The morning sun was already bleeding through the blinds when I rolled out of bed, still a little sore from yesterday’s workout. Ethan was in the kitchen, shirtless of course, flipping eggs in a pan like he was hosting a cooking show. His back flexed with every move, broad shoulders rolling, veins running down his arms.
“Morning, princess,” he grinned when I walked in, hair still messy. “You gonna beg me for coffee, or should I just pour it?”
I flipped him off, but couldn’t hide the smirk creeping onto my face. “Funny, bro. Real funny.”
“Hey, I just figured it’s what you do best,” he shot back, handing me a mug with that cocky grin. “Begging. I’m thinking of charging you rent in whimpers and moans.”
I groaned, shaking my head, but my cheeks burned hot. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”
Ethan leaned against the counter, chest glistening faintly with sweat from his morning jog, and shrugged. “Nope. Not when I got you to say ‘please’ like I was holding the keys to your car. Bro, you sounded like a damn puppy.”
I rolled my eyes, sipping the coffee. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Sure it wasn’t,” he smirked, jabbing my shoulder with his fist. “Just saying, if you ever need something—laundry, groceries, spot at the gym—you just gotta beg a little. I’ll hook you up.”
I laughed despite myself. It had already turned into an inside joke—me begging. The fact that it started in the middle of us slicked up, grinding, fighting not to cum… yeah, I couldn’t exactly tell anyone else that. But between us? It was almost like a code word now.
Later, when we hit the gym, he kept at it. I was struggling with my last bench press rep, bar shaking above me, when Ethan leaned over, grin wide.
“C’mon, bro. Just say it. Just beg. I’ll spot you.”
“Fuck you,” I groaned, pushing the bar with all I had. He helped anyway, laughing the whole time.
By the time we were back at the apartment, sweaty and still ribbing each other, it felt like the begging thing was just part of our language now. Ethan flexed in the mirror as he peeled off his damp tank top.
“Man,” he said casually, “I’m telling you, I should start making you beg just to look at this.”
I tossed a towel at him. “Keep talking and you’ll be the one begging, bro.”
He grinned at me through the mirror, and we both cracked up, the joke rolling into another fist bump.
The rest of the day rolled by in the usual roommate blur—errands, laundry, trash duty, gaming breaks. Ethan insisted on dragging me through a grocery run, which of course meant him flexing his biceps when carrying the milk like it was a fifty-pound dumbbell.
“Bro,” he said, straining on purpose. “This carton’s brutal. Bet you can’t even curl it.”
“Yeah, you’re hilarious,” I muttered, tossing bread into the cart.
Back at the apartment, we cleaned up, threw on some basketball shorts, and parked ourselves on the couch with a pizza. Between slices, we started talking about last time’s “training.”
Ethan grinned with his mouth full. “So, Mr. Begs-a-lot, you think you’re ready for another round?”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing another slice. “Don’t act like you weren’t right there with me, bro. Your balls were screaming just as loud.”
He pointed a greasy finger at me. “Yeah, but you broke first. Which means… penalty.”
I snorted. “Penalty? What, you gonna make me buy your next protein tub?”
“Boring,” he said instantly. “Has to be something motivating. Something you really don’t want to do.”
We tossed ideas back and forth while wiping sauce off our hands:
Loser has to clean the bathroom for a week.
Loser has to do a shot of hot sauce.
Loser has to wear socks with sandals in public.
Loser has to bark like a dog every time the winner says “sit.”
We laughed so hard the pizza nearly slid off the box.
Then Ethan leaned back, smirk curling at his lips, eyes glinting. “Or… hear me out. Loser… gives the winner head.”
I choked on my soda, coughing hard. “What the fuck, bro?”
He burst out laughing, slapping my back. “Relax! I’m kidding. Just saying—it’d be the ultimate penalty. Nothing more humbling than that.”
I shook my head, wiping my mouth, but couldn’t help laughing too. “Dude, that’s insane.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, still grinning. “But admit it—it’s the kind of penalty you really don’t want. Which means… perfect motivation to win.”
I pointed at him, smirking despite myself. “You’re outta your mind, man. But… I get the logic.”
He grinned wide, grabbing the last slice. “Exactly. It’s just a bet, bro. Loser pays up, winner takes the prize. Nothing more.”
We clinked soda cans, both laughing at how ridiculous it sounded—but neither of us actually said no.
Back in our room, we dropped onto opposite beds, still laughing about the “penalty.” Ethan kicked off his sneakers and leaned back, hands behind his head, that smug grin plastered across his face.
“So,” he said, chest rising with an easy breath, “we doing this or what? Loser drops to his knees?”
I threw a pillow at him. “Fuck you, bro.”
He caught it, laughing. “Not yet. But you will if you lose.”
The way he said it made my stomach twist with this weird mix of nerves and heat. My cock was already stirring in my shorts. Damn it.
I smirked, trying to play it off. “Yeah, keep dreaming. You’ll be choking on mine before I’m anywhere near yours.”
Ethan sat up, peeling his shirt off and flexing his chest like he was on stage. “You talk a big game for the guy who was whining like a bitch last time.”
“Bro, you begged first,” I shot back, slipping my own shirt over my head. “I just admitted it louder.”
“Bullshit,” he grinned, reaching for the lube on his nightstand like it was part of our gym routine. He tossed it to me. “Rules are simple. No touching yourself. First to beg loses. Loser… pays up.”
My hand tightened around the bottle. My heart was pounding, cock swelling against the mesh of my shorts. I met his eyes across the room. “Deal.”
We stripped down fast—shorts off, underwear peeled—and suddenly we were two jock bros, hard cocks jutting proud in the dim light. Ethan’s was thick, veiny, already twitching with anticipation. Mine bobbed heavy, aching just from the setup.
“Damn, bro,” Ethan muttered, stroking me a couple times after slicking up his hand. “Almost feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.”
I grinned, even as my body jolted at his touch. “You’re the one about to beg, bro. Better practice your gag reflex.”
That got him laughing as he wrapped his hand around me proper, sliding wet lube up and down my shaft. I gasped and grabbed him too, both of us stroking in rhythm, lubed fists gliding over hard cock.
We locked eyes. Trash talk flew back and forth between gritted teeth.
“Not so tough now, huh?” he hissed, twisting his wrist.
“You’re already leaking, bro. You’re done,” I growled, stroking him faster.
“Yeah? We’ll see who’s swallowing.”
The heat built fast. Every stroke shot fire through me, my hips jerking against his fist. Our breaths turned ragged, chests heaving, muscles tensed like we were maxing out at the gym.
But we both knew the game—don’t break.
After what felt like forever, my whole body trembled on the edge, cock pulsing hard in his grip. His face was twisted the same way, lips parted, sweat on his brow. Neither of us wanted to give in.
Finally, Ethan gasped out, “Cool down, bro—fuck—pause, pause.”
I yanked my hand back, panting, my cock aching so bad it almost hurt. I grabbed my knees, trying not to explode just from the absence of touch. Ethan did the same, both of us red-faced, chests rising like we’d just run sprints.
“Fuck, bro,” I groaned, my cock still rock-solid and angry. “I got fucking blue balls already.”
Ethan laughed, shaking his head, his shaft dripping lube and pre-cum. “Yeah? Get used to it. We’re just getting started.”
We fist bumped, both grimacing at the throbbing ache between our legs, neither of us ready to give in yet.
We recovered just enough to start again, both of us dripping with lube, cocks twitching, hearts hammering. I couldn’t believe how hard I already was, even just from the anticipation.
“Alright, round two,” I muttered, grinning. “Don’t cry when you lose, bro.”
Ethan smirked, wrapping his slick hand around me, jerking slow, teasing. “You’re the one who begged last time, man. Don’t act like you got the advantage here.”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t lose, did I?” I shot back, stroking him hard, fingers gliding over every vein. “I’m in control now.”
He groaned, hips twitching. “Control my ass… your hands are insane, bro.”
We settled into a rhythm, cock-to-cock, lubed shafts pressed together, grinding side by side. The friction made us both moan, and every brush of skin and slick slide sent heat shooting straight to our balls.
Trash talk flew nonstop.
“Damn, bro… you’re leaking like a busted faucet!”
“Keep talking, asshole. I’m just getting started.”
“You wish, man—look at your cock, throbbing like crazy. You’re mine to break.”
Neither of us dared touch ourselves beyond the slick cock-to-cock, rubbing and twisting each other. It was agony and ecstasy combined—neither wanted to give in, both aching, balls tight, cocks throbbing with every grind.
My hand slid over his shaft again, sliding up and down with just enough pressure to drive him insane. His groans got louder, breaths ragged. I could feel him twitching against me, veins pulsing under my fingers.
“You’re… killing me, bro,” he muttered, voice trembling. “Fuck… can’t… I’m gonna…”
I grinned, pumping him harder, cocks slick and slicker, rubbing every sensitive ridge. “Say it, man. Beg if you have to.”
“Jake… please… I can’t hold it—fuck, I need to cum!”
That got me—the way he pleaded, face twisted in pure desperation. My cock throbbed hard, balls tight as I kept stroking him, grinding against him side by side. He was so close, and the way he begged made every nerve in my body light up.
We froze there for a second, both red-faced, sweat dripping down our chests, cocks slick and pulsing, knowing the next move could end everything.
I sagged back, chest heaving, hand slick around him, watching Ethan finally give in. The way his body tensed, shivered, and then shook loose as he came was insane. Every moan, every pulse, made my own cock throb harder, slick and heavy in my hand.
When he finally settled, panting, I smirked down at him. “Alright, bro… that’s how it’s done. Now… time to pay up.”
Ethan groaned, looking away for a second, then back at me with a wicked grin. “Yeah… yeah, I know. Guess I’m a man of my word.”
Before I could say anything, he leaned closer, eyes gleaming with mischief and heat. The tension hit me all over again—knowing what he was about to do, the anticipation, the way he was all in for me—made every nerve in my body fire.
“Man, you really gonna do this?” I laughed, chest pressed against his, fingers gripping his shoulders lightly. “Don’t chicken out now.”
“Hell no,” he said, voice low, teasing. “You won that contest fair and square, bro. Time to pay up.”
And then… he started. I could feel it in every shiver that ran through me, every groan that escaped my throat. He was focused on me, hands moving over my shoulders, chest pressing close, making me quake. The heat, the anticipation, the way he was all over me—it was insane.
“Fuck, dude… damn,” I groaned, gripping the couch cushion, every muscle tight. “Shit… feels too good, man. You’re… you’re killing me.”
Ethan laughed breathlessly, a mix of pride and mischief in his tone. “You think you’re bad? Bro, you’re writhing like a maniac. God, you feel insane.”
I couldn’t even talk straight, moans slipping past, every inch of me hyper-aware of him. The way he leaned in, the way his hands framed me, the way he teased and held, had my chest tightening, every nerve screaming. I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried to act like a bro, but holy shit… I was gone.
“Bro… shit… oh man,” I gasped, rolling my hips involuntarily, trying to brace myself against the intensity. “You… fuck… you’ve got me wrecked, dude.”
He smirked, breath hot, hand on my shoulder. “Yeah? Thought you’d like that. Gotta admit… seeing you lose control like this? Fucking hilarious, man.”
I groaned, gripping his arm, shivering with the overstimulation. Every second stretched, the anticipation driving me wild, every sound he made, every twitch of his expression—it was all me, all heat, all pressure.
“Dude… can’t… god, feels too fucking good…” I panted, leaning back, chest slick with sweat. “You’re… man, you’re unreal, bro. Holy shit.”
He chuckled, voice low, teasing, proud. “Knew you’d feel that way. Thought it’d be worth it. Bro, you’re so worked up right now. Can’t believe you let me get you this tight.”
I leaned back, eyes half-closed, groaning like a maniac. “Yeah… yeah, bro… you… you’re insane. Fucking insane.”
The heat between us pulsed, and the anticipation made every nerve alive. My cock throbbed, slick in my hand, every pulse sending shivers down my spine. I was lost in the sensation, in the teasing, in the sheer intensity of him being all over me.
When he finally slowed, pulling back slightly, I was panting, trembling, chest heaving. He smirked, shoulders still brushing mine, face flushed and proud.
“Damn, bro… that was… holy shit,” I gasped, voice rough. “Felt… unreal. Like… I don’t even…”
Ethan laughed, nudging me with his shoulder. “Told ya, bro. You gotta admit—you loved it. And hey, lesson learned… lose the contest, pay the price.”
I grinned, fist-bumping him. “Yeah, yeah… alright, man. Fair. Fair. But next time? I’m coming for that win again.”
He laughed, chest still heaving, a playful glint in his eyes. “Bet. Can’t wait, bro. Can’t wait.”
We collapsed back on the couch, bodies sticky, sweat glistening, and a new layer of heat humming between us. That lingering afterglow—the anticipation, the control, the teasing—it was addictive. I knew this game wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
We slump back against the couch, chest heaving, still slick from sweat, both of us catching our breath. I can’t stop grinning, fist bumping him lightly. “Damn, bro… that… that was insane.”
Ethan laughs, shaking his head, still flushed. “Yeah, man. Fuck. I can’t believe… I actually did it. Gave a dude head. Feels… weird, but like… not weird, you know?”
I nod, chest still buzzing. “Totally. I mean… it’s not like I’m gay or anything,” I say with a grin, nudging him shoulder-to-shoulder. “But damn, having you all over me like that? Bro, you’ve got skills. Killed me.”
He laughs loud, slapping my thigh. “Skills, huh? Yeah, bro. I don’t even know how I pulled that off. Felt… fucking crazy. Like, intense as shit, but also… fun? Totally wild.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fun is right. And you know what? Feeling you that close, controlling it… fuck, that heat when you’re in charge? Makes it even better. Every move, every little squeeze… had me losing my mind.”
Ethan leans back, smirking like he’s proud of himself. “Bro, I was just rolling with it. But yeah… watching your reactions? Seeing you squirm and groan… man, I was hooked. Felt crazy good, even if I didn’t touch myself. The power thing, you know?”
I groan, fists still pressing lightly against the couch. “Oh man… power thing is real. Makes the anticipation brutal. Knowing you’re in control, teasing me, and I can’t even fight it… fuck. Addictive as hell.”
He nudges me again, laughing. “And you? Watching me get you off… bro, seeing your face, hearing your moans… damn. That’s some next-level shit. Makes me feel like a total beast.”
I grin, shaking my head. “Next-level is right. I gotta admit… the part where you had me just writhing, moaning, begging a little… fuck, bro, that was nuts. Don’t even care that I said I’m straight—shit, it felt amazing.”
Ethan chuckles, voice low, playful. “Yeah? Guess it doesn’t matter what we call it. Bro-to-bro, win or lose, it’s about… having fun. Seeing each other wrecked. And yeah, kinda hot as hell.”
I lean back, letting my hand rest lazily on his shoulder. “Totally. Honestly… that anticipation, the control… everything leading up to it? Way hotter than the actual release. Feeling you… knowing you’re running the show… that shit’s addictive.”
He laughs, chest still rising and falling. “Agreed, bro. No lie. Feels unreal. And yeah, we gotta figure out ways to make it even hotter next time. Lube, edging, teasing… shit, maybe even a little longer, just to see who cracks first.”
I grin, eyes glinting. “Oh, hell yeah. Next round, we push it. Make each other beg. See who melts first.”
Ethan smirks, fist-bumping me again. “Bet, bro. This game’s just getting started. And I’m not holding back next time.”
I nod, still buzzing, still feeling the aftershocks of the tension, heat, and sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Good. ‘Cause neither am I. Let’s see who really owns it next round.”
We sit there a moment, chest-to-chest, laughing and teasing, feeling the warmth, the high, the absurdity of it all. Bro-to-bro, completely soaked in heat and mischief, the game—and the fun—just getting started.
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