Date: Tue, 20 Oct 2015 21:52:10 +0700
From: So Watso <sjwauthor@gmail.com>
Subject: The Blacklist - 2

This is the second part of a series exploring characters from NBC's The
Blacklist.

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Ressler darts into the bedroom, excited. He rips off his tie and rapidly
unbuttons his shirt, revealing his alabaster, solid frame. His chest,
majestic and broad. His nipples, large, dark red, and perky. He pulls his
hands up his torso, kneading his muscles. As he does, his thumb grazes his
nipple, making his spine twitch. He does it again, feeling the energy shake
his whole body for just one second before passing.

He pulls off his belt. Before he discards it, he hesitates, smiles, and
leaves it on his bedpost. He kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks.
His cock strains against the tight boxer briefs, their dark blue material
standing stark against the sun-sheltered skin of his smooth stomach.
Ressler lays on the bed and touches his lips, gently tracing each cracked
cranny, while his other hand slides down his thick thigh, feeling each
string of muscle flex with the turning and writhing of his leg.

Ressler hears a moan from the living room, his hand, now on his stomach,
squeezing tight into his smooth abs. He moans with the sensation.

He brings his other hand up to his hair and runs his strong fingers through
the stunning rubicund locks. Just as he begins to pull on his hair, he
looks to see a naked figure standing there.

At the door, Tom stands naked. His furry body is sculpted like a divine
being, his cock stands long and hard in front of him, bobbing up and down
as Tom inhales and exhales with excitement. He brings his hand up to his
neck and chokes himself, never breaking eye-contact with the ginger stud on
the bed. His other hand heads towards his freed cock.

"Wait."

Tom's hand stops.

"Let me."

Ressler gets off the bed, crosses to Tom, and squats down. He looks at the
tip of the cock, the foreskin hiding all but the very top, where a single,
glistening drop of precum shines.

Ressler puts his finger on tip, dabbing the drop, and brings it towards his
mouth. Tom, having released his hand, is standing in shock and awe. How
could such a stud want to suck me off? Ressler's finger goes into his mouth
and he draws in the sensation of Tom's juice. He sucks on his finger,
moaning, beginning to flail and gyrate, enthralled with the taste.

Tom is dumbfounded, his mouth hangs agape. His cock is as hard and long as
it has ever been in his entire life. He is amazed and unsure and confused.
Suddenly, he sees two hands flying towards his face. One, with four fingers
stuck out straight, goes right into his mouth; the other latches onto his
neck. He freezes, hoping he had inhaled before this. In front of him,
Ressler stands panting. His eyes are fixed on Tom's, his mouth is held
shut. He pushes his fingers farther and farther back into Tom's mouth,
eventually going as far as possible. When he sees Tom is not gagging or
panicking, he smiles and withdraws his hands. He steps forward to the
slightly taller, narrow, former twunk. He leans in and kisses Tom.

Their lips dance on top of each other. Tom moves his hands to Ressler's
arms, but finds them pushed down to hang at his side. Ressler is not
touching Tom either.  The only thing touching is their lips, mixing and
twisting and churning and gnawing and pulling and sliding and sucking and
pushing and tugging. Tom's eyes are closed, but his mind is on fire. This
cannot be possible. This cannot be possible. Ressler's lips on his.

Tom feels a hand between his strong thighs. He feels Ressler's two fingers
massaging his taint, gently stroking the hairy stretch between his two most
treasured places. Tom's knees buckle slightly and he parts his legs,
desperately wanting more.

He moves again to touch Ressler, this time with no restrictions. He puts
his hand on Ressler's shoulders, strong, tall, muscular traps that make his
neck seem of monumental importance. He pulls his fingers across the smooth,
warm, alabaster skin.

Ressler begins to kiss down Tom's neck, across his stubble, lingering on
the neck and knowing that with one good thwack of his lips, he can leave a
fat mark on his neck. He proceeds again, down the tight frame of beauty
beneath his lips, and savors the feeling of each strand of hair and each
parcel of skin. He stops at the belly-button, allowing his tongue to flick
in and out. Tom's whole body quivers, his cock bounces up, hitting
Ressler's chin with his long cock, slightly curved to the right. Ressler's
eyes open and look up. He smiles at Tom. Tom looks down. Ressler speaks
clearly and directly: "You're a scummy asshole for all the crimes you've
committed."

Tom looks down and, in a moment of brazen hubris, slaps Ressler across the
face with an open palm. "Shut up and start you fucker."

Tom's eyes roll back as his cock is worshipped by pursed, thick lips.

Ressler guides his lips up and down the long shaft. He loves the feel of
Tom's pubes going into his nose and tickling his hairless, strong face. He
goes with the heaving breath of his dark-haired muscle bud, then, he
suddenly shifts his pace, changing direction or changing pace, making Tom
quiver and groan loudly, before returning to a steady pace. His control of
the moment is intense: rhythmic lips, pulsing fingers. His other hand is
descending down his torso, massaging every ounce of muscle on his front. He
brings his fingers around his fat shaft and begins pulsing, creating a
polyrhythm between his hand, his fingers, and his lips. Each moving in
related and obscure ways.

He plunges his mouth all the way down Tom's cock, swallowing the whole
thing without flinching. Once there, he opens his mouth wider and allows
his tongue to stick out and taste the sack that is firm and tight.

Tom begins to scream, writhing and writing and flailing and writhing. His
balls contract and he shoots load after load after load after load down
Ressler's throat.

Ressler smiles as he pulls off, the load stored in the back of his throat.
He rises and grabs Tom by the shoulders, walking the incapacitated Tom to
the bed. He lays him down, pries his mouth open, and allows the load in his
throat to roll off his tongue and into Tom's open mouth. Tom's eyes are
struggling to convey understanding. It's majestic. As the load finishes,
Tom jumps and straddles the weak man beneath him. His hand throttles the
throat, his cock descends into the throat, and his load shoots out, causing
Tom's load to fly out of either side of the mouth from the intense
pressure. Ressler's body shivers intensely and minutely, his hand pressing
harder and harder down on Tom's vulnerable throat. Just before Tom's light
leaves his eyes, Ressler pulls it off, flips down, and sucks the load out
with all his might, evacuating the mix of sperm quickly, getting it all
into his stomach with a vigor he did not think he could muster after 39
hours on the job. He falls over sideways on the bed, legs still in contact
with the hair on Tom's intense and intricately muscled thighs. He rubs them
and drifts to sleep, savoring the load that lingers longingly on his tired,
fat tongue.