Through the Wall: A Gay Cuckolding Fantasy

By the time Daniel arrived at the bar, his husband had already found someone.

Marcus was standing near the back, laughing at something a tall man had said. The stranger leaned close to hear his answer. Marcus didn’t step away.

Daniel stopped just inside the door. Marcus spotted him over the man’s shoulder and held his gaze. Then, with the smallest smile, he turned back to their conversation.

That smile was for Daniel. So was everything that followed.

They had planned the evening together. Marcus could flirt, choose someone he liked, and take him home if they both wanted to. Daniel could change his mind at any point. They’d said all of it aloud that morning, sitting at the kitchen table with their coffees going cold.

It had sounded easy then.

Now Daniel watched the stranger rest a hand on Marcus’s arm, and his grip tightened around his glass.

A few minutes later, Marcus came over alone.

“His name’s Alex,” he said. “He’s funny. A little too pleased with himself.”

“You like that.”

“I do.” Marcus looked at him carefully. “How are you?”

Daniel glanced past him. Alex was waiting at the bar, politely pretending not to watch them.

“Nervous,” Daniel said. “I want to stay.”

Marcus’s expression softened. “Good. Because I want you here.”

He kissed Daniel, brief and familiar, then went back to Alex. Daniel felt steadier for about thirty seconds. After that, Marcus leaned in to say something against Alex’s ear, and the jealousy came rushing back.

That was the part Daniel had struggled to explain when they first talked about it. He loved being Marcus’s husband. He loved the life they had built, the shared keys and terrible television and arguments about whose turn it was to buy milk. He also wanted to see someone else want Marcus, and to feel, for one night, that wanting him didn’t mean having all of his attention.

Across the room, Marcus caught his eye again. This time, he crooked a finger.

Daniel joined them. Up close, Alex was handsome in an annoyingly effortless way. Marcus made the introductions, and Alex offered his hand.

“Marcus told me you know why I’m here,” Alex said.

“I do.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Daniel appreciated the question. He looked at Marcus before answering.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

Alex looked at Marcus. “So what happens now?”

Marcus glanced at Daniel.

“You bring him home,” Daniel said.

On the way back to the flat, Marcus and Alex walked ahead of him, close enough that their hands kept brushing. Daniel had pictured this walk so many times that seeing it happen felt almost unreal. At a crossing, Alex put a hand at the small of Marcus’s back, guiding him through the crowd. Daniel watched the gesture all the way home.

Inside, Daniel put his keys in the bowl by the door. Marcus took Alex’s coat and hung it beside his own. It was such a small thing, but Daniel liked seeing another man make himself comfortable in their flat.

Marcus led Alex down the hall. At the bedroom door, he looked back at Daniel.

“The wall’s thin,” Daniel said.

“I know,” Marcus replied.

The door closed. Daniel went into the spare room and stretched out on the bed, fully dressed. He had no intention of sleeping yet.

Through the wall came the low murmur of two voices, then the sound of Marcus laughing. Daniel knew that laugh. He’d wanted to hear someone else draw it out of him, wanted to know what it would feel like from this side of the wall.

For a while, there were only fragments: a few words too soft to understand, the creak of the floor, a sudden hush. Daniel listened to the spaces between them as closely as the sounds.

Then Alex said Marcus’s name.

It came through the wall clearly enough to make Daniel turn his head. Marcus answered too quietly for him to hear. The bed shifted, and Daniel felt a quick, bright surge of pleasure. He had wanted this for so long that he knew the sounds in the next room might be ordinary to anyone else. To him, each one meant Marcus was there with Alex.

Daniel moved closer to the wall. He caught Marcus laughing again, the sound cut short, then Alex’s voice, low and warm. He couldn’t tell what they were saying. He liked that. The closed door gave him something to listen for and left just enough beyond his reach.

The sounds carried on for hours. Midnight slipped into one, then two, and still the bedroom hadn’t gone quiet. Daniel heard the bed shift against the wall again and again, Marcus’s breath catch, then Alex answer with a sound so close that, for a moment, he couldn’t tell them apart. Their voices rose and fell together, dissolving into one long, muffled moan. The mattress gave a long creak, there was a shuffle of bare feet, and then Marcus let out a low, startled moan. Daniel closed his eyes, picturing Alex drawing him into a new position, and waited for the bed to move again. Heat climbed Daniel’s neck. He had dreamed of being a cuck, but he hadn’t known how much he would love listening. Each time silence settled, he waited, alert for the first sound that would tell him they weren’t finished. Dawn found him awake, still listening.

Eventually, the bedroom fell quiet. Daniel pictured Marcus and Alex asleep with their arms around each other, and hoped he had it right. The thought kept him awake a little longer, listening to the silence on the other side of the wall, before he drifted off too.

By late morning, the three of them were at the kitchen table. Alex made toast. Marcus poured the coffee, looking pleasantly tired. Daniel sat opposite them both, taking in the easy way Alex reached past Marcus for the jam. Last night’s sounds were his to remember; this morning, he got to see them together.

It was everything their gay cuckolding fantasy had promised: last night’s sounds, this morning’s ease.

Marcus caught him looking. “What?”

Daniel picked up his coffee. “You’ve got a very happy cuck sitting across from you.”

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