Winter Flames in Queenstown NZ

[BondiRaw]

The air in Queenstown smelled of pine and snowmelt, crisp and biting as it slid through the narrow streets. From the balcony of his small apartment, Andre watched the last sliver of sunset bleed into the Remarkables. The mountains stood tall and indifferent, much like the man who had just left his bed.

Tevita.

A force of nature.

Broad shoulders, thick arms, deep brown skin slick with sweat from training. When he arrived at Andre’s place, he never spoke much. Just a look, a nod, and then his hands would be on Andre—lifting, gripping, pulling. He wasn’t the type to ask permission. He simply took, bareback, deep, leaving his mark inside.

Andre never protested. How could he?

There was something addictive about Tevita’s roughness, the way his body crashed into Andre’s like a storm. The way he kissed—possessive, teeth scraping against lips, his tongue forcing its way in, tasting like beer and adrenaline. They never went on dates. Their meetings always started with Tevita pushing Andre against the wall, stripping him down, bending him over whatever surface was closest.

Andre loved every second of it.

But Tevita wasn’t his. Not really.
 

(to be continued)

[BondiRaw]

Part 2: Taken

Andre could still feel him. The heat of Tevita’s body lingered, sweat cooling on his skin, muscles aching from the relentless pace of their last encounter. His hole throbbed—raw, stretched, used—a constant reminder of the way Tevita had taken him, claimed him, filled him. He leaned against the balcony railing, fingers trembling as he brought a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply, trying to steady himself.

But there was no escaping it.

The scent of sex and sweat still clung to his sheets. His lips were swollen from Tevita’s bruising kisses. His thighs were marked, fingers having dug deep enough to leave prints, proof of how desperately Tevita had held him down, fucked him open, bred him without restraint.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

A low vibration buzzed from his phone. His breath caught. Tevita.

“Open the door.”

Andre exhaled sharply, flicking the cigarette into the night.

He didn’t need to ask why.

The knock came just as he reached the door. He hesitated for only a second before unlocking it, stepping back as Tevita pushed inside.

No words. No greeting. Just heat, tension, raw hunger.

The door had barely shut before Tevita grabbed him, his massive hands gripping Andre’s jaw, tilting his head back, lips crashing down hard, rough, a kiss that was more like a claim. His tongue forced its way in, tasting of beer and sweat and something darker—something possessive.

Andre melted. He always did.

Tevita’s hands were already pulling at his clothes, fingers yanking his shirt over his head, his belt unbuckled with a single sharp pull. Andre barely had time to gasp before he was spun around, shoved against the wall.

Tevita’s breath was hot against his ear. “Missed this hole.”

Andre’s knees almost buckled.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated against his back as Tevita shoved his jeans down, exposing him, making him vulnerable. One hand gripped his hip, fingers digging deep, while the other spread him open, teasing, testing, rubbing the mess Tevita had left inside him earlier.

“Still dripping,” Tevita murmured, his tone thick with satisfaction.

Andre whimpered.

Tevita didn’t waste time. His thick cock—hot, heavy, still damp from the last round—pressed against Andre’s entrance, teasing, stretching.

“No prep?” Andre gasped, barely able to catch his breath.

Tevita growled. “Didn’t need it last time.”

Then he pushed in.

Bare. Deep. Unstoppable.

Andre cried out, fingers scrambling against the wall for purchase as Tevita filled him again, stretching him wide, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. His breath hitched, his body adjusting to the impossible thickness, the familiar burn.

Tevita stilled for only a second, gripping Andre’s throat, holding him in place, before pulling back and slamming in again, harder, deeper, faster.

Andre couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—only feel.

The room was filled with the slap of skin, the rough grunts of a man who didn’t know how to hold back, the wet, obscene sounds of being taken, owned.

And Andre loved it. Craved it. Needed it.

Tevita’s fingers dug into his hips, nails scratching, marking, claiming. His pace was relentless, each thrust pushing Andre higher, drowning him in blinding pleasure and overwhelming submission.

Then Tevita grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, lips at his ear.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous, raw.

Andre shuddered, clenching around him, shaking.

Tevita’s thrusts turned brutal, desperate, his cock swelling, his body tensing. Andre knew what was coming, could feel the telltale tightening of the muscles, the sharp intake of breath.

Then—heat.

Tevita slammed in one last time, burying himself deep, thick ropes of cum flooding Andre’s insides, coating him, marking him.

Andre moaned, his own orgasm ripping through him, untouched, his cum splattering against the wall as his body convulsed, locked in pleasure, lost in Tevita’s grip.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, without a word, Tevita pulled out, his cum dripping from Andre’s wrecked hole, sliding down his thighs.

Andre barely had the strength to stand.

But he already knew.

This wasn’t over.

Tevita wasn’t done.

And neither was he.