezed painfully tight, and Rory yelped, tears springing to his eyes.\n —N-no... please...\n Troy just laughed cruelly at Rory’s plea, continuing to stroke him with brutal force. His other hand released Rory’s wrists only to fist in his hair, yanking his head back sharply.\n —Shut up. —He snarled—. You don’t get a say anymore. You costed me my wife, prepare to replace her.\n He shoved Rory roughly against the fence again and dropped to his knees in the dirt. Before Rory could react, Troy took his own cock into Rory’s mouth and started thrusting viciously.\n Rory teared out at the sudden penetration of his mouth, bucking involuntarily as Troy face-fucked him.\n —Ah! Fuck! —Troy gasped out, fingers deep in Rory’s hair—.This should keep you quiet.\n Troy didn’t let up. If anything he redoubled his efforts, both hands grabbing tightly to Rory’s head while tears mixed with saliva, holding him in place.\n Troy’s cock throbbed and pulsed in Rory’s mouth as he hurtled towards orgasm, the brutal suction and scrape of teeth pushing him to the brink. Just as he was about to come, Troy pulled out with a wet pop.\n —Not yet. —He snarled—.You are not getting out of this that easily.\n Rory watched with a mix of dread and reluctant arousal as his mouth salivated from the abuse.\n Troy grabbed Rory and spun him around roughly. He bent Rory over the fence, pressing his bare chest against the vibrating chain-link. The rough metal scraped against Rory’s sensitive nipples as Troy kicked his legs apart.\n —Brace yourself. —Troy warned before lining up his cock with Rory’s entrance—. This is going to hurt.\n And then he thrust forward brutally, burying himself balls-deep inside Rory in one violent motion. Rory screamed at the sudden invasion, his body not nearly ready to take such a thick intrusion.\n Troy didn’t give him time to adjust, immediately starting up a punishing pace. He gripped Rory’s hips hard enough to bruise as he slammed into him over and over again, grunting with each thrust.\n —Fucking take it. —He snarled—. Take what you deserve.\n The pain was excruciating but Troy’s cock kept hitting that spot inside Rory that made sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine. Despite himself, Rory could feel his own erection bobbing between his legs with each brutal thrust.\n —You like this don’t you? —Troy panted in his ear—. Like being used like the dirty slut you are? Admit it!\n Rory shook his head frantically even as he felt himself getting closer and closer to orgasm from the relentless pounding alone.\n —N-no... please...\n Troy just laughed darkly and reached around to stroke Rory’s dripping cock in time with his thrusts.\n —Liar. Your cock is throbbing for it. Come on, give in. Give me what I want.\n Rory whimpered as Troy’s hand moved faster and faster over his shaft, the dual stimulation of being pounded into the fence and stroked off pushing him to the brink.\n —Fuck... fuck... —He gasped out—. I’m gonna... ah!\n —Damn, I should have been pounding your ass instead of that useless bride of mine ages ago! —Troy was overflowed with pleasure from Rory’s tight ass—.\n Troy bit down hard on Rory’s shoulder at that moment, sending Rory hurtling over the edge with a strangled cry. His cock pulsed and jerked as he came hard all over Troy’s stroking fist, ropes of cum splattering against the chain-link.\n Troy continued thrusting through Rory’s orgasm, using his spasming hole to milk himself until with a guttural groan he buried himself deep one last time and started coming inside Rory with hot spurts.\n They stayed like that for a long moment –Troy slumped over Rory’s back, both of them panting harshly as they recovered from their intense releases.\n Finally, Troy pulled out slowly, making Rory wince at the burn of stretched skin.\n Troy tucked himself away and zipped up his pants before stepping back. He looked down at Rory’s naked, cum-streaked form with a mix of satisfaction and disgust.\n —Clean yourself up. —He ordered coldly—. And don't you dare tell anyone about this. Or next time I won't be so gentle.\n With that he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Rory slumped against the fence, sore and used but still half-aroused from the degrading encounter.\n2\n\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Sparks on the Wire



       The dust-choked horizon stretched out like a scar across the earth, a relentless reminder that the world beyond Lowstump had long since bled out. Rory; a short and young 10-year-old boy with short brown messy hair and brown eyes, curved back and round butt, gripped the edge of the passenger seat in the battered patrol buggy, his knuckles whitening against the cracked vinyl. The engine growled low and thirsty beneath them, kicking up plumes of red dirt that swirled in the rearview mirror like vengeful ghosts. At his young age, Rory had seen enough of the wastes to know the silence out here wasn’t empty –it was waiting. For raiders, for mutants, for the next storm that could strip the flesh from your bones. But today, the sky hung heavy and brass-coloured, pressing down on the acres of razor-wire perimeter that kept Lowstump’s fragile heartbeat thumping.
       Beside him, Troy; his older brother, hunched over the wheel, his jaw set like rusted iron. Nineteen years old and built like the fence they were here to check –tall, unyielding, a sharper brown hair and eyes. Rory had learned early not to poke at Troy when he was like this. It was like prodding a live wire: you might get away with a spark, but more often, you’d end up charred.
       —Pass me the canteen. —Troy grunted, not looking over—.
       His voice was gravel scraped raw, the kind that had been grinding away at itself for days.
       Rory twisted in his seat, fishing the dented metal flask from the webbing behind him. He handed it over, the slosh of water inside the only sound breaking the engine’s drone.
       —Here. You eat yet? Ma packed jerky if you’re–
       —I’m fine. —Troy snatched it, took a swig that missed half his mouth, and wiped his chin with the back of his glove—.
       Drops spattered the dashboard, joining the constellation of old stains –blood from a cut finger, oil from endless repairs, tears from... well, Rory didn’t like thinking about that.
       —Just drive straight. And quit yapping. Ain’t in the mood for your kid stories today.
       Rory bit back a retort, staring out at the endless roll of the electric wall. It shimmered faintly in the heat haze, a chain-link behemoth stretching miles in either direction, topped with coils of barbed wire and humming with the village’s most precious resource: electricity. Solar panels back in Lowstump fed the grid, a miracle of pre-Fall tech jury-rigged by the elders. One breach, one overload, and the whole perimeter could go dark. Raiders would swarm like locusts, and Lowstump –two hundred souls huddled in mud-brick homes and hydroponic greenhouses– would be picked clean. Rory’s job, his family’s job, was to make sure that never happened. Ronald, their father, had drilled it into them: “We’re the spine of this place, boys. Bend, and we all break.”
       But Troy wasn’t bending. He was snapping. It had been three nights since Molly vanished, and the village was still buzzing like a hive kicked over. Rory shifted in his seat, the vinyl creaking under his slight frame. He was all elbows and knees.
       Troy slammed the canteen back into the holder, harder than necessary. The buggy swerved a fraction, tires chewing gravel.
       —Damn it. —He hissed, yanking the wheel straight—. These ruts are getting worse. Father’s gonna have us out here double-time if we report another washout.
       Rory nodded, keeping his eyes on the fence.
       —We could patch it with the spare mesh. Uncle David showed me how last week. It’s not so bad if you–
       —Troy to Base. —Troy barked into the radio clipped to his shoulder, ignoring him completely—.
       Static crackled, then cleared.
       —Perimeter sector seven clear so far. No breaches. Wall’s holding at eighty percent charge. Over.
       The chief’s voice rasped back, tinny and authoritative. “Copy that, Troy. Keep it tight out there. Elder’s got scouts out after those travellers –don’t need any more surprises. Rory with you?”
       —Affirmative. —Troy replied, his tone flat. Kid’s learning the ropes.
       “Watch your sectors. Out.”
       Troy thumbed the radio off and slumped back, the buggy coasting to a halt beside a weathered inspection post. The fence loomed twenty feet high, its links humming with latent fury. Warning signs, faded but legible, dangled from the wire.
       Rory had touched it once as a kid –brushed it with a stick, really and watched the branch vaporize in a puff of smoke. Lesson learned.
       They climbed out, boots crunching on brittle scrub. Troy yanked a voltmeter from the toolbox bolted to the buggy’s side, clipping it to the chain-link with practiced efficiency. The needle danced, steady at green.
       —See? Fine. Told you.
       Rory crouched beside him, peering at the readings anyway. He traced a finger along the base of the post, feeling for loose soil or scorch marks.
       —Just double-checking. You know how Father is. One flicker, and he’s on us like–
       —Leave it alone. —Troy’s voice sharpened, a blade unsheathed—.
       He swatted Rory’s hand away, not hard, but enough to sting.
       —I checked it. It’s fine. What, you think I can’t do my damn job?
       Rory rocked back on his heels, heat rising in his cheeks. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the air thick and soupy. He wiped sweat from his brow, tasting salt and dust.
       —No, it’s not that. I just... you’re not all here today, Troy. And if the grid fries because we missed something...
       Troy’s eyes narrowed. He straightened, towering over Rory, his shadow swallowing the boy whole.
       —Not all here? That’s what you think? After everything? —His laugh was bitter, a bark that echoed off the wire—. Yeah, well, maybe if certain people hadn’t decided to play hero, I’d be focused.
       Rory’s stomach twisted. He knew exactly who Troy meant. Molly. It had started three weeks ago, the elders’ decree read out in the village square under the flickering glow of the central bonfire. Lowstump’s laws were ironclad, forged in the fires of survival: pairings chosen by the council to bolster numbers, ensure bloodlines stayed strong.
       No room for sentiment in the apocalypse. Troy, as the eldest son of Ronald’s house, had been matched with Molly –ripe of age, sharp-tongued, with hair like spun copper and eyes that dreamed too big for their dirt walls.
       At first, it seemed workable. But not for long it did not work.
       Now, under the merciless sun, that rage boiled over. Rory straightened, meeting Troy’s glare.
       —It’s not about you making a mistake. It’s about–
       —About what? —Troy stepped closer, the voltmeter dangling forgotten from his hand—.
       His breath was hot, laced with the faint rot of unbrushed teeth.
       —Spit it out, little brother. What’s got you so high and mighty today?
       Rory’s mouth worked, words tangling. The heat, the dust, the hum of the wire –it all pressed in, squeezing.
       —I get it, okay? Why she left. Slipping out in that van, like a ghost. I understand.
       The world tilted. Troy froze, his face draining to ash.
       —What did you say?
       Rory’s pulse thundered in his ears. Stupid, stupid. He backpedalled, hands up.
       —I–I mean, she’s always talked about leaving. The stories, the outside. It’s not your fault, Troy. Really. She just... couldn’t stay.
       Troy’s eyes bored into him, piecing it together like a shattered pot. The realization hit like a grid surge –bright, blinding.
       —You knew. —His voice dropped low, dangerous—. You knew she was planning it. And you...
       He lunged, fingers clamping Rory’s collar, yanking him up until toes scraped dirt.
       —You helped her, didn’t you? You little shit. You let her go!
       Rory choked, clawing at Troy’s wrist.
       —Troy– stop–
       —You think you’re so clever? —Troy roared, shaking him like a rag doll. Spittle flecked Rory’s cheek—. Elders find out, we’re done! House points stripped –Father disgraced, David out on his ass again. All because you couldn’t keep your nose out of it!
       He shoved, hard. Rory stumbled back, spine cracking against the buggy’s fender. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot.
       —Troy, please–
       Rory gasped, sliding down, world spinning.
       But Troy was on him, boot lashing out, connecting with Rory’s thigh in a dull thud that drove the air from his lungs. Rory curled, wheezing, tasting copper.
       —You cost me everything! —Troy loomed, chest heaving, face twisted in something feral –hurt masked as hate—.
       His hands flexed, knuckles white.
       —She was mine. My bride. And you... you stole her.
       He grabbed Rory’s arm, hauling him up like dead weight, slamming him against the chain-link. The fence buzzed angrily, inches from Rory’s ear, ozone sharp in his nose.
       —You think you can just fix things? Play the good boy while I burn?
       Rory’s vision blurred, tears mixing with sweat.
       —I’m sorry—I didn’t mean–
       —Sorry? —Troy’s laugh was ugly, broken—.
       He pressed in, body pinning Rory’s to the wire, the hum vibrating through them both. His free hand fisted in Rory’s shirt, tearing buttons loose.
       —You don’t get to be sorry. You get to pay. —His mouth crashed down, brutal and claiming, teeth clashing—.
       Rory bucked, panic surging, but Troy was heavier, angrier, the world narrowing to the crush of bone and breath.
       Troy ripped Rory’s shirt open, sending buttons flying as he exposed his chest. He grabbed Rory’s wrists and pinned them above his head against the chain-link fence, the hum of electricity buzzing through their bodies. Troy’s eyes were wild with rage and lust as he took in the sight of his brother’s bare torso.
       He leaned in close, hot breath washing over Rory’s ear.
       —You’re going to pay for what you did. he growled before biting down hard on Rory’s earlobe.
       Rory cried out at the sharp sting of pain, trying to squirm away but Troy held him firmly in place. His free hand groped roughly at Rory’s crotch, squeezing and kneading through his pants until Rory was half-hard despite himself.
       —Fucking slut. —Troy spat venomously—. Getting off this quickly? A traitor and a bitch.
       He undid Rory’s belt with quick, jerky movements and yanked down both his pants and underwear in one harsh motion. Cool air hit Rory’s now fully erect penis and he shuddered, humiliation burning his cheeks. Troy grabbed it roughly, stroking with punishing force.
       —Look at you. —Troy sneered—.You are not supposed to be into this. You want your big brother to fuck you like the whore you are.
       He squeezed painfully tight, and Rory yelped, tears springing to his eyes.
       —N-no... please...
       Troy just laughed cruelly at Rory’s plea, continuing to stroke him with brutal force. His other hand released Rory’s wrists only to fist in his hair, yanking his head back sharply.
       —Shut up. —He snarled—. You don’t get a say anymore. You costed me my wife, prepare to replace her.
       He shoved Rory roughly against the fence again and dropped to his knees in the dirt. Before Rory could react, Troy took his own cock into Rory’s mouth and started thrusting viciously.
       Rory teared out at the sudden penetration of his mouth, bucking involuntarily as Troy face-fucked him.
       —Ah! Fuck! —Troy gasped out, fingers deep in Rory’s hair—.This should keep you quiet.
       Troy didn’t let up. If anything he redoubled his efforts, both hands grabbing tightly to Rory’s head while tears mixed with saliva, holding him in place.
       Troy’s cock throbbed and pulsed in Rory’s mouth as he hurtled towards orgasm, the brutal suction and scrape of teeth pushing him to the brink. Just as he was about to come, Troy pulled out with a wet pop.
       —Not yet. —He snarled—.You are not getting out of this that easily.
       Rory watched with a mix of dread and reluctant arousal as his mouth salivated from the abuse.
       Troy grabbed Rory and spun him around roughly. He bent Rory over the fence, pressing his bare chest against the vibrating chain-link. The rough metal scraped against Rory’s sensitive nipples as Troy kicked his legs apart.
       —Brace yourself. —Troy warned before lining up his cock with Rory’s entrance—. This is going to hurt.
       And then he thrust forward brutally, burying himself balls-deep inside Rory in one violent motion. Rory screamed at the sudden invasion, his body not nearly ready to take such a thick intrusion.
       Troy didn’t give him time to adjust, immediately starting up a punishing pace. He gripped Rory’s hips hard enough to bruise as he slammed into him over and over again, grunting with each thrust.
       —Fucking take it. —He snarled—. Take what you deserve.
       The pain was excruciating but Troy’s cock kept hitting that spot inside Rory that made sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine. Despite himself, Rory could feel his own erection bobbing between his legs with each brutal thrust.
       —You like this don’t you? —Troy panted in his ear—. Like being used like the dirty slut you are? Admit it!
       Rory shook his head frantically even as he felt himself getting closer and closer to orgasm from the relentless pounding alone.
       —N-no... please...
       Troy just laughed darkly and reached around to stroke Rory’s dripping cock in time with his thrusts.
       —Liar. Your cock is throbbing for it. Come on, give in. Give me what I want.
       Rory whimpered as Troy’s hand moved faster and faster over his shaft, the dual stimulation of being pounded into the fence and stroked off pushing him to the brink.
       —Fuck... fuck... —He gasped out—. I’m gonna... ah!
       —Damn, I should have been pounding your ass instead of that useless bride of mine ages ago! —Troy was overflowed with pleasure from Rory’s tight ass—.
       Troy bit down hard on Rory’s shoulder at that moment, sending Rory hurtling over the edge with a strangled cry. His cock pulsed and jerked as he came hard all over Troy’s stroking fist, ropes of cum splattering against the chain-link.
       Troy continued thrusting through Rory’s orgasm, using his spasming hole to milk himself until with a guttural groan he buried himself deep one last time and started coming inside Rory with hot spurts.
       They stayed like that for a long moment –Troy slumped over Rory’s back, both of them panting harshly as they recovered from their intense releases.
       Finally, Troy pulled out slowly, making Rory wince at the burn of stretched skin.
       Troy tucked himself away and zipped up his pants before stepping back. He looked down at Rory’s naked, cum-streaked form with a mix of satisfaction and disgust.
       —Clean yourself up. —He ordered coldly—. And don't you dare tell anyone about this. Or next time I won't be so gentle.
       With that he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Rory slumped against the fence, sore and used but still half-aroused from the degrading encounter.
2


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