"Throw those weights down like they owe you money, Don." Joe grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. His tank top clung to muscles thick from decades of lifting. "Forty reps ain't gonna finish themselves."
Don grunted, driving the dumbbell upward. His forearms trembled, veins popping like coiled ropes under skin slick with perspiration. The basement gym smelled of rubber mats, chalk dust, and old sweat — a comforting musk for both men. "Only reason I'm still breathing," he panted between reps, "is 'cause I know your fridge has that cheap beer." He slammed the weight onto the rack with a clang that echoed off concrete walls.
Outside, twilight faded into full dark. Cicadas buzzed beyond the basement's small, high windows. Joe stripped off his soaked tank top, tossing it onto a bench piled with towels. "Beer's cold," he said, scratching his dense chest hair, glistening under fluorescent lights. "But first, I got something better. Come see the new tub." He jerked his thumb toward the side door leading outside. Don raised an eyebrow but followed, gulping water from his bottle.
The hot tub sat nestled in a corner of the backyard, steam rising lazily into the cool night air. Joe flicked a switch; soft blue lights glowed beneath the bubbling water. "Rules are simple," he said, already unbuckling his belt. "No suits. Skin only. Cleans the pores." He stepped out of his shorts and kicked them aside, standing fully bare under the moonlight — powerful thighs, broad shoulders, everything defined and unashamed.
Don hesitated only a second before shedding his own clothes, joining Joe in the warm, churning water with a low groan of relief.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the tub's gentle hum and distant traffic. Don leaned back, letting the jets pummel his lower back. "Christ, this feels good. Better than three ibuprofen." Joe chuckled, swirling a hand through the water. They talked aimlessly — office politics, Don’s ex-wife’s latest drama, the absurd cost of protein powder.
Then Joe stretched, arms overhead, exposing tufts of damp underarm hair. "Ever miss the touch of a woman?" he asked casually, eyes fixed on the ripples.
Don snorted. "Hell, no. What's to miss?" He sank deeper into the water.
Joe shifted closer, thigh brushing Don’s under the foam. "Sometimes," Joe murmured, voice dropping, "a man just needs skin on skin." His hand drifted underwater, fingertips grazing Don’s knee.
Don didn’t pull away. Joe’s palm slid higher, calloused and sure, up the thick muscle of Don’s thigh. Don’s breath hitched — sharp, audible. Joe leaned in, the heat between them not just from the water now. "Tell me to stop," he breathed, inches from Don’s face.
Don didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just met Joe’s gaze, pupils wide in the dim blue light.
Joe closed the distance. Their mouths crashed together — rough, urgent, tasting sweat and chlorine. Don’s hands found Joe’s shoulders, fingers digging into hard muscle as Joe’s tongue pushed past his lips. Joe groaned into the kiss, one hand tangling in Don’s hair, the other roaming down his back, nails scraping skin.
Don arched against him, chest hair rasping against Joe’s, their legs entwining. "Fuck," Don gasped when Joe broke for air. Joe just smirked and kissed him again, deeper this time, hands exploring lower.
Joe pulled back slightly, chuckling low in his throat. Steam curled around his flushed face. "Now you know why I’m single," he rasped, thumb tracing Don’s jawline. "Women figured it out quick enough."
Don stared, pulse hammering in his neck. Water sloshed as he shifted closer. "Never ... never even crossed my mind," he admitted hoarsely. "But Christ ..." He swallowed hard. "Since before the divorce papers were signed? Yeah." His knuckles whitened where he gripped Joe’s bicep. "Every damn time you spotted me on the bench press. That vein on your neck..."
Joe growled softly, pressing a wet kiss to Don’s collarbone. His teeth grazed skin. "Shoulda told me sooner," he breathed against the muscle.
"Would you have listened?" Don’s fingers slid down Joe’s spine, tracing grooves of muscle slick with water and sweat.
"I’m listening now." Joe’s hand closed around Don’s cock underwater, thick and hard. Don bucked, a strangled moan escaping him as calloused fingers tightened.
Joe pushed him against the padded tub wall, hips grinding. "Been wanting this," he panted. "Your back flexing under those shirts ..."
Don tangled a fist in Joe’s soaked chest hair. "The way you smelled after squats ..."
Their mouths collided again, tongues clashing. Joe’s grip tightened, stroking slowly, firmly. Don arched, groaning as the jets throbbed against his lower back. The scent of chlorine mixed with their musk. Above, a plane blinked silently across the star-strewn sky.
Then Joe spun Don around, pressing his chest against the tub’s edge. Water surged over Don’s shoulders. "Hold on," Joe commanded, voice rough.
Don braced his hands on the cool acrylic rim. The night air chilled his wet skin as Joe’s broad frame settled behind him. A tremor ran through him — anticipation, fear, pure electric need. Joe’s palm smoothed down his flank, possessive.
"Still want it?" Joe murmured against Don’s ear, his breath hot. Below the surface, fingers traced lower, firmer.
Don pressed back against Joe’s solid heat. "Don’t fucking stop," he ground out. The jets churned foam against his thighs. Joe’s answering chuckle vibrated through him.
With a surge of strength, Joe lifted Don’s hips clear of the water. Cool night air kissed Don’s wet skin as he sprawled forward, belly flat against the acrylic rim, ass tilted high. Steam rose around them like ghosts. Don gripped the edge, knuckles bone-white, every muscle taut beneath the moonlight. Below, the tub lights cast shifting blue patterns on his glistening back.
Joe’s rough palms slid up Don’s flanks and gripped his cheeks, spreading them wide. Don gasped as the air hit his exposed hole — a sudden, shocking intimacy. Then Joe’s tongue, hot and insistent, traced a wet line from taint to tailbone. Don shuddered, a ragged groan tearing loose. "Jesus, Joe —"
The groan became a helpless cry as Joe buried his face between Don’s cheeks. His tongue wasn’t gentle — it probed, circled, then plunged deep. Don felt the slick heat drilling inside him, relentless and possessive. Joe’s stubble scraped his perineum; his nose pressed firm against Don’s balls. Every flick, every suck, sent jolts of pure electricity up Don’s spine. He writhed, pinned by Joe’s grip, the rim digging into his hip bones. Water sloshed violently around Joe’s submerged thighs.
"You taste like sweat and chlorine," Joe growled against his skin, the vibration making Don’s legs shake. He laved broad strokes, then focused again — tongue spearing, twisting, working him open.
Don’s cock throbbed, untouched and dripping onto the tub’s shell. Stars swam in his vision. He bit down on a whimper, his hips bucking uselessly against Joe’s hold. The wet sounds filled the night — obscene, hungry — mingling with Don’s choked gasps. Joe’s fingers dug bruises into his flesh as he feasted, driving Don toward the edge with nothing but his mouth.
Then Joe pulled back. Cool air rushed where his heat had been. Don trembled, his hole clenching emptily, slick and exposed. Before Don could protest, strong hands flipped him roughly. He crashed against Joe’s soaked chest, their legs tangling underwater. Joe’s eyes burned into his — dark, feral, utterly focused.
"I’m gonna fuck you now, Don," Joe rasped, voice thick with need. Steam curled around his flushed face. "I’ve wanted you for so long ..." He hauled Don backward, settling himself onto the submerged bench. Don landed hard against Joe’s broad, hairy torso, his back pressed flush against muscle and coarse chest hair. The jets thrummed against their legs.
Joe’s thick cock surged upward, rigid and demanding, nestling firmly against Don’s slicked entrance. Don froze, every muscle locking tight. Joe’s breath hitched against his ear. "Easy," Joe murmured, hands smoothing down Don’s trembling thighs. "Just relax ... open up for me." His palms pressed outward gently, coaxing Don’s legs wider apart. Don forced a shaky breath, deliberately loosening the tight clench of his muscles. As he yielded, Joe’s broad cockhead pressed insistently forward.
A sharp gasp tore from Don’s throat as Joe breached him — a slow, relentless invasion that burned and stretched him impossibly wide. He arched, fingers scrabbling blindly against Joe’s corded forearms beneath the churning foam.
Joe groaned, low and guttural, his hips lifting slightly to drive deeper. Inch by searing inch, Joe filled him, the thick shaft sliding steadily upward until Don’s ass cheeks were crushed tight against the wiry, damp tangle of Joe’s crotch hair. Full. Claimed.
Don’s head dropped back onto Joe’s shoulder, a ragged cry escaping him. The water surged around them, echoing the frantic pulse thrumming where they were joined.
Joe’s arms locked around Don’s torso like steel bands. "Feel that?" he growled, voice thick against Don’s neck. "Every fucking inch." He began to move – deliberate, grinding thrusts that dragged his thick shaft almost entirely out before plunging back into that tight, molten heat. Each inward drive scraped Don’s prostate with agonizing precision, forcing choked gasps past his lips. Steam curled around their faces; the scent of chlorine was obliterated by musk, sweat, and the sharp tang of need.
Joe’s rhythm was relentless. Slow, deep withdrawals that left Don clenching desperately around emptiness, followed by brutal, piston-like drives that slammed Joe’s groin hard against Don’s ass cheeks. Water sloshed violently over the rim, soaking the patio stones.
Don’s untouched cock bobbed rigidly in the churning foam, weeping precum onto Joe’s hairy thigh trapped beneath him. He scrabbled for purchase, fingers digging into Joe’s rock-hard quadriceps, his own thighs trembling uncontrollably around Joe’s hips. Every nerve screamed – the rasp of Joe’s chest hair against his back, the punishing grip on his waist, the slick, obscene slide deep inside him. Stars burst behind his eyelids with every jarring impact.
Joe’s breath hitched, growing ragged and shallow. His thrusts grew shorter, sharper, losing their measured pace. A low, feral groan vibrated through Don’s spine as Joe buried himself impossibly deep, grinding his pelvis hard against Don’s ass.
"Gonna fill you," Joe choked out, fingers biting bruises into Don’s hips. His body arched, muscles locking rigid beneath Don’s back. Don felt the hot, pulsing surge deep within him – a thick, insistent flood of sperm that seemed to go on and on, marking him, claiming him utterly. Joe shuddered violently against him, a final, guttural cry tearing loose as he emptied himself.
Silence fell, broken only by their harsh breathing and the tub’s persistent churn. Joe slumped back against the bench, spent, his softening cock still buried snugly inside Don. His hands slid limply down Don’s flanks.
"Christ, Don," he murmured, voice rough as gravel. His fingers trailed through the foam drifting around Don’s thighs. "Feel that?" Joe shifted slightly, his hand drifting lower underwater. His calloused fingertips brushed the underside of Don’s achingly hard cock, still thick and straining, untouched amidst the cooling foam.
A possessive growl rumbled in Joe’s chest as he curled his fingers around Don’s shaft, holding him firmly. "Perfect," Joe breathed, his thumb rubbing a slow circle over the slick head. "Keep it right there. Mine." He tightened his grip possessively, keeping Don impossibly full and achingly hard.
Don groaned, rolling his hips instinctively against Joe’s hold. The friction was minimal — just the pressure of Joe’s fist — but it sent sparks up his spine. Joe watched, eyes dark, as Don’s cock pulsed thickly against his palm, untouched yet desperate for release. Water lapped gently around them now, the jets quieted. Above, the moon painted silver streaks across Joe’s soaked chest hair.
"You gonna make me wait?" Don gritted out, his voice raw.
"Oh, yeah," Joe rasped, tightening his grip just shy of pain. "Feel every fucking second." He leaned in, biting Don’s earlobe lightly. Don shuddered, pinned between Joe’s thighs and his unyielding hand.
Time stretched — agonizing, electric — each heartbeat thundering where Joe’s fingers encircled him. Don’s knuckles whitened as he fought the urge to thrust, sweat mingling with the drying water on his brow. Joe’s other hand drifted lower, fingertips teasing the stretched rim where their bodies had joined minutes before, stoking the fire higher.
Finally, Joe relented. With a rough shove that sent water cascading over the tub’s edge, he hauled Don sideways onto the submerged bench. Steam curled around them as Joe straddled Don’s lap, thick thighs bracketing Don’s hips. He seized Don’s wrist, guiding his calloused hand firmly around the base of Don’s own neglected cock. "Now," Joe commanded, his voice guttural. "Fuck me. Hard."
Before Don could react, Joe surged upward, water sluicing off his glistening body. He planted his feet wide on the tub floor, gripping the acrylic rim behind him. Moonlight carved the deep valleys of his flexed back muscles as he bent sharply forward. With deliberate roughness, he hauled his own ass cheeks apart, exposing the dark, glistening furl of his hole just above the waterline. Bubbles clung to his taint.
"Here," Joe rasped over his shoulder, knuckles white where he gripped himself open. "Your own personal fuck hole. Go to town."
Don’s breath hitched. He scrambled across the tub, the churning water slowing him. When he reached Joe, he didn’t hesitate. He gripped Joe’s hips, fingers digging into solid muscle, and buried his face between those spread cheeks. His tongue lashed out — broad, wet strokes over puckered skin tasting sharply of chlorine and salt. Then deeper, probing insistently past the tight ring.
Joe groaned, low and surprised, as Don’s tongue worked him open, mimicking Joe’s earlier ferocity. The taste flooded Don’s senses — clean water, chemical tang, and beneath it, the musk of Joe’s exertion. It was surprisingly clean, primal. Good.
Don straightened, water streaming down his chest. His cock throbbed, glistening and slick. He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly before gripping Joe’s hips again. He lined the swollen head against Joe’s loosened entrance, still glistening from his tongue. "Brace yourself," Don growled.
He thrust forward — no tease, no slow surrender. Brutal. Unforgiving. His entire length sank deep in one savage push. Joe cried out, back arching like a drawn bow, fingers scrabbling against the tub’s rim. Don bottomed out hard, hips crashing against Joe’s ass cheeks. The water heaved violently around them. Don held himself there, buried to the hilt, feeling Joe’s scorching heat clamp down around him. "Tight," Don gasped, voice shredded. "Christ, you're tight."
Don withdrew almost entirely, leaving Joe clenching desperately around emptiness. Then he slammed home again, harder, deeper. The slap of wet skin echoed sharply in the humid night. Joe groaned, a broken sound that vibrated through Don’s bones. Each thrust became a piston stroke — relentless, punishing. Don gripped Joe’s hips, fingers digging into muscle as he drove upward, angling sharply to grind against Joe’s prostate. Joe jerked, a choked gasp escaping him. "Right there! Don — fuck!"
Sweat stung Don’s eyes. His thighs burned. The world narrowed to the slick slide of his cock plunging into Joe’s yielding heat, the slap of their bodies, Joe’s ragged breaths punctuated by sharp cries. Steam rose thickly, enveloping them. Don felt the pressure building, coiling low in his belly — a relentless, seismic force. Joe shuddered violently beneath him, muscles spasming around Don’s shaft. "Close," Joe rasped, voice thick and desperate. "Don ... please ..."
Don’s rhythm faltered. His vision swam. Every nerve screamed for release. With a raw, guttural roar, he drove forward one final time, hips snapping flush against Joe’s ass. He buried himself impossibly deep and held. Joe felt it — the fierce, pulsing throb deep inside him, hot jets erupting again and again. Don yelled, a sound torn from his gut — pure, unbridled ecstasy echoing into the night sky. His body locked rigid, emptying himself in thick, convulsive spurts that flooded Joe’s core. Stars exploded behind his eyelids.
Joe collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the cool acrylic rim as Don’s cock pulsed its last inside him. Only harsh breathing filled the silence now, the tub’s bubbles long stilled. Moonlight gleamed on the water slicking Joe’s heaving back. Don slumped over him, trembling, still buried deep, hands braced weakly on Joe’s flexed waist.
The scent of sex hung heavy in the damp air — musk, salt, and the sharp tang of spent release. Joe shifted slightly beneath him, a low, satisfied hum vibrating through his chest. "Hell of a workout," Joe murmured hoarsely. Don just groaned, utterly spent.
Slowly, Don pulled free, the sudden emptiness a shock. They sank together into the churning water, limbs heavy as lead. Joe wrapped powerful arms around Don’s torso, pulling him flush against his broad chest. Chest hair rasped against Don’s back, wet and coarse.
Joe’s mouth found the nape of Don’s neck, kissing softly, possessively, tasting sweat and chlorine. Don tilted his head back, capturing Joe’s lips in a slow, deep kiss — less frantic now, filled with a raw, bewildered tenderness. Their tongues slid together gently, exploring the aftermath. Hands roamed over slick skin, tracing the ridges of muscles worked hard, not in exertion, but surrender — fingers brushing over damp hair, shoulders, the curve of a flank.
They clung, breathing ragged but slowing, foreheads pressed together in the swirling steam. Water lapped gently around their chins, the jets finally silent, leaving only the rhythmic pulse of their shared heartbeat echoing in the quiet night.
Minutes bled into each other. Don’s fingers traced the deep furrow of Joe’s spine, feeling the knots of tension melted away. He leaned back, a soft sigh escaping him. "Skin feels ... wrong," he mumbled, lifting a hand. His fingertips were deeply wrinkled, pale and puckered.
Joe chuckled, a warm rumble against Don’s shoulder. "Prunes," he agreed, examining his own waterlogged palm. The spell broke gently. They disentangled reluctantly, the cool night air biting sharply against wet skin as they rose.
Water cascaded off them, pooling around their feet on the patio stones. Joe grabbed two thick towels from a stack nearby, tossing one to Don. Rough terrycloth rasped against sensitive skin as they dried with brisk, efficient strokes, stealing glances, lingering touches — a hand smoothing down a damp back, fingers brushing a thigh. The towels absorbed the chill, leaving them shivering slightly but warm beneath.
Joe draped his towel over his shoulders, gesturing towards the dimly lit basement door. "Night’s shot," he said, voice rough but soft. He paused, meeting Don’s gaze directly in the moonlight. His eyes held a question, a vulnerability Don hadn’t seen before. "Stay? My bed’s big enough."
Don didn't hesitate. A grin, wide and genuine, split his face, echoing the fierce, uncomplicated relief in Joe’s expression. "Yeah," Don breathed, stepping closer, towel forgotten. He bumped Joe’s shoulder lightly, a gesture laden with unspoken promise. "Lead the way."
They moved towards the warm glow spilling from the doorway, leaving the steaming tub and tangled towels behind, stepping together into the quiet house. The heavy door clicked shut softly, sealing them into the shared warmth of the night ahead.
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