Content warning: This story can trigger dysphoria, "Feminine" words are used to describe the trans man's genitalia and at some points in the story he get's feminized. Spanking, fisting, bondage, domination, reluctance and tendency to non-consent are described in the story. If this is not your thing please move on.
----------------------------------------------
The sun was low over the horizon, casting everything in honey and bronze. The gay section of the beach was tucked between dunes, mostly quiet except for the occasional laugh or splash from the water. Wolf had been there for hours, pretending to read, drinking in the sea breeze and pretending not to notice the kinds of men who walked past.
His towel was spread out on the sand, sunglasses tilted down, a paperback forgotten on his stomach. He wore nothing but swim trunks, his shirt crumpled beside him, exposing a broad, sculpted chest with a faint scar running from armpit to armpit, traced with tattoos and dusted in sun-freckled hair. Not the kind of ripped that turned heads instantly -- but undeniably fuckable.
He hadn't meant to stay this long. He wasn't even sure why he'd come out this far while traveling -- maybe just to see. He'd never actually done anything with a guy before. Just thoughts. Memories. Hard-ons he'd talked himself out of.
Until Tristan.
Tristan lounged on a sun-warmed towel, thick arms behind his head, legs spread just enough to command attention. He was ruggedly handsome, maybe in his late thirties. His body was pure heat--salt-and-pepper chest hair catching the last of the sun, thick thighs dusted with sand, a big cock resting heavy against one thigh. He looked like he owned the beach. Maybe the whole damn coast.
And he hadn't taken his eyes off Wolf.
The first time he walked past, Wolf thought it was a coincidence. The second time, he started to sweat. The third time, Tristan stopped and looked -- and didn't stop looking.
Wolf had held that gaze for half a breath too long.
That was all it took.
Now they were tucked in the lee of a dune, away from the path, still visible if someone looked too closely, but just hidden enough to pretend. Wolf's back was to the warm sand, chest rising and falling, not from exertion but nerves. His trunks were halfway down his thighs, his cock hard, his cunt slick -- but his jaw was tight, hands half-clenched like he still hadn't decided if he was going to bolt.
Tristan knelt between his legs like a man who'd already made up his mind.
Wolf's thighs tensed. "I shouldn't--people could see--"
Tristan didn't answer. Just leaned down, nose brushing the trail of hair below Wolf's navel. He inhaled, slow and indulgent, like Wolf was his to savor.
"You smell fucking good," he said, low and pleased.
Wolf swallowed hard. His cock twitched, his pussy ached, but he shook his head. "I don't usually... I mean--fuck, I don't even know why I let you--"
"But you did," Tristan said, calm as a knife. "And you're still here."
One hand slid up Wolf's thigh, firm and possessive. His fingers nudged the fabric aside, revealing slick folds, wet and waiting.
Wolf flinched -- not away. Just a reflex. His hips lifted slightly, mouth parted like he meant to protest, but nothing came out.
Tristan didn't ask. He leaned in and licked, slow and deep, tasting him like a reward. Wolf gasped, his head snapping back. He covered his mouth with one hand.
"Jesus--"
"You ever had a man eat your cunt before?" Tristan asked, tongue circling his clit with agonizing focus.
Wolf's reply was a strangled sound, almost a no.
Tristan pressed a kiss just above the hood, then slid two fingers between the folds -- slow, unhurried, but firm. They sank in easily, and Wolf froze.
His whole body went still for half a second. His chest rose with a sharp breath.
Then he exhaled. Didn't stop it. Didn't close his legs.
Tristan curled his fingers inside him, thumb brushing over his clit.
"Fuck, you're open already," he murmured. "Stretched just right. What've you been playing with, pretty boy?"
Wolf squeezed his eyes shut. His voice was thin. "I've... had practice."
Tristan's grin was all heat. "Thought so."
A third finger pushed in. Not testing. Claiming.
Wolf gasped through his teeth, body jerking -- not from pain, but surprise at how good it felt. He bit his knuckle to keep quiet.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Tristan whispered, working his fingers slow and deep.
Wolf didn't answer -- couldn't. His hips moved without thinking, grinding down, chasing it.
"You're letting me in," Tristan said, voice thick with approval.
Wolf's breath hitched. His hand dropped from his mouth, fingers twitching against the towel.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he whispered.
"You don't have to," Tristan said. "Just let me."
And Wolf did. He stopped thinking. Stopped fighting. Let the thick fingers fuck into him, stretching him with every slow curl and thrust. Let the words melt over him -- possessive, sure.
"You've got such a good pussy," Tristan growled. "Bet you were made to be bred."
Wolf moaned -- not loud. But it was real.
His head tipped back. The sky was turning purple, the ocean hissed softly in the distance, but all Wolf could feel was Tristan's fingers inside him, coaxing him open, pushing deeper.
And the worst part?
He wanted more.
The sun had vanished by the time they reached Tristan's apartment.
It wasn't far -- just a few blocks from the dunes, past streets that smelled like seaweed and old stone. Wolf's trunks were back on, his cock still half-hard, the wet cling of his cunt undeniable between his legs.
He didn't say a word. Didn't need to. Tristan's hand rested low on his back the whole time. Possessive. Gentle. Just enough pressure to keep him moving.
The apartment was up two flights of stairs, overlooking the beach. Sparse, masculine. Exposed brick, dark wood, open windows letting in the salty breeze. It smelled like skin and sweat and something unmistakably male.
The door had barely shut before Tristan's hand was at the back of Wolf's neck.
"You can still leave," he murmured, voice low.
Wolf froze. His jaw clenched.
Then, almost silently: "I don't want to."
Tristan pulled him close and kissed him -- hard and sure, all heat and stubble. Wolf opened for it without thinking. Moaned into his mouth. His hands scrabbled at Tristan's waist, not sure if he was clinging or trying to push away.
