All Chapters of Burning Desires: (25 Gay Short Stories) : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Rival Roommates(2) The TV was still muttering some game in the background, but neither of us was listening. The room felt ten degrees hotter than it had five minutes ago. Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at me like he was daring me to blink first. My shorts were doing a shit job of hiding how hard I was. My cock pressed thick and obvious against the thin fabric, the head already leaking a little. I should have told him to fuck off. I should have turned the lights out and gone to sleep. Instead I stayed sitting there, chest rising fast, waiting. Ethan’s smirk came back, slow and mean. “Still not denying it, Ryan? Still not telling me to shut the fuck up?” My jaw tightened. “You talk too much for someone who is supposed to be my rival.” He laughed once, low. Then he stood up. The move brought him right between our beds, towering over me where I sat. His sweatpants hung so low I could see the deep V of muscle and the dark trail of hair disappearing un

Rival Roommates Sunlight cut through the cheap hotel curtains and hit the wrecked bed. The room smelled like dried cum, sweat, and sex that had gone on for hours. My ass was sore as hell, puffy and leaking Ethan’s loads every time I shifted. My thighs had bite marks, my neck had hickeys, and my cock felt raw from how many times he had jerked and sucked it. Ethan lay beside me on his stomach, one arm thrown over my waist, his own back covered in scratch marks from my nails. I woke up first. My dick was already half-hard again just from the smell of him and the memory of how he had pounded me last night. I rolled over and shoved him onto his back. He grunted but did not open his eyes right away. “Wake up, Kane,” I said, voice rough from moaning all night. “We have court in three hours and I still owe you a fuck.” Ethan cracked one eye open, that cocky smirk already forming. “You think you can top me? Big words from the guy whose ass is still dripping my cum.” I climbed on top of hi

The Firehouse Rookie The station was dead quiet after lights out. Only the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional creak of old pipes broke the silence. I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, heart still racing from the shower. My ass still tingled where Captain Reed’s thick finger had pushed inside me. My cock was half-hard again just thinking about it. The taste of his mouth on me, the way he swallowed every drop like he owned it. I waited until the clock hit 1:30 a.m. Then I slipped out of my bunk in nothing but my gray sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. The hallway was dark. I moved quiet, bare feet on the cool floor, heading toward the captain’s office at the back of the station. The door was cracked open. A single desk lamp was on inside. I pushed it wider and stepped in. Captain Reed sat behind his desk in just a pair of black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide the thick bulge between his legs. His massive chest and arms were bare, muscles still pumped fro

The Firehouse Rookie(4) The final shift of the week felt endless. Every siren, every drill, every time Captain Reed barked my name, my hole clenched around the memory of his cum. I had slept with his loads inside me for three straight nights. By morning I was walking funny, ass sore and puffy, but my cock stayed half-hard under my turnout gear the whole day. After the last drill, the crew headed to the showers together. Steam filled the big open room. Six big firefighters stripping down, laughing, slapping each other on the back. I hung back a little, heart already racing. Captain Reed caught my eye across the room. He gave one small nod toward the far corner stall — the one with the broken curtain that barely closed. I stepped under the spray first, facing the wall, water pounding my shoulders. My cock was already thickening. A minute later I felt his massive body behind me. The crew was loud, talking shit about the game last night, but none of them could see us clearly through t

The Underground Fighter The next night the underground club was even louder. The air was thick with smoke, blood, and the smell of desperation. I showed up again, heart hammering, notebook left at home this time. I was not here for the story anymore. I was here for him. Jax fought like a beast again. His opponent was bigger, meaner, but Jax tore through him in under three minutes. A brutal elbow opened a new cut on his cheek. Blood poured down his face and chest by the time the ref called it. The crowd screamed his name. Jax stood in the cage, chest heaving, eyes scanning until they found me in the back. He pointed one bloody knuckle straight at me. The message was clear. After the fight, the locker room was emptier. Most people had cleared out with their winnings. Jax dragged me inside again, slammed the door, and locked it this time. He was still covered in sweat and fresh blood. His shorts were soaked. The cut on his cheek dripped steadily down his jaw. “You came back,” he gr