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The steam was already thick when Marc stepped under the spray. I had left the bathroom door cracked on purpose. He knew I was still in the apartment. We had been friends long enough that neither of us pretended the air between us stayed simple.
I watched the water run down the hard lines of his back. My pulse kicked up the way it always did when he got quiet and close. I slid the glass door open and stepped in behind him. The heat hit my skin and the tiles felt slick under my feet.
Steam and Soft Hands
Marc turned. His eyes landed on me and stayed. No joke. No shrug. Just that slow look that said he had been waiting for this exact second. I reached past him for the soap and let my fingers brush his hip. He did not move away.
I worked the lather across his chest first. Slow circles. My palms mapped every rise of muscle while the water rinsed the suds away in rivers. When my hand dropped lower he sucked in a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. I wrapped my fingers around him and felt him thicken right away. The weight of him in my palm sent a rush straight through me.
I stroked him the way I had imagined more times than I would ever admit. Long pulls from the base up to the tip. A gentle twist at the head. My other hand rested on his stomach so I could feel every twitch. Marc braced one arm against the tile and let his head tip back. Water streamed over both of us. I kept the rhythm steady and teasing, never quite giving him the pace he wanted.
His voice came out low. “Alex… fuck…”
I smiled against his shoulder and tightened my grip just enough. The soap made everything slippery and perfect. I dragged my thumb over the sensitive spot under the head and watched his thighs tense. Every little sound he made pushed me deeper into the moment. This was not rushed. This was me taking my time with the guy I had wanted for months.
I pressed closer so my chest touched his back. My free hand slid down to cup him underneath while the other kept working that seductive handjob rhythm. Slow. Firm. Then faster when his breathing turned ragged. The shower filled with the soft wet sounds of my hand moving over him and the quiet curses he could not hold back.
When he finally spilled it was with a full body shudder. I stayed right there, stroking him through it until he was soft and spent and leaning into me. The water kept running. Neither of us reached for the faucet.
Marc turned and rested his forehead against mine. His hands found my waist. We stood like that for a long minute while the steam wrapped around us. Friendship had just changed shape and neither of us looked ready to pretend it had not.
I kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered, “Next time you leave the door open on purpose.”
He laughed, still a little shaky, and pulled me under the spray with him. The night was only getting started.
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Turning Out Pathetic Boys
I had Bryson over at my place on a quiet afternoon. He was supposed to help me move a few boxes, but the second he walked in and saw me standing there in just my shorts I knew the real reason he came. He always looked at me a certain way. Soft eyes. Nervous hands. The kind of look pathetic boys get when they already know they are going to end up on their knees.
I let him stand there for a minute while I finished a drink. Then I pulled the waistband of my shorts down just enough. My cock was already half hard, thick and heavy, the head shiny. Bryson’s mouth opened a little. He tried to look away and failed.
“You staring at it like you want it,” I said. “Go on. Get closer.”
He stepped forward like his legs were not fully his. I pushed my shorts the rest of the way down and let everything hang free. The weight of it made him swallow hard. I wrapped my fingers around the base and lifted it toward his face.
“Open.”
He did. No argument. Just that quiet little sound pathetic men make when they give in. I tapped the head against his tongue a few times, then pushed past his lips. Warm. Wet. His eyes flicked up to mine and stayed there while I fed him more. I held the back of his head and started slow, letting him adjust to the stretch. He was already drooling.
Making Him Take It
I kept my voice low and steady while I fucked his mouth. “That’s it. Look at you. On your knees for me like you were made for it. All that muscle and you still fold the second I pull my cock out.”
Bryson moaned around me. The vibration felt good. I pushed deeper until his nose pressed against my stomach and held him there. Tears started in the corners of his eyes but he did not pull back. He stayed. Good boy. When I finally let him breathe he was gasping, spit running down his chin, cock still resting on his tongue.
“Get on the floor. Hands and knees.”
He scrambled into position on the wooden boards. I spit on my cock, stroked it once, and lined up behind him. No condom. I wanted him to feel every inch and I wanted him full when I finished. I pushed in slow at first, just the head, watching the way his back tensed. Then I gave him the rest in one hard thrust.
He cried out. I grinned and started moving. Deep strokes that made the wet sound fill the room. Every time I bottomed out I leaned down and spoke against his ear.
“This is what you came for. Not the boxes. This. Being used by someone who actually knows how to own a hole. You are going to take every drop and thank me for it.”
I fucked him harder after that. Hands gripping his hips, pulling him back onto me with every thrust. The slap of skin got louder. Bryson was moaning into the floor, body rocking, completely open. I reached under and found his cock hard and leaking. I ignored it on purpose. He did not get to come yet. This was about me.
When I felt it building I leaned over his back and locked my arms around his chest. I slammed in as deep as I could go and stayed there, pulsing hard. Thick ropes of cum filled him while I kept grinding, making sure none of it spilled out yet. He shook under me. I stayed buried until the last twitch faded.
I pulled out slow. Watched the mess start to leak down his thighs. Then I stood up and looked down at him still on all fours, breathing hard, hole open and used.
“Clean yourself up when you can walk again. Next time you show up ready to work, bring that mouth first.”
I left him there on the floor while I went to get water. The room still smelled like sex and sweat. Bryson stayed quiet for a long time. When he finally moved he did it carefully, like his body already belonged to me a little more than it had an hour ago.
That is how it starts with the pathetic ones. One hard fuck and they keep coming back for more.