With the click of the lock, the soft thud of his laptop bag against the floor, and the immediate loosening of his tie, Austin was home. He set his phone face down, the hook up app pings silenced. He was ready for a night in. Pizza and Netflix. And… the faint, familiar scent of cleaning spray… and sweat… and protein powder. Cade was home.
Austin found him sprawling on the living room couch, phone held loosely above his face. His broad, hairless chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of someone perfectly at ease. His short dark hair was still damp from a recent shower—that ridiculous caesar cut he’d sported since freshman year college. Still the same silver chain necklace too. Probably home just after a workout, gauging by the swell of his chest and biceps, pumped.
"Rough one, corporate slave?" Cade's voice was a low rumble, nearly monotone, his eyes still glued to his screen.
Austin stood in the doorway, well shaped forearms crossed—a flex that would have gotten the attention of any other guy. "Just saving the world, one spreadsheet at a time. Still on the job hunt, or are you just taking selfies of your abs again?"
Cade was an all-purpose jock. Always had been. Even more built than Austin, with his own chiseled abs—though most would say Austin was more handsome, amber eyed and year-round golden tan.
Cade chuckled, a deep, rolling sound, and stretched, muscles flexing smoothly beneath his ivory skin. "World’s not ready for me. Or my biceps."
Austin snorted, unbuttoning his fitted shirt. "If only thirst trap likes paid the rent."
Their conversation, their apartment—their lives—felt like a natural extension of the years in the dorm room they'd shared since freshman move-in day. Two strangers, two athletic scholarships, and an immediate, undeniable sync.
It was like they'd been custom-made for each other—a two-man unit navigating college life, then the first stumbling steps into adulthood. They'd spent countless hours at the gym, spotting each other on heavy lifts, reading each other’s effort, knowing instinctively when the other had given it all—needed to share the load.
Even now, Cade wasn’t a guest. While he was out of work he quietly anchored their domestic life, shouldering the daily upkeep that Austin’s busy schedule often precluded. He could be a total space cadet, but somehow the apartment was always spotless and the fridge never empty.
They were practically a couple, everyone joked—and they were, almost. Eighty percent of the picture was perfect. It was just that last twenty that didn’t quite fit the frame.
As Austin pulled a glass from the cupboard he studied Cade on the sofa, in the early evening light. The natural athleticism in his form, the power he’d painstakingly built in it still gave Austin a dull pang of desire. He’d gotten used to it—like a favorite ache you lived with so long you couldn’t remember a time without it.
Cade was perfectly comfortable with Austin being gay—he’d proved it hundreds of times. But Cade was just as relentlessly, unapologetically straight. That was the chasm no amount of shared history or natural fit could fully bridge, the one problem—at least from Austin’s perspective.
It wasn’t that Austin didn’t lack for opportunities. He had his own nights out, his own string of hook ups and dates. But in the end he always returned home. Life with Cade, imperfect as it was—that was the real deal, the eighty percent. The last twenty that Cade couldn’t or wouldn’t give, that was the compromise.
Sometimes, when the apartment was quiet and the TV flickered blue shadows on the wall, he let himself imagine: what if Cade was the kind of guy who wanted him—not just mostly, but all the way? He never lingered on it long. Reality was already pretty damn good.
He leaned against the counter, his well shaped forearms crossed—an unconscious flex that would have gotten any other guy’s attention. "Netflix and pizza?"
Cade finally looked up from his phone, his voice carefully flat. "Nah, man. Got plans. Going out."
Oh. Okay. That usually meant just one thing.
"By the way," Cade said, his voice casual, but shifting topics. "Did the internet bill come in? I got a loan from my dad so I—"
Austin waved a dismissive hand, already knowing the answer, already handling it. "Nah, on autopay. I got it."
It was their unspoken agreement, another piece of the load Austin willingly carried.
Austin spent the next hour or so in a familiar rhythm—ordered Thai, picked out a movie he’d been meaning to watch. He ate slowly, his phone buzzing with pings, new messages from profiles he’d swiped right on earlier in the day. He didn’t need to look to know, no. Not tonight. He wasn't interested in a random hookup, a pale imitation of the singular intimacy he knew was coming.
After cleaning up, he showered and finally settled into bed, the screen glow of his phone a small beacon in the dim room. He was just drifting off when he heard the muffled sound of the apartment door opening and closing softly. An eager giggle, Cade’s low murmur.
Austin didn't need to open his eyes to know Cade wasn't alone.
Her feminine voice seemed odd, out of place in the masculine retreat of the apartment. Then Cade again, clear enough to catch a phrase. "Told you I'd be worth the wait." His Boston accent always seemed more pronounced during a hook up.
Her response was immediate, a breathless laugh. "Oh, I believe it." Jesus, she practically purred.
Austin pictured it: Cade probably resting a hand on the top of the door frame—his V-shaped torso on full display, radiating potent jock energy. Effortlessly drawing her deeper into the apartment, into his bedroom—as if there was any question where they’d be headed.
He heard the patter of her heels and then the deeper fall of Cade’s steps behind her. The distinctive click of Cade’s bedroom door, a pause and then the faint squeak of bedsprings.
And then, the real show began.
It started subtly—a rhythmic creak that built slowly, but undeniably. Then murmurs deepened into groans, sharp intakes of breath, the unmistakable sounds of the bed pushing against the shared wall—bodies pressing, pushing.
There was a reason he called Cade “the machine” in college, and that hadn’t changed. The machine was at work.
Cade’s unbridled energy and the strength of his body—honed for sports and the gym, repurposed for sex—was always effective at drawing out the groans and cries of the girls under him. That and the rest—the rhythmic creaks of the bed, the hammering at the wall—it was all par for the course.
Austin rolled his eyes at the ceiling, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. He’d heard it all before, and if he was honest, he half-enjoyed the performance, already half-hard by the time the first headboard thud landed.
A consuming wave of anticipation built in him, and he twice checked to be sure his door was slightly ajar—and then a third time. The crucial invitation.
Then, a sound that cut through the wall—a high, drawn-out cry, female screams that broke into raw, shuddering moans, and then again, the bed slamming harder. The machine was in full throttle.
Austin knew that sound, knew its timing. Cade always made sure she got off before he did—whichever she, of the countless shes. It was part of his M.O., part of why he was the machine. And for Austin, it only intensified the raw anticipation.
Looking down at his own sculpted body, he’d never understand why Cade went for that when he could have all of this. Sex with guys was so much better—none of that fake screaming, just honest grunts and two hot loads. At least they had their ritual—the unspoken bond no one else could touch.
He knew the sounds of Cade’s own building climax, and imagined it—sweat slicking his broad back, his body a force of nature. Beads dropping from the handsome slope of his nose. The pace picked up, then hard slams, Cade’s guttural “Hnnnh. Hnnnnh. HNNHH—”
Then, abruptly, it stopped. The rhythmic pounding fell away into heavy silence. A few hushed words. Austin inferred the rustling of clothes, then the bathroom door closing after a flush. And she was gone.
The apartment was still, but the silence hummed with a different kind of energy now. Austin tried to keep his heart from pounding hard, staring at the sliver of light from the hall falling through his slightly ajar door.
Then, the slow pad of bare feet on the hardwood floor, coming directly to Austin's room. Every muscle in his body tightened as the door swung open.
Cade stood there. Naked.
He filled the doorway, a familiar silhouette against the faint glow from the living room. Even so, Austin could sense the grin forming on his face. He stepped into the room, catching the dim light from the window.
His skin was flushed, glistening, muscles visibly pumping from his recent exertion. His broad, hairless chest heaved softly with each slowing breath—a raw, post-fuck heat that hit Austin like a wave.
Cade’s mouth quirked. “She’s gone,” he said, voice low and casual. “But I saved something for you.”
In his hand, held high, like a peace offering, the condom, the head full and swaying, almost hypnotic as it hung from his fingers.
Austin’s lips curled, eyes flicking from Cade’s face to the condom. “You always know how to make a guy feel special.”
Cade stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot. “You want it?”
Austin nodded, keeping his gaze steady. “You know I do.”
Cade crossed the room, slow and deliberate, climbing up onto the bed, nearing Austin. He dangled the condom just out of reach, grinning. “You gonna beg for it this time, or just take it like a champ?”
Austin cocked an eyebrow, hand sliding under the covers. “Why don’t you see what you can get out of me?”
Cade chuckled, low and warm, settling his weight, his calf brushing Austin’s. “Every time, man. You never disappoint.”
Despite his tone, Austin was aware of a subtle clench of his jaw, a momentary tightening that spoke of the choice—a small sacrifice made for this exact moment. He’d never said it—never would—but he could have gone condomless, found more pleasure. But here he was, holding the proof of his singular affection for his friend.
He leaned in, close enough that Austin could taste the salt on his skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say please.”
Austin hesitated for effect, then: “Please.”
Cade grinned, satisfied, and brought the condom to Austin’s lips. “Open up, champ.”
Austin parted his lips, looking up at Cade through his lashes. “Don’t get cocky.”
Cade snorted. “Little late for that.”
He tilted the condom, letting the semen pool against the tip. “All for you. Don’t waste a drop.”
Austin wrapped a hand around Cade’s wrist, steadying him, and let Cade pour the load into his mouth. It was warm, not hot, coating his tongue and throat—the metallic tang, the visceral texture. His gag reflex fought it for only a split second, and then, his Adam's apple bobbing, he swallowed it down, a total body peace washing over him.
As Cade’s seed went down his gullet a deep groan rose from him—his muscles tensed, his body seized as he shot his own load. His shuddering breath was filled by Cade's fuck scent, and past that his beauty, the raw reality of his load.
Cade watched, pupils a little blown, breathing picking up again. His cock twitched, hardening a fraction more—the machine, never fully at rest. His thumb brushed Austin’s hip, and for a second, it looked like he might let himself get pulled under, too—but then he pulled back, settling for a soft nudge of his knee against Austin’s. “You know this gets me going, right? It’s fucking hot, seeing you do that. Just… not like that.” He gestured vaguely toward the door, where the girl had left.
They both understood. They had since the first time, in the dorms—half-drunk, half-dare, but the moment when they found the most honest expression of their friendship. When the last wall almost came down.
Cade pulled back, swung his legs over the side of the bed, the mattress creaking softly. "I need a shower." His voice was already returning to its familiar, easy tone.
He pushed himself to his feet, thighs flexing, his entire body still covered in a sheen of sweat, his semi catching the light. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed the condom into the small waste bin near the door. The soft thud was barely audible.
For Austin, the intense haze was beginning to recede. He heard the bathroom door open, then the familiar rush of water. Well. He might fish out the condom later, if he was still restless.
He moved with quiet purpose, knowing Cade would be starving after that kind of exertion. In the kitchen he pulled out a few leftover Thai takeout boxes from the refrigerator, and assessed the options.
He set a pan on the stove and began to combine the remnants, cleared a spot for two whisked eggs, creating a new, impromptu rice noodle dish with quick stir-fried bok choy and chicken, a thin sliced omelet on the side. The scent of garlic and soy quickly filled the apartment, beating back the lingering remnants of perfume and the steam from the bathroom.
A few minutes later, Cade emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a low-slung towel that clung to his hips, the few stray dark hairs on his lower abs trailing into it. He padded into the living room, heading for the couch, grabbing the remote, water still beading on his back.
Austin carried the steaming bowls into the living room and settled onto the opposite end of the sofa from Cade, setting the bowls on the sofa tray between them.
Cade flipped through channels. He knew what they both liked, what they both abided, finally settling on a compromise.
Austin picked up his own bowl, chopsticks poised, nudged Cade's bowl closer to him— pushing it gently into his reach.
Cade took it without looking. “Thanks,” he muttered softly, taking a first mouthful, a plume of steam rising from his perfectly carved lips.
Austin let himself settle into the couch, warm and loose from food and sex and the simple comfort of the room. He could see Cade’s towel had unfurled, one end covering the rise of his cock, a hip carelessly exposed.
This was the part he’d miss most if it ever ended—the easy after, the shared routine where nothing had to be said. Tomorrow would be more spreadsheets, more of Cade’s dumb playlist blasting as he carefully, lovingly, cleaned the stovetop. Austin found himself looking forward to it.
They weren’t perfect. Not the whole package. But eighty percent? That was a hell of a start. And if that was possible… what about ninety? Or all the way?
Austin caught Cade’s eye, a slow smile passing between them. Whatever the future held, for now, this was more than enough.
END
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