It was late evening, the building mostly empty. I pressed the button for the twenty-first floor and slipped into the elevator, earbuds in, music low. I barely noticed him at first until the doors closed and I looked up.
He was leaning casually against the far wall of the elevator, a water bottle in one hand, sweat dripping down his arms. Broad shoulders, chest straining against a tight gray tank top, biceps thick enough to make me pause mid-breath. His hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead, and there was this calm, confident smirk playing on his lips as he caught me staring.
I couldn’t stop looking. There was something about the way he moved even in that small space, every curve of muscle highlighted, every vein a promise of strength. He noticed my gaze, and I swear his smirk deepened.
Then, without warning, the elevator shuddered and the lights flickered. The subtle hum of the cables stopped.
“Uh oh,” he muttered.
The doors clicked and stayed shut. A small voice from the intercom told us the elevator was stuck. He laughed, a low, deep sound that vibrated through the small space, and leaned closer.
“Guess we’re stuck,” he said, voice warm and confident. He tilted his water bottle, taking a slow sip, and my eyes traced the path of his forearms, the muscles shifting as he held it. My mouth went dry.
I tried to focus on the music in my ears, but it was useless. His presence filled the tiny box, the scent of sweat and cologne hitting me. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, can’t even pretend otherwise.
“Don’t look so nervous,” he said, leaning a fraction closer. His arm brushed mine…just lightly, just enough to make my skin tingle. I swallowed hard, trying to play it cool.
“Not nervous,” I muttered, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out shaky.
“Uh huh,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. He stepped closer, one hand brushing lightly over my shoulder. “Hey… relax,” he murmured, his fingers pressing gently into the tense muscle. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
I tried to focus on his words, but my gaze betrayed me. I couldn’t stop staring at his arms…biceps corded and thick, flexing slightly as he moved. Sweat traced the lines of his skin, glistening in the soft light, making every ridge and vein stand out. One arm was bent at the elbow, the open hole of his tank top revealing just enough of his armpit and side, the damp skin darkened by perspiration. My chest tightened.
He noticed, I swear he did, because his smirk softened. “Relax,” he repeated, letting his hand drift from my shoulder to the back of my neck. The warmth of his skin pressed into mine, grounding me, making me shiver in more than one way. I could smell the faint tang of his sweat mixed with the subtle cologne he wore…clean and sharp.
Slowly, he leaned in, his chest brushing against mine, the press of his hard, muscled body radiating heat. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, his lips hovering just above mine. My eyes flicked from his lips to his jaw, the way his mouth curved, the smooth skin of his neck, the fine hairs catching the light.
Then, as if he could feel my hesitation, he tilted his head slightly, eyes meeting mine, giving me that patient, confident look. I swallowed. The scent, the warmth, the soft friction of his body so close…it was magnetic. I couldn’t resist.
He smiled softly, and finally, just slowly, naturally, he leaned in all the way. Our lips met..soft at first, exploring, testing. Warm, firm, and with just the faint taste of him…sweat, water, that subtle musk that had my knees weak. My hands rose instinctively, sliding over the ridges of his chest under the tank top, feeling the solid weight of him, the subtle twitch of muscle under my fingers. His arms wrapped lightly around me, steadying me, encouraging me, and the kiss deepened almost effortlessly, like we had both been waiting for this moment.
He pressed harder, sliding his tongue against mine, exploring, teasing. My fingers trailed down his sides, over the waistband of his gym shorts, feeling the outline of the bulge pressing against the fabric. My breath hitched.
“You like what you feel?” he murmured against my lips, his hand ghosting over my back.
I nodded, voice caught in my throat. “Yeah I do,” I whispered.
He chuckled, low and rough, and shifted closer, pressing me against the wall. His hands were everywhere, firm and hungry. One slid into my hair, tugging gently, while the other grazed lower, fingertips teasing the front of my shorts. My cock was hard instantly, straining against my own waistband.
“You want this?” he asked, his voice a mixture of amusement and hunger.
“Fuck yeah,” I breathed.
With a slow, teasing motion, he slipped his hand inside my shorts, brushing over my hard cock, thumbs gliding over sensitive skin. I groaned into his mouth, arching into him. He laughed against my lips, deep and satisfying, and I could feel his cock pressing against my stomach through the thin fabric of his shorts. Thick, long, veiny, and uncut, just hard enough to feel his arousal.
The tension between us was electric. Every brush of skin, every press of a hand, made it impossible to think. I leaned into him, needing more, daring to reach lower. My hands went under the waistband of his shorts, feeling the hot, rigid cock pressed there, smooth under the foreskin, heavy, begging for attention. I couldn’t help myself…I wrapped my fingers around him, pulling him closer as our mouths never broke apart.
He groaned, fingers tightening in my hair, guiding me down. “Get on your knees,” he ordered softly, tone leaving no room for refusal.
I sank, heart racing, lips tracing the outline of his shaft through the thin fabric first, just teasing him. He let out a low growl and adjusted, lifting one foot slightly to give me better access. I didn’t need to be told twice. Slowly, deliberately, I slid my hands under the waistband, letting his cock spring free. Thick, veiny, wet with arousal, glistening just enough in the dim elevator light.
I ran my tongue along the underside, tasting the salt of him, feeling the weight in my mouth. He groaned, gripping the back of my head, thrusting slightly, testing me, teasing me. I bobbed my head carefully, taking in as much as I could, lips stretching around the thick crown. The taste, the warmth, the sheer presence of him made my body burn.
His hands were everywhere now, resting on my shoulders, guiding me, pressing me deeper. I took him in slowly, inch by inch, adjusting my jaw, loving the stretch. Every movement made him shiver, every groan fuel for me to keep going harder, deeper. My hands stroked the base, feeling him pulse under my grip.
“You like that?” he asked, voice low, vibrating in my chest.
“Yes… so much,” I whispered, eyes closed, throat working around him.
He pushed closer, letting me take more, guiding me with his hands while murmuring encouragements. I could feel every vein, every twitch, every shiver of pleasure shooting through him, and it only made me harder. My own cock throbbed, straining against my shorts, needing attention.
“Turn around,” he commanded next, and I did, pressing myself against the wall. He positioned me perfectly, hips aligning, hands on my shoulders, his cock now brushing against my ass. I felt his hardness press into me, teasing, rubbing, sliding slightly over my crack. The friction made my knees weak, my mind spin.
I bent slightly, gripping the railing for balance, and he pushed back, rubbing harder, tracing the line of my ass with his cock. I moaned, hands clutching the wall, heart hammering. He leaned down, lips finding my neck, teeth nipping gently, suck'ing, marking, as his cock rubbed me right where I wanted it.
“God… you’re so wet,” he groaned, pushing even harder against my ass. My own moans joined his low growls, echoing off the elevator walls. He grabbed my hips, adjusting the angle, and I could feel him start to slide inside. Thick, heavy, hot, pressing against my entrance, teasing, before slowly letting the head slip in. I shivered, gasping, feeling the weight and thickness stretch me, filling me completely.
I gripped the railing, bracing myself, as he began to push in slowly, just enough to make every nerve ignite. The rhythm started gentle, teasing, then faster, harder, slick sounds filling the small space as he fucked me against the wall. I could feel the sweat dripping, mixing with the heat, our bodies slick, perfectly pressed.
He leaned over, hands now on my shoulders, gripping tight, holding me against him as he fucked harder. I felt his cock pulse inside me, thick and veiny, each thrust deep, controlled, making me whimper, cry out. I bent over slightly, ass pressing back, letting him take full advantage of the tight heat.
I turned my head, lips brushing his ear. “I’m gonna cum,” I gasped, chest pressed against the wall.
He smirked, groaning. “Do it. Right here.” He drove harder, faster, and I couldn’t hold back. My body shook, legs trembling, cum spilling, hot and sticky, dripping down my thighs as he grunted, still pushing deep. The friction, the heat, the close confinement…it was more intense than anything I’d imagined.
Not letting me recover, he adjusted, pressing me even further against the wall, cock slipping in deeper, hands on my ass, pinning me in place. I felt his own release coming, thick, hot spurts filling me, body shuddering, every muscle taut, groaning as he came with me.
We leaned against each other, sweat mixing, hearts pounding, breaths ragged. I turned to look at him in the mirror on the elevator wall, chest heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, cock still slick and glistening. I felt my legs wobble but managed a shaky smile.
He laughed, low, deep. “You okay?”
I nodded, still trembling, fingertips tracing over his chest, muscles twitching, sweat-slicked and perfect. “Yeah… that was…” I trailed off, words failing.
“Best stuck in an elevator ever?” he finished my thought. I could only nod, breathless, sticky, completely spent.
The elevator jolted back to life, lights flickering brighter. We straightened, adjusting ourselves, zipping up, panting and flushed. The doors opened and we stepped out, bodies still humming, hands brushing once, smirks that promised this wasn’t the last.
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