Bob’s eyelids twitched. He lay sprawled on his mattress, sheets tangled around his ankles. A thin sheen of sweat coated his broad shoulders. His breathing hitched, chest rising and falling beneath coarse dark hair. In the dream, Curt’s callused hands were gripping his hips. The fantasy dissolved as pressure built low in Bob’s gut. He needed to piss. Now.
He swung his legs off the bed, feet hitting cool hardwood. Early dawn seeped through cracked blinds, striping his naked body. Bob padded down the hallway, muscles flexing with each step. The bathroom tiles chilled his soles. He flicked on the light, squinting at the sudden glare. Streams of urine splashed into the bowl, steaming faintly in the quiet room. Relief washed over him.
On the return trip, Bob paused outside Curt’s open door. Curt lay face-up on his bed, blankets kicked aside. The soft glow of a nightlight illuminated the dense blond hair dusting his chest. Bob’s gaze drifted downward. Curt’s cock stood thick and hard against his stomach, tip glistening faintly. Bob’s own breath caught. He forced himself to move, retreating to his room without a sound.
Back in bed, Bob stared at the ceiling. Heat pooled in his groin again. His hand slid down his stomach, fingers wrapping around his stiffening length. He stroked slowly at first, calluses catching on sensitive skin. Memories of Curt’s sleeping form flashed behind his closed eyes. Faster now, hips lifting off the mattress. A low grunt escaped his lips as hot sperm jetted across his abs and chest. He wiped sticky streaks away with a corner of the sheet, exhaling heavily. Sleep tugged at him once more.
Darkness still clung to the room when Bob stirred. Weight dipped the mattress beside him. Warmth radiated against his back. A familiar scent — sweat and cheap aftershave — filled his nostrils. Curt’s rough palm slid over Bob’s hip. "Saw you lookin'," Curt murmured, breath hot against Bob’s neck. Bob rolled onto his back, meeting Curt’s intense stare. Need burned in those blue eyes, erasing hesitation.
Curt’s thick fingers traced Bob’s jawline. "Been dreamin’ about this," he confessed, voice gravelly with want.
Their mouths crashed together, urgent and messy. Teeth clicked clumsily before settling into a hungry rhythm. Curt’s tongue explored Bob’s mouth, tasting faintly of sleep and mint. Hands roamed — Curt gripping Bob’s hairy pecs, Bob clutching Curt’s broad shoulders. Skin slid against sweat-slicked skin. Curt broke the kiss, trailing rough lips down Bob’s throat, across a thick nipple. Bob arched, fingers tangling in Curt’s blond chest hair. A sharp gasp ripped from him as Curt’s stubbled cheek scraped lower, past his navel. The wet heat of Curt’s mouth engulfed him wholly. Bob cried out, head thrashing against the pillow.
Curt pulled back, grinning up at him. "My turn." He rolled onto his stomach, presenting thick, muscled thighs and the cleft between them. Bob’s pulse hammered in his ears. He leaned down, inhaling Curt’s musk deeply. The first tentative lick drew a ragged moan from Curt. Bob pressed his face deeper, tongue delving past tight muscle. Curt bucked, pushing back against him.
"Fuck, yes —" Curt choked out. Bob gripped those powerful hips, holding him steady as he worked. The room filled with wet sounds and gasps. When Bob finally lifted his head, slick coated his chin. Curt flipped over, erection bobbing fiercely. "Now," Curt demanded, voice raw. "I want you inside me, now. Hard."
Bob scrambled for the bedside drawer, fingers fumbling past loose change to grab some lube. Curt snatched it away, opening the tube with his teeth. He squeezed slick up and down Bob's thick shaft, then squeezed some onto his own palm. Bob watched, transfixed, as Curt reached behind himself, fingers working quickly, breath hitching.
"I'm ready," Curt panted. "Don't make me wait."
Bob positioned himself, blunt head pressing where Curt had prepared. Curt wrapped his legs around Bob's waist, heels digging into his lower back. "Deep and hard," Curt urged. Bob pushed slowly, watching Curt's face contort — a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, Curt's tight heat enveloping him. A shudder ripped through Bob. Curt arched, gripping Bob's biceps. "All of you," he gasped. "Give it to me."
Bob began thrusting — shallow at first, then deeper, harder. The slap of skin echoed off the walls. Sweat dripped from Bob's forehead onto Curt's chest hair. Curt met every drive, meeting Bob's rhythm. "More," Curt gasped, his hand flying to his own cock. Bob leaned down, capturing Curt's mouth again as he pistoned faster. Their tongues dueled, fierce and claiming.
Curt's moans grew louder, ragged. "Gonna come," he warned, fingers digging into Bob's shoulders. Bob felt his own climax building, a coil tightening in his gut. He drove deeper, grinding against Curt's prostate with each thrust. Curt cried out, back bowing off the bed as thick streams erupted onto his stomach and chest. The pulsing tightness pushed Bob over the edge. He buried himself fully, hips jerking as he emptied his sperm into Bob's bowels, a guttural roar tearing from his throat.
They collapsed, spent and trembling. Curt's legs slid off Bob's hips. Bob pulled out gently. Before he could move away, Curt hauled him close, sticky chests pressing together. Curt kissed him slowly, deeply — not with urgency, but tenderness. Bob sighed into it, arms wrapping around Curt's back. They stayed tangled like that, breathing hard, skin cooling where sweat pooled between them.
Outside, dawn lightened the sky. Curt nuzzled Bob's neck. "Don't let me go," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. Bob nodded, pulling the sheet over them both. Curt's hand settled on Bob's chest, right above his racing heart.
Silence stretched, filled only by their slowing breaths. Bob traced the veins on Curt's forearm, memorizing their paths. Curt shifted closer, burying his face in Bob's armpit, inhaling deeply. The intimacy felt sharper than the sex — raw and terrifying. Bob pressed his lips to Curt's sweaty forehead.
Hours later, Bob woke to an empty bed. Panic flared until he smelled coffee. He padded into the kitchen, naked. Curt stood by the stove, scrambling eggs. He turned, spatula in hand. "Morning," Curt said, grinning. His eyes roamed Bob's Herculean body, still with dried cum streaks from earlier. "Hungry?"
They ate shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter. Curt's thigh pressed against Bob's. Every accidental brush sent sparks up Bob's spine. Curt fed him a forkful of egg, fingers lingering near Bob's lips. "Last night ..." Curt started, then paused. "That wasn't just fucking, was it?"
Bob shook his head, throat tight. He reached out, wiping a crumb from Curt's stubbled chin. Curt caught his wrist, kissing his palm. "Good," Curt whispered. They cleared the dishes without speaking, moving in sync.
In the shower, Bob soaped Curt's back, hands sliding lower. Curt leaned into the touch, head bowed. Bob washed his ass cheeks gently, fingers grazing his hole. Curt flinched slightly
"Still sore?" Bob asked softly. Curt nodded, heat flooding his face. Bob turned him around, kissing him under the spray. Water sluiced between their bodies as Bob's soapy hand found Curt's cock, half-hard already. "Just cleaning," Bob murmured, but his thumb circled the piss slit, coaxing another drop of pre-cum. Curt groaned, gripping Bob's hips. Steam rose around them, thick with promise.
Bob broke away, his eyes dark. "Time for you to be inside me now," he rasped. "I want to see how it feels." He turned to face the shower wall, planting his palms against cool tile. Muscles flexed in his back and ass as he spread his legs wider. Curt stared at the thick cheeks parted for him, water streaming down Bob's spine into the cleft. His own cock surged, rigid and dripping against his thigh.
Curt stepped close, soap slicking his fingers as he coated his shaft. He gripped Bob's hips, blunt crown nudging against tight muscle. Bob pushed back with a low grunt, forcing himself open. Curt pressed. A gasp tore from Bob's throat as the thick head popped past the resisting ring, hot inner walls clamping down instantly. Curt groaned, sinking deeper inch by agonizing inch. Flesh met flesh with a wet slap. "Fuck, you're tight," Curt choked out, hips flush against Bob's ass.
He withdrew slowly, then drove back in hard. Bob cried out, forehead pressed against the tiled wall as Curt set a brutal rhythm. Each thrust punched a ragged moan from Bob’s chest — deep, guttural sounds drowned by the shower’s hiss. Curt’s balls slapped wetly against Bob’s perineum.
"Harder," Bob demanded, arching his back. Curt obeyed, pistoning faster, fingers digging powerfully into Bob's hips. Bob’s cock swung heavy and untouched, leaking onto the tile. The slap-slap-slap of skin echoed off the walls, mingling with their ragged breaths and the drumming water. Curt felt Bob’s hole flutter around him, clenching rhythmically as he neared climax.
Curt leaned forward. "Gonna fill you up," he growled in Bob's ear. Bob shuddered, a broken cry escaping as Curt slammed home one last time. Curt’s roar echoed Bob’s as he emptied his load deep inside, hips jerking wildly. They stayed locked together, trembling, water cooling their overheated skin.
Curt kissed the nape of Bob’s neck. "How’d it feel?" he murmured.
Bob turned his head, catching Curt’s mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss. "Like mine," he breathed against Curt’s lips. "I came when you did."
Outside, the city woke, unaware of the quiet storm behind their steamed-up window.
Bob twisted, still pinned against the tile, Curt’s softening cock slipping out with a slick pop. Cum trickled down Bob’s thigh, washing away by the shower spray. Curt’s hands slid around Bob’s waist, pulling him flush against his own sticky chest. They stood like that for minutes, breathing in humid air thick with sex and cheap body wash, foreheads pressed together as the shower drummed on their shoulders. Curt traced Bob’s collarbone with his thumb, a silent question in the touch. Bob answered by tilting Curt’s chin up and kissing him — slow, deep, tasting rainwater and exhaustion.
Later, still nude, Curt slid a mug of bitter coffee toward Bob. Their knees bumped under the laminate, a spark jumping between them even now. Curt’s gaze lingered on Bob’s throat, where the beginnings of a hickey bloomed from last night’s hungry mouth. "Still sore back there?" Curt asked softly, nodding toward the bathroom.
Bob shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "You?"
Curt just grinned, flexing his bicep where Bob’s fingernails had left crescent moons. The unspoken hung between them — “This changes everything”.
In the living room, sunlight striped the dusty floorboards. Curt tugged Bob onto the worn couch, pulling him sideways until Bob’s head rested in his lap. Calloused fingers combed through Bob’s damp, coarse hair. Neither spoke. Bob closed his eyes, listening to Curt’s heartbeat thud against his ear, slower now, steady. The silence wasn’t empty; it thrummed with everything they hadn’t said — “stay, this, us”. Curt’s thumb brushed Bob’s temple, feather-light, and Bob covered Curt’s hand with his own, squeezing once. A promise.
Curt didn’t move. Bob shifted, looking up. Curt’s eyes were closed, lashes dark against his cheeks, but his hand stayed tangled in Bob’s hair. Outside, pigeons scattered from a fire escape. Bob watched Curt’s chest rise and fall, the blond hair there still damp at the roots. He reached up, tracing the line of Curt’s jaw, stubble scraping his fingertip. Curt’s lips curved, just barely. No words. None needed. The morning stretched, golden and fragile, around them.
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