25: Colt (New York City)

To my fellow fetishists,

As I reflect on today – the first anniversary of this Patreon account – I am filled with gratitude. Your support of, participation in, and belief in this particular brand of storytelling have meant so much. I hope each installment has touched on a fantasy and given you moments of escape… and perhaps even made you cum, if I’m lucky.

Today, I’ve brought forth a special anniversary edition, if I may. It’s longer than the rest, just to mark the occasion. It’s a narrative born from the journey, crafted with every ounce of debauched passion and aroused creativity as Leo’s stories before it.

Thank you for reading along for a year. Your encouragement fuels my imagination and propels these journeys forward. Here's to another year of bowel beating and intestinal abuse.

With appreciation,

The Writer

###

I leaned against the glass wall of the rooftop bar, staring at the twinkling lights of Central Park South. JR and Matt knew how to throw a party – the space glowed with warmth despite the December chill outside. The city sprawled below like a blanket of stars, as if mirroring the real ones above.

What a year it had been. Matt, a chief at Sterling Group, had finally granted me a promotion (and a raise!), making me the youngest account executive in the firm's history. My bank account looked healthier than ever, though the real wealth came from the connections I'd made traveling. Domestic, international – my passport and luggage had taken a beating, but my guts had taken even more.

A grin spread across my face thinking about that massive guy who lived in a warehouse in Dallas who'd worked me over for hours. Or that guy in Fiji who traded punches with me until we were practically delirious. 

"Yo!" Belén appeared at my side, pressing a cold glass into my hand. The old fashioned's orange peel caught the light. "Why are you so quiet? You crushed it this year! Let your hair down a little!"

"Just taking it all in." I took a sip, the bourbon warming my chest. "Thanks, B."

"Of course." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Hey – remember when you visited my family last summer? Abuelita still asks about you."

I laughed. "Mmh, I had a great time." She'd invited me to her family's place in Rincón, this gorgeous beach house where I'd spent a week swimming and eating her grandmother's asopao de pollo.

"You should come back soon," Belén said. "I know she would love to fatten you up again."

"She succeeded last time. I spent weeks shaving those vacation pounds off."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're still built like a brick wall." 

The party hummed around us, laughter and clinking glasses outshined the muffled sounds of the city below.

Through the crowd, a tall figure caught my eye. He stood near the bar, his black sweater falling just right over his athletic frame. Something about the way he carried himself – confident but not cocky – drew my attention. His beard was neatly trimmed, and even from over here I could see his eyes were a soft shade of blue.

Is that a weird thing for me to have noticed this far out?

"Oh?" Belén followed my gaze. "That's some premium beef right there."

"Shut up." I took another sip of bourbon through a smirk.

"No, seriously. Go talk to him. He's been checking you out too."

I shook my head. "It's getting late, and I'm not really up for the whole 'where are you from, what do you do' song and dance tonight. Not this late."

"Your loss." She shrugged, then pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "I should head out anyway. Marco's waiting at home."

"Already?"

"I'm on call this weekend." She frowned. "Have a great holiday break, okay? Try not to work too much."

"Sterling's shutting down until January. I couldn't work if I wanted to."

"Yeah, that's why I'm on call." She playfully stuck her tongue out at me and laughed as she pulled her coat tight around her shoulders. "Text me when you get home safe."

"Yes, ma'am."

As she walked away from me backward, she pointed at me, then to the man in the black sweater, raising her eyebrows at me as she did. Her heels clacked against the floor as she turned and disappeared into the elevator. I turned back to my drink, purposely avoiding looking in the direction of the gorgeous stranger at the bar.

I drained the last of my old fashioned, the ice cubes clinking against my teeth. The party had thinned out by now – already 1 AM – with only small clusters of people remaining. Time to head home.

I pushed off from the glass wall and headed toward the bar to drop off my empty glass. As I approached, the guy in the black sweater moved toward the bar from the other direction. Up close, his height matched mine – rare for me – and I noticed his jawline that could cut glass. 

Fuck it.

"Hey." I set my glass on the bar. "I'm Leo."

His smile lit up his whole face. "Colt." A slight drawl colored his voice, catching me off guard.

"I was about to grab one last drink before heading out. Can I buy you one?"

His blue eyes sparkled. "That'd be great, actually."

I caught the bartender's attention. "Old fashioned for me." I turned to Colt.

“And for the lovely lady?” the bartender joked.

"Same, actually,” Colt said. We both chuckled.

I turned back to the bartender. "The tab's under Driskill, but you can close it out, please."

The bartender nodded and set to work on our drinks. Colt leaned against the bar, his sweater pulling tight across his broad shoulders and thick pecs. "So Leo, you come to a lot of Sterling Group parties?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know I work there?"

"I don't. Lucky guess based on the crowd." He grinned. "Plus, I saw you talking to Matt earlier. He consulted with me a few years back."

The bartender slid our drinks over, along with my receipt. I signed quickly, adding a generous tip.

"Small world." I took a sip of my fresh old fashioned.

"But before I met Matt, I purchased one of his husband's paintings a few years ago. I'd say that I'm closer with JR, in fact," Colt took a sip of his drink. "We hit it off, kept in touch. He's got this way of capturing movement in his figure work that just grabs you."

"Right?" I leaned forward. "The way he handles light on skin is incredible. There's this piece he did last spring – three figures in motion, caught mid-stride."

"The one with the gold leaf accents." Colt's face brightened. "That series was phenomenal. The interplay of shadow and highlight, especially around the subjects’ shoulders and lats."

"Exactly. And how he builds up those layers of translucent color." I shook my head in admiration. "I've been saving up to buy one of his pieces. The waiting list is brutal though."

"Worth every penny and every minute of waiting." Colt smiled. "The one I bought hangs in my office where I spend most of my time."

"I'm jealous. Which piece did you get?"

"The bronc rider series – the one with the figure holding on as the bronc bucks. The way JR captured the tension in the subject's core muscles… mmh," He trailed off, taking a slow sip of his drink.

My pulse quickened slightly at his choice of subject matter. "That's actually one of my favorites of his."

"There's my boys!" Matt's voice boomed behind us, shocking us back into reality before we'd had a moment to leave it. He and JR stumbled over, their faces flushed from the copious amount of booze they'd consumed over the night. JR wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders.

"We love you both so much," JR slurred, squeezing us tight.

Matt nodded emphatically. "The absolute best. Wait–" He squinted at us. "How do you two know each other?"

"We just met, actually," I said, trying not to laugh at their drunken affection.

"Just met?" Matt's eyes went wide. "Leo, do you know who this is? Columbia grad, founded that amazing fitness magazine – what was it called, babes?" He turned to JR.

"Village Fit," JR supplied.

"Yes! Built it from nothing, sold it last year for a fortune. And now he writes these incredible novels." Matt grabbed Colt's face between his hands. "You're such a catch."

I glanced at Colt, whose cheeks had turned pink. He rubbed a hand down his face, clearly embarrassed by Matt's effusive praise. Something about his modesty despite his impressive achievements made my heart skip. What's going on?

"Alright, we're heading home," JR announced, pulling Matt toward him. "But we love you both!"

They each planted sloppy kisses on our cheeks before heading toward the elevator, swaying and bumping into each other as they walked.

"Wow, wow, wow," Colt said once they'd gone, still blushing.

I turned back to Colt, both of us breaking into laughter at the same time.

"Well, that was..." I gestured vaguely.

"Something else?" Colt shook his head, still grinning. "Those two are a trip when they're drunk."

"Matt's usually so buttoned up at work. This is a whole new side of him."

"JR brings out his wild side." Colt took another sip of his drink. "Though I guess that's what happens when you find your person."

The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten. "So, Columbia… did you move here for school?"

"Yeah, graduated high school early at seventeen. Couldn't wait to get to the city." His drawl became more pronounced as he relaxed. "I'm from Central Texas – and when I say that, I mean the middle of absolute nowhere."

"Like, small town nowhere?"

"Not even a town. Ranch country." He laughed. "My family raised horses. Started working with them young – teaching kids how to ride when I was fourteen. Did that until I left for New York."

"Teaching kids to ride horses at fourteen?" I raised my eyebrows. "I think I’d have been nervous to handle kids and animals all at once at fourteen."

"Parents trusted me because I'd been riding since before I could walk. Plus, there weren't exactly a lot of other options out there." He traced the rim of his glass with his finger. "Don't get me wrong – I loved it. But I always knew I wanted more than that life."

Something about the way he spoke about his past drew me in – the hint of nostalgia over his zero regrets about leaving. The quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly who they were and where they came from.

"And what about you?" Colt asked me. "New York local?"

"Houston, actually." I smiled. "Grew up in The Heights before moving here for NYU."

Colt's eyes lit up. "No shit – I spent so much time in Houston growing up. My family never missed the Rodeo. Three weeks of chaos."

"The carnival food alone was worth the trip." I laughed. "Did you compete?"

"Eh, a couple broc riding buckles." He grinned. "But honestly? I was there for the turkey legs."

"Ugh, the food was incredible. Did you ever hit up that BBQ stand right by the–"

"Main entrance?" Colt finished. "Best brisket I've ever had. And those giant cinnamon rolls from the bakery..."

We both happened to glance down at our empty glasses, his sentence trailing.

"Let me get us another round," I offered, reaching for my wallet.

"Actually..." Colt touched my arm lightly, radiating warmth through my skin. "I was thinking – would you like to see that JR painting?"

My heart raced. I forced myself to take a steady breath, trying to play it cool despite whatever was coursing through me. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good." His smile widened, and the intensity in his eyes made my knees weak.

We made our way to the coat check, where I retrieved my black coat and beanie. Colt pulled on a dark gray wool coat that fit his broad frame perfectly, wrapping a charcoal scarf around his neck that matched the beanie he slid over his head and ears.

The elevator ride down was charged, though I couldn't tell with what yet. I caught his reflection in the mirrored walls, admiring how the soft lighting caught his features.

We stepped out onto 59th Street, the December air hitting us like a wall of ice. The sidewalks were mostly empty this late, just the occasional group of partiers stumbling home.

"I'm over by Union Square," Colt said, adjusting his scarf. "Corner of 14th and 3rd. We can grab the N, R, or W at 5th Avenue, take it straight down." He glanced at me with a playful smile. "Or we could walk it."

I returned his grin. "You know what? A walk sounds perfect. Actually..." I nodded toward the lights of a 24-hour diner down the block. "Wanna grab some coffee for the walk?"

His eyes lit up. "Exactly what I need." He bumped his shoulder against mine. "Lead the way."

The diner's bell chimed as we pushed through the door, warmth and the smell of brewed coffee, fresh cinnamon rolls, and old pastrami wrapping around us. We ordered two coffees to go, watching the cashier pour them with practiced efficiency.

Back outside, steam curled from our cups as we headed down 5th Avenue. The city felt different at this hour – peaceful, almost dream-like. Light snow drifted down, catching in the glow of holiday displays that lined the street. Saks' windows told elaborate stories through mechanical figurines and twinkling lights.

"So you went straight into journalism after Columbia?" I asked, genuinely curious about his path but also distracted by the sights.

"Started as an intern at Condé Nast," he said, his voice deep and rich. That slight drawl made everything he said sound intimate somehow. "But I had this idea for a different kind of fitness magazine. Couldn't shake it. Regular people on the cover, no celebrities. Why would an accountant who works 50 hours a week give a shit about what a professional football player does to keep fit? That's not useful for the everyman."

We passed Rockefeller Center, the massive Christmas tree commanding attention even at this hour. Colt stopped for a moment, taking in the sight. The colored lights reflected in his eyes, and I found myself staring.

"What about you?" he asked as we continued down toward Union Square. "Always wanted to be a consultant?"

"God no," I laughed. "Wanted to be everything. But life has its own plans sometimes. This is where I fit, I’m good at it, I enjoy it, and it affords me tons of travel."

The conversation flowed easily as we crossed onto Broadway at Madison Square Park, sharing stories about our early days in the city. His height matched mine perfectly and I couldn't help noticing how his shoulder occasionally brushed mine as we walked.

Union Square opened up before us, the holiday market's wooden stalls locked up for the night. We crossed the empty plaza, our footsteps echoing off the stalls. At 14th and 3rd, Colt gestured to an old high-rise.

"Home sweet home," he said, fishing out his keys.

We stepped into the possibly-pre-war lobby, all marble and brass fixtures worn smooth by decades of hands. The elevator creaked its way up to the tenth floor, where Colt led me down a hallway with original crown molding.

His apartment door opened into a space that took my breath away – soaring ceilings, hardwood floors, and windows that offered stunning views of the city. The old bones remained intact, but Colt had transformed the space with clean lines and minimalist furnishings. An Eames lounge chair sat beside a sleek coffee table, while a longhorn skull mounted on exposed brick provided a subtle nod to his roots.

"Welcome to my place," Colt said, gesturing as we walked. "Living room here, kitchen through there. That's my office – used to be a sitting room. Bathroom's down the hall, bedroom at the end."

We shed our coats and boots by the door. The warmth of the apartment seeped into my body after our long walk through the cold.

"Can I get you anything? Water, wine, snack maybe?"

"Oh no, I'm good, thanks."

Colt chuckled. "Now, as a Southern boy, you know no one can enter my home–"

"–without getting fed," I finished with him, both of us breaking into laughter.

"Of course you'd get it." He grinned. "Southern hospitality dies hard, even in New York."

Colt moved behind me, his hand gliding across my upper back from shoulder to shoulder. The touch sent a clear tingling sensation down my spine. His arm wrapped around me as he guided me toward his office where JR's painting hung.

The bronc rider piece dominated the wall - all muscle and motion frozen in a moment of pure intensity. We stood in silence until Colt stepped away.

"Hold on, let me get the light." He flipped a switch and track lighting illuminated the canvas, bringing the colors to life. The rider's core muscles strained against the bronc's power, every sinew captured in perfect detail as if it were a photograph.

I felt Colt's hand return to my back, barely there, a whisper of contact. After a moment of my stillness, he withdrew his touch, uncertainty replacing confidence.

I reached out and placed my hand on his lower back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his sweater. His posture relaxed and he turned to me with a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," he said softly. "Truth is, I've been eyeing you since I first saw you across the room tonight."

A laugh escaped me. "And here I thought I was being subtle about staring at you all evening."

The tension melted from his shoulders, relief evident in how his whole body seemed to unwind. His blue eyes searched mine.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah."

As Colt's lips met mine, the world around us seemed to blur into insignificance. My hands instinctively reached up, tracing the contours of his biceps through the soft fabric of his sweater. I could feel the firmness of his muscles, the latent power coiled beneath his skin, responding to my touch with a quiet, aroused "Mhm."

With a swift motion, Colt pulled the sweater over his head, revealing the chiseled landscape of his chest and arms under the dim office light.

"Fuck yeah," I muttered, drinking in the sight of his muscular physique. Something primal within me sparked to life, a raw attraction that surged through me.

The corners of his mouth curled upward; his confidence clearly fueled by my reaction. He flexed his biceps, the muscles swelling impressively under his smooth skin. I couldn't help but worship those arms, running my hands over every ridge and valley, my fingers trembling slightly with desire.

Then, driven by an instinct I couldn't resist, I leaned in closer, burying my face in the crook of his arm. The earthy, masculine scent of his armpit filled my senses, heady and intoxicating. I heard Colt's breath catch as I inhaled deeply, my lips grazing his skin in a soft, lingering kiss.

His hands found their way to my body, mirroring my actions as he grabbed at my muscles through my sweater, his touch firm and possessive. A low growl of approval rumbled in his throat as he explored the terrain of my torso, his fingers tracing the ridges and valleys of my strength.

Suddenly, Colt's hands slipped under my sweater, his fingers cool against my heated skin. In one swift movement, he lifted the fabric, exposing my abs to the air. His lips were on me then, his tongue tracing the grooves between my muscles, each lick sending waves of arousal through my body.

I let out a breath as he reached my navel, his tongue circling the indentation with maddening slowness. My hands took him by the head, urging him on as he worshipped my body with lips and tongue.

"Do you like that?" I teased, my voice hoarse with desire.

Colt pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, the hunger in his gaze answering my question before his lips even parted.

"Yes," he said, the word bursting from him in a rush of breath. "Very much."

Colt rose to his full height, his abs catching the light. Though his muscles were thick and defined, there was a softness to his midsection when he was fully relaxed like this – a vulnerability that made my cock throb. Behind that wall of muscle lay his guts, his intestines, just waiting to be beaten and brutalized.

My fingers twitched at my sides as I imagined driving my fist deep into that unprotected belly, feeling his warm innards compress and shift under the force of each punch. The thought of his bowels getting crushed against his spine sent a jolt of arousal through me.

Colt must have noticed my intense focus on his midsection because a knowing smile spread across his face. He ran a hand down his abs, drawing my attention to how pliant and exposed they were in their relaxed state.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his stomach, imagining how those soft insides would feel yielding under my knuckles. My breath quickened as I pictured his intestines getting pummeled, twisting and churning with each brutal impact.

But not yet.

I peeled my sweater off, my skin tingling with anticipation as cool air hit it. My fingers went to the button of my jeans, and I popped it open, shimmying out of the denim along with my boxers. Colt watched me, his eyes dark with want as they roamed over my body.

He was still in his black pants, the fabric clinging to his hips and outlining the contours of his body. I couldn't help but let my gaze linger on the way his pants hung low, revealing the tantalizing V of his hips that disappeared beneath the waistband.

With a grace that belied his size, Colt stepped out of his pants, revealing his muscular form in nothing but a pair of snug, black boxer briefs. The fabric strained against his erection, and I found myself drawn to the impressive bulge… that is until he removed his underwear, too, revealing his healthy cock.

But it wasn't just his physique that caught my attention. On the side of his upper leg was a small barn swallow tattoo. A rush of recognition hit me, and my mind whirred as I connected the dots.

I'd seen that tattoo before, on a guy with a similar build on BrutalChat. The sight of that tattoo on Colt's hip sent a thrill through me.

I took a step closer, my voice husky as I asked, "Have you ever been on BrutalChat?"

Colt's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise – and arousal – crossing his face. "Yeah, I've been on there," he admitted, his voice low. "Why?"

I reached out, my fingertips grazing the inked skin of his hip. "I thought I recognized this." I gestured to his tattoo. "There's a guy on those chatrooms with a tattoo just like it. He's got a thing for impact play."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Colt's face, and he nodded. "Small world, huh? And here I thought my online escapades were a well-kept secret."

I laughed, feeling a new level of connection with Colt. It was one thing to share fetishes in the heat of the moment, but finding out that we'd both frequented the same digital spaces added another layer.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Colt asked, his gaze locked onto mine. "I assume you're not just here for the art."

His lips parted, a soft moan escaping as I reached out and ran the back of my hand over his cock. I could feel the heat radiating from his groin.

Colt breathed deep as I trailed my fingers up his torso, tracing the lines of his abs, feeling them quiver under my touch. I stopped just below his ribcage, my thumb reaching down and circling his bellybutton. I could tell he was holding his breath, waiting for what came next.

I withdrew my hand, stepping back to give us both some space.

Colt offered up, "I'm into all forms of impact play."

My heart raced with anticipation. "I've got a huge fetish for gutpunching," I confessed, my voice thick with desire.

Colt raised his eyebrows, and I could see the effect my words had on him. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Gutpunching is one of my absolute biggest fetishes." His gaze swept over me. "And I love ballbusting… and clearly, muscle worship and musk."

A rush of heat ran through me. I placed my fist against Colt's solid belly, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solidity of his abdominals against my knuckles. "Show me how much you like it," I said.

Colt took a deep breath, completely straightened his back, and lifted his chest, allowing his abs to fall completely and entirely slack, his stomach softening into a pillow of flesh. As he fully loosened his muscles, his upper belly pulled in flush with the bottom of his chest as his guts settled in his lower belly,  pushing his jelly-soft unflexed abs out in a defined bulge of intestines that begged to be punched hard.

"Hurt me," he exhaled, his eyes locked onto mine with a desperate need.

Almost overcome with arousal, I pulled my arm back and then, with all the force I could muster, I drove my fist deep into the man’s navel. The impact folded Colt's body onto my shoulder, his breath rushing out of him in a painful huff. My fist remained buried in his guts, the softness of his belly molded around my knuckles. The view of my fist sunk into this jock’s gut immediately made my cock ache, but I knew I needed far more than a single punch out of him.

"Fuuuuck, yeah," Colt moaned, his voice strained; muffled against the skin of my bare shoulder. "Ughh… I think you just moved my intestines in a way I’ve never felt before."

I kept my fist planted firmly in his gut and began grinding it around, making him squirm and moan into my shoulder — and he never once resisted. His cock was already completely erect, pressing against my thigh as he writhed.

"You like that, don't you?" I growled. "Feels good to have your gut punched?"

Colt managed a nod, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Yes... oh, God, yes."

I watched as Colt's body uncoiled to his full stature. He rubbed his belly — relaxed and loose with a beautiful dusting of body hair — and turned on his heel and strode out of the room. "Be right back," he called over his shoulder, the muscles in his back rippling with each step.

Left alone in the dimly-lit office, I took a moment to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. The anticipation of what was to come filled me with nearly uncontrollable excitement. I could still feel the ghostly warmth of Colt's belly against my knuckles, the memory of his loose bowels making my cock harder with each passing moment.

I didn't have to wait long. Colt returned, a small, dark bottle of poppers clutched in his hand. "Fresh from the freezer," he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Love this shit.”

He handed me the bottle, the glass cold against my skin. I turned it over in my hand.

Before I could even register what was happening, Colt scooped me up over his shoulder, his arm like a steel bar across the back of my legs. I let out a surprised laugh, the world flipping upside down as he carried me effortlessly through the apartment.

He threw me down hard onto his bed, the softness of the mattress giving way beneath our combined weight. Colt pinned me down, his body caging mine as he straddled my hips. I could feel the heat of his skin against mine, his hard cock pressing against my own.

With one hand, he snatched the bottle of poppers from my grasp. He positioned himself on his hands and knees over me, our faces inches apart. "Take a hit," he instructed, his voice husky with desire.

I inhaled deeply from the bottle, the fumes hitting me like a tidal wave. My head spun as the poppers amplified my senses, every nerve in my body singing with heightened awareness. Colt took his own hit, his eyes darkening with lust as the chemicals took effect.

"Please," I found myself begging, the word slipping from my lips of its own accord. "Punch me."

Colt flashed a wicked smirk. He drew his arm back and drove his fist deep into my navel. The impact forced the air from my lungs in a harsh grunt, stars exploding behind my eyelids as the intense blow flooded my system.

In the haze of the poppers, the sensation was almost too much to bear. My guts churned under the brutal onslaught, each punch sending shockwaves through my body from my core. I could feel my intestines rearranging themselves, the softness of my belly accommodating the assault of Colt's fist.

And then, in a moment of boldness, I drew back my own arm and punched upward into Colt's loose hanging guts above me. A deep grunt escaped his throat as he reacted to the impact. The muscles of his arms tensed, his body shuddering above me as he took in the brutal sensation in his gut.

Further emboldened by his reaction, I pulled my fist back once more and punched into his guts again, the force of the blow echoing through the room. Colt's head dropped forward as he grunted, his own cock twitching with each punch I delivered to his vulnerable bowels.

Colt rolled off me, catching the breath I'd just punched out of his body, his hand cradling his gut where I'd just hit him. I watched him, my own breath coming hard and fast, my cock aching with need. The sight of him, laid out and vulnerable, was intoxicating. I reached out, my fingers grazing the soft skin of his inner thigh before I gave his balls a gentle tap with the back of my hand.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jerking reflexively at my touch. The sound that escapes him is a deep, throaty moan. I caught an unspoken plea for more as he removed his hands from protecting his belly, and I couldn’t resist obliging him.

With a swift motion, I drew my arm back and drove my fist forward, burying it deep in Colt's lower intestines. The impact was brutal, violent, crushing his liquid-soft guts into his body. His core convulsed as the air was forced from his lungs in a harsh, pained gasp. I felt his intestines warp around my knuckles, the warmth of his belly enveloping my hand as I ground my fist into the depths of his bowels.

The sound of my punch landing was like a deep thud, the kind of sound you'd expect to hear from a sandbag being struck with all of someone's strength. I could detect his innards had sloshed over from the force of my blow, a grotesquely erotic noise that made my groin twitch.

Colt's reaction was immediate and visceral. He slid off the bed, landing on his hands and knees on the floor, his body shuddering with the intensity of the pain. Yet despite the agony radiating from his core, there was an unmistakable look of raw, animalistic desire in his eyes as he glanced back at me.

I watched him, my heart pounding in my chest, as he stayed there on the floor, breathing hard, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. The scent of his musk fills the air. I can see his cock, hard and leaking, hanging heavy between his legs, evidence of just how much he's enjoying this already.

I take in the sight of him, this powerful, muscular man, on his hands and knees from the power of my fists.

The world was still spinning from the poppers when Colt's hands were on me, his grip like iron as he spun me around and pinned my arms behind my back. I was trapped, utterly at his mercy for the moment.

"You want your guts beaten?" Colt's voice was a low growl in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You want to feel my fist buried deep in your guts?"

I tried to respond, to give voice to the desperate need coursing through me, but all that came out was a strangled moan. My eyes were drawn to the bulging muscles of his arms, the way they flexed and strained as he held me in place. I could feel the power of every solid contour as he held me tightly.

With no further warning, his fist crashed into my navel. The impact was sudden and violently deep; a brutal sensation that blew outward in waves of white-hot pain through my insides. My breath was knocked fully out of me, my body wanting to fold despite the hold he had on me.

Before I could even begin to recover, Colt's fist slammed into the pit of my gut. The force of the blow was enough to send me to my knees, but his strong body was there, holding me up as my intestines ached, keeping me from succumbing to the overwhelming urge to double over.

I could feel my intestines roiling from the impact. Each punch sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through my body, but with it came the rush.

Colt's voice was in my ear again, his words a harsh sadistic whisper. "Take it, Leo. Take my fist in your gut. You were made for this, weren't you?"

I nodded, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Yes," I hissed out, the word barely more than a whisper. "I was made for this. I was made for you."

Colt's response was another punch, this one even harder than the last. My guts took his fist in without a fight and again, I struggled not to double over from the agony in my intestines. 

Sweat began dripping down my forehead, the salty tang of it mingling with the taste of Colt's musk. Our combined fragrance of our pits and groins hung thick in the air of his bedroom.

Colt's fist was a relentless force, pounding into my loose belly over and over again. I could hear the wet smack of flesh on flesh, the sound almost drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears. The feeling of my guts being rammed into my spine taking most of my attention. 

With a sharp twist, I tore one arm free from Colt’s crushing grip and drove my elbow backward with the strength of a piston, slamming into the unguarded softness of his stomach like a hammer into clay.

The impact was solid, and I felt the wind rush out of him as he stumbled back, caught off guard by my sudden retaliation into the pit of his gut. Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his torso and locking him in a tight hold.

His body was heavy against mine, but I held him firmly in place, my nose nuzzling into the crook of his arm. The scent of his musk filled my nostrils again—a masculine mix of pine, likely from deodorant earlier in the day, and something uniquely Colt. I breathed him in, my lips brushing against the soft hair of his armpit.

"You like that?" Colt's voice was thick with arousal as he submitted to my exploration of his body. "Go on, take a whiff. Enjoy it."

His deep drawl sent a jolt through me. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the fragrance of his pits, reveling in the way the scent of his musk filled my lungs.

I felt Colt's chest expand as his nose wrinkled in satisfaction. My heart hammered in my ribcage as I nuzzled deeper into the warm hollow of his armpit.

"Damn right," Colt growled, his voice thick with arousal. "You're addicted to the smell of my pits."

I shuddered at his words. I could feel myself getting harder by the second, my hips involuntarily pressing forward against Colt's powerful body. "I am," I confessed, my voice hoarse and raw.

Colt's free hand came down on my shoulder, squeezing tightly as he guided me even closer, my face now fully buried in the crook of his elbow. My nose was filled with the musky scent of his armpit.

As I inhaled the heady fragrance, I glanced down, taking in the sight of Colt's sculpted torso, the way his abdominal muscles moved as he breathed. They tensed and relaxed with each inhale and exhale, creating a mesmerizing ripple effect that made my mouth go dry. I waited, biding my time, until his abs softened and fell slack, and then —

I struck.

With a powerful uppercut, I buried my fist in the depth of Colt's belly, just below his navel. My knuckles plowed into the pliant flesh of his gut, the force of the impact driving the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. I kept my fist firmly planted, grinding it deeper, as deep as his intestines would let me.

A strangled moan escaped Colt's throat as he stumbled backward, his body suddenly boneless. The look of raw, unfiltered need on his face made my cock throb. I used my fist as an anchor, leading with it and forcing Colt backward until his broad back slammed against the wall. 

My fist sank barely deeper into his yielding belly as his body came to a forceful stop against the wall, his guts flattening against his spine beneath the push of my fist. A sharp euphoric groan tore itself from Colt's throat, the sound so primal and filled with need that a sense of arousal nearly overtook me.

I twisted my wrist, feeling his intestines compress and shift under the pressure. "You like that, hunk? You like my fist rammed into your soft gut?" I teased, my voice dripping into his ear, less than an inch from my mouth. "You want me to destroy your guts?"

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and unguarded. "I want you to work me over until I can't stand. Beat my guts to a fucking pulp."

I took a step back, my eyes roaming hungrily over Colt's powerful frame. He flexed his right bicep and took my jaw in his large left hand, gently but firmly forcing my face back into his armpit. I could feel the soft hair of his pit tickling my skin as my nose was enveloped by his masculine fragrance again — just as good as poppers.

His bicep tightened, the muscles straining against his skin, as he pressed my face deeper into his pit. I let out a moan, my eyes sliding shut as I breathed in his scent, savoring the unique mix of musk that was distinctly Colt.

But just as quickly as he'd pulled me in, Colt pulled my face away from his armpit, leaving me gasping for breath, my lungs yearning with the need for more of him. I watched, my eyes glazed with longing, as he brought his own nose to his pit, inhaling deeply of his own scent.

"Fuck, bro," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Oh, fuck yeah."

I licked my lips as I watched him indulge in his own fragrance. I looked back to his stomach, which he'd just begged me to destroy. I watched his belly inflate and deflate with each breath he took.

And then, as if sensing my intent, Colt took a deep, deliberate huff of his own armpit, his belly expanding as his lungs filled with air. He exhaled slowly and deeply, forcing all of the air from his lungs. His lungs — and slack belly — totally emptied. I saw my opportunity and took it. With a quick, sharp movement, I drove my fist forward, punching Colt directly in the pit of his belly as he completed the thorough exhale.

The impact was glorious. No breath to punch out of his body. Just intestines flat against his spine, behind a wall of totally jellied abdominal muscles. My knuckles slammed into the spongy flesh of his gut, crushing his bowels with my fist. Colt's mouth fell open in a silent, euphoric cry, his eyes closing as he huffed out another breath.

Only a deep thud echoed in the room. 

I kept my fist buried deep in his belly, grinding my knuckles against his warm insides as I twisted my wrist. I loved the feeling of his insides giving in to my brutal assault, his gut bulging outward as if to accommodate my fist.

Colt's breath hitched, his body tensing as he tried to hold back the sound of his pleasure. But as I continued to grind my fist into his bowels, he couldn't hold it in any longer. A deep, guttural moan escaped his throat, the sound filling the room as he surrendered to the sensation.

"God, yeah," he breathed, his voice thick and raspy.

I twisted my wrist again, feeling his intestines churning under my hand. "You like that, pretty boy? You like the way my fist destroys your soft belly?"

"Please, bro. I want you to fucking destroy me."

"Look at you," I growled, my voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. "A big, powerful man, reduced to begging for your gut to be wrecked."

Colt's response was a desperate moan, his body trembling as he struggled to keep his feet. "Please," he whimpered, his eyes burning with a desperate need. "Again."

Removing my fist from his crushed guts, I reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the small, dark bottle of poppers. I glanced over at Colt, the city lights from outside casting a soft glow across his muscular form. He was breathtaking in his raw desire, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin under the muted light.

I offered the bottle to him, my hand hovering between us. Colt took it, his eyes never leaving mine as he brought the bottle to his nose and inhaled deeply. A shudder ran through him as the poppers rushed through his system, intensifying his senses.

His eyes drifted closed, his head falling back against the wall as he relished the sensation. He stretched out his arms, the backs of his hands pressed flat against the wall on either side of him, his body poised and vulnerable.

"Hurt me," he breathes out, his voice hoarse with want.

I felt a rush of power at his words. I stepped closer to him, my body nearly flush against his as I reached out and placed my hands on his stomach. I felt the warmth of his skin under my palms, his belly soft to my touch. My thumbs began to work in circles, pressing deep into the flesh of his gut, kneading and prodding as I massaged his stomach.

Colt let out a low, rumbling moan, his head still tipped back against the wall. "Fuck, yes," he said, his voice thick and gravelly. "Deeper."

I deepened the pressure of my massage, my fingers digging into his belly as I worked my hands in slow, deliberate circles, feeling the loops and twists of his intestines squirming beneath the supple flesh, the thick, powerful muscle of his abs completely relaxed for me.

And without warning, I curled my right hand into a fist and drove it deep into Colt's navel. The impact was violent as his body shuddered against mine. His breath rushed out of him in a sharp gasp, but he didn't double over; instead, he arched his back, pressing his body closer to mine.

"God, yeah," he moaned, his eyes clenched shut as he savored the brutal sensation.

I returned to massaging his gut, my fingers pushing deep into the soft, pliant flesh of his belly. Colt's abs were completely relaxed, allowing my hands full access to his insides. I kept my left hand firmly planted on his stomach, grinding my palm into his flesh, while my right hand curled into a fist once more.

In a swift motion, I pulled back and then drove my fist deep into his lower intestines, my knuckles reaching toward his spine. The impact buried my hand in his distended belly and sent a ripple through his gut.

Colt's reaction was immediate and electrifying. His body pressed harder against mine, his cock twitching between us. His head fell forward, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps, but still, he did not double over. His arms remained outstretched, nailed to the wall, as if he was absorbing every last splinter of pain.

The sound of my fist impacting his gut was a solid thud, the noise echoing off the walls of his bedroom. I felt Colt's intestines sloshing and twisting around my knuckles as his soft belly absorbed the force of my blow.

As the intense rush of the poppers began to fade, Colt slowly lowered his arms, his body sliding down the wall until he came to rest in a crouch, panting on the floor. I stood over him, my body still humming with adrenaline, watching as he struggled to catch his breath.

I towered over Colt, watching as he worked to regain his breath. His body was curled in on itself as he crouched, hunched over, and I could see the muscles in his back and shoulders working with each breath. I crouched down with him to make sure he was okay.

(He was more than okay.)

My eyes were drawn to his stomach, which was compressed and bulging out from his body as he remained bent over in a crouch. With each breath, his gut heaved, his once-visible abs barely discernible within the bulk of his gut.

Something stirred deep within me as I took in the sight of his distended belly. Damn, I thought, my mouth going dry. He's really fucking gorgeous.

I reached out and placed my hand on his gut, my palm splayed wide as I rubbed my hand in a slow circle, feeling the warmth of his soft belly against my skin as he breathed. The muscles of his stomach were completely relaxed, his abdominal wall doughy under my touch, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of power as I realized how much he trusted me to let himself be so vulnerable.

It was only a moment before Colt slowly began to straighten up, his body unfolding as he regained his full height. As he stood, his taut belly fell back into its natural, flat state, his relaxed abs still visibly defined under the skin.

I was flatly unable to tear my eyes away from the impressive display of his stomach. "You're something else," I murmured, my voice low and filled with admiration. "An absolute work of art."

Colt glanced down at his exposed stomach, a hint of a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of his sculpted physique. "You like playing with this?" he sighed, rubbing his stomach, his voice laced with a mixture of confidence and genuine curiosity.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his impressively tough torso. "I could look at you all fucking day," I admitted, my gaze roaming hungrily over his body. "You're a goddamn work of art, Colt. Every inch of you is perfect."

A beat passed as he took another breath.

"Come here," I said, taking a step toward him.

He didn't hesitate. He closed the distance between us in two strides. My hands came to rest on his hips, my thumbs brushing the sensitive skin at the dip of his waist. "You ready for more?" I asked, my voice barely rumbling out.

His posture straightened. "Hell yeah, I'm ready."

I walked Colt back to the wall and gently pushed his beefy frame up against it, handing him the poppers again. He took a long, deep huff, held it for a moment, and exhaled.

I watched Colt's face as the effects of the poppers washed over him, his eyes drifting shut as he surrendered to the rush. His cock twitched between his legs, and I knew he was feeling it.

Taking advantage of his vulnerable state, I moved my hand to his upper belly, my palm spanning the wide plane of his stomach. With a sharp, quick motion, I drove my hand forward, pressing it into his gut. The plunge was satisfying as his guts shifted beneath my hand, his belly giving in to the force of the blow of my open palm forced into him.

"Damn," I breathed. "Look at your fucking gut. So soft, so vulnerable."

He said nothing, his eyes burning into mine as he struggled to recover his breath. I squeezed my hand into as tight a fist as I could, curling my fingers and thumb inward, feeling his intestines squirm and shift under the pressure. I could feel his guts rearrange themselves within his belly, accommodating my fist's grasp of his loose insides.

The rest of Colt's body was taut, his muscles tense and bulging as he experienced the pain; but like a good boy, he kept his stomach fully relaxed.

With my fist still grasping his unflexed abs and the intestines beneath them, I stepped closer, my body pressing against his. Colt's breathing was pained as his eyes flicked down to my hand, which was still embedded in his gut. I tightened my fist even more, feeling his intestines bunch up beneath my knuckles, giving the tough guy's guts a sharp squeeze.

A strangled moan tore from Colt's throat as he felt his guts clench and shift under my hand. I could feel his intestines writhing under the pressure.

"Mmmmh. You really like that, huh?" I sneered into his ear.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice desperate. "Please, more."

I released his intestines and removed my hand from his belly. His eyes followed my movement, his breath labored as I unscrewed the cap of the poppers. I held the bottle out to him again.

His thick belly inflated and deflated as he took a deep inhalation, the poppers rushing through his system once more. His eyes drifted shut, his head falling back as a low, pleasure-filled groan ripped from his throat. I watched, enraptured, as his powerful body fell fully, completely relaxed.

He looked like a god in that moment, his body glistening with sweat under the soft light filtering in from the window. 

I wanted to beat him down.

He looked at me, really looked at me, as he rode the high. "Okay," he breathed. "Do it again."

I placed my open hand on his upper belly, feeling his stomach under my palm. I drove my hand forward, pressing my hand into his gut and squeezing tightly. Colt's intestines squirmed and shifted under the pressure, his lower belly bulging outward as I clenched my hand into a tight fist within his upper guts, feeling his innards bunch up under my knuckles.

As I squeezed his upper intestines, Colt's lower belly bulged outward, his gut distending obscenely as his intestines were forced downward. I watched, mesmerized, as his gut expanded, his navel barely opening out in a way that made my cock and balls hungry.

And then, without warning, with my free hand I delivered a swift tap to his balls with the back of my fist. Colt's breath stuttered hard at the contact, his eyes widening slightly, but he barely flinched.

Still clenching his upper intestines with one hand, I pulled my other fist back and, with a violent motion, drove it into Colt's distended lower belly. 

My knuckles sank deep into his spongy gut, the meat enveloping my fist.

Colt's jaw fell slack in a silent cry, his eyes squeezing shut as he finally, finally, doubled over, his body folding in half as he crumpled toward me. I felt his hard cock press against me, and I knew, without a doubt, that he was feeling this as deeply as I was.

I was still catching my breath from the exertion of pounding his thick guts when he grabbed my hands and slammed me back against the wall, his body pressing against mine. I could feel his hard cock upon me, and I knew he was loving this as much as I was. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, and whispered: "My turn."

With his hands under my armpits, he lifted me clean off my feet. I let out a startled grunt as he body-slammed me onto the bed. The wind was knocked out of me, and for a moment, I was dazed, my body tingling from the impact. I felt Colt's weight settle on top of me, his hard muscles pressing me into the mattress as he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear.

"Stay still," he growled, his hot breath tickling my skin.

I heard the rustle of fabric as Colt grabbed something from the nightstand, and then felt the soft touch of rope against my wrists. He worked quickly but carefully, tying my wrists to the bed frame above my head.

Colt leaned back, admiring his handiwork, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath. I pulled against the restraints, testing their strength, and felt a jolt of excitement at the realization that I was completely at his mercy. My heart pounded in my chest.

Colt reached over to the nightstand and picked up the poppers, holding the small, dark bottle out to me. "Take a hit," he ordered.

I inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar rush wash over me. My head fell back against the headboard, my body sinking into the bed as the effects of the poppers took hold.

"Again," Colt commanded, his voice rough.

I did as I was told. I took another hit, and the world tilted on its axis. My body felt weightless, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the rush.

Colt's fist blazed into my navel, the impact blowing through my loose belly. "Fuck," I gasp. "That's—ungh—so good."

Colt's fist withdraws, and then, without warning, he slams it back into my belly, his knuckles grinding deep into my bowels. The impact sends a shockwave through my body, and I cry out.

He pulled his fist back and drove it into my gut again, and again, each blow more brutal than the last. I can feel his knuckles plowing into my intestines, my guts sloshing under the force of his blows.

Colt pulls back, his fist coated with my sweat, and delivers another vicious punch directly into my navel. The impact feels as though it blew my intestines apart and I cry out once more.

I could feel his fist buried in my soft navel, my upper belly bulging outward as his knuckles plowed into my middle gut.

He leaned forward. I felt his nose nuzzle into my armpit, inhaling deeply, and then he moaned, his voice thick with desire. "You smell so fucking good," he growled.

My body was humming, the rope cutting into my wrists as I struggled against my restraints. His fist was still embedded in my gut, his knuckles grinding into my soft insides, my belly submitting to his strength.

"Get these off,” I said, gesturing toward the ropes with my eyes.

Colt reached for the knots binding my wrists, his fingers expertly untangling the rope. I sit up, my body buzzing with adrenaline, and immediately deliver a sharp tap to his balls with the back of my fist.

His hands instinctively cup his sensitive balls, protecting them as his mouth falls open in a silent cry of pleasure and pain. Colt's eyes shut at the suggen impact, his breath catching in his throat, but he doesn't pull away. 

I don't give him time to recover. 

I shove him back against the wall, and without hesitation, I deliver an absolutely devastating uppercut deep into the bulging heft of his beaten lower gut, my fist driving deep into his soft belly.

I watched as my knuckles vanished into Colt's loose innards. It was a brutal blow, and his body reacted immediately. Colt's eyes squeezed shut even tighter, his head fell forward as a low, desperate moan ripped from his chest. I could feel his body trembling against mine.

"Fuck," he groaned.

Arousal surged through me as I twisted the cap off the poppers and brought the little brown bottle to my nose, inhaling sharply. I held the poppers out to Colt, and like a good boy, he leaned in for another hit.

I brought the open bottle to my nose and inhaled again. The sweet rush hit me, and I felt Colt's body press against mine, our chests and torsos flush against each other. I set the bottle down, my hands moving to his flat stomach, and began to methodically uppercut his gut as his mind and body were lost to the euphoric sensation of the poppers.

Over and over, my fist drove into his soft belly, my knuckles colliding with his lower intestines. Colt didn't shout or cry out; instead, with his head back, his breath was silently forced out of his body with each punch, offering only barely audible moans and grunts as he took each blow, his abs willingly doing absolutely nothing to protect him.

(What a fucking stud.)

The feeling of my fist sinking into his belly was like nothing else. His stomach was so fucking soft, so vulnerable, and yet he just took it. He fucking loved it.

The power dynamic was clear: he was submitting to me, letting me wreck his thickly muscular, gorgeous gut, and in that moment, I knew he was mine, at least for now.

(Fucking hell, this guy.)

Colt's body a wall of solid muscle against mine, and yet he let me abuse his gut with impunity. With each blow, I felt his intestines compress and shift beneath my knuckles.

He was breathtaking.

Colt and I locked eyes as I continued to pummel his navel, each blow inverting his loose gut as my fist plunged into it. His breath came in short, sharp pants as he endured a beating like a true champ. I could see the pleasure on his face as he presented an open mouth smile, the breath still forced out of him with each impact, as if he was playing a game of chicken with me: Which would tire out first, my arm or his tough intestines?

I knew he was loving this as much as I was.

Our bodies were slick with sweat and I could smell his musk, that strong and alluring undertone of pine still present.

With each uppercut to his navel, I watched his belly yield to the impact, his sturdy frame folding slightly as my knuckles sank deep into his relaxed stomach. His intestines were putty in my hands, and I relished the power I had over him in this moment.

I leaned in close, our sweaty foreheads touching, and whispered: "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you?"

"Yes," he breathed hoarsely. "Don't hold back."

Hmph.

I drove my fist back into his gut, putting my full strength behind the blow. The impact was demolishing upon his insides, my knuckles sinking deep as his belly swallowed my fist.

Colt's body jolted at the contact, his head and chest snapping forward as a pained grunt ripped from his throat. He collapsed against me, my muscular frame catching him.

I felt Colt's hard body press against mine, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. With a swift motion, he spun us, putting me against the wall, and held the poppers to my nose.

"Breathe, fucker," he commanded, his voice deep and sinister.

I did as I was told, inhaling the sweet rush. My head swam, my vision blurred, and my body buzzed with anticipation once again.

Colt's fist was a fucking battering ram as he launched a punch into my soft lower gut. "Unhg!" I cried out, my eyes rolling back as white-hot electricity erupted in my belly. It was a devastating blow, and I felt my knees buckle as my body crumpled, but Colt was there, his arms wrapping around me, holding me up.

For a moment, we stayed like that, my body folded over his arm, my head resting against his muscular shoulder. I felt his chest heaving as he, too, struggled for breath.

And then, with a gentle but unwavering motion, Colt lowered me to the floor. I felt the coolness of the wood against my back, my body fully relaxed as I looked up at him.

Colt stood over me, his frame blocking out the light, his biceps bulging as he flexed, and I knew, without a doubt, that he was in control.

Colt stood over me, and goddamn, from the floor, he was huge. I felt small under him, a rare sensation for a big guy like me, and my heart started hammering in my chest as adrenaline surged through me.

His stomach was ripped, his abs etched across his chiseled torso, but in that moment, I wasn't looking at his abs. I was looking at his arms, those thick, powerful biceps flexing as he posed for me.

He was a fucking beast.

Colt's eyes narrowed as he took in my gaze, his lips forming a cocky smile as he posed, showing off his strength. He knew what he was doing to me, the effect he was having, and he loved it.

He was a fucking alpha.

As he flexed, his huge biceps bulging, all I could think about was how we'd spent all night with those those powerful arms wrapping around me, holding me down as he drove his fist into my gut.

But then, as if reading my mind, Colt's smile softened, and his eyes flicked down to my own ripped frame, taking in my body; and for a moment, I felt as though he was taking in my physique the same way.

We said nothing, but we understood.

Colt's gaze flicked back up to my eyes, locking with mine, and he held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet, our bodies close.

I could smell his sweat.

I flexed my biceps, watching as Colt's eyes widened slightly in appreciation. That cocky smile appeared once more, and I knew he was loving the show.

"Worship my muscles, boy," I commanded, and I knew Colt would obey.

"Yes, sir," he breathed, his voice thick with anticipation.

I felt Colt's hands on my biceps, his palms sliding over the thick muscles, his thumbs tracing the deep grooves of my flexed arms. I watched as he nuzzled his face into my armpit, inhaling deeply, before placing a soft, lingering kiss against my sweat-slick skin.

"Your arms are so fucking huge," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin as he spoke. "So powerful."

I felt my cock move with his words. This guy knew exactly what to say to get me off.

Colt's hands slid down my arms, his fingers splayed as he took in the size and strength of my forearms. "You could crush me with these," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and desire.

"Maybe I will," I teased, relishing the power I had over him.

Colt looked up at me, his eyes glinting with challenge and arousal. "I'd like to see you try," he said, his voice steady.

I smiled, my eyes never leaving his. I grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled our bodies pressed together, chest to chest.

I pushed Colt up against the wall, my body flush against his. I flexed my pecs so he could feel the hard muscles against his chest.

Colt's breath caught in his throat as he felt my pecs flex against him. His hands moved to my chest, his fingers moving across the dense muscles. "God, you're built like a tank," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "Solid fucking muscle."

I flexed and relaxed my pecs, feeling the muscles contract and soften against his chest, and Colt let out a soft moan as he surrendered to the sensation. "Fuck, that's good," he breathed. "You have no idea how much I love muscle."

I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. "Then show me," I whispered, my breath tickling his skin.

Colt's hands moved to my shoulders, his fingers digging into the thick muscles. "I love it," he breathed, his voice hoarse with desire. "I love your powerful body. Your strength."

I felt his chest heaving against mine as he spoke, his heart pounding in time with mine.

Colt pulled me in and began to kiss me roughly, tasting himself on my lips. He went to push me back against the wall, but I turned us around at the last moment, lining him back up against the wall with me pressed fully against him, earning a grunt from him as I assertively pressed him to the wall.

As we continued to kiss, our hands explored our thick necks, meaty chests, and rippled stomachs. Colt still had a light sheen of sweat across his abdominals, and I felt my cock stir at the sight.

Colt's hands were on my back, his fingers digging into my shoulder blades as our mouths moved together. His breathing was heavy, his need for release evident.

"I want you to make me cum," he whispered between kisses. "Please, I need it."

I pulled back, my eyes locking with his. "Beg for it," I said, my voice low and demanding. "Beg me to beat the cum out of you."

I saw the challenge in his gaze. But he begged. "Please," he breathed as he placed his hands behind his head. "Punch me. Beat my gut ‘til I cum."

I stepped back, taking in the sight of him: I do love a powerful, confident man becoming a begging, desperate sub. "Again," I commanded.

"Make me cum," he said, his voice stronger now. "Beat my fucking gut until I shoot my load. Please."

I reached down and squeezed his balls, feeling them heavy and full in my hand. "You want me to wreck your gut?" I asked, my thumb applying slight pressure to his sensitive balls.

Colt spread his arms out wide against the wall, his eyes squeezing shut as he gave a profanity-laden plea for me to punch him in the gut. "I want you to fucking destroy it," he continued. "Beat me until I can't stand."

I squeezed his balls harder, my thumb and fingers applying pressure, and commanded, "Keep begging."

"Hard," he begged, his breathing growing frantic as I applied pressure to his balls. "Punch my fucking guts hard." His body language screamed his arousal, his eyes closed in bliss as I manhandled his full, heavy balls.

"You want me to beat you down?" I asked, my grip tightening on his balls. "You want me to fuck you up?"

"Yes," he gasped. "Wreck my fucking gut."

I brought my face close to his, our noses almost touching. "Keep begging," I sneered, my breath ghosting over his lips as I squeezed his balls even harder.

Colt opened his eyes, pleading, his chest flushed with arousal. "Beat my fucking gut," he whimpered between pained and frenzied breaths. "I want to suffer."

I gave Colt's balls one last squeeze, feeling his body tense as a strangled moan escaped his lips.

Fuck, his balls are heavy, I thought.

I slammed my fist into his lower gut, plowing into his intestines with brutal force. Colt groaned as the air rushed from his lungs. His mouth fell open, panting as his body reacted to the devastating blow. A hard moan finally escaped him.

I pulled back for another swing, plowing my knuckles into his lower intestines again. His eyes rolled back, his lips parting as a pained groan escaped him.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, his voice thick with need.

I could feel Colt's bowels compressing for me. His abs still offered no resistance as I brutalized his belly, and he let out a desperate whimper, his strong body quivering against the wall.

Colt's cock twitched with each punch, his body reacting to the intense sensation of his intestines being crushed against his prostate as I kept a firm squeeze on his balls. He was so close to the edge, and he knew it.

I pulled back, delivering an absolutely devastating cross punch straight into his lower gut. My fist sank into his belly and Colt's body jolted, his legs nearly buckling.

Colt's eyes squeezed shut as a low, deep groan rumbled in his chest. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum—"

I delivered one last, insanely violent punch to his lower gut, my fist driving deep into his swollen intestines.

Colt's body convulsed as a powerful orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing as he shot his load, crying out.

I let go of his balls, and Colt slid down the wall, his body folding as he struggled to catch his breath, his spent cock still leaking cum.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a soft, breathless laugh.

I smiled, feeling my own arousal peak. This guy was something else.

Colt opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine, and in that moment, something shifted. His brow settled, and a smirk curled onto his face.

Colt stood and pulled me into a bear hug, and for a moment, we just stood there, holding each other, our laughter softening.

But then… 

"Beg," he commanded, his voice low and intimidating.

I felt a rush as I realized he wanted to flip the script. This confident, powerful man wanted me to beg.

"Beg me to beat you," he continued, his voice relentless. "Beg me to wreck your fucking gut ‘til you shoot."

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as I submitted to him. "Please," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Beat my gut. Punch me."

Colt's smile widened, and I knew he was enjoying this. "Again," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Beg me to make you cum."

"Make me cum," I begged, my voice gaining strength. "Crush my fucking guts until I cum for you. Please bro, don't hold back."

Colt shoved me back, a glint of challenge in his eyes. I staggered, my pecs bouncing with the force of his push, and he approached, his intent clear.

He shoved me again, and again, each time enjoying the show of my muscles moving under my skin as I stumbled backward until I was firmly against the wall.

Colt pressed himself against me, his body pinning me to the wall, our chests touching, our legs tangling.

His hand reached down and wrapped around my balls, his grip firm but not squeezing. I froze, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through me at the thought of what he might do. I felt vulnerable, and it excited me.

But Colt didn't squeeze. Instead, he smirked, clearly aware of the effect he was having on me, and slid his hand further back, his finger pressing against my asshole.

I nodded, granting him silent permission. Colt slid a finger into my ass, gently working it in and out as his other hand formed a fist.

Colt began to knead my soft belly, his fist sinking into my relaxed stomach, his finger probing my ass. I felt his finger twist inside me as his fist moved in a slow, sensual rhythm within my gut.

I was at his mercy and I loved it.

I moaned as Colt slid a second finger into my ass, my body opening up for him. I groaned, feeling myself accommodate his intrusion.

Colt worked his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, scissoring them inside me as he searched for—and found—my prostate.

"Fuck," I whispered, my eyes rolling back as he began to massage it. I felt pre-cum forming at the tip of my cock as he skillfully stimulated me from the inside.

My arms moved behind my head, my biceps flexing as I exposed my armpits, a silent invitation.

And Colt accepted.

I felt his tongue against my skin, licking the sweat from my pits, his fingers and fist never stopping their dual motion in my ass and gut. His stubble tickled my skin as he inhaled my musk, and I shivered. I felt his hot breath against my pit, his lips placing soft kisses against my sweat-slick flesh.

His fingers twisted inside me, his fist working deep into my pliant gut as his tongue flicked out, licking at my armpit, tasting my musk.

"You smell so good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking manly."

I moaned, my head falling back against the wall as he worshiped my body. I felt his fingers probing deeper inside me, his fist kneading into my relaxed gut, and my cock throbbed in response, aching for release.

His fingers continued massaging the sensitive gland as his tongue laved my armpit, when, without warning, Colt delivered a brutal punch to my gut, his fist plowing into my soft insides harder than before. I felt my intestines compress beneath the force, my body folding over his fist as the air rushed from my lungs.

But he didn't stop.

Colt's fist hammered into my gut again, and again, each blow crushing my intestines, my body collapsing around his fist just for me to voluntarily straighten back up. I felt my belly bulging with the swelling of my beaten guts, my abs offering no resistance.

Colt's tongue flicked out, licking the sweat from my armpit, his fingers twisting inside me as his fist brutalized my soft belly.

"You like that?" he breathed, his lips brushing my skin as he spoke. "You like me pounding your fucking guts while I finger your ass?"

"Fuck yeah," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Don't stop."

Colt's fist drove into my gut again. I felt my intestines squeezing against his fist, my cock throbbing in time with the punches. My body was screaming with pleasure.

I could feel Colt's fingers inside me, probing, exploring, his fist pummeling my gut as his tongue worshipped my armpit. Every touch, every punch sending waves of pleasure through me.

Colt's fist hammered into my gut once more, his fingers twisting inside me, and I felt my orgasm building, a coil of tension winding tight within me. My balls drew up, heavy and full, and I knew I was close.

The punches to my gut got heavier, each impact driving the air from my lungs. My intestines felt like they had finally been beaten into submission.

I whimpered, my body quivering as he delivered another overwhelming punch to my unprotected gut. It felt like his fist was driving straight through me, rearranging my insides. My intestines felt like they were being flattened, crushed beneath his relentless fist.

"Oh, fuck!" I cried out, my body jolting.

Colt continued to massage my prostate as his fist hammered into my gut, and my legs nearly buckled. It was like he was reaching inside me, squeezing my intestines and prostate at the same time. I felt a coil of tension winding tighter and tighter, my body begging for release.

"You ready to cum?" he whispered, his lips brushing my skin. "Cum for me, Leo. Shoot your load."

His fist plowed into my guts again with a series of deliberate, hard, solid impacts. My legs were shaking as a powerful orgasm ripped through me. I felt jets of cum shooting from my cock, my body convulsing with each punch, each squeeze of my prostate sending me higher.

Colt's fingers probed inside me, his fist hammering my gut in time with my pulsing cock. My body was alive with sensation, every nerve ending screaming as I rode out the orgasm.

Finally, Colt's fist drove into my gut one last time, and my body shuddered as I cried out, my spent cock throbbing and leaking cum.

Colt removed his fingers from my ass, his fist no longer pummeling my gut, and pulled me into a passionate kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth.

I pulled back from our kiss, my eyes catching movement through the window. A soft orange glow painted the Manhattan skyline.

"Holy shit, the sunrise…" I laughed, nodding toward the window.

Colt turned, his eyes widening. "Goddamn, we really went all night…" He ran a hand over his hair, a grin spreading across his face. "Time flies."

We both laughed at the absurdity of it all. My guts ached as I chuckled, reminding me of the brutal beating they'd taken.

Colt stumbled back and collapsed onto a small sofa, his muscular frame sprawling across it. I fell back onto his bed, feeling the soft sheets against my sweaty skin.

"I could make us some espresso," Colt offered, gesturing toward his kitchen. Then he paused, reconsidering. "Actually, why don't we grab breakfast? I know this great spot around the corner."

"Yeah, breakfast sounds perfect." My stomach growled at the thought of food.

"We should probably shower first though." Colt pushed himself up from the sofa. "You can borrow some clothes from my closet if you want. We look about the same size."

We headed to the bathroom, not saying a word as we stood together under the warm spray of the shower. I was still trying to process everything that had happened. This man was incredible—a total badass with a body to die for and a gorgeously rugged face. And he was into gutpunching.

I stole glances at him as he stood there, water cascading down his chiseled torso, his eyes closed as he tipped his head back, clearly lost in the sensation.

His cock gave a faint stir as the warm water hit it, and I felt my own react, my muscles tensing. Even soft, his body was a work of art. His pecs were broad, his six-pack ridged yet relaxed. Strong thighs and powerful calves completed the picture of perfect masculinity. Fuck, I wanted to sink my fist into his gut again.

Colt opened his eyes, catching me looking, and smiled. It was a warm smile, intimate and inviting. "You gonna join me, or admire the view?"

I stepped under the showerhead, feeling the hot water on my skin as Colt reached for the body wash. He worked up a lather in his hands, and as he began to massage it over his chest, his eyes focused on mine, holding my gaze.

The intimacy of the moment seemed to pause time. The water pounding on my shoulders, the scent of his body wash filling my lungs, his eyes locked on mine—it was overwhelming. I felt a connection to this man, and it scared me a little.

Colt's eyes flicked down to my stomach, taking in the mess of red that covered my gut. He brought his soapy hands down, gently stroking my beaten abs.

"Fuck, it's even redder than I thought it would be," he said softly.

I placed my hand over his, our fingers tangling as I ran my other hand over his equally marked-up stomach. "You too," I whispered.

Colt took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, his eyes closing as he savored my touch. He seemed to be experiencing the same rush of emotion that I was, and it made me feel vulnerable — yet powerful — at the same time.

I began to gently massage his soft abs, my fingers digging into his yielding flesh. Colt leaned back against the shower wall, sighing as he gave himself over to my touch. His gut was so relaxed, his muscles loose and compliant.

His eyes drifted shut as I worked my fingers into his soft belly, massaging his beaten, aching guts. His skin, dusted with a sexy layer of body hair, was so giving, and I loved the way his muscles offered no resistance. 

His arms rested at his sides, his body completely and utterly relaxed. I worked my fingers in slow, deep circles, massaging his swollen gut. Colt sighed, his head tipping back as he let out a breathy moan, his powerful body at my mercy.

The thought crossed my mind to sink my fist into his gut again and enjoy the feeling of his loose insides, but I pushed the urge aside. I wanted to take this slow, to enjoy the connection I felt with him. Besides, his body was beaten enough for one night.

Colt's cock slowly began to stir, my hands on his relaxed belly seemingly arousing him. It twitched, then hardened, and Colt chuckled, his eyes still closed. "Can't help it," he murmured lazily.

I smirked. I wanted to give him pleasure, to show him just how good it could be. I stepped closer, wrapping my fingers around his length, and began to slowly jerk him off.

Colt's eyes flew open as he looked down at me, his brow quirking in surprise, but he didn't stop me. I kept my left hand massaging his beaten stomach, gently kneading his swollen bowels as my right worked his cock.

Colt closed his eyes again, arching his back slightly as he enjoyed the dual sensations. Water rushed down his body, cascading over my hands as they massaged his belly and worked his shaft. I leaned in and captured his lips in a passionate kiss.

Colt's mouth opened to mine, our tongues tangling as the kiss deepened. I felt his hands come up to grip my shoulders, his touch electric. Our tongues danced, exploring each other as the hot water fell around us, soaking our skin.

I broke the kiss, nibbling and sucking at his nipple as I worked his cock, my hands never stilling. I felt his cock throbbing in my grip.

I increased my pace, jacking him off with purpose as his cock swelled in my fist. Colt groaned, his head falling back against the shower wall, exposing his neck. I took advantage, biting and kissing my way down his throat as my fist flew over his cock, squeezing and pulling.

Colt's guttural groan reverberated through the bathroom, his body tensing as I quickened my pace, my left hand relentless in its deep massage of his soft gut.

With a cry, Colt came, his body convulsing as cum spurted from his cock, his meaty abs flexing involuntarily beneath my hands as he rode out his orgasm. I slowed my pace, gently working his sensitive cock as his body relaxed, my left hand never stopping its slow, deliberate massaging of his stomach.

Colt's eyes fluttered open, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders, steadying himself. He held my gaze, his eyes intense yet soft.

I grinned. "Don't worry, you don't have to reciprocate. I just really wanted to."

Colt laughed, a deep, rich sound that reverberated through his powerful chest. "Well, damn," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Let's wrap this up and go get some breakfast."

He took my head and kissed me on the forehead.

We both laughed, turning our attention to rinsing each other's bodies, reveling in the feeling of clean, warm skin. As I dried Colt off, my hands paused on his stomach, taking in the canvas of red that adorned his gut.

"Fuck," I whispered, my fingertips gently tracing the center line of his six pack. "I beat the hell out of you, didn't I?"

"I loved every fuckin' second of it," he assured me, his eyes shining. "And I didn't hold back either."

I quickly ran my fingers through my damp hair, "styling it" by just running some conditioner through it — with Colt's buzz cut, he didn't have need for pomade in his dopp kit. Pulling on the borrowed clothes, I admired how well they fit - the dark denim hugged my thighs just right, and the navy flannel paired perfectly with the henley and quilted vest.

"Well?" I turned to Colt, doing an exaggerated spin. "How do I look in your clothes?"

Colt's eyes traveled up and down my body, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Damn good. Almost better than they look on me." He chuckled, pulling on his own coat. "Almost."

We grabbed our beanies and shoes, bundling up against the winter chill. The elevator ride down was quiet, but comfortable.

Stepping out onto the street, snowflakes drifted lazily through the early morning air. The city was just waking up on Saturday morning, still peaceful and hushed under its white blanket. I pulled my coat tighter, watching my breath fog in the cold.

My mind wandered as we walked. Last night had been incredible — better than I could have imagined. But was this just a one-time thing? 

The way Colt looked at me, touched me, made me hope there could be more. I wanted there to be more.