You want him now ()

You casually approach him and can see him twitching just a bit when your hips touch his backside. The pheromons will only take a few seconds to hit, during which he could tell you to fuck off, or switch the lock back. He remains in control, of course, at a primordial level. But he does not activate it. This is your greenlight. You start whispering in his ear:

• Hey there. It's dangerous to come around here, especially for a pretty thing like you.

(he remains silent, unmoving)

• What, are you scared? you grin, Because you should be. Many bad men out here, looking to cause trouble.

Just speaking to him like that, and the feeling of his arched butt on your crotch, is making you hard. He can feel it. He can feel your size. And you are big, these days.

• You know what, I think you and I sould get out of here. Take a walk, what do you think?

You put your hand on his hip. You're not asking. He manages to moan, or gurgle, something. Something like a "No", or a "Yes". He does not reactivate the lock, which is all that matters. You call for the bus to stop. This is not a nice part of town, perfect.

You both walk outside in the empty street. He is blushing and cannot look up. The effects of pheromons on some Pleasureboys are so... overwhelming. That is essentially why they ride. And come back to it, whatever happens. Whoever happens. You pull him gently toward an alleyway. Your words aren't so gentle. Full of half-insults, threats, and playful mockery. He likes that. You can see it in his eye when you push him against a brick wall, grinning. You grab his ass, his legs, tell him everything you want to do to him, make him say he wants you, reluctantly, then willingly. You turn him around.

A few minutes later, the yoga pants are on his ankles. Your jeans, on yours too. He is moaning and panting, moving up and down, your cock between his buttcheeks. He sweats a bit as he grinds on it, still annoyed, still unable to resist, still ashamed and high on pheromons. You leave him to regain his spirits like that: arched, panting, sweaty, his ass covered in your cum. You smile, riding your way back home. Out of habit, you left him your phone number, in case he wants another round.