guavaslam

Yaoi Enthusiast- If character sees two men having an intimate or important conversation, take -2 to social rolls around said men until fanfiction has been produced.

FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF JUNIPER EUCALYPTUS GUAVASLAM:
 The boring man kept droning on about the miracle-device they stole, but Deckard was having none of it.  He was usually focused, cunning, he thought, but today was different.  The device could've been interesting, sure.  It turned a board to gas.  It shot a bolt of lightning.  Cool.  Whatever.  Deckard had money.  He had taste.  He could replicate those parlor tricks with other things, probably.
 What he didn't have was the sweet ass of that scowling old man in front of him.  Hot damn, he thought.  I'd love to slap some jam between those buns.  That was a funny thought.  He always thought he was into ladies, like the extremely attractive scientist also present in the room.  Maybe it was the gas the rambling old dude let into the room.  Maybe he'd just been alone for a little too long.  Deckard squirmed where he sat.  This job was important.  This job was money.
 He couldn't get his mind off Victor-fucking-Furor.  Those sharp, focused eyes, pillow lips, washboard abs.  And those buns.  God damn.  He couldn't take it any longer.  He got up from his seat.  All eyes were on him, especially Furor's, as he charged the professor and tackled him to the ground.  Then he took the device, and almost as if it were reading his truest desires, teleported everyone out of the room.
 Everyone except Furor.
 The older man raised an eyebrow, unphased by all this.  He licked his lips (those sweet, delectable lips), stroked his goatee, got up from the chair.  He spoke, his voice gruff and smooth, harsh yet sensual at the same time.
 "You just cost me a paycheck.  And I'm about to take the difference out of your ass."  The old man grins sardonically.  "Sir."  He spat his cigarette to the floor, then calmly tread over it carelessly, using both hands to rip open his tight plaid shirt, the buttons straining and popping off.  Furor was old, but he had the pale, flawless body of a Grecian god.
 Dickard swallowed, letting the device drop from his hands.  It took only a moment to come to his senses.  He grinned.  "Awfully cocky, aren't you, old man?"  The raging hard-on in his trousers betrayed his intent.  He tugged the obstructive garment down, revealing 12 inches of molten steel.  "It's funny because you're about to be full of cock."
 "Yeah?"
 "Yeah."
 Victor smelled like cheap cologne and smoke.  He tasted like smoke too, Dickard thought, as he passionately massaged the older man's tongue with his own.  He wrapped his arms behind Victor's head.  Victor wrapped both arms behind the small of Dickard's back.  They pulled each other close.  Dickard could smell the smoke.  He savored each sensation, of Victor's strong arms holding him tight, the warmth of chest against chest and the burning fury in his loins.  It could wait.  Good things came to those who wait.
 Victor deepened the kiss until Dickard was nearly throating tongue.  He exhaled a puff of hot air from his nose, leaving Dickard's own moustache tingling and warm.  They didn't break the kiss, even as Victor reached for his pants and Dickard tore off his shirt.
 Victor's cock was even bigger than Dickard's, a massive 16 inches.  Deckard was bent over like a dog, the tip of Victor's meaty monster probing at his entrance.  "Hey, Dave?"  The older man grunted.
 "Yeah?"
 "Mine is bigger than yours."  Victor thrust his massive man-missile into the narrow hole, burying it to his base.  Deckard gritted his teeth, fighting back tears and screams.  Slowly, Victor drew back, pulling inch by agonizing inch from Deckard before suddenly slamming it all back in.  Victor's strong, firm hands wrapped around the massive cock between Deckard's thighs, slowly jacking him off between each thrust.
 Victor slowly picked up the pace as Dickard's rear adjusted for his enormous size.  He maintained a savage rhythm, pounding in and out, in and out, his hand like heaven on Dickard's shaft.  The tension built and built until finally, Deckard let out a feral howl as he came, his hot load spattering over the floor even as Victor came.
 "Aaaauuuuuuoooooooooooooooooooo!"
 He woke naked in a puddle of his own semen, feeling a strange combination of shame, fury, and...  Love?
 Yes.  This is what love felt like.