The first Monday of the month always felt like a low hum in my chest. Papers shuffled, emails pinged, coffee machines hissed, and the office buzzed with that familiar mix of ambition and exhaustion. But today carried an extra layer of tension, a low thrum that made my skin crawl and pulse at the same time. The firm had hired a new contractor for one of the high-profile projects, and I was assigned to work with him. Not just assigned, but to shadow, assist, and collaborate closely.
I had heard whispers in the break room before I ever met him. They said he was big, alpha, a guy named Dominic, built like someone who expected to get his way. Normally, I ignored gossip. People came and went, and I was too focused on deadlines to care. But something about the way everyone deferred around him, without realizing, sent an uneasy thrill down my spine.
I walked into the conference room, notebook clutched tightly in my hands, and froze. He was already there, leaning over the table just enough for his presence to fill the space. Broad shoulders stretched beneath a crisp polo, thick chest hair showing faintly against the fabric, forearms strong and lightly hairy. His beard was scruffy but neat, framing a sharp jawline, and dark eyes swept the room. Black hair, slightly slicked from the commute, clung to his scalp.
I felt my chest tighten…not just from intimidation, but from something I could not name. My stomach fluttered and my hands shook slightly. I had never looked at a man this way before. Never thought about a man like this. And yet, here I was, noticing the curve of his shoulders, the tension in his forearms, the small way his hands rested on the table. Something about it made my mind wander in ways I could not understand.
“Jesse, right?” His voice cut through my thoughts. Low, calm, with an undeniable authority. “I’m Dominic. They said I’d be working with you on this project.”
“Y-yes,” I stammered, heat rising in my face. “Hi, Dominic. Looking forward to it.”
He gave a small smile, leaning back slightly, and that’s when I noticed the shoes. Heavy, scuffed leather, damp from the rain outside. Almost casually, he slipped them off, revealing thick socks, slightly worn, faintly smelling of the day’s work. And instantly, my senses went haywire.
The scent hit me in waves. Musky, earthy, slightly salty with sweat, undeniable. My stomach tightened, a warmth spreading through me. My cock twitched, betraying me, and I let out a nervous laugh. “Wow… that is STRONG.”
Dominic's chuckle was low, amused, but not mocking. “Sorry about that. Should I put them back on?”
“No, no,” I said quickly, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”
He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing just slightly, and I felt like he was looking straight through me. My nostrils flared unconsciously, my jeans tight without me realizing it. My hands itched to grab something, anything, to steady myself. “Focus on the project, Jesse,” I muttered silently in my head, but his presence loomed, larger than the room itself.
Dominic leaned over a diagram I had laid out, his forearm brushing mine. Warmth, faintly damp from sweat, pressed against my skin. My stomach lurched. My cock pulsed again, my throat went dry, and I had to force myself to look back at the paper instead of at his arm.
Then, as if to remind me of his dominance, he stretched, and I caught a glimpse of his armpit. Hair thick, slightly damp, the musky aroma stronger this time. My stomach flipped, my cock stirred uncomfortably, and I choked back a shiver. Why is this affecting me? I thought. It’s just a man. A coworker.
I tried to rationalize, tried to focus, but every movement, every subtle flex of muscle, every scent hitting me like a tangible force made my thoughts scatter. I noticed his bicep, the callused skin of his forearms, the rise of chest hair brushing against his polo. My eyes darted away, embarrassed, but the tension in my body refused to ease.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, and the scent changed, richer, thicker, musky. I inhaled without realizing, wanting more. Wanting to be closer. I had never wanted a man like this before. And yet, I did.
“Jesse..buddy..move the blueprint closer to the corner?” His voice was calm, not harsh, but it held authority I could not resist.
I obeyed immediately, hands trembling slightly. My chest flushed, my pulse racing..not from fear, but from something deeper. I leaned closer than necessary, aligning the paper perfectly, wanting his notice, his approval.
A small chuckle escaped him. “Good. Just keep it like that.”
My face burned. Confusion, shame, arousal, all tangled together. Why did his approval feel so… thrilling? I had never felt like this around a man, not consciously. And yet, my body ached to obey, to submit, to be beneath him in some way I could not name.
Time stretched. He moved again, brushing his arm against mine. Damp, warm, sticky from sweat. My cock twitched again despite my best effort to hide it. I focused on numbers, angles, anything to keep my mind from unraveling, but every glance, every lean, every motion made me ache for him.
Then he did it again. Without warning, he slipped off his socks. The musky, earthy, salty scent hit me instantly, heavier than before. My stomach clenched, a shiver ran down my spine. My ears heated, breath shallow. I am a man… why is this so erotic? I thought, panic and thrill warring inside me.
He caught my glance and raised a brow. “Everything okay, buddy?”
I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yes, sir. Totally fine.”
But my body was betraying me. Cock straining slightly against my jeans, heart hammering, cheeks flushed. Every twitch, every shiver, every inhalation of his scent made me feel both embarrassed and exhilarated.
I found myself leaning slightly closer whenever he spoke, lingering when he adjusted diagrams, tracing the line of his forearms, the dark edges of chest hair, the sheen of sweat. My body reacted before my mind could catch up.
And then a dangerous, thrilling realization hit me: I wanted his approval, his attention, not just professionally, but… personally. Silly, impossible, shameful. But undeniable. My body ached for him. For his presence, for the way he made me feel small, exposed, eager to obey.
I froze again as he stretched back, bare feet, the rich scent of leather and sweat hanging in the air, crawling under my skin, pooling low in my stomach. Every nerve screamed at me to move closer, to inhale deeper, to submit without knowing how. My eyes drifted back to the shoes, to the damp socks, to him…the way his presence alone made me ache.
What is happening to me? I thought, heart hammering, cock straining, cheeks burning. I have never wanted a man like this before. Never. And yet… I want him. I want all of him. And I have no idea how to stop it.
____
Fridays always carried a different energy in the office, but this one felt heavier, charged in a way I could not explain. I kept finding my gaze drawn to Dominic, the new contractor. The firm had put us together on the same high-profile project, and I had no choice but to shadow him, help him, and absorb every motion, every gesture. My notebook in hand, I tried to focus on the technical details…the blueprints, the specifications, the schedules but he loomed over me in ways that made concentration impossible.
The first thing he did when he arrived was kick off his shoes again. I had been bracing myself, half expecting the pungent, musky hit of his socks to make me recoil, but instead, I found myself breathing it in without realizing. It was thick, rich, a mix of sweat, leather, and something uniquely him. My stomach flipped, heat pooling low in my chest.
“Sorry man,” he said casually, glancing at me. “I hate shoes. My feet get too sweaty, too confined. I have to keep taking them off. I apologize if it bothers you.”
I tried to suppress the shiver that ran down my spine at the way he leaned back, stretching just enough to reveal the smooth curve of his calves under his slacks, and the faint damp of his socks clinging to his feet. “No, no,” I said quickly, forcing a laugh. “It’s… fine. Honestly. It reeks, but it’s fine.”
He raised an eyebrow at the word “reeks” and smirked. “Strong opinion there, Jesse. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum,” he said, but his tone held amusement, a subtle tease that made my heart skip.
And then he did something that almost made me drop my pen. He stretched over the table to reach a stack of papers, arms rising above his head. The polo rode slightly with the motion, revealing thick, dark armpit damp with sweat. The smell hit me instantly…heavier this time, raw, earthy, intoxicating. It made my chest tighten and my cock twitch against my jeans. My mind scrambled to rationalize, but I could not. Every inhale made my head spin. Why does this feel so… fucking good?
“Sorry about that,” he said, lowering his arms and leaning back. “I sweat a lot. Hairy. Always have been. Not much I can do.”
I found myself smiling without realizing it. “It’s… it’s fine,” I muttered, and the words felt absurd on my tongue. It’s more than fine, my mind added in a rush. It’s… captivating. I want it. I want all of it.
He glanced at me, a dark glimmer of awareness in his eyes. I flushed, looking down at my notebook, pretending to be absorbed in the lines and angles. But the moment he reached again, brushing my arm as he adjusted the papers, my cock pulsed once, urgently. My breathing caught, my stomach tightened, and I had to bite back a soft groan.
I hated that I was reacting this way. Hated that the smell of his armpit, the damp heat of his skin, the presence of him so close made me ache. Yet every time he shifted, leaned, flexed, I found myself moving slightly closer, leaning in, just enough to be near the scent, to feel the warmth radiating from his body. I am a man. I should not want another man. And yet…
Dominic caught me glancing at his arm again, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know,” he said casually, “most people move away when I sweat this much. You seem… different.”
I swallowed hard. “I… I guess I’m… not bothered,” I stammered, cheeks flushing hotter than ever. Not bothered? My body is betraying me. My cock is hard because of his scent. I am… mesmerized.
He leaned closer, just enough to let the scent wash over me again. His forearm brushed mine briefly, warm, slightly sticky from sweat, and I flinched, a thrill running through me. He noticed. I knew he noticed. And yet, he said nothing more, only sat back and tilted his head, watching me with that calm, deliberate gaze.
The workday wore on, but the tension never let up. Every time he moved, stretched, leaned over the table, the smell of him..the rich, musky sweat, the faint leather from his shoes, the earthy scent of his hair..made me shiver. I found myself wanting to lean closer, wanting to inhale deeper, wanting… I did not know what, but it was impossible to ignore.
Even the small, mundane moments carried weight. When he asked me to grab a cup of coffee from the break room, I obeyed instantly, fumbling slightly as my hands shook. The moment I handed him the cup, his fingers brushed mine. Warm. Slightly damp from his own hand sweat. And the smell..oh, fuck, the smell was intoxicating. I felt dizzy, flushed, my cock straining against the jeans I had thought were hiding it well.
“Careful with that,” he said, low and calm, his tone carrying authority without demanding it. “Not like you were going to drop it, but…” He let the thought hang. I nodded, swallowing hard, feeling my pulse spike. I am a mess. And he knows it.
Later, back at the table, he leaned over once more to point at a detail on the blueprint. I could feel his chest brushing lightly against my shoulder, the faint damp of sweat, the heat radiating off him. I inhaled unconsciously, catching the subtle, earthy musk of his armpit again, the lingering scent of shoes and socks from earlier. My mind spun. My body ached to obey, to move, to lean closer, to submit in some way I had never experienced.
And then he said it, softly, casually, as if testing the waters: “Jesse, can you double-check these measurements for me? Right now. I want them precise.”
I nodded quickly, obeying without hesitation. My hands trembled as I adjusted the papers. My chest burned with heat, my cock throbbed. I realized, with a jolt, that I was already craving these little commands, this subtle dominance, this quiet authority.
By the afternoon, I found myself watching him stretch again, lifting his arms, revealing more damp armpit hair, inhaling deeper than I had any right to. I wanted more. Wanted to be near it, close to it, intoxicated by it. My mind raced, and yet I followed his directions instantly, grabbed coffee, organized papers, adjusted blueprints, anything to be near him, under his notice.
It was when he leaned back in his chair, removing his shoes for the third time after his bathroom break, that I realized how hopelessly addicted I was to him. The rich, musky scent of leather, sweat, and his thick socks filled my senses. My stomach churned, my cock throbbed, my mind was a haze of desire and confusion.
The hours slipped by. Every glance, every subtle brush of his arm, every movement of his damp, muscled body was intoxicating. I caught myself inhaling the scent of his armpits when he stretched, lingering a moment too long near his shoes, watching the curve of his bicep, the dark line of chest hair under his shirt. My body betrayed me over and over, pulsing, twitching, craving, and I obeyed every direction he gave without hesitation.
As the day drew to a close, he gathered his things. Shoes back on, jacket slung over his broad shoulders, he glanced at me with a faint smirk. “Buddy, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Wanna come home for some drinks? Maybe we can finish discussing these blueprints. I have some… ideas.”
My chest tightened, a mixture of fear, desire, and anticipation coursing through me. My pulse pounded in my ears. Do I… go? I thought, heart hammering. My eyes flicked to his shoes again, the faint leather scent still lingering in the room, a magnetic pull I could not resist. The thought of being near him, under his notice, maybe even closer, made my cock pulse once more.
I nodded slowly, words caught in my throat. “I… yeah, I can. Sure.”
Dominic's smirk widened just slightly, that small curve of his lips making my stomach twist. “Good. Let’s see where this goes then.”
As he started gathering his things, I felt the subtle weight of anticipation coil in my chest. His eyes flicked to his bag sitting on the corner of the desk. “Jesse,” he said, voice low but firm, “grab my bag for me.”
I didn’t hesitate. My hands moved quickly, almost automatically, lifting the bag, feeling its weight against my chest, my heart hammering with something I could not name. He watched me as I slung it over my shoulder, dark eyes appraising me, the faint scent of his sweaty polo and shoes lingering in the air, making my pulse spike.
“Careful with that,” he added, smirking again. “It’s a bit heavy with my laptop”
I followed without a word, my legs moving in rhythm with his, every step drawing me closer to him, closer to the unknown. The office faded behind us…the hum of fluorescent lights, the shuffle of papers, the distant chatter of coworkers and all I could think about was him. His scent, his dominance, the way my body reacted without permission.
The elevator ride was silent except for the faint thud of our shoes against the metal floor. I felt exposed and exhilarated, carrying his bag, obeying him without hesitation, utterly aware that I was falling deeper into whatever this was.
“Good,” he said finally as we stepped out onto the street. “Now let’s continue this at my place. I have some ideas I want to run by you.”
I nodded, my chest tight, fingers gripping the strap of his bag. The city air did nothing to clear the haze that had settled over me. Every step toward his car, every glance at him, made my body pulse with anticipation and longing. I was his, in a small, immediate way already, and I knew I would obey anything he asked.
As we got in, the faint musky scent clung to me like a promise. I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering. I have no idea what I am walking into. And I want it.
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