“Yeah, take it, fag! Take my fucking alpha dick!”

“Yes, sir!”

Ah, gym bros. Mark was well acquainted with their ways. Dustin here had started buggering him a few weeks back. It made him chuckle to think they were in control. That they had a handle on the situation. Mark was in control. Completely. Any ground given was ground he could recover at a moment’s notice. He played the part of a submissive gay boi for the men who needed the cope. It only mattered that Mark got his prize: the rich creamy dessert. The ends justified the means.

And the slurring? It pissed him off when done without his consent, but when a dude “earned” the right to say it – when he really topped the shit out of his bussy – he could let it slide. He knew that a lot of closeted men slurred the objects of their attraction to deflect their own insecurities. Freudian and irritating, but typical. As if this hunk of douche was any less of a “fag” with his dick firmly up Mark’s beautiful, manly ass.

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