RANGER'S FLESH
Darok had spent the whole day getting barked at.
“Back in line.”
“Don’t touch that.”
“You think you know better than me?”
Every word from the ranger was sharp, heavy, and always aimed at him. The girls got the charm—smiles, jokes, easy warmth. Darok got only discipline. Yet the more the ranger snapped, the more Darok’s chest burned with something he couldn’t admit.
That night, their classmates scattered into other rooms, leaving him and the ranger sharing one. Darok tried to act normal, hunched over his notes, when the bathroom door opened.
The ranger came out, towel slung low, water still running down his chest. He looked like he’d been carved out of the forest itself—broad, hard, commanding. Darok’s eyes betrayed him, slipping down, lingering.
The ranger caught it instantly. He stopped. His mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a smirk. Then he tugged the towel looser.
“You staring at me?” His voice was low, sharp. “That what you wanted? All day long, disobeying me, just to get here? Huh?”
Darok froze, heart hammering.
The ranger closed the gap in two steps and slammed a hand against Darok’s chest, pinning him to the wall. His eyes burned.
“You want me? Then prove it. Don’t just look. Do something.”
Darok’s breath caught. “I—”
“Shut up,” the ranger growled. He let the towel drop. “Kiss me. Now.”
The command hit harder than the shove. Darok moved, their mouths colliding: messy, rough, teeth knocking. The ranger grabbed his jaw, controlling the kiss, pulling him in harder. His body pressed tight, hot, grinding.
And then his voice broke out again, harsher, closer to a snarl.
“You think I’m in charge? Not tonight. You’re gonna take me. You hear me? You’re gonna fuck me.”
Darok froze at the words, shocked, but the ranger shoved him toward the bed, eyes blazing.
“Don’t just stand there. I said do it.”
That was the flip. Sudden. Raw. The same man who’d spent the day untouchable now sprawled back on the sheets, muscles tense, chest heaving, still barking orders even as he gave himself over.
“Harder,” he snapped, fists twisting the sheets.
“Don’t stop.”
“Yeah—just like that. Don’t you dare slow down.”
Every command came ragged, broken by gasps, but his tone never softened. He was still the ranger—strict, unrelenting—even as his body betrayed him, arching, straining, demanding more.
The room filled with the sounds of struggle and surrender tangled into one. Darok couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—only obey. The man who had scolded him at every turn was now undone beneath him, but still in control of the pace, forcing Darok to give everything he had.
When it finally ended, the ranger lay back, chest rising and falling, skin glowing with sweat. He reached lazily for his briefs—thin, flesh-colored, clinging indecently—and pulled them on, still watching Darok with that wolfish grin.
“Tomorrow,” he rasped, voice raw but steady, “you do exactly what I say. Out there in the forest. And in here too.”
Darok swallowed hard. He knew he would.
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