THE HIGH TABLE

Tiberius Stone
I shouldn’t be here. But I’ve never been good at staying away from the places that feed my demons.

The Pánoptikum reeks of old sweat and older secrets. Beneath the flickering gaslights, shadows stretch along tiled walls that once echoed with steam and whispered confessions. Now they resonate with something darker. The echo of fists. The groan of bodies. Grunts twisted by pleasure, or pain—or both.

Six months. That’s how long it’s been since I let Johann Brakkus talk me into a favor that nearly destroyed everything. Some cocky little upstart, some connected kid who didn’t know when to stay down. I could have killed him. Nearly did. Didn’t know back then who had his leash. But I do now. James Cannon. A name whispered behind closed doors. A spider spinning threads through men like me, through cities like this.

So I vanished. Dropped the name. Burned the trail. Forged papers. Took up space where no one would think to find Tiberius Stone—at least not by that name. But I still have my needs. Still crave sweat, and fists, and the raw, grinding violence that makes sense when nothing else does.

The Pánoptikum takes care of those needs. Fights downstairs. Flesh upstairs. All invitation-only. Men who want to be tested. Or broken. Sometimes I fight. Sometimes I fuck. Sometimes, if the night is right, I do both. This place… it stirs old memories. Of a time when I wasn’t alone. When another man moved like shadow and fire through these same tiled halls. But those thoughts are poison now. Dangerous. And I’ve got no use for danger I didn’t choose. 

Dream Breaker
Tiberius, Tiberius... you are hiding from the world, hiding from those who are looking for you, and I can tell you that they really want to find you and are willing to pay a lot, a lot, so much that it makes me wonder—why? What have you done, Tiberius? Why is an important, influential, and extremely wealthy man willing to pay anything to find you? You are handsome and charismatic, I admit, but there are many men like you in the world. Why Tiberius Stone?

Cole may be the most influential man I've ever met, but he would never have been able to find Tiberius unless Tiberius himself wanted it, or someone who knew Tiberius set a trap, betrayed his trust, and brought Tiberius out into the open. And that man is me, Alex Cava.

I know him well, I could even say that there is an invisible bond between us that connects us even though we are on opposite sides of the world. We are like powerful magnets that draw each other together. If I were Tiberius and wanted to disappear from the face of the earth, I know where I would go. And that place is not far from here, only 250 miles from Budapest: PRAGUE! That city is meaningful to both of us; it is where we first met, and it has served as a protective shelter for many of our encounters.

And I have three options where to find him, places we've frequented in the past, places where I know he would lurk:

Catacombe Nero – Secret Gym & Combat Sex Dungeon (under Vinohrady): Accessible only by invitation and a descent down a rusted freight elevator. Rumor has it, it was once a Soviet interrogation site—now a labyrinth of sweat, leather, and blood. Tiberius could be training there, keeping sharp... or finding bodies to break. I know the way—I´ve bled on those mats before.

Pánoptikum – Disused Bathhouse Turned Secret Fight Club (Žižkov) Stone is a fighter. And where better to stay sharp in the shadows than an abandoned bathhouse, its tiled halls now echoing with groans and body slams? Candlelit, steamy, and brutally intimate. The regulars speak in code. I may need to bribe my way in or...

Or The Den – Private Men's Fetish Club (Old Town, underground) Hidden beneath a crumbling baroque building, this invite-only leather and combat fetish club caters to a secretive elite. No signage. No phones. Just bouncers who remember faces. It's known for its underground wrestling nights, where submission isn't always the goal—but domination always is. I recall this as one of Tiberius' haunts from long ago.

He'll probably have to hide for a long time, so the place should meet all his needs, and Tiberius won't compromise on that, I know it. I close my eyes and move my thoughts to those places like a psychic trying to find you in his visions. Then I open my eyes, calmly, and a smile spreads across my face. Pánoptikum! The old bathhouse. I'm coming, Stone!

The train journey from Budapest to Prague takes exactly 6 hours and 41 minutes when I arrive at Prague hlavní nádraží railway station. I can almost smell your sweaty body, Tiberius. My heart beating faster tells me that you are close, very close.

Tiberius Stone
Marek Dvořák. That’s the name I wear now. Strong. Local. Forgettable.

I pulled it from the gravestone I found in a local cemetery. It was off in the back, no family plot, just a lone grave. Poor bastard probably had no legacy whatsoever. That’s what I needed. Someone no one would come looking for. That name gets nods here in Prague, the kind that buy silence. And I work hard to keep it that way.

I keep the lights low in this flat. Cold tile underfoot, no windows that face the street. The gym mat in the corner smells like blood and pine resin. I drop to it for a last set of push-ups, my knuckles cracking against the mat. Every rep pumps fire through my chest, arms, shoulders. But it’s not enough. It’s been a few weeks since I went out to seek what fuels me. The beast in me is restless. I’ve gone too long without release—the kind that only the Pánoptikum offers. I towel off, swipe the sweat from my beard, and slide into my hoodie. The forged ID tucked inside the lining feels like a hidden blade.

I step out into the Prague night. The wind bites, but I like the sting. Keeps me alert. Reminds me I’m still hunted. Still alive.

The Pánoptikum is tucked into the bones of the city—discreet, windowless, half-forgotten. A bathhouse with ghosts in the pipes and rules written in moans and bruises. I pass the gate with a glance. The doorman’s seen me before. Never speaks. Smart man. Steam hits me like a wall the moment I cross the threshold. The smell—sweat, oil, sex—wraps around my senses, coiling like memory. My body reacts instantly. Blood rushes low. My thick cock swells. Breath slows. I don’t speak as I undress. I don’t need to. They watch me as I move. I’m a shadow now. I’m not Tiberius Stone.

I am Marek...

Inside the chamber, bodies move like slow fire—slick skin on tile, eyes that dare and beg in equal measure. I choose one. Broad chest. Eager mouth. A fighter, maybe. A fool. He follows me down a side hall without hesitation. No names. No rules. Just muscle and need.

I use him. Hard. Quiet. Controlled. A rhythm carved from years of violence and raw hunger. I don’t let go easily—but when I do, I leave him wrecked against the wall, gasping, shaking, coated in the proof of what I took. I rise, breath slow. Heart steady. He’ll remember me. But he won’t know my name...

And outside, someone is asking for a ghost. Tiberius Stone. Poor bastard. He doesn’t know that man’s disappeared into the shadows... 

Dream Breaker
The Pánoptikum is not difficult to find if you know where to look for it. To enter, it's a whole different story since you need an invitation. Last time I needed to 300 euros to get in and they knew I was the friend of Stone. This time it wouldn't be necessarily that simple. My fears turned out to be justified as standing in front of the door was a bald, rather unpleasant-looking guy I hadn't seen before.

I ask him most politely about Stone, Tiberius Stone. He is listening to me without saying a word. "Fucking sake!", I say to myself when I dig out my wallet. "How much?" - deep silence, the bald man doesn't say a word - "500 euros?", I ask, still politely, flashing him the note. The man looks at me like an old rotten cabbage and finally speaks, "You ask too many questions".

I look to the right, then to the left and finally behind me. Nothing, just the rain and some stray cats next to the waste container. I turn to look at the nice man again and flash him my most charming smile as I hit my forehead into his face and my sympathetic knee into his guts, most politely. He would like to moan as he folds forward greeting again my knee which slams forcefully into his open mouth, stifling his moaning. I slide my hands around his stocky body as he gets limp and slowly collapses into my arms. "Free entrance tonight", I say to myself as I drag the nice man behind the container.

I enter the Pánoptikum which looks exactly the same as the last time I was here, and it's been years. I wait for a while in the entrance hall, adjusting my eyes to the dim lighting before moving on. In the corridors I meet men who would scare the shit out of an average citizen with their appearance alone. The men follow me with their eyes as I continue forward towards the sounds of what could be a torture session or sado-masochistic group sex or maybe both. I'd love to go along but first things first, I need to find Tiberius.

Tiberius Stone
I left him wrecked and wheezing on the slick tile, steam curling off our bodies like smoke after a fire. His moans echo faintly behind me, but I don’t look back. That was a warmup—nothing more. My appetite’s barely scratched. I rinse off at the corner basin, ice-cold water shocking my skin, chasing away the haze of release. My cock still hangs thick, swollen, as I wipe it clean with a nearby towel. I don’t bother hiding the smirk curling across my mouth—he’ll be sore for days, and still beg for another round if he ever catches sight of me again.

Towel slung low across my hips, I step into the main corridor. Dim lights buzz overhead. Steam rolls in waves, clinging to the cracked tiles and the stench of sweat, leather, and lube. I breathe it in. This place is pure—raw need, nothing masked. No questions. No names. Just bodies crashing, flesh slapping, fists flying. It's why I come back here, time and time again. I round the corner toward the lockers, thinking I’ll strap up—maybe the pit downstairs tonight, maybe take on two. I’m restless. My muscles throb for violence, for domination. But then I hear it...

Murmurs. Someone asking questions. Asking about Stone.

The name alone cuts through the haze like a blade. Not Marek. Not the man I've become. Stone. I stop. Every muscle clenches. My jaw locks. It’s been months. I’ve been careful. So careful. Burned every trace of that name. And yet someone has come sniffing. Digging. I slip into the shadows where the steam thickens and the lights don’t reach. My breath slows. My heart doesn’t. Someone’s stupid enough to look for a ghost in a place built for monsters. Well, someone that stupid won't be walking out of here...ever. 

Dream Breaker
It was stupid of me to ask about you. The men here aren't the talkative type; rather, there's a kind of unwritten rule that prevails, a brotherhood that protects each other from outsiders. And sure enough, I soon felt like an outsider, a stranger who couldn't be trusted. I felt eyes following me deeper into the corridors, which smelled of sweat, blood, and sperm. As the passage narrowed, I suddenly realized I was between two hairy titans. They didn't say a word, just stood there in the narrow space, one in front of me, the other panting his stinking breath down my neck.

“Hledáte někoho?“, the man in front of said with a guttural voice, another one who hasn´t brushed his teeth for months, asking me if I was looking for someone.

„Možná, ale omluvte mě, moje čeština není moc dobrá.“, I replied with my terrible accent telling him my Czech was not very good.

The social event was over when I struck the soft spot between the pectoral muscles of the man behind me with my elbow, and before he even had time to bend over, my elbow made contact with his Adam's apple. My free hand had already managed to grab the hairy chest in front of me, squeezing and twisting it in my fist as if I wanted to rip it off the man's body. I heard a thud and a rattling sound behind me as another man fell to his knees, gasping for air.

The eyes of the man in front of me bulged and his knees were about to give way. "I'll only ask you once. STONE. Where can I find him?" The man could barely utter a word, but finally managed to reply, "Neznám nikoho jménem Stone. Ale je tu muž s dlouhými tmavými vlasy a vousy. Není to Čech, i když se jmenuje...”. My Czech is bad, really bad but I understood him “I don't know anyone called Stone. But there's a man here with long dark hair and a beard. He's not Czech, even though his name is...”. He was pointing to the room at the end of the corridor. I smiled. I released his balls and gave him a good head butt in the face. My sympathetic and helpful friend hit the back of his head on a stone wall and slumped to the ground for a short nap.

I stepped into a room filled with steam, leather, and sweat. The sounds of fists and whips stopped as the men in the room turned to look at me. None of them were Stone, but I knew I was close—very close—as my gaze shifted to a shadowy corner of the room that was shrouded in steam. I stepped toward the corner, accompanied by silence and the stares of several pairs of eyes fixed on my back. "Stone, finally."

Tiberius Stone
The scent of blood hits me before the sound does. Faint, metallic, just beneath the heavier air of musk, sweat, and mildew. I hear it next—the sharp gasp, the thud of a body hitting tile, a brief cough swallowed by silence. Then the dragging weight of heavy footsteps down the corridor. A ripple moves through the room. I don’t shift.

Steam curls thick around me, veiling my corner like the breath of a sleeping beast. My body is loose, relaxed… but inside, I’m coiled tight. That name—Stone. I hear it. Not whispered. Not mistaken. Spoken. Louder than it should be in a place like this. And in that moment, something raw flares in my gut. My cock stiffens as I let the towel slide from my lap, pooling around my hips. Not from pleasure. From purpose. Whoever this man is, he’s tall. Broad. Built like he belongs here. But I don’t need to see his face. He made the mistake of hunting a shadow. He takes one step too close...

In an instant, I’m on you. My hand clamps around your wrist like iron, twisting hard. Your eyes widen, but I’ve already spun you around, forcing your arm high up between your shoulders in a tight hammerlock that makes your body jolt against mine. My other hand fists in the back of your hair—thick, dark, familiar—and cracks the side of your head against the cold stone wall. "Špatné místo, příteli," I growl in Czech, low and feral against his ear. Wrong place, friend.

My chest presses into your back, as I grind my cock against your ass through the fabric of your pants. You try to push back. I don’t let you. „Přišel jsi do špatnýho zasranýho místa, kámo,“ I growl in Czech against your ear — You’ve come to the wrong fucking place, mate. I jerk your head back by your hair, force you to listen. „Ten chlap, kterého hledáš, už neexistuje,“ I snarl. The man you’re hunting doesn’t exist anymore. „A jestli nebudeš opatrný… neodejdeš odsud tak, jak jsi přišel.“ And if you’re not careful… you won’t leave here the way you came in. 

Dream Breaker
You bend my arm behind my shoulder blades in a hammer lock and show me your strength, your power. I wouldn't have expected anything else from you. Despite the pain, I smile and push my thick glutes against the front of your towel, feeling your thick masculinity beneath it, ready, hungry, maybe even curious. "You speak Czech well, but your accent gives you away... Stone." I rub my buttocks against your bulge, feeling your reaction grow stronger between your legs. "Do you recognize me now, Tiberius? Did you miss me?"

Slowly, as if hesitating, you loosen your grip and release my arm. I turn to face you, your arms still around me, as we gaze at each other silently for a moment. "Why are you here again? Are you running away from something or someone? You? The mighty, fearless Tiberius Stone, or whatever your name is. What or who could be so scary that it makes you disappear into this sewer? Why didn't you contact me? I might have been able to help you. I can help you!"

Tiberius Stone
Your voice slices through the steam like a knife—familiar, cutting, impossible to forget. That cocky tone, the push of your glutes against my cock, the scent of sweat and ego and something older… it all crashes into me at once. “Alex. Fucking. Cava.” I spit the name like venom. My hand drops from your arm as you turn to face me, and there it is—your smirk, your arrogance, that glint in your eye like you’ve already won something I haven’t offered. I exhale hard, jaw clenched, everything in me surging forward. I grab your hips, shove you back against the tiled wall—not to pin you, but to measure the weight of you again. “It’s you.”

I press in close, letting you feel just how much you’ve stirred under my skin. “The man you’re after—he’s gone. Burned out and buried.” My fingers tighten around your sides. “You didn’t come here by chance, Alex. You’ve never moved without purpose. So I’ll ask you once—who sent you?” I stare hard into your eyes, no smile, no play. “Because you don’t crawl into the Pánoptikum after six fucking years just to see how I’m holding up. Someone wants something. And I don’t believe for one second it’s just my cock.” 

Dream Breaker
"You don't believe I came here just for you? Or for this!" I chuckle as I grab your stiff cock through the towel and squeeze it gently. "How insulting". I let you hold me tight, there's something familiar about it—and strange, yes—but also something safe. I remember countless sweaty moments with you, battles against a common enemy, battles between us, battles in bed. We are two alpha males who could never stand each other for more than a couple of days, but who also couldn't be apart from each other completely.

Your tight grip on my body, your serious stare—that face—and the memories make my cock harden in my shorts, forming a huge bulge that rubs against your lower abdomen. "You're right, my friend, someone wants to find you and maybe sent me to bring you to them." I squeeze your thick cock through your towel more tightly, possessively... "Can we go somewhere more private? To talk..."

Tiberius Stone
I groan low in my chest as your hand tightens around my cock. It’s not just the touch—it’s the weight of our shared history that surges up through my veins. Pressing harder into you, my thick frame pins yours to the cold stone wall. Your scent hits me, familiar as the taste of blood and sweat in a fight. The curve of your chest under my palms, the hardness in your shorts grinding against me—I remember it all. But I don’t trust you, not even now, not with that confession. Someone sent you, and if they think I’m still Tiberius Stone, they’ve already miscalculated. Still, I play into the game.

“You’re overdressed for this place, Alex,” I mutter, my breath hot against your ear. My hands slide down your slick chest, tracing the sweat-slick muscle until they reach the waistband of your shorts. I grip, rip, and force them down over your thick muscular thighs, letting them drop at your feet. I slide my face across yours, tongue tasting the sweat that's been building up. I stare into your handsome eyes, grinning. I know how much you like my smile. Our lips meet, your mouth opening to invite me in. I kiss you—hard. Tongue claiming yours, my stubble scraping your skin, your moan vibrating into my mouth. I break it off with a grunt, hand gripping your cock and balls, my fingers tightening just enough to make you flinch. “Yeah… we’ll talk,” I whisper, voice low and rough. “But if you’re here for anyone but yourself—if you think you’re gonna use me to impress your new boss—you’ll leave this place broken.”

Stepping back from you, my muscles are tensed, towel still barely hanging loose around my hips, cock hard and slick against my abs. The air between us throbs with heat and history. I turn and walk toward the shadowed corridor that leads to the upper level—my domain. “Private floor’s through here,” I call without turning. “No one follows unless I say so.” I know you’re already moving behind me, with your eyes locked on my glutes, flexing with each step I take. 

Dream Breaker
I follow you, but not too closely, so that I can clearly see the outline of your buttocks through the towel as you walk toward your private domain. Oh fuck, how I've missed your roughness, your alpha essence I love to face to see if I can bend it, or if I will be the one dominated. With you I never know, all I know we both need it, we both long for it.

I follow you to the upper level. Your domain wasn't much of a place, a dimly lit room with a bed and a small table. I have to admit that I don't pay much attention to the decor of your domain because there's something much more interesting in front of my eyes, especially when I grab the towel around your hips and pull it off you. You turn around, and there it is. A thick, veiny cock that could kill a man.

"Tiberius, let´s talk later", I whisper grabbing you by your arms pulling you against me.

Tiberius Stone
The ante room’s thick with heat and tension, the tile floor warm beneath our feet. Dim lights overhead cast long shadows across the faded stone walls. It’s just the two of us in this small, quiet space. Three doors line the far wall. Two marked red. One still green. 

You step in behind me and yank the towel from my waist without hesitation, your hand grabbing at my arms like you think you’ll pin me right here. But I’m not yours. Not yet.

I flex hard, arms exploding with power as I break your grip like it’s nothing. Your hands fall away, and I turn my head just enough to let you catch the profile of my jaw, my tight expression. I let you take in the sight—thick back, broad shoulders, flexing glutes tight with every step as I walk slowly toward the green-lit door. You’re staring. I can feel your eyes glued to my ass, hungry. “Not here,” I say, deep and certain. “You want something from me, Alex—you’re gonna have to earn it.” I don’t wait for your answer. I open the door and glance over my shoulder. “Come.”

The red light flips on behind us as the door shuts, sealing us in. The suite beyond is spartan and discreet—matte black mattress centered on the floor, two padded benches against the far wall, and steel hooks and racks with restraints for those who need them. No frills. Just what we came here for. I don’t look back at you as I step in, bare and deliberate. My cock is thick and heavy, half-hard and growing. I know you’re watching, and I want you to. I stop by the bench, turn, and finally face you. “You want to talk?” I ask, stepping closer, chest rising. “Then start with your body, not your mouth.” 

Dream Breaker
My mouth drops down in surprise when I glance at the room. It´s not hard to guess what kind of activities you have had in this place. Knowing your preferences, the way you act in intimate moments between men and your coarse nature conjure up images that inflate my manhood into a thick, throbbing stake that wants to slam into you, nail between your powerful glutes. Memories flood my mind of moments with you when we fought for carnal domination, where there was neither winner nor loser. There were just two intertwined males fighting until, exhausted and sweaty, they finally lay down on the ground side by side, satisfied and content.

I look at your face, trying to interpret your expression, which I used to be able to read better than your words, but the temptation is stronger and my eyes wander down between your legs, now completely naked, to your erect penis. A small flash in your eyes tells me that you have noticed my weakness, as you have so many times before—it's no secret to either of us— 

"All right, let's speak a language we both understand, where words are unnecessary," I reply, and I lower my shorts, kicking them away between us. I wrap my arms around your waist and let our cocks kiss each other, hugging like two friends who haven't seen each other in a long time.

Tiberius Stone
You press your cock against mine and wrap your arms around my waist, and I feel the years collapse between us. We’ve fought side by side in blood, sweat, and silence—on battlefields, in alleys, behind closed doors. No other man’s body knows mine like yours does. Your scent hits me—familiar, charged—and my instincts flare. Gripping your waist tight, in one fluid move, I spin and slam you against the concrete wall. The impact echoes, but you don’t flinch. You take it, your eyes locked on mine, hungry. My chest grinds against yours, sweat slick between us, and our cocks strain, trapped and throbbing between hardened muscle.

My hands roam your torso, dragging across your thick pecs, down your abs, fingers digging in like I’m claiming territory I never truly gave up. I lean in and press my forehead to yours, breathing hard. “You’ve filled out,” I grunt. “Didn’t think it was possible.” You grin, grinding your hips up into mine, challenging me, trying to take control. I growl low in my throat and grab the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss—rough, urgent, desperate. Our mouths crash, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for ground. This isn’t gentle. It never was. It’s a battle dressed up as a reunion.

I break the kiss and drop my mouth to your neck, biting hard before sucking the skin, tasting the salt of your sweat. You moan, or maybe it’s a growl—I can’t tell anymore. One of my hands grips the back of your thigh and lifts your leg around my waist, while the other fists into your hair. Our bodies grind in a brutal rhythm, both of us fighting to control the pace, the position, the dominance. I shift, pinning your arms back against the wall, my chest pressing yours harder. You’re just as strong as I remember—maybe stronger—but you’re not winning tonight.

I drag us both toward the bed, never breaking contact, never letting your cock leave mine. We fall onto it, muscles tangled, our weight shaking the frame beneath us. I press my forearm across your throat, just enough pressure to remind you who’s on top. “You want something from me,” I murmur, grinding my hips into yours. “You’re gonna bleed for it. But first…” I lower my mouth, biting your chest, then sucking hard. “…you’re gonna beg for it.” 

Dream Breaker
Our cocks seem happy to see each other again. They hug and kiss each other, they slam themselves against each other with brotherly force, arousing desire in each other. "You're gonna bleed for it." ...your teeth bite deep into my thick chest, demanding, possessively sucking my blood like some men I met in Bucharest, whose immortality didn't last beyond a broken neck.

"You're gonna beg for it." Maybe so, even though I know I'll get it anyway, just like I always have. I know you, Tiberius, you have to get what you need, and I'm going to give it to you.

I lie beneath you, your thick arm pinning me to the bed. You are stronger than ever, and I don't just mean physically, but the masculine strength that has grown during your time in hiding. But you are still Tiberius, and I know you, I know you better than anyone else.

I stare into your black, deep eyes. Your thick cock is pressed between our hard abs, I can feel it pulsing, dominant presence. It's time to raise the stakes, to test your will, your desires. I cling to your powerful buttocks with my hands, pulling you tighter against my crotch as I push my hips forward. My hungry cock slides below your hairy balls, rubbing deeper between your legs, pressing against that soft taint with my cockhead. "Tiberius, I beg you."

Tiberius Stone
You say the word—beg—and that’s it. I snap. My hand wraps around your throat, not to choke, but to hold you still. I grind down, our cocks slamming together, wet, thick, and pulsing between us. The taste of sweat and want fills the room. My mouth crashes into yours, not gentle—biting, demanding, full of the heat you came here for. Your legs tighten around my waist, your body arching up, trying to take more of me. Grabbing your wrists I pin your arms over your head with one hand, hips grinding into yours slow, heavy, controlled. My cock drags across yours, veins rubbing, flesh fighting for dominance. “You came all this way for me?” I growl. “Then fucking prove it.”

I break the kiss, drag my teeth along your jaw, and slide lower—tongue and teeth marking down your chest. I bite deep into the meat of your pec, hard enough to leave a bruise, maybe more. Your back arches under me and I shove it flat again, chest to chest, sweat mixing between us. My hand fists the back of your thigh, spreading you wider beneath me. You groan, the sweet sticky fluid leaking from your cock mixing with mine, and I answer with a low, primal sound that rumbles deep from my gut. Our foreheads locked together, as we both work to catch our breath. “You don’t come into my den and play games, Cava. You’re here for me—then I’m taking every fucking inch you brought.” My hips grind again, deeper, slower, crueler.

I press my full weight down on you, forcing your body to accept the rhythm I set. Every thrust, every shift of muscle, is mine. Your fingers claw into my back, and I let them—let you hold on as I claim what’s been burning between us since the day we met. You’re trying to meet my pace, but I won’t let you. I pin you again, chest flexed against yours, forcing you still as I thrust and grind, our cocks caught in the friction. You gasp, curse, bite, but you don’t stop me. You never could. And when you start to break—just enough—I lean in, lips at your ear. “You’re not leaving this room without giving me what I want, Alex. And I’m not talking about your cock.” 

Dream Breaker
This was the moment I had been waiting for, and everything was going according to plan. Tiberius' resistance crumbled moment by moment, broken by his own desires. This was the delicate moment when I had to play my cards right, tighten and loosen the rope, guiding him without him noticing. And everything went exactly as I had hoped. Tiberius wanted to be in control, and I allow him to do so, on certain terms, up to a certain point.

I want you to feel like you're controlling me, I want you to control me. I pull my hips back, breaking the contact between our cocks, and push my fingertips deep into the muscles of my back. "I know that, Stone, and I want it. I want to give you what you want, what you crave, what you need," I whisper in your ear as I lift my hips higher, feeling your thick, impatient cock slide into my deep crack, surrounded by thick, muscular mounds. Your whole body stops, paralyzed as you feel the soft entrance against the tip of your precum-soaked cock. We look into each other's eyes... "Do you want it?" I ask and kiss your forehead. "You know it's yours if..."

Tiberius Stone
Your words stir something primal, but they also flash warning in the back of my mind. You always had a way of mixing truth with manipulation, luring me in while laying traps. And now, mid-fuck, I feel the same rhythm playing out again. The way you press into me, the invitation, that whispered offer with a dangling condition. I lean over you, chest against your back, and growl in your ear, “You talk too much, Alex.” My hands tighten around your waist, gripping the thick shelf of muscle above your glutes. I don’t ask again. I don’t need permission. My hips slam forward, my cock pushing past resistance as I force myself deep into your tight, hot channel. You grunt, your fingers clawing the sheets, but you don’t pull away.

I move with control—every thrust heavy, full, deliberate. Your body takes it, strong as ever, but I feel the subtle shifts in your tension, the way your breath stutters when I hit deep. My hands roam over your lats, your lower back, feeling the full strength beneath your skin. I’ve known this body better than any man alive. And right now, I need to own it again. Your ass clenches around me and I growl low, biting down into your shoulder—teeth scraping skin, not holding back. "You came here with a plan, didn't you?" I say, voice low and ragged against your ear. “That’s fine. But you’re not walking out of this room until I’ve wrung every truth out of you.”

Your body shudders beneath mine, the rhythm between us growing harder, rougher. My cock drives into you, not rushed, but relentless. I dig one hand under your chest and pull you up against me, your back to my torso, your neck exposed as I drag my lips across your jaw. Sweat slicks our skin, muscles grinding, the heat between us sharp and undeniable. “You want to play games?” I whisper, my voice steady but tight with breath. “Then you better hold on.” My hips surge forward again, your weight bracing against me. This isn't about tenderness. This is control—claimed, earned, taken. And you’re going to give me exactly what I need. 

Dream Breaker
We've been in this situation so many times before, and I don't think you'll be surprised for a moment by what happens next. I won't fight you, I'll let you go deep inside me, I'll wait for you eagerly, and when I feel your thick cock finally reach the bottom, it tightens my buttocks and the muscles around your cock. Your body is vibrating. You push your cock determinedly back and forth inside me as my soft walls cling to it demandingly. I squeeze my outer ring while loosening the tissue around the head of your cock, making a wave-like motion around your throbbing cock, milking it.

My hands squeeze your strong buttocks eagerly behind your back until I slowly slide one of them into the crack between your cheeks. Your body jerks once when you feel my fingertip pushing into your hole and finally entering you. "Tiberius, show me your manly strength," I whisper breathlessly as I shove my fingers deeper inside your darkness until I reach that soft spot and take it gently between my fingertips. My ass keeps on milking your expanding shaft as you moan louder and louder behind my neck. I scream as I feel your teeth sinking into my neck telling me you have reached that moment, that moment you give me your alpha seed. My ass keeps on milking you making sure it collects even the last drop of that warm thick substance.

Your cock is getting softer when it´s time to reveal my real surprise: Cava wants MORE! My fingertips grab a tight but gentle hold of your prostate and squeeze it softly between them as the wave-like motion returns to work over your cock. I am not surprised to feel how you grow hard again somewhere deep inside me. “Give it all to me. I am Cava, not just some slut of yours. I want it all!”

Tiberius Stone
You shift beneath me again, but this time there’s precision in your movements. I feel your body tighten, not in resistance—but in control. Your hips grind up into mine with practiced rhythm, and your grip around my back holds me exactly where you want me. Your canal massages my hard and throbbing cock...milking me with precision. My muscles tense, trying to hold back the wave building in my gut, but your timing is too perfect. I growl low, frustrated and aroused, as you work every angle of contact between us. My cock throbs deep inside you, and your body knows it—coaxing, drawing me to the edge. I try to slow down, but you push harder, faster, until I lose the fight. My throat howls a deafening bellow of pleasure as I release into you, every muscle in my body jerking, heart pounding, breath ragged.

Collapsing forward, I work to pin you beneath me, to reassert control, but your legs wrap tight around my waist and your hands slide up my back, fingers between my glutes, and then probing inside me. They start to massage my prostate, working it as you hold me close, still moving beneath me. Keeping me hard, keeping me inside you. You’re not done—I might be shaking, but you’re just getting started. Your eyes lock with mine and I see it—that flicker of satisfaction, the quiet confidence that you’ve tilted the balance. I shift my weight, trying to push up and slow you down. Your thighs flex, and keep me anchored. My cock twitches again, still buried, still alive, and I feel the next wave threatening. You arch under me deliberately, lips brushing my ear. “Give it all to me...I am Cava...” you whisper. You know just what fucking buttons to push.

I grit my teeth, fighting to keep focus. My hands move to your chest, trying to press you back down, but even that feels like surrender. Your control is too well timed, your body too well tuned to mine. You rock beneath me again and my breath catches—my muscles twitch, and I realize I’m losing ground. You’ve broken me before, but not like this—not when I was trying to stay ahead. I clamp your wrists and force them back above your head, holding them to the mattress. “Don’t mistake this for weakness,” I snarl, even as my hips grind involuntarily into you. But I know you're gaining the upper hand...and in this moment, I don't fucking care. My cock pulses again inside you...getting ready to explode again. 

Dream Breaker
Beads of sweat fall from your face onto my neck as you pant passionately behind me. Your cock expands inside me as if it's about to explode as I rise to my knees, exposing more of my ass and pressing my chest tightly against the sheets. This small movement gives me more leverage as I can use my hips better. Your body is still pressed tightly against mine as I pull my hips forward. You follow my movements as I suddenly thrust my hips backward with force, making your cock drill even deeper with almost violent force. I feel your thick, warm release inside me as your fingers dig tightly into my pecs. Hopefully you can´t see my smirking face.

Your body tenses up on top of me and you growl like a breeding lion. In half a minute, your muscles relax again, but you are seriously mistaken if you think this is over. My sphincter muscles don't relax, but tighten tightly around the base of your cock. Your body jerks once as I lift my butt higher, keeping you tightly inside me, the walls of my canal wrapping around your shaft, squeezing it, trapping it. Many men have tried in vain to pull themselves out in this situation, as my powerful pelvic and buttock muscles hold your cock captive.

I’ve been known to fracture a man’s cock with the muscles of my canal. I know very well that you could break my grip with your manhood if you wanted to, but you stay firmly on top of me as I feel you growing hard inside me again. I sway my hips around your cock as I start milking you again. You let out weird sounds of pleasure as you try to move your fighting soldier inside me back and forth, to regain control. It's time for Cava to take the fight to the next level with some tougher weapons.

My left hand slides back between your buttocks and along the familiar path deep inside you, gently rubbing your prostate. You tremble involuntarily as my fingertips take hold of it again. My channel pumps you inside me harder and harder for several minutes until I feel your thick shaft begin to throb. Time for Cava's special move. I reach my right hand between my legs toward you until I find what I'm looking for: your hanging, swaying balls. I cup them with my hand as I take a firm hold of them, squeezing them gently as if I was trying to pump your seed out of them. And that is actually just what I am doing. Your brave soldier inside my canal is expanding again and it´s willing to surrender.

Tiberius Stone
Your hold on me is calculated, precise, every move designed to pull more from me than I want to give. My lungs burn, chest heaving, the sweat from my pecs dripping down onto your back. You continue to work every sensual part of my body like a master, years of experience together you guide. I let out a howl as you grab my balls. Those low, full, heavy hangers that you love so much. You knead them in the palm of your hand, and it gives you the response you are looking for. My teeth find your trap again, biting down hard as my body surges, my cock swells inside you and erupts, spilling into you for the second time. You take it like you’ve taken everything else in this room—deliberately, like it’s a win. But I know you too well. Every flex, every squeeze, every grope and deliberate stroke is about more than just getting me off. My palms dig into your glutes, spreading you wide, and I pull free, refusing to give you another second in control.

I hook my arms under yours, muscles straining as I flip you onto your back and push your legs up over my shoulders. My cock, still slick and heavy, slides against the curve of your glutes. My load leaking from your hole, still wet and slick as I press inside you again, my hips slowly thrusting as my glutes flex in rhythm. I press my weight down into you, chest to chest, until our faces are inches apart. You’re breathing hard, but your eyes are steady, watching me, measuring me. I lock you there, pinning your hips with mine, letting you feel that I’m ready for more. “What the fuck is this about, Alex?” My voice is low but hard. “You didn’t track me down for a fuck. You can get that anywhere.” My grip on your legs tightens. “So why here? Why me?” I need answers, and I know how to fuck them out of you if need be.

You let out a grunt and smirk as I enter you again, but I see the flicker of calculation behind it. I’ve seen that look before—right before you make your move. I lean down, forearms braced on either side of your head, pressing you to the mattress. My breath is hot on your face. “Don’t play me,” I warn. “Not after all this time.” My hips continue to thrust and grind, slow and deliberate, keeping the pressure high. “If you’ve got something to say, now’s the time.” I want answers, and I’m not letting up—not until I know exactly what game you’re playing. And if it’s the one I think it is… we’re not done here, not by a long shot. 

Dream Breaker
Then you are back. Just as I thought you would. Taking control, dominating me, showing your alpha power and strength. You want to know the truth though you kind of know it already. You just don´t know the name, not yet. But then you do what I wanted you to do: you take me, you enter me with your conditions, demanding my body, my tight sperm lubricated canal. And you don't negotiate about it. You take it.

I must admit I am a bit surprised by your stamina. I feel you still rock hard inside me drilling deeper and deeper. I smile, inside, not showing it to you, as I see you so serious, so focused on fucking the truth out of me, literally. But your own desire makes you to forget the task as you fuck my leaking hole with ferocity. I wrap my legs around your hips and lock my feet behind your ass cheeks pulling you closer . "Tiberius, someone is looking for you. Someone rich and powerful. I don´t know why, to hire you or to revenge something. Let me ask you why are you hiding?", I manage to ask between my moans.

Tiberius Stone
Your words hit like a hammer, cutting through the haze of sweat and strain. My hips freeze for a second, the weight of what you’ve said sinking in. Rich...Powerful...Looking for me...to hire me??? NO...revenge...YES!!!! And then you all but confirm it. Cannon. My muscles tense, and I slam forward again, more out of rage than desire, the force of it making the bed frame jolt. “You fucking fool, Alex,” I growl, eyes locked to yours, voice raw. “You’re in league with Cannon?” The name tastes like venom in my mouth.

As the revelation of your true intentions is finally revealed, my cock explodes and I unleash a final load deep into your muscular canal. My chest heaves as the last pulse of release tears through me, but the anger cuts deeper than any pleasure. I press you harder into the mattress, my hands gripping your thighs like I could hold you there forever. My cock still throbs inside you, but the fire in my gut is no longer just physical. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” My voice is low, dangerous, every word deliberate. “You just brought a war to my doorstep, and you don’t even know what the hell you’ve signed up for.” I push my hips forward one last time before pulling free, standing over you, muscles taut, my thick cock still rock hard and leaking, ready for whatever comes next. 

Dream Breaker
You've got a look of disappointment and rage on your face, but there's something else there too that I can't put my finger on just yet. You pull your thick, still throbbing cock out of me as all your cum starts to leak out of my hole. I sit up in front of you, looking into your eyes, not saying a word, until I finally stand up. I can feel your thick seed running down my thighs toward the floor as we stare at each other.

Suddenly, I grab you by the throat, squeezing my fingers around your Adam's apple. "League with Cannon?" I push your body back and remain silent for a moment, watching the effect my words have on you. "I brought a war to your doorstep?" I add pressure around your throat, stepping closer to you. "I don't know what I've signed up for?" I lift my knee up with force, nailing it to your low-hanging, exhausted balls.

"You should know Cava doesn't ally with anyone, Cava doesn't bring war to anyone's doorstep—you did that all by yourself—and Cava hasn't signed anything that can't be changed—Cava follows his own path. You of all people should know that!" I shout angrily, finally slapping your face with my open palm. "I am disappointed in you, Tiberius!"

Tiberius Stone
You move with the speed and skill of a trained assassin. The second your hand clamps around my throat, I know what this is. It’s not about the fight—it’s about breaking me so you can drag me to Cannon like some prize. The thought rips through me, hotter than the burn in my lungs. I wrench at your wrist, but your grip is locked in, cutting off my air and flooding my head with white noise. Your words hammer at me—your denial, your self-serving bullshit—like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as me. My chest heaves, rage building under the suffocation. “You son of a bitch,” I rasp. My body spent from the loads I've left in you, the oxygen getting cut off to my brain, dulling my reflexes. I falter, allowing your knee to drive up between my thick trembling quads, and everything implodes into pain. My body folds but my fury doesn’t bend.

Your grip is still crushing my throat, each second making the edges of my vision tighten, but it only throws more fuel on the fire. I drive my fist into your obliques, twisting my hips into it for every ounce of power I’ve got left. The impact jolts through you, but your hand stays clamped on my neck, forcing me to fight for air. My other hand shoots up, clawing at your forearm, trying to pry you off while I surge forward with my weight. My chest is heaving, my voice ragged, but I manage to grind out, “You don’t get to take me alive,” I snarl, the words sharp and cold. “If Cannon wants me, he can come himself—but you?” I lean into you again, daring you to make your next move. “You just burned the last bridge you ever had with me, Cava.” 

Dream Breaker
You are weaker than usual, there's no doubt of that when your counter attacks lack strength that is usually so characteristic of you. I tighten my grip on your throat, squeezing your windpipe as you push us back. My back slams against some annoying rack that I didn't even realize existed before. But my grip on your throat remains as I bring my face closer to yours and suddenly kiss your lips. "I don't want you dead, you are my partner in battle against the enemy and between the sheets. Through your harsh essence I can sense your soul, a breeze that brings with it the memory of the spring, the taste of green almonds. I couldn't burn this bridge but you have to tell me why Cole wants you."

"So stop fighting back, trust me Tiberius and you will see that all will be good again. You don´t need to hide yourself from the world". I stop and remain silent watching your face, trying to find any agreement on it. You stare at me silently, not believing me - yet - as I pull back my free arm and without blinking, slam my fist under your thick pecs, aiming that softer spot there. Your eyes widen in pain and confusion as my blow nearly crushes your solar plexus. "I am so sorry my friend but you must come with me"

Tiberius Stone
The air is ripped from my lungs as your fist buries into my gut, my abs failing to hold against the force. The blow drives bile up into my throat, burning as I choke against it. Your grip on my neck is unrelenting, fingers clamped down like steel, cutting off what little breath I’ve got left. My vision blurs at the edges, as my head gets heavy, but I force my eyes to stay locked on yours. Through the haze, your words cut through—the name you let slip. I shake my head slowly, forcing sound past my crushed larynx. “No… Alex… no… not ‘Cole.’” My voice is hoarse, strained, but filled with venom.

I grind the words out through clenched teeth, my throat screaming from the pressure. “Cannon… James fucking Cannon… he’s the man who’s after me.” The name tastes like blood in my mouth, bitter and dangerous. My body strains against you, but I’m weakened by all you have done to me...physically...sexually..., and I can feel it in the way my muscles respond—slower, less precise. My hands push at your wrist again, more to keep the pressure from crushing my windpipe completely than to break free. “You don’t know what you’ve stepped into,” I rasp, my chest heaving against your hold. “And if you take me to him… you’re signing my death warrant.” 

Dream Breaker
I raise my eyebrow, tilting my head slightly as I listen to you and loosen my grip on your throat. "How do you know we're talking about the same man here. You've never been much of a model citizen and I would imagine there are plenty of angry men trying to find you. Come here big man, let me convince you, make you feel better", I smile and grab the back of your head with my free hand pulling your face closer. I kiss your forehead and see you closing your eyes. "Tiberius, trust me. All will be good". I stay silent and I pull my head away from you to see your face better. I'm completely silent until you open your eyes. Without any hesitation I slam my forehead into your face, almost stunning myself. Your nose is bleeding and you look confused. "You're coming with me, whether you like it or not!", I break the silence by shouting in your face while slamming my elbow against your temple.

I release my stranglehold on your throat and watch you fight bravely on the brink of consciousness until you finally fall slowly to your knees. The great Tiberius kneels before me. My cock hardens slightly at the sight. 

From the pillar behind me, where I had previously hit my back, hang thick leather straps with ties at the ends. A wicked grin appears on my face as I move behind you and secure the ties around your wrists behind your back. To my surprise, you don't resist at all, not even when I tie your ankles with similar straps. I attach the belts to a winch chain hanging from the ceiling and start pulling you up until you're dangling helplessly at waist height. "If only you could see yourself, you look really sexy in that position," I laugh out loud.

Tiberius Stone
The kiss throws me for half a second—soft, warm, too familiar. For a fleeting breath, I think you might stop, that maybe I can pull you back from whatever this is. Then the hope’s gone—shattered in an instant. Your forehead smashes into my nose, a sharp, wet crack sending heat down over my lip. Before I can catch my balance, your elbow slams into the side of my skull. The room tilts hard, my body stumbling forward until I crash against you and drop to my knees. My arms feel heavy, useless, as you move behind me.

The straps are rough against my wrists, the leather biting in as you pull them tight. My ankles follow, cinched and locked before I can even shift my weight. The chain pulls on my arms and legs, the strain lifts me until my feet leave the ground. My shoulders burn as my weight hangs from them, chest heaving with ragged breaths. My head hangs forward, drops of blood spattering the floor beneath me. I allow my eyes to track up slowly, finding you standing there, watching me. There’s a look in your eye I know too well—control.

I try to focus, but everything is blurred at the edges, like I’m talking through water. The names slip out of me one by one, barely louder than a whisper—“Atlas… Brakkus… Davis… Cannon…” My eyes close for a moment before I force them open again, locking on yours. “…Cava.” The word tastes like bile. “The ultimate serpent… and the last face I see before Cannon gets his hands on me.” My voice is hoarse, but it’s steady enough. “You want to know why he sent you? This man you call 'Cole.' Fine. I’ll tell you… but when you hear it, you’ll wish you hadn’t found me.” 

Dream Breaker
Watching you hanging from the leather straps almost horizontally, swinging in the air and still acting as if you were in control, threatening me but we both know it´s me who dominates here - at least at the moment. I slap your massive glutes as I move between your wide open spread legs cupping your hanging balls, feeling them in the palm of my hand, weighing them. "Is that so, Tiberius? Be honest to yourself and admit that you wanted me to find you. You could have hidden from me in some place where I would never have known to look for you. But no, you chose a place where only I could find you". I lean forward and lick your thick glute.

"Tiberius, Tiberius, how I missed you. How I longed to be deep inside you like back in those days, ages ago, remember?". I step closer rubbing my leaking cock against your buttocks and slowly, very very slowly I lead the tip of my cock into that dark, deep crack and stop. "You want to talk Stone? You have something to tell me?". - I wait - and shove my eager cock deeper until I feel your stretched entrance. "You know my dear friend, you can always talk to me. Aren't we close enough to talk about anything? Now it´s the time to talk, my dear Tiberius", I hiss my words as I thrust my hips forward forcing my cock through your outer ring into your ass. You wrap around my shaft as I shove it deep inside you, my entire length hugged by your ass. "Talk to me, my friend. I am a good listener". I grab a hold of your waist and begin to move my warrior back and forth. "Talk, my friend!"

Tiberius Stone
I’m hanging there, my body stretched out and pulled tight by the straps, every muscle forced open and exposed. The pressure in my head eases just enough for my thoughts to cut through the fog. Your hand cups my balls. I let out a groan as you squeeze and knead them in your rough hands. Your touch is deliberate, meant to distract, to own the moment. My utterance is half pain, half the raw nerve of memory. GGGAAAHHHH...your thick shaft presses inside me, my canal tenses, then relaxes to accept you. Pressing your muscled body even closer, your heat and warmth envelops me. Your movements are slow and measured, pushing against me while waiting for me to break. The old history bubbles up between us—the fights, the nights, the grudges—burning under my skin. You want answers, and you’ll take them your way. My jaw clenches, but I start to speak.

“It started almost a year ago...with Atlas,” I grind out, my voice rough but steady. “Finally got him in the ring… punished him… fucked him… gave him the beating of his life. He deserved it after what he pulled all those years ago...not that the fucker even remembered me...or what he did.” My shoulders strain against the leather as I shift in my bonds, trying to keep my focus. “Brakkus showed up after that fight—first time I’d seen him since the streets of New York. Starts talking about some connected, rich bastard named Cannon. Said Cannon backed this kid, Tommy Davis, in a brutal underground fight, and Davis broke Brakkus in ways no one ever had. Johann wanted revenge. Needed me to help him bust Davis up.” I exhale hard, the sound low and bitter. “So I did.”

“I didn’t know how much Davis meant to this asshole Cannon… never met the man. But after that night, after I left Davis in pieces, bleeding in a dumpster behind some London bar, Cannon came for me. Sent muscle—the first set didn’t make it back to him. I’ve been keeping ahead of the rest ever since.” My core tightens, my glutes clenching hard around you, a sharp reminder that I’m still here, still fighting. My body sways slightly on the chain as your weight presses in behind me. “Until now,” I growl. My head turns just enough for my eyes to catch yours over my shoulder. “But...you’re telling me the man who sent you… wasn’t Cannon?” My voice is low, but the edge in it is sharp as a blade. 

Dream Breaker
Slowing the rhythm of my hips a bit, I listen to your story and realise that the man I met was actually Cannon. Your story turns a man like me on, making my cock throb inside you. I imagine how you defeated and fucked Atlas and nearly beat to death Cannon's protégé, Davis - I am leaking. I close my eyes and I can see your hairy face stained with Davis' blood, that angry, furious look on your face. I see your muscles tense, your biceps bulging as with each blow you destroy the young man. You're so fucking handsome when you're enraged, a fact I noticed long long time ago when I fought together with you. I watched you from the corner of my eye in secret and you gave me a painful erection in my tight pants every time. I think you even noticed it sometimes.

I open my eyes. You are there, this is not an image from my memory, you are there and I am inside you. I thrust my hips forward, this time demanding, wanting you to receive my seed. You must have felt the change in me as you moan louder. Your narrow hold tightens around my shaft when it happens. I sink my fingertips into your skin and thrust my cock for one last time forward with a force that hurts even my own balls as they slam against your buttocks. "TIBERIUS - YOU ARE MINE THIS MOMENT", I shout and erupt my thick man seed into your squirming ass hammering my hips with all my strength against your glutes. I don´t know how much time has passed when I finally wake up from my trance and slowly pull out my cock from your ass watching how my cum leaks out from it. You are quiet, we don´t say a word until I pick up my phone. "Is this Cannon?", I ask as I move in front of you and show you a picture of Cole on my phone.

Tiberius Stone
Your energy shifts the second I finish my story, like the images in your head are fueling every thrust. I can feel it in your grip, the way your hands dig into me, the force in your hips as you drive into me. My body tightens, involuntary, locking down around you as you reach your peak. Your shout fills the room, the heat of your seed spills deep inside me, before you slam forward one last time. My delts burn as my shoulders strain, as the straps around my wrists keep me hanging, chest heaving, sweat rolling off me as you finally pull free. The sound of it, the slow drag, is followed by the leak of your seed down my legs, hitting the cold floor beneath. My breathing is heavy, but my mind is starting to clear again, calculating through the haze.

There's a faint glow in the room as you step in front of me, your phone in hand, and the image flashes across the screen. Even bound, even drained, I lean forward to get a better look. I’ve never stood in the same room as James Cannon, but I’ve hunted enough of his shadows to know his face when I see it. “Yes,” I growl, my voice low and edged. “You fucking fool… yes, that’s him. That’s James Fucking Cannon.” My jaw tightens as I watch your expression. “And now you know the man you’ve been dealing with. The man who sent you for me.”

This is my opening, maybe the only one I’ll get. I pull my gaze from the phone and lock it on you. “Why, Alex? Why would he hide behind a false name? Why wouldn’t he tell you who he really is?” My voice drops, steady but laced with urgency. “If he lied about that, what else is he lying about? Maybe Cannon isn’t even his real identity. Think about it.” My throat is raw, the words almost scraping out. “Don’t do this. Don’t hand me over to him. Let me down… and we walk out together... you and me...like it used to be.” My body is still hanging in his straps, but my tone is solid—controlled—my last play to turn you before it’s too late. 

Dream Breaker
I have never heard you speaking like that, with that tone, trying to persuade me. Usually you just take what you want, don´t ask and now suddenly you sound strange. "Tell me Tiberius, are you really that scared of him? I mean he is a big guy too but he looked quite inoffensive when he sucked my dick, he hardly even grunted when I fucked him. Your eyes are darkening, just as they do each time you get angry. "What is it Tiberius, spit it out", I slap your face softly.

I move back between your legs, running my fingers slowly against the skin of your back. "I don't trust Cole...or is it Cannon...at all so you can rest easy about that. But you know me. He's offered a lot - a fortune - but I want more and nothing can stop me from taking it. And you know what, my dear buddy, you're going to help me do that," my voice is almost a whisper. I release you from the winch chain but keep your hands tied with leather straps behind your back. "Don't fight it and this will all be over sooner than you think."

Tiberius Stone
You mistake my words for fear, for some kind of weakness—and that pisses me off more than anything. My head snaps to the side from your slap, not hard, just enough to light the fire again. “You think this is about Cannon?” I snarl through clenched teeth, my shoulders rolling as I test the leather straps behind my back. “It’s about you, Alex. You—us.” My voice hardens. “But your greed always outweighed loyalty. It always fucking did.” You run your fingers down my spine and it sends a shiver through me, not from pleasure—but from rage that’s ready to boil over. “You want more? Then fucking take it—but don’t pretend this is anything but betrayal.”

My feet touch the floor as you lower the chains, but my arms stay pinned behind me. The second I find balance, I lurch forward, testing your grip, the strain biting at my shoulders. “You say I fear Cannon? I’ve stared him down without ever laying eyes on him. I know the kind of men he's recruited—Atlas, Davis, all the others under his thumb... and now you?” My eyes lock with yours, no hesitation. “I don’t fear him, Alex. But you, you broke something sacred the moment you accepted his offer.” I take a breath, my chest rising. “So no, this won’t be over soon. Not by a long shot.” 

Dream Breaker
Standing right behind you, grinding my cum soaked cock against your lower back while listening to your bitter words. "You fool, I would never betray you and how you even dare to compare me to some other guys, guys you beaten up and raped?", I shove my hand between your legs and grab a tight hold of your low hanging heavy balls closing my fingers around them. Your reaction is instant and there is no space for confusion, I have you by your nuts, literally. "Atlas, Davis, Cannon and perhaps some whore you have here in the sewer to please you in your most desperate moments.. and you fucking stubborn idiot dare to compare me, ALEX CAVA, to that scum?", I shout and twist your nuts violently stretching them backwards.

"Listen me carefully now, my friend. Do you really want to live your life like some dirty rat, in this dark sewer or get your pride back, be Tiberius Stone again, fight your life back and on top of that be well rewarded for all he made you go through?". I pause and let your nuts go. "Tiberius, I will help you. I will stand by your side and fight with you like always, like those good old days." I slide my hand into your crack rubbing your whole with my fingertip.."By the years you will turn into a slut of someone stronger, someone younger who will reign here", my hand balls into fist between your ass cheeks pretending as if I was going to thrust it into your ass any moment. "Think Tiberius... whore or warrior. - your decision -"

Tiberius Stone
My head drops forward, breath ragged, the ache in my balls radiating up into my gut like fire. Your grip still lingers in my nerves, even after you let go. My wrists are chafed red, muscles sore from being suspended, used, worked, violated — and yet I don’t break. I don’t beg. You press in behind me, your voice like a knife against my ear, testing me again. You’ve always had a way of turning pain into persuasion. And fuck, I hate that you’re right.

I’ve been hiding. From Cannon. From what we did to that kid. From what that beating I laid into Atlas will likely cost me. From everything I thought I was. And in doing that, I let someone else start controlling my life— someone like Cannon. That ends now.

I lift my head. My voice comes low at first, but steady. “You want an answer?” My eyes lock on yours. “I’m done running. If this is a setup, if you're still his dog, then fine — you’ve got me, and you take me in.” I strain against the cuffs, every tendon in my forearms flexing, my chest pulling tight as I force myself upright in the chains. “But if what you're offering is a chance to walk into Cannon’s house together and rip it apart from the inside, then I’m yours. You get me out of these fucking straps… and we go.” I breathe deep, blood pounding in my ears. “One last time, Alex. You and me. But if you betray me again… I won’t stop until your body is as broken as your promises.” 

Dream Breaker
Twisting once more my fist in your crack, pushing it closer to your entrance reminding you what your life could be like here. "Wise decision, buddy". I pull out my hand from your crack, and slap your glute hard, leaving a red mark in the shape of my palm on it as I give a kiss on your neck. "I won´t let you down, Tiberius. Together we can handle that Cannon". I open the ties releasing your hands and legs and take a step away from you, just in case and have a good look at you. Your long hair is a mess, it's wet with sweat, stained with semen and blood, but despite that, you still look damn sexy. "Those marks on your wrists and ankles will soon disappear" - my voice now friendly and calming.

I pick up my phone again, share our location with Cannon and send him a short SMS "Got him. Send someone to pick us up. Now". I turn back to you. "30 minutes, that gives us some time, anything you need to do before they get here?"

Tiberius Stone
I let out a growl as your hand slides out from between my flexed glutes, and grit my teeth as the circulation floods back into my arms and legs, the pain sharp, immediate, but welcome. My glare never wavers from you. I hear your voice shift — smooth, calculated — and I don’t buy it for a second. You’re standing there, cool and composed, like you didn’t just hand me over. Like this isn’t another betrayal dressed up in pretty words. I step forward without a word, my bare feet heavy on the stone, and before you can register it, I drop my shoulder and drive it straight into your core. The impact echoes off the stone wall as your back slams hard, your breath stolen. My hand shoots up and grabs your chin, slamming your head back again into the rock. Your eyes flash with recognition — not fear, not quite — but you know exactly what you’ve woken back up.

“There’s plenty we can do in thirty minutes,” I snarl, my breath hot against your face. “You want the old Tiberius? You miss the man who broke ribs in the ring and made legends beg for mercy?” My forehead crashes down on your nose, a crack and warmth that tells me I hit my mark. Your blood spills, and for once, it’s not mine staining this floor. “I’m not some relic you can collect and parade around for show. You don’t get to act like this was some fucking rescue.” My knee drives up hard, right between your thick quads, punishing those swollen, overstretched balls one more time. I keep the pressure there, grinding it in as you wince and twist. My forearm presses against your throat, holding you steady. “You don't look like you suffered enough, Alex. Cannon will smell a set up if we don't do something about it.' I chuckle. 'So if we go to Cannon together… I need to fix that. But if this is a setup, if you’re playing me — I will end you.”

I step back just enough to let you breathe, my hand still gripping your jaw. My knuckles are bruised, your blood drying on my forehead. My voice lowers, not softer — just colder. “You think you know what I’ve been through hiding down here? You think you understand what it means to be hunted by that snake Cannon?” I shove your head once more against the stone before releasing you fully. “If you’re serious about this, then we walk in together — and when the time is right, we take everything from him.” I run a hand through my tangled, damp hair, eyes sharp and wild. “But mark me, Alex… if I see one glance, one whisper, one move that smells like betrayal—” I lean in close, lips brushing your cheek, voice like a blade. “I’ll fuck your body in the dirt and leave what’s left for the rats.” I turn from you, breathing hard, jaw clenched, heart pounding — thirty minutes to war. 

Dream Breaker
My nose is bleeding, my balls are swollen in pain, my head dazed and humming, my throat bruised. You are threatening me, you look furious but you have a huge boner you don´t even try to hide. I look serious but deep inside I am smiling . The warrior is back - Tiberius is back -

Tiberius Stone
‘I never left, Alex…’ I growl at you, then plant my palm on your chest and slam you hard into the wall, the jolt rattling through your body. My forearm drives into your throat, pinning you there as I hammer a short, brutal hook into your ribs. You grunt, the air punched from your lungs, but I don’t stop — my other hand fists in your hair, wrenching your head back so I can crack my forehead into yours again. Your blood smears across my brow, the sharp copper scent driving me on. I ram a knee into your gut, folding you forward, then snap your head back with a savage uppercut that leaves you reeling.

You try to shove me off, but I trap your arms in a double underhook, muscling you around and crushing you chest-first into the wall. My forearm grinds across your face while my fist pounds into your kidneys, each blow drawing a strained gasp. I press my knee between your legs, leaning my weight into you until you stiffen under the pressure. Then I shove you forward, letting you stagger into open space before stepping in and driving a right cross into your lip, splitting it wide.

I square up in front of you, chest heaving, watching you straighten despite the fresh damage I’ve dealt. “We’re done talking,” I growl, my voice low and certain. “From here on, we will do this on my terms. No leash, no chains, no man dragging me anywhere. You want THE Tiberius Stone?” I jab a blood-stained finger into your chest. “Then you stand with me, or you fall under me. And if you even think about crossing me, Alex… you won’t walk away a second time.”

I take a step back, rolling my shoulders and breathing deep, letting the heat of the moment settle into something sharper. You’re marked up now—nose bleeding, lip split, ribs aching—and it feels right, like we’ve both paid the price for the shit between us. I nod once, slow, meeting your eyes without flinching. “Yeah… this feels like old times,” I say, voice steady but edged with that charge we’ve always had. “Two men who’ve tested each other, bled for it, and still stand ready to take on whoever’s next.” I jerk my chin toward you. “We go to Cannon together. We take him down together. And whatever comes after… we face it the same way we always have—side by side.”

Published: 2025-08-25, viewed 171 times.