My Bullies - Chapter Thirty-Two

Diego left without a word.

The bedroom door closed softly behind him, leaving Ethan alone on the bed—naked, trembling, Diego’s cum still warm and leaking slowly from his hole. He curled onto his side, heart hammering, mind reeling from the silent, possessive way Diego had used him. He didn’t know how long he lay there, breathing shallow, cock still aching and denied.

The front door opened downstairs.

Heavy footsteps. The faint scent of sweat and gym rubber drifted up the stairs before Caleb even appeared.

Caleb stepped into the room shirtless, gym shorts low on his hips, skin glistening, hair damp. His chest rose and fell from the workout. He stopped in the doorway, eyes flicking over Ethan’s flushed, marked body.

Ethan sat up quickly, guilt flooding him.

“Caleb—I… Diego was here. He… he fucked me. I didn’t know you weren’t coming back, I—”

Caleb chuckled, low and amused.

He crossed the room in three strides, cupped Ethan’s chin, tilted his face up.

“I know,” he said simply. “I told him to come.”

Ethan blinked, flustered.

Caleb’s thumb brushed his swollen lower lip.

“You’re the group’s toy now, princess. Any of us can use you whenever we want. Mason, Tyler, Diego—they all get their turn.” His voice dropped, darker, possessive. “But you remember who the leader is. Who owns you first.”

Ethan swallowed hard. “You.”

Caleb’s smile was slow. “Good boy.”

He stripped off his gym shorts, cock already thickening. His body was slick with sweat—pits dark, chest gleaming, the musky scent strong and heady.

“Clean me,” Caleb said. “Tongue bath. Every inch.”

Ethan moved instantly, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He started at Caleb’s feet—licking the arches, sucking each toe, tasting salt and skin. “Thank you for owning me, sir,” he whispered between licks.

He worked upward—calves, thighs, the crease of groin. Caleb’s cock hardened fully as Ethan’s tongue traced the V of his hips. He buried his face in Caleb’s sweaty pits, licking deep, moaning at the raw, masculine taste.

Caleb groaned softly, hand in Ethan’s hair.

Ethan spent twenty full minutes worshipping—sucking on Caleb’s balls, licking the underside of his cock, tonguing the sweaty crease behind them, then pressing his face between Caleb’s cheeks to rim him slow and deep. Every inch of Caleb’s post-gym body was cleaned with Ethan’s tongue, the humiliation only making Ethan’s own cock leak harder onto the sheets.

When Caleb was satisfied, he pulled Ethan up and led him to the bathroom.

The shower was hot and slow.

Caleb washed them both—hands gentle now, soaping Ethan’s smooth skin, rinsing Diego’s cum from his hole with careful fingers. He kissed Ethan under the spray—deep, claiming kisses—while their bodies pressed together.

Afterward, Caleb dried them both with the same towel.

He dressed Ethan in the sluttiest clothes from the underwear bag: tiny black shorts that barely covered his ass, the outline of his cock visible through the thin fabric, and a cropped white tank that ended just above his navel, exposing the smooth shaved skin of his stomach.

Caleb dressed himself in only black boxer-briefs and a plain white tank, muscles still pumped from the gym.

He looked Ethan over, eyes dark with possession.

“Perfect,” he said, thumb brushing Ethan’s lower lip.

“You’re not leaving today.”