At the Wolf’s Table
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
Randy had waited two days.
He hadn’t messaged Liam right after their first night together. He let the silence stretch, not harsh, just deliberate. He wanted to see if Liam would reach out, fidget, send something nervous or cute.
He didn’t.
That earned some respect from Randy and it wasn’t too long before he finally opened the chat.
Randy: Busy Friday night?
Barely a minute passed.
Randy smirked.
Liam: No. What’s up?
Randy: Come out for a drink. Meet me near campus.
Liam: Okay, sure. Where?
Randy gave the name of the place only an hour before they were meant to meet. A small bar tucked away just near the sprawl of the UofT campus — not loud, not flashy, not crawling with students, but not formal either.
When Thursday evening came, Randy waited outside, hands in his jacket pockets, the cool night air brushing against his face. He watched people drift by: couples, small groups, one or two students laughing too loudly on their phones.
Liam showed up five minutes late, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair slightly wind-tossed, breath just a little short.
“Hey,” Liam said, smiling, a little breathless as he tugged his jacket tighter.
Randy tilted his head slightly.
“You’re late.”
Liam blinked, thrown off for a second, then gave a sheepish little laugh. “Transit. Sorry.”
Randy let the pause stretch just long enough to make Liam shift his weight slightly before his mouth curved faintly.
“Come on.”
He pushed the door open and walked in, letting Liam follow closely behind.
Inside, the bar had a casual warmth that drew them in. Small tables, dark wood, a mix of laughter and quiet conversation. Randy led the way, threading through without asking, and chose a table near the back.
He sat, stretching his legs under the table, watching Liam settle across from him.
Liam gave a small, slightly nervous smile, his fingers brushing back his hair. “Hi again.”
Randy smirked faintly — seductively. “Hey.”
Liam shifted, looking down at the menu, though his eyes weren’t really reading it. There was a restless energy under his skin, a mix of shyness after their last encounter and a clear eagerness to be here again.
The server appeared beside them, notebook ready.
“What can I get you both?”
Liam smiled politely. “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, whatever you —”
“He’ll have a Heineken,” Randy said calmly, eyes still on him. “Draught.”
The server looked at Liam questioningly. Liam nodded at her in the affirmative and she responded in kind, jotting it down without hesitation.
“Same for me,” Randy added.
Liam looked at Randy, caught for half a second, then let out a soft, almost shy laugh. “Beer it is then!”
Randy watched him carefully, noting the reaction, the lack of resistance, the way Liam simply adjusted, accepted, smoothed it over.
Good.
He leaned back slightly, one boot sliding forward to press lightly against Liam’s ankle. No hard shove, no playful nudge. Just contact.
Liam’s lips curved faintly, his shoulders loosening as the moment stretched.
Randy let his mouth curl at the corner, fingers tapping once on the table before falling still.
This wasn’t about drinks or orders. It was about seeing if Liam would follow or run. If he would chafe under Randy’s control or flourish.
And so far, Liam was doing well.
The drinks arrived. Two cold glasses set down between them, pale gold, foam clinging to the rims.
Liam gave a little smile, fingers wrapping around his glass, shoulders still slightly tight.
Randy watched him quietly, letting the moment stretch before speaking.
“Your hair looked better the other night,” he said casually.
Liam blinked, smile faltering for a second. “Oh?”
Randy let his eyes trail deliberately over Liam’s hair — neatly brushed now, parted clean, every line polished.
“I liked it messy and tangled,” Randy said, voice low. “The way it looked after I’d finished with you.”
Liam’s breath hitched softly, his hand tightening slightly on the glass. Color rose in his cheeks, spreading fast.
Randy smirked faintly. Good again.
He took a slow sip of his beer, eyes never leaving Liam’s face. Watched the way the boy ducked his head slightly, the quick flicker of his tongue across his bottom lip, the faint tremor in his fingers as he lifted the glass for a sip.
This was the way Randy liked his boys best. Slightly frantic, slightly off centre. Just dying to relieve the quiet, cloying tension curling and pulling under every small moment, every glance, every unfinished word.
He let the silence hang for another breath before leaning in slightly, voice just above the hum of the bar.
“Relax, Liam. You’re still adorable.”
Liam gave a shaky little laugh, cheeks still warm, eyes darting up and back down. “Thanks,” he murmured.
Randy leaned back again, satisfied, letting his boot slide once more against Liam’s ankle under the table, just a reminder.
He smiled faintly to himself.
The night was young.
They sipped their drinks quietly for a moment. Liam’s eyes flicked up, then back down, fingers lightly rolling the glass between his palms.
Randy watched him over the rim of his own glass. He liked the way Liam was trying to hold himself steady, trying to act relaxed when his body gave him away in small ways — the twitch of his shoulders, the faint tap of his foot against the floor.
“So,” Liam said softly, the word slipping out like a small exhale. “Do you do this often?”
Randy arched a brow faintly. “What’s this?”
Liam gave a nervous little laugh. “Take guys out for beer after you…” He trailed off, his cheeks warming again, eyes darting away.
Randy let the moment hang, taking a slow sip, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth. “After I what, Liam?”
Liam gave a helpless little shrug. “You know.”
Randy leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, voice low. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Liam’s breath caught just faintly. “Yeah.”
“Then don’t worry about anyone else.”
That flushed Liam even darker, his hand tightening slightly on his glass. Randy stretched his leg out again under the table, his boot brushing firmly along Liam’s ankle, then up to his calf.
The boy stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, just slightly, eyes flicking up, mouth parting as if to say something, then closing again.
Good.
Randy leaned back once more, calm, composed, watching the small signs stack up. Liam wasn’t performing. He wasn’t pushing back or bratting for attention. He was just here, raw, a little off balance, wanting more even if he didn’t know how to ask for it.
Randy smirked faintly to himself.
This was a very good start.
They let the drinks carry them for a while, conversation slipping into easier rhythms. Liam relaxed in small degrees, his shoulders lowering, his fingers loosening on the glass, his voice smoothing out as the minutes passed.
“So you’re from here?” Liam asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes warming.
“Always,” Randy said.
“Born and raised?”
Randy nodded faintly. “Grew up in the east part of the city. Parents still live there. Nothing special.”
Liam smiled softly. “That’s kind of nice, though.”
Randy sipped his beer, watching him over the rim. “You from here?”
Liam shook his head, a small, self-conscious laugh bubbling up. “No. Small town. About an hour and a half away. Came here for med school.”
“Miss it?”
Liam gave a little shrug. “Not really. There wasn’t much for me there.” He took a slow sip, then added, “My parents run some shipping company — logistics, warehouses, trucking — I don’t know. Inherited it from my great-grandparents. I was never interested in the business side.”
Randy smirked faintly. “Rich kid, then?”
Liam flushed slightly, laughing under his breath. “Not really. I mean… maybe? I don’t think about it much.”
Randy let that sit, his eyes drifting briefly over Liam’s neat collar, the good watch, the well-made shoes. Details that spoke even when Liam didn’t.
“City’s a bit rougher than where you’re from,” Randy murmured softly.
Liam’s eyes flicked up, wide, just for a second — then he laughed again, a touch nervous but not pulling back. “Guess I’m learning that.”
Randy’s boot brushed once more against Liam’s leg under the table.
“Good,” Randy murmured, his voice smooth, low.
They ordered food without fuss — burgers, fries, simple. Liam looked visibly relieved when Randy chose something casual, his shoulders loosening a little, his smile relaxing.
The conversation drifted easily while they waited: light talk about school, rotations, the occasional sharp, dry comment from Randy about hospital life that made Liam laugh softly.
When the plates arrived, the table filled with warmth, the scent of crisp fries and grilled meat curling up between them.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Then, under the table, Randy shifted his boot, brushing lightly along Liam’s ankle.
Liam tensed faintly, glanced up in surprise.
Randy didn’t look at him. He just let his boot slide higher, slow, unhurried, up along Liam’s calf.
Liam’s breath hitched audibly. His thighs pressed closer together.
“Randy,” he whispered under his breath, cheeks coloring as he shifted slightly in his seat.
Randy kept eating, eyes on his plate, mouth faintly curved.
“Oh god — don’t, not here…,” Liam murmured again, more desperate this time, his hand tightening on the edge of the table. His hips twitched subtly, a quiet, helpless move, his cock clearly hard, straining under the table, pinned awkwardly by his jeans.
Randy’s boot pressed a little more firmly, sliding higher, just brushing the inside of Liam’s thigh.
“Please,” Liam gasped softly, his voice hitching into a quiet, breathy laugh. His fork paused halfway to his mouth, trembling slightly in his grip.
Randy finally looked up, his eyes sharp, cool, unbothered.
“Eat your dinner,” he murmured, his voice smooth, low.
Liam let out a shaky, helpless sound, cheeks flushed deep, his body visibly trembling as he forced himself to pick the fork back up, his hard cock straining in his jeans under the table, completely ignored by the man teasing him.
Randy smiled faintly to himself, his boot still resting just where Liam couldn’t escape.
Liam shifted again in his seat, another small, frustrated squirm, trying to adjust the pressure in his jeans without being obvious. His cheeks were flushed deep now, his lips parted, breath coming in soft, quick pulls.
Randy’s boot stayed right where it was, pressed snugly to the inside of Liam’s thigh, unrelenting.
“Everything okay?” Randy asked smoothly, eyes steady, lifting his beer for a slow, measured sip.
Liam let out a breathy, almost helpless laugh. “Yeah… just… it’s a little hard to focus right now.”
Randy tilted his head slightly, mouth curving faintly. “On your dinner?”
Liam bit his lower lip, cheeks burning. “Mhm.”
“You should really try to finish it,” Randy murmured, voice low, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you leaving hungry.”
Liam gave a shaky laugh, pressing his thighs closer together, his cock throbbing hard under the table, the teasing weight of Randy’s boot keeping him pinned just where he wanted him.
“Please…” Liam whispered, the word slipping out like a half-laugh, half-gasp, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “You’re gonna drive me crazy.”
Randy smirked faintly, his boot sliding just a little higher, a quiet, deliberate pressure that made Liam’s breath hitch sharply.
“I don’t think you want me to stop, Liam,” Randy murmured softly.
Liam let out a muffled, desperate little sound, head ducking slightly, his hand gripping the edge of the table as he fought to pull himself back together, to lift his fork again, to act like he could still focus — even as every inch of his body buzzed under Randy’s calm, unyielding teasing.
Randy leaned back, content, watching the quiet, exquisite tension coil tighter.
There was no rush.
Liam was already exactly where Randy wanted him
Liam let out a soft, shaky breath, his fingers easing slightly on the table edge. His fork hovered above his plate, trembling faintly before he set it down, just for a moment.
He didn’t tell Randy to stop again.
Instead, his body slowly adjusted, small, barely noticeable shifts. His thighs parted just a little more, the tense squeeze of his shoulders softening. His breath was still uneven, but there was a flicker of something new beneath it.
Acceptance.
Maybe even… enjoyment.
Randy watched him carefully, eyes sharp, mouth faintly curved.
Good.
He let his boot rest, not pressing harder, not pushing further, just keeping the weight there, the quiet claim, the steady, teasing reminder.
Liam’s cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly parted, his eyes flicking up once to meet Randy’s gaze before darting away again, a shy, breathless little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Randy leaned forward slightly, voice low, smooth.
“Good boy.”
Liam let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, tipping his head down. “Thank you, Sir.”
Randy’s grin sharpened faintly. He liked that answer.
The tension hung between them, rich and humming, a live wire stretched under every small glance, every subtle movement.
Randy let the silence play, fingers tapping lightly on the table, watching Liam shift, watching him pulse under the teasing pressure, not crumbling, not squirming away, not trying to flip the moment into something light.
He was staying right in it.
Good fucking, boy.
Randy finished the last sip of his beer, eyes flicking briefly to the door.
It was almost time to leave.
They stepped out into the cool night, the hum of the bar falling away behind them, streetlights throwing long shadows across the sidewalk.
Liam shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, cheeks still flushed, his breath slipping out in small, quick puffs. He kept glancing sideways at Randy, shy, eager flicks of his eyes, a subtle bounce in his step, his body humming with restless, charged energy.
Randy walked calmly, unhurried, his hands relaxed at his sides.
After a few blocks, Liam let out a soft laugh, tipping his head down, then glancing up again.
“So… your place?”
The words came out lightly, but his voice was tight, hungry at the edges, his pupils wide, his shoulders taut under his jacket.
Randy turned slightly, slowing, his mouth curving faintly.
He stepped in close, one hand lifting to rest just lightly at the side of Liam’s neck. Liam tilted his head up instinctively, eyes fluttering half-shut, lips parting softly.
Randy leaned in, close enough that their mouths brushed — and then he kissed him.
It was brief, but hot. Not rushed, not teasing, just one firm, sure, claiming kiss, deep enough to leave Liam breathless, his knees going a little weak under him.
When Randy pulled back, Liam blinked up at him, dazed, lips slightly swollen, his whole body humming with want.
Randy smiled faintly.
“Go home, Liam.”
Liam stood there, blinking in the cool night air, a soft, breathless laugh catching in his throat.
“You’re not…?” He trailed off, his voice a little shaky, his shoulders tensing as he took half a step after Randy. “I thought…”
Randy turned slightly, his mouth curving faintly, hands sliding easily into his jacket pockets.
“No,” he said simply.
Liam flushed, his lips parting in a frustrated little breath, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. His jeans were tight, his body pulsing with restless, unsatisfied heat, the faint tremor in his fingers betraying just how keyed up he still was.
He let out another quiet, helpless laugh, shaking his head faintly as his eyes flicked up to meet Randy’s, wanting, waiting, but finding no offer in return.
Randy watched him calmly, his sharp gaze taking in the flush on Liam’s skin, the tension wound tight under his careful, polished surface.
He stepped back once, let his eyes hold for a second longer, then turned and began walking away, the slow, measured pace of someone who didn’t need to check if they were being followed.
He could feel Liam’s gaze lingering behind him, hot, unsteady, hanging there even as the distance stretched.
Randy’s mouth curved faintly, more to himself than to anyone else.
Liam had wanted more tonight. Wanted it badly.
Randy’s steps carried him deeper into the night, the city noise folding around him again, quiet satisfaction thrumming under his skin, sharp and sure, knowing exactly how much he’d left Liam aching.
It wasn’t about control for control’s sake.
It was about seeing who could live in the wanting.
And Randy was curious to see how long Liam would last.
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Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
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