Chapter Text
Oliver suppressed a yawn as he hit “cooldown” on his treadmill. He’d moved his workouts to after his late night shift, and he was struggling with the adjustment. At least the benefits of the switch made it worth it. For one thing, the gym was nearly completely empty this late at night, or would it be this early in the morning? Either way, the main benefit was that Oliver had stopped crossing paths with Silas.
Silas had started causing problems for Oliver about a month ago. It started with little verbal barbs that seemed to come out of nowhere. Oliver had been working with weights when a stranger a dozen feet away had called out, “Damn, what’s someone as scrawny as you doing here?” by way of getting his attention.
Initially Oliver had tried to ignore it, startled and unsure of how to even begin to react to that, but the man had come up to him and stepped into his space, making it clear the comment was directed at him. He was just a bit shorter than Oliver, but much broader. For a moment Oliver was distracted by how attractive the man was. A total gym rat by the look of him, though Oliver had never particularly noticed him before. He was broad in the shoulders, had dark hair that was buzzed short, and sharp brown eyes. His loose tank top showed off an impressive chest, and his pants were unnecessarily tight around an uncomfortably well formed ass, and even thicker thighs. Oliver didn’t stare.
“Hey. I’m talking to you. Why are you even here, do you think you’ll be able to get anywhere with that?” He gestured to the bar now hanging in Oliver’s hands. “How about you leave the weights open for someone who can actually use them,” and he yanked the bar from his grasp.
Oliver was too shocked at the time to say anything impactful back. He’d exclaimed something like “What the hell man?” but the man had just laughed him off and turned his back to him and continued his own workout.
Oliver had looked around, to see if anyone else had witnessed it, but whatever onlookers there were had already turned back to mind their own business. He’d considered taking it to management, but ultimately, he wasn’t that confrontational. He tried to justify the choice to not stand up for himself by determining the guy to be a massive asshole, and that what happened was an unfortunate one-off and wouldn’t happen again. If he ever saw him he’d just keep his distance and keep his head down.
That was just the beginning.
Over the next week, the man’s harassment escalated from degrading cat calls to small physical aggressions. He’d knock into Oliver’s shoulder as they passed each other, hard enough that it would make him stumble, and say “Oops!” with a smirk or a laugh. No one ever spoke up, and neither did Oliver. He knew he should, but he was intimidated by everyone else’s lack of action, and he was flat out afraid of the man.
After another week of the abuse, Oliver spiffed up his spine to a dull shine and submitted a complaint against him. The apologetic, but ultimately unmoved receptionist taking his complaint told him the man’s name was Silas, and explained that unfortunately there wasn’t really anything they could do about him, because he was the owner’s nephew.
So Oliver removed himself from the situation as much as he could. He changed his workouts from before his shift to after, even if that meant that he was going in at nearly 3am. Although it was the only gym in town, at least it was open 24 hours, so even if he couldn’t just go somewhere else, he could reduce the chances of running into Silas. He just sacrificed a little sleep to do so. It was fine.
He looked up through the window as he stepped off his treadmill, and his heart sank to his stomach when he saw Silas walking up to the front doors. What the hell was he doing here? It was almost 4am! He speed walked to the locker room, desperate to get out before Silas saw him, but he looked up at just the wrong moment and made direct eye contact with him as he entered the building. His stomach bottomed out and now his only solace was in the fact that he hadn’t brought a change of clothes, or his bag, like he normally did. Thank god the showers were out of order, now he could just grab his phone from his locker and get out.
Unfortunately he wasn’t quick enough, and he could hear someone (and it had to be Silas) walk in. Oliver hoped that the one other person in there playing their music inconsiderately helped mask the sounds of him ducking into one of the two bathroom stalls. He took a deep breath to help center himself, and decided to wait it out in the stall. Just for good measure, he brought his feet up on the toilet seat so his shoes wouldn’t be visible beneath the stall. Hopefully Silas was just looking for an easy mark, and would get discouraged quickly. That didn’t align well with why he was probably here though. This felt so targeted. Nothing like the attacks of opportunity all their previous interactions had been.
Oliver waited out the long minutes switching between indignation that he’d been backed into a toilet stall to avoid a bully, as if this was high school again, and shame that he’d been fucking backed into a toilet stall because he was incapable of standing up for himself. He wished he had his phone. He had no clue how long he’d been waiting. It had probably been long enough right? The guy with the speaker had left, and the locker room outside the stall was very quiet. It felt like it had been maybe fifteen minutes? No way Silas was still out there. Oliver was pretty sure Silas hadn’t even seen him duck into the stall. Hopefully he thought Oliver had managed to give him the slip and had given up on this stupid hunt.
Conscious of staying quiet, Oliver dropped his feet to the floor and snuck up to the door of the stall. He peeped through the (disgustingly) wide gap on the hinge side, before slowly undoing the lock. He pushed open on the door, cringing at the slight creak that echoed around the otherwise silent locker room.
By the time he’d snuck to his locker, he was convinced he was in the clear. With an internal sigh of relief, he left. Right at the doorway to the locker room, right at the point of freedom, Silas stepped out in front of him. Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. In surprise he shouted, “Silas!” He had been so close. His stomach began to sink as Silas let a grin stretch across his face.
Silas stepped into Oliver’s space, and Oliver backpedaled into the locker room, trying to put some distance between the two of them. He hated how much of a coward he was being. He should be pushing past him, not giving him ground.
“Pretty rude of you to make me hunt you down like this,” Silas said, a cruel sort of glee rang clear in his voice. Oliver could feel his guts twisting into knots, the sinking feeling edging into nausea. So it had been intentional. Oliver wondered how the fuck he was supposed to handle this. He tried to ignore the nasty hunch he had that Silas wasn’t fucking around this time, when Silas suddenly reached out and pushed his shoulders. Some part of Oliver expected to fall on his ass, but instead, his back hit a wall of lockers. Hard. His head cracked against the metal and he was left feeling winded and a little light headed. He whimpered lightly, more from the shock than the pain. He hadn’t realized how efficiently Silas had herded him up to the wall. Silas’ grin widened slightly, and Oliver swallowed. He was at a complete loss of what to say or do to get himself out of this situation. Silas crowded closer to him, closer than he’d ever been, and Oliver caught a whiff of his scent. Some thick, woody, masculine scent underlaid with his natural musk. Despite the actual literal fear he was experiencing, Oliver’s dick twitched. He hated to admit it, but Silas was incredibly hot. It was too bad that he was such a prick.
“I’m thinking you’ve earned a punishment,” Silas grabbed the front of Oliver’s shirt in both hands, pulled him away from the wall, and then started walking them in a different direction. “So you don’t get it in your little pea brain that you can try to pull another vanishing act on me.” Oliver stumbled, trying to keep his feet beneath him as he was walked backward somewhere out of sight. It didn’t help that he had started shaking from anxiety.
“P-please-” Oliver started, intending to finish that pathetic attempt at negotiating with “let me go,” but Silas cuts him off.
“Oh shit, did you just say please? You’re literally asking for it?” Silas mocked. “Great,” and his grin turned just a bit sharper. Oh god why did his body have to be reacting like this? Sure, objectively Silas was hot, but why did he have to be so into that predatory expression?
“That’s not-” but before he could finish, Silas shoved him even harder than before. With no wall to catch him this time, Oliver fell down into the shower area of the locker room. He gave a quiet gasp as the sharp little tiles dug into his palms where he had barely caught himself in time. He got up quickly, trying to tell himself it probably wasn’t as much of a scramble as it felt like. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if Silas got to him while he was still down.
“God you really are pathetic, aren’t you?” To his horror, Oliver’s dick does more than twitch at the word ‘pathetic’. It was the way Silas spit it out that got him hot. That heat started to pool in his groin, and his face flushed from the embarrassment of getting hard over being bullied.
“I’m not…” Oliver trailed off before he said the word. He realized a little too late how whiny he sounded.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Silas was pushing into his space again, and out of desperation to not let him notice his tented shorts, Oliver didn't back up. Silas started shoving at his shoulders again, just with the tips of his fingers, to get him moving. Oliver didn’t understand how it had him feeling so unbalanced. How was this guy so strong? Oliver ended up stumbling back against another wall. He kept his eyes locked with Silas’, to make sure Silas didn’t glance down.
“Puh-please,” Silas imitated Oliver, having added a little quaver to it that Oliver was sure wasn’t accurate. He didn’t actually sound that lame, right? “Get real,” Silas sneered at him, then his expression changed to something darker, and quite a bit more threatening. Silas put both hands on Oliver’s shoulders and leaned toward him to whisper in his ear, “Well, since you asked.” He brought his knee up sharply, and Oliver’s world exploded in pain.
Through the white spots in his vision, Oliver caught Silas’ surprised expression. Oh fuck. Oh fuck no. He so desperately hoped that Silas was reacting to the pitiful little sound that had escaped Oliver’s lips, but no, that couldn’t be his luck. Silas was looking down at Oliver’s dick, which hadn’t flagged in the slightest from the pain that was still making his head swim.
Oliver’s face burned. A dark blush started in his cheeks, but rapidly spread up his face and down to his neck. Silas’ evil looking grin was back, wilder than before. Were his pupils blown?
“You’re shitting me,” Silas said, his tone low. “I should have known you were a perverted little freak.” Oliver felt his face darken even more at that. “Are you seriously getting off on this? You’re so pathetic Ollie.”
Oliver started a little at the nickname. He hadn’t realized Silas knew his name at all. He’d never used it.
“God, this is hilarious,” Silas taunted. “I can’t wait to tell people how nasty you really are.” Oliver’s shame choked him, so his desperate cry of “No!” came out as a strangled sound, way too close to a moan for Silas to let him get away with.
“What’s doing it for you, you worthless, perverted piece of shit? Is it me insulting you? Or do you like getting shoved around?” Oliver closed his eyes from the embarrassment, unable to watch Silas’ enjoyment at his expense any longer. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He wanted the floor to crumble beneath him and then bury him under rubble. He wanted Silas’ hands back on him.
“Answer me Ollie,” he said in a slow, sing-song tone. Oliver ignored him, eyes still shut tight to block out the shit-eating grin Silas was surely making at him. He didn’t notice Silas getting right in his face, but he could smell his heady scent and feel the sharp intake of his breath against his face, which was all the warning he got before Silas shouted “Answer me!”
Oliver flinched, he couldn’t help it.
“B-both,” he stammered, and was immediately humiliated that he had admitted it. He was still rock hard, and Silas was so close there was no way he wasn’t aware.
Silas barked out a laugh. “I can’t fucking believe you just admitted that,” Silas sounded overjoyed that he had though. “That’s basically permission, you know that right? You just told me you’re fine with this. That you want this.”
I don’t, Oliver wanted to say, and Get off of me! but the words wouldn’t come out.
He hadn’t realized how big a mistake it was to keep his eyes squeezed shut until after he felt Silas shove him to the ground. He barely got an arm beneath him to catch himself and ended up jamming his elbow into the sharp edges of the tiles. He gave a small cry of shock and pain. He was too startled to get back up right away, but at least one lesson was learned. He kept his eyes on Silas.
He was honestly expecting to be kicked or something else violent, so he found himself frozen in confusion when instead, Silas shifted his own waistband down and pulled his dick out. Oliver felt like he was watching from a third perspective. It was so unexpected that it almost didn’t feel real. What the hell was happening? His eyes were locked on Silas’ cock. It was uncut and a little darker than the rest of him, but matched his stature. It looked heavy, hanging in Silas’ hand. Is he half hard, or is he that big? Oliver was a little startled at the thought. How could that be what he was focused on right now?
Before Oliver could pull himself together, Silas started pissing. Holy fuck. How was this happening? Why wasn’t he doing anything? He gasped as the stream of hot piss hit his chest and quickly soaked his shirt. His only shirt, he remembered. He didn’t have the brain space to process that thought further though, it as all he could do to grasp the reality of the situation. A small part of him recognized the building tension in his groin. He was so hard it ached.
Silas lazily swung his dick down, and the arc of piss was aimed right at Oliver’s prominent bulge. He couldn’t help it, he moaned. How was this so hot? He’d never been interested in piss before, and now here he was, his soaked dick riding to the edge of an orgasm. The sour smell filled his nose and his stomach turned, but his swollen cock refused to lose momentum. Oh Christ, if he came he wouldn't be able to hide it. Silas would absolutely be able to tell.
The humiliation of that thought was ultimately what pushed him over the edge. With a high-pitched groan and a gasp, Oliver was actually coming. He panted through it as his cock pulsed and pumped come into his piss soaked shorts.
Above him, his fears were realized. Silas burst out laughing again. “You came! You seriously just came. From this!?” His laughter made the last of his piss spurt out irregularly before dribbling to a stop. “Oh my god,” he said between laughs. “Holy fuck, that’s so good. You’re fucking nasty Oliver, this is some fucked up shit to be into.”
Oliver felt the heat in his face spread further down beyond his neck and down onto his chest. It was true. He felt disgusting, laying on a dirty shower room floor, covered in someone else’s piss and his own come. How was this so hot?
He was still reeling, and twitching with the tail end of his orgasm, when Silas shook his dick, splattering Oliver’s face with the last droplets of piss, before he tucked himself back into his shorts. Tiny though the droplets were, where one landed in his eye burned, and another tasted salty where it fell into his open mouth. He fought a gag and tried to spit, but the taste remained. Silas laughed a little more and turned to leave. He called over his shoulder as he walked to the door, “Later loser. That was wild.”
Oliver sat there in a daze for another minute while his blood worked its way back to all the places it should have been. His thoughts shifted from What the actual hell just happened? to more important things like, Oh holy fuck, I don’t have anything to change into. The burning embarrassment was back on his face when he realized what he would have to do.
He got up and walked to a faucet, intending to rinse off and wear his wet clothes home, but when he turned the handle his heart plummeted into his stomach in despair. The fucking showers were out of order.
Somehow, he forced himself to walk past the receptionist and managed to not die from the shame. He made it to his car and headed home. His car soon filled with the smell of piss. He tried driving with the windows down, but that just made him cold and smelly. Every breath in was a reminder of what just happened. He hated that by the time he walked through his front door, his cock was throbbing again. He hated himself more for the fact that he had already decided to do something about it. But he hated himself most because he got himself off, laying on his back in his bed, before he even changed out of his clothes.