About a bastardized old man (and a cheeky brat)

Divine Dragon flips him over, stepping out of him, daring him to pull his cock out of him when he was so close. "Damn old man, you're a no-fuck", Saint Sword says angrily, only to have the bastard, future him, crash into him again, hitting that fucking pleasure point inside him perfectly, making him melt on the wooden floor, propped up on his elbows and knees like he's the lowest courtesan in a brothel. "You're not!—" The bastard grabs him by the pelvis, pulling him away from him and bringing him close again, right down to his balls with a horribly lewd sound, fast, impetuous, as perfect as no one ever could, and it makes him jam his forehead into the boards, biting his palm to keep from making too many compromising noises as his shoulders shake and his knees bruise. Shit, shit, shit, future him, the bastardized old man knows his body all too well; for all that he's not him anymore, for all that he's conventionally younger than he is; and it might have been humiliating to be taken by someone so young, if it had been true. "Don't pretend you don't like it", the bastard says, huskily and smugly, so unfairly charming he wants to punch him in that overly delicately handsome face. Who gave him the right to sound and look so titillating? "And if it does, I can stop", and he dares him to just stop moving, frozen in middle of it. "Don't you dare!" bursts out of him too desperately and too spontaneously for him to stop himself; the old man can't leave him like this; he couldn't become such a ruthless monster in the future. The Divine Dragon enters him again, never missing that all too pleasurable point inside him, making him arch his back to take more; he feels another man's chest press against his back, another man's hands pull away from his hips, wrapping around his torso, hot breath tickling his skin, lips softly touching his shoulder, and: "I just wanted to hear you, brat", it goes through him in a discharge stronger than he expected as his body fails and his eyes go dark before him; he feels himself tighten around the other and something warm spills inside him as the stranger's hands press down on him with a force that could break his ribs and his shoulder is bitten so hard it leaves a mark. He presses his cheek against the cool floor, keeping himself from falling only because of the steady hands holding him up. Yes, something remains the same; he still prefers older men.