With a sudden kick, Matt shoved the boathouse door wide open. The metal hinges shrieked in protest as he sauntered inside, the videocam's red light blinking steadily. "Now where was my invitation to this sausage fest?" he announced, his voice dripping with exaggerated offense. The camera panned wildly as he gestured toward Josh and Mark, still tangled together, Mark's thighs trembling where they bracketed Josh's hips. "I wouldn't partake," Matt continued, wrinkling his nose theatrically, "but an invite is always nice."
Behind him, Luke's shadow stretched long across the concrete floor, his silhouette sharp against the fading sunlight, arms crossed tight over his chest. He stepped forward, his jaw clenched tight. "Yeah," he chimed in, his voice gruff. His fingers flexed against his biceps, the tendons in his forearms standing out under sun-browned skin. "How long's this been happening, homos?"
Josh yelped and scrambled to cover himself, his thighs clamping together with a wet slap. Mark, on the other hand, barely flinched. He just rolled his shoulders in a slow, deliberate stretch, his pecs flexing under sweat-slick skin. A lazy grin curled his lips as he locked eyes with Matt, the challenge in his gaze unmistakable. "Long enough," he drawled, his voice rough from exertion. His abs rippled as he shifted his weight, still half-hard against his thigh and glistening under the dim boathouse light.
Matt whooped, swinging the videocam to capture Josh's flustered expression, then back to Mark's unbothered smirk. "Jesus, Mark," he crowed, zooming in on the smear of cum still drying on Mark's collarbone. "You look like you just walked out of a porn set."
Josh groaned, shoving a hand through his damp hair. "Delete that footage," he hissed, scrambling for his discarded shorts. His thighs shone with sweat, his cock twitching against his stomach as he moved, still half-hard and wet from Mark’s spit. "Seriously, Matt-"
Mark chuckled, deep and unfazed, rolling his shoulders again. The muscles in his back shifted under his skin, the curve of his spine flexing as he arched slightly, showing off. "Why?" he purred, tilting his head toward Josh. His grin sharpened, teeth glinting. "We're hot."
Matt’s grin was electric, his fingers tightening around the videocam as he swung it back toward Mark and Josh. "Oh, we are so monetizing this," he announced, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The camera wobbled as he gestured wildly with his free hand. "Think about it. Private subscriptions, pay-per-view, merch, right?" He zoomed in on Mark’s smirk, then panned down to capture the mess still glistening on Josh’s abs. "I’ll direct, you two just keep doing... whatever this is."
Josh’s face twisted in horror. He lunged for the camera, but Matt danced backward, cackling. "Nuh-uh, stud," Matt taunted, wagging a finger. "You signed the moral rights away the second you stuck your dick in him." He jerked his chin toward Mark, who was now leaning against the erg machine with his arms crossed, watching the chaos with amused detachment. The late sunlight caught the sweat drying along his collarbones, the remnants of Josh’s cum still smeared across his chest.
Luke, silent until now, stepped forward. His jaw was tight, his voice low and rough. "You’re not seriously-"
"Dead serious," Matt interrupted, flipping the camera around to film his own face. He widened his eyes dramatically. "Episode one, stay tuned for more." The lens refocused as he swung it back toward Mark. "So, Marky Mark, how’d you and Josh here get started? Secret locker room rendezvous? Midnight erg sessions?"
Mark's grin widened as he locked eyes with Luke, his dark gaze sharpening with something predatory. "Yeah," he rumbled, voice rough like gravel, "something like that." His fingers flexed against his biceps, deliberately drawing attention to the way his muscles tensed.
Josh's head snapped toward Mark, his damp curls bouncing. "What?" he hissed, shoving at Mark's shoulder. "This was literally the first time-" His protest cut off as Mark casually caught his wrist, pinning it against the erg machine with effortless strength. The contrast between them was stark, Josh's lean frame dwarfed by Mark's heavyweight build, his golden skin flushed under Mark's grip.
Josh's fingers tightened around Mark's wrist, his knuckles whitening as he yanked free from the heavyweight's grip. "Bullcrap," he spat, his voice cracking as he rounded on Luke with wild eyes. "You two have definitely been fucking. Don't even." He jabbed a finger at Mark's smirking face, then whipped back toward Luke. "You- that whole act? Like you're disgusted? Fuck you."
Matt's videocam stuttered in his grip, the autofocus whirring frantically as he swung between their faces. "Holy shit," he breathed, zooming in on Luke's clenched jaw, the vein pulsing at his temple. The camera panned to Mark, still leaning against the erg like a fucking king on his throne, his grin all teeth. "Wait. Wait. Are you?" Matt's voice pitched higher, his free hand flailing. "Luke?"
Luke's throat worked. He didn't deny it.
Mark chuckled, deep and slow, rolling his shoulders until the muscles in his chest flexed under drying sweat. His gaze never left Luke's. "Come on, nothing to be embarrassed by," he murmured, voice thick with amusement. His thumb swiped lazily at the cum still streaked across his abs. "We're hot."
Matt let out a long, exaggerated whistle, stepping between Luke and Josh with his videocam still rolling. "Alright, simmer down, Tiger," he drawled, nudging Josh back with his elbow while keeping the lens trained on Luke's tense shoulders. "You're not seeing the bigger picture here." He swung the camera toward Mark, who was now lazily leaned up against the erg, his smirk unwavering. "Do you have any idea how much bank we could make selling this shit? Elite college rowers going at it like rabbits? We're sitting on a goldmine."
Matt’s grin stretched wider as he swung the videocam toward Josh, zooming in on his horrified expression. "We'll start slow," he announced, tapping the camera lens like he was adjusting focus, the red recording light had been blinking steadily the whole time. "Solo jerk sessions first. Build up the audience’s appetite." He waggled his eyebrows, the camera wobbling as he gestured toward Josh’s still-damp torso. "Then we escalate to handjobs, blowjobs, maybe some creative use of some of this equipment"
Josh exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his damp curls. The initial horror in his eyes flickered into something more calculating as Matt's words settled. "How much money are we talkin’?" he asked, voice quieter now, edged with reluctant curiosity.
Matt's grin turned wolfish. He swung the camera toward Josh's face, zooming in on the exact moment greed overtook embarrassment. "Imagine winning the lotto," he murmured, tilting the lens to catch the way Josh's throat worked as he swallowed. "But instead of scratch-offs, it's your dick on camera."
Josh's shoulders tensed, then relaxed incrementally in a slow, deliberate uncoiling. His gaze flicked to Mark, who was still leaning against the erg machine, idly thumbing at the drying mess on his stomach. "...Fuck," Josh muttered, but it lacked conviction. His fingers twitched at his sides, then curled into loose fists.
Mark chuckled, low and knowing. He pushed off the erg in one fluid motion, his heavy footsteps echoing in the boathouse as he closed the distance between them. "I just wanna fuck, man," he rumbled, clapping a hand on Josh's shoulder. His thumb brushed the sensitive hollow behind Josh's collarbone, deliberate. "Money’s a bonus."
Luke made a strangled noise in his throat. His knuckles were white where they gripped the doorframe, his biceps flexing under the strain of holding himself still. Matt's camera swung toward him instantly, the autofocus whirring as it captured the flush creeping up Luke's neck.
Josh exhaled sharply through his nose. "Okay," he said suddenly, shrugging Mark's hand off with a jerk of his shoulder. "Okay, but," he pointed at Matt's camera, his finger trembling slightly. "We set rules. No faces in the first batch. Just... blur em." His other hand gestured vaguely at his own face, still gleaming with sweat under the dim light.
Matt grinned, flipping the videocam shut with a decisive click. "Sure. Couldn't have scripted this better," he announced, slapping the device against his palm like a baton. The late afternoon sun caught the sweat drying on his collarbones as he stretched, rolling his shoulders. "I'll brainstorm some concepts tonight. We’ll keep it tasteful." He winked, already backing toward the door. "I'll see you studs at practice tomorrow, bright and goddamn early. Don't be late, superstars."
The boathouse door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off the wooden rafters. Silence pooled in his absence, thick and syrupy.
Josh cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His shorts were balled up in one hand, his cock half-hard and glistening in the fading light. He glanced at Luke, his jaw clenched and arms crossed tight over his chest, and then at Mark, who lounged against the erg like a satisfied predator.
"Yeah, so," Josh muttered, scrubbing a hand through his damp curls. "I'm... gonna go." He jerked his chin toward the door, took two steps, paused. "Shower. Definitely need a shower."
Neither Luke nor Mark moved.
Josh exhaled sharply through his nose and bolted, the door banging shut behind him like a gunshot.
Mark chuckled, low and rough. He rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his chest shifting under drying sweat. "Well," he drawled, pushing off the erg in one lazy motion. His cock swung heavy between his thighs, still half-hard. "That happened."
Luke's throat worked. He uncrossed his arms with deliberate slowness, flexing his fingers at his sides. The fading light cut through the dusty air, painting stripes across Mark's torso across the smeared remnants of Josh's cum and the sweat-darkened trail of hair leading down from his navel.
Mark took a step forward. Then another. His bare feet made no sound on the concrete. "You gonna say something," he murmured, "or just stand there looking constipated?"
Luke's jaw tightened. "Fuck you," he muttered, but there was no heat in it, just a rough scrape of sound, like oars dragging through gravel.
Mark grinned. He stopped just shy of Luke's space, close enough that Luke could feel the heat radiating off him. "Already did," he said, tilting his head. His dark eyes flicked down Luke's body, lingering on the tented fabric of his shorts. "If I recall correctly."
Luke's breath hitched. He didn't back down. "You're such an asshole."
Mark shrugged, rolling his shoulders until his pecs flexed. "Yeah." He stepped closer, crowding Luke against the doorframe. The wood dug into Luke's spine, sharp and unyielding. Mark's thigh brushed his, deliberate. "But you like it."
Luke exhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers twitched at his sides, curling into fists before relaxing. "I don't like shit," he lied.
Mark laughed, low and knowing. His hand came up, fingers skimming Luke's hipbone. "Bullshit," he murmured. His thumb hooked into Luke's waist, tugging just enough to make Luke's breath catch. "You're still hard."
Luke's pulse stuttered. He could feel Mark's cock pressing against his thigh, thick and half-hard. "So?" he challenged, lifting his chin. "Doesn't mean anything."
Luke bit his tongue, tasting copper. The boathouse air smelled like river water and sweat, the wood creaking softly under their weight. Mark's breath hit his collarbone, warm and uneven.
Mark pulled away with a sharp inhale, his grip loosening from Luke’s hips. The sudden absence of his touch left Luke’s skin prickling, the ghost of Mark’s fingers lingering like a brand. Mark dragged a hand through his sweat-damp hair, exhaling through his nose before meeting Luke’s gaze. "Maybe we need to talk," he said, voice rough but deliberate. "Set some ground rules."
Mark’s fingers flexed against his hips before he let go entirely, stepping back to give Luke space. The afternoon light caught the sweat drying along his collarbones, the smeared remnants of Josh’s cum still glistening on his abs. "Dude," he said, voice low but unyielding, "you're obviously pissed that Josh and I fucked." His dark eyes held Luke’s, unflinching. "We never said we couldn’t fuck other people."
Luke exhaled sharply through his nose, his shoulders tensing. The boathouse air felt thick, stagnant. He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching in the damp strands at his temples. "Yeah," he muttered finally, jaw working. "I know. It’s fine." He glanced away, toward the overturned shell propped against the far wall. "Just surprised, that’s all."
Mark’s chuckle was quiet, rough at the edges. "Yeah," he said, but there was no bite to it. He leaned back against the erg machine, the wood creaking under his weight. His thighs spread lazily, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. "You looked like you wanted to murder Josh when you walked in."
Luke’s throat tightened. He could still see Josh’s fingers wrapped around Mark’s cock and the way Mark’s head had tipped back, his throat exposed. The possessive curl in his gut had been sharp enough to taste. "Maybe," he admitted grudgingly, flexing his fingers at his sides. "But it’s not like we’re dating."
Mark snorted, rolling his shoulders. His pecs flexed under drying sweat. "Yeah," he agreed easily. "That doesn't sound like us." His smirk widened when Luke flipped him off.
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the boathouse windows. Luke swallowed hard, his pulse jumping when Mark’s thumb swiped lazily at the mess across his torso.
Mark tilted his head, studying Luke with dark, knowing eyes. "So," he murmured, voice low and rough. "You wanna punch something, or fuck it out?"
Luke exhaled sharply through his nose and shoved off the doorframe, his shoulders tight with unspent energy. "I don't know what the fuck you're gonna be doing," he muttered, already turning toward the exit, "but I'm getting food and crashing after." The boathouse door creaked violently under his grip as he shouldered it open, the waning sunlight hitting his sweat-damp skin like a physical slap.
Behind him, Mark barked a laugh, half amused and half exasperated. "Wait up, bro," he called, his heavy footsteps thudding against the concrete as he lunged after Luke. "I'm coming, fuck, I'm starving too." His voice dropped into a mocking whine on the last word, the same tone he used when Coach made them do extra power strokes.
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