The elevator smelled like stale coffee and disinfectant. Leo pressed the button for the twelfth floor, shifting his gym bag on his shoulder.
"Third time this week we’ve bumped into each other," a voice said beside him. Leo glanced over. The guy leaning against the mirrored wall wore faded gray sweatpants and a tight black tee that showed off thick shoulders. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. "You live in this death trap too?"
"Apartment 1208," Leo managed, throat suddenly dry. He’d seen those intense brown eyes glaring back from the weight rack reflection yesterday. "Leo."
"Ben. 1210." The elevator shuddered upward. Ben’s gaze flicked to Leo’s worn running shoes, then back to his face. A beat too long. Silence thickened between them, broken only by the cables groaning overhead. Leo watched Ben’s knuckles whiten around his own duffel strap.
Finally, the elevator dinged and the doors parted. They stepped out onto the beige hallway carpet. Leo fumbled with his keys near the fire extinguisher as Ben walked toward his own door. Neither spoke. Leo heard Ben’s key scrape the lock—once, twice—before the click echoed down the hall. He didn’t look back. Leo exhaled, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of his doorframe. His pulse still hammered against his ribs like it did during deadlifts.
The gym smelled of rubber mats and old sweat when Leo arrived Tuesday morning. Ben was already there, methodically loading plates onto a barbell. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle as he bent to tighten the collars. Leo started his treadmill run, stealing glances between strides. Ben’s reflection watched him between sets—brief, deliberate eye contact in the smudged mirror before looking away.
Thursday’s rain lashed the gym windows. Leo found Ben alone at the cable machine, veins standing stark on his temples as he pulled. When their hands brushed reaching for the same spray bottle, Ben jerked back like he’d been burned. "You take it," he muttered, wiping his face with his shirt hem instead. The glimpse of a taut stomach made Leo’s throat tighten. He sprayed the vinyl bench too thoroughly, the chemical scent sharp in his nostrils.
That night, Leo heard muffled bass through the wall separating 1208 from 1210. He pressed his palm flat against the plaster. The thumping rhythm vibrated up his arm. He imagined Ben pacing barefoot on the other side, maybe staring at the same cracked ceiling. When the music cut abruptly, Leo snatched his hand back. The silence felt heavier than the noise.
Saturday dawned brittle-cold. Leo spotted Ben hunched over the mailboxes in the lobby, sorting envelopes with stiff fingers. A glossy wedding invitation slipped from Ben’s stack. Leo caught it mid-air, their knuckles grazing. "Thanks," Ben mumbled, not meeting his eyes. The envelope showed a grinning couple under palm trees. "My cousin. Florida." He stuffed it away like contraband.
The gym was empty Sunday evening. Ben stood frozen before the rack, shoulders tight. Leo approached slowly, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Spot you?" The words hung between them. Ben’s jaw worked silently before he gave a sharp nod. When Leo’s fingers hovered over Ben’s hips during the final rep, heat radiated through thin fabric. Ben dropped down, panting. "Appreciate it." He didn’t move away. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Monday’s rain returned, sheeting down the gym windows. Ben lingered by the water fountain long after his bottle filled. Leo wiped down the lat pulldown machine beside him. "Heard your music Thursday," Leo said. The spray bottle hissed. Ben froze. "It’s just classic rock," he finally said, staring at the drain. "My favorite." A droplet traced the tense line of Ben’s neck. Leo watched it disappear beneath his collar.
Wednesday morning, Ben slid onto the bench press beside Leo’s treadmill. "Need a spot? Trade you." Ben asked, eyes fixed on the rack. Leo slowed the belt. "Yeah," he breathed. Ben’s palms hovered close as Leo pushed through his last rep, not touching, but Leo felt the warmth. Afterward, Ben lingered, wiping chalk from his hands. "You lift well," he noted. "Great form." Leo’s pulse skipped. "Trying not to blow out a disc before thirty," he joked. Ben’s laugh was low, unexpected.
Friday evening, Ben’s gray shorts clung to his thighs as he finished a brutal set of squats. Sweat soaked through the fabric, turning it sheer. Leo paused in the doorway, his gym bag heavy on his shoulder. The fluorescent light caught the dark outline of Ben’s jockstrap beneath the damp cotton. Leo swallowed hard. "Ben," he called out, voice tight. Ben turned, chest heaving. "Your shorts," Leo gestured weakly. "They’re… transparent." Ben glanced down, face flushing crimson. "Shit." He grabbed his towel. "Changing room?" Leo nodded, throat dry. "I’ll join you. Gotta to ditch my work clothes."
They walked side by side down the narrow hall, the air thick with unspoken tension. Ben’s knuckles brushed Leo’s as he pushed open the locker room door. Inside, the scent of steam and cheap soap hung heavy. Ben yanked his soaked shirt over his head without looking back. Leo fumbled with his tie, eyes catching the flex of Ben’s shoulders. A bead of sweat traced Ben’s spine before vanishing into his waistband. Leo tore his gaze away, focusing on his own locker’s combination.
Ben hooked his thumbs into the waistband of those gray shorts. The fluorescent lights caught the sweat-slicked curve of his ass. Ben bent to untie his laces, muscles tightening as he leaned forward. The thin strap of the jock dug into his cheeks, framing the tight furl of his hole. Leo’s breath hitched. Ben hooked thumbs into his waistband and shoved the shorts down. They slid down thick thighs, pooling around his ankles. The damp gray fabric pooled around his ankles, and he stepped out, bare except for a black jockstrap, white crew socks, and worn sneakers. The jockstrap rode low on Ben’s hips, revealing the dark trail leading down. He bent to pick his shorts up, the thin straps of his jock digging into the swell of his ass.
Leo’s breath hitched. He watched a drop of sweat slide down Ben’s inner thigh. Ben’s hole was a tight, dark pucker framed by sweat-slicked skin, the muscles flexing as he straightened. Leo watched, transfixed, as Ben tossed the shorts aside and reached for his towel. The jock’s pouch strained against Ben’s thick cock, the outline unmistakable.
Leo’s fingers trembled on his belt buckle. He kicked off his polished oxfords, peeled away his socks, and let his dress pants fall. Standing there in his button-down, he was painfully hard. The thin cotton tented obscenely, the flushed head of his cock peeking from beneath the hem. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
His erection tented the crisp white button-down, the fabric taut against the head. Ben turned, towel slung low on his hips. His eyes dropped to Leo’s bulge, lingering on the damp spot spreading across the shirt.. Leo stood frozen, shirt tails barely covering his thighs. Ben’s throat worked as he swallowed.
The locker room hummed with silence. Neither moved. Ben’s knuckles whitened on the towel. Leo’s pulse thundered in his ears, louder than the distant clank of weights. He took a half-step forward. Ben’s gaze snapped up, meeting Leo’s. The air crackled. Ben’s chest rose and fell, quick and shallow. Leo’s mouth went dry. He could see the rapid flutter of Ben’s pulse at his throat. The space between them felt charged, electric. Leo’s tongue darted over his lower lip. Ben’s eyes tracked the movement.
Silence pulsed between them. Ben’s throat worked. He took a step closer, the rubber soles of his sneakers squeaking on the wet tile. Leo’s knuckles whitened on the locker door. The air crackled. Ben’s gaze dropped again to Leo’s straining erection. "Fuck," Ben breathed, the word rough, almost startled. He didn’t look away. Leo’s pulse hammered against his ribs, loud in the sudden stillness.
He took another step. Just a foot separated them now. The scent of sweat, steam, and Leo’s faint cologne mingled. Ben’s eyes, dark and intense, locked onto Leo’s. His hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing. Leo could see the rapid rise and fall of Ben’s chest, the slight tremor in his jaw. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, a counterpoint to the heavy silence. Leo’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Ben’s gaze followed the movement. He didn’t speak.
Ben’s hand lifted, slow, deliberate. It hovered for a heartbeat above the straining tent of Leo’s shirt. Then, his knuckles brushed the damp cotton. Leo gasped, a sharp intake of breath. Ben’s fingers curled, gently gathering the fabric. He pushed the hem of the shirt aside, peeling it away. Leo’s cock sprang free, thick and flushed, standing rigidly at attention. It pointed straight at Ben, glistening at the tip. Ben exhaled, a ragged sound.
His fingers closed around the shaft. Warm, calloused skin met hot, velvety hardness. Ben’s thumb brushed over the swollen head, smearing the bead of pre-cum. Leo shuddered, a low groan escaping him. Ben’s grip was firm, exploratory. He slid his hand slowly down the length, feeling the prominent vein pulsing beneath the skin, the solid weight. His thumb traced the ridge of the glans, then slid back down. He seemed to be measuring, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. His fingers spanned the thick shaft, gauging its circumference. He gave a slow, experimental stroke, base to tip, his eyes fixed on the curve – a subtle, proud upward bend.
Ben exhaled, a shaky breath Leo felt against his own damp skin. "Jesus," Ben murmured, his voice thick. He kept stroking, a slow, deliberate glide that drew another gasp from Leo. Ben’s other hand came up, not touching Leo’s body yet, but hovering near his hip, fingers trembling slightly. His gaze traced the length again, from the root hidden in dark curls to the flushed, leaking tip. "It’s so long," Ben breathed, almost to himself. "And thick." He squeezed gently, feeling the hardness yield slightly before springing back. "Six inches... maybe more?" His eyes flicked up to Leo’s, seeking confirmation, the intensity in them almost overwhelming.
Leo could only nod, his throat tight. The sensation of Ben’s rough hand moving on him, the focused intensity of Ben’s gaze, the sheer vulnerability of standing exposed – it was dizzying. He watched Ben’s fingers explore the curve, tracing its arc with his thumb, circling the sensitive spot just beneath the head. Ben’s own cock strained against the black pouch of his jockstrap, a damp patch darkening the fabric. The air crackled with the sound of Leo’s ragged breathing and the slick slide of skin on skin. Ben leaned in fractionally, his breath ragged as he continued his slow, maddening exploration.
Without a word, Ben sank to his knees on the cool tile floor. The movement was fluid, deliberate. His broad shoulders filled Leo’s vision, the dark stubble on his jaw stark against the pale skin of his neck. He kept one hand wrapped firmly around the base of Leo’s cock, steadying it. His other hand slid up Leo’s thigh, rough palm against smooth skin, sending a jolt through him. Ben paused, his eyes locked on Leo’s flushed erection, inches from his face. The scent of Leo – salt, musk, and the faint tang of pre-cum – filled Ben’s nostrils. He tilted his head slightly, his lips parting just a fraction. Leo’s fingers instinctively tangled in Ben’s damp hair, not pushing, just holding on.
Ben’s tongue darted out, a tentative, pink point. It touched the swollen head, tracing the slit, gathering the glistening bead of pre-cum. Leo gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily. Ben’s grip tightened, holding him steady. The first touch was electric – hot, wet velvet against hypersensitive skin. Ben’s eyes flicked up, meeting Leo’s wide, dark gaze, holding it as he slowly, deliberately, took the head into his mouth. His lips closed around it, creating a tight seal of heat and pressure. Leo felt the soft suction, the slight scrape of teeth held carefully back, the incredible wet warmth enveloping him. A low groan tore from Leo’s chest, echoing slightly in the tiled room. Ben’s eyelids fluttered shut as he began to move, sinking deeper, taking more of Leo’s length into the tight, welcoming heat of his mouth. His free hand settled on Leo’s hip, anchoring him, guiding the rhythm.
Leo’s fingers, trembling slightly, slid deeper into Ben’s damp, dark hair. It was thick, slightly coarse, smelling faintly of sweat and cheap shampoo. Leo tightened his grip, not forcing, but guiding, feeling the powerful muscles of Ben’s neck work beneath his palm.
At twenty-six, Leo stood a lean six feet tall, his runner’s build evident in the defined ridges of his abdomen visible beneath the rucked-up shirt, the sharp cut of his hip bones, and the long, taut lines of his thighs. His own light blonde hair, cropped short at the sides but slightly longer and tousled on top, was damp with sweat at the temples. His face, usually open and quick to smile, was now etched with intense focus and raw desire, his lips slightly parted as ragged breaths escaped him. He watched Ben kneeling before him, utterly transfixed.
Ben, twenty-four, knelt solidly on the cool tile, his thick, powerful thighs braced wide. The muscles in his calves and quads were sharply defined, cords of strength holding him steady. His torso, bent forward, revealed the deep valleys of a hard-earned six-pack, sweat sheening the sculpted planes that tapered down to the black band of his jockstrap. The straps dug into the heavy swell of his ass, framing the flexed cheeks as he moved. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, emphasizing the focused intensity on his face. His broad shoulders rolled slightly with each slow, deliberate bob of his head, taking Leo deeper, his nose brushing the dark curls at Leo’s base. A low hum vibrated in Ben’s throat, sending shivers up Leo’s spine, the sensation echoing through the cock buried deep in Ben’s mouth.
Leo’s other hand found Ben’s shoulder, feeling the dense muscle bunching beneath sweat-slicked skin. He guided Ben’s rhythm, a slow, steady pull and push, the suction perfect, the wet heat maddening. Ben’s eyes opened again, dark and glazed, looking up at Leo through lowered lashes. The raw vulnerability and hunger there, the absolute surrender to the act, was almost Leo’s undoing. He could feel the tension coiling low in his belly, the pressure building relentlessly. "Ben," he breathed, his voice thick and strained, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly in Ben’s hair. Ben responded with a deeper swallow, his throat muscles working around the head, his tongue swirling expertly beneath the ridge. The locker room faded away, leaving only the slick sounds, the ragged breathing, and the overwhelming, consuming heat.
Ben’s free hand slid around Leo’s hip, gripping the curve of his ass, pulling him incrementally closer. The rough pads of Ben’s fingers dug into Leo’s flesh, possessive and demanding. He took Leo deeper still, until Leo felt the head nudge the back of Ben’s throat. A low, guttural sound escaped Ben, vibrating through Leo’s entire length, a sensation so intense Leo’s knees threatened to buckle. He braced himself against the locker door, the cool metal a stark contrast to the inferno Ben was stoking. Ben’s other hand slid down his own body, palming the thick outline of his own cock straining against the jockstrap pouch, a desperate, unconscious movement.
Leo’s hips began to move of their own accord, shallow thrusts meeting Ben’s descent. The rhythm became frantic, primal. Ben’s throat relaxed, accepting him fully now, the wet slide effortless and deep. Leo could feel the scrape of Ben’s stubble against his lower abdomen, the heat radiating from Ben’s skin, the faint tremor in the hand gripping his ass. The pressure was unbearable, a white-hot wire tightening in his core. "Gonna—" Leo gasped, the warning choked and broken. Ben didn’t pull away. He looked up, holding Leo’s gaze, his eyes wide and dark, urging him on.
Leo’s release hit him like a physical blow, a shuddering wave that ripped a raw cry from his throat. He pulsed deep into Ben’s mouth, each surge wracking his body. Ben held him there, swallowing steadily, his throat working rhythmically, his eyes never leaving Leo’s. The intensity in Ben’s gaze was overwhelming – a mixture of triumph, fierce satisfaction, and something deeper, almost reverent. Only when the last tremor subsided, leaving Leo trembling and spent, did Ben slowly, gently, pull back, his lips releasing Leo with a soft, wet sound. He stayed kneeling for a moment, breathing heavily, a bead of sweat tracing the strong line of his jaw, his own need still painfully evident in the tented black fabric between his legs.
Leo’s legs felt liquid. He slid down the locker door, landing heavily on the cool tile beside Ben. His chest heaved as he reached out, fingers trembling as they traced the damp edge of Ben’s jockstrap where it cut across his hip. The need to see, to touch, was a physical ache. "Your turn," Leo rasped, his voice rough with spent passion. He hooked a finger under the thick elastic band of the jockstrap pouch, feeling the heat radiating from the trapped flesh beneath. "Let me see you." His other hand found Ben’s shoulder, urging him up, guiding him towards the worn wooden bench bolted to the floor.
Ben rose with a low groan, his movements thick with pent-up desire. He let Leo guide him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bench. Leo pushed gently, and Ben sank down onto the hard surface, his powerful thighs falling open wide. The fluorescent light starkly illuminated the strained black pouch, the damp patch dark and prominent. Leo knelt between Ben’s spread legs, his gaze fixed on the jockstrap. His fingers, steadier now, found the side opening of the pouch. He hooked them into the elastic, pulling the fabric aside, freeing the thick, flushed length trapped within. Ben’s cock sprang out, rigid and glistening, curving proudly upwards. A thick vein pulsed along its underside, leading down to heavy, tight balls nestled against the bench.
Leo leaned in, his breath warm on Ben’s skin. "Nice. A solid what? Five and a half inches?" he murmured, his voice rough with awe. He traced the prominent vein with a fingertip, feeling the heat and the thrum of Ben’s pulse beneath the velvety skin. The shaft was thick, solid in his hand, a perfect handful, but undeniably a fraction slimmer than his own. A dense thatch of dark, coarse curls surrounded the base, slightly damp with sweat, the hair wiry against Leo’s knuckles as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. The head, framed by a retracted foreskin, was a deep, ruddy purple, swollen and slick, the slit leaking a steady bead of pre-cum that pooled at the tip. Leo swiped his thumb through it, spreading the slickness, feeling Ben shudder violently beneath his touch.
He began to stroke, a slow, firm glide from root to tip, his thumb circling the swollen ridge beneath the head on every upstroke. Ben’s hips jerked, a choked gasp escaping him. His hands flew to Leo’s shoulders, fingers digging in, anchoring himself as Leo’s rhythm quickened. The locker room filled with the slick, wet sounds of Leo’s hand moving, Ben’s ragged breathing, and the low, involuntary groans rumbling from Ben’s chest. Leo watched Ben’s face – the clenched jaw, the fluttering eyelids, the desperate hunger etched into every line. He bent lower, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of Ben’s inner thigh, tasting salt.
"Leo, wait—" Ben gasped, his voice thick and strained. His fingers tightened on Leo’s shoulders, not pulling him closer, but pushing back slightly. "Someone... could walk in." His eyes darted towards the locker room door, wide with sudden panic beneath the haze of lust. "This building... thin walls... fuck." He tried to push Leo’s head away from his thigh, his movements frantic but weakened by desire. "We can’t—"
Leo didn’t stop. He met Ben’s panicked gaze, his own eyes dark and unwavering. "No one’s coming," he murmured, his voice low and certain against Ben’s skin. He ignored the trembling resistance in Ben’s hands, his grip on Ben’s cock tightening possessively as he resumed the steady, demanding strokes. "It’s just us." He leaned in again, his breath hot on Ben’s straining length, his tongue flicking out to taste the bead of pre-cum welling at the tip. Ben’s protest dissolved into a strangled moan, his head falling back against the locker behind the bench, his body arching helplessly into Leo’s touch, the fear momentarily drowned by overwhelming need.
Leo took him in, swallowing Ben down to the root in one smooth, deep motion. Ben cried out, a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the tiles as Leo’s throat worked around him. Leo’s rhythm was relentless – deep, wet sucks punctuated by the swirl of his tongue along the thick vein beneath the shaft. Ben’s fingers scrabbled against the bench, his hips bucking off the bench, utterly lost in the sensation. Leo hollowed his cheeks, the suction fierce, his free hand gripping Ben’s hip hard enough to bruise, holding him down, holding him in place. Ben’s thighs trembled violently, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. "Leo—fuck—I’m close—" he managed, his voice shredded.
Leo pulled back just as Ben’s body went rigid, his cock pulsing violently. The first thick rope of cum hit Leo squarely on the cheekbone, hot and startling. The next splattered across his lips and chin. More followed, streaking his jaw, his neck, splashing onto the crisp white collar of his dress shirt, the pristine cotton instantly stained with pearly streaks. Leo kept his eyes locked on Ben’s face, watching the ecstasy twist his features, feeling the hot jets land on his skin, his shirt darkening with the evidence. Ben emptied himself onto him, the final pulses landing in sticky strands across Leo’s collarbone.
Silence descended, broken only by Ben’s harsh, gulping breaths and the distant hum of the building’s ventilation. Leo stayed kneeling between Ben’s splayed legs, his face and shirt glistening, his gaze still fixed on Ben’s flushed, dazed face. Ben slowly opened his eyes, blinking as if surfacing from deep water. His gaze traveled down Leo’s ruined shirt, the streaks on his neck and jaw, the intensity in Leo’s eyes. A slow, disbelieving smile touched Ben’s lips, shaky but real. "Christ," he breathed, his voice hoarse.
Leo finally moved. Still on his knees, thighs spread and cock dangling toward the gym floor, he unbuttoned the stained white dress shirt with quick, efficient tugs, peeling it off his shoulders. He didn’t look away from Ben as he balled the fabric up and ran it over his face, wiping away the streaks of cum clinging to his cheekbone, jaw, and chin. The damp cotton left faint streak marks on his skin. He tossed the shirt aside onto the bench beside Ben.
He stood fully then, completely naked under the harsh fluorescent lights. The lean lines of his runner’s build were stark – the sharp cut of his hip bones, the defined ridges of his abdomen, the smooth planes of his chest still flushed pink. His own cock, spent but still thick, rested against his thigh. Sweat sheened his skin, highlighting the dusting of light blonde hair across his chest and trailing down his navel. He looked raw, exposed, yet utterly satisfied.
Turning towards the nearby locker, Leo gathered his discarded clothes – the polished oxfords, the socks, the dress pants, and finally the crumpled, stained shirt. He stuffed them all inside the metal locker with a single, decisive motion, the door clanging shut with a sound that echoed in the quiet room.
Leo laughed then, a low, rich sound that seemed to vibrate in his chest. His spent cock bobbed slightly with the movement as he bent to unzip his gym bag. "Always been a fantasy of mine," he admitted, his voice still rough but laced with amusement as he pulled out fresh compression shorts and a clean t-shirt. "Locker room sex. Ever since high school football." He glanced back at Ben, a faint, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
Ben, still slumped on the bench, jockstrap pulled haphazardly back into place but otherwise exposed, stared at Leo. His eyes widened, flicking from Leo’s naked form holding his tee from the gym bag. "You're... you're still going to work out?" Ben stammered, disbelief thick in his voice. "After... that?"
Leo laughed again, echoing off the tiles. "Of course," he said, smoothing the fabric down. His gaze swept over Ben, still on the bench, flushed and sticky. "Why waste a good pump? Endorphins are kicking in now."
Ben shifted, looking down at his own bare thighs and legs. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Uh, Leo?" His voice was quiet, hesitant. He gestured vaguely towards his feet, then at Leo. "Before you... start lifting again?" He swallowed, avoiding Leo's eyes. "Could you... put only your socks and sneaks back on?" He paused, biting his lip. "With the shirt off." He gestured down at himself – the stark black jockstrap, the white crew socks, his worn sneakers still laced tight. "It's... it looks really hot like that."
Leo paused, the clean t-shirt halfway over his head. He lowered it slowly, a slow, intrigued smile spreading across his face. His eyes traced the lines Ben made – the athletic socks hugging defined calves, the sneakers grounding him, the vulnerable expanse of skin and the jockstrap’s stark framing. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice low. "You like the look?" He dropped the shirt back into his bag and reached for his own white crew socks instead.
He sat on the bench opposite Ben, deliberately close. Leo tugged the white crew socks over his ankles, the fabric stretching taut over the arch of each foot. He kept his gaze locked on Ben as he worked, the deliberate slowness of his movements—the flex of his bicep as he reached for his foot, the shift of lean abdominal muscles as he bent forward—a quiet performance. The high-top sneakers came next, white canvas with pristine white laces. He slipped his feet in, one after the other, but left the laces dangling, untied and loose. The shoes hung open, framing his bare ankles, the contrast stark against his naked skin. Ben watched, transfixed, his own breath catching as Leo settled back, thighs spread.
Leo leaned back against the cool metal lockers, the bench groaning faintly under his weight. He stretched one long leg out, resting his ankle on the opposite knee, letting the open high-top hang precariously. The position pulled the muscles of his thigh taut and offered Ben an unobstructed view—the smooth skin, the curve of his ankle disappearing into the sock, the vulnerable hollow behind his knee, and of course his dick. A faint smirk played on Leo’s lips as he saw Ben’s gaze travel down his leg, lingering on the untied laces brushing the tile. "Better?" Leo asked, his voice a low rumble. He flexed his foot inside the shoe, making the canvas creak. The casual dominance in the pose was undeniable.
Ben swallowed hard, his throat working. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Leo’s feet. The sight of the clean white socks tucked into the high-tops, the laces undone and trailing, against Leo’s otherwise complete nudity, sent a fresh jolt of heat through him. It was absurdly, intensely erotic—the mix of vulnerability and control, the hint of preparation mixed with deliberate disarray. "Yeah," Ben managed, his voice rough. He shifted on his bench, the movement making the worn wood creak.
The silence stretched, thick with the unspoken. Leo’s gaze drifted down Ben’s body, taking in the flush still high on his chest, the damp hair clinging to his temples, the way his powerful thighs tensed where they met the bench. Leo’s own spent cock stirred faintly against his thigh, a lazy echo of the earlier intensity. He kept his foot flexed inside the untied high-top, the sole tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sound echoed softly in the humid air, a counterpoint to Ben’s shallow breathing. Outside the locker room door, the distant clang of a weight being racked drifted in, a reminder of the world just beyond. Neither man moved.
Ben shifted, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the bench. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, traced the faint stirring at Leo’s groin. A slow, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. Without breaking eye contact, Ben hooked his thumbs under the thick elastic waistband of his black jockstrap. He pushed it down his hips, past his thighs, and kicked it off entirely onto the cool tile floor. He sat back, legs falling open wider, completely exposed. His cock, thick and flushed, stood half-hard against his stomach again, twitching visibly under Leo’s intense scrutiny. The sight was raw, potent.
“Here,” Ben murmured, his voice rough but clear. He leaned forward slightly, scooped up the discarded jockstrap, and held it out towards Leo. The black fabric dangled from his fingers, the pouch still faintly damp. “Put it on.” His gaze flicked down to Leo’s stirring cock, then back up, holding Leo’s eyes with a challenge that was equal parts heat and command.
Leo’s breath hitched. He stared at the offered garment, then at Ben’s naked intensity. The air crackled. Slowly, deliberately, Leo lowered his foot from his knee. He stood, the untied laces of his high-tops whispering against the tile. He took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. His fingers brushed Ben’s as he took the warm, slightly damp jockstrap. Without a word, Leo bent, stepping into the leg openings. He pulled the thick elastic up over his thighs, over his hips, the pouch snugging firmly around his own hardening length. He adjusted the straps, the black fabric stark against his pale skin, framing his renewed arousal. He stood tall before Ben, clad only in the jockstrap, white socks, and untied high-tops. The look in Ben’s eyes was pure, unadulterated hunger.
The locker room door creaked open. Both men froze. A newcomer strode in, whistling tunelessly. He was mid-twenties, lean but wiry, with close-cropped dark hair and a sharp jawline dusted with stubble. Dressed in faded grey sweatpants and a loose tank top, he moved with the easy confidence of a regular. He barely glanced their way, heading towards a row of lockers further down. Leo and Ben exchanged a single, panicked look. Ben scrambled silently off the bench, snatching Leo’s discarded compression shorts from his gym bag. Leo grabbed his clean t-shirt. They moved with frantic, silent coordination, turning away from each other, bodies angled towards the lockers. Ben yanked the compression shorts up over his powerful thighs, hiding himself, while Leo pulled the soft cotton tee over his head in one swift motion.
Leo turned back first, forcing casualness. He bent to tie his high-tops, fingers fumbling slightly. Ben, now hidden in Leo’s tight black compression shorts, was pulling on his own plain white tee. It clung slightly to his damp chest. The newcomer, oblivious, rummaged in his locker, pulling out shorts and a towel. Leo straightened, smoothing his tee. "Nice seeing you, headed out for my set." he told Ben, his voice deliberately normal, pitched just loud enough to sound casual. Ben nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Definitely." He grabbed his own gym bag, pulling out short, light blue running shorts. He stepped into them quickly, the hem riding high on his thick thighs. Leo followed suit, pulling on his own equally brief black running shorts. They were both dressed now – tees, short shorts, sneakers – the frantic energy of moments ago replaced by a tense, forced nonchalance.
Leo took a step towards the exit, gym bag slung over his shoulder. Ben moved to follow, but Leo paused, turning back just as Ben reached the door beside him. Ben leaned in, his voice a low, urgent hiss against Leo’s ear, his breath warm. "Leo. Our underwear." His eyes flicked down towards Leo’s shorts, where the black jockstrap straps were just visible beneath the hem. "I’ve got yours."
Leo glanced towards the newcomer, who was now humming and heading for the showers. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Ben’s ear lobe as he whispered, the sound barely audible. "Later. We’ll trade back later." He pulled back slightly, meeting Ben’s wide, questioning eyes. A slow, private smile touched Leo’s lips, his gaze dropping pointedly to Ben’s shorts. "Besides," he added, his whisper dropping even lower, rougher, "I kinda like wearing yours. Looks hot." He saw the flush creep up Ben’s neck, saw his throat work as he swallowed hard.
Without waiting for a reply, Leo pushed open the heavy locker room door, stepping out into the brighter light of the gym corridor. He paused just outside the doorway, turning his head back over his shoulder. Ben stood framed in the doorway, the blue shorts stark against his powerful legs, his expression a mix of lingering panic and dazed arousal. Leo’s grin was wide and easy, his voice carrying clearly now, loud enough to be heard by Ben but casual enough for anyone else. "Hey Ben," he called, the amusement clear in his tone. "If you’re hitting the bench press later? I’d love to spot you again. Soon." He winked, quick and sharp, before turning and striding confidently down the corridor towards the clanging weights, leaving Ben rooted in the doorway, staring after him, the echo of Leo’s words hanging in the air.
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