The doorbell rang nonstop until I opened the door. I saw him, Dan standing on the doorstep, pissed off, sweaty, with an angry look and tousled hair. But instead of being concerned about his anger... my eyes immediately drifted down. His tight tank top was stuck to him, the fabric wet with sweat. The body underneath pulsed with tension, his shoulders, biceps, veins in his neck, everything working. He smelled like adrenaline. Like a challenge.
“They shut down my gym,” he snapped. “No warning. Apparently some fucking renovation.”
He walked in without asking, threw his bag against the wall, and wiped his forehead with his hand, wiping away the sweat. I watched his muscles tense under his skin. Sweat dripping down his arm. With every movement, his body begging to be touched.
“Seriously? From one day to the next?” I asked, trying to control my voice.
“Yeah. I'm hot and pumped up, and I have nowhere to let off steam. Fuck.”
I sighed quietly because his choice of words was disturbingly close to how I felt. But I just smiled as if it meant nothing.
“I have something better than your gym. Downstairs. Come on, I'll show you.”
He looked at me suspiciously, but followed me. As we descended the stairs, I could see out of the corner of my eye how his chest rose with each breath. How the fabric of his tank top rose and fell, revealing a bit of his stomach. Downstairs, I turned on the lights and his expression changed.
He fell silent.
“You have all this for yourself?”
“Yeah, I used to train more intensely back then.”
The equipment gleamed. Mats, dumbbells, lifts, ropes, boxes. Everything.
“Fuck, this is awesome. Seriously.” His voice echoed off the walls.
“Okay,” he finally said, with that half-smile of his. “So, shall we begin?”
“Sure,” I replied calmly, deliberately too calmly.
He pulled his tank top over his head. Slowly. As if he were doing it just for himself. His chest was tense, his stomach shiny, his skin still hot. He threw it on the mat and bent down to pick up a towel. And I couldn't take my eyes off his back. From the line of his spine. From his buttocks tight in his shorts.
We started with a warm-up. I wanted to focus. Really. But his body worked like a machine. His arms were tense, his back sculpted. When he did squats, I could see his thigh muscles trembling slightly under the weight. Sweat ran down his chest, glistening on his stomach, neck, and between his shoulder blades. His body smelled of exertion. Of masculine tension.
And I... I couldn't take my eyes off him.
At one point, he looked to the side, straight at me. He smiled lazily, without interrupting his set.
“I like it when someone watches,” he said. “It motivates me.”
I smiled back, but didn't answer. I didn't trust my own voice. My cock was already semi-hard, throbbing quietly in my shorts. And he seemed to notice. Because his gaze slid down for a split second, then returned to my eyes. He didn't say anything else. But he didn't have to.
We changed exercises. We worked in silence. But the tension between us grew like the weight on the barbell, becoming harder to ignore with every passing minute.
He dropped the dumbbells with a thud, panting heavily. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the mat. I watched his chest rise and fall in rapid rhythm. He sat down on the floor with a groan, legs spread wide, hands behind his back, head tilted back.
“That was a good workout,” he gasped. “I needed that.”
I grabbed a towel and threw it at his face. He caught it without looking, wiped his neck and shoulders, then slid down, stretching his back to its full length.
I thought that was it. That he would get up, go to the shower, crack a joke, and leave. But then he looked at me. Differently. More deeply. And he said it.
“I always have to relax after training.”
“Meaning?” I asked, frowning. But I felt like I already knew.
“Otherwise, I'm all tense.” His voice was calm. As if he were talking about stretching. Or massage.
And then he did it. He slipped his fingers behind the waistband of his shorts. And with one smooth motion, he slid them off his hips. There was nothing underneath. His cock was already hard. Heavy. Real.
I froze.
And he looked at me. Carefully. Confidently. As if nothing was happening.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “I can see you're hard too. Sit down next to me. Don't pretend.”
And that was the moment. Silence. Sweat. Eyes. Bodies. Everything ready. Everything tense like a rope about to snap.
I didn't move. Not yet. But I already knew I would do what he wanted.
I slid my shorts down without a word. My cock was already wet with precum, heavy, tense, ready. I sat down next to him on the mat, my shoulder almost touching his thigh. For a moment, we did nothing. We just breathed. Calmly. Deeply. But it was only an illusion.
Because the tension between us was screaming.
Dan reached out his hand first. His fingers wrapped around the shaft and began to move slowly, confidently. He didn't take his eyes off my cock. As if he was testing whether I dared. Whether I would follow him. So I did.
I started to move. Slowly. Consciously. My hand slid along the vein, all the way to the head. I felt saliva on my tongue, though I didn't use it. I didn't need to. It was already wet.
Not a single word was spoken. Only breaths. And rhythm.
Our bodies moved at the same pace. I felt his shoulder against mine. His tension. His trembling. His gasps, faster and faster. His cock rubbing against my thigh every now and then. As if he had forgotten what control meant.
“I've never done this with anyone,” he whispered suddenly. “But it feels strangely good.”
I looked at him. His neck was damp, his vein pulsing. His eyes were closed. His jaw was clenched.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I rubbed against his body. I moaned softly. Because it was too much. Too good.
Dan came first. His whole body trembled, he arched, let out a deep moan, and spilled all over his own stomach. Loud. Shameless. It only turned me on even more. Two strokes later I exploded too, hard, sudden, completely, with no way back.
Silence.
Only our breathing. Sweat running down our backs. Bodies that had stopped fighting what had happened.
Dan turned his head. He looked at me. There was fire in his eyes.
“You know what? I'm starting to think it was a good thing that the gym was closed.”
I smiled. Bitterly. I already knew it wasn't the end.
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