The clang of plates, the grunts, the reek of metal and sweat—it all hit Joey different now. He stepped through the door like he was stepping into heat. Not physical heat—something under the skin. Something tighter.
Justin was already there, bent over a barbell, setting up for Romanian deadlifts. His tank top rode up as he stretched, exposing the deep groove of his lower back, the hard swell of his glutes flexing under short, tight gym shorts. Joey’s breath caught before he could control it.
It wasn’t new, this sight. But the way it landed was new. That was fucking seismic.
Joey made a beeline to the dumbbells, kept his head down, heart already beating too fast. He couldn’t stop tracking him. The bounce of Justin’s pecs as he walked across the floor. The lazy sway in his hips. The way he looked in compression shorts that clung to him like second skin.
You want him to be your girl.
Adam’s voice echoed, low and calm, and true. Joey had tried to shake it. But that was like trying to stop the sun from rising.
Justin caught his eye in the mirror. “Yo, king,” he called out, voice bright. “You dying already?”
Joey forced a smirk. “Just pacing myself, princess.”
Justin laughed, wiped sweat from his jaw. “Gotta make it last, huh?”
Joey grunted. Turned back to his set. His shorts felt too tight.
He moved through his routine like a man on autopilot. Everything was in its place: his grip, his form, his breathing. But his brain was chaos. Every time Justin bent down. Every time he stretched. Every time he caught his own reflection, chest high, hips narrow, ass round and high—it was like watching a girl in a boy’s body. Like seeing something no one else saw.
And he couldn’t fucking look away.
Between sets, Justin dropped beside him on the bench, tossed him a shaker bottle. “Looking good, king.”
Joey froze. Justin didn’t even seem to clock the word, just smirked and drank deep. His throat bobbed, sweat running down the side of his neck, collarbone sharp and glistening.
Joey took the bottle, sipped, then said quietly, “You trying to mess with me?”
Justin leaned back, arms spread across the bench, pecs rising with his breath. “You feeling messy?”
Joey didn’t answer. His cock already had. Pressed thick and obvious against the seam of his shorts, aching from nothing but the shape of Justin’s smirk.
“I gotta hit the sauna,” he said suddenly, standing too fast. “You coming?”
Justin shrugged, grabbing his towel. “Lead the way.”
The sauna was nearly empty. Just one old guy half-asleep in the corner and a younger dude wrapping up his stretch. Joey didn’t speak. Just stripped off his shirt, grabbed the handle, and stepped inside.
Wood groaned under him as he settled on the middle bench. The air was thick, humid, heavy with eucalyptus and heat. Sweat started beading at his temples instantly, rolling down his chest. He let his arms drape over his knees, head bowed like he was in prayer.
A minute later, the door opened again.
Justin stepped in, towel slung low on his hips. His skin already glistened from the gym, pecs heaving slightly, abs cut deep. He flopped onto the upper bench above Joey, one leg stretched out, the other bent up. The position opened him wide. His towel rode high. His thighs glistened.
“You good?” he asked.
Joey didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
Justin leaned back, running a hand over his chest. “You’re not acting fine.”
Joey swallowed. His voice came out low, tight. “Yeah?”
“You’ve been lookin’ at me different.” Justin stretched his arms behind his head, pushing his chest out without trying. “Like you see something you didn’t before.”
Joey lifted his head. His eyes dragged up Justin’s body—slow, unapologetic.
“I do.”
Justin blinked. Something flickered across his face—surprise, interest, challenge. “Oh yeah?”
Joey stood. Walked up the few steps, stood directly in front of him.
“Don’t move,” Joey said.
Justin raised his eyebrows, but didn’t flinch.
Joey knelt. Right between Justin’s open legs. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough to smell the sweat, the soap, the clean boy-musk that clung to his skin.
Joey ran his hand along Justin’s thigh. Just one long stroke—slow, certain, reverent. His thumb brushed the edge of the towel.
“You been calling me king all day,” he murmured. “You say it like a joke.”
Justin swallowed, throat bobbing again.
Joey kept his hand moving, up to the hip, resting there. “Say it again.”
Justin’s lips parted. “King.”
“Yeah?” Joey’s voice dropped lower. “And what’s that make you?”
Justin blinked. His mouth opened. Then he laughed—just once, soft, like he couldn’t believe they were here. “Don’t push it, bro.”
Joey squeezed his thigh. “Say it.”
Justin stared at him. Then, very quietly, very cocky, very hot—
“…Princess.”
Joey’s pulse slammed. His cock throbbed. His fingers curled tighter on Justin’s hip.
“Fuck,” Joey muttered.
Justin smirked, but his voice was lower now. Rougher. “You like that, huh?”
Joey leaned in, eyes locked on his. “You have no idea.”
Justin shifted. Just slightly. His thighs opened a bit more.
Joey’s hand slid under the towel. Just his palm at first, hot against bare skin. He felt Justin’s breath catch, the way his hips rolled up just a little. Joey found his sweet, smooth pucker, felt the way it tightened then relaxed to his touch.
“Say it again,” Joey whispered.
Justin’s voice came back soft, wrecked. “I’m your princess.”
Joey didn’t kiss him. Not yet. He just pressed his forehead against Justin’s thigh, breath shaking, trying to hold himself back. His fingers kept exploring Justin’s ass lips.
“Good girl,” he said.
Justin’s hole twitched.
Justin shivered. It wasn’t the heat—wasn’t nerves. It was something else. Something deeper. His whole body responded to those two words like they were gospel.
Joey pulled his hand back for a second. Just long enough to run both palms up Justin’s thighs, slow and wide, until his fingers met in the center—cupping, cradling. Not jerking. Not pushing. Just holding him.
“You been letting me look,” Joey murmured. “Been showing off for weeks.”
Justin didn’t deny it. Just stared down at him, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted.
“You knew what I saw, didn’t you?”
Justin’s breath hitched. He nodded. Barely.
Joey leaned closer, lips brushing the skin just above his knee. “Tell me what I see when I look at you.”
Justin swallowed. His voice cracked open. “Your girl.”
Joey exhaled, eyes fluttering shut like the words hit him dead in the chest. His hands slid around Justin’s ass again, cupping both cheeks, thumbs teasing the crease, spreading him just a little—testing how open he already was.
“Yeah you are,” Joey said, almost to himself. “My princess.”
Justin’s whole body went soft, molten. His towel slid a little lower. The head of his cock—small, flushed, leaking—peeked out against his thigh.
Joey saw it and smiled. Not mocking. Not surprised. Just pleased. Turned on.
“You been getting off to this?” he asked, voice low, steady. “Getting off to me treating you like my girl?”
Justin gave a shaky nod.
Joey leaned in, pressed a kiss to Justin’s thigh. Then another. Then higher—closer to the heat, the scent, the slickness.
“You don’t need to be big to take care of me,” Joey murmured, breath hot against him. “You just gotta open up. Just gotta give it to me.”
Justin moaned. Quiet. Barely audible. But it was there.
Joey nuzzled against his hip, kissing just beside the twitching head of Justin’s cock, whispering like it was prayer.
“You want me to touch your pussy, princess?”
Justin choked on a breath. Nodded. Then, desperate now, he said it:
“Please.”
Joey slipped one finger back under the towel, teased the rim of Justin’s hole, circled slow.
“You beg pretty.”
Justin whimpered. His cock was leaking against his stomach now, dripping onto his abs.
Joey watched it—watched him. He brought his thumb to Justin’s slick tip, dragged it through the mess.
“Such a pretty little dicklet,” he murmured. “But that’s not what makes you mine, is it?”
Justin’s whole body trembled.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Joey—”
Joey didn’t stop. He slid a finger inside, slow, steady, letting Justin open around him. The heat, the grip, the way Justin moaned and arched—Joey had never felt anything like it.
“Is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Justin said, breathless.
“What is?” Joey’s fingers gently spread Justin’s pucker lips open a little further.
“M-my pussy.”
Joey’s finger slid all the way inside making Justin moan.
“You’re gonna take me, aren’t you,” he whispered. “Like a good girl.”
Justin nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Fuck—yeah, king. Anything you want.”
“You’re gonna take me in your pussy? Be a good princess for her king?”
Justin nodded. “I’m your princess, Joey.”
Joey stood up, and pulled off his towel.
Joey stood up, pulled off his towel, and let his cock hang heavy between them—thick, flushed, dripping with pre.
Justin’s eyes dropped. His lips parted.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
Joey stepped between his legs, one hand stroking his cock slow, keeping it hard and hot and slick. The other hand cupped the back of Justin’s neck, firm but gentle, guiding his gaze back up.
“Eyes on me, princess.”
Justin obeyed.
Joey reached down, took Justin’s towel and peeled it away. The air hit him all at once—his leaking cocklet twitching, his hole wet, open, glistening from Joey’s fingers. He looked wrecked already. And Joey hadn’t even started.
“Turn around.”
Justin hesitated—just a second. Then he moved. Smooth and obedient. He slid down off the top bench, hands braced on the wood, ass lifted. His knees bent slightly, just enough to tilt his hips back. Presented. Offered.
Joey’s breath caught.
Justin looked back at him once, over his shoulder, lashes low. “This what you want, king?”
Joey stepped behind him, palmed his ass cheeks, spread him wide. His hole was twitching. Wanting.
“It’s mine,” Joey said, voice breaking low. “You’re mine.”
He lined up, guided the fat head of his cock to Justin’s pussy, rubbed it slow against the slick entrance.
Justin gasped.
Joey just held it there. Teasing. Letting the heat mount. Letting Justin feel what was coming.
“You ready for it?” Joey whispered.
Justin nodded fast. “Yes—please, yes—”
Joey pushed. Just the head. The stretch made Justin cry out, hands clawing at the bench.
“Oh my god—Joey—”
“Shhh,” Joey murmured. “I got you.”
He kept pushing. Deeper. Inch by thick inch. Justin’s back arched, his breath hitched, his body took it.
“Fuck,” Joey groaned. “You’re tight.”
Justin was whimpering now, one hand slipping between his legs, stroking his little cock, leaking all over the bench.
Joey bottomed out.
Fully inside.
Fully claimed.
He bent over Justin’s back, hands gripping his hips, mouth pressed against his neck.
“Say it again.”
Justin moaned. “I’m your princess.”
Joey pulled back, slammed in again—deep, slow, devastating.
“Say it louder.”
“I’m your princess, I’m your fucking girl, king, please—”
Joey started fucking him.
Harder now. Deeper. The heat in the sauna turned liquid. Their skin slapped together, sweat rolling off their bodies, muscles flexing, groans and gasps filling the wood box like steam.
Joey couldn’t stop.
Justin didn’t want him to.
“Take it,” Joey growled, pounding into him. “Take your king’s cock.”
Justin sobbed—half-laugh, half-moan, completely broken open.
“I love it—fuck—I love it in my pussy—”
Joey felt himself right at the edge, heart thundering, brain white-hot.
“You wanna make your king cum?”
Justin nodded fast. “Inside—do it—please—mark me—”
Joey slammed one last time, buried to the hilt, and came. Hard. Deep. Filling him with pulse after pulse, cock jumping inside Justin’s body as he spilled everything into his princess.
Justin moaned through it, touching himself, leaking all over the bench, his own orgasm twitchy and small and soaked.
Joey collapsed against his back, breath shallow, heart pounding, cock still twitching inside him.
Neither of them moved.
The sauna groaned.
Justin finally whispered, “King?”
Joey kissed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, princess?”
Justin smiled. “I promise I won’t disappear again.”
Joey smiled too. “Good.”
Joey didn’t pull out right away. He stayed inside, chest pressed to Justin’s back, both of them still slick, shaking, the sauna thick with heat and the scent of sex.
Justin was gasping softly. His forehead rested against the bench, arms loose, whole body open and limp.
Joey kissed the back of his neck again. Then his shoulder. Then lower, across the slope of his spine, slow, reverent.
His cock finally slipped free with a soft, wet sound. Justin flinched—not from pain, but from how empty he suddenly felt.
Joey knelt behind him.
Justin stayed where he was—on all fours, ass still lifted, legs parted, skin glowing red from heat and friction. His pussy was open, twitching, slick with sweat and lube and Joey’s cum.
Joey watched it. Hypnotized.
Then—he reached out.
He dragged two fingers through the mess. Cum was already starting to drip out of him—thick and white and warm, rolling lazy down the crease of his hole. Joey caught it. Rubbed it between his fingers. Spread it right back over Justin’s slit.
Justin whimpered.
“You feel that?” Joey murmured, voice low and gravelly. “That’s mine.”
He pushed a fingertip inside, slow, gentle. Felt his own cum inside Justin’s body. Swirled it. Let it spill back out onto his hand.
“Fucking leaking for me,” he whispered, more to himself than to Justin. “Just like a girl.”
Justin’s whole body shuddered.
Joey caught another drip with his thumb and rubbed it in slow, smeared it across Justin’s hole. Then he leaned down, kissed right above it. Soft. Careful. Intimate.
“I like it messy,” he murmured.
Justin moaned—wrecked, open, undone.
Joey kept going. He let the cum run over his knuckles, then brought it to Justin’s cocklet, still twitching against his abs. He smeared it across the tip, slow and deliberate.
“Get it everywhere,” he said. “That’s what good girls do.”
Justin whimpered. “I love it.”
Joey smiled. Dark. Possessive.
He gathered more of the mess, this time pushing two fingers back inside, watching his princess stretch around him, watching more of his load spill out around the intrusion.
“You’re dripping, baby,” Joey said. “Can’t even hold it all.”
Justin moaned into his arms, whole body flushed and twitching.
Joey leaned close, kissed the base of his spine, then whispered:
“Next time, I’m fucking you in front of a mirror.”
Justin gasped.
Joey smiled. “Wanna watch it spill out while you say thank you.”
Justin made a broken sound—half-laugh, half-prayer.
Joey kissed his hip. “You earned it, princess.”
Then, with his hands still sticky, he stood, grabbed a towel, and started to clean her up. Slowly. Carefully. Still touching, still teasing, like it wasn’t over. Like it would never be over.
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