Pulse of Forbidden Flames
Explore the raw hunger of a hidden craving unleashed in the dim lights of Manchester’s underground scene. Dive into Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Chapter 1: Whispers in the Neon Glow
The bass thrummed through the walls of Pulse like a heartbeat on steroids, vibrating up Alex’s legs as he pushed through the heavy door. Manchester’s night air clung to his skin, cool and damp with the scent of rain-soaked streets, but inside it was a furnace of sweat and cologne, bodies grinding in the haze of strobe lights. At 25, with his curly blond hair tousled from the wind and a slim frame that hid the tension coiled in his muscles, Alex wasn’t here by accident. The bachelor bash for his coworker had scattered like confetti in the wind—guys hollering about tits and beers in some straight-laced dive. But Alex? He’d slipped away, heart pounding like a drum solo, chasing something he’d buried deep since his teens.
He scanned the room, eyes adjusting to the kaleidoscope of colors. Men of all stripes: ripped torsos glistening under blacklights, laughter cutting through the synth-heavy tracks. No judgment here, just pure, unfiltered want. Alex’s throat tightened; he’d jerked off to fantasies like this, but reality hit different—smoky, sticky, alive. He ordered a whiskey neat at the bar, the burn sliding down his gullet like liquid fire, loosening the knot in his chest. That’s when he felt it: eyes on him, hot and appraising.
Across the bar, a group of three caught his gaze. Two women, bold and buzzing, one in a sheer red top that hugged her curves like a second skin, the other in fishnet stockings that screamed trouble. But it was their tag-along who snagged Alex’s breath—Ryan, broad-shouldered with a ginger beard framing a cocky grin, his dark eyes locking on like magnets. Mid-thirties, built like he’d spent years hauling weights or maybe wrestling waves on some rugged coast, Ryan’s faded jeans strained against thick thighs. Alex’s pulse skipped; he’d never locked eyes with a man like that, not in the flesh.
The red-top girl leaned in, her perfume a sharp citrus punch mixing with the bar’s stale beer funk. “Our boy’s been staring holes through you, handsome. You game?” Her friend cackled, tossing back a shot, the liquid glinting amber before disappearing down her throat.
Alex swallowed, the whiskey’s warmth spreading south. “Send him over. Let’s see if he bites.” His voice came out steadier than he felt, a lie to mask the tremor in his gut.
Ryan sauntered up, all easy swagger, the crowd parting like he owned the joint. Up close, he smelled of sandalwood and smoke, his flannel shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease a trail of red hair dipping toward mystery. “Name’s Ryan. You look like you could use some company that doesn’t involve small talk.”
“Alex,” he replied, extending a hand that Ryan engulfed in a grip firm enough to send sparks up his arm. Their palms lingered a beat too long, rough calluses scraping soft skin. Alex’s mind raced—what now?—but his body leaned in, drawn like a moth to flame.
They talked over the roar, words tumbling out amid the chaos. Ryan was a surf instructor from the coast, in town for a wild weekend, no strings, just vibes. Alex mumbled something about his job in graphic design, living with roommates in the city burbs, but his eyes kept drifting to Ryan’s lips, full and curved in amusement. The girls hovered nearby, egging them on with winks and whispers, their laughter a fizzy backdrop.
One shot led to two, the alcohol blurring edges, sharpening urges. Ryan’s hand brushed Alex’s knee under the bar, casual at first, then deliberate, thumb circling in slow promise. Alex’s cock twitched in his jeans, a forbidden heat blooming. He wasn’t out—not to his mates, not to anyone—but here, in this pulsing den, the walls crumbled. “Dance?” Ryan murmured, breath hot against his ear, sending shivers down Alex’s spine.
Alex nodded, heart slamming. As they hit the floor, bodies pressed close, the music swallowed them whole. 🔥
Chapter 2: Bodies in Collision
The dance floor was a writhing sea, sweat-slick skin sliding against skin, the air thick with musk and the metallic tang of spilled drinks. Alex let Ryan lead, their hips syncing to the relentless beat, a grind that started innocent but twisted quick into something primal. Ryan’s hands roamed—first on Alex’s waist, fingers digging into the denim belt loops, pulling him flush. Alex gasped, the press of Ryan’s hard chest against his back like a wall of heat, stubble grazing his neck in a tease that made his knees buckle.
“You feel that?” Ryan growled low, his voice a rumble lost in the thump of bass but clear as day to Alex. One hand slid lower, cupping Alex’s ass through the fabric, squeezing with intent. Alex’s breath hitched, his own erection straining, trapped and throbbing against Ryan’s thigh. He’d imagined this in stolen moments, hand fisted around his dick in the shower, but the reality? Overwhelming—the salty taste of sweat on his lips as he bit them, the rough drag of Ryan’s jeans against his own.
The girls cheered from the sidelines, one flashing a peace sign while the other grinded against a stranger, their energy infectious. “Get it, boys!” the fishnet one yelled, her voice slicing through the din like a siren. Alex laughed, dizzy, free, as Ryan spun him around face-to-face. Their eyes met, dark and dilated, and then mouths crashed together—not soft, not tentative, but hungry, tongues battling in a wet, sloppy clash that tasted of whiskey and want.
Ryan’s beard scraped Alex’s chin, a delicious burn, while his hands fisted in those blond curls, yanking just hard enough to arch Alex’s neck. Alex moaned into the kiss, the sound swallowed by the music, his fingers clawing at Ryan’s shirt, popping buttons to reveal that chiseled chest dusted with ginger. He traced the ridges of muscle, tasting salt on his fingertips when he licked them clean—bold, reckless, alive.
They broke apart gasping, foreheads pressed, breaths mingling hot and ragged. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” Alex panted, his voice hoarse, cock aching for more friction. Ryan smirked, that beard quirking up, and ground his hips forward, letting Alex feel the thick bulge mirroring his own. “Good. I want you wrecked.”
Hours blurred—dancing turned to heavy petting in shadowed corners, Ryan’s mouth on Alex’s neck, sucking marks that’d bruise purple by morning. The girls dragged them to shots, lime-sharp and burning, laughter bubbling up as Ryan’s hand slipped under Alex’s shirt, thumbing a nipple until it pebbled hard. Alex’s world narrowed to touch: the slide of callused palms, the humid press of bodies, the faint chlorine whiff from someone’s poolside adventure earlier.
By last call, Alex was buzzed, bold, his inhibitions ash. “Your place?” he asked, not caring about the bachelor crew back at the hotel, their crude jokes about pussy a distant echo.
Ryan’s grin was wolfish. “Thought you’d never ask.” He flagged a cab outside, the night air a shock after the club’s sauna, and they tumbled in with the girls, thighs pressed tight in the backseat. Ryan’s hand claimed Alex’s thigh again, inching higher, fingers brushing the zipper that strained like a dam about to burst. The ride was torture—streetlights flickering over Ryan’s face, the cab’s vinyl seats sticking to damp skin, the low hum of tires on wet pavement underscoring Alex’s pounding heart.
They piled out at Ryan’s loft apartment overlooking the canal, the building’s brick facade graffiti-tagged and gritty. Inside, it was all exposed beams and leather couches, the air scented with sea salt from Ryan’s surf posters and a hint of weed from an ashtray. The girls raided the fridge for beers, popping tops with fizzy hisses, while Alex and Ryan circled each other like predators, tension crackling.
“Show me around?” Alex said, voice thick, but it was code. Ryan led him to the bedroom, door clicking shut behind them, muffling the girls’ giggles and the faint pulse of city traffic below. 💋
Chapter 3: Unleashed Hunger
The bedroom door barely latched before Ryan had Alex pinned against it, mouths fusing in a frenzy that bruised lips and drew blood-tinged moans. Alex’s hands scrambled, yanking Ryan’s shirt off to expose that broad, freckled back, muscles flexing under his touch like coiled ropes. Ryan tasted wild—beer bitterness mixed with the clean salt of his skin—and Alex dove in, tongue tracing the vein pulsing in Ryan’s neck, sucking until a groan vibrated through them both.
“Christ, you’re eager,” Ryan rasped, hands shoving Alex’s tee up and over, nails raking down his slim chest, leaving red trails that stung sweet. Alex shivered, nipples tightening in the cool air, the room’s dim lamp casting golden shadows over Ryan’s ginger hair, turning it to fire. He dropped to his knees on the worn rug—rough fibers biting into skin—fingers fumbling Ryan’s belt, the leather creak echoing his racing pulse.
Jeans pooled at Ryan’s ankles, revealing boxer briefs tented obscenely, the outline of a thick cock making Alex’s mouth water. He nuzzled it, inhaling the musky heat, fabric damp with pre-cum. “Suck it,” Ryan commanded, voice gravel, fisting Alex’s curls to guide him. Alex obeyed, peeling down the briefs to free the beast—veined and heavy, curving up with a flushed head glistening like dew. He licked tentative at first, flat tongue along the underside, savoring the tangy bead at the slit, then bolder, lips stretching around the girth.
Ryan’s hips bucked, a guttural “Fuck yes” escaping as Alex hollowed cheeks, bobbing sloppy and deep, gagging a little on the length but pushing through, tears pricking eyes from the stretch. Saliva dripped, slicking chin and balls, the wet sounds obscene over the distant laughter from the living room. Ryan’s thighs trembled under Alex’s hands, coarse hair tickling palms, and he thrust shallow, fucking Alex’s face with controlled power.
“Enough,” Ryan growled after minutes that felt eternal, hauling Alex up by the armpits, kissing him fierce to taste himself on that swollen mouth. They stripped frantic—Alex’s jeans kicked off, cock springing free, average but rigid, leaking onto the floor. Ryan shoved him onto the bed, mattress dipping under their weight, sheets cool and crisp against fevered skin.
Ryan rummaged in the nightstand, the drawer scraping wood, pulling lube and condoms with a crinkle of foil. “You ever done this?” he asked, eyes dark with lust but edged with care.
Alex shook his head, blond curls matted, chest heaving. “First time. But I want it—want you to wreck me.”
Ryan’s smile was feral. He slicked fingers, the gel’s cool squelch making Alex jolt as one breached him, probing the tight ring. It burned, stretched, but Alex arched, moaning low, the intrusion foreign yet electric. Ryan worked him open—two fingers scissoring, curling to hit that spot that sparked stars behind eyelids, prostate throbbing like a second heartbeat. “So tight, babe. Gonna feel like heaven around my dick.”
Alex writhed, hand stroking his own cock, pre-cum slicking the way, the air heavy with their mingled scents—sweat, lube, arousal sharp as ozone. When Ryan rolled on the condom, sheathing his length, and positioned between Alex’s legs, the anticipation knotted his gut. “Breathe,” Ryan murmured, kissing his jaw, beard rasping, then pushed in slow.
The breach was fire—full, splitting, Alex’s nails digging into Ryan’s shoulders, drawing beads of blood that he licked away, coppery on his tongue. Inch by inch, Ryan sank, hips rolling until seated deep, balls snug against ass. They stilled, panting, foreheads slick together, the world reduced to this connection, pulse-throb where they joined.
Then motion: Ryan pulled back, slammed home, setting a rhythm brutal and deep. Alex cried out, legs wrapping Ryan’s waist, heels digging into that muscled ass. Each thrust slapped skin on skin, wet and rhythmic, bedframe creaking protest. “Harder,” Alex begged, voice wrecked, pleasure coiling tight in his belly, the drag on his walls igniting nerves he never knew.
Ryan obliged, pounding relentless, one hand pinning Alex’s wrist above head, the other jerking Alex’s cock in time. Dialogue dissolved to grunts, curses—”Fuck, take it,” “Yes, right there”—the room echoing their symphony. Alex came first, vision whiting, cum splattering his chest in hot ropes, clenching around Ryan until the man followed, groaning long and low, hips stuttering as he filled the condom.
They collapsed, tangled and spent, breaths syncing in the afterglow, the faint hum of the girls’ music drifting under the door like applause.
Chapter 4: Midnight Confessions
Sweat cooled on their skin as they lay there, Ryan’s weight a comforting anchor, his ginger beard tickling Alex’s collarbone where he nuzzled lazy kisses. The room smelled of sex—musky, earthy, with the underlying tang of lube clinging to sheets. Alex’s body hummed, sore in the best way, ass tender from the stretch, a delicious ache that made him shift and hiss.
“You good?” Ryan propped on an elbow, tracing patterns on Alex’s slim hip, fingers gentle now, calluses softened by the dim light filtering through blinds.
Alex nodded, a shy grin breaking through the haze. “Better than good. That was… intense.” He reached up, thumbing Ryan’s lip, still swollen from their bites. Vulnerability crept in, the high fading to whispers of doubt. “I’m not out, you know? My mates—they’re all straight-laced, bachelor party bullshit. If they knew…”
Ryan’s eyes softened, hand cupping Alex’s cheek, thumb brushing a stray curl. “Hey, no pressure. This stays here, in this bed. But damn, you were fire.” He kissed him slow this time, tongues lazy, exploring rather than devouring, the taste of salt lingering.
The door burst open then, the girls tumbling in with beers and smirks, their heels clicking on hardwood. “We heard the fireworks!” the red-top one teased, tossing a cold bottle to Ryan, foam hissing as he caught it. Her friend flopped on the bed’s edge, fishnets laddered from dancing, eyeing the rumpled sheets with a wink. “Spill—did he ruin you for the ladies, Alex?”
Laughter erupted, light and easy, cutting the tension. Alex sat up, sheet pooling at his waist, unashamed in the glow. “Ruin? Nah, elevated.” They clinked bottles, the glass chill against palm, beer bitter and fizzy on tongue. Stories flowed—Ryan recounting a wild surf mishap off Cornwall, waves crashing like thunder, salt spray stinging eyes; the girls dishing on club conquests, their voices high and animated, perfume clashing with the room’s post-coital funk.
Alex listened, interjecting with laughs, but his gaze kept drifting to Ryan, that strong jaw, the way his laugh rumbled deep. Emboldened by the booze, he leaned in during a lull, whispering, “Round two?” Ryan’s eyes darkened, nodding toward the bathroom. “Shower. Now.”
The en-suite was steamy quick, water cascading hot over tiled walls, steam rising like fog on the moors. Ryan soaped Alex’s back, hands lathering slow, fingers dipping between cheeks to tease the puffy rim. Alex moaned, bracing palms on cool tile, the spray needling his skin like tiny bites. Ryan entered him again, standing, water sluicing down their bodies, making everything slick and urgent.
“God, you’re addictive,” Ryan grunted, thrusts shallow but deep, one arm banding Alex’s waist, the other fisting his wet hair. Alex pushed back, meeting each plunge, the slap of wet flesh louder than the shower’s roar. He came with a shout, seed washing away down the drain, Ryan following with a bite to his shoulder, marking territory.
They dried off, towels rough on sensitized skin, and rejoined the impromptu party. The girls crashed on the couch eventually, snores soft amid the loft’s quiet, leaving Alex and Ryan tangled in bed once more, whispers turning to sleep’s edge. But dawn wasn’t far, and with it, realities Alex had dodged all night.
Chapter 5: Echoes of Liberation
Morning light sliced through the blinds, painting stripes across Ryan’s sleeping form, his ginger lashes fanned against freckled cheeks. Alex woke first, body a map of aches—hickeys blooming purple on neck and chest, ass throbbing with each shift. The air held a stale mix of smoke and sex, sheets twisted like battle flags. He slipped out, padding barefoot to the kitchen, the linoleum cold underfoot, brewing coffee that filled the space with rich, nutty aroma.
Ryan joined him shirtless, yawning wide, beard rumpled. “Morning, gorgeous.” He pulled Alex back against the counter, kissing sleepy and deep, morning breath be damned, hands wandering to squeeze that tender ass. Alex melted, cock stirring despite the night’s marathon, but reality nipped—his phone buzzed insistent from the bedroom, mates probably hungover and hunting.
“Gotta head back,” Alex said reluctantly over mugs, steam curling between them. “The crew—they think I’m some player with birds. If they smell the truth…”
Ryan nodded, understanding in his eyes. The girls stirred then, hungover but helpful, rummaging in drawers. “Here,” the fishnet one said, shimmying out of lacy panties, black and sheer, dangling them like a prize. “Flash these. Tell ’em you railed a vixen. Boys are idiots—won’t question.”
Alex chuckled, pocketing the fabric, soft and scented with her perfume. Ryan walked him to the door, stealing one last kiss in the hallway, tongues lingering, the echo of footsteps on stairs a lonely drum. “Come back anytime. Door’s open.”
The cab ride blurred Manchester’s gray streets, canals glinting under weak sun, Alex’s mind replaying flashes: Ryan’s thrust, the burn of entry, moans that still echoed in his ears. At the hotel, his mates whooped, slapping backs, eyes widening at the panties he waved like a trophy. “Legend!” they roared, buying rounds, their crude tales of conquests paling against Alex’s secret blaze.
But in his eyes, a new light—unburdened, sated, the weight of pretense lighter. He texted Ryan later, fingers flying: Can’t stop thinking. Round three soon? The reply buzzed quick: Count on it. Bring that tight ass.
Alex smiled, the thrill coiling fresh. The night had cracked him open, and damn if he didn’t crave more of that forbidden pulse.
