FLESHBOUND CODEX — AUTHOR INSERT

The neighbor stepped out from behind the tree.
No longer hiding. No shame. Only breath.

He held Calder’s gaze as he slipped a thumb beneath the waistband of his pajama pants and pushed them down slowly—inch by inch—until they collapsed at his ankles. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the head glistening with precum. It bobbed slightly with each breath, already leaking, already hard. A vein curved along the shaft like a signature. His balls hung low, heavy, framed by wiry hair and morning heat.

He stepped out of the puddled fabric. Crossed the yard. Nothing rushed. Nothing uncertain.

Calder met him halfway, body bare, cock slick, fingers still glistening from where they’d been buried.

When they reached each other, there were no words—just mouths crashing.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was wet, open, urgent. Tongues tangled, lips parted wide, breath caught between groans. Their cocks met between their bodies—sliding, smearing, pressing. Calder’s shaft throbbed against the neighbor’s, both slick now with spit and arousal. They rutted into each other as they kissed—cocks grinding, twitching, fighting for space.

Calder moaned into his mouth again, this time deeper, more ragged. The weight of their cocks between them wasn’t just friction now—it was tension, heat, the desperate press of hunger made flesh. Their shafts ground together, wet and fevered, heads slipping and dragging against one another. Calder tightened his grip around both lengths, squeezing them into the shared slick, stroking up with a shudder.

But then he let go.

He shifted, pressing his hips tighter against the neighbor's. His hand dropped lower, lower still—until his fingers grazed beneath the curve of the man’s ass. The neighbor gasped softly into his mouth.

Calder kissed him through it. Open. Tongue-heavy. Their lips locked again even as Calder's other hand found the swell of those firm cheeks and spread them apart.

There. The neighbor’s hole, flushed and tight, barely hidden beneath the sweat-slick cleft. Calder ghosted his fingers across it, slow at first. Just enough to tease. Just enough to draw another soft moan from the man’s throat.

Their cocks rutted harder now, dragged between their stomachs, pinned by hunger and grip. The neighbor's hips rocked forward with each pass of Calder’s hand, grinding cock to cock, precum spilling from both of them. Calder could feel it—the thick wetness, the obscene slip of skin on skin.

He pushed his middle finger more firmly against the neighbor’s rim, not breaching, just pressing with promise.

The man’s moan turned desperate.

Their kiss broke just long enough for a gasp.

"You—fuck—you’re gonna make me—"

But Calder only kissed him harder, hands firm on his ass, hole pulsing under his touch. The power shifted again—through the grind, through the reach, through the way they both clung to the edge of restraint.

He pressed Calder backward toward the porch beam. Calder let him. Let his shoulders rest against the wood, his legs open, his cock still locked with the other’s, their bellies slick with sweat and precum.

Hands roamed—chests, nipples, throats. Their moans grew louder, breaths coming in ragged unison.

Calder’s head dropped back against the post as the neighbor dropped lower, mouth trailing down his neck, across his chest, tongue circling one nipple, then the other, before continuing lower.

He knelt.

And Calder gasped as his cock was taken whole—wet heat, tongue firm, throat greedy.

Power shifted again—no words. Just who held the base. Who moaned louder. Who begged quieter.

And Calder, still slick between his thighs, let the man suck him while his own hands trembled around the back of that eager, hungry head.

His grip hardened.

Fingers twisted into the man’s hair—not violently, but with a slow, possessive force. He guided him down, inch by inch, until Calder’s cock hit the back of his throat. A groan tore from Calder’s lips as he felt the man open—gagging briefly, then swallowing around the length with trembling effort.

"Fuck—yes," Calder hissed, holding him there, rooted to the base. The neighbor’s nose pressed to his pubic bone, his throat stretched taut, saliva spilling freely down Calder’s shaft, dripping onto the dirt.

The wet sounds were obscene. The gagged choke. The slurp and pull as Calder finally dragged him off with a gasp.

"Too close," he muttered, voice rough. "Not yet."

He pulled the man up by the hair, mouth wet, eyes wild.

Their lips barely brushed—but even that was filthy. Calder tilted his head, let their mouths slide together again, this time slower, more possessive. He let his tongue drag across the man’s bottom lip, tasting him—smoke, breath, and a slick hint of Calder’s own precum still clinging to the neighbor’s tongue. That did something to him.

He groaned into the kiss, not from tenderness, but from recognition: the way his own slick lingered on another man’s mouth. He kissed harder, deeper, tongue twisting into the neighbor’s mouth, claiming it, tasting what he’d already given.

Only then did he turn him, pressing him back against the same porch beam he'd just leaned on.

Then Calder dropped.
Mouth first.

He kissed down the man's sternum. Bit gently at his nipple. Sucked until it peaked hard against his tongue—mirroring the way he’d been touched.

And then—Calder’s mouth reached the prize. He didn’t tease.
He opened.
Took the man’s cock deep, all at once, swallowing around it like he'd waited for this moment longer than he'd admit.

The neighbor cried out.
Loud. Raw. Hands flailing for purchase as his cock disappeared into Calder’s mouth, squeezed by the rhythmic tightness of his throat.

Calder grabbed his ass—both cheeks in full grip—and pulled him in harder, rougher, letting the man fuck his face without permission.

Balls slapped Calder’s chin. Spit streamed down. The scene lewd and relentless.

And still—Calder stayed in control. Even on his knees, he owned it.

He popped off with a gasp, lips slick, spit shining down his chin as he let the man’s cock fall free with a lewd string of saliva connecting them. It broke mid-drop, slinging wet across Calder’s collarbone. He didn’t speak. Just exhaled, letting the moan roll from his chest like smoke curling through the underbrush.

Then he dipped lower.
Not quickly. Like a worshipper descending before an altar he built with his own tongue.

He lapped first. One lazy stroke beneath the balls. Then again—deeper now—drawing both into his mouth until his cheeks hollowed. He sucked slow, molten, lips wrapping tight around the sweat-heavy weight. The taste undid him: salt, skin, heat. A trace of musk that didn’t come from cleanliness but from morning tension. The kind of scent that begged to be buried into.

Calder groaned. Not performative. Possessive. His fingers gripped the man’s thighs hard enough to bruise, feeling them twitch as he rolled each ball against the roof of his mouth.

He let them fall from his lips with a wet sound.

And then—he surged.
No tease. No warning. He took the cock back in with an obscene slurp, swallowing until the shaft curved into the tight heat of his throat, buried to the root. His nose mashed into wiry hair. Spit burst from his lips around the base.

The neighbor nearly collapsed.
“F-fuck—” he choked, fists clenched at his sides. “Calder—holy fuck—”

But Calder wasn’t done.

His hand slid between the neighbor’s legs. Palm broad. Fingers wet—coated with saliva from the base of the cock still stretching his throat. He didn’t pause. Just pressed.
Right at the hole.
Not a brush. Not a tease.
A full, wet push that made the man buck.

His finger circled once. Twice. Then pressed again—firm and slick, the tip dipping past the muscle with the same inevitability as his mouth had.

The neighbor groaned so loudly it cracked.

Balls slapped Calder’s chin in rhythm. Spit laced his throat and dripped freely now—off his tongue, off his wrist, off the base of the neighbor’s cock where his lips refused to let go.

Filthy. Gorgeous. Groaned into like worship through grit.

And Calder moaned around him like a man not being used but being fed.

The neighbor pulled back with a shudder, dragging his cock from Calder’s mouth with a wet gasp. It left a thick line of spit trailing from Calder’s lip to the flushed head. The man looked down, dazed, panting—but Calder didn’t let him recover.

He surged upward, seized the man’s mouth with his own. Their kiss was feral—open, moaning, teeth and tongue. Calder’s hands found the man’s hips and pulled him flush, their cocks grinding again in slick, desperate rhythm.

The moans came in panting bursts. Guttural. Uncontrolled.

Calder pressed harder, chest to chest, sweat slicking them together. One hand rose slowly, deliberately, until his fingers curled around the neighbor’s throat—not choking, but claiming. A grip of control. A reminder.

"Mine now," Calder growled low against his lips.

His other hand slid back down, around, dipping low until two slick fingers—coated with spit and arousal—pressed back against the neighbor’s hole. This time, he didn’t wait.

He pushed in, slow but firm.

The neighbor gasped into his mouth. “Fuck—Calder—please—”

Calder kissed him again, rougher. Pressed his fingers deeper. The neighbor’s breath hitched.

"What’s that?"

He slid out. The neighbor whimpered.

"You begging already?"

And he pushed back in, harder this time, knuckle-deep.

"Say it."

"More—please, more—"

Calder smiled against his mouth, teeth grazing his lower lip.

"You’ll take what I give you."

And he fucked him with his fingers as they kissed, grinding into each other like they were starving—and Calder had already decided how this would end.

But the neighbor wasn’t done being undone.

He growled into Calder’s mouth—a sound more need than threat—and grabbed Calder’s wrist, pulling those fingers free. He gasped, shuddered, then shoved Calder back with a force that didn’t ask for permission. Chest to chest again, the neighbor surged forward, lips crashing into Calder’s, pinning him this time to the porch beam.

“Mine now,” he echoed—voice shaking, but sure.

He gripped Calder by the throat—not hard, not cruel, but mirrored. His other hand slid low, found the cleft of Calder’s ass, fingers already slick from what Calder had left behind.

And he did it back.

Pressed two fingers deep into Calder’s hole, hard enough to make him gasp. To make his cock jump.

"Beg for it," the neighbor hissed against his ear.

Calder’s breath caught, lips parted.

"Say you want me inside you."

The push, the rhythm, the mirroring dominance—filthy and sacred.

Calder didn’t answer right away. Just moaned.

The neighbor twisted his fingers deeper.

"Say it."

The words weren’t cruel. They were reverent. A demand spoken like prayer—but edged with filth.

Calder’s breath hitched. His hips rocked forward involuntarily, grinding their slick cocks together.

"I—fuck—" He gasped, then bit it back, throat bobbing.

The neighbor twisted his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make Calder’s knees give. His body jerked with it—hips forward, hole clenching, cock twitching between them. He wasn’t in control anymore. He didn’t want to be.

"You gonna make me stop?" the neighbor whispered, mouth brushing Calder’s ear.

"No—don’t."

"Then say it."

He pushed again. Fingers scissoring now. Wet and thick and claiming.

"Say it while I finger-fuck you right here."

Calder groaned, broken. The kind of moan that sounded like begging even before words arrived.

"I want you—inside me," he whispered. Then louder, desperate: "I want your cock. In me. Please—"

The neighbor growled against his throat. Not just aroused—possessed.

"You gonna take it like that, right here in the yard? Bent for me while the birds watch?"

Calder shuddered, hole pulsing around those fingers. His cock leaked between them.

"Yeah," he breathed, "bend me. Fuck me. Right now."

And the neighbor kissed him—hard. Dominant. Hungry. Hands never stopping their assault as the kiss dragged the rest of the confession from Calder’s mouth, their tongues tangling like they were already joined deeper.

Calder didn’t care who saw. He only cared that he was being undone by someone who understood exactly what it meant to ask for it—and mean it.

The neighbor didn’t waste a second.

He grabbed Calder by the hips—firm, commanding—and backed him toward the porch like he was herding something wild and willing. Calder staggered slightly but let himself be moved, chest heaving, cock dripping, ass twitching with every step.

"Down," the neighbor ordered, voice low, tight with hunger.

Calder obeyed, knees finding the warm wood. He was panting now, bracing on his elbows, body open and waiting—until the neighbor followed him down. Not behind him. Over him.

He climbed on top, swung a leg around until their bodies mirrored each other in a filthy, perfect lock—cock to mouth, mouth to ass.

A 69. Raw. Unavoidable. Intentional.

The neighbor’s cock hovered above Calder’s face, thick and flushed, still glistening from the earlier worship. And below, Calder’s own ass spread wide beneath the weight of the man’s torso, still wet from fingering, still twitching around absence.

"Take it," the neighbor said, voice gritted as he rocked forward—his cock bobbing toward Calder’s mouth. "You know where it belongs."

Calder didn’t hesitate.

He opened wide and let the head slide in. Then more. Then deeper.

The neighbor groaned above him—low, wrecked—his hips pressing forward as Calder took him to the base in one long, practiced motion. Lips sealed. Throat open. Nose buried in sweat-dark curls. He swallowed once, then again, each contraction dragging another gasp from the man above him.

"Good fuckin’ boy," the neighbor growled—and then he vanished.

Vanished into Calder’s ass.

His fingers pulled free from earlier, replaced instantly by the wet heat of his mouth. Tongue firm. Purposeful. Feral.

He spread Calder wide with both hands and devoured him.

No tease. No slow circle. Just immediate, wet, hungry laps that dragged from the base of Calder’s taint to the rim and in. Tongue pushing past the softened muscle, licking him open with slow, grinding strokes. He moaned into Calder’s hole like it fed him—spit pooling, smearing, dripping down Calder’s cleft with each pass.

And Calder? Calder gagged on cock and moaned at the same time.

The neighbor’s balls slapped gently against his forehead. Every thrust of that cock into his throat synced with a tongue-deep lunge against his ass, pushing him open, deeper, wetter. Slick sounds echoed under the porch roof. The schlurp of wet rimming. The gawk of Calder’s throat. The desperate, panting moans of two men locked in filthy symmetry.

The neighbor drooled into him. Licked up the mess he’d made. Spit trickled from Calder’s rim back to the neighbor’s tongue, only to be swallowed again, used again, pushed in again.

Calder’s thighs shook. His hole clenched and opened, over and over, trying to hold onto the tongue that wouldn’t stop.

This wasn’t teasing. This was worship.
This was what it meant to be taken everywhere at once.

[To Be Continued...]