The First Words
Wednesday morning felt thicker somehow, the Vienna sky still dark when Patrick keyed into the gym at 6:30. The air already carried a faint trace of warmth from the previous day’s work on the new AC units, but the real heat was the one simmering under his skin. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Mike’s rough hand wrapped around his cock, the dark hair on those thick forearms, the way Mike’s green eyes had gone glassy while he stroked him off. Patrick had jerked himself twice in his apartment last night just to take the edge off, but it had only made the ache worse. He wanted more. He wanted to feel that hairy body against his smooth one, wanted to taste the sweat on Mike’s neck, wanted to hear the shy handyman actually moan out loud instead of typing everything.
He changed in the empty locker room, peeling off his hoodie and stepping into his usual white tank top and black compression shorts. The fabric felt tighter today, or maybe it was just the way his cock was already half-hard from anticipation. He adjusted himself so the thick outline showed clearly, then headed out to the floor. The mirrors reflected back every cut line of his hairless chest and abs as he started his shoulder presses. The pump came fast, blood rushing to his muscles, making his skin glow under the lights. By 6:55 he was again deep into pull-ups, body rising and falling in perfect rhythm, when the front door chimed.
Mike walked in carrying his toolbox and a couple of new vent covers. Same dark-blue work trousers hugging his thick thighs and solid ass, same short-sleeved polo stretched across his broad, hairy chest. Patrick watched in the mirror as Mike gave the quickest nod, almost professional, and went straight to the back wall. But this time Mike’s eyes flicked toward Patrick for a beat longer than yesterday. Patrick’s stomach tightened. He dropped from the bar, grabbed his phone, and opened SPARKR. The profile was right there, green dot bright.
Morning, Mike. Still thinking about your hand on me yesterday. Locker room in ten. I’ll be naked and waiting. Take your time if you need to, but I want to feel that hairy body against mine today.
He sent it, then kept lifting, moving to the squat rack and loading the bar heavy. Every rep made his quads burn and his cock throb against the tight shorts. Ten minutes later his phone buzzed on the bench.
Mike’s reply was short, but it was there.
Okay. But still at work. Go slow like we said. I’ll come when I can.
Patrick grinned, finished his set, and walked straight to the locker room without looking back. The small space smelled faintly of the lemon cleaner the cleaning crew used at night. He stripped slowly, enjoying the cool air on his overheated skin. Tank top off first, revealing the smooth, pumped expanse of his chest and the tight ridges of his abs. Shorts next, sliding down his muscular legs until he stood completely naked, cock already thick and heavy, pointing upward in a smooth arc. He ran a hand down his own body, fingers tracing the hairless trail from sternum to navel, then lower, cupping his balls. They were full and smooth, drawn up tight with want.
He heard the door open behind him a minute later. Mike stepped inside, phone still in his hand, cheeks already flushed. He closed the door quietly and leaned against it for a second, eyes dragging over Patrick’s naked form like he was memorizing every inch. Patrick turned to face him fully, letting Mike look his fill at the smooth chest, the cut V of his hips, the way his cock twitched under the attention.
“Morning,” Patrick said softly, voice low and warm. “You can touch again. Anywhere you want this time.”
Mike swallowed hard. He set his phone on the bench and stepped closer, work boots heavy on the tiles. His rough hands came up, hesitating for only a heartbeat before they settled on Patrick’s pecs, thumbs brushing over the tight nipples. Patrick exhaled sharply at the contact, the contrast of calloused palms on his smooth skin sending sparks straight to his cock. Mike’s fingers explored slowly, tracing the deep lines of muscle, sliding down over the abs that flexed under his touch. When one hand finally wrapped around Patrick’s cock again, the grip was firmer than yesterday, more sure.
“Fuck, you’re so smooth everywhere,” Mike murmured, the first actual words Patrick had heard from him beyond typing. His voice was deeper than expected, a little rough around the edges. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Patrick’s hips pushed forward into the stroke, slow and deliberate. “Then don’t stop. Feel how hard you make me just standing there in your work gear.”
Mike’s free hand slid around to Patrick’s ass, squeezing one smooth cheek, fingers digging in. His breathing had gone ragged. Patrick could see the thick bulge straining the front of the dark-blue trousers, the fabric tented obscenely. Dark hair curled at Mike’s collar again, thicker today because the top button was undone. Patrick reached up and brushed two fingers along that furry neck, then lower, slipping them inside the polo to feel the dense hair covering Mike’s chest. Mike shuddered at the touch, a low sound escaping his throat.
Patrick leaned in, lips brushing Mike’s ear. “Shirt off. Just for a minute. I want to see what I’ve been fantasizing about.”
Mike hesitated, green eyes flicking toward the door like he was listening for footsteps that weren’t there. Then he nodded once and pulled the polo over his head in one quick motion. The sight hit Patrick like a punch. Mike’s chest was broad and powerful, covered in a thick mat of dark hair that swirled around his pecs and trailed down in a heavy line over his abs. The hair was dense, almost black against tanned skin, curling around small brown nipples that were already tight. Patrick’s mouth watered. He had always envied guys like this, the raw masculinity of all that hair against his own smooth body.
“Ouuff” Patrick breathed, stepping closer until their chests brushed. The contrast was electric: smooth muscle against furry heat. He ran both hands over Mike’s chest, fingers threading through the hair, thumbs circling the nipples. Mike groaned quietly, head tipping back. Patrick leaned in and dragged his tongue across one nipple, tasting salt and skin and the faint scent of Mike’s woody aftershave mixed with clean sweat. Mike’s hand tightened on Patrick’s cock, stroking faster now.
They stayed like that for long minutes, Patrick exploring every inch of that hairy torso with his mouth and hands while Mike jerked him in steady, perfect strokes. Pre-come leaked steadily from Patrick’s cock, slicking Mike’s fingers. Patrick could feel the heat building, but he wanted more. He wanted to push the shy handyman further.
“Shower,” Patrick whispered against Mike’s collarbone, lips brushing the thick hair there. “Come with me. I want to get you wet.”
Mike’s eyes widened, but he did not pull away. He kicked off his boots and socks, then unbuckled his belt with shaky hands. The work trousers dropped, revealing thick, muscular legs covered in the same dark hair, and a pair of plain grey boxer briefs stretched tight over a very hard, very thick cock. A dark wet spot had already soaked through the front. Patrick hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged them down slowly, letting Mike’s cock spring free. It was thicker than his own, heavy and uncut, the head already glistening, nestled in a thick bush of pubic hair that matched the rest of him. Patrick’s mouth went dry at the sight.
“Fuck, look at you,” Patrick said, voice husky. “So hairy everywhere. Exactly what I want.”
They stepped into the open shower area together, the tiles cool under their bare feet. Patrick turned on the water, hot and strong, and pulled Mike under the spray with him. Water cascaded over both of them, soaking Mike’s thick body hair until it lay dark and plastered against his skin. Patrick dropped to his knees right there on the wet tiles, water pounding his shoulders, and took Mike’s cock into his mouth in one slow, wet slide. Mike’s hands flew to Patrick’s short blond hair, gripping tight but not pushing. A broken groan tore out of him.
Patrick sucked him deep, tongue swirling around the thick head, tasting the salty pre-come while his hands roamed over Mike’s hairy thighs and up to his furry ass. He bobbed slowly, taking more each time, until his nose pressed into the wet pubic hair and he could feel the heavy balls against his chin. Mike’s hips jerked forward in tiny, helpless thrusts, like he was fighting not to fuck Patrick’s face too hard.
“Shit… Patrick… that feels…” Mike’s words dissolved into another groan as Patrick pulled off just long enough to turn him around, pressing Mike’s hands against the shower wall.
Patrick spread those hairy cheeks and buried his face between them without hesitation. His tongue licked over the tight, furry hole, tasting clean sweat and skin. Mike’s whole body jolted, a loud moan escaping before he could bite it back. Patrick rimmed him thoroughly, tongue pushing inside, one hand reaching around to stroke Mike’s cock in time with every lick. The water ran down Mike’s back, over the dense hair, dripping from his balls onto Patrick’s hand. Mike was shaking, thighs trembling, pushing back against Patrick’s mouth like he had never felt anything so good.
Patrick stood up after a few minutes, spinning Mike around again and kissing him for the first time. It was messy and hungry, tongues sliding together under the spray. Their cocks rubbed against each other, smooth against hairy, hard lengths sliding in the slick heat. Patrick wrapped a hand around both of them, jerking them together while they kissed, water pouring over their joined bodies.
Mike came first, sudden and hard, heavy load of cum shooting across Patrick’s smooth abs and chest, mixing with the water. The sight pushed Patrick over the edge seconds later. He groaned into Mike’s mouth as he came, painting the handyman’s furry stomach with his own release. They stayed pressed together, breathing hard, foreheads touching while the shower washed them clean.
For a long moment neither of them spoke. Mike’s hands were still on Patrick’s waist, thumbs stroking the smooth skin there like he could not stop touching. Finally Mike pulled back just enough to look at him, green eyes dark and uncertain but brighter than before.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, voice rough from the moans he had tried to hold back.
Patrick smiled, slow and full of promise, and nodded. “Tomorrow. I want even more. And I want you to let go a little more too.”
Mike swallowed, then leaned in and kissed him again, softer this time, almost shy. When they finally stepped out of the shower and dried off, Mike dressed quickly, pulling the work gear back on over his still-flushed, hairy body. Patrick stayed naked a moment longer, watching him.
Mike paused at the door, phone in hand, and typed something fast before showing the screen.
I’m starting to like this more than I thought I would. See you tomorrow.
Then he slipped out, leaving Patrick alone in the locker room with the sound of the shower still running and the taste of Mike’s skin still on his tongue.
Patrick dressed slowly, finished the rest of his workout in a haze of satisfied heat, and left the gym at 8:05 feeling the slow burn turn into something brighter, something that promised to get a lot hotter before the week was over.
… To be continued
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