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The third floor apartment has been Nigel’s home ever since he was let out on parole, and his first visitor was his stupid fucking parole officer, Bobby Bronson.
When Nigel first met him, he thought he was hot, but the gruffness that came with the body reminded him too much of himself. Just, less charming.
Biweekly now, his officer comes to visit at noon to check up on him. The day of the week changes often to fit Bobby’s schedule, and Nigel can’t fucking keep track of it. It doesn’t matter though, cause he’s rarely out of the house, so he doesn’t need to worry about missing Bobby.
Once a month, Nigel is drug tested, and that’s the thing he really needs to be careful of. Bobby doesn’t care enough to watch Nigel piss in a cup, so Nigel can get by with piss he’s purchased for this exact reason.
But it’s a little different when your parole officer finds you actively playing in the powder.
Three hard knocks at his door has Nigel dropping his credit card, and checking his watch. Fuck, Darko isn’t supposed to be over for another hour.
It’s noon.
It hits Nigel at once, and he cringes. He pretends like he isn’t home, continuing with scraping his cocaine into a neat line.
He may as well get rid of some evidence, he thinks, and he ducks his head so he can inhale the line that he just formed.
There’s four more lines. He won’t be able to hide the rest of them.
“Open up, Nigel. I know you’re in there.” It’s Bobby’s voice. Another three knocks follow.
Nigel scrubs at his nose as he walks over towards his front door, and once he’s confident there’s no powder on his nose, he opens it.
If he misses a parole meeting, he goes back to jail.
Bobby is pissed at the delayed response, and he thrusts the urine sample cup into Nigel’s chest when the door opens. “It’s test day, big man.”
Nigel smiles, and he opens the door wider so Bobby can enter. Sure, Bobby doesn’t watch him piss, but he does have to pretend like he might.
Bobby is an observant man, but it doesn’t take any special skills of observation to be able to notice the array of drugs laid out on the coffee table in Nigel’s living room.
“Did you seriously fucking forget about our house visit Nigel, or did you just decide to be a moron?” Bobby scoffs. He examines the table, noting the different drugs thrown about. Coke, weed, and some cigarettes. The beers are still cold by the looks of it. There’s condensation gathered on the bottles.
“I didn’t put it on my calendar,” Nigel explains, nodding over to the empty calendar next to his fridge. He sets the urine cup on the table that hosts all his substances, “Ironic that this is a piss test visit, isn’t it?”
“Un-fucking believeable.” Bobby plops down on the couch, and puts his feet up on the table. The vibration causes the lines that Nigel made to disperse into a mess on the table.
Nigel clenches his jaw and picks up one of his blunts, digging in his pocket for his lighter as he and Bobby stare at one another. Nigel wants to snap at him for fucking up his coke lines, but he really can’t. He’s stupid but he’s not that stupid.
He lights the joint, and inhales deeply. His lips twitch when he inhales the second time to get his lungs full of the smoke. Bobby watches, and unbuttons his top button, sensing that this is going to be a prolonged visit.
Nigel plops down beside him, and breathes out the smoke he breathed in. It’s lost its color with how long he held it within his lungs, but Bobby still follows the exhale with his eyes.
Nigel flips the blunt around in his hand and offers it to Bobby. The officer just stares at the substance, resisting the urge. The smell of it is intoxicating. He reaches for a beer instead.
Nigel tempts him farther, “This is the good shit from Jamaica,” he takes another inhale, and blows it out after a moment, tipping his head back this time to allow the smoke to escape into the air.
“When did you go to Jamaica?”
“I didn’t.”
Bobby smacks the top of the beer bottle against Nigel’s beat up coffee table, yet again making the coke spread further about. He leans back on the couch and tops the bottle up so he can take a long swing.
“I can’t smoke with this job. They do surprise drug tests.”
Nigel smirks, “But they allow you to drink on duty?”
Bobby shoots him a strong look, and takes another swig, “To deal with this situation you’ve put me in, I don’t think I can be sober.”
“How often are you tested, on average.” Nigel asks.
“Maybe every four months,” Bobby takes another sip of his beer. He’s nearly half way through already.
“That’s enough time to get this out of your system,” Nigel offers the joint to Bobby again.
“Of course you’d know that fact,” Bobby rolls his eyes. Though, he does take the blunt.
The officer brings the drug up to his lips, and wraps his lips around the tip. He inhales, and it’s smooth on his tongue and down his throat. When he finishes his long pull, he hums in satisfaction. “Fuck, that’s good.”
He speaks with his mouth half closed, trying to keep the smoke he inhaled in his lungs. “Exactly what I needed after the fucked up day I’ve had,” he laughs, in a self-deprecating way.
“You may as well tell me about it,” Nigel takes the blunt back from Bobby, and inhales yet another time.
Bobby covers his eyes with his arm, tipping his head back so far his adam’s apple sticks out, “I visited one other parolee this morning,” he starts, “and she hadn’t expected me either. She answered me in a sexy bunny costume.”
“Kinky,” Nigel raises his eyebrows. “I bet you were envious. You can find them at sex shops.”
“She was expecting her spouse, and she nearly shit herself when she met my eyes.” Bobby ignores Nigel’s comment about the implied state of his roleplay desires.
“Nah, she probably wanted to fuck you instead.” Nigel laughed. “Why wait for her spouse?”
Bobby grunts, “You say some weird fucking shit sometimes, Nigel.”
“What? You’re hot.” Nigel states it as a fact, before he inhales his second draw of the blunt. It’s starting to burn low.
Bobby furrows his eyebrows, and turns to give Nigel the ‘what the fuck’ look, but instead he’s met with the blunt to his lips. Nigel is holding the joint, and he’s telling Bobby to take a draw.
This day can’t get any weirder, so Bobby just complies. He takes a long inhale, and just as he’s about to exhale, Nigel moves in close.
Bobby tries to jerk away, but Nigel grabs him by the neck and keeps him in place. He makes eye contact with Bobby, and he notices how dilated his pupils are.
Neither of them are sure who closes the gap, but they’re kissing with an unknown and welcome passion as Bobby exhales through his nose.
Nigel, being the ever eager and pushy bastard he is, shoves his tongue into Bobby’s mouth, and the officer accepts it with a grunt.
They move as one, with equal parts aggression and passion, mixing together to create a beautiful and unforgettable moment. Nigel wants to ruin it though, by being a fucking idiot.
He slides his hand down from Bobby’s neck, to his belt, and tugs at the tail that secures his buckle. Bobby finally moves, with his reflexes suppressed by drugs, he’s not as fast, but he grabs Nigel’s arm and digs his nails in.
“Nigel,” Bobby growls, using his grip on Nigel to push him back. “I’m straight. I was married to a woman; I fuck women.”
“Aw, but your body is so responsive to men,” Nigel protests, eyeing Bobby’s obviously tented jeans. “You don’t get the satisfaction you need from fucking whores from the club. You need someone you know.”
“I don’t know you,” Bobby claims, standing strong when Nigel starts to kiss on his neck. He tries to ignore the fuzzy feeling he gets in his stomach from the rough stubble on his skin. “And you don’t know what I need.”
“Your cock gives me a pretty good fucking hint at what you need.” Nigel purrs, treading his fingers through Bobby’s hair. “Either you’re just desperate, or you’re interested in fucking me.”
Bobby nearly chokes on his beer that he’d picked up again as a distraction.
Nigel stands and unbuckles his belt in one motion. He waves to the table in front of them, “Help yourself, I’ll be back ASAP, bunny.”
The officer opens his mouth to speak, but he hesitates. He wants to tell Nigel off, tell him that he’s not a bunny, and that he is very much not interested in fucking him.
But only one of those is a lie.
And he’s certainly no pathetic prey animal.
Bobby grabs one of the packs of cigarettes, and smacks it against his palm before opening the pack and lighting one.
He wonders how Nigel’s smoke detectors don’t constantly go off with how much he smokes in here, but then he realizes that the detectors are missing from the mounts on the walls and ceilings.
Bobby smirks, pulling from the cigarette, and distributing a much needed dose of nicotine. That is one thing that he and Nigel really have in common. They’re heavy smokers.
Nigel has been gone for about two minutes, and Bobby can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s doing. It couldn’t have been thirty seconds later of wondering before Nigel reveals himself.
He’s completely naked, and he holds only a condom and a bottle of lube. Bobby’s eyes widen at the sight, and his eyebrows shoot up. “If you think you’re gonna fuck me, you’re terribly fucking mistaken.”
Nigel smirks, and he sets the lube on the table. He picks up the pack of cigarettes, and tosses the condom at Bobby so it lands on his stomach. “I’m not fucking you. Not today.”
“Not ever,” Bobby swears, unbuckling his belt and lifting his hips so he can pull off his jeans and boxers in one motion. Nigel lets out a short laugh, and sparks his lighter a few times before he’s able to light his cigarette.
He moves to sit on the couch, and with the cigarette dangling from his lips, he helps Bobby unbutton his white shirt.
Bobby’s chest is hairy, and his abs are more pronounced than you’d expect a middle aged man’s body to look. The happy trail on his stomach looks so tempting to run a tongue down.
Nigel appreciates the fully nude form of his parole officer, and he inhales his cigarette again. It clears his mind, and helps his anxiety about this situation. On the outside he’s confident and certain about what he’s doing, but on the inside he’s shitting bricks that he’s doing everything the wrong fucking way.
Bobby rips open the condom, and he makes sure he’s got it the right way around before he slides it down his cock. The condom is just slightly loose, but it’ll stay on.
Nigel doesn’t even finish his cigarette before he’s straddling Bobby’s stomach. He reaches around for the lube he’d brought with him, and he takes another draw from his cigarette before he opens the bottle to drizzle it over Bobby’s dick.
The officer watches with too much interest for a straight man as Nigel prepares him to be ridden. Bobby can’t help but reach out and touch certain places on Nigel’s body. If he’s already balls deep in this situation, he may as well make the most of it.
The least daring place he decides to explore with his fingertips has to be Nigel’s neck tattoo. The most daring, however, has to be the tip of his cock, or maybe the whole handful he got of Nigel’s balls.
Nigel holds his cigarette between two fingers, and leans back as he works on easing himself onto Bobby’s dick. Nigel did a quick stretch of his hole in his bedroom, so he’s not in too much pain. His thighs are tense, and his arms flex as he slowly lowers his hips.
Bobby watches in awe as Nigel swallows him into his ass, and he grabs onto Nigel’s hips to hopefully relieve some of the weight he’s having to hold up.
He knows he’s doing something well when Nigel’s face turns from one of concentration to one of relaxed pleasure. Bobby can feel Nigel’s walls twitching around him as he flexes and relaxes his muscles, and he doesn’t think any vaginal sex he’s had has ever felt this good.
Nigel groans when he finally makes it to Bobby’s hilt, and he takes a breather to smoke some more of his cigarette.
“Holy shit,” Bobby swears, wiggling his hips just to feel how tight Nigel is.
Nigel smirks, and continues to smoke his cigarette as he starts to ride Bobby. With one hand he supports himself on Bobby’s chest, and with the other he gets his nicotine fix.
Bobby can’t help but watch the way his lips wrap around the butt of the cigarette, and how his cheeks cave as he takes a long pull. Now, he wishes that he got Nigel to suck his cock before jumping into this.
Nigel finishes off his cigarette, and pauses briefly to lean back and put it in the ashtray. Over Bobby’s stomach, there are litterings of Nigel’s cigarette ashes. He really doesn’t mind when Nigel rides him so good.
He leans back now, both his hands supporting him as he lifts and drops his hips with increasing force. In this position, Bobby’s tip brushes against his prostate, and he moans when it becomes a consistent occurrence.
The moan is sweet music to Bobby’s ears, and he digs his nails into Nigel’s hips. He feels the strong urge to buck up into Nigel, but he can’t. It frustrates him more than it should, and he slowly but surely manages to get Nigel off of him, and throw him to the side.
He lays with his thighs spread on the couch, and Bobby doesn’t waste time climbing between those honey thighs to continue what they started.
Bobby leans down to mouth at Nigel’s throat, and his teeth nip at the patch of ink that covers his pulse point. His hips make strong and quick grinding motions into Nigel, and he can gauge how well he’s doing by the soft sounds Nigel makes.
The louder groans means he’s doing well, and the soft pants mean he’s strayed away. Bobby’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but he does know there’s something in there that is making Nigel more responsive.
Nigel reaches down to touch his cock, and he strokes with rough pulls. He forgets his English, and pretty soon he’s slinging swears in Romanian.
Bobby can assume all of what Nigel is saying, especially when he repeats the same words of phrases over and over again.
“Dă-mă dracului,” seems to be the most common of the terms, and Nigel moans it with a gruff snarl in his voice.
“Harder,” he demands, throwing his head back onto the armrest, “Fuck me harder, bunny.”
Bobby rolls his eyes, and he considers stopping out of spite. But he is close himself, and he doesn’t want to ruin this high that he’s having. The drugs are just enhancing his feelings.
Nigel’s back arches when Bobby slams his cock into his ass, and their skin slaps loudly where they meet. The sound repeats at a rapid pace as Bobby delivers what his sexual partner requests.
He hopes that Nigel will come soon, because he feels really close himself, and if he keeps up this pace, he won’t be able to help it when he orgasms.
Nigel continues to stroke his cock, and his noises stop briefly before they pick up again, and that’s when Bobby realizes that Nigel is coming. Bobby groans and watches with heavy interest as Nigel’s cock ejaculates.
He thanks the lord that Nigel came early, because he orgasms right afterwards, and becomes sensitive much faster than normal. He has to pull out quickly, because Nigel is so tight, and being inside of him overstimulates his cock.
Bobby watches Nigel’s hole pucker, and he slips off his condom while he’s still erect. Nigel wants so badly to put that cock in his mouth, but he’ll wait until next time.
And he’s certain there will be a next time.
Nigel closes his legs, and rises so he can kiss Bobby tenderly. It’s a change of pace from the rest of their kisses, but neither of them complain.
Bobby can foresee a lot of more interesting visits to Nigel’s apartment in the future.
When he gets back to the office, he explains (lies) that he misplaced the urine sample, and promises his higher up that he’ll visit Nigel again later this week to collect another.
And not “lose” it this time.