Morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, catching on the sheen of sweat still clinging to Jake’s shoulders as he stood at the stove shirtless, spatula in hand. The smell of protein powder pancakes hung heavy in the kitchen.
Ethan shuffled in wearing nothing but loose gym shorts, his chest bare, his hair still messy from sleep. He moved stiffly, abs tightening every time he tried not to bend his hips too much. His gait was awkward—hips rolling, thighs tense—and it made Jake snort instantly.
Jake nearly dropped the spatula when he turned and got a full look.
“Bro…” His grin spread wide, eyes shamelessly dragging over Ethan’s sore, strutting walk. “You’re moving like you maxed out on squats and forgot leg day existed.”
Ethan groaned, dropping into a chair with a heavy sigh. His shorts rode up his thighs, showing more skin than either of them acknowledged.
“Shut up. You know exactly why I’m sore.”
Jake leaned against the counter, pecs flexing as he folded his arms, smirking.
“Hey, don’t blame me. You lost the bet. Penalty’s a penalty.”
Ethan shot him a look, grabbing at his lower back as if that would help.
“Penalty? Bro, you straight-up rearranged my insides. I don’t even know if I can walk to the treadmill today, let alone run.”
Jake laughed so hard he had to set the spatula down, abs tightening, his shoulders shaking.
“Dude, you’re making it sound like I benched your ass. Relax—it’s called active recovery. Helps blood flow. You should be thanking me.”
“Active recovery my ass.” Ethan winced, then snorted at his own joke, shaking his head.
“Literally.”
Jake slid into the chair across from him, legs spread wide, grinning.
“Bro, admit it. Part of you liked it.”
Ethan grabbed a fork and pointed it like a dagger, his bicep flexing as he aimed.
“Bro, I’ll admit it felt… good. Like, really good. But right now? Sitting down is a full-contact sport.”
They both cracked up, the kind of laugh only two bros who had crossed that line could share, their shoulders bumping when Jake reached across with a plate.
Jake shoved a stack of pancakes toward him, the butter melting into the golden edges.
“Eat up, bro. Carbs help muscle recovery. And, y’know… butt recovery.”
Ethan groaned but still drowned the plate in syrup.
“Don’t start. My glutes feel like they got hit with a kettlebell.”
Jake leaned back, stretching, arms behind his head so his lats flared. His smirk deepened.
“Or like they got worked by one.”
“Bro!” Ethan nearly spit syrup across the table, chest heaving with laughter. “Too soon.”
Jake flexed a bicep, showing off like a douchey influencer.
“Think of it this way: sex is just another workout. Core engagement, glutes, hamstrings, cardio—check, check, check, check.”
Ethan squinted, syrup dripping off his fork.
“So you’re saying… getting railed counts as a superset?”
Jake leaned forward, grin cocky, pecs bouncing as he shrugged.
“Exactly. Active recovery. Keeps us loose for lifting.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth curled up, betraying him.
“Loose is not the word I’d use right now, bro.”
Jake laughed so hard his chair creaked, chest shaking.
“Okay, fair. But imagine telling the guys at the gym. ‘Oh yeah, we don’t stretch after leg day—we 69 and then finish with deep-tissue glute work.’”
Ethan buried his face in his hands, still laughing, his abs flexing under his skin.
“Dude, if you ever say that out loud at the gym, I’m changing my name and moving to another state.”
Jake slapped the table, veins popping on his forearm.
“No way, man. We’re pioneers! This is the future of fitness.”
Ethan sighed dramatically, stabbing into another pancake, his lips shiny with syrup.
“Fine. But if this is our new recovery routine, I’m at least getting hazard pay.”
Jake leaned in across the table, syrup dripping off his own fork, smirk sharp and playful.
“Hazard pay? Bro, you’re getting premium service.”
They fist-bumped across the table, pancakes momentarily forgotten as the joke landed: sex wasn’t just a penalty anymore. It was officially part of their training program.
The gym smelled like iron, chalk, and sweat. Jake racked the bar with a grunt, chest glistening, the veins along his arms standing out like cords. He flexed once—showboating—before grabbing his shaker.
“Three plates, bro,” he said, breathless but smug. “Tell me you’re impressed.”
Ethan smirked, powdering his hands, his tank top clinging to his back with sweat. He gave Jake a slow once-over, lingering a second too long on the way the barbell had made his traps swell.
“Yeah, a beast who still needed me to spot your warm-up set.”
Jake laughed, water dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He caught Ethan’s look and grinned wider.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you staring. Admit it—you’d spot me even if I didn’t ask.”
Ethan rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, stepping to the bar for his deadlift. He bent over, shorts riding up enough to show the tight curve of his ass. Jake leaned on the rack, biting back a smirk.
“Careful, bro. With the way you’re waddling today, half the gym already knows I rearranged you last night.”
Ethan yanked the bar up in a clean pull, sweat running down his jawline, then let it crash to the floor. Standing tall, he wiped his face with his shirt, flashing the ridges of his stomach.
“Yeah, well at least I have an excuse for sore glutes. What’s yours? Bad form?”
Jake’s grin spread, eyes dragging down Ethan’s torso before he looked away with mock innocence.
“Pretty sure my form was perfect. You were the one moaning about depth, bro.”
They kept the banter rolling between sets, each rep more of a flex-off than a workout. Jake exaggerated the arch of his back on squats, ass low, thighs shaking, while Ethan made a show of chalking his hands, dust spreading across his sweaty pecs. Every lift had a little extra edge, like they were daring each other to watch.
By the end, their tanks were plastered to their bodies, muscles pumped and shining. Ethan leaned against the car in the parking lot, smirk cocky but eyes still darting at Jake’s arms.
“So, active recovery when we get back?”
Jake slung his bag in, giving Ethan a playful slap on his sore ass.
“Hell yeah, bro. For the science. For the gains.”
The ride home was thick with that familiar buzz—sweat cooling on their skin, adrenaline humming, both of them pretending it was just about lifting when every look said otherwise.
Back at the apartment, Jake collapsed onto the couch, stretching out wide, his shirt pulled tight over his chest. He shot Ethan a grin.
“Alright, lab rat. Time for the new protocol. You ready to test it?”
Ethan smirked, dropping his bag and peeling off his tank top to mop his sweat. His torso glistened, abs ridged from the workout, chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Yeah. Just remember,” he said, voice half-teasing, half-serious. “You said this was for recovery. Don’t make me walk funny again tomorrow.”
Jake’s laugh came out low, almost a growl, his eyes shamelessly raking over Ethan’s sweat-slick body. His grin widened.
“No promises, bro.”
He tugged his own shirt off and tossed it aside, shoulders and chest flexing as he did. Both of them stood there shirtless, still buzzing from the gym, sweat shining in the apartment light. For a moment neither moved—just bros staring each other down, both too stubborn to admit how turned on they were.
Ethan broke first, smirking as he flexed his pecs like a douche.
“Bro, this recovery better be scientific. None of your weird experiments.”
Jake stepped closer, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
“Scientific, huh? Call me Professor, ‘cause I’m about to teach your body how to loosen up.”
Ethan chuckled, but his voice caught just slightly.
“Bro, you’re way too into this.”
Jake grinned, leaning in so close he could feel Ethan’s heat.
“Don’t act like you’re not.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked down, then back up, his smirk cracking wider.
“Okay, yeah. Maybe I am.”
Jake nudged him with his shoulder, playful, like they were about to wrestle—but neither stepped back. The air between them got thick, their breathing heavier. Ethan’s towel still hung around his neck, brushing Jake’s chest every time he shifted.
“Bro…” Ethan’s voice dropped, rougher. “You gonna start this recovery, or just keep staring at me?”
Jake smirked, lips curling slow.
“Oh, I’m starting.”
He grabbed Ethan by the back of the neck in that half-wrestling, half-bro way and shoved him back toward the couch. Ethan laughed, falling onto the cushions, his body spread wide, cocky grin plastered across his face.
Jake climbed over him, their abs brushing, their sweat mixing, the heat between them undeniable. Ethan’s hand landed on Jake’s hip, fingers sliding just a little lower than they needed to.
“Bro,” Ethan breathed, eyes bright with challenge. “Don’t hold back. Show me this active recovery.”
Jake leaned down, noses almost touching, their chests pressed together, hearts hammering.
“Oh, I’m about to, bro.”
Jake’s grin hovered a breath away from Ethan’s face before he closed the gap. It wasn’t a soft kiss—it was messy, hard, the way bros would do it if neither wanted to admit how much they needed it. Their teeth clicked once, then their mouths slid together, all heat and tongue.
Ethan groaned into him, gripping Jake’s shoulders, pulling him closer like he wanted to wrestle and make out at the same time.
“Damn, bro… you taste like protein shake and pancakes.”
Jake chuckled against his lips.
“Better than pre-workout, bro.” He kissed him harder, sucking on Ethan’s bottom lip before letting it go with a wet smack.
Their hands started roaming. Jake’s palms slid down the hard lines of Ethan’s chest, feeling every ridge of sweat-slick abs, tracing lower until his fingers dipped under the waistband of his shorts. Ethan’s breath hitched, and he grabbed Jake’s ass with both hands, squeezing through his gym shorts.
“Fuck, bro,” Ethan groaned, grinding up against him. “You’re solid everywhere.”
Jake laughed, rolling his hips down until their cocks pressed together, stiff and throbbing, trapped between their sweaty bodies. The heat of it made them both gasp.
“Guess we both are, bro.”
They started grinding, slow at first, just the drag of fabric on fabric. Jake’s cock twitched, pre already soaking through his shorts, slicking against Ethan’s. Ethan’s eyes fluttered shut, head pushing back into the couch as he moaned.
“Dude… feels so fucking good,” Ethan muttered. “Like we’re still lifting, but better.”
Jake smirked, lips brushing his ear as he pressed harder, their cocks sliding against each other through the thin fabric.
“Bro, this is way better than lifting. Gains for days.”
Ethan laughed breathlessly, then moaned again as Jake’s hand slid between them and grabbed both their cocks through the shorts, squeezing them together in his fist. The friction made them both buck their hips, desperate, sloppy.
“Fuck, bro!” Ethan gasped, clutching Jake’s back with his nails. “You’re cheating with that grip.”
Jake grinned, sweat dripping down his temple, lips hot against Ethan’s neck.
“Not cheating, bro. Just training smart.”
Ethan’s laugh broke into a groan as Jake rubbed harder, the heat of their cocks swelling together in his palm, fabric soaked and clinging. Every grind sent a shiver through him, every squeeze pulling a curse out of his mouth.
“Bro,” Ethan panted, forehead pressed to Jake’s, breath mingling hot between them. “If this is recovery, I’m never skipping it again.”
Jake smirked, eyes locked on his.
“Same, bro. This is going in the program.”
They kissed again—sloppier, hungrier this time—while Jake kept working their cocks together, the heat building, their moans filling the room.
I tugged at Ethan’s waistband, grinning as I felt him squirm under me. His cock was already straining against the mesh of his gym shorts, the wet spot spreading bigger every second.
“Bro…” I teased, tugging them down an inch at a time. “You leaking through like a busted shaker bottle.”
“Shut up,” Ethan groaned, lifting his hips just enough to let me peel them down. His cock sprang free, thick and swollen, pre glistening at the tip. My eyes lingered, hungry, before I dragged the shorts lower, exposing the perfect curve of his ass.
I gave it a slap—loud, sharp. He jumped, then laughed through a moan.
“Fuck, bro. Warn a guy.”
“Nah,” I smirked, squeezing one cheek in my hand, the heat of him pulsing under my fingers. “Gotta keep you guessing.”
I spat into my palm and slicked my fingers, then slid one between his cheeks, circling slow around his hole. Ethan’s body twitched, his laugh breaking into a sharp inhale.
“Dude…” his voice dropped, shaky. “You’re really… fuck.”
“Relax, bro,” I murmured, pressing my fingertip inside, just enough for him to clench around it. “Active recovery, remember? Gotta get deep tissue.”
He groaned, head dropping back, eyes fluttering shut.
“Deep tissue my ass. Literally.”
I grinned, working my finger deeper, feeling him open up around me. The heat was insane—tight and hot, pulling me in. Ethan’s abs flexed every time I pushed forward, his cock twitching against his stomach.
“Bro…” he gasped, voice raw. “That feels… holy shit…”
“You like that, huh?” I leaned closer, lips brushing his ear while I started to move my finger in slow, steady strokes. “One finger and you’re already losing it.”
“Not—fuck—not losing it,” he panted, gripping my shoulders so hard his nails dug into my skin. “Just… feels insane, bro.”
I smirked, twisted my finger, then added a second. Ethan’s body jerked, a sharp hiss spilling out of him.
“Bro! Oh, fuck… hurts—” His words cut off in a groan, hips pushing back against me anyway. “—but it feels so fucking good.”
I kissed along his jaw, still fingering him, feeling him stretch and tighten around me. The noises spilling from his throat—half laughter, half desperate moans—went straight to my cock, making it ache against his thigh.
“Tell me, bro,” I muttered, pumping my fingers deeper, curling them just right. “What do you want?”
His head snapped forward, sweaty forehead pressing to mine, eyes wild.
“Your cock, bro. I need your fucking cock in me.”
I grinned, my own breath ragged, pulling my fingers free and spreading the slick across my throbbing cock as I lined it up against his ass. I rubbed the head between his cheeks, teasing, watching him squirm and bite his lip.
“Beg for it, bro,” I growled. “Let me hear you say it.”
Ethan moaned, shameless now.
“Please, bro. Fuck me. I need it—give me your cock.”
I lined up, the fat head of my cock pushing against Ethan’s hole, teasing him while he writhed.
“Dude, you’re twitching like crazy,” I laughed, grinding just enough to make him groan. “You sure you can handle this?”
Ethan’s eyes locked on mine, wild and desperate.
“Bro, I can take it. Stop talking and fucking give it to me.”
I pushed in slow, inch by inch, the tight heat swallowing me. My breath stuttered, and I had to grab his hips to keep steady.
“Fuck, bro… you’re gripping me like a damn vice.”
He gasped, head dropping back.
“Holy shit—so big… Bro, you’re splitting me open.”
“Yeah?” I grinned, thrusting a little deeper, groaning as his ass clenched around me. “That’s just the warm-up set.”
Ethan barked out a laugh, broken by a moan.
“Warm-up? You’re outta your mind.”
I pulled back and slammed in harder, his body jolting up the couch. He swore, grabbing my shoulders, nails dragging down my sweaty skin.
“Fuck! Bro, you’re pounding me like a heavy bag.”
“Better than leg day, huh?” I smirked, hips slapping against him as I picked up the pace.
He tried to talk, but it came out as a wrecked moan, his cock bouncing between us, leaking all over his abs. His muscles flexed under me, every thrust making him grunt louder.
“Bro,” he groaned, forehead pressed against mine. “You’re… oh fuck—you’re hitting it.”
I angled deeper, nailing that spot again, making him choke on his own moan.
“Right there?” I growled. “Yeah, bro, I feel you clenching. You’re loving this.”
Ethan’s voice broke into a laugh, breathless.
“Shut up—you’re gonna make me—fuck—gonna make me bust.”
I kissed him hard, swallowing his moans as I pounded into him. The couch creaked, sweat dripping down both our bodies, the room thick with the sound of skin slapping and our ragged laughter.
I pulled back just enough to smirk at him, still driving deep.
“Not yet, bro. Hold it. We finish together.”
Ethan nodded, teeth gritted, his abs tight as hell as he gripped my biceps.
“Bro… hurry. I’m so close.”
I slammed into him harder, deeper, the both of us shaking with the effort, grins splitting our sweaty faces.
“Yeah, bro,” I groaned, voice low and hungry. “We’re right there.”
I could feel Ethan’s body tensing under me, every muscle flexed, his ass gripping my cock like it didn’t want to let go. My own balls drew up tight, that burn of no-return crawling up my spine.
“Bro—” Ethan gasped, voice breaking, “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna blow!”
I slammed in deep, grinding my hips against his ass.
“Do it, bro. Let’s bust together.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and then he arched off the couch, cock jerking between us. Thick ropes of cum shot across his abs, splattering his chest, dripping down his sides. Each spasm made him clench tighter around me, milking my cock.
That did it. My breath ripped out of me in a growl as I shoved in balls-deep.
“Fuck, bro—take it—”
Hot release exploded from me, pulse after pulse pouring inside him. The pressure was so intense I swore my vision blurred. My cock throbbed, buried in his tight heat, every spurt filling him until I felt it leak back out around the base.
“Shit—fuck—Ethan—” I moaned against his neck, body shaking.
He clung to me, sweaty and trembling, laughing breathlessly between groans.
“Bro—you just filled me up like a protein shake.”
I collapsed onto him, both of us slick with sweat and cum, our chests heaving. My cock twitched inside him with the last few aftershocks, and he winced, chuckling.
“Careful, man—still sensitive.”
I nuzzled his cheek, grinning even as I tried to catch my breath.
“Can’t help it, bro. You’re too good.”
Ethan groaned, shifting under me, cum smeared all over his stomach.
“Dude, I’m wrecked. My ass feels like it ran a marathon, and my dick’s outta commission.”
I pulled out slow, both of us wincing at the wet sound, then flopped beside him on the couch. We lay there in the mess, the air thick with the smell of sweat and sex.
Ethan turned his head, eyes glassy but still sharp.
“Bro… that was insane.”
I grinned, brushing my knuckles across his chest where his load was still dripping.
“Yeah, bro. You just took the hardest workout of your life. Active recovery, remember?”
He groaned and threw a couch pillow at me.
“Active recovery my ass.”
I caught it, laughing, then held out my fist.
“Admit it, though—it was worth it.”
Ethan hesitated, then smirked and bumped his knuckles to mine, both of us grinning like idiots.
“Yeah, bro,” he said softly. “Worth it.”
Ethan groaned as he shifted, rubbing at his stomach where his own cum had cooled sticky against his skin.
“Bro, I swear my core is on fire. Forget sit-ups—just rail me once a week and I’ll have abs of steel.”
I laughed, still sprawled beside him, sweaty hair plastered to my forehead.
“Dude, don’t tempt me. That’s like the easiest program ever—one set, max effort, total failure.”
Ethan shoved my shoulder weakly, chuckling.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just happy you don’t gotta do cardio. My ass feels like it sprinted a mile uphill.”
I smirked, resting my hand on his thigh, giving it a squeeze.
“C’mon, bro, admit it—you’re walking funny tomorrow and you kinda like it.”
He tried to glare at me, but his lips twitched.
“Maybe. But if I wobble into the squat rack and some dude asks if I’m okay, I’m blaming you.”
“Tell him your glutes got a deep-tissue massage,” I said, waggling my eyebrows.
Ethan laughed so hard he had to clutch his side. “Dude! No way. You’d love that, huh? Just outing me with one line.”
I shrugged, rolling onto my side to face him, still grinning.
“Hey, bro, we’re not outing anyone—we’re just… innovating. Gym science.”
He snorted, eyes half-lidded now, the crash hitting him. “Yeah, sure. Real Nobel Prize stuff, bro.”
I reached up, brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair off his forehead, and before I knew it, I leaned in and kissed him. Not rough, not even horny—just soft.
Ethan blinked at me, then kissed back, slow and lingering. When we broke apart, he smirked.
“Bro… you’re getting all tender on me.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, grinning anyway. “It’s called cooldown stretching.”
He laughed, shaking his head, then rolled against me, chest to chest. His leg hooked over mine, casual but close.
“Fine, but if you start spooning me, I’m putting it in the logbook as assisted stretching.”
I kissed his temple, still smirking.
“Write whatever you want, bro. Long as I’m your spotter.”
He groaned but nestled in anyway, voice muffled against my neck.
“Best. Spotter. Ever.”
I wrapped an arm around him, both of us sticky, sore, and reeking of sweat—but neither of us moving to clean up yet. Just two bros tangled up, laughing under their breath, letting the afterglow linger.
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