*** SLITHER INTO RUIN ***
*** Chapter 9 ***
*** Nuclear ***
The first move to saving Bryce was obvious. Start a livestream.
Passer's by instinctively left a bubble around Marsh's imposingly broad figure and the bodybuilder used the space to wind up a kick.
He rammed his knee into the lean, blond swimmer's crotch like he had discovered a new boxing bag. His Split Tongue shirt flew up, exposing his golden thong.
Bryce bowed with his hands on his crotch, his wide, horrified eyes watering as he stared at Marsh. He exhaled for longer than seemed plausible, as if his soul was leaving his body, too, after the air was gone.
But it was enough to satisfy the serpent. On the next blink, the tattoo had moved off Bryce's neck and to his shoulders, where the ouroboros' head and tail met, its ink black eyes gazing indifferently until Marsh moved the camera's view up again and banished the mark.
"Hey there, Clapper," Marsh said, glad his masculine monotone could play over his nervousness. He tried to chuckle and hoped it didn't sound too forced.
Bryce flipped him off, one hand still on his crotch. The serpent was hiding, but undoubtedly waiting on Bryce's back.
The tortured hunk looked straight ahead to avoid meeting the stares of confused pedestrians as he drummed on his balls. With his wheezing breath it was clear the snake pressed on his air pipe from behind. His face was reddening.
Marsh gave his friend a hard nut-tap and gestured for him to turn around.
Bryce did a slow twirl, forcing the snake to keep changing position. He spread his arms in a light flex, his body sparkling in the sun with the torn red top hanging off him.
As he faced the camera again, he risked a grin.
Someone pulled up behind Marsh, driving at him at top speed, then slamming the break. The bodybuilder jumped in surprise.
"Get in, fuckers, or suck a dick," Ken shouted.
The shirtless gymnast was driving the bellhop's Sea View Hotel cart. An electric, open two seater with a large pickup area for suitcases in the back.
Marsh was so shocked, he stood frozen until Bryce slammed into his broad back and shoved him forward.
"Bruh, fuck me," Marsh said and ended the stream while Bryce put their backpack on the passenger seat. The blond tried to climb in but the gymnast pushed him off.
"On the back," Ken said and pointed his thumb to the luggage area. "Marsh's gotta dick you down."
"Help me out, you mean," Bryce panted, face red and sweating harder than before. "Not sex, ju-... just a bro helping."
"Hey!" came a voice from the hotel. "Stop! Police!"
Bryce stumbled and barely caught himself before slamming into the asphalt. His red speedo was down to his ankles. His dick flopped freely under the hanging tank top. Bryce pulled on the speedo but the snake fought to keep it down.
Two buff guys in suits ran toward them.
"Come on," Marsh shouted and grabbed the blond by the arm.
Bryce jumped out of his speedo and onto the cart, erection flopping as his shirt fluttered.
The hunks sat down on the loading space and Ken hit the pedal. "Wooooo-hooooo!" Ken shouted. "Fuuuuuck youuuuuu, dick suckerrrrrrrs!"
They swerved from the entrance semi-circle into the boulevard's lose traffic. As if the athlete-laden cart didn't stand out enough already, the honking of cars around them certainly drew attention.
Marsh put his ear pods in and switched to his `epic death metal' playlist, worthy of a crazy, fucked up car heist – even in a glorified golf cart.
Bryce hammered his crotch under the obvious tent with increasing despair but still couldn't breathe. Marsh slapped Bryce's hand away and rammed his fist between the muscular legs, grinding the model's balls to dust.
The swimmer was granted one decent breath before the serpent returned to his throat.
Marsh pulled his shirt over his head and started to jerk himself off through the thong, rapidly getting hard.
"I'm sorry, bruh. We gotta go nuclear."
Bryce had a pitifully pleading look on his prettyboy face. But the red skin was turning purple and he had to feel the rising panic of asphyxiation. He nodded with a heavy swallow.
"Ken," Marsh said. "Where's the nuke?"
The buff Asian in a silver thong shoved one hand into the backpack. "The final resort. Make it count. Just so we're clear, Brycie-boy, I think you'd die from using that the regular way, let alone getting ass-fucked, hehe. Sorry, shouldn't laugh but, hehehe. Fuck."
Bryce flipped him off but Ken was looking ahead, weaving through traffic.
The tall swimmer slipped out of his tank top, naked and erect, visible to anyone on San Ophion's busiest commercial road. They were halfway up the Boulevard.
"Coming up on Pyre Park," Ken said. "And here you go."
Marsh took the black bottle from the driver's hand and looked at the Chinese characters.
"Bruh, what's is say? Mamba's Vengeance? Rattlesnake's Clinch?"
Ken briefly tuned around to meet his eyes. "Basilisk."
Bryce was on his back, legs spread in the air. He opened Clapper, while Marsh drizzled the Basilisk on his condom-clad dick. Only a light sprinkle, to get an unspeakable burn as deep into his buddy as his six inches allowed, without flooding his inside.
Bryce, now dangerously purple faced, gestured that he was ready, one hand holding the selfie-stick, the other spreading his hole with three fingers. His upper half was practically covered in serpent designs.
Marsh placed his hand on the bottom's neck to make the choking seem on purpose and they went live. He grinned into the camera, showed off their surrounding and settled on the erect boy underneath him.
"Ready for the Basilisk sauce, you little bitch-hole?"
Bryce flipped him off but nodded. Filming made the serpent retreat, letting the model get half a breath in before the snake reapplied pressure from another hidden angle.
"Get it... over with... no homo."
Marsh shoved in and started fucking with hip thrusts.
The rising look of horror on Bryce's face was well familiar at this point. He could breathe easy again. Tears filled his eyes.
"Ffffffuuuuuu-" Bryce whimpered. He tried to fight Marsh off in a panic but the bodybuilder still had his hand on the weaker boy's neck and held him down.
"Shhhh," Marsh said. "Just enjoy the spice high."
"Shit... no..." Bryce said, still pushing on the thrusting bodybuilder. "What fucking high, huh? Uh uh fuck. This is pain, okay? Impossible, ass pain."
"That much worse?"
The bottom gasped. "I'm riding a lightsaber, ughhhhh fuaaaarr-"
"Haha. Good one."
"Uh uh fuck. I hate you. I fucking hate you. Uh uh ughhh... Suck a dick. Suck a million dicks."
Marsh felt genuinely a little insulted, but he was mostly glad Bryce's throat was unconstrained. He tried to keep a slow pace, despite being horny enough he could barely keep from cumming instantly.
"...uh uh yeah baby, keep talking uh uh..."
Bryce's eyes rolled back into his head, his fingers digging into the top's pecs and obliques.
"...it's so bad, it hurts too much... uh uh it's like a laser death-beam shooting up my hole... fuck... I'm gonna die... uh uh I'm g-gonna... uh uhhhh... hhh... hhh..."
"Haha, gonna what?"
Bryce stopped struggling. "Hhhhh..."
"H-hey bruh," Marsh said as Bryce's arms dropped by his side. "Bruh? Bro? S-stop fucking around."
Marsh slapped the bottom's face. He didn't know if he should stop humping. "Bryce? P-please?"
Ken looked over his shoulder. "Oh shit, you fucked him to death."
The swimmer violently convulsed back to life and grabbed onto his top's hips. "Fuuu-uuu-uuuk my aaa-aaas, duuu-uude."
Marsh sighed, camera shaking in his hand. "Bryce Nathaniel Henderson, never scare me like that."
"Just! Keep! Fucking!"
Bryce straightened his legs, holding them apart with all his flexibility.
Marsh thrust harder while Ken accelerated.
The driver threw another glance back. "What the hell happened?"
"I... I dunno uh uh... I kinda uh uh... ass-pain-gasmed or some shit uh uh uh..."
"It feels good?" Marsh asked.
"No! Fuck no. It only ever hurts uh uh uh... It's just so much pain, like I can't even..." Bryce's breath was hard and heavy even considering he was having sex. He was drenched in sweat, shining from head to toe as his raised legs grabbed attention on both sides of the boulevard.
"Bruh, you're not making sense."
"I fucking know uh uh... But I'm still ultra-pain-gasming, holy fucking shit uh uh... Just keep that lightsaber in there uh uh..."
Marsh grinned. "Still `no homo'?"
"Obviously no homo, fuck youuuu uh uh..."
"We're here," Ken said and pulled off the road into the open park, driving onto the cobblestone mosaic. The fucking hunks got shaken by the rough terrain.
Ken swerved through tourists, to get close to the pyre – a bonze bowl where a bonfire was lit during various festivals. He grabbed their whey bag.
Marsh's humps got smaller as he neared climax. "I'm... uh uh gonna..."
Bryce flailed wildly as if not in control of his limbs. "...uh uh it's so much, fuck. Too much uh uh... I need uh uh... I need..."
"...uh uh need what bruh?"
Ken slammed the breaks and the sexing couple lurched forward, their faces closing in.
Bryce grabbed the bodybuilder's head and pulled him into a hard, sloppy kiss. Marsh instinctively turned the selfie-stick to follow Bryce's face as it rubbed into his.
Marsh whimpered into his buddy's lips as he creamed into the condom.
Ken had hopped off the cart and flung the bag to make it rain protein onto the pyre.
Heat emanated from the pyre's direction. Even in his spice-high, already sweaty state, Marsh felt like he was standing too close to a fire.
"What the fuck?" Ken said as he climbed back into the driver's seat. "I'm gone for a second and you turn faggot?"
The kissing hunks pulled apart like lightning had struck them and flipped off their friend.
Marsh checked if the snake was still anywhere on Bryce's body and turned off the stream, making it a regular Clap on Bryce's profile. The model was up to 37k followers. Bryce had cummed, a smattering of droplets on his abs.
Marsh dropped back to sit on his calves, panting and dizzy.
As Ken started the engine, Marsh checked his own account. He had broken his goal for the year and shot past it to 62k followers.
Bryce wiped his abs with his torn tank top. "Dude, can I borrow yours? I got no pants."
"I need it, too," Marsh said, reaching for his black and white top.
"But you gotta f- help out Kennie next."
Marsh sighed. "I'm freshly spent."
"So am I." Bryce raised the red cumrag as proof. "We gotta take turns."
Ken pulled out of the park and headed for Sea View & Sycamore. Getting off the major boulevard would expose them to a lot fewer eyes but the damage was done. They had fucked in front of all of San Ophion – let alone the internet.
"Uh guys?" Ken said. He looked back, one arm over the passenger seat's back rest. It showed an interwoven ink snake, moving up with every blink.
"Fuck, man. I'm gonna need the Basilisk."