The Scent of Work
Friday morning the gym felt charged, like the air itself was holding its breath. Patrick keyed in at 6:30 on the dot, the quiet click of the glass door echoing in the empty space. His body still carried the memory of yesterday’s shower, Mike’s thick thighs clamped tight around his cock, the way the handyman had moaned openly while Patrick fingered him open under the hot spray. Patrick had jerked off three times last night, each time imagining sinking all the way inside that hairy, muscular body, and each time the fantasy had left him harder and hungrier than before. Today he was done waiting. Today he wanted everything.
He changed in the locker room with deliberate slowness, the white tank top stretching across his smooth, defined chest, the black compression shorts hugging his powerful thighs and the heavy, half-hard outline of his cock. He adjusted himself so the head sat snug against the fabric, visible and tempting, then stepped onto the main floor. The mirrors threw back every ridge of his hairless torso as he started his shoulder presses, dumbbells rising and falling while sweat began to slick his skin. The pump hit fast and deep, making his abs stand out in sharp relief and his nipples tighten into hard points. By 6:55 he was into heavy squats, quads burning, cock now fully hard and pressing insistently against the thin material, when the front door chimed.
Mike walked in carrying his usual toolbox and a stack of final vent grilles. The dark-blue work trousers clung to his thick legs like they had been painted on, the short-sleeved polo stretched tight over the broad, hairy chest Patrick now knew so well. Their eyes met instantly across the gym. Mike’s green gaze dropped straight to the obvious bulge in Patrick’s shorts before flicking back up. The flush on Mike’s neck was already there, darker than yesterday. Patrick dropped the bar, grabbed his phone, and typed without breaking eye contact in the mirror.
Locker room. Right now. Door locked. I want to fuck you today, Mike. Slow and deep. I want to feel how tight you are around me while you’re still wearing that work gear at first.
He sent it and went back to his last few reps, letting the tension coil tighter. His phone buzzed almost immediately.
Fuck. Yes. Give me three minutes. I’ve been thinking about this all night. I’m ready.
Patrick’s cock throbbed at the words. He finished his set, walked straight to the locker room, and left the door ajar. Inside he stripped completely, standing naked under the lights with his smooth, muscular body on full display. His cock stood rigid, thick and flushed, a bead of pre-come already glistening at the tip. He stroked himself once, slowly, spreading the slickness while he waited.
The door clicked shut and locked behind Mike. The handyman set his phone on the bench, eyes dark and hungry as they raked over Patrick’s naked form. Mike’s breathing was already rough.
“Keep the polo on for now,” Patrick said, voice low and commanding. “I love the smell of your workgear while I’m inside you.”
Mike nodded, cheeks burning, and kicked off his boots and socks. He unbuckled the work trousers but left them on, zipper open, the thick bulge of his cock straining against grey boxer briefs. Patrick stepped close, hooked his fingers in the waistband, and shoved everything down to Mike’s knees in one motion. Mike’s heavy, uncut cock sprang free, already leaking, nestled in the dense dark pubic hair that matched the thick pelt across his chest.
Patrick pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues sliding hot and urgent, while his hands roamed over the furry expanse of Mike’s torso. He tweaked the hard nipples hidden under the hair, then slid lower, wrapping a fist around both their cocks and stroking them together. Mike groaned into his mouth, hips rocking forward.
“Shower first,” Patrick murmured against his lips. “I want you wet and open for me.”
They moved under the hot spray together. Water cascaded over Mike’s body, plastering the thick hair to his skin in dark, glossy strands. Patrick dropped to his knees immediately and swallowed Mike’s cock to the root, nose buried in the wet bush, throat working around the thick head. Mike’s hands tangled in Patrick’s short blond hair, hips jerking in shallow thrusts while he moaned openly, no longer trying to stay quiet.
Patrick pulled off with a wet pop, spun Mike around, and buried his face between the hairy cheeks again. His tongue licked broad and slow over the tight hole, tasting clean skin and the faint musk of arousal. Mike pushed back hard, a deep groan tearing from his chest.
“More,” Mike gasped, voice hoarse. “Please… fingers again.”
Patrick smiled against the wet skin and slid two fingers inside, scissoring gently while his tongue continued to work the rim. Mike’s thighs trembled. Patrick added a third finger, curling them just right until Mike’s legs shook and his cock leaked steadily onto the tiles.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Patrick growled, standing up and pressing his own cock between Mike’s cheeks. “Gonna fill you up now. Tell me if it’s too much.”
Mike braced his hands on the shower wall, back arched, water streaming down his furry spine. “Do it. I want it. I’ve been thinking about your cock inside me since yesterday.”
Patrick slicked himself with shower gel, lined up, and pushed the head in slowly. Mike’s hole stretched around him, hot and velvet-tight, the ring of muscle gripping like a fist. Patrick groaned at the sensation, inching deeper, one hand on Mike’s hip and the other reaching around to stroke the thick, hairy cock.
“Fuck… you feel incredible,” Patrick breathed, bottoming out with a slow roll of his hips. Their bodies pressed flush, smooth chest against Mike’s broad, hairy back, Patrick’s balls nestled against the furry ass.
Mike let out a long, broken moan, head dropping forward under the spray. “Move… please… I can take it.”
Patrick started thrusting, slow and deep at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with the sound of the shower and Mike’s increasingly loud groans. Patrick picked up the pace, snapping his hips harder, one hand braced on Mike’s shoulder for leverage while the other jerked him in time.
“You like getting fucked while you are supposed to work?” Patrick asked, voice rough. “Pretending to be a proper handyman while I’m balls-deep in your hairy ass?”
“Yes,” Mike panted, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Harder… fuck me like you mean it.”
Patrick gave it to him, pounding deep and steady, the angle perfect to hit Mike’s prostate on every stroke. Mike’s moans turned into desperate, wordless sounds, his thick cock pulsing in Patrick’s fist. The contrast was everything Patrick had fantasized about: his smooth, sculpted body driving into the hairy, muscular handyman, water streaming over them both.
Mike came first, sudden and intense, cum shooting across the shower wall while his hole clenched rhythmically around Patrick’s cock. The tight, pulsing heat sent Patrick over the edge seconds later. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding Mike’s insides with pulse after pulse of hot come, hips grinding deep as he rode it out.
They stayed again locked together under the water for a long minute, breathing ragged, Patrick’s forehead pressed to the back of Mike’s neck. When Patrick finally pulled out, a trickle of his cum leaked from Mike’s hole and ran down the furry thigh. The sight made Patrick’s spent cock twitch again. He went down on him and licked it off.
They rinsed off slowly, hands still roaming, exchanging lazy kisses under the spray. Mike turned to face him, green eyes softer now, the shyness still there but mixed with something new, something braver.
“I’ve never let anyone top me before,” Mike admitted quietly, voice barely audible over the water. “Not really. I always told myself it was just one-night stuff with strangers because… I don’t know, it felt safer. But this week… with you… I’m starting to want more than that. I like how I feel when you take control. I like being the one who gets fucked and still feels strong.”
Patrick smiled, cupping Mike’s furry cheek. “You are strong. And you’re sexy as hell when you let go. No labels, no pressure. Just us figuring out what feels good. That’s sex positive, right? Taking what you want without shame.”
Mike nodded, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Yeah. I think I’m starting to get that.”
They dried off and dressed in comfortable silence. Mike pulled his work trousers back up, the polo clinging slightly to his damp chest hair. At the door he paused, green eyes meeting Patrick’s.
“Tomorrow’s the last day of the install,” he said. “After that the AC’s done and I’m gone. But… I don’t want this to be over. Maybe we could… keep seeing each other? Not just here.”
Patrick’s chest tightened with something warm and unexpected. “I’d like that. A lot. Tomorrow we go even further. And after that… we’ll see where it takes us.”
Mike leaned in for one last quick kiss, then slipped out. Patrick finished his workout in a glow of satisfaction and anticipation, body humming. When he left the gym at 8:05 the first regulars were filtering in, but Mike glanced over from the ladder with a look that said tomorrow would be the hottest yet.
Patrick checked SPARKR outside in the cool morning air. One new message waited.
I can still feel you inside me. Tomorrow I want you to come in my mouth after you fuck me. And I want to stay longer. Make it count.
… To be continued
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
