"That's fifteen," Frank grunted, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his meaty forearm. Burt exhaled sharply through his nose, his thick chest rising and falling as he let the barbell rest against the rack. The basement air clung to them, heavy with the musk of effort and the faint metallic tang of old weights.
Neither of them bothered with clothes down here anymore — not after that first awkward session where Frank had shrugged off his shirt and Burt, after a beat, had done the same. It had become an unspoken rule, like spotting each other without question or never commenting on the way their eyes occasionally lingered a second too long on sweat-slicked muscle.
Burt adjusted his stance, his bare feet planted wide on the rubber matting. Frank moved behind him, close enough that Burt could feel the heat radiating off him. A calloused palm settled between Burt's shoulder blades, firm and grounding. "One more set," Frank murmured, his voice low. "You got this."
The weights clanged as Burt lifted again, his biceps bulging under the strain. Frank's fingers trailed down his spine, just for a second — an absent touch, maybe, or something more. Burt didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. Just focused on the burn in his muscles and the way Frank's breath hitched ever so slightly behind him.
"Good," Frank muttered, his voice rougher than usual. His palm slid lower this time, resting briefly at the small of Burt's back before retreating. Burt set the bar down harder than he meant to, the crash echoing off the concrete walls. Silence stretched between them, thick and charged, until Frank cleared his throat. "Water break?"
Burt nodded, wiping his hands on his thighs before reaching for his bottle. Frank stayed close, watching the way Burt's throat worked as he drank, droplets escaping down his chest, tracing the coarse silver hair there. The air between them wasn't just heavy with heat anymore — it was alive with something neither of them had named.
Frank's fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out, but instead, he grabbed his own bottle and took a long swig. When he lowered it, his lips glistened, and Burt caught himself staring. Frank smirked, just a little. "See somethin' you like?"
Burt's pulse kicked up. He could play it off. He should play it off. But the basement was their space, their rules, and damn if he wasn't tired of pretending. "Yeah," he said, rough and honest. "I do."
Frank's smirk faltered. His knuckles whitened around the water bottle. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting shadows between them — between the stretch of bare skin, the sweat still trickling down Frank's temples, the way his thick thighs shifted slightly wider.
Burt took a step closer. The rubber matting gave under his weight. He could smell Frank now — salt and that cheap pine-scented soap he used, undercut with something muskier, darker. The scent coiled low in Burt's gut. Frank didn't back away. Just tilted his head, his gaze dropping to Burt's mouth.
"You're gonna make me say it first, old man?" Frank's voice was teasing, but his breath hitched when Burt crowded him against the weight rack.
Burt snorted. "Kid, if I'd known you wanted my hands on you —" He palmed Frank's hip, his thumb digging into the dense muscle there. Frank groaned, half-surprise, half-relief, his head thunking back against the metal.
Then Frank surged forward, gripping Burt's beard and yanking him into a kiss that was all tongue and desperation. Burt groaned into it, his hands sliding down to haul Frank flush against him, their bodies slotting together like they'd been made for this. Frank sucked at his lip, his other hand scrabbling down Burt's back, blunt fingernails scraping through sweat-damp hair.
The weights rattled dangerously as Frank twisted them around, shoving Burt against the rack with a clang. "Fuck," Frank panted against his mouth. "I've been waiting —" He ground his hips forward, and Burt's vision whited out at the hot press of him. "— years."
Burt growled, gripping Frank's ass hard enough to bruise. "Then quit talkin'."
Frank grinned, wild and hungry, before dropping to his knees.
The sight punched the air from Burt’s lungs — Frank, all that power coiled on the rubber matting, looking up at him with dark, wanton eyes. Calloused hands slid up Burt’s thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where leg met hip, teasing. Frank nuzzled into the coarse thatch of hair at Burt’s groin, inhaling deeply before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock.
Burt’s fingers tangled in Frank’s buzzed scalp, not guiding, just holding on as Frank took him slow, savoring the weight on his tongue, the salt-bitter precum beading at the tip. He licked it away with a filthy noise, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked him deeper, one hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t yet reach.
Burt trembled. He’d dreamed about this — about the wet heat of Frank’s mouth, the way his throat fluttered as he took him all the way down — but fantasy couldn’t compare to the real thing. Frank’s free hand roamed up Burt’s stomach, tracing the ridges of his abs before pinching a nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Burt cursed, his hips jerking forward, and Frank chuckled around him, the vibration wringing a ragged moan from Burt’s chest.
When Frank pulled off with a slick pop, his lips were swollen, spit shining on his chin. “Your turn,” he rasped, rising to kiss Burt hard, letting him taste himself on Frank’s tongue. Burt groaned, palming Frank’s thick cock, stroking him in long, lazy pulls as Frank rutted into his fist. They broke apart only when Frank nudged him toward the padded bench, his voice rough. “Lie down. I want you to watch me.”
Burt obeyed, the vinyl cool against his back as Frank straddled his thighs, reaching behind himself to slick his fingers with lube from the gym bag they kept — ostensibly — for joint pain. The first press inside had Frank hissing, his head falling back, tendons standing out in his neck. Burt gripped his hips, transfixed by the way Frank worked himself open, fingers twisting, scissoring, his cock dripping onto Burt’s stomach. “Christ,” Burt breathed. “You’re gorgeous.”
Frank smirked, breathless, before lifting himself up and sinking onto Burt’s cock in one slow, shuddering roll. They both groaned, Frank’s thighs quivering as he adjusted, his insides clutching tight. He braced his hands on Burt’s chest, riding him with deliberate, grinding thrusts, their skin slapping together in the humid air. Burt clutched his ass, kneading the dense muscle as Frank arched, sweat sheening his torso, his cock bouncing with every movement.
Leaning down, Frank captured Burt’s mouth again, their kiss messy and deep, tongues tangling as their bodies moved in perfect, aching sync. “You feel that?” Frank panted against his lips. “Feels like fucking home.”
Burt groaned, thrusting up into the tight, molten heat of him, hands roaming over Frank’s sweat-slicked back, mapping the ridges of muscle that flexed with each roll of his hips. The air smelled of sex and salt, their mingled sweat glistening where their chests pressed together.
Frank rode him slow, savoring every inch, his cock trapped between their stomachs, leaking against Burt’s abs. He ground down in lazy circles, milking Burt’s length inside him, his hole fluttering with each movement, drawing ragged gasps from both of them.
Burt reached between them, wrapping his fingers around Frank’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. His thumb swiped over the slick tip, smearing precum down the shaft, the glide made effortless by Frank’s own arousal. Frank moaned, low and throaty, his hips stuttering. “Fuck, yeah … just like that.”
Burt lifted his head, capturing Frank’s mouth in a deep, unhurried kiss. Their tongues slid together, tasting sweat and shared breath. Frank’s hands cupped Burt’s jaw, thumbs stroking the rough stubble as he rocked back onto him, taking him impossibly deeper. The vinyl bench creaked beneath them, swallowed by the wet sounds of their bodies moving together.
Frank pulled back just enough to watch where they joined, his fingers tracing the thick line of Burt’s cock disappearing into him, stretched taut around the base. Burt groaned at the sight — Frank’s body yielding so perfectly, his rim flushed and clinging — and tightened his grip on Frank’s hip, guiding him into a slower, even more deliberate rhythm. Frank whimpered, his head falling forward, forehead resting against Burt’s as they moved, their breath mingling in the charged air.
Burt shifted, lifting Frank slightly so he could thrust up into him, angling just right to brush against that spot inside that made Frank’s thighs tremble. “Right there,” Frank gasped, his voice breaking as Burt repeated the motion, relentless and sweet. “Fuck, Burt — don’t stop.”
Burt didn’t. He kept the pace steady, his hands roaming Frank’s sweat-slicked back, down to the curve of his ass, kneading the firm muscle before sliding a thumb along his perineum, teasing the sensitive skin there. Frank shuddered, his cock twitching in Burt’s grip, precum dripping freely now.
Leaning in, Burt licked a stripe up Frank’s throat, nipping lightly at his pulse point before soothing it with his tongue. Frank arched into the touch, his fingers digging into Burt’s shoulders as his orgasm built, slow and inevitable, coiling tight in his gut. Burt could feel it — the way Frank’s body tightened around him, the hitch in his breath — and he murmured against his skin, “Cum for me, kid. Let me feel it.”
Frank’s release hit him like a wave, his cock pulsing in Burt’s hand as he spilled his sperm between them, hot and thick. Burt stroked him through it, watching the pleasure twist Frank’s face, his hole clenching rhythmically around Burt’s cock, dragging him right to the edge. With a groan, Burt followed, burying himself deep as he came, filling Frank in slow, rolling spurts, their bodies locked together in the aftershocks.
Frank slumped forward, spent and breathless, his lips finding Burt’s in a lazy, sated kiss. Their mouths moved slowly, tongues brushing with the familiarity of men who’d waited too long for this, their stubble rasping together as they lingered in the moment. Burt’s hands drifted down Frank’s back, tracing the dip of his spine, the swell of his ass, fingertips skimming the slick mess between them where their bodies were still joined. Frank shivered at the touch, his cock giving a weak twitch against Burt’s stomach, oversensitive but not unwilling.
Burt eased him onto his back on the bench, the vinyl creaking under their combined weight. He kissed down Frank’s chest, pausing to swirl his tongue around a nipple, sucking gently until Frank arched beneath him with a soft groan. Burt’s lips trailed lower, following the trail of coarse hair that led to Frank’s still-hard cock, glistening with their mingled release. He licked a slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the bitter-salty taste, before taking him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as Frank’s fingers tangled in his hair.
Frank gasped, his hips lifting instinctively, but Burt pressed a firm hand to his stomach, holding him down as he worked him with slow, deliberate sucks, his tongue swirling around the head with every pull. Frank’s thighs trembled, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Burt teased him back to full hardness, his mouth hot and wet and perfect. When Burt finally released him with a wet pop, Frank whined at the loss, but Burt wasn’t done — he turned him onto his stomach, spreading his cheeks to expose his flushed, well-used hole, still glistening with lube and Burt’s sperm.
Burt leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the sensitive skin just behind Frank’s balls, then lower, his tongue flicking over Frank’s rim in slow, teasing circles. Frank moaned into the bench, his fingers clutching at the vinyl as Burt licked into him, his tongue probing deep, tasting himself inside Frank. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet basement, Frank’s muffled pleas growing more desperate as Burt worked him open again with his mouth, his hands gripping Frank’s hips to keep him still.
“Fuck, Burt —” Frank gasped, his cock dripping onto the bench beneath him. “I need you —need you inside me again.”
Burt didn’t make him wait. He slicked himself up once more, pressing into Frank from behind with a slow, relentless push, their joined moans echoing off the concrete walls as Burt filled him to the hilt. He set a languid pace, rocking into Frank with deep, measured thrusts, his hands roaming over Frank’s back, his shoulders, his ass — every inch of him worshipped, every touch tender. Frank pushed back against him, meeting every stroke, their bodies moving together like they’d been made for this, like they had all the time in the world.
And for now, they did.
Burt pulled back with a wet sound, lifting himself off Frank’s cock with a slow, shuddering breath. Frank made a noise of protest, reaching for him, but Burt caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm before guiding it down to Frank’s own chest. “My turn,” Burt murmured, his voice rough with want. He straddled Frank’s waist, his thick thighs bracketing Frank’s torso, the heat of Frank’s erection brushing against the cleft of his ass. Frank’s breath hitched as Burt leaned back, one hand braced on Frank’s chest, the other reaching between them to guide Frank’s cock to his entrance.
The first press was slow, deliberate. Burt sank down inch by inch, his body yielding to Frank’s thickness with a low groan, his head tipping back as he took him deep. Frank’s hands settled on Burt’s hips, fingers digging into the dense muscle there, not pushing, just holding on as Burt worked himself onto him. The stretch burned sweetly, the fullness making Burt’s cock twitch where it hung heavy between his thighs. He rocked forward, then back, finding a rhythm that had Frank’s toes curling against the bench, his abs flexing beneath Burt’s palms.
Burt leaned down, capturing Frank’s mouth in a slow, filthy kiss, their tongues sliding together as he rolled his hips, taking Frank deeper with every movement. Frank’s hands slid up Burt’s sweat-slicked torso, thumbs brushing over his nipples, teasing them into tight peaks before roaming higher to cup the back of Burt’s neck, holding him close as they moved together. The air was thick with the sounds of their bodies — wet skin sliding, Frank’s quiet curses, Burt’s ragged breaths as he rode him with slow, grinding thrusts.
Frank’s cock twitched inside him, the thick vein along the underside rubbing deliciously against Burt’s walls with every rise and fall of his hips. Burt reached between them, stroking himself in time with their movements, his fist slick with precum and sweat. Frank watched, transfixed, his gaze darkening as Burt’s hand moved faster, his own hips lifting to meet Burt’s downward strokes, driving deeper with every thrust.
Burt’s rhythm faltered as pleasure coiled tight in his gut, his thighs trembling with the effort of keeping pace. Frank sat up abruptly, wrapping an arm around Burt’s waist to pull him flush against his chest, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together as Frank took over, thrusting up into him with slow, deep rolls of his hips. Burt gasped, his forehead dropping to Frank’s shoulder as Frank’s other hand slipped between them, fingers intertwining with Burt’s around his cock, stroking him in unison with every snap of his hips.
Their mouths met again, messy and breathless, Frank’s tongue licking into Burt’s as their bodies moved together, the bench creaking beneath them. Burt could feel Frank’s heartbeat where their chests pressed together, could taste the salt on his lips, could hear the way his breath hitched every time Burt clenched around him. It was overwhelming — the heat, the weight of Frank inside him, the way his body seemed to know exactly how to move to pull Burt apart at the seams.
Frank’s thrusts grew uneven, his grip tightening around Burt’s cock as he murmured against his mouth, “Gonna cum — fuck, Burt, I’m —” Burt cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his groan as Frank spilled inside him, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing deep. The sensation tipped Burt over the edge, his release striping Frank’s stomach in thick ropes as he shuddered through it, his body clamping down around Frank in waves.
They collapsed together, Burt still straddling Frank’s lap, their breaths mingling in the humid air. Frank’s hands traced idle patterns down Burt’s back, his lips brushing Burt’s shoulder in a lazy, sated kiss. Burt hummed, nuzzling into Frank’s neck, his own fingers carding through the short hair at Frank’s nape. The basement was silent save for their slowing breaths, the fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, casting them in a hazy glow.
For now, there was nothing else — just the two of them, tangled together on the bench, the scent of sex and sweat clinging to their skin, the weight of years of want finally eased. Burt pressed a kiss to Frank’s collarbone, his voice rough but warm. “I guess we should’ve done that sooner.”
Frank laughed, the sound vibrating through Burt’s chest. “Yeah,” he agreed, his fingers tracing circles on Burt’s hip. “But we got time to make up for it.”
And they would. Again and again.
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