"Okay, bro," Oliver said, his voice calm. "Give me like half an hour." He disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Ethan stared at the closed door, his heart hammering against his ribs. The silence roared. He hadn’t meant, he hadn’t expected, Oliver to actually agree. He scrambled off the sofa, the hoodie slipping off one shoulder, exposing the thick muscle. "Wait!" he blurted, without thinking, voice cracking. "Uh... you could... do it out here?" The words tumbled out, reckless and raw. He gestured vaguely toward the worn leather sofa where he’d just been sprawled. "You know... if you wanted?" Heat flooded his face, crimson washing over his neck and cheeks. The sheer audacity of the request hung thick in the air, a silent scream echoing his own confusion and desperate need for validation.
Oliver’s door clicked open. He stood framed in the doorway, shirtless still, but now holding a small bottle of clear lube. Oliver’s expression was unreadable. His dark eyes scanned Ethan’s flushed face, then drifted slowly down his body, lingering on the hoodie gaping open over Ethan’s powerful chest, the exposed strip of lower abdomen, the strained briefs. "Out here?" Oliver repeated, his voice low, devoid of inflection. He took a deliberate step into the living room, the lube bottle cool in his hand. "On the sofa? Where I watch Netflix?" He tilted his head, a flicker of something sharp in his gaze. "You sure about that, Drummond?"
Ethan swallowed hard, the dryness scraping his throat. Oliver’s proximity was overwhelming – the clean scent of sleep still clinging to his skin, the lean definition of his torso, the low-slung pajama pants emphasizing the compact curve of his ass and the undeniable bulge beneath the soft flannel. The image Ethan couldn’t banish flashed brighter: Oliver right here, on that leather, legs spread, fingers slick and probing. "Yeah," Ethan rasped, forcing the word out. His own cock throbbed traitorously against the confining cotton of his briefs.
Oliver stared at him, utterly still. His dark eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed. "What the fuck, bro?" Oliver breathed, the calm facade cracking. He took a deliberate step back, shaking his head sharply. "That's not on the table. Seriously? You want me to finger myself right here? On the sofa?" His voice rose, incredulous. "Are you hearing yourself?"
Ethan flinched, shame warring with desperation. "Yes!" he snapped, his voice cracking. He jabbed a finger towards Oliver’s bedroom door. "Because if you go in there, how do I know?" His hazel eyes burned with frantic intensity behind his smudged glasses. "How do I know you actually did it? That you’re not just… pretending? Sitting on your bed playing on your phone? I need to see it, Oli! I need to know it’s real!"
Oliver froze. His dark eyes locked onto Ethan’s face. He glanced at the worn leather sofa, then back at Ethan’s strained expression. Silence stretched, thick and charged. Finally, Oliver spoke. "Fine," he said. "But I’m not getting naked alone." He took a deliberate step forward, invading Ethan’s space, his dark eyes drilling into Ethan’s. "We’re doing this together then, Drummond." He gestured sharply between them. "So I also know you aren’t just fucking with me."
A choked sound escaped Ethan’s throat. His gaze flickered wildly from Oliver’s intense stare down to the bottle of lube clutched in his roommate’s hand. Slowly, hesitantly, Ethan nodded. His fingers trembled as they found the zipper pull of his oversized hoodie. He tugged it down, the metallic rasp unnaturally loud in the silent room. The heavy fabric slid off his broad shoulders, pooling on the rug behind him.
Ethan stood exposed in the soft morning light streaming through the window. His powerful physique was undeniable. Thick pectorals, sharply defined, strained slightly with each breath. Below, his sculpted abs formed a hard, ridged ladder descending towards his navel. A dark trail of hair plunged down from his navel, disappearing beneath the stretched white cotton waistband of his briefs. The fabric strained visibly, outlining the heavy, thick shaft nestled within, flushed crimson even in its semi-softened state. His briefs framed his thick, meaty thighs, powerfully muscled and dusted with fine dark hair radiated raw strength.
Oliver’s gaze travelled slowly, deliberately, down Ethan’s exposed form. His dark eyes widened slightly, lingering on the sheer mass of Ethan’s chest, the deep V-cut lines of his lower abdomen, the undeniable bulge tenting the white briefs. He swallowed hard, his own lean chest rising and falling faster. "How are you gonna finger yourself like that?," Oliver asked. He raised the bottle of lube slightly. "Unless you’ve changed your mind?" His gaze snapped back to Ethan’s face, challenging.
Ethan didn’t hesitate this time. His fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of his worn white briefs. He pushed them down over his hips in one decisive motion, the fabric catching briefly on the thick swell of his cock before sliding down his powerful thighs and pooling around his ankles. He kicked them off impatiently.
His cock sprang free, thick and heavy even in its semi-soft state. It hung down from a neatly trimmed dark bush, prominent veins tracing its impressive length – easily six inches already, thick and topped by the deep red hood of his foreskin pulled back slightly. Below, his heavy balls hung full and low. The sheer, primal size of him dominated the space between them.
Oliver sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes locked onto Ethan’s groin. "Fuck, bro," he breathed, the words escaping in a rush of pure disbelief. "That’s… a fucking massive tool." His gaze flickered up to Ethan’s face, then back down, mesmerized. "Jesus Christ." He shifted his weight, and the silence crackled. Oliver finally tore his eyes away, his jaw tightening. "Okay," he muttered, almost to himself.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of his soft flannel pajama pants. He pushed them down slowly, the fabric sliding over lean hips and smooth skin. The pants pooled around his ankles, leaving him standing exposed beside the coffee table. Oliver’s build was leanly athletic – defined shoulders, smooth pectorals, a flat stomach with the subtle ridges of abdominal muscles beneath taut skin. Below, his cock hung soft against smooth skin. He was circumcised, the flared head fully exposed, flushed pink and resting atop a shaft that measured a modest three inches in its flaccid state. The skin was smooth, taut, and clean shaven from the base of his shaft down over his low-hanging scrotum – his balls were smooth, compact spheres nestled tightly against his body.
Ethan’s gaze snapped down, momentarily distracted from his own exposure. A surprised, slightly hysterical laugh burst out of him, cutting through the suffocating tension. "Dude," he choked out, pointing weakly, a grin flickering despite his embarrassment. "Do you shave yourself completely smooth?" He shook his head, the laugh bubbling up again. "That’s so fucking gay!"
Oliver crossed his arms over his lean chest. "Oh yeah?" he retorted, voice sharp with mock outrage, but a hint of a smirk played on his lips. "Says the guy who insisted we get naked together and finger our assholes on the living room sofa!" He gestured emphatically at the worn leather. "Who’s the gay one now, Drummond?"
Ethan’s flush deepened instantly, spreading down his neck to his powerful chest. He stammered, looking away. "I… that’s… shut up." He mumbled, shifting his weight on his thick thighs.
Oliver snorted, dropping his arms, letting his smoothness be seen again. He grabbed the lube bottle decisively. "Plus," he added, his tone shifting to pragmatic, as he popped the cap, "it makes it look bigger." He squeezed a generous dollop of clear gel onto his fingers, the slick sound loud in the room. He glanced pointedly at Ethan’s thick, heavy cock resting against his thigh. "Not everyone," he muttered, "is hung like a fucking horse." He tossed the bottle of lube to Ethan, who caught it easily.
Ethan fumbled slightly with the cap, his large hands slick with nervous sweat. He squeezed a thick glob onto his index finger, the cool gel startling against his skin. "Same time?" he asked, his voice rough, eyes darting between Oliver’s lean form and the worn leather sofa.
"Yeah," Oliver breathed, already moving. "Same time." He knelt onto the sofa cushion, planting his knees wide apart on the soft leather. He leaned forward, folding his torso down until his smooth chest pressed against the cool leather back of the sofa. His compact, rounded ass lifted high into the air, the cleft deepening dramatically, exposing the tight, wrinkled pucker nestled between his firm cheeks. It was pale pink against his smooth skin, utterly vulnerable.
Ethan mirrored him, kneeling beside Oliver, his powerful thighs straining as he sank down onto the cushions. He leaned forward heavily, his broad shoulders and thick back muscles bunching as he flattened his torso against the leather beside Oliver’s leaner frame. His own ass, high and sculpted with dense muscle, lifted higher. The deep cleft between his thick, firm glutes parted, revealing his darker, furled hole nestled amidst a light dusting of dark hair. The cool air hit his exposed hole, making him gasp sharply. Beside him, Oliver inhaled sharply too, his own tight entrance clenching involuntarily at the sudden exposure. Their bodies were parallel, taut, exposed – Oliver’s smooth, lean body beside Ethan’s powerful, densely muscled form, both holes presented openly to the silent room. Ethan lifted his slicked finger tentatively towards his ass, his hand trembling slightly.
Ethan hesitated, his slick finger hovering inches from his own puckered entrance. He glanced sideways at Oliver. Oliver’s dark eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight, his own slicked finger pressed against his smooth skin just below his hole, trembling visibly. Ethan drew a ragged breath. He deliberately pressed the pad of his slick index finger firmly against his own tight ring of muscle. He felt the cool lube, the initial resistance, then a sharp, intrusive burn as he breached himself. A low groan escaped his lips, involuntary and rough. Beside him, Oliver flinched violently at the sound, his eyes snapping open wide with startled panic, locking onto Ethan’s strained face.
"Like this," Ethan gritted out, his voice thick with strain. He pushed deeper inside himself, the slick digit sliding past the tight ring, burying itself to the first knuckle. The burn intensified, radiating through his pelvis, sharp and intrusive. He held himself rigid, forcing himself not to pull away. His hazel eyes, wide behind his smudged glasses, locked onto Oliver’s. "Push," Ethan said, his voice cracking. "Just… push through it." He watched Oliver’s face contort, saw the knuckles whiten on Oliver’s hand as he pressed his own finger against his smooth entrance. Oliver’s breath hitched in a strangled gasp, his dark eyes flooding with shock as his fingertip breached the tight resistance.
Ethan pushed deeper, his finger sliding fully inside himself to the second knuckle. The burning stretch was intense, a raw ache filling his pelvis. He rotated his wrist slightly, the slick digit rubbing against tight, unfamiliar inner walls. A jolt of sensation – sharp, strange, not entirely unpleasant – shot through him, making his thick cock twitch violently against his thigh. Beside him, Oliver whimpered, his own finger buried deep inside his smooth ass, his body trembling.
"How... how does it feel?" Ethan gasped, his voice strained and thick. He kept his finger moving slowly, probing deeper, chasing that elusive sensation again. Oliver’s face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. He shook his head sharply, his dark eyes squeezed shut. "Hurts," Oliver choked out, his voice tight with pain and effort. "Just... fucking hurts, bro. Like... tearing." He withdrew his finger slightly, then pushed back in with a sharp gasp, his lean frame shuddering.
Ethan watched Oliver’s struggle, the pain etched onto his friend’s face. He pulled his own finger out almost completely, slick with lube, then plunged it back in decisively, deeper this time. He angled it upwards, searching. "Maybe... maybe you haven't found the spot yet," Ethan breathed, his own voice ragged. He curled his finger slightly inside himself, pressing firmly upwards against the front wall. A sudden, intense pressure bloomed deep inside him, radiating heat. Ethan gasped, his entire body jerking. His cock surged instantly, thickening impossibly fast, engorging until it stood rigid and flushed crimson, jutting thickly out from his groin – a veined, massive pillar easily reaching eight and a half inches, the deep red glans fully exposed beneath the retracted foreskin.
Oliver glanced sideways, his eyes widening in pure shock. His gaze locked onto Ethan’s fully erect cock, the sheer size and thickness dominating the space between them. "Holy fucking shit," Oliver breathed, his voice cracking with disbelief. He stared, mesmerized. "You're... you're massive, bro. I can't believe you're hard." Oliver’s own finger was still buried deep inside him, forgotten momentarily. Ethan glanced down, following Oliver’s gaze. Oliver remained completely soft, his circumcised cock lying flaccid against his smooth groin, untouched and unaroused amidst the pain. The contrast was stark: Ethan’s thick, towering erection beside Oliver’s limp, vulnerable state.
Ethan withdrew his finger, the slick sound loud in the charged silence. He scrambled off the sofa, his powerful thighs flexing as he moved behind Oliver. Oliver flinched violently at the sudden movement behind him. "Bro, what are you doing?" Oliver snapped, twisting his head to glare back, his dark eyes flashing. "Don't touch me!" Ethan knelt close behind Oliver’s lifted ass. "Relax," Ethan murmured, his voice low and intense. "I can find it faster from here. Better angle." Oliver hesitated, his knuckles white where he gripped the leather sofa back. He let out a shaky breath. "Be careful," he muttered, pulling his own slick finger free with a soft gasp. He buried his face against the leather, bracing himself.
Ethan knelt down behind Oliver, knees hitting the wooden floor, thighs impossibly thick. His hazel eyes focused intently on the tight pucker nestled between Oliver’s firm, compact cheeks. The hole was a deep rose pink and glistened faintly with lube. The surrounding skin was smooth, stretched taut across the lean muscled ass. It looked delicate, vulnerable, clenching nervously. Ethan squeezed a fresh dollop of cool lube onto his index finger. He pressed the pad firmly against the tight ring. Oliver gasped, his body tensing. Ethan pushed steadily, feeling the resistance yield as his thick fingertip breached Oliver’s entrance, sliding slowly inside to the first knuckle. Oliver whimpered, a low, pained sound muffled against the leather.
Ethan pushed deeper, his finger sliding fully into the tight, slick heat. Oliver arched his back sharply, gasping. Ethan curled his finger, probing deliberately against the front wall. His knuckle brushed a small, firm bump. Oliver went rigid as stone. A choked, guttural moan tore from his throat. "Fuck!" Oliver gasped, his voice ragged with shock. Ethan pressed firmly, rubbing the spot in small, deliberate circles. Oliver cried out, a high-pitched, involuntary sound. His hips bucked forward against the sofa. His soft cock surged, thickening and hardening with shocking speed. It sprang erect, a thick, flushed pink shaft standing straight out at six inches, the flared head fully exposed and glistening. Veins swelled along its length as Oliver trembled, moaning uncontrollably, the sound raw and desperate. "Oh god...!"
Ethan watched, mesmerized, as Oliver writhed. He maintained the steady pressure, rubbing the firm little nub. Oliver’s moans deepened, turning into a continuous, breathy whimper. His lean body convulsed, hips thrusting back against Ethan. His erection pulsed visibly, pre-cum beading thickly at the slit. Ethan felt his own thick cock twitch violently against his thigh, throbbing with sympathetic arousal. Oliver’s knuckles were white where he gripped the sofa back, his head buried against the leather. "Fuck man," Oliver gasped, the words thick and slurred.
Slowly, deliberately, Ethan withdrew his finger. The slick digit slid free with a soft, wet sound. Oliver shuddered violently at the sudden emptiness. He collapsed forward onto the sofa, his breath ragged, his lean chest heaving. His cock stood rigid, flushed dark pink and glistening, untouched. "Oli?" Ethan murmured, his voice low and rough. "You okay?" He shifted back slightly on his knees, giving Oliver space. The room was thick with the sharp scent of lube and sweat.
Oliver pushed himself up slowly, trembling. He turned awkwardly on the sofa, facing Ethan. His dark eyes were wide, pupils blown black with shock and lingering pleasure. Sweat plastered stray strands of black hair to his forehead. He stared down at his own throbbing erection, then back up at Ethan. "Holy fuck, bro," Oliver breathed, shaking his head slowly. His voice was hoarse, disbelieving. "It was... incredible." He swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto Ethan’s face. "That spot... you were right. I can’t believe..." He trailed off, shaking his head again, unable to articulate the intensity. His cock twitched violently, a fresh bead of pre-cum welling at the tip.
Silence hung heavy. Oliver’s eyes roamed over Ethan’s kneeling form – the powerful thighs, the thick chest, the heavy erection jutting proudly. "So," Oliver rasped. He opened his mouth, then closed it, at a loss for words.
Ethan leaned forward slightly, his warm breath ghosting across Oliver’s flushed, straining cock. Oliver shuddered violently. "Your turn?" Ethan asked, his voice thick, husky. His hazel eyes, intense behind the rims of his glasses, locked onto Oliver’s face. "Will you... find mine?"
Oliver swallowed hard. He nodded, a jerky movement. "Yeah," he breathed. "Okay." He shifted awkwardly off the sofa, his own erection bobbing. Ethan rose smoothly, his powerful legs flexing. They swapped positions silently. Ethan knelt onto the sofa cushions, planting his knees wide. He leaned forward, folding his massive torso down until his broad chest pressed against the back of the sofa. His thickly muscled shoulders bunched, the ridges stark beneath sweat-slicked skin. Below, his sculpted back tapered sharply into the deep cleft of his firm ass. The dense muscle curved perfectly, exposing the dark, furled hole nestled amidst a light dusting of hair. Oliver stared. His cock throbbed painfully, impossibly harder at the raw display of power and vulnerability. He squeezed fresh lube onto his index finger, the gel cool and slick.
Kneeling close behind Ethan, Oliver hesitated. His gaze traced the deep cleft, the tight pucker glistening faintly. He pressed his slicked fingertip firmly against the resistant ring. Ethan tensed instantly, a low grunt escaping him. Oliver pushed steadily, feeling the incredible tightness yield slowly. His fingertip breached the entrance, sliding inside to the first knuckle. The heat was intense, almost shocking. It clenched fiercely around him. "Fuck," Oliver breathed, surprised by the sheer warmth and pressure. He pushed deeper, burying his finger fully into the snug, molten grip. Ethan gasped, his powerful back muscles rippling under the strain.
Oliver curled his finger, probing deliberately against the front wall. He searched for the firm nub Ethan had found on him. Ethan shifted, his breath ragged. Oliver probed, rubbing firmly. Ethan jerked violently, a choked groan tearing from his throat. His thick cock surged against the leather sofa, pulsing visibly. "There?" Oliver asked, his voice rough. He maintained the pressure, circling the spot. Ethan nodded frantically, unable to speak, his hips pushing back against Oliver’s probing finger. A deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, vibrating through the leather.
The sensation intensified—a sharp, electric pressure blooming deep inside Ethan’s pelvis. It radiated heat through his core, making his thighs tremble. "More," Ethan gasped, the word thick and desperate. He arched his back, pressing his sculpted ass harder against Oliver’s hand. "Add... another finger. Now." Oliver hesitated, his own cock throbbing at Ethan’s raw command. He squeezed fresh lube onto his middle finger, slicking it thoroughly. He pressed the blunt tip alongside his buried index finger against Ethan’s stretched entrance.
Oliver pushed steadily. Resistance yielded slowly, the tight ring straining around the second intrusion. Ethan cried out—a sharp, ragged sound—as Oliver’s second finger breached him, sliding deep alongside the first. The stretch burned fiercely, a raw ache spreading through Ethan’s hips. He panted, sweat dripping down his temples onto the leather. Oliver curled both fingers inside, pressing firmly against that sensitive spot. Ethan shuddered violently, a strangled moan escaping him. "Fuck... yes!" he gasped, his voice cracking. His cock leaked steadily onto the sofa, thick beads of pre-cum pooling beneath him. Oliver rubbed the spot, fingers working in tandem, stretching Ethan wider with each deliberate thrust.
Suddenly, Ethan froze. His back muscles locked tight. "Stop," he gasped, the word sharp and urgent. He twisted his head, hazel eyes wide behind glasses, searching Oliver’s face. "Stop, Oli. Now." Oliver instantly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening. The sudden emptiness made Ethan gasp. "Are you... are you okay?" Ethan asked, his voice rough, strained. He pushed himself up slightly, gazing back on the sofa to face Oliver, his thick erection bobbing painfully between his thighs.
Oliver stared down at his own slick fingers, trembling slightly. He looked up, meeting Ethan’s intense gaze. His expression was dazed, conflicted. "Weirdly... yeah," he breathed, shaking his head slowly. A flush crept up his neck. "I swear to god, I’m not gay, bro." He gestured vaguely at Ethan’s naked, powerful form, then down at his own throbbing erection. "But this... whatever the fuck this is..." His voice dropped to a raw whisper, thick with confusion and need. "It’s got me so fucking horny I can’t think straight. And I don’t... I don’t know why." He ran a shaky hand through his messy black hair, avoiding Ethan’s eyes. The silence pulsed between them, charged and thick with unsaid tension. Oliver’s cock twitched violently, untouched.
Ethan watched him, his hazel eyes dark behind his glasses. Sweat glistened on his broad shoulders and trailed down his spine toward his ass. His own massive cock stood rigid, flushed crimson and weeping thick beads of pre-cum that trailed down its veined shaft. He swallowed hard, his throat working. "Me too," Ethan rasped, his voice low and rough. "Unbelievably horny." He paused, his gaze locked onto Oliver’s face. A flicker of hesitation crossed his strained features. "This is insane," he breathed, the words barely audible. "But... do you want to fuck me, bro?" The question hung heavy, raw, and utterly direct.
Oliver froze. His dark eyes widened, locking onto Ethan’s. For a heartbeat, the room felt suspended. Then, a sharp nod. "Yeah," Oliver breathed, the word thick and immediate. Without another word, Ethan moved. He rolled fluidly onto his back on the worn leather sofa, the muscles in his thick shoulders and chest rippling. He planted his feet firmly on the cushion near his ass, knees bent wide. Then, with a powerful flex of his core and thighs, he lifted his legs straight up into the air, suspending them high. His powerful calves and hamstrings strained, thick cords of muscle standing out. His sculpted ass lifted slightly off the leather, the cleft deepened, fully exposing his stretched, glistening hole – dark pink and visibly relaxed from Oliver’s fingers, nestled amidst the light dusting of hair. Above, his massive cock jutted straight toward his chest, thick and rigid, its flushed head leaking steadily onto the defined ridges of his abs. His chest heaved with ragged breaths.
Oliver grabbed the lube, squeezing a thick stream onto his palm. He slicked his throbbing cock rapidly, the cool gel mixing with pre-cum, making it glisten. His eyes never left Ethan’s exposed hole. He stepped forward between Ethan’s suspended thighs, his own lean frame trembling. He gripped Ethan’s powerful calves firmly, pulling him closer until Ethan’s legs wrapped tightly around Oliver’s torso, heels digging into Oliver’s lower back. Oliver guided the flared head of his slick cock to Ethan’s waiting entrance. He pressed firmly. There was resistance, tight and hot. Oliver pushed steadily, gasping sharply as the thick crown breached Ethan’s sphincter, stretching it wide. Ethan cried out – a ragged, guttural sound of pure sensation – his legs shaking violently.
Oliver sank deeper, inch by slick inch, groaning as Ethan’s incredible heat and tightness enveloped him completely. He bottomed out, hips flush against Ethan’s lifted ass, buried to the hilt. Ethan was a moaning, writhing mess beneath him. Oliver’s chest heaved, overwhelmed. "Fuckkkk," he gasped, voice cracking. "You feel... amazing, bro." Then, bracing himself against Ethan’s powerful thighs, Oliver pulled back slowly and thrust deep again. And then again. And again, settling into a rhythm.
Ethan cried out, louder this time, raw and ragged. His thick cock bounced violently against his abs with each powerful thrust, leaking thick ropes of pre-cum that smeared across his sculpted stomach. His legs trembled where they locked around Oliver’s waist. "Harder!" Ethan gasped, eyes squeezed shut behind his smudged glasses. "Fuck me harder, Oli!" He arched his back, driving his ass back onto Oliver’s cock. "Please!"
Oliver obeyed instantly, snapping his hips faster, driving deep with punishing force. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Ethan’s cries pitched higher, desperate and broken. "Yes! Like that! Don't stop!" His massive erection pulsed violently, weeping freely now, dripping onto his clenched abs. Every thrust slammed Oliver’s cockhead against that electric spot inside him, sending shockwaves through his core.
Oliver gasped, sweat dripping from his chin onto Ethan’s heaving chest. His own cock throbbed unbearably inside Ethan’s tight heat. "Fuck, Ethan... you're so tight... so fucking hot..." His thrusts grew ragged, losing rhythm as pleasure coiled tight in his belly. He could feel the tremors running through Ethan’s powerful thighs locked around him. Ethan clawed at the sofa leather, arching wildly. "I'm gonna... Oli, I'm gonna cum!" he choked out, his voice raw. Oliver groaned, his vision blurring. The slick grip around him tightened impossibly. "Me too... fuck, me too!"
Ethan arched violently off the sofa, a choked scream tearing from his throat. His thick cock jerked, then erupted. Thick, pearly ropes of cum shot out in powerful bursts—first onto his chest, then higher, splattering across his collarbones and neck. His hole clenched rhythmically, spasming wildly around Oliver’s buried shaft in time with each explosive pulse.
The sudden, fierce milking pressure sent Oliver crashing over the edge. He slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt as he groaned—a raw, guttural sound. His hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself inside Ethan, hot pulses flooding deep. His cock throbbed within Ethan’s still-clenching heat, each spurt wringing another shuddering gasp from Ethan beneath him.
Oliver collapsed forward, trembling, his forehead pressed between Ethan’s sweat-slicked pecs. Ethan’s legs still limply wrapped around Oliver’s back. They lay tangled, breathing ragged, the air thick with the sharp scent of sex and lube. Ethan’s softening cock lay spent across his cum-streaked stomach. Oliver’s softening length slipped free with a wet sound.
Silence settled, heavy and thick. Ethan stared blankly at the ceiling fan, his glasses askew. Oliver slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. His dark eyes scanned Ethan’s face – the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression behind the crooked frames. "Bro?" Oliver rasped, his voice hoarse. "You... okay?"
Ethan blinked slowly. He swallowed hard, his throat clicking. "Yeah," he breathed, forcing a weak, shaky smile. He gestured vaguely between their naked bodies. "Totally fine. Just... bros helping bros out, right?" He gave Oliver’s shoulder a clumsy pat. "We both learned something." His voice sounded strained, even to himself. His gaze flickered away, avoiding Oliver’s intense stare.
Oliver nodded slowly. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice low. He pushed himself fully upright, swinging his legs off the sofa. He stared down at his own sticky hands, then at the drying streaks of cum on Ethan’s powerful chest and abs.
"So," Oliver began, his gaze lifting to meet Ethan’s. "Did it... actually feel good?" The question hung in the thick air, blunt and unavoidable. Ethan shifted awkwardly on the sofa, leather sticking to his damp skin. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His glasses slid slightly down his nose. "Good?" A rough, disbelieving laugh escaped him. "Oli... it was fucking unreal." His hazel eyes locked onto Oliver’s, intense and wide behind the smudged lenses. "That was the most intense cum of my entire goddamn life. Explosive. Like... fucking dynamite went off inside me." He gestured vaguely toward his softening cock, still glistening with mixed fluids. "Didn't even touch my dick once. Not once."
Silence stretched between them, thick with the aftermath. Ethan hauled himself upright with a grunt, the leather peeling away from his back with a sticky sound. Feeling suddenly very exposed, Ethan turned his back to Oliver and grabbed his discarded briefs from the floor, using it to wipe roughly at the drying mess on his chest and stomach.
Oliver watched him. His gaze tracked the movement, then dropped lower. A thick, pearly rivulet of Oliver’s own cum escaped Ethan’s stretched, flushed hole, tracing a slow, glistening path down the powerful curve of Ethan’s inner thigh. Oliver’s spent cock, resting limply against his thigh, gave a sudden, involuntary twitch. He stared, surprised, as it began to thicken and swell again against his will.
Ethan bent sharply at the waist to pull the cum-soaked briefs up his thick legs. The movement pulled his sculpted ass cheeks wide apart, fully exposing the dark pink, glistening pucker nestled in their cleft. Sweat gleamed on the dense muscle of his thighs and lower back. He tugged the briefs over his hips, the damp fabric clinging obscenely to his softening bulge and the cleft of his ass.
He walked towards the bathroom, his stride stiff, powerful shoulders slightly hunched. He pushed the door open. "Dude," Oliver called out, his voice rough but hesitant. "Don’t take forever. I gotta shower too." Ethan paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. A low, strained chuckle escaped him. Oliver shifted on the sofa, avoiding Ethan’s eyes. "Maybe…" he started, quieter now, almost shy. "If you wanted to experiment some other time… we could swap positions?" Ethan tilted his head, pondering for a beat. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face behind the crooked glasses. "Yeah," he replied, his voice soft. "We’re roommates. Bros. We’ve got each other’s backs." He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him.
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