Karim’s presence filled the house—not just with the scent of sweat and concrete, but with a hungry, controlling energy. Oleg, slim and pale, felt it every time those dark eyes raked over him. Karim was all hard muscle from his construction job, a lean Uzbek panther who’d claimed Oleg’s mother, and now, clearly, wanted her son.

It started with “accidental” touches in the hallway. A rough hand grazing Oleg’s ass. A low command to fetch a beer, Karim’s gaze locked on the boy’s trembling lips. “You look nervous,” Karim growled one evening, his voice like gravel. He cornered Oleg in the laundry room, his calloused palm cupping the bulge in Oleg’s sweats. “This says otherwise.”

Oleg gasped as Karim yanked the sweats down, exposing his smooth, leaking cock. “Such a pretty little dick,” Karim sneered, before dropping to his knees. He didn’t ask. He swallowed Oleg whole, his throat working, his own thick meat straining against his jeans. The wet, slurping sounds were obscene. Oleg came fast, whimpering, but Karim wasn’t done. He stood, unbuckled his belt, and freed a monstrous, veined prick. “Now you taste me,” he ordered, shoving Oleg’s head down. Oleg gagged on the salty, musky girth, tears in his eyes as Karim fucked his throat deep.

“Good boy,” Karim grunted, pulling out. “But you’re just warmed up.”

A few days