The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. If it feels personal… that’s between you and your conscience. Please don’t repost, reproduce, or do anything shady without permission—unless you're into cease and desist letters. Also: Save it. Like it. Comment on it. Send feedback, thoughts, corrections, compliments (especially compliments lmao). Seriously, I’ve been receiving a lot of love and it helps to motivate me! Yes, I read them.
Experiment
Liam lay there, alone, still naked, still slick with sweat, still open. His hole felt weird. His legs had drawn together at some point, but they felt like someone else’s. Like he wasn’t done being touched.
Liam could hear Noah, first walking around the cabin, then in the other room. Zippers. Footsteps. The clink of a water bottle being dropped into a bag. He hadn’t said anything. Not after that last line. Not when he pulled his fingers out of Liam. Not when he got dressed. Not even when he walked out.
And Liam didn’t call after him.
He just stared at the ceiling, hand still sticky with pre-cum and a half-hard dick, muscles still trembling.
Not from exertion.
Eventually—mechanically—he got up. Pulled his shorts on. Didn’t wipe anything down. Just moved, slow and quiet, like if he made too much noise it would somehow make things worse.
He stepped into the hallway. Paused near the doorframe.
Noah was crouched by his bag, back turned, stuffing clothes into it casually. His shoulders moved steady. No urgency at all.
Liam hovered there for a second, not sure if he was supposed to say something. And then, quietly—late—like it had taken a few extra seconds to form the thought:
“Noah…?”
No pause. No glance.
Just the zzzzzip of the bag, and Noah’s voice, flat:
“Pack. We gotta go. It’s late.”
He could’ve said anything else. Could’ve joked. Could’ve smirked. But there was nothing in his tone. No mockery. No softness. Just logistics.
And Liam—feeling like an idiot—packed.
He rolled up his hoodie. Stuffed it into the duffel. Felt his fingers shake as he zipped it shut. His skin still smelled like Noah. His thighs stuck together when he walked.
The hallway was colder than it had been all weekend.
Outside, even colder.
Noah got in the car first. Quiet. Just started the engine, turned the music, and stared out the windshield.
Liam buckled his seatbelt with fingers he barely felt. The buckle clicked louder than it should have.
Noah drove with one arm slung over the wheel, the other tapping along to a song Liam didn’t recognize.
Liam stared out the window, blinking too fast. His lower back ached. His hole still twitched sometimes when the car hit a bump. His cock was soft—finally.
He didn’t look at Noah. Not once.
And Noah never looked at him.
The drive back lasted forever for about two hours. And neither of them said a word.
When Noah finally pulled up in front of Liam’s place there was no signal. No words. Just parked and put the car in neutral.
Liam sat still. Paralyzed for a second, hand on the door handle but not moving.
He didn’t know if he should say anything.
Didn’t know what he’d say. He didn’t even understand what Noah was so angry about.
But after everything—the silence, the weight in his chest, the mess still clinging to his body—he gathered what little dignity he had left.
Turned slightly. Voice like a whisper.
“Hey…”
Noah didn’t look at him. Didn’t hesitate.
Just said:
“Dude. Just get out.”
Flat. Not angry. Not cruel.
Liam didn’t reply. He held still for a second. Then nodded once.
Reached back. Got his duffel from the rear seat.
Closed the door as gently as he could.
Walked up to his front steps without looking back.
And only when the key slid into the lock did he hear it— the soft hum of tires rolling away.
Liam woke up before his alarm.
It was still dark outside. His sheets were twisted.Tight. Like he hadn’t moved all night, even though his dreams had been frantic and shapeless.
He got up. Showered. Even though he had immediately showered when getting home yesterday. Tried to be fast about it, but paused halfway through, staring at the water circling the drain.
He got dressed and made coffee. Skipped breakfast. Work was slow. He stared at his monitor for long stretches, rereading the same paragraph three times before realizing it wasn’t even his project.
He replied to one Slack message. Said something like “lol yeah” and left it at that. Had a fleeting meeting with his boss at the break-room.
No texts.
He didn’t check his phone. Not that he was waiting for anything.
Except once.
Twice.
Then five times in twenty minutes, unlocking it without reading anything. No new messages. No notifications. Nothing.
But the second the clock hit five, his body tightened—like it knew something was coming.
He changed in the office bathroom. Took longer than usual with his shoelaces. Spent an extra minute smoothing down his shirt. Caught himself doing it and laughed—dry, embarrassed. It’s not like he was going on fucking a date, it was just gym.
He just wanted things to be normal again. He just wanted to talk.
Even thinking that made his stomach twist.
But like, talk about what?
They were friends. It wasn’t a big deal. It got weird. Fine. But they could get past that. That’s what friends do.
…Right?
He walked to the gym.
Tried not to walk fast.
Swiped in. Music loud. AC on. Machines clanking in that familiar, grounding rhythm.
And then—there he was.
Noah.
By the squat racks, leaning against the bar like he always did when guiding someone through an exercise. Laughing with them. His forearms flexed when he adjusted the plates. His hair was slightly damp. He looked good. Normal.
His heart kicked up immediately—like it had been holding its breath all day, just waiting for this.
And then the dread hit him.
What was he even going to say? ‘Hey, sorry for moaning while you had your fingers inside my ass?’
He flinched as if verbalizing what had happened hurt. He felt ridiculous.
And then Noah didn’t even look at him.
Not a glance. Not a nod. Not a smirk.
He racked the weights. High-fived a guy Liam didn’t know. Turned toward the water fountain—eyes passed right over Liam without catching.
And Liam just stood there, mouth dry, unsure whether to go over, say something, anything—
But Noah was already gone. Walking toward the desk. Grabbing his clipboard. Doing work things.
Liam drifted toward the dumbbells. Picked a set that felt too heavy. Put them back. Picked another. Tried a few reps. His body worked on muscle memory. His brain was somewhere else entirely.
He tried not to look again.
Failed.
Noah was now talking to Ashley.
Ashley, who was back. Wearing tiny shorts and a pink sports bra. Her hand touched Noah’s chest when she laughed at something. He didn’t move it away.
They kept talking.
Ashley said something and Noah grinned. That slow, lopsided grin Liam knew.
He looked away so fast his vision blurred.
Ten minutes later, he left early. Didn’t even finish his workout.
He stepped outside and his phone buzzed. His soul left his body.
He stopped abruptly and grabbed it instantly.
[PROMO: “Feeling sore?! Get 20% off recovery tools now!”]
He laughed. A little too loud. Deleted it.
And didn’t check again.
Liam continued going to the gym, obviously, but he’d been busy recently, work had been hectic. His boss dumped two projects on him last minute, and traffic had been a nightmare lately. So it made sense to shift his schedule a bit. Later sessions. New slots.
No big deal.
Besides, the gym was better when it was fuller. More energy. Less awkward small talk. Yeah.
Anyway, it was good for him—changing things up. Keeping his routine fresh.
Noah was still there though.
And Noah was fine.
He moved through the space like he always did—clipboard in hand, tank top tight, shoulders loose. He laughed. Smiled. Corrected someone’s form with a tap to their lower back. Joked with the staff. With clients. With everyone.
Well… Not everyone.
Every time Noah laughed, Liam felt it like a tug.
He caught himself noticing.
How many times Noah laughed. How many people got a high-five. How many times he said “bro,” or “you got this.”
The workout went on and Liam ended up stretching near the mirrored wall— half-distracted—when it happened.
A voice. Close. Familiar.
“Hey, what’s up, little buddy?”
Liam’s heart skipped a beat.
It was Noah.
His voice. That exact tone. The nickname.
His chest lit up.
He turned before he could stop himself—head snapping toward the sound, mouth almost starting to smile—
And then he saw it.
Noah was crouched near the front entrance, grinning at a little boy in a Spider-Man hoodie, fist-bumping him as his mom grabbed her keys and gym bag.
“You crushed it today, man,” Noah said. “Tell your mom she’s gotta catch up.”
The kid giggled and ran off.
Noah stood, ruffled his own hair, and walked off without looking anywhere near Liam.
Liam just stood there.
Incredulous.
Heat drained from his face so fast he felt dizzy.
He turned back toward the mirror and stared—at nothing. At his reflection. At how stupid he looked. Like he’d just been one-upped by a fucking seven-year-old.
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
I hate when he calls me that.
Some dumb patronizing shit. I’m taller than him, it doesn’t make sense. Not even funny.
He bent forward in the stretch again, held his breath.
This is so stupid. Why do I care? Friendships end all the time.
But his throat stayed tight.
And he didn’t stretch the other side.
Two weeks had passed since the cabin.
It didn’t feel like two weeks. It felt like one long, drawn-out moment, stretched thin across fourteen days of inertia.
Liam had been quieter. Not just at the gym. Everywhere.
His texts got shorter. His calls went to voicemail. He stopped making plans—not out of spite, just… Existing was already taking too much energy.
His mom came to visit that weekend. Fucking yay.
It was planned. Nothing special. She brought food, commented on his laundry situation, asked about work, dates and routine.
He said “fine” a lot.
She smiled like she didn’t quite believe it, but didn’t push.
He didn’t jerk off that weekend. Actually hadn’t since… He tried once, late at night after she’d gone to bed, but it felt odd. Forced. His body didn’t want it. Or maybe it did—but not like that.
And all through that second week, Noah remained silent.
Not in an aggressive way. Just… absent. Present in the same rooms. The same spaces. Laughing with the same people.
Still fine. Still normal.
Liam told himself it didn’t matter. That they weren’t that close. That things got weird and it was better to let it go. And then he pressed repeat.
And he believed that.
Most of the time.
Until Tuesday night.
He’d showered. Dried off. Climbed into bed. Scrolled past nothing for twenty minutes, hoping to feel tired.
And then—without thinking, really—he opened their chat.
No new messages. No typing bubble. Just the old history. The last dumb video Noah sent a week before the trip. A meme Liam had responded to with “lol wtf.”
His thumb hovered.
Just for a second.
Then he typed a single:
[Liam: hey]
Sent it.
That was it. Fuck it.
No second message. No follow-up.
He stared at the screen for another five minutes before setting the phone down, face-down, again.
He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it.
He didn’t even want to talk, not really. Not after everything.
But—
He just missed joking around. Talking shit. Getting hammered. The dumb back-and-forth that made days easier. He didn’t have a lot of people like that. Friends. Not really. He wasn’t trying to cling or anything—he just didn’t want to lose the one fucking friend he still had. Right?
Liam didn’t even glance over when Noah walked into the gym anymore. He saw him, of course. Heard his voice. He yelled at someone misusing a machine. But Liam kept his eyes fixed on the pull-up bar, like that stupid slab of metal held some kind of emotional neutrality.
He was mid-set when he sensed the shift—an approach, footsteps too familiar to be anyone else.
And then:
“So, what’s up?”
Noah’s voice. Easy, casual. Like there wasn’t two weeks of silence and a message left on seen between them.
Liam froze mid-wipe of his face with his towel, heart kicking a little too hard in his chest. He played it cool, or tried to. Dropped the towel, gave a shrug.
“Not much,” he said. “Just… working out.”
Noah nodded, leaning lightly on the side of the machine casually.
“I saw your message,” he added, like it didn’t mean anything. “Didn’t mean to ignore it or anything. Just… I don’t know, dude. Things have felt kinda weird.”
Liam swallowed and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess.”
Noah looked at him then. Not with anger. Not with distance. With that same calm, unreadable face he always wore when he was about to say something that sounded honest.
“I don’t like drama, man,” he said, almost lightly. “You’re too in your head sometimes, I keep telling you. And I just… I don’t think everything has to be a thing, you know? Just have fun and stuff.”
Liam didn’t respond at first. He felt like he was being scolded for a crime he wasn’t even sure he committed.
“I didn’t mean to make it a thing,” Liam mumbled. “It just… I didn’t expect… that… to happen. I wasn’t being weird, I swear.”
Noah smiled—warm, forgiving. That’s what made it worse.
“I get it,” he said. “It’s all good. Just… keep it simple, yeah? I’m not into drama. I get enough of that with chicks—I don’t need it creeping into my friendships too.”
Then he clapped Liam’s shoulder once, light and brief.
“Chill out,” Noah added, stepping back like they were done.
And then he was walking away again, rejoining the noise and movement of the gym like nothing had ever happened.
Liam stayed there, towel in hand, every part of him buzzing and empty all at once.
Liam was glad. Noah had forgiven him, or whatever that was. Things were “cool” again, right?
So yeah. Relief. A big one. Liam felt like he could finally breathe again, like the invisible pressure that had been sitting on his chest for days had finally eased off. Maybe he’d overthought it all. Maybe it really wasn’t that deep.
Still, part of him kept circling back to the way Noah had said “too in your head”—like it was a flaw Liam should’ve known better by now.
He walked to the locker room with something close to a smile tugging at his mouth. It was fine. They were talking again.They were cool.
Over the next few days, things… shifted.
Not all at once. Just in small, manageable pieces.
Noah started nodding when they crossed paths at the gym again. The first time it happened, Liam felt it in his spine. A little jolt of ‘it’s okay now’. He nodded back, too fast. Like a reflex.
Then came a few comments. Small talk. Gym talk. “New shoes?” “You on pull day or just pretending?” “Shut up, dude. I’m sore.”
And Liam let himself ease into it.
They weren’t really joking like before. Not yet. But they were speaking.
By Friday, Liam wasn’t over it. But he was feeling good.
And then the text came.
[Noah: if you’re done being weird, come train]
Liam blinked at it. Read it twice. His heart lurched before his brain even caught up.
[Liam: yeah sure]
The reply came quick.
[Noah: still working tho. you’ll have to wait till after close. i’m locking up so come to gym at 11]
Liam’s fingers hovered.
A part of him hesitated—but not really.
[Liam: no problem]
Work dragged. Liam barely paid attention. He checked the time more than he worked. Something about waiting made the hours feel longer.
He went home first. Dropped his bag. Changed shirts. Grabbed his shaker, keys, done.
The walk to the gym felt normal. Whatever tension was sitting under his skin, he ignored it. It’s just training. Just catching a workout. Like before.
He knew Noah was still working—he said as much—but he showed up anyway. Twenty minutes before close. Just… waiting. Sitting on the edge of a plyo box by the stretching area, scrolling through his phone.
From where he sat, Liam could hear the front desk.
“Hey, Noah—did you see that message in the group chat?” the girl asked. “Another mugging. Ashgrove Street again.”
Noah paused mid-swipe of his keycard. “Jesus. That’s the third one this month, right?”
She nodded, lowering her voice. “Be careful, okay?”
Noah just snorted. “They should be careful.”
She rolled her eyes.
Liam didn’t look up, but his fingers froze on the screen.
Oh—right. They must be talking about that webmail the gym sent last week, warning people to avoid walking around the area alone at night. Security stuff. He hadn’t really paid attention.
The gym was already thinning out. Friday night. People had better things to do. Dates. Parties. Whatever normal people did with their lives.
Noah was at the front, behind the desk, talking to one of the trainers. Half-distracted. Scribbling something on a clipboard.
He looked… normal. Same as always. Black tank top. Athletic shorts hanging low on his hips. Cap turned backward. Forearms flexing every time he wrote something down.
Noah didn’t look over for a while. And then—finally—he glanced his way. Just a flicker of eye contact. A smirk. Barely a nod.
“Almost done,” Noah called out. “Gimme ten.”
Liam nodded. Too fast. “Yeah, cool.”
Noah went back to whatever he was doing. Counting supplements. Closing out tabs on the POS. Tossing empty shaker bottles into the sink behind the desk.
Bit by bit, the gym emptied out. A couple walked out laughing. One guy finished his deadlifts, racked his bar, and gave Noah a fist bump on his way out.
Then it was just Liam.
And Noah.
And the hum of the fluorescent lights. The echo of weights that weren’t being used. The low thud of Noah’s playlist still going over the speakers—something bass-heavy. Rhythmic. Slow.
Noah walked over to the glass doors. Locked them. Drew the blinds.
“You ready?” he asked, turning back, tossing his keys onto the front desk.
Liam stood. Nodded. “Yeah.”
Yeah. This felt good. Like he’d finally gotten his friend back. Hell, maybe tomorrow they could hit the bar. He’d even ask Noah to talk to Ashley about her friend Claire—get that moving finally. Yeah. Clean slate. Back to normal.
“Cool,” Noah said. “Let’s warm up.”
The workout started normal enough. Couple warm-up sets. Noah called the exercises, Liam followed and Noah went in after each rep. Just like old times. Noah didn’t over explain anything, didn’t talk about form much. Just gave the numbers and loaded the plates for them.
It felt… Grounding.
Until the incline bench.
Noah set it up. Adjusted the backrest. Grabbed the bar, slapped on the plates without asking.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re pushing today.”
Liam sat down. Grabbed the bar. Easy warm-up first. Noah stood behind him, barely paying attention. Just hands near the bar for show.
Second set, Noah added more weight. Nothing crazy. Still well within what Liam had done before.
“Alright, ready?” Noah said, stepping forward. One hand tapped Liam’s elbow. “Keep these tucked. Not flaring.”
Liam nodded. “Okay.”
Noah shifted to spot him. Dropped down to one knee beside the bench. Knee pressed into the frame, one foot planted. Close. Braced. Professional.
Then, it happened.
Noah raised one arm, bracing the bar lightly with his hand—but the move pulled his shoulder open. Tank top gaping. Arm up. And just like that—his armpit was right there.
It hit Liam like a truck. Wet. Heavy. Not just sweat, a full day of it. Noah had been moving all afternoon—working, cleaning, walking laps around the gym. It clung to him now.
His brain blanked. Full white-out. He didn’t even realize he’d started lifting. The bar moved—but his chest tightened for an entirely different reason.
Three reps in, his dick twitched. Completely involuntary. His arms trembled. Breath stuttered.
By rep five, it was happening. Hard. Fully. Mid-set.
Panic hit second. Like fuck, fuck, fuck. But his body didn’t care. His legs tensed, squeezing together instinctively. Elbows flared. The bar wobbled.
“Yo,” Noah said, catching the bar, looking at him weird. “What was that?”
Liam exhaled sharp. Let go. Sat up fast. Palms wiping on his thighs.
“Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know. I just—”
“Dude, you went horrible on a weight I know you can lift,” Noah cut in. Neutral. Not mad. Just… clocking it.
“Yeah. I think I’m done for the day, this one’s the last one anyway”. Liam’s ears burned. He didn’t look back. Just grabbed his water and tried to hide his tented shorts.
“Nah, run it back after me,” Noah said lying down on the bench. Already re-racking the bar. “You got this.”
Liam hesitated. “Yeah… Yeah, okay.”
Noah finished his rep and Liam laid back down.
And then Noah moved closer. Subtly. Smooth. Dropped both knees now—one braced, the other posted up. Balanced perfectly. Arm lifted again. Pit literally over Liam now.
Closer.
Way fucking closer.
The smell punched him straight in the spine. That dense, raw male smell. Noah’s. Way stronger than the first time. He could see the sweat pooled in the curve of skin.
The bar came down. Once. Twice. Arms shaking. Cock already half-hard from the first round—and now it surged again.
His wrists buckled. The bar dipped.
“C’mon,” Noah said. “Elbows in, dude. Push.”
Liam gasped. Tried. Couldn’t. Arms jelly.
The bar wobbled. Noah caught it easy before it could crush Liam’s chest. Re-racked. Stood up like it was nothing.
“Yeah,” Noah said. Breathing out a laugh. “Knew it.”
Liam sat there, elbows on his knees, head down. Hard. Confused. His chest was tight like he hadn’t caught a full breath since the first rep.
He opened his mouth—“What do you mean?”—but the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.
Noah didn’t wait. He was already moving. Pulling plates off the bar. Racking them like it was just any other Friday night workout. Calm. Efficient. Like nothing had happened.
Liam blinked. Looked up. “Wait, what did you mean—”
“Spot the weights for a sec,” Noah cut in. Didn’t look back. Already bending to grab a forty-five off the floor. “Then locker room. Come.”
Liam stood. Tried to adjust himself as discreetly as possible—which was impossible, really. His shorts were doing zero favors. He could feel his cock leaking already.
He helped re-rack a couple plates, hands barely working. Heart pounding so hard it felt like it was rattling against his ribs.
And Noah? Totally chill. Guarding the last few weights. Spinning one plate lazily before sliding it into place. When the last plate thunked into place, Noah glanced toward the locker room, then back at Liam.
“C’mon.”
Then turned. Walked.
The locker room door swung shut behind them with a heavy echo. Tile. Metal. Empty.
Noah walked straight in. Zero hesitation. Tossed his water bottle onto the bench. Peeled his tank top off one-handed. Let it drop on the floor. Shorts next—pushed them down in one motion. Boxers too. Totally naked. Like it was nothing.
Turned. Looked at Liam. Waiting.
Liam stood frozen by the door. Jaw locked. Eyes darting—at the floor, at the bench, at anywhere but Noah’s body. His cock and balls hanging low.
Noah didn’t say a word. Just stood there. Casual. Relaxed. Watching.
Like ‘Yeah dude, your move.’
Liam’s throat clicked. His hands hovered near the waistband of his shorts. Hesitated. A full second. Two. Three.
Noah cocked his head—like really?—but didn’t rush him. Didn’t push. Just stood there, loose, arms relaxed, totally bare.
Liam swallowed. Caved. Pushed his shorts down. Briefs with them.
His dick slapped up, angry-red, leaking. Fully exposed. His face burned so hot it felt like it might peel off.
And Noah—Noah grinned. Wide. Bright.
“I fucking knew it, dude.”
He stepped closer. Loose. Casual. Hands on his hips now.
“It’s the smell, huh? That’s it, right? You do get off on the smell of my sweat.”
Liam’s mouth opened. But he had absolutely no voice. His hands twitched like he didn’t know where to put them.
Noah laughed. Actually laughed. Threw his head back.
“Man. I knew about my feet… but the pit too? Damn.” His eyes dragged up Liam’s body, landing square on his cock. “That’s some Pavlovian shit, bro. You know? Like… the dogs? Drooling when the bell rings?”
“Yeah… only your bell’s my damp armpit.”
Grin sharp. Mean. Triumphant. Like he’d just solved a puzzle and was real proud of himself.
“Dude. That’s… fucked.”
No judgement in his tone. Just fact.
And Liam? Still hard. Still leaking. Still waiting for the earth to swallow him whole.
Liam’s hands hovered in front of his dick. Palms twitching. He couldn’t even cover himself right —it was pointless. His cock wasn’t going anywhere.
His mouth worked, useless, jaw tight like he had to force the words out with pliers. Until finally—cracked.
“I’m not a fag.”
It came out sharp. Fast. Desperate.
“I’m not—I don’t—I don’t know why this happens. I swear, man, I don’t… I don’t know.” His throat clicked. Chest tight. “I don’t know why. I don’t get it. I’m sorry—fuck—I don’t—I’m not like that—”
He stopped. Couldn’t even finish it. Breath hitched. Eyes burned. Shoulders curled in, like maybe if he got small enough it would just go away.
Noah blinked. Then blinked again. Then—snorted. A grin spreading like wildfire across his face.
“Dude… what?” He laughed. Shook his head. “Who the fuck said you were a fag?”
He stepped in. Loose. Bare. Unbothered. Palms flipped out in a lazy shrug.
“Like… bro. You were dating a chick when I met you.” He tilted his head. “You were literally railing her in the back seat after leg day. I remember that shit.”
His grin widened. Sharper. Meaner—but friendly mean. Like a big brother teasing.
“Nobody said anything about you being gay. The fuck, dude?” His shoulders rolled back. Easy. Relaxed. “But like… who even cares why you get hard? You just do. Chill.”. He stared at his face. “Dude, you know how many times I’ve had to tell you that? Get. Out. Of. Your. Head”
He gestured at Liam’s cock. Flicked his hand toward it like “Bro, it’s not even weird.”
“Look at it. You get off on my sweat. Big deal.” He shrugged. “It’s funny as fuck, yeah. But like… it’s not deep. Nobody’s judging you. Not me, anyway.”
Another grin. Crooked. Sharp. “A little freaky, yeah. But not… like… whatever you’re making it in your head.”
Then, like he was offering advice on deadlifts:
“Dude. Relax. You’re fine. You’re good.”
Like this wasn’t the most humiliating, confusing, reality-shattering conversation of Liam’s life.
Noah just stood there. Cock hanging out. Smiling.
Noah shifted. Still loose. Still naked. Sat back on the locker bench like it was his living room couch. Legs spread. One hand lazily rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Yo… when’s the last time you even got off anyway?”
Liam was still trying to get back to the ground. “What?”
“Yeah.” Noah squinted, tilted his head. “When?”
Liam’s mouth opened. Closed. Jaw tight. “Not…” He rubbed the back of his neck, face burning. “Not since… the cabin.”
Noah’s eyes widened. Hand slapped over his own chest. “Dude.” He blinked, shocked. “That’s… actually adorable.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Ashley literally got me off yesterday.” He grinned.
Noah leaned back. Stretched. Arms over the bench. Fully open. Fully loose. Pit fully exposed.
“Alright.” His grin sharpened. “Let’s run an experiment.” He patted the bench between his legs. “C’mere.”
Liam blinked. “Huh…?”
“C’mere,” Noah repeated. “Crouch down in front of me. Stuff your face in my armpit sweat… and jerk off.”
Like he was asking Liam for a phone charger.
“Let’s see if it’s really the smell that makes your dick like that. Chemical, right? Science.”
Liam’s lungs locked. Whole body stiff. “Dude…”
“Nah, nah.” Noah shook his head, cutting him off. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just an experiment, man. Chill.”
Liam’s heart tried to punch a hole through his chest. He stared. Frozen.
Liam stood there. Skin buzzing. Chest tight. Legs locked like if he moved, he might actually collapse. His cock pulsed—flaring, red, dripping. Useless. Betraying him in real time.
“Dude…” Again. His voice cracked. Thin. Embarrassed.
Noah didn’t move much. Just leaned back a little further on the bench. One hand lazily scratched behind his head. The other arm stayed up—armpit fully open. Damp. Humid. Smelling like heat, salt, skin, and sweat that had been there for hours.
“Bro…” Noah grinned. “You’re doing it again.” He shook his head like a disappointed coach. “In your head. Get. Out. Of. It.”
Then, with that same lazy grin:
“Chill. It’s not weird. You’re the only one making it weird.”
Liam’s throat clicked. “F-fuck…” His hands twitched at his sides. Palms slick. His heart felt like it was punching holes in his ribcage.
Noah patted the bench between his spread legs. Not hard. Just… a little “bro, let’s go” tap.
“C’mon. Let’s run the experiment.” No pressure in his voice. None.
Liam moved lazily towards him. His knees bent before his brain even caught up. Body on instinct. On autopilot. On script.
For a second, he just hovered there. Knees on the tile. Hands twitching at his sides. Stunned. Like maybe the floor would crack and make him disappear before this went any further.
Noah didn’t say anything. Didn’t push. Didn’t even move. Just sat there, leaned back, arm still lazily draped over the bench, pit wide open, waiting. His cock wasn’t even hard.
“If you’re not into it, just move away and we’ll hit the showers, cool?” Completely unfazed.
And that made it worse.
The silence stretched. Too long. His heart pounding so loud it hurt. His face burned. His cock twitched so hard it jumped against his stomach.
The internal voice spun up, full throttle:
‘It’s just the smell. Just a test. Just… proving it. Not weird. Not anything. Get out of your head.’
His hands hit the floor. Then one knee shifted. Scooted forward. Then the other. Slow. Awkward. Jittery.
Each inch felt heavier. Like gravity got stronger the closer he got. Heat radiating off Noah’s skin already hitting his face before he was even there.
His lips tightened. Fingers curled into fists against the tile. His brain screamed “what the fuck are you doing”—but his body didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.
Closer.
Closer.
Close enough to feel the humidity rolling off Noah’s armpit.
And Noah? That same fucking grin. Waiting him out like a tiger in tall grass. Didn’t flinch. Just sat there.
The heat hit first. Then the smell. Sharp. Sour. Wet. Thick. Heavy. Way worse. Way better. The sweat beading under dark curls of hair, the sticky sheen of skin, the sheer humidity radiating off Noah’s body.
His lungs locked. His jaw trembled. His lips barely an inch from skin.
His hand… moved. Found his cock. Gripped it. Shaking.
“It’s not weird. It’s not weird. Get out of your head. Get. Out. Of. Your. Head.”
And then he started. Slow. Awkward. Desperate. Stroking.
The smell swallowing him whole.
“Dude, didn’t think you’d actually do it…” Noah giggled “That’s awesome”
Liam ignored him and stroked. Slow. Awkward. Shaky. His grip was loose. Sloppy. Like he hadn’t fully signed off on any of this. Like if he went too fast, it would become real.
The smell was… god. Brutal. Heavy. A thick, human odor. Skin and sweat and something so much worse when it’s this close.
Noah stayed exactly where he was. Leaning back. Loose. Cock still soft. Arm still raised. Smiling. Watching. Letting it happen. Letting Liam lose himself.
“Man…” Noah muttered, lazy. “I’ve been running around all day. That’s crazy…”
No laugh. Just observing. Like it was just something to note.
And Liam… kept going. Breath stuttering. Jaw clenched. Hand moving.
But then—he didn’t even realize it at first—his hand started moving faster. A little tighter. A little more desperate. His hips twitched. Breathing accelerated. His body tipping into it before his brain could catch up.
Noah noticed. Instantly. His grin sharpened—meaner. Hungrier. Cruel in that lazy, effortless way that was ten times worse than outright mocking.
“Sooo…” His voice tilted—sharp. Bite behind it now. “You do like this, huh?”
Liam flinched but didn’t answer. His jaw locked preemptively. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. But he couldn’t make his mouth move.
Noah’s smile thinned. His tone dropped—lower. More serious. More aggressive.
“Hey. I asked you something. Answer me”
“You like it. Don’t you.”
Not a question actually. Not really.
Liam swallowed. Whole body shaking. Tried to say “No”—tried. But his throat betrayed him. His lips trembled. And what came out wasn’t a word. Just… a sound. A noise. Defeated. Quiet.
“…yes…”
Barely there. Choked. Ashamed.
Noah’s smirk split wide. Eyes flashed. And he leaned forward just a hair.
“Yeah…” he echoed. “Then you’re gonna love this.”
And before Liam could even process it—Noah flexed. Bicep ballooned under his head. Pit clamped shut—tight, wet, suffocating. At the same second, Noah’s free hand came up—grabbed the back of Liam’s head—and shoved.
Buried him.
Face full-on smashed into the swampy mess of Noah’s armpit. Hair. Sweat. Skin. Heat. Wet. Dense. Manly.
And Liam—Liam broke. His hand jerked his cock hard. Fast. Desperate. A sharp, brutal twitch. And at the same time—a thick, heavy glob of precum pulsed out of his cock. Just gushed out of him. Dripped hot against Noah’s left foot.
A slutty moan ripped out of him. Muffled. Soaked straight into Noah’s skin.
Noah raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Drawn out. Watching like it was a TV show.
“Theeeeeere’s my little buddy…” Noah dragged it out. Long. Thick with smugness. With ownership. Like he’d just finished teaching a pet a trick.
Didn’t let go. Didn’t ease off. Held Liam there like a trophy.
“Knew you had it in you.”
But then—Noah’s hand shifted. His grip on Liam’s skull loosened. Fingers unclenched. He pulled back just enough to… test it.
See.
See if Liam would snap out of it. Pull away. Wake up. Crawl back. Do anything.
But Liam didn’t.
He went in fucking harder.
Pressed.
Buried his own dignity deeper into the heat. The wet. The stink. His breath caught. Jaw slack. Hands shaking as his cock twitched violently in his fist. His hips stuttered forward—actually grinding air.
Noah’s eyebrows shot up. Laugh exploded out of him.
“Aww, yeah… look at you…” His voice dipped, cocky, taunting, triumphant. “Yeah… go on then. Go all in my armpit stink, little buddy. Fucking go for it.”
Noah dropped his arm behind his head—opened it wider. Offered. Like a gift. Like bait. Liam didn’t even hesitate
After a while though —Noah stopped. Abrupt. One hand slid up—fingers curling under Liam’s jaw. Tilting. Lifting.
Forcing him to look.
Direct eye contact.
Noah grinned. Smug.
“Hey…” Voice dipped. “…you want the other?”
Liam flinched—broke eye contact like it burned. Jaw trembling. Mouth open. Just the pounding in his chest and the brutal throb in his cock.
His hips stuttered forward—a full-body flinch toward yes. But his mouth? His brain? Stalled. Glitched.
Noah waited. Watching him fall apart in real time. Just—
“C’mon. You can have it,” His thumb slid under Liam’s chin. “All you gotta do is ask for it.”
Liam’s throat closed. Tight. Dry. Humiliation burned up his spine. And as if on instinct:
“…yes…” Like a whisper, a plea. Like a confession.
Noah’s grin split. Triumphant.
“Of course you do, little buddy. Lose yourself in there, come on.”
His other arm came up—slow. Lazy. Deliberate. Cap tugged lower. Both pits open now. Like a reward. Like a punishment. Like fucking both.
And as Liam conceded—buried his face into the other— his breath hitched, split into a wounded sound again. A shaky whimper—half-moan, half-sob. Something between a gasp and a sob, all breath, all filth. His fist worked frantic now, hips stuttering like his body was on autopilot.
Noah chuckled—low. Mean.
“Yeah… Breathe it in. You love it. Don’t you?” His voice dipped, taunting.
Then, Noah shifted. Sat up like he was getting bored—like Liam with his face buried in pit and jerking off like a maniac was background noise.
“Dude…” Noah stretched, popping his neck. “I wanna lay down.”
Casual.
He stood leaving Liam’s face damp with sweat and confused. Walked to the corner. Grabbed one of the gym mats—dragged it back across the tile. Dropped it. Kicked it flat. Laid down—lazy. Spread out. One knee bent. Cap tugged lower.
Right arm lifted. Armpit open. Left hand? Tapping the mat next to him.
Tap tap.
“C’mere.”
Like Liam’s name was actually Sparky or some shit.
Liam’s chest tightened. His eyes darted. But his body was already moving. Crawling. Knees on tile. Drawn in.
He lowered himself—face sliding back into that heavy, wet heat. Smell suffocating. Thick. Humid. His breath shook—chest tight.
And then—Noah’s voice again.
“Lick it off.”
Silence. For a second. Two. Liam didn’t move. Couldn’t. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. His face burned. His jaw jerked.
But then—his lips parted. Tongue edged out. Tasted it. Salt. Skin. Sweat.
The moment he swallowed Noah’s taste, he moaned.
“Nnnghhh—fuck…”
Noah grinned. Not even looking at him. His free hand came up—slid down Liam’s back. Teasing. Then lower. Palm skimming over his ass. Squeezing. Caressing.
Liam froze. Tongue paused. Fist still wrapped tight around his cock.
Noah’s voice tilted. Playful. Cocky. Laughing.
“Dude… you’re in fucking heaven right now. What’s in it for me?”
His hand squeezed Liam’s ass—a little firmer now.
“Like… seriously.” Noah’s palm dragged slow over Liam’s ass, fingers curling. “Look at you. I’m sitting here, being a good friend… lettin’ you get your freaky little rocks off.” He gave a lazy squeeze. “Least you could do is let me have some fun too, right?”
A laugh. Light. Easy. Like it was some dumb argument about whose turn it was to spot.
“Fair’s fair, little buddy.”
Liam’s throat squeezed. His knees trembled. His face stayed locked in place—but his hips jolted. Cock jumped. Shame and arousal wrapped so tight he couldn’t tell which was which. He was trying to think, to calculate the consequences again but he just didn’t have it in him.
And with that he went back. Right back to the pit. Licked. Sloppier now. Breath stuttering.
And that’s when Noah’s fingers slid lower—trailing between his cheeks. Flickering. Just a tease at first. A little prod. A little flick. Not asking. Not warning. Just… claiming.
Noah’s fingers didn’t rush it. Just stayed there first—right at the edge of his hole. Testing. Feeling how Liam clenched up. How he twitched.
A test.
A lazy push.
And then—pressure. The tip slid in.
Liam gasped. His fist jerked on his cock like it wasn’t even connected to the rest of him. A sound fell out of his mouth. Not quite a gasp.
“Shhh, shhhh…” Noah whispered. “I’m here… Breathe, little buddy.”
Like he was helping him stretch. Coaching him through hamstring mobility.
His thumb rubbed lazy circles on the back of Liam’s thigh. Like encouragement.
And then—a second finger.
No warning really. Just… slipped in.
Liam jolted a little. Whole body shivered. His knees wobbled. His hips gave one dumb, involuntary twitch forward—cock leaking like a river in his fist.
A high, breathy noise escaped him. Something shameful and small.
Noah laughed. Not mean. Just amused.
“Bro…” A snort. “You’re gasping like I’m murdering you or something.”
His fingers curled. Pressed deeper. Feeling Liam’s insides. By then the two fingers were deep inside his asshole.
“Relax. Breathe. Don’t fight it.” His palm smoothed over Liam’s ass, squeezing—like grounding him. “You’re doing fine.”
And Liam… hated, couldn’t stand, how that worked. Hated how his shoulders loosened. How his hips tipped back into the pressure. Like his body knew the script better than he did.
His moans were still small. Tight. Little stutters of air every time Noah’s fingers pressed deeper, twisted, stretched.
Then—Noah risked it.
His fingers shifted. Pressed. A little more stretch.
Liam tensed instantly. “Wait—” A gasp. “Wait, dude…”
But Noah didn’t. He pushed. Just a little.
The tip of a third finger edged in—just barely—and Liam seized. Whole body lock. His hands hit the mat. His head dropped. Another sound punched out of him—sharp, panicked, humiliated.
“Ahhhh—f-fuck… Ahh”
“Yeah, relax your hole… breathe,” Noah said, casual as ever. “You’re ok. You got this.”
His thumb rubbed lazy circles against Liam’s lower back, coaxing. “C’mon, dude. Let it in. It’ll feel so good.”
And somehow—somehow—Liam’s hips tipped back. His body asked for it. Without meaning to. Without permission.
Noah felt it.
“Ohhhh yeah… that’s it.” His voice dipped, grin wide. “There you go, little buddy. Come and get it.”
The third slid deeper. Knuckle by knuckle. A slow, steady stretch.
Liam gasped—broken, high, desperate. His forehead hit Noah’s side. His fist jerked his cock frantically.
“Ahhh—fuckkkk—ah—ahhh, fff—” Voice muffled in Noah’s armpit.
Panic twisted in his chest. What the hell’s wrong with me? His brain was short-circuiting—rational thought dissolving into heat, into friction, into trembling, pathetic need.
This shouldn’t… it shouldn’t feel like this. This isn’t me. This isn’t— His fist stuttered, then squeezed harder. His thighs shook. Fuck—fuck, what’s happening to me…? His own voice echoed in his skull, cracked and wrecked, swallowed by the surge rolling through his nerves like static.
His voice cracked again, his face licking Noah’s pit desperately. It was both a whisper and a cry. Raw confusion, humiliation, rationalization and pleasure braided so tight he couldn’t even tell them apart.
Noah’s grin sharpened. “Dude, I can feel your asslips twitch. I think your hole’s got a crush on me”
His fingers curled, working him open. Slow. Confident. Lazy. Another twist. Another press. Three fingers, knuckles deep.
Liam’s moan broke free. High-pitched. Loud. Thin. His hips rolled, grinding against air like his cock needed friction or he’d die. His throat clicked, jaw trembling, hand squeezing around his cock like his entire nervous system was short-circuiting.
Noah shifted. His eyes dropped down Liam’s body—lazy, assessing—and his smirk sharpened. “…Dude.” His voice dropped, edged in amusement. “You’re… close, huh.”
Liam flinched—like Noah had just read his mind. Before Liam could process it, Noah shoved off the ground and walked away—around a corner—leaving him panting, squirming, wrecked on the floor. Liam blinked, confused, chest heaving.
Noah appeared again—holding a barbell, the kind used for chest presses, casual as hell like it weighed nothing.
“Wait—what…?” Liam’s voice jumped—tight, nervous. “Dude—what’re you doing?”
Noah’s laugh was pure trouble. “You’ll see. Just relax, man.” He dropped down to the floor, lying on his back—head-to-feet with Liam—stretching out like this was the most casual thing ever. The bar rested across his lap.
Then—without ceremony—Noah shoved one of his sweaty feet right against Liam’s face. “Here,” he grinned, “suck on that and shut up.”
“Wha—dude—” Liam jolted back instinctively, face burning, breath stammering—except Noah’s foot just followed him, pressing in, toes curling against his lips like it belonged there. “This shit is too much, maybe we shouldn’t be doing that…”
And before Liam could even fully freak out, Noah tilted the bar—deliberately— pointing the end right toward Liam’s ass.
“It’s about three fingers, dude, nothing you haven’t had in you.” Noah smirked, voice low, cruel, lazy. “C’mon. Open up.” Then spat on his hand and rubbed the end of the bar.
The second the bar pressed in, Liam’s whole body jolted—knees buckling, fists clawing at the floor, head thrown back with a ragged, broken gasp. It punched the air out of him. His mouth fell open—sound spilling out before he could even try to stop it.
“Ah—ahhhh—fuck, dude—” His voice cracked. Shook. Veins popping in his neck. “I don’ttt—Oh my God—what the fuck—what the fuuuuuUUUUUCK—”
The heat in his belly coiled, molten, mean—his cock twitching like it couldn’t keep up with his own brain shutting down. His hips rolled, like his body was trying to run into the sensation and his brain away from it.
Noah’s eyes flicked down—sharp, knowing. That lazy smirk tugged wider. “…Hah. You got loud, huh?” His foot nudged up, pressing back against Liam’s cheek—his toes curling against Liam’s mouth like they belonged there.
“C’mon. Don’t lose it now.” His voice dropped, thick and coaxing, but with that cruel little twist of amusement. “Breathe in my feet, man. Let go. Like you were doing with my pits.”
Liam whimpered—whimpered, for God’s sake—and his lips parted, barely thinking, barely there, his face shoved up against Noah’s foot. He could taste the sweat, the fabric of Noah’s sock clinging damp between his teeth—and it made his cock pulse, twitch.
“F-fuck… Noah… please…” His hips lurched. He bit down— protest and surrender, but it didn’t matter. The second he did, Noah pumped the bar deeper—steady, unrelenting, until Liam was writhing, panting, mouthing at Noah’s foot like he couldn’t tell where the humiliation ended and the pleasure began. His hand jerking his own cock, violently now.
Noah’s gaze dropped again—zeroed in on the twitch of Liam’s hips, the desperate little grind of his fist, the way his cock throbbed like it was trying to jump out of his body.
Noah’s expression twisted— a scowl. “…Dude. Seriously?” His voice flattened— annoyed. “Again? You’re getting close again?”
Liam gasped—choked on it—like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which, to be fair… he literally had.
“F-fuck, I—”
Noah didn’t let him finish. “Okay. Nope. Enough of that.” His palm shot out—grabbing Liam’s wrist, fingers digging in tight. “Hands off your little dick, okay? For fuck’s sake, man. You’re like a kid with candy.” His tone was sharp, dry, unimpressed.
Liam trembled—mouth falling open against Noah’s foot, heat burning up his neck, his chest, his ears. His body still bucked, needy, frantic—except now his own hand was pinned, helpless.
Noah gave his wrist a tug—forcing his arm down, away from himself. “There. Much better.” His voice dropped again—lazy, smug. “Just focus on the feel of your ass lips stretching, yeah? And my smell in your mouth. Kay?”
His toes curled against Liam’s lips—pressing in harder, grinding just enough for the fabric to catch against Liam’s tongue.
And as Noah grabbed the bar again—nudging it deeper, dragging it slow and deliberate—Liam’s whole body trembled. His eyes bulging.
“Good,” Noah murmured—breath catching, voice low, tight, satisfied. His hands tightened on the bar. “Now… hold still, dude. We ain’t done.” His smirk sharpened. “Here’s what you’re gonna do… Grab my cock. A real fucking cock. If you’re that desperate to jerk something, then make yourself useful.”
Liam’s hand trembled—hovered for a second, pathetic, weak—like even touching it might be some point of no return. But his body didn’t wait for his brain to catch up. His fingers wrapped around Noah’s cock—hot, heavy, obscene.
It was so thick. Fit tight against his palm—too tight. His skin felt wet before he even started moving. Noah was leaking—dripping, warm slick painting Liam’s fingers like his cock had been aching for attention this whole time. Veins pressed firm against Liam’s grip, throbbing under his touch. The skin was flushed—angry red.
Noah hissed through his teeth—his hips twitched, but his grin only sharpened. “Yeah. That’s right.” His voice dropped—low, rough, filthy. “Real dick. Feels different, huh?”
Liam could barely breathe—barely think. His hand stuttered, jerking Noah off—wet sounds starting instantly, loud, obscene, slick. His own cock throbbed, untouched, like it was burning up from the inside out.
And then—Noah moved.
The weight against his face disappeared. Noah pulled his foot away, sitting up—knees scraping the floor—and shifted. Got on his knees. Slid in close.
His cock hovered—right there. Inches from Liam’s face. So close Liam could feel the heat radiating off it—see every drop of precum threatening to fall on his face.
Then—hands on him. Noah’s palms slid on Liam’s chest. Fingers pinched, rolled—tugged at his nipples without warning.
Liam screamed. His whole body arched—hips buckling, toes curling, his grip on Noah’s cock spasming.
“FUCK—oh my God—fuck, OH MY—”
Noah just laughed—low, mean, cruel. “Yeah… yeah, man… I knew it. Look at you. Fuckin’ wired straight to your tits, huh.” His fingers pinched harder—twisting, rolling, sending white-hot shocks straight down Liam’s spine like it was directly connected to his cock.
“C’mon. Keep stroking me. Don’t slack off now.” His voice was practically a purr.
It was too much. His brain couldn’t process it—couldn’t split itself in enough directions to survive it. His chest burned—nipples pinched, twisted, rolled between Noah’s fingers like live wires.
And his ass —God—his poor little asshole throbbed, stretched smooth, obscenely, around the bar still buried in him. Every twitch of his hips made it shift—just enough to drag against his walls, to press on nerves Liam didn’t even know existed. His body kept clenching around it instinctively—like it was trying to spit it out and suck it in deeper at the same time.
His fist trembled around Noah’s cock—fast, slick, heavy, leaking against his palm. His lips were barely a breath away from it.
His own cock pulsed—dribbling, throbbing, untouched. Every cell in his body lit up, scrambled, overwritten. The bar in him, the hands on his chest, the cock in his grip—it all blurred into one unbearable knot of overstimulation until Liam couldn’t even tell where one ended and the other began. He was drooling again.
Noah’s hips twitched—his cock pulsed in Liam’s hand, harder, heavier, throbbing so thick it felt like it could punch the air out of Liam’s lungs.
“…Shit,” Noah hissed, fingers digging into Liam’s chest, thumbs rolling hard against his nipples. His breath hitched—came fast, ragged, tight. “Yeah… yeah, I’m close. You’re gonna take it, little buddy. Mouth open, come on. I’m gonna cum in your fuckin’ mouth.”
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request.
And Liam—Jesus, Liam—didn’t even think. His lips parted instantly, his jaw slack, his brain firing nothing but blank submission. No hesitation. No argument. Just open. Ready.
Noah groaned—low, filthy, wrecked. His hips jerked forward—the head of his cock smeared against Liam’s lips, his tongue, the heat overwhelming—and then it hit.
Hot. Sudden. Violent.
“Open up, OPEN UP!” A sharp, violent snap in his spine as everything clenched. “Ahhh—aaaAAAHHHH—ugh— FUCK—FUCK—FUCK— FUCK—”
Noah came hard. Thick jizz splattered across Liam’s tongue—some hitting his teeth, some missing entirely, streaking his lips, his chin, even his nose. Another pulse—more heat, more mess, more wet sliding down the side of Liam’s mouth before he could even swallow.
Liam was a mess, he alternated between swallowing the cum already down his throat, spitting out some and breathing out in short little waves.
“Fuuuuuuck…” Noah dragged it out—hips twitching, his cock pulsing again, another splatter hitting Liam’s tongue, filling his mouth so much it spilled before he could even close it.
Cum was everywhere. Hot, sticky, so much. His lips were glossy with it. His hand was glistening where it smeared down the shaft. His own thighs trembled—cock still rock hard, still twitching, still untouched, drooling precum onto the floor like his body was begging for any kind of release.
But even wrecked—even now—his hand twitched instinctively. Slid back toward his own cock like his body thought, “Okay. Now me. Please now me.”
Noah’s eyes flicked down—immediately—and his palm shot out, slapping Liam’s wrist away. “Uh-uh. No, dude. Don’t even think about it.”
Liam flinched—panting, wide-eyed, brain scrambled. “??—?”
Noah sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he hadn’t just flooded Liam’s entire face with his warm teen cum. “Nah. Nuh-uh. Hands off. We’re continuing the experiment.” His grin sharpened—lazy, cocky, evil. “You’re gonna stay like this for a bit. You don’t get to cum today.”
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