Yes, Sir

Erotic short. A criminal accountant’s goon obeys his orders, then takes them a bit further.

3.6k, cis M/trans M, rated E. A criminal accountant has his big bear muscle guy fuck him, and the bear does so until the accountant is a whimpering mess. Vaginal sex, size difference, rough sex, objectification, implied overstim, power dynamics and role reversal, age difference.

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Avaricious Snape scares the shit out of Spencer.

He’s a diminutive man in his early fifties, small but compact, square. He’s called Avaricious because his mother was a King — and from what Spencer’s heard, one of the more dangerous ones, too. Beautiful King was a real mobster, ran guns, wore fancy suits, all of the rest of it.

You wouldn’t guess Avaricious was the son of a mobster to meet him, Spencer doesn’t think — he’s not frightening in a way that implies violence, or at least, not violence that he’d actually do to you himself. He’s scary like a spider is, maybe — it can’t really do you any harm, but it looks frightening, even the way they move, just them being in the room with you.

That’s what men like Spencer are for, really: Spencer is frightening in a more traditional manner. He’s big, he’s tall, he’s got a mean face, people tell him — strong jaw, big nose, dark eyes. He started going bald when he was pretty young, only when he was twenty-two, and he began to shave it just because he didn’t like how the bald patch looked. His dad had had a combover, and it had always looked a bit goofy.

Spencer doesn’t look goofy, not anymore.

Avaricious had picked him out of the warehouse muscle, had walked in and snapped his pretty, square, well-manicured fingers and demanded they all line up for him to look at, to examine. He’d stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, his lips pressed tightly together, looking over them, unblinking.

Spencer had been scared fucking shitless of the man — Avaricious has a way of talking that’s quite smooth (all his mother’s mobster money must have paid for really nice schools), with all these nice and fancy words, and a really even tone, but he’s so quiet that it had freaked him out immediately. He’d had to really strain to understand what the old man was saying as he’d walked up and down the line of them in the warehouse, and then up to Spencer.

He’d picked a piece of lint off Spencer’s hoodie, and wrinkled his nose at it, at Spencer’s tracksuit bottoms, his shoes.

“No suit, Mr Folse?” he’d asked in little more than a whisper, his mouth moving all deliberate, his eyes half-lidded.

“I was in the back,” Spencer had said immediately, too loud, and some of the lads in the line had laughed at him. “No one sees us.”

“Hands out of your pockets,” Avaricious had ordered cleanly, and Spencer had roughly pulled them out of the front pocket of his hoodie, putting them down at his sides and clenching them into fists before getting them to relax again. He’d never been good with inspections, or getting put in a line — he’d used to get spat on in PE, one of his teachers had properly hated him, bollocked him all the time. “Stand up straight.”

Spencer had lifted his head, straightened his shoulders.

Avaricious’ gaze had dropped to his tracksuit bottoms, and Spencer had been painfully aware in the moment of the bulge of his cock underneath the fabric, not shadowed by his hoodie now that he was standing up straight.

“Him,” Avaricious had said. “Have him ready for me, Monday morning.”

He’d been briefed on it all, on the job — driving for him, now and then, but mostly just going where Avaricious went, sitting outside his office, picking things up for him. Not really being his assistant, per se, and not being so serious as to be his bodyguard — just being there, visible, as muscle, when Avaricious went to meetings, went into the workshops, talked to people here and there. He’s not a mob guy like his mother was — he’s not directly involved.

Mostly, he manages other stuff, and two or three degrees removed, people do crime. Avaricious, he just owns nightclubs, and does the books for them, manages the payroll and all the employees, does some of the schedules; at the same time, he normally arranges for other people to meet in the places he runs.

It’s not enough involvement for the cops to bother him, usually, and when they do, that’s degrees removed as well — his books are clean as fuck, and it’s always the surveillance they want, and by the time they get the warrants, everything’s always wiped away.

Other people, though? Criminals, mob guys, just tough cunts who want to have a go? Especially the latter?

He gets them more regularly, and then they see Spencer, and then they fuck off.

Or, sometimes, they do try to have a go. They don’t try to have another.

“You killed a man once, didn’t you, Mr Folse?” he’d asked one morning.

“I’m not killing anybody for you, Mr Snape.”

“I would never ask you to, Mr Folse. I do my own killing.” He’d said it sort of matter-of-factly, airily, even, casually, had gestured with one hand like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t even important.

That’s the sort of thing that makes the man so fucking scary.

“Oh,” Spencer had said. “But — Yeah. My PE teacher, Mr Holmes.”

“You didn’t mean to?”

“No. Didn’t even get brought up on charges, he’d beaten me a lot, and I think the jury thought he had it coming. Didn’t do it on purpose — he went to hit one of the other lads at a practice, and I smacked his hand away, and he tripped, broke his neck. His lawyer was right nasty, wanted to lock me up, but the judge was nice. Most of ’em were — nice, really. For being law, like.”

“You’re a very strong man, aren’t you?”

His tone had been soft, considering. That was the first time he’d looked at him like that, Spencer thought — he’d glanced at his cock a few times since the first time, but he hadn’t examined him in the same way, hadn’t really looked at him. Wanted him, just yet.

It’s been a few months since then — Avaricious watches how he moves people, when they try to fuck with the old man, try to come at him or go for him. His martial arts classes had been funded for him, when he was a kid — not mandated, exactly, but everyone had wanted him at them, to learn how to use his body, to handle his own strength. He tends to hold people back or hold them still until they go quiet and give in — doesn’t really like to go for chokeholds or blows to the head or any of that sort of thing if he can avoid it.

“Do you fuck other men, Mr Folse?” Avaricious asks him. It’s late at night, and Avaricious is taking off his watch and putting it in the tray, sliding off his rings, then unbuckles his belt.

“Sometimes,” says Spencer, his mouth dry.

“Good,” says the old man, and gestures with one finger. “Follow me.”

It doesn’t even occur to Spencer to say no or even to hesitate. Avaricious is an older man, and scary, but he’s attractive, too — he was pretty when he was a young man, and there’s something fussy about the way he carries himself. He’s vain in a way that Spencer can’t help but be delighted by, find affection for — he often looks at his reflections in windows and mirrors as they pass them, fusses over his grey hair, neatly trims his moustache and goatee. He puts foundation on sometimes, when he has cuts from shaving, or bad spots.

Spencer has hookups, sometimes, but they’re normally just twinks or t-girls around who want a good, strong top, just want him to pin them down and really fuck them. It’s nice. People can be a little brisk, sometimes, sort of stand-offish, business-like, but he doesn’t mind — he doesn’t normally try to find dates anyway, just one-off bits of NSA. He works long hours, and his work is hard, and he doesn’t know that he’s that interested in dating anyway, but a hook-up is nice from time to time.

The thing is —

The thing is, he likes the people he meets, chats with, fucks, but he doesn’t normally have long enough to get really attracted to them, really invested in them.

He’s been jacking off to Avaricious Snape for nearly six months.

The old man drops his clothes aside as Spencer watches, slowly closing the door behind them so that Avaricious’ cat doesn’t walk in. Spencer looks at him, at the weight and curve to his arse, his narrow shoulders. He’s not as square as he is in his suits, but there’s still a squareness to him — he’s slim, but muscular. He was a dancer when he was younger, even prettier, haughtier, and Spencer’s jacked off to some of the pictures as well as to thoughts of him now.

Avaricious Snape has a pussy, which Spencer hadn’t known.

He stares at the old man’s pussy as he turns around, at the neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair over his cunt that’s like the mirror of the goatee on his face. He’s got a fat little cock, and when he slides his fingers between his legs and spreads his pink lips apart, Spencer can see that he’s already wet.

He hasn’t got top surgery scars.

“You’re trans?” Spencer asks.

“Observant,” Avaricious says witheringly. “Are you?”

“No, sir.”

“Good,” the old man says in crisp tones, and slides onto his bed, with its sensible dark blue sheets, its two-tone pillowcases, the additional blankets neatly folded back over the ottoman. “Undress,” he orders, and Spencer slides off his suit jacket, getting a hanger out of the wardrobe to hang it up so that Avaricious doesn’t tell him off.

He’s touching himself. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Avaricious’ fingers moving on his cock, stroking it, or the tightening of his pink cunt. It’s been ages since he fucked someone with a cunt — years, probably; a trans guy, and before that, he was the sixth on a friend of his’ schedule, sixth, and last. She’d lined up a few friends of hers based on how big their dicks were to break it in, and he’d been the last one, and that had been fun, but also —

Well.

One of the benefits of Grindr or Scruff is that people see his dick up front, and know exactly how big it’s gonna be — and they’re looking for it, for a big man, even if they can’t take the whole thing.

Shae, afterwards, had been soaked with sweat, had come more than once from him eating her out, but had mumbled into the pillows that maybe she had not got a pussy installed that was big enough for Spencer to take it for a ride on anything less than a very special occasion, and he’d fucked her arse instead.

Seeing his cock, Avaricious’ eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows rising, his lips coming apart, but he doesn’t flinch back.

“Did you go to a fleshturner for your chest?” Spencer asks as he comes forward, naked, his cock already painfully, embarrassingly hard and bobbing as he wraps his hand loosely around it and gives it a squeeze.

“I was on puberty blockers,” Avaricious murmurs. “Is that going to get any bigger?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Spencer says, almost shyly, feeling heat in his cheeks. “Um — Is it… if it’s too big, I can just — ”

“It isn’t,” Avaricious says. “You may have gleaned from my sporadically scheduled rest periods I’m somewhat out of practice in taking even a small cock, however. You’ll need to go slowly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you thought about this, Mr Folse? The idea of my inviting you into my bed, inviting your cock inside me?”

Spencer stares at him, his mouth open, and then silently nods his head.

He climbs onto the bed as Avaricious directs him, and before sitting back against the headboard, he drops his head and swipes his tongue between the older man’s legs, tasting where he’s wet and open. Avaricious gasps, grabbing Spencer by the head, and Spencer slips his tongue around the entrance of his hole, lapping at where he’s wet before flicking his tongue over Avaricious’ cock. Avaricious’ body is tight and stiff, and as he starts to properly eat him out, going between swiping his tongue over his prick and suckling on it to fucking the old man’s cunt with it, he pushes his thumbs into the hard meat of the old man’s thighs, massaging out a few of the knots.

It doesn’t take long before he’s writhing, moaning loudly and gripping tightly at the sheets, and Spencer can’t help the way that he’s fucking sweating, the way his cock is so hard and wet at its head it’s threatening to drip all over the bed, jumping and twitching where it hangs down between his legs.

When Avaricious grabs his head again, it slides in the sweat clinging to Spencer’s smooth scalp, and he feels embarrassed, but the old man just grips him by the jaw to push his head back and says, “Now,” in a rumbling tone.

Spencer hurries to obey, and Avaricious lies down on his side, pushing a few pillows under his narrow waist (so narrow Spencer actually feels dizzy for a second at how easily his hands cover most of it when he grips at him) to make sure his cunt is on a level with Spencer’s cock.

“Are you, um, are you flexible?”

“Worried it won’t fit?” asks Avaricious, voice dripping with condescension, and fuck, fuck, but it makes him so horny he can barely stand it.

“No, I mean, your, your thighs, your legs, am I gonna hurt you if I…?”

“I might be an old man, but I do my exercises every day, young man,” Avaricious says blisteringly. “You shouldn’t harm me — and if you do, I’ll tell you. Take my leg, that’s it, lift it up, over your thigh — There, that gives you space to manoeuvre, doesn’t it?”

When Spencer shifts his hips forward, his cock slides against the opening of Avaricious’ cunt, where he’s open and wet, feels so searingly hot that Spencer can barely stand it. He has one hand loosely grasping underneath the back of Avaricious’ knee and the other arm banded around his flat, muscular chest.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and Avaricious softly laughs as he reaches for Spencer’s cock and lines it up with the opening, pushing it up slightly so that Spencer can sink inside.

“Slowly,” Avaricious barks at him, and Spencer heaves in a little gasp at how the singular word makes his whole body freeze, his cock hard as it’s ever been and encased by such incredible tightness he can barely even believe it, feeling Avaricious’ cunt clench around his cockhead, around the sensitive skin where his head is exposed. “Good boy,” Avaricious tells him softly — the strain in his voice is audible, one of his hands reaching back to touch Spencer’s side, his fingers twitching. “In. More. Slowly.”

Spencer gives a small thrust in, moving inside barely half an inch, and fuck, fuck, but it’s agonising, to fuck into Avaricious’ tight, barely yielding cunt and to feel the heat of him, to feel the clench and want so badly to just bury himself all the way in, to sheath himself entirely in him.

“Good lord, boy,” Avaricious whispers, breathing a little heavier. “It’s a wonder you don’t need a third shoe.”

“What?” Spencer asks.

“Just keep going.”

Spencer shifts forward a little bit more, and slowly begins to thrust, pulling back all the way before he slowly sinks in. Leaning forward, he wishes he wasn’t quite so big, wishes there were mirrors in the room so that he could see the way his cock is cleaving open the old man’s tiny cunt, the way he’s splitting him open.

The thought makes him salivate a little, and he thinks about just how small the body in his arms is, how he might not be able to hurt the old man too easily, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t stronger than him. Most of the time he has to be careful with people, lets them ride him, is careful about how deep he goes, how much he’s on top of them when he’s all bulk.

He slides his hand over Avaricious’ thigh, feels all the muscle there, all the meat at his waist.

“Please,” he begs, sweat on his body, seeping out of his pores. “Please, sir, you’re so, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking wet inside, so hot — ”

“Slowly,” Avaricious tells him again, and Spencer can tell how hard he’s trying to maintain control, trying to keep hold of his composure. “Slow — Haa, God, slow — ”

“What will you do to me if I go faster?” asks Spencer. Avaricious is silent for a moment, and Spencer can imagine the look on his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the curl of his lips. He isn’t used to being questioned, and Spencer knows it.

“I beg your — ”

Spencer puts both of his hands around Avaricious’ tiny waist, and slams him home.

The noise that comes out of Avaricious Snape’s throat will be inscribed on the inside of Spencer’s head for the rest of his life, probably, but what matters even more is how his cock is just completely swallowed by wet, tight heat, incredible pressure on all sides, Avaricious’ pussy clenching greedily around him.

“I didn’t,” Avaricious stammers, breathless, sounding dizzy. “I told you — Ahh!” he whines as Spencer flips them over and shoves Avaricious down into the bed, beginning to piston his hips.

He’s never heard the old man sound so uncontrolled, so incoherent, as Spencer slides his arms under his chest and grips at his shoulders to keep him steady as Spencer fucks inside him, shoves his cock as deeply as he can into Avaricious’ cunt without him sliding up the bed, without him moving.

He slams his cock all the way home, his balls slapping against Avaricious’ beautiful little cock, and Avaricious’ whines and moans are muffled into the pillows underneath them as Spencer fucks inside him. When he pulls back, it’s almost painful, to lose that sweet, all-encompassing tightness, but coming back means he gets the anticipation of it, and then he gets to slam home as hard and fast as he can and really feel it, fill the old man up and feel the squeeze of him.

It’s been so fucking long since he’s fucked someone with such an incredible hole, so long since he’s really been able to let loose on someone and pin them underneath him like this and really use them, and God, fuck, but he’s so small, so little and so easily manipulated whilst still being strong and sturdy enough to take it.

Will his pussy close up by tomorrow, with how wide Spencer’s dick has spread him open? Will he be gaping under his clothes as he goes to work, the hole winking? How many times would Spencer have to fuck him before he really started to widen outward, how long for?

When he presses down with his thighs at the same time as he thrusts all the way inside, he can feel the resistance at the end of Avaricious’ cunt, feel where his cervix is — if he stood up straight and bounced the old man on his dick, could he get deeper? Come right in him, try and get the old man pregnant?

“Fu-u-uck,” Spencer whimpers, and Avaricious starts crying out louder as Spencer’s thrusts become erratic, losing his rhythm and just fucking into him as wildly as he can, forcing him open, feeling the old man go limp and lax and loose and just let him.

Spencer comes with a grunt, biting and kissing at the back of Avaricious’ neck, and he feels him clench and flutter around him as he collapses, breathing heavily, on top of him.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks.

Avaricious doesn’t say anything, but he sounds like he’s breathing fine, and Spencer isn’t pressing on his chest.

He lies there for a little while, feeling the flutter of his pussy, and then he slowly pulls back. He groans at the feel of it as his softening cock slides free, and he shudders at the sight of it, at Avaricious’ used pussy still open in the wake of Spencer’s cock, at the little dribble of come that threatens to slide out of him until Spencer catches it with his thumb and pushes it back inside.

He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it for a second, pushing the pillows back under Avaricious’ waist and nudging him between the shoulders so that he stays down, his fat little arse in the air, his pussy on display, so that it doesn’t drip out of him.

“You okay, sir?” Spencer asks.

“Fuck,” Avaricious grunts, and Spencer pushes the cheeks of his arse apart, looking at the tight, pink furl of his hole. His thumb is wet with his own come and Avaricious’ pussy slick as he wipes it over pucker, sliding it around before nudging inside.

Avaricious squeaks. Spencer never even knew he could make a sound that high and God, fuck, but the ring of muscle at his arse is tight, squeezing down around Spencer’s thumb as he slides it forward.

“Can I fuck this one next?” he asks.

“Ungh,” Avaricious says, but his thighs spread slightly farther apart, and Spencer is going to take that as a yes.

When he opens up the drawer to look for lube, he finds the old man’s massage wand ready-charged and waiting, and he grins as he gets it out with a strap to fasten it to his thigh.