Oliver's bare feet slid across the cool hardwood floor of their apartment, his toes curling against the grain as he padded toward the couch. He wore only a pair of loose black sweatpants slung low on his hips, the drawstring dangling untied against his flat stomach. The fabric pooled around his narrow waist, revealing the sharp V of his hips and the faint trail of dark hair leading beneath the waistband. His lean torso was bare save for the thin silver chain resting against his sternum, the metal glinting whenever he moved. The sweatpants clung to his sculpted ass, not as thick as Ethan's, but perfectly rounded, with the cleft just visible beneath the thin fabric when he bent to grab the remote. His cock, still caged beneath the sweats, made a faint outline against his thigh when he shifted, the metal bars pressing insistently against the soft cotton.
Ethan sprawled across the opposite end of the couch, his thick thighs splayed wide under a pair of gray sweatpants that strained at the seams over his muscular legs. The waistband sat snug just below his navel, the fabric stretched taut over the dense musculature of his lower abdomen. His shirt, an old NYU tee with the sleeves ripped off, hugged his broad chest, the faded cotton stretched tight across his pecs. The hem rode up whenever he shifted, revealing the light dusting of hair trailing down from his navel to disappear beneath his waistband. His glasses perched low on his nose as he scrolled his phone, the silver frames catching the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds.
Oliver collapsed onto the couch with a groan, his sweatpants riding up to expose the lean muscle of his calves.
The microwave beeped, cutting through the apartment’s stale silence. Oliver didn’t move from the couch, his fingers drumming against his caged cock through his sweatpants. The metal pressed insistently against his thigh, a constant, maddening reminder.
Ethan glanced up from his phone, his hazel eyes flicking over Oliver’s restless fingers. “You sign that contract yet?” He kept his voice casual, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him.
Oliver exhaled sharply through his nose, his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Still thinking about it.”
“It’s been, what, two days?” Ethan’s thumb hovered over his screen, unmoving. “They’re not gonna hold the offer forever.”
“I know, I know.” Oliver dragged a hand down his face, his fingertips pressing into the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “But every time I sit down to fucking decide-” His hips jerked involuntarily, the cage shifting against his thigh with a soft metallic clink. He groaned, low and frustrated. "I can't think about anything except how fucking horny I am." His voice cracked on the last word, raw and desperate.
Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening around his phone. His own cage pressed mercilessly against the seam of his sweatpants, the metal bars imprinting red lines into his flushed skin. "Same," he muttered, shifting his weight on the couch. The worn leather creaked under his thick thighs.
Oliver's fingers skimmed the waistband of his sweats, his blunt nails digging into the fabric. "If I don't cum soon, I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind." His cock throbbed pathetically against the cage, the sensation maddeningly distant yet insistent, like an itch he couldn't scratch. Precum smeared the inside of the metal bars.
Ethan's hazel eyes flicked downward, lingering on Oliver's restless hand before darting away. "We could... try something." The words stumbled out, uncharacteristically hesitant.
Oliver stilled. "Like what?" His dark eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you've got a spare key."
"No, but," Ethan's throat worked as he swallowed. He set his phone aside with deliberate care, the screen face-down on the coffee table. "There are... other things we can do."
Oliver's pulse jumped. The silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things. The air conditioning kicked on with a quiet whir, sending a draft across Oliver's bare chest. He shivered, his nipples pebbling under the sudden chill.
Ethan reached over slow, giving Oliver time to pull away, and curled his fingers around Oliver's wrist. His palm was warm, calloused from years of weightlifting. "Trust me," he murmured, guiding Oliver's hand lower.
Oliver inhaled sharply when Ethan pressed his fingers against the outline of his own cage through his sweatpants. The metal was warm from Ethan's body heat, the bars unmistakable even through the fabric. Ethan's cock twitched under his touch, straining uselessly against the restraint.
"Fuck," Oliver breathed. His fingers flexed instinctively, tracing the rigid outline. Ethan hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking forward into the contact. Oliver could feel the thick vein pulsing against the metal, Ethan's arousal evident even through the cage.
Ethan's grip tightened around Oliver's wrist, guiding his hand upward to the waistband of his sweats. "You first," he said, voice rough. His hazel eyes were dark behind his glasses, pupils blown wide with want.
Oliver's breath hitched as Ethan tugged his sweatpants down just enough to expose the cage. The metal gleamed under the apartment lights, Oliver's flushed cock trapped inside, the tip slick with precum. Ethan exhaled sharply at the sight, his thumb brushing over the damp head through the bars. Oliver's back arched off the couch, a broken moan tearing from his throat.
"Shhh," Ethan murmured, pressing a palm flat against Oliver's stomach to hold him down. His other hand traced the cage's outline, fingers dipping lower to cup Oliver's balls, rolling them gently in his palm. Oliver whimpered, his thighs trembling.
Ethan's touch grew bolder, exploring the sensitive skin behind Oliver's balls, fingertips brushing lightly over his hole. Oliver gasped, his hips bucking up instinctively. "Ethan-"
"I know," Ethan muttered. He pressed a finger against Oliver's entrance, circling slowly. The muscle gave way easily, still relatively loose. Oliver shuddered, his fingers twisting in the couch cushions.
Ethan worked him open with careful fingers, his breath hot against Oliver's neck. "You're still so fucking loose," he murmured, adding a second finger. Oliver moaned, his cock twitching uselessly in its cage.
"Please," Oliver panted, his thighs shaking. "Just shut up and, fuck, just touch me."
Ethan withdrew his fingers abruptly, ignoring Oliver's whine of protest. He grabbed Oliver's wrist again, guiding his hand toward Ethan's own sweatpants. "Your turn," he growled.
Oliver didn't hesitate. His fingers fumbled with Ethan's waistband, yanking the fabric down just enough to expose the thick outline of Ethan's caged cock. The metal was tight against Ethan's flushed skin, veins straining visibly beneath the bars. Oliver traced the outline reverently, his thumb brushing over the slick head where precum had pooled at the tip.
Ethan groaned, his hips jerking into the touch. "Fuck, man."
Oliver smirked, watching Ethan's abs clench as he rolled Ethan's balls in his palm. "You're the one who started this," he murmured, squeezing just enough to make Ethan hiss. His other hand trailed lower, fingertips brushing Ethan's hole through the fabric.
Ethan's breath hitched. His fingers dug into Oliver's thigh as Oliver teased his rim, circling slow and deliberate. "Don't, fuck, don't tease."
Oliver chuckled darkly, pressing in with just the tip of his finger. "Like this?" He crooked his finger slightly, brushing over Ethan's prostate through the thin barrier of fabric. Ethan's whole body jerked, his cock straining against the cage.
Oliver pulled back, watching Ethan's chest heave. "Turn around," he ordered, voice rough.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He swung one thick thigh over Oliver's lap, straddling him backwards. The couch groaned under their combined weight. Oliver's hands settled on Ethan's hips, thumbs digging into the divots just above his waistband. The metal of Ethan's cage pressed hot against Oliver's bare stomach through the thin cotton of his sweats.
Oliver nuzzled between Ethan's shoulder blades, inhaling the scent of sweat and soap. His fingers traced the waistband of Ethan's sweats before hooking into them and yanking down just enough to expose the curve of Ethan's ass. The skin was warm under his palms, faint red marks still visible from Eric's grip days before.
Oliver spread Ethan's cheeks with both hands, exhaling sharply at the sight. "Christ, you're still loose too," he murmured, running a thumb over the puffy rim. Ethan shuddered, his muscles clenching involuntarily around nothing. "He really wrecked you, huh?"
Ethan's hips jerked forward, his caged cock rubbing against Oliver's stomach. "Shut up and, ah, do something already."
Oliver grinned, pressing his thumbs harder into the divots of Ethan's hips. "Since you asked so nice." He leaned forward, licking a broad stripe over Ethan's hole. The taste of salt and musk flooded his tongue.
Ethan's entire body locked up, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Oliver's lap. "Oh fuck-" The words dissolved into a groan as Oliver's tongue pressed inside, working him open with slow, filthy strokes. Oliver could feel Ethan's muscles fluttering around his tongue, still sensitive from Eric's earlier violation.
Oliver pulled back just enough to murmur against slick skin, "You're dripping." He swiped a finger through the mess before pressing it inside alongside his tongue. Ethan's back arched beautifully, his shoulder blades sharp beneath flushed skin.
The couch creaked dangerously when Ethan suddenly twisted, flipping around to straddle Oliver properly. His thick thighs squeezed Oliver's hips as he ground down, their cages clicking together through the fabric of their sweats. Oliver hissed at the friction, his hands flying to Ethan's waist to hold him still.
"Wanna feel you," Ethan panted, his silver glasses askew, his pupils blown wide behind the fogged lenses. "Not just, fuck, not just your tongue."
Oliver's fingers dug into Ethan's hips hard enough to bruise. "The keys are in Thorne’s desk," he gritted out, rocking up against Ethan's weight. "We're stuck like this."
Ethan growled low in his throat, grabbing Oliver's wrists and pinning them to the couch. His thumbs pressed into Oliver's pulse points as he leaned down, their foreheads bumping. “I need release," he demanded, breath hot against Oliver's lips.
Oliver bucked up, his sweatpants riding down his hips with the movement. The waistband caught on the curve of his ass, the fabric stretched taut over his thighs. "Ok," he challenged, nodding toward the kitchen. "Get a cucumber from the fridge, bro."
Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose, pupils dilating behind his smudged glasses. He shoved off Oliver with a grunt, stepped out of his sweats and tossed aside his shirt before stalking toward the kitchen. Oliver watched the flex of Ethan's ass and his high, firm globes before scrambling to yank his own sweats down past his knees.
The refrigerator door swung open with a muted hum, casting Ethan's silhouette in stark relief against the harsh white light. His bare back flexed as he reached inside, fingers brushing past takeout containers before closing around something long and cool. He emerged holding a thick cucumber, still dewy from the crisper drawer, its dark green skin glistening under the kitchen's dim track lighting.
Oliver's breath hitched as Ethan approached, the cucumber held loosely in one hand like a baton. The kitchen tiles were cold under Ethan's bare feet, each step deliberate. His cage swung heavily between his thighs, the metal glinting whenever he passed through patches of moonlight filtering through the blinds.
"Lie back," Ethan murmured, nudging Oliver's knees apart with one thick thigh. Oliver obeyed instantly, sinking into the couch cushions with a shudder. His cock strained against the cage, precum beading at the tip where it pressed through the bars. Ethan straddled him again, his weight settling warm and familiar over Oliver's hips.
The cucumber was cool against Oliver's inner thigh, making him twitch. Ethan smirked, tracing the blunt tip up Oliver's hipbone before pressing it teasingly against his hole. Oliver gasped, his spine arching off the couch. "Fuck. It's cold."
Ethan chuckled darkly, rolling the cucumber between his palms to warm it slightly before pressing the blunt tip more firmly against Oliver's loosened rim. "Better?" he murmured, watching Oliver's thighs tremble as he breached him slowly. The vegetable slid in with obscene ease, still cool enough to make Oliver gasp, his fingers clawing at the couch cushions.
"Christ." Oliver's head thumped back against the armrest, his throat working as Ethan worked the cucumber deeper, twisting it slightly to stretch him wider. The ridges of the skin dragged deliciously against his inner walls, and Oliver's hips jerked involuntarily, driving it deeper. "F-fuck, it's so, ah, weird," he panted, his toes curling against the coffee table.
Ethan's grip tightened around the base of the cucumber, his own cage throbbing against Oliver's thigh. "Good weird or bad weird?" he rasped, pulling out halfway before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his wrist.
Oliver's answering moan fractured into a whine, his legs hooking around Ethan's waist to pull him closer. "Good, fuck. Good weird," he gasped, his caged cock dripping against his stomach. "It's... thick."
Ethan watched Oliver's face, the way his lips parted around each ragged exhale and the flutter of his dark lashes against flushed cheeks, as he twisted the cucumber deeper. Oliver's thighs trembled violently when Ethan's knuckles brushed against his rim, the vegetable now buried to the hilt inside him.
"Fuck," Oliver choked out, his hips lifting off the couch involuntarily. The cucumber shifted with the movement, the bulbous end pressing unmistakably against his prostate. Oliver's back arched sharply, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as his caged cock jerked, spilling a thin stream of precum down his stomach.
Ethan's grip tightened around the base of the cucumber. "Look at you," he murmured, dragging it out slowly until just the tip remained before slamming it back in. Oliver's entire body seized, his fingers scrabbling at Ethan's forearms for purchase. The couch groaned beneath them, the leather squeaking with each brutal thrust.
Oliver's voice cracked around a sob. "Ethan. It’s too much-" His thighs clenched, his hole fluttering around the intrusion. The ridges of the cucumber's skin scraped deliciously against his oversensitive walls, the sensation just shy of painful. Ethan adjusted his angle slightly, and Oliver's words dissolved into a broken moan as the vegetable struck his prostate dead-on.
Oliver's vision whited out when Ethan twisted the cucumber sharply, the ridges dragging over his prostate with relentless precision. His thighs clamped around Ethan's waist, his caged cock pulsing against the metal bars as precum dribbled freely down his stomach. "F-fuck. Ethan, it’s so intense" The words shattered into a moan as Ethan pulled the cucumber out completely, leaving Oliver gaping and clenching around nothing.
Ethan smirked, tossing the cucumber onto the coffee table with a wet thud. "Let’s switch it up then." He flipped Oliver onto his stomach with a rough shove, spreading his thighs wide with both hands. The leather couch squeaked under Oliver's weight as Ethan positioned himself behind him, his fingers digging into Oliver's hips hard enough to leave bruises. Oliver shuddered when Ethan's thumb brushed over his still-loosened rim, the muscle fluttering involuntarily.
Oliver twisted his head to glare over his shoulder, his dark eyes glittering with frustration. "What are you doing, dude?" His hips jerked back against Ethan's touch, his caged cock trapped between his stomach and the couch cushions. The metal bars pressed uncomfortably into his abs with each movement, the sensation maddening.
Ethan leaned down, his breath hot against Oliver's ear. "Told you we'd find another way." His fingers trailed lower, dipping into the cleft of Oliver's ass. "Trust me."
Oliver's breath hitched as Ethan's fingers traced his rim with deliberate slowness. The muscle twitched beneath the teasing touch, still loose and slick from earlier. "Don't, fuck. Don't tease me either," Oliver panted, pressing his forehead against the cool leather couch.
Ethan chuckled darkly, dragging a single fingertip in a slow circle. "Girls always beg prettier when they’re desperate." His other hand slid beneath Oliver's hips, lifting him slightly to expose his caged cock trapped against the couch. The metal gleamed under the dim apartment lights, Oliver's flushed tip visible through the bars. Ethan thumbed the slick head, drawing a shattered moan from Oliver's throat.
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