The plumber’s name was Vince, and he had the kind of hands that looked like they could wrench apart steel pipes without breaking a sweat. Thick fingers, knuckles scarred from years of work, and forearms corded with muscle that flexed every time he twisted a wrench. He wasn’t tall, but he was built like a brick wall — broad shoulders, a chest that strained against his company-issued shirt, and thighs that could probably crack walnuts if he squeezed hard enough.
The house he’d been called to was one of those modern places with too much glass and not enough soul, all sharp angles and cold floors. The owner, a guy named Rick, answered the door in a tight white tee that did nothing to hide the bulk underneath. He had the same kind of build as Vince — thick neck, heavy arms, the kind of body that came from lifting more than just weights. His grip when they shook hands was firm, lingering just a second too long.
“The kitchen sink’s backed up,” Rick said, voice deeper than Vince expected. He led the way, and Vince couldn’t help but notice the way his jeans hugged his ass, the denim straining with every step. The kitchen smelled like bleach and something faintly spicy, maybe cumin. Vince set his toolbox down with a thud and crouched in front of the sink, popping open the cabinet underneath.
The space was tight, forcing Vince to wedge himself in at an awkward angle. His jeans rode low on his hips, and he could feel the cool air against the small of his back as he reached for the pipe wrench. Behind him, Rick cleared his throat. “Need a hand?”
Vince glanced over his shoulder. Rick was closer than he’d realized, close enough that Vince could see the dark stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his throat. Their eyes locked for a beat too long before Vince turned back to the pipes. “Nah, I got it.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
He felt the shift before he saw it — Rick’s breath hitching, the creak of the floorboards as he stepped closer. Then, without warning, fingers hooked into the waistband of Vince’s jeans and yanked them down to his thighs. Vince froze, the wrench slipping from his grip. Before he could react, Rick’s cock was pressing against him, thick and insistent, the heat of it undeniable even through his boxers.
Vince should’ve shoved him off. Should’ve stood up and walked out. Instead, he arched his back, pressing himself into Rick’s grip with a groan that surprised them both. Rick didn’t hesitate. He tugged Vince’s boxers down just enough, spit slicking his fingers before he pushed them against Vince’s hole, working him open with a patience that felt at odds with the urgency of the moment.
“Is this okay?” Rick murmured, his other hand gripping Vince’s hip hard enough to bruise.
Vince’s answer was to push back harder, letting out a shaky breath as Rick’s fingers curled inside him. He could feel the stretch, the slow burn of it, and fuck, it had been too long since someone touched him like this. Rick’s cock pressed against his thigh, leaking against his skin, and Vince reached back blindly, wrapping a hand around it.
Rick swore under his breath, hips jerking forward into Vince’s grip. “You sure?”
Vince didn’t answer with words. He just spread his legs wider.
Rick’s fingers withdrew with a slick sound, replaced almost immediately by the blunt pressure of his cockhead nudging against Vince’s loosened hole. Vince held his breath, fingers digging into the underside of the sink cabinet as Rick leaned over him, the heat of his body pressing Vince further into the cramped space. There was no hurry—just the slow, deliberate push as Rick sank into him, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against Vince’s ass. A low groan tore from Vince’s throat at the stretch, the fullness, the way Rick’s breath hitched against the back of his neck.
“Jesus,” Rick muttered, one hand sliding up Vince’s spine to fist in the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t move yet, just stayed buried inside him, letting Vince adjust to the thickness. The air smelled like sweat and the sharp tang of lube, and beneath that, something warmer — skin, musk, the quiet intimacy of shared breath. Vince shifted experimentally, rolling his hips back, and Rick made a broken sound, his grip tightening.
Then he pulled out, almost all the way, before driving back in with a deep, measured thrust that punched the air from Vince’s lungs. Rick set a rhythm that was slow at first, each movement deliberate, his cock dragging against Vince’s walls in a way that made his vision blur. It wasn’t frantic, wasn’t rough — just relentless, the kind of fucking that built heat low in Vince’s belly, wave after wave, until his thighs trembled with it.
Rick’s free hand slid around Vince’s waist, fingers splaying over his stomach before dipping lower, wrapping around his cock. The touch was dry at first, just the rough pad of his thumb over the head, but then Rick spat into his palm and stroked him in time with his thrusts, his grip firm but not punishing. Vince’s head dropped forward, his forehead pressing against the cabinet door as he gasped, his hips stuttering between the push of Rick’s cock and the pull of his hand.
“Look at you,” Rick murmured, his voice gone gravelly. He nipped at Vince’s shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the bite just shy of sharp. “Taking me so fucking good.” Vince could only groan in response, his body tightening around Rick as pleasure coiled tighter in his gut. Rick’s thrusts grew uneven, his breath coming faster, and when he came, it was with a groan that vibrated against Vince’s back, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled hot sperm inside him.
He didn’t pull out right away, just stayed there, pressing lazy kisses along Vince’s shoulder blade while his hand kept working Vince’s cock, slower now, teasing. Vince was close — so close — but Rick slowed further, drawing it out until Vince was panting, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the floor. “Please,” he ground out, and Rick chuckled darkly before speeding up again, his thumb swiping over the slit of Vince’s cock just as he drove deep one last time.
Vince came with a choked-off cry, his body bowing under the force of it, his jizz spilling over Rick’s fingers and the linoleum below. Rick held him through it, his other arm wrapping around Vince’s chest to keep him upright as his knees threatened to give out. For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, the drip of the still-clogged sink, the distant hum of the fridge.
Then Rick pressed a kiss to the damp hair at Vince’s temple and murmured, “So. You free for dinner?”
Vince’s laugh came out hoarse, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of orgasm. “Dinner?” He craned his neck to look at Rick, whose lips were curved into a smirk that did something dangerous to Vince’s pulse. “You’re gonna fuck me raw under your sink and then ask me out like a gentleman?”
Rick’s thumb brushed over Vince’s hipbone, sticky with come and sweat. “Figured I’d better make sure the chemistry was there first.” His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft, almost tender, as he slowly pulled out, wincing at the sensitivity. Vince hissed at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing, still throbbing from the stretch.
Rick helped him up, steadying him when his legs wobbled, and Vince didn’t miss the way Rick’s gaze dropped to the mess between them — his own sperm dripping down Vince’s thighs, the slick shine around his rim. Rick’s jaw tightened, like he was committing the sight to memory. “Shower,” he said abruptly, and it wasn’t a question.
The bathroom was all slate tiles and frosted glass, steam already curling in the air by the time Rick nudged Vince under the spray. The water was scalding, just shy of too hot, and Vince groaned as it sluiced over his shoulders, washing away the grime of the day. Rick followed him in, crowding him against the wall, his hands mapping Vince’s body with a possessiveness that should’ve set off alarms but instead sent a fresh wave of heat straight to Vince’s cock.
Rick’s mouth found his without preamble, the kiss deep and languid, his tongue sliding against Vince’s like they had all the time in the world. Vince let himself be maneuvered, his back pressed to the tiles as Rick dropped to his knees, water cascading over his broad shoulders. He didn’t tease — just took Vince’s half-hard cock into his mouth in one smooth motion, his throat working around him with practiced ease. Vince’s head thunked against the wall, his fingers tangling in Rick’s wet hair as he fucked into that wet heat, the scrape of stubble against his thighs sending sparks up his spine.
Rick pulled off with a filthy sound, his lips swollen, his breath coming fast. “Turn around.” His voice was a growl, but his hands were gentle as he guided Vince to face the wall, spreading him open with thumbs that knew exactly where to press. Vince braced himself, his pulse jumping when he felt Rick’s tongue — hot and insistent — lapping at his sensitive hole, lapping up his own come with a groan that vibrated against Vince’s skin.
It was slow, so slow, Rick’s tongue working him open all over again, his hands gripping Vince’s hips to keep him from rutting back. Vince whined, high and desperate, his cock leaking against the tiles. “Rick — fuck —”
Rick stood abruptly, his chest plastered to Vince’s back, his cock slotting between Vince’s thighs. He reached around, stroking Vince in time with the shallow thrusts against his ass, his breath hot against Vince’s ear. “Gonna take you to bed next,” he murmured, nipping at Vince’s earlobe. “Gonna make you cum on my sheets so I can smell you on them tomorrow.”
Vince came with a broken cry, his knees buckling, Rick’s name a prayer on his lips. Rick followed him over the edge, his hips stuttering, his lips grazing Vince’s shoulder as he spilled his cum over Vince’s thighs.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the water cooling around them, Rick’s arms wrapped around Vince’s waist like he was something precious.
“So,” Rick said eventually, his voice rough with something that wasn’t just lust. “Dinner.”
Vince turned in his arms, cupping Rick’s face in his hands. “Yeah,” he said, and kissed him. “Dinner.”
The sink was still clogged. Neither of them gave a damn.
*****
Vince woke up tangled in Rick’s sheets, the morning light filtering through the blinds in slatted gold across the rumpled duvet. Rick’s arm was a heavy weight around his waist, his breath warm against the back of Vince’s neck. The scent of sex still lingered in the air—musk and sweat and the faint tang of lube — and Vince stretched lazily, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles, the way his hole throbbed when he shifted. Rick stirred behind him, his fingers tightening possessively on Vince’s hip before sliding lower, tracing the curve of his ass with a reverence that made Vince’s breath catch.
“Morning,” Rick murmured, his voice sleep-rough. He pressed a kiss to Vince’s shoulder blade, his stubble scraping lightly against skin still sensitive from last night’s attention. His fingers dipped between Vince’s cheeks, probing gently at the swollen rim, and Vince arched into the touch with a groan, already half-hard. “Sore?” Rick asked, though the way he said it made it clear he already knew the answer.
Vince rolled onto his back, meeting Rick’s gaze. The man’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with want despite the early hour. “A little bit,” Vince admitted, his voice hoarse. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Rick’s cock, which was already thick and heavy against his thigh. “Not too sore to return the favor, though.”
Rick’s breath hitched as Vince stroked him, his hips jerking into the touch. But instead of letting Vince take the lead, he caught Vince’s wrist, pinning it to the mattress beside his head. “Let me,” he said, and there was something unbearably tender in his voice, something that made Vince’s chest tighten. Rick kissed him then, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against Vince’s like they had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his lips were slick, his eyes soft. “I want to taste you.”
Vince’s pulse jumped at the words, his cock twitching against his stomach. Rick didn’t wait for a response — just slid down the bed, his hands spreading Vince’s thighs wide before he bent his head and took Vince’s cock into his mouth in one smooth motion. The heat of it was overwhelming, Rick’s tongue working him with a skill that had Vince’s toes curling into the sheets almost immediately. He tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair, not guiding, just holding on as Rick sucked him down, his throat flexing around the head of Vince’s cock in a way that made his vision blur.
Rick pulled off just long enough to smirk up at him before ducking lower, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin behind Vince’s balls before licking a slow, wet stripe over his hole. Vince jerked, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as Rick’s tongue pressed inside, lapping at him with a thoroughness that left him shaking. “Fuck — Rick —” Vince gasped, his hips lifting off the bed, seeking more. Rick chuckled against his skin, the vibration sending sparks up Vince’s spine, before doubling down, his tongue working Vince open with a patience that bordered on cruel.
By the time Rick finally pushed two fingers into him alongside his tongue, Vince was a writhing mess, his cock leaking against his stomach, his fingers clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. Rick crooked his fingers just right, brushing against that spot inside him that made his back bow, and Vince came with a cry, his orgasm crashing over him so hard his vision whited out for a second. Rick swallowed every drop, his fingers still working Vince through it, milking him until Vince was whimpering from oversensitivity.
When Vince finally came back to himself, Rick was crawling back up his body, his cock slick with precome where it dragged against Vince’s thigh. Vince reached for him blindly, his limbs still loose with pleasure, and Rick sank into his embrace with a groan, their mouths meeting in a messy, breathless kiss. Vince could taste himself on Rick’s tongue, bitter and salty, and the thought of it — Rick wanting him like this, needing him — sent a fresh surge of heat through his veins.
“Your turn,” Vince murmured against Rick’s lips, rolling them over so he was straddling Rick’s hips. He reached behind himself, guiding Rick’s cock to his hole, still loose and wet from Rick’s mouth. Rick’s hands settled on Vince’s waist, his grip firm but not restraining, letting Vince set the pace as he sank down onto him inch by inch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps at the stretch. When he was fully seated, their hips flush, Vince paused, letting himself adjust to the thickness, the way Rick filled him so perfectly it almost hurt.
Then he began to move — slow at first, rolling his hips in a tight circle that made Rick’s fingers dig into his flesh. The angle was perfect, Rick’s cock dragging against his nut-hard prostate with every rise and fall. Vince braced his hands on Rick’s chest, relishing the way the muscles tensed beneath his palms, the way Rick’s breath hitched every time Vince clenched around him.
Rick’s thumbs brushed over Vince’s hipbones, his touch reverent as he watched Vince ride him, his gaze dark with something more than lust. “You’re gorgeous like this,” Rick murmured, his voice rough. He reached up, tracing the line of Vince’s collarbone with his fingertips before sliding his hand around to cup the back of Vince’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss that was more breath than lips.
Vince moaned into it, his rhythm stuttering as Rick’s other hand found his cock, stroking him in time with the rise and fall of his hips. The dual sensation was overwhelming—Rick inside him, around him, everywhere — and Vince broke the kiss to press his forehead against Rick’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice cracking.
Rick’s grip tightened, his hips lifting to meet Vince’s downward thrust, driving deeper. “Cum for me,” he urged, his voice thick with want. Vince obeyed, his body tightening around Rick as pleasure crashed over him, his sperm spilling over Rick’s fist and between their abdomens. Rick followed moments later, his hips jerking erratically as he buried himself to the hilt, his groan muffled against Vince’s shoulder.
They stayed like that, tangled together, sweat-slick and breathless, until Vince’s legs trembled too much to hold him up. He collapsed onto Rick’s chest, their hearts pounding in sync, Rick’s arms wrapping around him like he never wanted to let go.
Later, after another shower and a shared omelet in Rick’s sunlit kitchen, Vince found himself pressed against the counter, Rick’s mouth hot on his neck as his hands wandered lower. “I thought you might have to work,” Vince teased, though he made no move to stop him.
Rick nipped at his earlobe. “I called in sick.” His palm cupped Vince through his jeans, the pressure just shy of too much. “I got a plumber to take care of.”
Vince laughed, the sound dissolving into a moan as Rick dropped to his knees, his fingers already working open Vince’s fly. The sink was still clogged. Neither of them cared.
The third morning dawned with Rick’s mouth sucking the meat of Vince’s shoulder and his fingers knuckle-deep inside him, working him open with a slow, methodical rhythm that had Vince’s thighs trembling against the sheets. Vince groaned into the pillow, his cock leaking against the mattress, his hips pushing back onto Rick’s hand with desperate little jerks. “Fuck — again?” he managed, voice wrecked from the night before, when Rick had pinned him face-down and fucked him so thoroughly his legs had given out twice.
Rick chuckled against his skin, the vibration sending a shiver down Vince’s spine. “I told you,” he murmured, crooking his fingers just so, wrenching a punched-out moan from Vince’s throat. “Three days. I’m not wasting a minute.” His free hand slid under Vince’s hip, lifting him slightly, and then his tongue was there — hot and insistent, lapping at Vince’s stretched rim with a filthy, wet sound that made Vince’s toes curl.
Vince buried his face in the pillow, muffling a broken noise as Rick’s tongue delved deeper, fucking into him with a rhythm that matched his fingers. The dual sensation was overwhelming — Rick’s mouth soft where his fingers were rough, the contrast sending sparks up Vince’s spine. He reached back blindly, tangling his fingers in Rick’s sleep-mussed hair, holding him there as Rick groaned against his skin, the sound vibrating through him like a live wire.
When Rick finally pulled away, Vince was a shuddering mess, his cock achingly hard, his hole clenching around nothing. Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze dark as he took in the sight of Vince sprawled out for him, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat. “Turn over,” he ordered, voice rough.
Vince obeyed without hesitation, rolling onto his back, his legs falling open in invitation. Rick’s breath caught at the sight, his cock twitching against his stomach. He leaned down, capturing Vince’s mouth in a searing kiss, letting him taste himself on Rick’s tongue. Vince moaned into it, his hands sliding up Rick’s broad back, nails digging into the muscle there as Rick settled between his thighs, his cock nudging against Vince’s asshole.
There was no hurry — just the slow, inexorable push as Rick sank into him, their mouths still locked together, their breaths mingling. Vince wrapped his legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him deeper, his body stretching to accommodate Rick’s thickness with a familiar burn that bordered on bliss. Rick broke the kiss to press his forehead against Vince’s, his hips rolling in a slow, deep grind that had Vince seeing stars.
“Look at you,” Rick murmured, his voice thick with something that wasn’t just lust. He brushed a thumb over Vince’s lower lip, his eyes soft even as his thrusts grew more insistent. “Taking me so fucking good.” Vince’s answering moan was swallowed by another kiss, Rick’s tongue sliding against his as their hips moved together, the rhythm unhurried, almost lazy.
It felt like making love — the way Rick’s hands mapped Vince’s body like he was memorizing him, the way their breaths synced, the quiet, broken sounds Rick made when Vince clenched around him just right. Vince had never been fucked like this before, with this kind of tenderness, like Rick was trying to crawl inside his ribcage and stay there. He hooked an ankle over Rick’s hip, urging him deeper, and Rick obliged with a groan, his thrusts losing their rhythm as pleasure overtook him.
When Rick came, it was with Vince’s name on his lips, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside him, his body shuddering with the force of it. Vince held him through it, stroking his back, pressing kisses to the sweat-damp skin of his shoulders. Rick didn’t pull out right away — just stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to Vince’s. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he murmured, half-laughing, half-serious.
Vince smirked, rolling them over so Rick was beneath him, his cock still half-hard inside Vince. “Good,” he said, and kissed him. Then he reached between them, wrapping a hand around his own cock, stroking himself slowly, teasingly, watching the way Rick’s eyes darkened as he watched. “Your turn to watch.”
Rick’s hands settled on Vince’s hips, his grip firm but not guiding, letting Vince set the pace as he rocked back and forth on Rick’s softening cock, his own hand moving in lazy strokes. Rick’s breath hitched every time Vince tightened around him, his fingers digging into Vince’s skin like he was trying to hold on. “Fuck, Vince —” he gasped, his hips jerking up involuntarily, and Vince grinned, savoring the way Rick’s body still responded to him even after cumming.
He leaned down, capturing Rick’s mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue sliding against Rick’s as he worked himself closer to the edge. Rick’s hands slid up his back, pulling him closer, their chests pressed together, their hearts pounding in sync. Vince broke the kiss to gasp against Rick’s lips, his strokes speeding up, his body tightening around Rick’s cock as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice rough.
Rick’s response was to suck hard on his shoulder, the suction sending Vince over the edge with a cry, his sperm spilling over his fingers and onto Rick’s midriff. Rick held him through it, his hands roaming Vince’s back, his mouth pressed to Vince’s neck like he was trying to drink him in.
They lay there afterward, sticky and sated, Rick’s fingers tracing idle patterns on Vince’s spine. The sun was higher now, casting warm light across the bed, and Vince could hear birds outside the window, the distant hum of a lawnmower. Normal sounds, for a morning that felt anything but.
Rick was the one to break the silence. “Stay,” he said, simple and direct, like he was asking Vince to pass the salt. "I don’t mean just for the night. I want forever with you." His fingers tightened slightly on Vince’s hip, betraying the weight behind the word.
Vince lifted his head to meet Rick’s gaze. The man’s eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way that made Vince’s chest ache. He thought about his empty apartment, his half-finished jobs, the way Rick’s sheets smelled like them both.
“Yeah,” he said, and kissed him. “I’ll stay.”
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