Outside, Matt stretched his arms overhead, the late afternoon sun glinting off his oiled muscles as he helped the photographer collapse her tripod. The photographer, Leah, kept her gaze trained firmly on her equipment, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. Matt grinned, deliberately rolling his shoulders to make his pecs flex. “Need me to carry anything?” he offered, his voice dripping with false innocence.
Luke snorted as he hoisted a crate of camera gear. “Subtle,” he muttered, watching Leah’s grip slip on her lens cap. Matt’s grin widened. He shifted his weight, letting the sunlight catch the defined ridges of his abs, the oil making every contour glisten. “What? Just being helpful,” he said, flexing his biceps as he took the tripod from her. His cock, half-hard and swaying with the movement, brushed against her wrist.
Leah squeaked, nearly dropping her camera. “Oh my god,” she hissed, her face scarlet. Luke bit back a laugh, adjusting his grip on the crate. “Ignore him,” he advised, though his own nakedness undermined the sentiment. Matt just winked, shifting closer to Leah under the guise of steadying the equipment. “You’re sweating,” he observed, swiping a thumb over her temple. His touch lingered, and Leah’s breath hitched. “It’s hot out,” she managed, voice cracking.
Matt hummed, leaning in just enough for his chest to graze her shoulder. “Yeah,” he agreed, low and deliberate. “Real hot.” Leah’s grip on her camera tightened, her knuckles whitening. Luke rolled his eyes, hefting the crate toward her car. “Jesus, Matt. Give the girl a heart attack.”
Matt’s chuckle was warm, his fingers brushing Leah’s as he handed her the lens. “You good?” he asked, tilting his head. Leah nodded jerkily, her gaze darting everywhere except downward. “Great shoot,” she blurted, then winced at her own voice. Matt’s grin turned wolfish. “Yeah? Liked what you saw?” His hips canted forward slightly, his cock twitching against his thigh. Leah made a strangled noise, clutching her camera to her chest like a shield.
Matt leaned in closer, his sun-warmed skin brushing against Leah’s bare shoulder as he grinned down at her. "Hey," he murmured, voice dripping with casual charm, "you think I could borrow your video camera and tripod for a couple days? If all you need to develop the pics is your still camera, right?"
Leah’s breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around her camera strap, knuckles whitening. "I. um." Her gaze flickered from Matt’s face to his chest, then snapped back up, her cheeks flushing darker.
Matt inched even closer, his oiled chest nearly brushing Leah's shoulder as he pouted, his full lips jutting out in exaggerated pleading. "Come on," he murmured, voice dropping to that low, coaxing register that made her knees wobble. "Just the video camera and tripod for a couple days. You don't need 'em to develop the shots, right?" His fingers brushed the strap of her DSLR where it hung around her neck, tracing the nylon absently. "That's your main one."
Leah's breath hitched. Up close, Matt smelled like coconut sunscreen and sweat, the musk of it heady where his throat curved under her eyeline. Her fingers tightened on her camera body, knuckles whitening. "I, well, it's really expensive equipment," she managed, voice cracking on the last syllable as Matt tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with deliberate slowness.
His fingertips lingered at the shell of her ear, calloused from years of gripping oars. "I'll be so careful," he promised, breath warm against her temple. When she didn't immediately protest, his mouth curved into a smirk against her skin. "And I'll owe you." The pause was deliberate, his lips brushing her earlobe on the next words: "Big time."
Leah yelped, jerking backward, only for Matt's free hand to catch her hip, steadying her with infuriating ease. Her face burned hotter than the late afternoon sun glinting off his shoulders. "F-fine," she stammered, shoving the tripod at his chest with enough force to make his pecs jiggle. "But if you break it, I'm billing the team."
Matt's grin widened as Leah relented, his fingers lingering at her jawline before pulling away with deliberate slowness. "Knew you'd come around," he murmured, watching her flustered expression with obvious amusement. His thumb brushed against the strap of her DSLR again, this time accidentally-on-purpose catching the swell of her breast beneath her tank top. Leah inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on her remaining camera as Matt's smirk turned downright predatory.
The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the oil still sheening Matt's chest as he shifted the borrowed tripod onto his shoulder, the motion making his biceps flex. Leah's gaze dropped instinctively, then snapped back up to his face with a choked noise when she realized he'd caught her looking. Matt chuckled low in his throat, peeking through the view hole of the video camera. "This is nice, you got good taste."
Leah stammered something incoherent, her cheeks flushing crimson as she fumbled with her camera bag. "I'll, uh, edit the pics and get them to you guys in a week or two," she managed, voice cracking. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward campus. "But you can return the equipment to my dorm anytime. Like, anytime at all."
Matt grinned, slow and wolfish, oiled muscles flexing as he adjusted the tripod on his shoulder. "Sure, girl," he drawled, leaning in just enough for his chest to brush her arm. His voice dropped to a purr. "I'll stop by your room if that's what you want."
Leah yelped, nearly dropping her lens cap. "Yeah! Yeah, anytime!" she blurted, snatching her bag off the ground with frantic energy. "Gotta go. Bye!" She bolted for the parking lot, sneakers squeaking as she fled into the late afternoon sunlight.
Luke burst out laughing, slapping Matt's back hard enough to make him stumble. "Jesus, dude," he wheezed, shaking his head. "You gotta go easy on these girls. You're gonna make 'em cum just from flirting."
Matt adjusted the tripod with deliberate slowness, letting the sunlight catch every ridge of his abs. "Can't help it if my natural charisma's lethal," he said, tossing his hair back with a practiced flick. "It's like a superpower. Women see me and their knees just-" He mimed collapsing with an exaggerated wobble.
Luke wheezed, doubling over to smack Matt's back hard enough to leave a red handprint on his shoulder. "Christ, dude," he gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're gonna give that girl a heart attack. She looked two seconds away from either passing out or climbing you like a jungle gym."
Luke tilted his head, his sun-bleached strands glinting as he eyed the video camera in Matt's grip. "Why the hell do you even want that shit anyway?"
Matt grinned, flexing his oiled biceps as he adjusted the tripod with exaggerated care. The late afternoon light caught the sweat still glistening in the hollow of his throat. "Been meaning to film myself fucking some chicks," he laughed. "Now I've got pro equipment to do it right."
Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I should've known it was something disgusting," he muttered, shaking his head as Matt grinned shamelessly.
Matt grinned, flicking the video camera's power switch with his thumb. The device whirred to life, its red recording light blinking like a warning. "Dude, we should record something right now," he said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "For the shits."
Before Luke could protest, Matt swung the lens toward him, capturing Luke mid-eye-roll. The late afternoon sun painted Luke’s sweat-slicked chest gold, his abs flexing as he reached to shove the camera away. "Jesus, Matt-"
"Stop being a pussy and give me some poses," Matt barked, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he fumbled with the tripod legs. The late afternoon sun painted the boathouse dock in gold, glinting off the sweat still sheening Luke’s chest as he rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.
Luke exhaled sharply through his nose but obliged, turning his back to Matt and flexing his shoulders in a slow roll. The motion made the muscles in his back ripple, the sweat-slick skin catching the light as he arched slightly, one hand braced against his hip. The pose was effortless. The kind of casual arrogance that came from knowing exactly how his body looked.
Matt’s grin widened as he clipped the videocam onto the tripod with a decisive click. “There we go,” he muttered, adjusting the angle before jogging over to Luke with bare feet slapping against the sun-warmed wood.
Matt lunged forward before Luke could look back, wrapping his arms around Luke's waist from behind in a mock-lover's embrace. His soft cock slapped against Luke's thigh as he ground his hips forward with exaggerated thrusts, the oil on his skin making the slide obscene. "Oh baby," Matt crooned, pitching his voice high and breathy, "you like it like this, don't you?" His hands slid up Luke's sweat-slicked abs, fingers splaying possessively over his ribs as he humped harder, his laughter hot against Luke's neck.
Luke's spine stiffened. "Fuck off," he growled, elbowing backward, but Matt anticipated the move and twisted to avoid the blow while maintaining his ridiculous grinding rhythm. His soft cock bounced against Luke's ass with each thrust.
The videocam's red light blinked steadily from the tripod, capturing every mortifying second. Matt grinned back at the lens. "Say cheese," he purred, then yelped when Luke finally landed a sharp elbow to his ribs.
Matt staggered back, clutching his side dramatically, his oiled chest heaving with laughter. "Worth it," he gasped, pointing at Luke's face. "Your expression is priceless."
Matt's grin widened as his gaze dropped to Luke's slowly chubbing cock, the flushed tip peeking out from his foreskin. "Oh shit," he crowed, nudging Luke's hip with his knee. "You into this or something, Harper?" The videocam's red light blinked mockingly from the tripod, still trained on them.
Luke scowled and shoved Matt away, but the pink flush crawling up his neck betrayed him. "Fuck off," he muttered, turning his back to the camera. His cock twitched against his thigh, stubbornly refusing to completely soften.
Matt snorted, reaching down to adjust himself with theatrical nonchalance. "Dude, we gotta get Mark and Josh in on this," he said, already unclipping the videocam from the tripod. The late afternoon light caught the sweat beading along his collarbones as he hefted the equipment. "Where the fuck did they disappear to anyway?"
Luke shrugged, glancing toward the boathouse. The shadows stretching from its doorway looked almost liquid in the golden-hour glow. "Putting the ergs away, probably. And the oars." He flexed his hands absently, the calluses from years of rowing rough against his palms.
Matt grinned, already jogging backward toward the boathouse, the videocam bouncing against his hip. "Cool. Let's grab 'em." His oiled muscles gleamed under the fading sunlight, every stride making his thighs flex.
Luke rolled his eyes but followed, his bare feet slapping against the sun-warmed dock. The wood creaked under their combined weight as they reached the boathouse door. Matt paused, pressing a finger to his lips with exaggerated seriousness before slowly cracking the door open.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of varnished wood and old sweat. The ergs stood in neat rows along the wall.
The camera's red light blinked steadily as Matt froze in the doorway, his grip tightening on the videocam. From inside the dim boathouse, Luke's voice echoed rough and commanding, "that's it. Take it like you fucking mean it." Matt whipped his head toward Luke behind him, eyes blown wide. He mouthed 'what the fuck?' silently, his oiled chest glistening under the fading sunlight.
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