So, let’s talk about Tristan.
Second-year analyst. Ex-rugby player. Dumb as hell but built like a Greek statue someone gave a protein sponsorship. Always smiling, always talking, always flexing his quads like it was part of the dress code. When he walks past your desk, you hear the thighs. Dress pants tight as fuck. Always adjusting the waistband or rolling up his sleeves like he’s in a Gillette ad. You know the type.
He joined Whitestone Ridge Capital last year. First week he asked if I could recommend a good gym nearby. I told him about the one I go to. Next day? We’re gym buddies. Like that. No warning. Just boom...every evening, he's waiting by the elevator in a tank top and joggers, smirking like we’ve been doing this for years.
He was cocky from day one. Too comfortable too fast. Started calling me “old man” after I told him I’d been here longer. He’s twenty-two. I’m not even 24 yet. But sure. Call me a relic, Tristan. That didn’t stop him from asking me to spot his incline bench every single time. Or making stupid comments like “Dude if I get any thicker, I’m gonna need new pants. Wanna help me stretch these out?” while flexing his glutes like that’s a normal thing to say at 7 PM.
It wasn’t just gym talk. At the office, he’d drop the usual shit. Homophobic jokes wrapped in bro code. Every straight dude here does it. You know the drill. You get told “Suck my dick, bro” at least once a day, casually, in meetings. And yeah, I’ve replied with “Gladly, Bryce, but only if you suck mine first.” Gotta keep it balanced. Keep the game going. That’s the thing...this whole job is theater. You play along or you don’t get invited back on stage.
Anyway. Back to Tristan. You’ll meet Bryce later.
So yeah, whatever jokes Tristan made, I brushed it off. Most of the time. Because he’s hot. Judge me all you want, I’m extra nice to hot men. Hot men make my dick hard. Doesn’t mean I’m not a nice person. I hold the door. I ask about people’s weekends. But you look like that in my office? You get a few passes.
We got into a rhythm. Gym after work. Sometimes brunch on weekends. A few times he came over to pregame before team events. Always casual. Always straight-coded. Until it wasn’t.
There was one night, we’d just wrapped a late trading review. Worked till almost eight. We were both fried. Decided to hit the gym before heading home. Leg day. He was feeling himself, squatting heavy, grunting loud. At one point, he was spotting me, hands on my waist, and slapped my ass when I finished the last set.
“You like that, old man?”
I looked at him. He was grinning. Just stupid and golden and sweat-slicked. I rolled my eyes, said nothing. But yeah, I let it slide. Again.
After the session, we headed to the locker room. Pretty normal routine. We’ve changed next to each other enough times that it wasn’t a thing. All the guys at our firm have seen each other’s asses by now. Some of us even our cocks. It’s not subtle when you’re showering in open stalls or stripping next to someone mid-conversation about hedge ratios. It’s locker room shit. You look and pretend you didn’t.
That night, though, Tristan was taking his sweet time. I’d stripped down to my underwear, still damp with sweat, and was digging in my bag for fresh socks. He was behind me, changing, and then he said it, real low, real casual.
“Not bad for an old man,” he said. “Still got an ass.”
I froze. Turned around. He was in his briefs, hugging everything, and yeah, he was semi-hard. Not subtle. His cock was halfway up his thigh. He didn’t even try to hide it. He just smirked and looked at me like I was the one being weird.
I walked over to him.
Still in my underwear. Still damp. Still half-hard from that workout and all the shit he’d been saying.
I pushed him back against the locker, one hand on his chest. The thud echoed. His eyes didn’t change. Didn’t flinch. Just smirked wider.
“You like that, old man?” he repeated.
I leaned in. Real close. Felt the heat off his skin. His breath was steady.
“You’re gonna keep saying that till I shut you up?” I asked.
He grabbed me by the waistband of my underwear. Palmed my balls. Bold as fuck. Cocky smile on his face.
Then he laughed. “Why are you hard, Dan?” he said, like he was curious. Like this was a joke we were both in on. “This turning you on? Being so close to me?”
I didn’t blink. Didn’t step back.
“Maybe it is, Tristan,” I said. “You gonna suck it? Or you a pussy?”
He licked his lips. I watched his jaw twitch.
“Why are you hard, Dan?” Tristan said, like he was curious. Like this was a joke we were both in on. “This turning you on? Being so close to me?”
“Maybe it is, Tristan,” I said. “You gonna suck it? Or you a pussy?”
He licked his lips. I watched his jaw twitch.
“I ain’t no fucking pussy,” he muttered, still holding my dick through my briefs. “I ain’t gay, man. You’re just... you’re hard. That’s on you.” He laughed under his breath, fingers still tight around me. Like he didn’t know whether to let go or squeeze harder.
“That’s the blood flow,” I said. “Simple biology. Now unless you think you’re gonna like it, I’d suggest you stop hesitating and put it in your mouth.”
He paused. Looked down. Then looked back up, smirking. “Only ‘cause you called me a pussy,” he said. “I got shit to prove.” Then he dropped to his knees. “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing,” he mumbled, staring straight at the bulge in my underwear like it was about to fight him.
I rested both hands lightly on the back of his head. Not pushing. Just there.
“Bro, chill,” I said. “I’ll teach you. Don’t be so precious about it. Be a man and suck it like you mean it.”
He laughed. Nervous. But his fingers curled into the waistband of my briefs and started pulling them down.
“Holy shit, bro. What the fuck. You’re bigger than me,” he muttered. “Don’t tell Karina. I’ve been trying to hit that for weeks.”
“Chill,” I said again, cock springing up as the briefs hit my thighs. “This stays between us. I’ll let you have her. Consider it my gift.”
He wrapped his hand around the base. Hesitated. “Uhh… how do I…”
“Just open your mouth,” I said, stepping in close. “I’ll handle the rest.”
I brought my hips forward slow. Just enough that the head bumped his lips. They parted on instinct.
“Bro,” he said, leaning back slightly. “If you make me choke, I swear to God I’ll bite your dick off.”
I laughed. “Now shut the fuck up and take it. Pussy.”
He opened his mouth wide.
I slid in.
The first few seconds were awkward as hell. He didn’t know what to do with his tongue. Kept pulling back like he was afraid. But I held his head steady. Not rough. Just enough to keep him there.
“That’s it,” I said. “There you go.”
Warmth. Wet. His lips awkward but eager.
He tried bobbing once. Gagged a little.
“Relax your throat,” I said. “No one's filming this.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled around my length. “This is so weird.”
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Use your mouth.”
He groaned and went back to work. The rhythm was messy, but goddamn if it wasn’t hot. Seeing him on his knees. Seeing the muscles in his back flex every time he leaned in. Seeing his hands fumble, unsure whether to touch my thighs or keep them at his sides like this didn’t count if he didn’t use his hands.
I grabbed his jaw. Made him look up at me. “Eyes up, Tristan. You’re already down there. Might as well commit.”
His eyes met mine. Green. Wide. Just slightly glassy. Lips stretched around my dick. I swear to God I almost lost it right then.
He pulled off, panting. My cock wet and shiny. “I’m fucking doing this,” he said, almost to himself. “This is actually happening.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re doing great. Want a gold star?”
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
“That'll happen.. But some other time,” I smirked. “Finish this first.”
He leaned back in. This time, he opened his mouth wider. Took more slowly. I could feel the tension in his shoulders relax, just a little. Like something in him had clicked. He was still clumsy, but more confident this time. I guided his pace with soft thrusts. Nothing too deep yet. Just enough to feel the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his lips.
I ran a hand through his hair. Not because I needed to, but because I wanted to feel it. And the second I did, he made this low sound in his throat.
“You moan for dick now, Tristan?” I teased.
He shook his head fast, cheeks pink.
“Bro,” he said when he pulled off again, spit trailing from his lips. “Shut up. Just tell me when you’re close.”
“Why?” I said, stroking slowly in front of him. “You want some protein? We just worked out. It’ll help with gains.”
He gave me a look. Then laughed.
“Fuck it,” he said. “Let’s finish this.”
He went back down like he meant it.
And I let him. This time, I let the thrusts go deeper. He grunted. Choked once. Didn’t stop. Hands planted firm on my thighs now, holding himself steady like he was riding a set of squats.
The sounds got messier. The air thicker. My grip tightened in his hair.
“Fuck, Tristan,” I groaned. “You sure you ain’t gay?”
He gave me the finger without letting go.
That’s when I knew he was close to breaking. Not in a bad way. In the way that told me he’d think about this every time he closed his eyes for the next week. That every locker room joke was going to hit different from now on.
I was close.
“Coming,” I said, breath shallow. “Don’t move. Take it like a fucking man.”
He tensed. But didn’t pull away.
I grabbed his head and held it in place.
Then I came.
Deep.
Hard.
Hot down his throat.
He gagged once but stayed there.
Didn’t spit.
Didn’t move.
His fingers flexed on my thighs like he was fighting instinct. When I finally let go, he pulled off slowly, coughed once, then swallowed with a wince.
“Fuck.”
He wiped his mouth..“If you tell this shit to Karina,” he said, dead serious, “I’m going to fucking kill you. I swear to God, Dan.”
I laughed, still catching my breath. “Chill, bro,” I said. “This stays between us.”
He got up, cheeks flushed, eyes still a little glassy. Looked at me like he didn’t know whether to punch me or suck me off again.
“Next time,” he said, “you’re buying the fucking protein shake.”
“Deal.”
We finished changing in silence after that.
But the next day, back at the office, I caught him glancing at me. Twice. One was when I bent over to pick up a file. The other was when I licked hummus off my thumb during lunch.
Both times?
He looked away the second I met his eyes.
But yeah. The damage was done.
_
Next Up: Bryce. The one who jokes about me sucking his dick during team meetings.
Let’s just say... sometimes, I don’t mind keeping the joke going.
DanXWrites: If you’re enjoying these stories, I share a lot more erotica on Patreon , including all the future parts of this story already released on there. Feel free to check it out
