"Dude, seriously? Again?" Marc sighed, tossing his gym bag onto the bench as he rolled his shoulders. The locker room smelled like sweat and cheap disinfectant, the usual post-workout haze lingering in the air. Across from him, Ryan—six-two, built like a brick wall, and currently rubbing his lower back—shot him a sheepish grin.
"Yeah, man. Deadlifts got me today." Ryan groaned, stretching his arms overhead. The motion made his pecs flex under his tight tank top, veins tracing rivers down his biceps. Marc swallowed, forcing his eyes away. He'd been noticing those details a lot lately.
"You need a massage or something?" Marc asked, feigning nonchalance as he peeled off his own shirt. The cool air prickled against his skin.
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, I'll live. Just gotta stop ego-lifting." He paused, then smirked. "Unless you're offering?"
Heat prickled the back of Marc's neck. He'd joked around like this a hundred times—gym bros being gym bros—but lately, the line between joking and *not* joking had started to blur. Especially when Ryan's gaze lingered a second too long on his chest.
Marc's fingers twitched against the bench. The offer hung between them, thick as the humidity clinging to the shower stalls in the corner. Ryan wasn’t looking away. That was new. "Yeah, alright," Marc heard himself say, voice lower than he meant it to be. "Turn around."
Ryan’s grin widened—like he’d won something—before he obediently faced the lockers, thick hands braced against the metal. Marc stepped closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. The first press of his palms to Ryan’s shoulders drew a groan, deep and rumbling. "Shit, your hands are warm," Ryan muttered, rolling his neck. Marc could feel the heat radiating off him, the coiled power in every ridge of muscle under his fingers.
He worked his thumbs down Ryan’s spine, slow and deliberate. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—gym buddies helped each other out—but it was the first time his pulse kicked like this, loud in his ears. Ryan’s breath hitched when Marc’s hands slid lower, over the swell of his glutes. "Uh," Ryan started, then cut himself off with a rough laugh. "You’re—really going for it, huh?"
Marc swallowed. "You’re tight as hell." The words came out gravelly. Beneath his palms, Ryan’s body was a live wire, tensing and relaxing under his touch. He could feel the shift when Ryan’s breathing changed, when the air between them went from casual to charged.
Then Ryan turned around.
Ryan turned around, and suddenly Marc’s hands weren’t on his back anymore—they were pressed flat against his chest, fingers splayed over the hard planes of his pecs. Ryan’s heartbeat thudded under his palms, rapid and uneven. Neither of them moved. The locker room’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Ryan’s jawline, down the ridge of his collarbone. Marc’s mouth went dry.
"Been thinking about this," Ryan admitted, voice rough. His hands settled on Marc’s hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his shorts. The contact burned. "For a while."
Marc exhaled sharply. He could feel the heat radiating off Ryan’s body, the flex of his abs under Marc’s fingertips. Five years of shared workouts, spotting each other, casual touches that *weren’t* casual—all of it crashed into him at once. "Yeah," Marc managed. "Me too."
Ryan’s grip tightened, dragging him closer until their chests brushed. The first press of Ryan’s mouth against his was clumsy, too much teeth, but it didn’t matter. The second kiss was slower, deeper, Ryan’s tongue sliding against his like he was memorizing the taste. Marc groaned into it, hands sliding up to tangle in Ryan’s damp hair.
Then Ryan’s fingers dipped lower, skimming the front of Marc’s shorts, and Marc jerked back with a hissed breath. "Wait—"
Ryan froze, his fingers still hooked in Marc’s waistband, eyes flicking up to search his face. “Too much?”
Ryan’s gaze dropped, lingering on the tented fabric of Marc’s shorts. His fingers twitched where they still gripped the waistband—half-pulled down, revealing the jut of Marc’s hip bone—before his thumb brushed lower, tracing the thick outline straining against the material. A slow, ragged exhale escaped him. “Jesus Christ,” Ryan murmured, voice dipping into something hushed, almost reverent. “You’re packing a fucking *monster* down here.”
The sound of fabric tearing split the air—sharp, sudden, irreversible. Ryan's grip had tightened without thinking, fingers curling into the thin material of Marc's shorts, and then there was nothing but the echoing rip as seams gave way under the sheer, desperate pressure. Marc's cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the flushed head already beading precome as it bobbed against his stomach. His balls hung full beneath, swaying slightly with the abrupt release. Ryan's breath stuttered in his chest.
"Fuck," Ryan choked out, staring. His own erection strained against his sweatpants, but his attention was locked on Marc—on the obscene thickness of him, the way his cock twitched under Ryan's rapt gaze. He'd seen Marc in the showers before, casual glances that had lingered a second too long, but nothing like this. Up close, the reality of it was almost too much. The vein running along the underside looked like it had been carved there, pulsing with every heartbeat.
Marc didn't move. The torn fabric hung in tatters around his thighs, but his hands stayed where they were—tangled in Ryan's hair, gripping just shy of painful. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the tip of his cock smearing wetness across Ryan's stomach. "You—" Marc started, voice wrecked, then stopped when Ryan's fingers wrapped around him, squeezing experimentally. The groan that tore out of Marc's throat was raw, unfiltered.
Ryan's thumb swiped over the head, spreading the slickness there, and Marc's knees nearly buckled. He was hotter than Ryan expected, the skin almost feverish under his palm. The weight of him was ridiculous, thick enough that Ryan's fingers didn't quite meet when he circled his grip. He'd never— Christ, he'd never even *imagined* anything like this. The locker room's humidity clung to them both, sweat-slick and suffocating, but Ryan couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Marc was panting above him, hips stuttering forward into his fist.
Then Marc's grip tightened in Ryan's hair, tugging him down with a sharp, insistent pressure. Ryan went willingly, knees hitting the tile as Marc guided his mouth closer, the blunt head of his cock bumping against Ryan's lips. The taste of him was salt and heat, bitter and perfect. Ryan opened without thinking, tongue flattening against the underside as Marc pushed in, inch by impossible inch.
Ryan choked instantly—a wet, guttural sound that vibrated around Marc’s cock as it lodged itself halfway down his throat. His eyes watered, vision blurring as his gag reflex kicked in hard, saliva dripping down his chin. The stretch was unbearable, his jaw aching from the unnatural width, but he couldn’t pull back; Marc’s grip in his hair was ironclad, holding him in place with a quiet, desperate urgency.
“Fuck, fuck—” Marc hissed through clenched teeth, hips jerking forward instinctively before he forced himself still. The heat of Ryan’s throat was suffocating, clenching around him in uneven pulses as Ryan struggled to breathe through his nose, nostrils flaring. Precome leaked freely from Marc’s tip, pooling hot on Ryan’s tongue, the taste thick and bitter.
Ryan’s fingers scrabbled at Marc’s thighs, blunt nails digging into the muscle there, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, his other hand came up to cradle the base of Marc’s cock, fingers trembling as they traced the veined underside, like he was trying to soothe the part of him he couldn’t take. The gesture sent a jolt through Marc, his abs clenching visibly.
“You—” Marc gasped, voice wrecked, “—you look so good like this.”
Ryan’s answering groan was muffled, choked off around the intrusion, but the sound alone made Marc’s knees threaten to give out. He could feel every twitch of Ryan’s throat, every frantic swallow as he tried to adjust, and god, it was *too much*—the obscene stretch of Ryan’s lips, the way his eyelashes stuck together with tears, the helpless little noises he made when Marc’s thumb brushed over his Adam’s apple, feeling the bulge there.
Ryan's hands trembled where they gripped Marc's thighs, fingers digging into the dense muscle there as he fought to keep himself steady. His throat worked around Marc's girth, swallowing convulsively, and Marc could feel every desperate, involuntary twitch—like Ryan's body was trying to pull him deeper even as his lungs burned for air. A thin string of drool dripped from Ryan's chin onto the tile, the sound obscenely loud in the empty locker room.
Marc's hips jerked forward without meaning to, shoving another inch down Ryan's throat, and Ryan gagged violently, his whole body convulsing. Marc hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening in Ryan's hair. "Shit—sorry, sorry—" But Ryan didn't pull away. Instead, his hands slid up Marc's thighs to grip his hips, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, and he *pulled*—forcing Marc deeper, taking him in until his nose pressed flush against the wiry curls at Marc's pelvis.
The sensation was dizzying—Ryan's throat clamping around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, hot and wet and perfect. Marc's vision whited out for a second, his knees locking to keep himself upright. "Fuck, Ry—" His voice cracked. He could feel Ryan's pulse fluttering against his cock, rapid and frantic, and the sheer *wrongness* of it—of how good it felt to be this deep inside him—sent a bolt of heat straight to his gut.
Ryan's chest heaved, his face flushed dark pwith exertion, but his grip on Marc's hips didn't waver. He dragged his tongue along the underside of Marc's cock, the motion clumsy but deliberate, and Marc's breath punched out of him in a ragged groan.
Then Ryan pulled back—slowly, torturously—until just the tip remained between his lips, his tongue swirling around the head. His breath came in rough, uneven gasps, his lips swollen and slick with spit. His eyes flicked up to meet Marc's, dark and blown wide, and Marc's stomach dropped at the raw hunger there.
Ryan surged upward before Marc could react, his hands sliding from Marc’s hips to brace against the lockers behind them. His breath was ragged, lips still glistening, but his eyes burned with something sharper now—intent, deliberate. “My turn,” he muttered, voice wrecked from the abuse of Marc’s cock. Then, without warning, Ryan dropped into a deep squat, thighs spreading wide, knees flaring outward as his ass hovered just inches above the tile. The pose was effortless, gym-honed flexibility on full display—until the seams of his sweatpants gave way with a sharp *rrrip*.
The sound was almost comical. Fabric split from waistband to thigh, tearing open along the curve of Ryan’s ass like wrapping paper surrendering to gift. Marc’s throat went dry. There was no hiding the way Ryan’s hole twitched, pink and tight, framed perfectly by the wreckage of his pants. The musky scent of sweat and precome hit Marc like a punch to the gut. Ryan didn’t even flinch. He just held the position, quads flexing, his cock jutting thick and neglected between his thighs. “Well?” Ryan rasped, rocking back slightly—just enough to make his hole wink at Marc. “Gonna leave me hanging?”
Marc’s hands were on him before he’d fully processed the question. His thumbs dug into the meat of Ryan’s ass, spreading him wider, and the groan that tore out of Ryan was guttural, primal. Marc could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his rim fluttered under the barest brush of a fingertip. He’d never—*Christ*—he’d never seen anything like this. Ryan was *glowing*, sweat-slick and shameless, his body offering itself up like a fucking altar. Marc’s cock throbbed, precome dribbling onto the tile between Ryan’s splayed feet.
“You’re gonna kill me,” Marc breathed, dragging his fingers down the crease of Ryan’s ass, tracing the furl of muscle there. Ryan shuddered, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding the pose. Marc spit into his palm—crude, desperate—before pressing two fingers flat against Ryan’s entrance. The resistance was immediate, Ryan’s body clamping down instinctively, but Marc didn’t stop. He leaned in, mouth hovering just above Ryan’s ear. “Relax,” he murmured, and bit down on the tendon of Ryan’s neck at the same moment his fingers breached him.
Ryan’s shout echoed off the lockers. His back arched, ass pushing back against Marc’s hand like he was trying to take him deeper, faster. Marc curled his fingers, searching, and the choked-off whimper Ryan made when Marc grazed his prostate sent a bolt of heat straight to Marc’s groin. “There?” Marc asked, twisting his wrist to drag his fingertips over the spot again. Ryan’s hips jerked violently, his cock leaking onto the floor.
The sight of Ryan sprawled bare-assed on the locker room tiles—knees bent, thighs spread wide, hole glistening under the fluorescent lights—hit Marc like a sucker punch to the gut. He didn’t think. He *moved*. Dropping to his knees, he gripped Ryan’s hips hard enough to bruise and dragged him closer until his face was inches from that twitching pink rim. The musky scent of sweat and something darker, hotter, flooded his senses.
Ryan gasped when Marc’s tongue first made contact—a flat, wet stripe from taint to tailbone that left his hole clenching around nothing. “Fuck—” Ryan’s fingers scrabbled against the tile, his cock jerking against his stomach. Marc didn’t let him recover. He dove back in, tongue spearing past the tight ring of muscle with a filthy, wet sound. Ryan’s hips bucked, his thighs trembling as Marc worked him open, licking into him like a man starved.
The taste was intoxicating—salt and heat and something uniquely *Ryan*—and Marc groaned against him, his own cock throbbing where it strained against his ruined shorts. He curled his tongue, probing deeper, and Ryan’s back arched off the floor with a broken cry. “Jesus—*Marc*—” His voice cracked, hands fisting in Marc’s hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. Marc barely noticed. He was too focused on the way Ryan’s body yielded under his mouth, the tight furl of muscle gradually relaxing under the relentless press of his tongue.
Ryan’s thighs shook, his breath coming in ragged pants as Marc worked him over—broad, wet strokes interspersed with sharp little flicks to his rim that had Ryan cursing, his cock leaking onto his stomach. Marc pulled back just long enough to spit directly onto Ryan’s hole, watching the saliva drip down his perineum before licking it clean, his nose brushing against Ryan’s balls. The groan Ryan let out was guttural, his hips canting upward, silently begging for more.
Marc gave it to him. He pressed his mouth flush against Ryan’s ass, sucking at the puffy rim until Ryan was writhing beneath him, his hole fluttering around nothing. Then—just as Ryan’s breathing hitched—Marc shoved his tongue back inside, fucking him with it in shallow, relentless thrusts. Ryan’s thighs clamped around Marc’s head, his heels digging into Marc’s back as he came untouched, ropes of cum striping his chest and stomach, his hole spasming around Marc’s tongue.
Marc pulled back just enough to watch Ryan’s hole flutter—pink, swollen, glistening with spit. The sight sent a jolt of possessive heat straight to his gut. This wasn’t just fucking anymore. This was *claiming*. He wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other spreading Ryan’s ass wider, thumb pressing against the twitching rim. “Look at you,” Marc growled, voice rough. “Already fucking begging for it.”
Ryan’s breath hitched, his hips canting upward in silent plea. The tip of Marc’s cock—thick as a soda can, flushed dark with need—pressed against Ryan’s entrance, the sheer girth making Ryan’s hole clench instinctively. Marc didn’t ease up. He leaned forward, his free hand gripping Ryan’s hip hard enough to bruise, and *pushed*.
Ryan’s back arched off the tile with a choked cry, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick floor. The stretch was brutal—Marc’s cockhead alone was enough to make Ryan’s rim burn, the muscle straining to accommodate the intrusion. Marc hissed through his teeth, the tight, searing heat almost too much. “Fuck,” he muttered, rolling his hips forward another inch. Ryan’s body resisted, clamping down like a vice, but Marc didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not when Ryan was gasping beneath him, his thighs shaking, his cock drooling onto his stomach.
“Relax,” Marc ordered, his voice low and rough. He dragged his thumb over Ryan’s perineum, pressing hard, and felt the moment Ryan’s body yielded—just sliightly. Being so well endowed Marc was only able to push half of his bulbous head in. Marc knew this was going to take some time to get his prize.
Marc exhaled sharply through his nose, watching Ryan's hole flutter around just the tip of his cock like it was already overwhelmed. The sight sent a primal thrill through him—this wasn't just sex anymore. This was *conquest*. Ryan's body trembled beneath him, sweat-slick and spread wide, his asshole twitching like it was trying to decide whether to spit Marc out or suck him deeper. Marc knew which one it would be by the time he was done.
"Easy," Marc murmured, pressing his thumb against Ryan's perineum again, massaging in firm circles. Ryan gasped, his rim spasming—and that was all the opening Marc needed. He rocked his hips forward in one slow, inexorable push, his cockhead breaching Ryan's resisting muscle with a filthy, wet *pop*. Ryan's back arched off the tile, a punched-out groan tearing from his throat as Marc's girth stretched him obscenely wide.
"Fuck—*fuck*—" Ryan panted, his fingers scrambling against the floor. His hole was clamped vice-tight around the first few inches of Marc's cock, the stretch visibly straining his rim. Marc could feel every twitch, every flutter of Ryan's insides as his body struggled to adjust. It was intoxicating.
Marc didn't give him time to recover. He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Ryan's head, the other gripping Ryan's hip hard enough to leave marks. Then he *pushed*—another inch, then another, the drag of his cock against Ryan's walls almost unbearable. Ryan's breath hitched, his thighs shaking where they were splayed wide.
"Look at you," Marc growled, his voice rough with want. He dragged his thumb over Ryan's stretched rim, feeling the way it clung to his cock. "Taking me so fucking good." Ryan's answering moan was ragged, his hole clenching rhythmically around Marc's girth like it was trying to milk him already.
Marc felt it the moment his cockhead nudged against something unexpected—a thin, yielding barrier deeper inside Ryan than he'd ever reached before. His breath caught. Ryan had never been taken like this. *No one* had ever taken him this deep. A slow, predatory grin spread across Marc’s face as he dragged his hips back just enough to feel Ryan’s rim cling to him, desperate.
"Fuck, Ry," Marc murmured, rolling his hips forward in a slow, deliberate grind. Ryan shuddered beneath him, his hole fluttering around Marc’s girth. "You’ve got a *second* hole back here." His thumb pressed against Ryan’s perineum, massaging the taut skin there as he pushed in another inch—just enough to make Ryan’s breath hitch. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else after this."
Ryan’s reply was a broken moan, his fingers scrabbling against the tile as Marc’s cockhead pressed insistently against that untouched inner ring. The resistance was subtle but undeniable—a thin membrane stretched tight, quivering under Marc’s relentless pressure. Marc exhaled sharply, forcing himself to go slow. He rocked forward in shallow, teasing thrusts, each one coaxing Ryan’s body to yield a fraction more.
Precome dripped from Ryan’s cock onto his stomach, his thighs trembling with the effort of staying spread. "M-Mar—" he gasped, his voice wrecked. Marc didn’t answer. He was too focused on the way Ryan’s insides pulsed around him, the way that *barrier* fluttered like a heartbeat under his relentless attention.
Then—*pop*.
The sound—wet, obscene—echoed off the locker room walls as Ryan's inner ring gave way. His entire body convulsed beneath Marc, a ragged scream tearing from his throat as Marc’s cockhead breached that untouched depth. The heat was suffocating, Ryan’s inner walls clamping down in frantic pulses around the intrusion like they were trying to push Marc out even as his hips dragged him deeper. Marc froze, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
"Fuck—fuck—" Ryan choked out, his fingers clawing at the tile, his thighs shaking violently. His rim was stretched impossibly wide around Marc’s girth, the skin flushed dark with strain. Marc could *feel* every twitch, every involuntary clench of Ryan’s body trying to adjust. It was dizzying.
Marc dragged his hips back slightly—just enough to make Ryan’s hole cling to him—before rocking forward again, forcing another inch past that tight inner ring. Ryan’s back arched off the floor, his cock jerking against his stomach, untouched and leaking. "M-Mar—*shit*—" His voice cracked, raw and broken. Marc didn’t let up. He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Ryan’s head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise, and *pushed*.
Ryan’s body yielded slowly, the resistance giving way under Marc’s relentless pressure until he was buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against Ryan’s ass. The sensation was overwhelming—Ryan’s insides molten hot and clenching around him in erratic spasms, his breath coming in sharp, ragged pants. Marc groaned, low and guttural, his forehead dropping to Ryan’s shoulder.
"You feel that?" Marc murmured, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. Ryan’s answering whimper was muffled against his own arm, his hole fluttering around Marc’s cock. "That’s *me*—all the way inside you." He dragged his tongue over the sweat-slick curve of Ryan’s shoulder, biting down just hard enough to make Ryan jerk beneath him. "No one’s ever had you like this."
Ryan's body arched off the tiles like a bowstring drawn taut, his scream dissolving into breathless gasps as Marc's cock pulsed inside him—deep, *too* deep, carving out a space that hadn't existed before. The stretch was obscene, Ryan's rim glistening and stretched wide around Marc's base, but deeper still, where Marc's cockhead had breached that final ring, the heat was different. *Softer*. Like Marc wasn't just fucking him, but *reshaping* him.
"Jesus—*Christ*—" Ryan choked out, his fingers scrabbling against the tile as Marc rocked into him, each thrust grinding against that newly opened depth. The sensation was dizzying—less like being penetrated and more like being *unmade*, Marc's cockhead nudging against something raw and untouched with every slow roll of his hips. Ryan's thighs trembled, his cock twitching against his stomach, untouched and leaking. He couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure anymore—only that he couldn't stop.
Marc's breath was ragged against Ryan's shoulder, his grip bruising on Ryan's hip. "Feel that?" he growled, dragging his hips back just enough to make Ryan's body cling to him before slamming home again. Ryan sobbed, his hole fluttering around Marc's girth, the wet *slap* of skin echoing off the lockers. "That's *mine* now." His thumb pressed against Ryan's perineum, rubbing firm circles over the swollen skin there, and Ryan's vision whited out for a second.
It was too much. Ryan's insides pulsed around Marc's cock, clenching in erratic spasms as his body struggled to adjust to the intrusion—to the way Marc's cockhead *fit* inside that new, molten-hot space like it had been made for him. The stretch burned, but the friction—*god*, the friction—sent sparks up Ryan's spine every time Marc bottomed out. His thighs shook, his abs clenching visibly as Marc's thrusts grew more insistent, more *possessive*.
Then Marc shifted—just slightly—angling his hips upward, and Ryan's back arched off the floor with a broken cry. "There?" Marc murmured, grinding deep, and Ryan could only nod frantically, his fingers clawing at Marc's forearm. The pressure was *bliss*, Marc's cockhead rubbing against something inside him that made his toes curl, his vision swimming. Marc's grin was feral. "Knew you'd like that."
Ryan’s scream tore through the locker room, raw and shattered, as his cock pulsed untouched between them—another orgasm ripped from him just from the brutal drag of Marc’s cock against that *spot* deep inside him. Cum streaked across his stomach, thick ropes spattering his chest, his thighs trembling violently where they were splayed wide. Marc didn’t let up. He *couldn’t*. The sight of Ryan coming undone beneath him, wrecked and dripping, sent a bolt of white-hot need straight to his gut.
Then Ryan’s body *clenched*—a vice-tight spasm around Marc’s cock that pulled a ragged groan from his throat. It was too much. The heat, the friction, the way Ryan’s insides fluttered around him like they were trying to milk him dry—Marc’s vision whited out as his hips stuttered forward, burying himself to the hilt one last time before—
*Release.*
The first pulse was a revelation—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding Ryan’s guts with a force that made his stomach *distend*, rounding slightly under the sudden influx. Marc gasped, his fingers digging into Ryan’s hips hard enough to leave bruises as his cock twitched violently inside him, unloading in deep, relentless spurts. Ryan’s breath hitched, his hole fluttering around Marc’s girth as if trying to coax out every last drop.
It didn’t stop. Marc’s orgasm rolled through him in waves, each one more intense than the last, his balls drawing up tight as he filled Ryan beyond capacity. Cum spilled around his cock where it was buried deep, leaking out in thick rivulets down Ryan’s thighs, but most of it stayed *in*—Ryan’s body greedily swallowing every pulse, his stomach swelling visibly under the sheer volume.
Marc's hips jerked forward one last time, pressing Ryan flush against the tile as his cock twitched deep inside him. A shudder ran through Marc's body—not just from the orgasm, but from the *pull* he felt deep in his gut. It was faint at first, like a slow siphon starting, then *blooming*—a sudden rush of warmth spreading from Ryan's body into his own.
Ryan gasped beneath him, his back arching sharply as his muscles visibly *diminished*. Just slightly. Almost imperceptibly. The ridges of his abs softened just a fraction, the thick cords of his biceps losing a subtle definition. Meanwhile, Marc *swelled*—his chest broadening, his shoulders filling out, his biceps tightening under his skin as the stolen strength settled into him.
"Fuck," Marc groaned, rolling his shoulders as the transfer completed. He could *feel* it—the extra power humming under his skin, the way his muscles tightened with new density. He flexed his arms, watching the way his veins stood out just a little more prominently, the way his pecs cast sharper shadows under the locker room lights.
Ryan blinked up at him, dazed. His breath was still ragged, his thighs trembling where they were spread wide around Marc's hips. "Did you just—" He swallowed, his voice hoarse. "Did you just get *bigger*?"
Marc grinned, slow and predatory. He dragged a hand down his own chest, savoring the new hardness there. "And you just got *smaller*." His thumb brushed over Ryan's hipbone—where it jutted out just a fraction more than before. "Five percent, give or take."
Ryan's fingers twitched against the tile, his breath still uneven. His thighs felt boneless, spread obscenely wide around Marc’s hips—but his eyes locked onto Marc’s biceps, watching the way they flexed with even the slightest movement. "That’s... not possible," he rasped, voice wrecked. His own arms felt lighter somehow, like the dense muscle had been siphoned away.
Marc laughed—a low, satisfied sound—and rolled his hips forward, still buried deep inside Ryan. The movement made Ryan gasp, his overstimulated hole fluttering around Marc’s softening cock. "Possible," Marc murmured, dragging his palms up Ryan’s sides, tracing the newly softened contours of his waist. "And fucking *perfect*." He leaned down, catching Ryan’s bottom lip between his teeth. "You look good like this. A little softer. A little *mine*."
Ryan shivered, his cock twitching weakly against his stomach. He should’ve been spent—should’ve been *done*—but the possessive glint in Marc’s eyes sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to his gut. "You’re insane," Ryan breathed, but he arched into Marc’s touch anyway, his body still thrumming with oversensitivity.
Marc’s grin widened. He pulled out slowly, watching Ryan’s hole gape around nothing, thick streaks of cum already leaking onto the tile. Ryan hissed at the loss, his rim twitching, but Marc didn’t let him recover. He hauled Ryan upright with effortless strength—*new* strength—pinning him against the lockers with one hand while the other traced the faint outline of Ryan’s abs, now less defined. "Five percent," Marc mused, thumbing over Ryan’s nipple. "Just enough to feel it."
Ryan’s breath hitched. His body felt different—lighter, yes, but also *weaker*, like his muscles had been hollowed out just slightly. Meanwhile, Marc’s presence seemed to fill the space around them, his shoulders broader, his chest thicker. The difference was subtle but undeniable. Ryan swallowed hard. "How—"
Ryan’s question died on his lips as Marc’s hand slid down to grip his softening cock, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke. The touch sent a jolt through Ryan—his body was oversensitive, wrung out, but the way Marc *looked* at him—hungry, possessive—made his pulse stutter.
"You feel it, don’t you?" Marc murmured, his thumb swiping over Ryan’s slit, smearing the last drops of cum there. His other hand splayed across Ryan’s stomach, pressing just hard enough to make Ryan whimper. "That hollow feeling. Like something’s missing." His grin was all teeth. "That’s *me* now."
Ryan’s breath shuddered out. He *did* feel it—a strange lightness in his limbs, a faint ache in his muscles like he’d just finished an extra set. Meanwhile, Marc loomed over him, his biceps flexing as he pinned Ryan against the lockers, his chest broader, his shoulders more defined. The difference was subtle but undeniable.
Marc leaned in, his mouth brushing Ryan’s ear. "Bet you could barely lift half your max right now," he mused, voice low and teasing. Ryan’s stomach twisted—part indignation, part *heat*—because Marc was right. The thought should’ve pissed him off. Instead, his cock twitched weakly in Marc’s grip.
Marc laughed, dark and satisfied, and pressed closer. "Don’t worry," he murmured, dragging his lips down Ryan’s neck. "I’ll take good care of you." His hand slid lower, cupping Ryan’s ass, fingers tracing the sticky, stretched-out rim. Ryan shivered, his legs trembling. "And next time," Marc added, biting Ryan’s shoulder, "I’ll take a little more."
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