The first time Viktor saw Leo, it was midnight in the security locker room, fluorescent lights buzzing like trapped wasps. Viktor—six-foot-three of coiled muscle, tattooed knuckles still damp from rain—was shrugging into his stab vest when the door slammed open. There stood a man who might’ve been his reflection: same tree-trunk shoulders, same dense chest hair curling at the collar of a company polo. Only the buzz-cut and rough beard marked him as someone else: Leo.
“Christ,” Leo grinned, his voice a graveled echo of Viktor’s own. “HQ said they hired a twin. Didn’t believe ’em.”
They patrolled Sector G that night — abandoned warehouses bleeding rust along the harbor. Silence stretched, thick as the humid air, until Leo nudged Viktor’s shoulder. “Bet you bench more.”
“Two-fifty,” Viktor grunted.
“Bullshit.” Leo’s laugh was low. “Prove it.”
Back in the locker room at dawn, they faced each other in the grimy mirror. Viktor peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt; Leo matched him, strip by strip. Chests heaving, ink glistening on identical biceps, they stood inches apart. The air crackled — not rivalry, but something hotter, hungrier. Leo’s knuckles brushed Viktor’s stomach. “Your move, big guy.”
Viktor’s hand shot out, gripping Leo’s beard, yanking him close. No words. Just collision — mouths crashing, teeth scraping, calloused hands clawing at belts. Leo’s buzz-cut rough against Viktor’s bald scalp. Denim hit the floor. Leo’s thick fingers fumbled with Viktor’s briefs, freeing the heavy swell of him, thick and already dripping. Viktor mirrored him, his rough palm wrapping Leo’s identical hardness. A groan tore from Leo’s throat — or was it Viktor’s? They didn’t care. Foreheads pressed, they pumped each other in furious rhythm, sweat-slicked chests sliding, breaths ragged.
Against lockers rattling like gunfire, they came — Leo first, thick stripes painting Viktor’s thigh; Viktor following, roar muffled against Leo’s shoulder. Panting, Leo wiped his hand on Viktor’s vest, smirk savage. “Told you. Twins.”
Outside, dawn bled red. The shift ended. Theirs had just begun.
"Breakfast?" Leo rasped, pulling his uniform pants up, eyes locked on Viktor's damp thigh where his own release glistened. "I know a spot. Open all night. Does pancakes like bricks."
Viktor grunted, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a meaty hand. The locker room reeked of bleach, stale sweat, and sex. "Lead the way." No hesitation. The raw energy between them still hummed, settling now into a comfortable, charged silence.
The diner was a chrome-and-vinyl relic wedged between a pawn shop and a closed laundromat. Fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, illuminating cracked linoleum and the sharp scent of burnt coffee. They slid into a booth, vinyl seats sticking to their thighs. Leo didn't bother with a menu. "Two lumberjack specials," he barked at the bored waitress, "extra bacon. And keep the coffee coming." He turned back to Viktor, elbows on the sticky tabletop. "So. Twins." His grin was wolfish under the harsh light, beard catching crumbs as he tore open a sugar packet with blunt fingers. "You fuck many guys before?"
Viktor stirred cream into his steaming mug, the ceramic dwarfed in his grasp. "Few," he admitted, voice low. The warmth of the coffee contrasted with the cool sweat still drying on his neck. "Army barracks. Mostly dark corners. Fast." He met Leo's gaze, unflinching. "Never like that. Never ... someone built like me." He took a slow sip, the bitter brew sharpening the lingering taste of Leo on his tongue. "You?"
Leo chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated the cheap silverware. "Started young. Wrestlin' team locker room." He ripped a piece of bacon in half, crispy fat glistening. "Got a type, apparently." He gestured vaguely with the bacon at Viktor's frame. "Solid. Like throwing yourself against a brick wall." He popped the bacon into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Got a wife. Ex-wife now. Cheryl. Couldn't handle the hours. Or," he added, eyes flickering down Viktor's chest where the company polo clung damply, "maybe somethin' else."
Viktor nodded slowly. The waitress thumped down heavy plates piled high with eggs, pancakes, sausage, and mountains of bacon. The greasy, savory smell filled the air.
"School," Viktor began, stabbing a sausage link with surprising precision. He stared at it, not Leo. "Seventh grade wrestling. Coach Henderson." A low chuckle escaped him, rough like gravel. "Built like a goddamn oak tree. Had these forearms ..." He flexed his own massive arm unconsciously. "Thick veins. Used to spot us during drills, hands everywhere. Knew what he was doing." Viktor took a huge bite, chewing methodically. The memory was vivid, tangible. "He'd 'adjust' my stance. Fingers digging into my hips, breath hot on my neck." Viktor met Leo's intense gaze. "Knew I liked men right then. Knew I liked that." He scooped up a forkful of runny egg yolk. "Lasted 'til I was nineteen. Him and me. Steamy showers after practice. Quick fucks in his office after hours. Smelled like sweat and cheap aftershave." Viktor shrugged, a massive shoulder rolling. "He got a job coaching college ball out in Oregon. Ghosted me. Clean break." He ripped a strip of bacon in half. "Never found another like him. Until now."
Leo leaned forward, his beard brushing the rim of his coffee mug. His eyes held a predatory understanding. "Henderson," he murmured, the name tasting the air. "Explains the enthusiasm." He traced a thick finger through a puddle of spilled syrup on the table. "My high school coach? Strict Baptist. Woulda shit himself seeing us back in that locker room." A dark grin spread across Leo's face, genuine amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Bet Henderson taught you a thing or two." He didn't phrase it as a question.
Viktor grunted, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest. He remembered the sting of Coach Henderson's palm landing sharply on his ass during a failed takedown drill, the rough urgency behind the equipment shed. "Taught me to spot weakness," Viktor said, his voice dropping lower. He speared another sausage, holding Leo's gaze. "And how to exploit it." The implication hung thick between them – the raw power play in the locker room wasn't just lust; it was instinct honed by experience.
The vinyl seat squeaked loudly as Leo shifted. He nudged Viktor’s boot under the table, a solid, deliberate pressure. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Leo’s cheekbones. "Exploitin' ain't just for takedowns, big guy," he rasped, his coffee-black eyes gleaming. "Sun's up. We're off duty." He drained his mug, slamming it down. "My place is close." It wasn't an invitation; it was a statement. A challenge.
Viktor felt the familiar, electric heat coil low in his gut. Henderson was a ghost. This? This was flesh and blood, sweat and muscle, sitting right across the sticky diner table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grease gleaming on his knuckle tattoos. "Lead the way."
They rose, leaving a thick wad of crumpled cash on the table – enough for the lumberjack specials and a generous tip for the weary-eyed waitress. The bell above the diner door jangled sharply as they pushed out into the dawn. Outside, the city smelled of wet asphalt, exhaust, and the faint brine drifting from the harbor. The rising sun painted the grimy streets in harsh gold and long, stretching shadows. They walked side-by-side, shoulders occasionally bumping, boots echoing on the cracked sidewalk. Neither spoke; the heavy silence between them thrummed with anticipation thicker than the humid air.
Ten minutes later, Leo halted before a squat brick building wedged between a shuttered bodega and a noisy auto shop. Paint peeled from the dented metal doorframe. "Home sweet shithole," Leo grunted, jamming a key into a stubborn lock. The door opened with a groan onto a dim, narrow hallway smelling faintly of mildew and fried onions. Stairs, covered in worn, gritty linoleum, led upwards. Leo took them two at a time, Viktor close behind, the wooden treads creaking loudly under their combined weight.
Leo's apartment door was on the second landing, marked with a faded brass '2B'. He unlocked it swiftly, shoving the door open. Inside smelled stale – old beer, lingering tobacco smoke, and something vaguely like sweat-soaked gym clothes. A cramped living room greeted them: a sagging brown couch faced a large TV, empty pizza boxes stacked beside it. A cheap laminate coffee table held overflowing ashtrays and a clutter of crumpled beer cans. Beyond, a narrow galley kitchenette was visible, dishes piled high in the sink. But Leo didn't pause. He kicked off his boots near the door, the thud echoing in the small space, and turned. His eyes, dark and hungry in the dim light filtering through a single dusty window, locked onto Viktor. "No Henderson here," he rasped. "Just me."
He didn't wait. In two strides, Leo closed the gap. His big hands grabbed Viktor’s shoulders, fingers digging into hard muscle, and shoved him backwards hard. Viktor’s spine slammed against the thin apartment wall with a dull thud that rattled a cheap framed picture. Plaster dust drifted down. Leo pressed his entire weight in, pinning him, his beard rough against Viktor’s jawline. "Exploit it," Leo growled, hot breath hitting Viktor's ear. One hand slid down, brutally fast, finding the thick bulge straining against Viktor’s uniform pants. Leo squeezed, hard, through the rough fabric. Viktor hissed, his own hands flying to Leo’s hips, gripping the worn denim tight. Leo’s other hand tangled in the short hair at Viktor’s nape, yanking his head sideways. "Show me what that goddamn oak tree taught you."
Viktor’s eyes scanned the cramped room – sagging couch, cluttered table, flickering TV screen. "Bedroom?" Viktor asked, voice strained against Leo’s crushing hold.
Leo barked a laugh, releasing Viktor suddenly. He spun, booted foot lashing out in a sharp kick. A flimsy oriental screen tucked into the corner clattered backwards, collapsing onto a pile of dirty laundry. Behind it lay a disheveled double mattress on the floor, sheets tangled, pillow askew. "Here you go," Leo gestured, already pulling his sweat-stained polo over his head. His hairy chest heaved, the buzz-cut gleaming under the weak overhead bulb. "Let's get naked." His belt buckle clinked open, denim shoved down thick thighs before Viktor could blink.
Viktor moved. Not fast, but deliberate. He shed his own polo, the damp fabric peeling off skin still humming from the diner coffee and Leo’s hands. His stab vest followed, landing with a heavy thump. His belt buckle snapped open, the rasp loud in the stale air. Uniform pants pooled around his ankles; he kicked them aside, stepping free onto the gritty carpet in just his dark briefs. The humid room clung to his exposed skin. Across the unmade bed, Leo stood equally bare, a twin monument of muscle and coiled power, legs planted wide. The air crackled – no fluorescent buzz now, just the frantic pulse throbbing between them.
Leo lunged. Not for Viktor’s throat, but lower. He dropped to his knees before him, thick fingers hooking the waistband of Viktor’s briefs. He yanked them down, freeing Viktor’s heavy erection fully into the humid air. Leo didn't hesitate. His mouth engulfed him in one hot, wet slide. Viktor gasped, head thudding back against the wall again. Calloused hands gripped Viktor’s thighs, blunt nails digging in. Leo sucked hard, deep, taking him impossibly deep, throat working.
A groan ripped from Viktor – primal, raw. His hands flew to Leo’s buzz-cut head, fingers twisting tight into the short bristles. He looked down. Saw his own thick cock vanishing into the wet heat of Leo’s mouth. Saw Leo’s beard scraping his thighs. Saw Leo’s own thick shaft jutting out, hard and flushed, bouncing slightly with the rhythm of his swallowing. Twin engines. Running hot.
Leo pulled back slowly, lips slick, leaving Viktor’s length glistening. He looked up, eyes dark pits of hunger. “Fuckin’ oak,” he rasped, breath hot on Viktor’s wet skin. Then he surged forward again, mouth wide, taking Viktor deep. Not gentle. Insistent. His throat muscles clenched rhythmically, massaging the thick intrusion. Viktor braced himself against the wall, hips stuttering forward instinctively, driving deeper into that wet furnace. He felt Leo’s teeth scrape lightly – a warning pressure, not a bite – just enough edge to make Viktor gasp. Leo’s hands roamed Viktor’s hips, his ass, squeezing hard muscle, pulling him impossibly closer. The scrape of Leo’s beard against Viktor’s inner thighs was rough, electric. The humid room smelled thickly of them now – sweat, musk, the faint metallic tang of pre-come. Viktor’s knuckles whitened against Leo’s skull.
"Enough," Viktor growled, voice thick. He hauled Leo up by the shoulders, a powerful surge that brought Leo stumbling to his feet, chests colliding. Skin slapped against skin, damp and hot. Viktor spun them, shoving Leo backwards with brutal force. Leo crashed onto the unmade mattress, bouncing slightly on the worn springs. Before Leo could react, Viktor was on him, knees straddling Leo’s thick waist, pinning him down. Viktor’s hand wrapped Leo’s weeping hardness, pumping it roughly, his thumb grinding the slick head. Leo arched off the mattress with a choked shout, eyes squeezing shut.
Viktor leaned down, his bald head brushing Leo’s buzz-cut. He gripped Leo’s jaw, forcing him to look up. "My turn," Viktor breathed. He slid down Leo’s body, leaving a trail of sweat. He bypassed Leo’s straining cock. Instead, Viktor’s broad shoulders pushed Leo’s thick thighs apart. He buried his face between Leo’s cheeks. A startled grunt escaped Leo as Viktor’s tongue – broad, hot, demanding – pressed hard against him. Not tentative, not gentle. A claiming. Viktor ate at him, rough and thorough, beard scraping tender skin, nose buried deep. Leo bucked, fists clenching the tangled sheets, a guttural moan tearing loose. The taste was musky, intimate, undeniably male. Viktor’s own neglected cock throbbed heavily against the mattress. He drove Leo higher, relentless, the wet sounds loud in the small, stale room. Leo’s choked cries were the only counterpoint.
Leo’s hand fumbled blindly, grabbing Viktor’s skull. "Enough," he rasped, voice shredded. "Need you inside me." He hauled Viktor upwards, fingers digging hard into thick shoulders. Their mouths crashed together – a messy collision of teeth, beard, and shared breath tasting of salt and desperation. Leo’s legs hooked around Viktor’s waist, heels digging into the dimpled flesh above Viktor’s ass. "Now," Leo demanded against Viktor’s lips. He reached down, spit slicking his palm before wrapping it around Viktor’s slick shaft, guiding the blunt head firmly against his anal sphincter. "Do it."
Viktor braced himself on thick forearms, muscles corded. He pushed, slow and deliberate, the initial resistance yielding with a gasp from Leo. Inch by thick inch he sank into that tight, clenching heat. Leo’s head flung back, tendons straining in his neck, a raw groan escaping as he was filled completely. Viktor paused, buried to the hilt, feeling Leo pulse around him. The air crackled. Sweat dripped from Viktor’s brow onto Leo’s hairy chest. Leo’s own cock stood rigid against his belly, weeping copious pre-cum. "Fuckin’ brick wall," Leo gasped, eyes burning into Viktor’s. "Move."
Viktor pulled back almost entirely, leaving only the head seated, stretched tight. Then he slammed home. A brutal, deep thrust that punched the air from Leo’s lungs and rocked the mattress frame against the wall. Dust drifted from the ceiling. Viktor set a punishing rhythm – short, sharp, powerful drives that hammered Leo into the mattress. Each thrust elicited a choked grunt from Leo, a gasp, a curse. The slap of skin on skin echoed off the peeling paint. Leo clawed at Viktor’s back, dragging red lines down sweat-slicked muscle. He met each punishing drive, hips lifting, taking Viktor impossibly deeper. The room swam with the thick scent of exertion, sex, and the cheap detergent clinging to the sheets. Outside, the distant rumble of the auto shop blended with their ragged breaths. Viktor watched Leo’s face twist – agony, ecstasy, pure need. Twin engines, roaring.
A subtle shift. Viktor leaned forward slightly, changing his angle by mere degrees, driving down and in. The effect was instant, electric. The thick ridge of Viktor’s cock plowed directly into the tight, swollen knot of Leo’s prostate. Leo’s entire body arched violently off the mattress, a raw, guttural roar tearing from his throat that drowned out the city noise. His eyes flew wide, unseeing, locked on the water-stained ceiling. “Fuck!” he bellowed, the sound primal, ragged. “That's it! Right fucking there!” His cock pulsed, untouched, pre-come spattering his heaving stomach. He bucked wildly, trying to impale himself harder on that perfect spot. “Don’t stop! Don’t you dare fucking stop!”
Viktor obliged. He locked onto that devastating angle, abandoning the brutal hammering for a relentless, focused assault. Deep, grinding thrusts, each one dragging his thickness directly over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Leo. He pistoned into him with controlled, devastating force, burying himself to the hilt on every stroke, the heavy slap of his balls against Leo’s ass adding a wet counterpoint.
Leo writhed beneath him, no longer roaring but keening now, a continuous, high-pitched whine of pure, unadulterated sensation. His heels dug deeper into Viktor’s flanks, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His cock, thick and flushed purple, bounced untouched, leaking steadily onto his stomach. Sweat plastered Viktor’s bald head, dripping onto Leo’s face as he leaned low, watching the wreckage he was causing.
Viktor’s own control was fraying. The tight, molten heat clamped around him, the slick slide, the raw sounds ripped from Leo, the sight of his mirror image undone beneath him – it was overwhelming. The pressure built low in his spine, coiling tight like a spring. He felt Leo’s inner muscles begin to flutter wildly around his cock, a frantic, involuntary spasm signaling the edge. Leo’s keening dissolved into breathless, shattered gasps. “Vik ... close … so fuckin’ close …” His hand scrambled, clumsy, finding his own neglected cock. He wrapped thick fingers around the base, squeezing hard, his eyes rolling back as Viktor continued his merciless assault on his core. “Do it,” Leo gasped, his voice shredded. “Fill me. Now.”
The command was all it took. Viktor’s hips snapped forward one final, brutal time, burying himself impossibly deep as the coil inside him shattered. A guttural roar tore from his chest, primal and raw, echoing off the peeling walls. His massive body shuddered violently, every muscle locking rigid. His cock swelled, pulsing hard within Leo’s clenching depths. Then it erupted. A hot, thick surge of cum flooded Leo’s bowels, the scalding pressure immense and undeniable. Viktor grunted, low and savage, with each powerful jet, his hips grinding instinctively deeper, pumping his release straight into Leo’s core. He could feel it, the sheer volume, the heat spreading inside the man pinned beneath him.
The sensation was too much. The scalding flood deep inside him, Viktor’s thick cock pulsing relentlessly against his prostate, the overwhelming pressure – it triggered Leo’s own detonation. His body arched off the mattress in a rigid bow, a silent scream contorting his face. His un-stroked cock jerked violently, thick ropes of pearly cum firing high into the air above his heaving, sweat-slicked torso. The first shot splattered hotly across his hairy chest. The second struck his throat. The third, thicker and pulsing, arced over his shoulder, landing with a wet slap on the tangled sheets beside his head. He convulsed with each eruption, his sphincter clamping down rhythmically around Viktor’s still-spurting cock, milking it as his own release painted his skin.
Viktor rode the waves of his own climax, feeling Leo’s inner muscles greedily milking him, drawing out every last drop. His vision swam, the cheap apartment dissolving into a haze of sweat, sex, and exertion. He slumped forward slightly, his weight pressing Leo deeper into the mattress, his forehead coming to rest against Leo’s damp, heaving chest. Their harsh breaths mingled, the only sound punctuating the thick silence beyond the distant city hum. Beneath him, Leo twitched sporadically, his spent cock lying heavily on his sticky, cum-splattered stomach. The air hung thick with the pungent scent of sweat, sex, and the sharp tang of semen.
Slowly, Viktor softened inside Leo. He pulled out with a soft, wet sound, his own release trickling out behind him onto the sheets. Leo hissed softly at the sudden emptiness but didn’t move, his eyes closed, chest still rising and falling rapidly. Viktor rolled heavily onto his back beside Leo on the narrow mattress, the springs groaning in protest. He stared up at the water-stained ceiling, feeling the cool air hit his own sweat-drenched skin. Leo’s hand, sticky and warm, found Viktor’s forearm where it lay between them. He didn’t speak. Just gripped it, fingers tightening briefly in a silent, powerful acknowledgment. Outside, the auto shop’s compressor kicked on with a sudden, grinding whine.
Viktor turned onto his side, facing Leo. The gritty carpet fibers pressed against his hip. Leo turned his head, opening his eyes. They were dark, unfocused, but aware. Viktor lowered his face slowly. His lips met Leo’s – not a clash this time, but a deliberate press. Dry lips against slightly chapped ones. The taste was still there – coffee, bacon grease, the faint metallic tang of their own mingled sweat and release.
Leo’s hand slid up Viktor’s arm, coming to rest on the back of his neck. He kissed back, slow and deep. It wasn’t fiery, not like before. It was grounding. Solid. A quiet sealing of something profound that needed no words. Viktor had fucked plenty. He’d been fucked. But this? The raw power, the perfect mirror, the bone-deep satisfaction of it? It was a first. A completion. He felt it echoed in the steady pressure of Leo’s mouth against his, in the rough pad of Leo’s thumb stroking the shaved hair at his nape.
They parted slowly. Leo’s eyes held his, a question forming in the dark depths. Viktor answered it by shifting closer, draping a heavy arm across Leo’s hairy torso, fingers splayed possessively over the cooling mess on his chest. Leo grunted, a sound of pure contentment, and settled deeper into the mattress, his own arm coming to rest across Viktor’s broad back.
The cheap clock on the cluttered bedside table ticked loudly in the sudden quiet. Viktor breathed in the thick air – sex, sweat, Leo’s musky scent mixed with stale apartment dust. He felt the slow, steady thump of Leo’s heart against his ribs. Fulfillment wasn’t a big enough word. It was like finding the missing piece of a heavy, complex machine he hadn’t even known was broken.
Leo shifted his leg, hooking an ankle around Viktor’s calf, anchoring them together on the sweat-soaked sheets. The compressor outside cycled off. Silence, thick and warm, settled over the shithole apartment.
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