THE FAG HUNTER: Chapter 1, The Prey

CHAPTER 1: THE PREY

Marc closed the book on Procedural Law with a loud thud. He had been studying for six hours, and his head was about to explode. The articles of the Penal Code were jumbled together, forming a legal gibberish that gave him a headache. He got up from the chair, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles tense under his tight-fitting T-shirt, and looked at the clock: 23:47. The police opposition had him absorbed. But when midnight arrived, it was time to hunt.

He approached the mirror in the hallway. 1.85 meters of pure muscle. Square jaw, three-day beard perfectly trimmed, short black hair with shaved temples. Dark eyes that reflected a mix of intelligence and cruelty. He ran his hand over his chest, marked under the black T-shirt. The gym was paying off. He smiled.

He picked up his phone from the table and opened Grindr.

The screen filled with faces and torsos. Desperate profiles looking for a cock to tear their ass apart. Marc slid his finger with slowness, discarding one after another. Too old. Too fat. Too masculine. He was looking for something specific: young boys, vulnerable, who thought they were going to have a night of passion and ended up discovering they had entered the lair of the wolf.

He stopped at a profile without a face photo. "Izan, 22, passive". The description said: "Looking for a morbid active for tonight. I'm discreet and clean". Marc enlarged the torso photo: thin, hairless, white skin. Perfect.

He sent a direct message.

Marc: "What's up. Dominant active, 24 years old. If you're looking to get fucked well, I'm free now."

The response arrived in less than a minute.

Izan: "Hello! Yes, just that I'm looking for jeje. Do you have more photos?"

Marc sent a photo of his naked torso with marked abs and another of his semi-hard cock against the sweatpants. He knew exactly which buttons to press.

Izan: "Damn, dude, you're really good. Where do you live?"

Marc: "Eixample. Can you come in half an hour?"

Izan: "Okay, but... are you morbid? I'm into the dominant role, but not violence or anything hard."

Marc smiled as he typed.

Marc: "Relax, I'm just direct and I like to command. Nothing you don't want too. Are you coming or not?"

Izan: "Okay, give me the address."

Marc gave him the number of a small storage room. A small space with a bed, a sofa, no windows, a mirror, and perfect soundproofing that he had paid for out of his own pocket.

He got ready. He showered quickly, put on deodorant, and changed into gray sweatpants without underwear. He liked that they saw the bulge from the first moment. He left the door of the storage room slightly ajar and sat on the sofa with his legs open, waiting.

Twenty minutes passed, and the doorbell rang. Marc didn't move.

—"Come in, it's open!" he shouted.

The door opened slowly, and ...