idk
Echoes of Possession
The asylum’s air was stagnant, smelling of rusted iron and wet concrete, but Sam barely noticed the decay. Every sense he possessed was hyper-focused on the man pressing him against the wall. Colby’s weight was a grounding force, a dark anchor in the shifting shadows of the corridor. The kiss had been a desperate opening salvo, but as they pulled apart just enough to breathe, the power dynamic shifted in a way Colby hadn't expected.
Colby was the one with his hands firmly planted on Sam’s hips, his dark hair a messy curtain over his eyes, looking every bit the predatory top he was. But Sam, despite being pinned, despite the way his blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, had a spark in his blue eyes that was far from submissive. He leaned his head back against the stone, a slow, provocative smirk spreading across his face.
"You think you’re in control because you’ve got me against a wall, Colby?" Sam whispered, his voice dropping into a low, honeyed register that made Colby’s grip tighten instinctively. "You think you’re the one calling the shots tonight?"
Colby blinked, his dark brows furrowing. "I'm the one holding you up, Sammy. I’m the one who’s going to take you apart."
Sam let out a soft, mocking huff of laughter, his hands sliding up Colby’s chest to rest behind his neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Colby’s ear, his voice a lethal weapon. "Then do it. Stop talking about it and show me how much you want to ruin me. Show me how much you’ve been aching to get inside me while we were pretending to look for ghosts. I want to feel how hard you are for me, Colby. I want to feel you shaking because you can’t handle how much you need this."
Colby’s breath hitched. He was used to being the one to lead, the one to tease, but the raw honesty and the sharp edge of Sam’s words were like a physical blow. He felt his blood roar in his ears.
"You’ve got so much to say all of a sudden," Colby rasped, his voice thick with a hunger he couldn't hide.
"I have a lot to say because I know exactly what you’re thinking," Sam countered, his fingers tangling in the dark hair at the nape of Colby’s neck, tugging just enough to make Colby groan. "You’re thinking about how pale my skin is going to look under your hands. You’re thinking about the sounds I’m going to make when you finally stop playing nice and push me to my limit. You want to own me, don't you? You want to hear me beg for it."
Colby didn't answer with words. He growled, a low, guttural sound, and captured Sam’s lips again, more forceful this time. He tasted the challenge in Sam’s mouth, the way the blonde was practically vibrating with the need to be consumed. Colby reached down, fumbling with the button of Sam’s tactical pants, his fingers clumsy with haste.
Sam pulled back just an inch, his eyes locked onto Colby’s. "Don't rush, Brock. I want you to take your time. I want you to look at me while you do it. I want to see the exact moment you lose your mind."
Colby finally managed to shuck Sam’s pants down, along with his own, the cold air of the asylum hitting their heated skin. He lifted Sam higher, and Sam’s legs locked around his waist like a vice. The friction of their bodies meeting was electric, a spark in the absolute darkness of the ward.
"You’re so loud," Colby whispered, his forehead resting against Sam’s. "Someone’s going to hear you."
"Let them," Sam breathed, his voice a jagged edge of desire. "Let the whole world hear how you’re taking me. I want you to hit me so deep I can’t remember my own name. I want you to leave your mark so deep inside me that I can still feel you tomorrow when we’re editing this footage. Every time I see your face on the screen, I want to feel the ghost of you inside me."
Colby couldn't take it anymore. The dirty talk coming from Sam—usually the more reserved, the one who worried about the rules—was the final straw. He guided himself to Sam’s entrance, the preparation they’d done in the silence of the car ride finally paying off. With a slow, steady push, he slid inside.
Sam’s head fell back, a sharp, broken cry echoing off the vaulted ceiling. His fingers dug into Colby’s shoulders, his muscles corded and tense.
"Yeah, just like that," Sam gasped, his blue eyes blown wide, searching Colby’s face in the dim light. "Fuck, Colby. You feel so good. You’re so big, I feel like you’re going to break me open."
Colby groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to move. "Sam, shut up. You’re going to make me finish before I even start."
"No," Sam hissed, his hips tilting up to meet every thrust, demanding more. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Look at me. Look at what you’re doing to me. You’re stretching me so much, Colby. I can feel every inch of you. Is this what you wanted? To see me like this? Wrecked and screaming for you in some godforsaken basement?"
Colby’s pace quickened, his movements becoming more primal, less calculated. The grunge, cool-headed exterior was gone, replaced by a man possessed by the blonde in his arms. He buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and adrenaline.
"You’re so tight," Colby managed to choke out, his hands gripping Sam’s ass, pulling him flush against his hips. "I can’t... Sam, stop talking."
"I won't," Sam whispered, his voice a rhythmic chant against Colby’s ear as the friction built to a fever pitch. "I want you to know exactly how it feels. It feels like you’re taking over my whole body. It feels like I’m drowning in you. Harder, Colby. Don't hold back. I know you want to hurt me just a little bit. I know you want to hear me scream until my throat is raw."
The words were gasoline on a fire. Colby let out a shout, his thrusts becoming heavy and desperate. He pinned Sam’s wrists above his head against the cold stone, his body working with a singular, violent purpose. The contrast between Sam’s pale, worked-out frame and Colby’s darker, leaner build was stark in the shadows, a dance of light and dark.
Sam’s breath was coming in short, ragged sobs now, but he didn't stop. "That’s it... fuck, Colby, yes. Take it. Take everything. I’m yours. I’m your fucking mess. Make me come for you. Make me lose it."
Colby felt the tension in Sam’s body reach a breaking point. The blonde’s legs tightened around his waist, his back arching off the wall as his internal muscles clamped down hard. The sensation was too much. Colby let out a wrecked moan, his own climax hitting him like a freight train. He buried himself as deep as he could go, his forehead pressing into the wall next to Sam’s head as he poured himself into the man he loved more than life itself.
Sam followed almost instantly, his voice cracking as he yelled Colby’s name into the empty hallway, the sound carrying through the abandoned rooms like a haunting. He slumped against Colby, his strength spent, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against Colby’s chest.
For a long time, the only sound was their labored breathing and the distant drip of water somewhere in the depths of the asylum. Colby didn't pull away. He kept Sam pinned there, his face hidden in Sam’s blonde hair, his hands still trembling where they held Sam’s thighs.
"You," Colby finally whispered, his voice raw. "You are a menace, Samuel Golbach."
Sam let out a weak, triumphant chuckle, his head resting on Colby’s shoulder. "Did I break you, Brock?"
Colby pulled back, his blue eyes searching Sam’s face. He looked dazed, his dark hair a disaster, his lips swollen. "You definitely tried. Where did that come from? Since when do you talk like that?"
Sam reached up, his thumb tracing the line of Colby’s jaw. The pale light from a high window caught the moisture in his eyes. "Since I realized how much it gets to you. Since I realized that as much as you like to play the protector, you really just want to be ruined by me."
Colby leaned into the touch, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "I’m not ruined. I’m just... rearranged."
"Good," Sam said, his voice regaining some of its strength. "Because we still have three more floors to investigate, and I’m not done with you yet."
Colby laughed, a genuine, light sound that felt out of place in the dark history of the building. He kissed Sam’s forehead, his grip softening but not releasing. "You’re terrifying. You know that?"
"I’m a ghost hunter, Colby," Sam teased, his eyes sparkling with a renewed mischief. "I know how to handle things that go bump in the night. Especially when the thing bumping is you."
Colby shook his head, finally letting Sam’s feet touch the dusty floor. They stood there for a moment, adjusting their clothes in the dark, the heavy silence of the asylum returning, but it no longer felt oppressive. The tension that had been building for months had been bled out, replaced by a quiet, vibrating intimacy.
As they gathered their gear, Sam picked up his flashlight, the beam cutting through the dark. He turned it on Colby, catching the way the dark-haired man was watching him with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion.
"Ready to go, partner?" Sam asked, his voice steady, though his legs were still a bit shaky.
Colby stepped into the light, reaching out to take Sam’s hand. His fingers interlaced with Sam’s, a silent promise. "Lead the way, Sammy. I’m right behind you."
"I know you are," Sam said, casting one last look back at the wall where they’d just made history. "And next time, I’m going to make sure we find a room with a bed. My back is killing me."
Colby smirked, the grunge-prince persona slipping back into place, but the heat in his eyes remained. "We’ll see. I kind of liked the wall. It gave you less room to run."
Sam just winked, turning toward the stairs. "Who said I was running?"
They moved deeper into the asylum, their flashlights dancing over the peeling paint and the shadows of the past. The ghosts might have been watching, but for Sam and Colby, the only spirits that mattered were the ones they had just set free between them—a raw, vocal, and beautiful chaos that no camera could ever truly capture.