That's a bold claim, spoken with such unflinching confidence, a scientifically proven fact as undeniable and present as gravity, that Danny almost wants to believe him. Newton and his apple. John and his unknowable strangeness, bending Danny to his very own universal law of gravitation. Out of the fire, onto the thick dick of another abomination. Figures. Karma comes to collect a debt unpaid. Now open your mouth and pony up.

Make me, he nearly says, biting. Hateful. Can you fuck the divinity from a man that looks talks cums like a man but isn't a man? Time to find out.

Danny's hand hugs the brick, bracing John with a sturdy upwards ripple of his hips. His dick trips over his hole like an overeager puppy, finds a home for his displaced cockhead on a twitching, wrinkled rim of muscle and sinks in, in, fuck. Hard to think of the finely shaped ass he's about to fuck stupid as anything other than an ass, but John's body coaxes him inside like the sloppiest of fucking cunts. Danny draws bow-string tight against him, grinds his teeth into the sweaty hollow between his shoulder and neck and moans, keening sweet. Slut. Slutslutslutslut, open your mouth, pony up.

He fills him until his cockhead pops clear of his rim, hips stalling, shivering. Then, all at once: a gunshot snap as he fucks him full, hilted down to his balls. He throttles down on a whine and smears his damp eyelashes onto John's shoulder, his hand on his cock, machine brutal thrusts rawing his shoulders into the wall.