Power Play
Fresh from another intense workout, I pulled into the driveway, still feeling the satisfying tightness in my muscles. Instead of heading straight inside, I decided to drop in on my buddy Brian next door. I won’t lie—I was curious if Allan might be around, just to see how he’d react after our last encounter.
Turned out Allan wasn’t home, but I was happy to kick back with Brian for a bit. I sprawled in the armchair, legs spread wide, muscles stretching as I settled in, one arm draped lazily over the armrest. Brian lounged on the couch, scrolling through his phone, chuckling at memes before occasionally flashing one in my direction.
“Damn, you got a one-track mind,” I teased, flashing an easy grin. “Where do you even find this crap? You’re like a magnet for bad memes.”
Brian snorted, not looking up from his phone. “Says the guy whose entire personality revolves around lifting heavy things and putting them down again.”
I smirked, stretching just enough to make my shirt strain against my biceps. “This is what discipline looks like,” I said, flexing slightly, the thick vein along my arm rising against the tight fabric. “What’s your bench these days? One-seventy-five?”
Brian snorted, leaning back with a smirk. “Hey, I’m getting there,” he shot back. “What about you, Mr. Olympia?”
“Four-fifty,” I said casually, then let the moment linger. “On a light day.”
Brian rolled his eyes, laughing. “Showoff. Who needs to lift that much?”
“Someone who sets the standard,” I shrugged, the motion making my broad shoulders shift, my chest subtly expanding. My sleeves pulled taut as I rolled my shoulders, the fabric straining over the thick swell of my delts. “It’s not about needing to,” I said, stretching slightly, feeling the satisfying pull of muscle. “It’s about proving you can.”
Our banter cut off at the sound of the front door swinging open. From the family room, just off the kitchen, we heard footsteps in the hall. A few seconds later, Allan appeared in the doorway, a woman at his side, their conversation dying the moment they saw me. No doubt this was the on-again, off-again girlfriend Brian had mentioned.
Allan hesitated, his eyes narrowing. I smirked, catching the flicker of tension in his jaw. His companion, on the other hand, smiled—polite, but curious. Her gaze lingered on me, interest flickering in her eyes.
"Hey," Allan said, his voice tighter than usual. "Didn’t know we were having company."
Brian just grinned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "Noah’s family, bro. He doesn’t need an invite."
"Good to see you, Allan," I said, leaning forward just enough for my chest to flex subtly beneath my shirt. Then, with an easy smile, I turned to his girlfriend. "You must be Emily. Heard a lot about you."
Emily’s smile widened, a faint pink rising to her cheeks. "Nice to meet you," she said.
Before I could respond, Allan cut in, his voice a little too loud, words tumbling over each other. "Uh, yeah, this is Noah—he’s, um… Brian’s friend. He… comes over sometimes." His eyes flicked to me, a silent plea not to make this any worse.
I smirked, locking onto him as I said, "We always find ways to have a good time. Allan’s usually on the sideline, but lately…he’s been stepping outside his comfort zone." My tone was light, playful—but just sharp enough to make his jaw tighten, his shoulders stiffen. I held his gaze, letting the weight of my words settle. Then, just as his lips parted like he might protest, I smirked and threw in a slow, deliberate wink—just enough to make his pulse spike.
Emily just smiled, apparently approving of the view, her gaze lingering. Allan’s tension was palpable as he guided her toward the couch, his hand settling on her back—more claim than comfort. I leaned back, smirking, taking in the show.
Seeing Allan with a girl on his arm, just ten days after he’d hungrily worshipped my muscles and feasted on my cock, was almost cute. Like watching someone cling to a sinking raft, convinced it’ll keep them afloat in an ocean of denial. The memory of his eager surrender was vivid in my mind, and the contrast only made this moment more satisfying. If he thought parading Emily around would erase what happened, he was in for a surprise. Watching him squirm, fight against what we both knew to be true? That was the fun part. Allan wasn’t ready to face himself; but I had no problem leading him there, one step at a time.
So, Emily," I said, reclining with a lazy grin, "is Allan always this tense"—I shot Allan a pointed glance, my smirk widening—"or is that just a me thing? Wouldn’t want you thinking we don’t get along."
Emily blinked, startled, then let out a nervous laugh. "Uh, no, he’s not usually like this." Then, as if noticing it for the first time, she looked at Allan and murmured, "Actually… babe, you do seem a little on edge."
I stretched out comfortably, watching Allan squirm. "Nothing to be anxious about, man." I leaned back like I didn’t notice his jaw clench, letting the silence stretch thick and heavy. My gaze flicked to him—deliberate, challenging—before I stretched again, this time with purpose. My back arched slightly, my shirt riding up just enough to reveal sharp ridges of abs. I held the pose a moment too long before letting my shirt fall back into place. But not before I caught Emily staring, her gaze lingering, lips parting slightly before she glanced away, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes.
I let the silence sit, stretching out the moment, letting Allan feel the weight of it. No one spoke. I could see the tension in his posture, the flicker of uncertainty in Emily’s expression. “Relax, man,” I said, all casual ease—but with just enough bite. “I’m not here to steal your girlfriend.” My eyes flicked to Emily, playful. “But you can’t really blame her for looking, right?”
Brian was engrossed in his phone when it buzzed, cutting through the moment. Allan’s jaw clenched tighter. Emily blushed as her gaze darted between us, brow furrowing as she tried to decipher the energy shifting in the room. My smirk didn’t waver. The tension wasn’t just between Allan and Emily—it was weaving itself into the unspoken triangle we were forming.
Brian frowned at his phone, muttering. “Shit. Work emergency. Gotta bounce.”
He grabbed his keys, gave a lazy wave, and was gone before Allan could even protest, leaving the air even heavier in his wake. I let the silence settle—let Allan feel it. Then, with a slow grin, I broke it.
“Guess it’s just us now.”
I eased forward, voice dropping into a low, conspiratorial murmur. "It’s been a while since we hung out." My gaze settled on Allan, watching the way he squirmed. I could see it—his mind drifting back to the last time we were alone together, the memory pulling him under even as he tried to resist it.
Then, as if the thought had just drifted back to me, a slow grin spread across my lips. “Oh, right. Wasn’t it just last week I came over to use the pool?” I gestured out the window.
Allan jerked upright so fast his knee banged the coffee table. His face flushed, eyes darting everywhere but at me. "I’ll get drinks," he blurted out, his voice an octave higher than usual.
My smirk deepened, eyes locking onto him, holding him still like a hand on his chest. "Good idea," I said smoothly.
He returned a moment later, balancing three glasses of water, his grip unsteady. His movements were stiff, his eyes avoiding me. As he approached, I stood to meet him. My confident stride only highlighted his unease. When I reached for a glass, my fingers grazed his forearm—bare, warm skin. I didn’t pull away. Neither did he. I felt his hesitation, the tension coiling beneath his skin. His breath caught, and I could swear I felt a faint shudder before he quickly pulled back, his face flushing deeper.
"No protein shakes, huh?" I teased, letting the words settle between us, slow and deliberate. Allan’s jaw tightened, his fingers twitching like he wanted to fire back but couldn’t quite find the words, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
I ran a hand over my beard, the motion slow, but deliberate. My bicep swelled, veins erupting over the peak. Allan’s eyes flicked to it—a quick, involuntary glance. His lips parted slightly, like he might speak, but he caught himself, looking away as colour crept up his neck.
Emily broke the silence with a light laugh, her curiosity evident as she glanced between us. “It seems like you two have a lot of shared history.”
"Something like that," I said, taking a slow sip of water, letting the pause stretch just long enough to draw their attention.
"Back in the day, Allan used to babysit me. Always the one in charge." I let that sink in before meeting his gaze, smirk widening. "Funny how things change, huh?"
His jaw tightened.
I nudged him with my elbow, an easy motion for me, but for him, there was no resisting it. He stumbled, just a fraction, but enough. He recovered fast, but the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. He knew I’d barely exerted any effort, and that knowledge sat heavy between us. His jaw tightened, his breath shallow, as if he was forcing himself to stay composed, forcing himself not to acknowledge what we both knew.
"We've had our moments," I said smoothly, shifting my weight. My gaze lingered on him, deliberate. The quiet challenge in my tone hung in the air. He gripped the back of the chair like it was keeping him grounded. The energy between us crackled, thick and charged, like static waiting to spark.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Emily watching. Her gaze flitted between us, her head tilting slightly, as if trying to piece together what wasn’t being said. Emily’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer than before, her curiosity pushing her closer.
“How long have you been lifting, Noah?” she asked, her tone genuinely intrigued.
Perfect timing. I dropped into the armchair, sprawling out as it creaked under my weight, my arm draping lazily over the side, legs spread wide.
"Seven years," I said casually, shifting slightly as I leaned back. The motion made my arm flex, the muscle bunching up thick and solid, pressing against my sleeve. "Started in high school and never looked back."
Emily’s eyes widened, her breath hitching slightly as her gaze flickered over my bicep before snapping back to my face. Her lips parted, like she’d forgotten to breathe for a second. "Seven years? That’s a long time," she managed, her voice carrying a note of awe.
"It is," I agreed with a smirk. "But it’s worth it when you see the results. Brian’s always calling me a superhero wannabe. Spend enough time in the gym, and people start believing it."
Emily let out a soft giggle, her gaze flicking over me again. “Well, I see where Brian’s coming from,” she said, her cheeks coloring slightly. “You’ve got the muscles for it.”
I smirked. “You think so?” My tone was light, teasing, but I held her gaze, letting the moment stretch. "Guess that means all those hours in the gym paid off."
Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting in her seat. "Yeah, I mean… obviously. It’s kind of impossible not to notice."
I chuckled, stretching out even further. "Fair point. I weigh more than the two of you combined. Kinda overwhelming, huh?" As I said it, I flicked a glance at Allan—just for a second, just enough. His jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the couch beside Emily, though he still hovered stiffly, like he wasn’t sure if he should sit.
Emily blinked, her jaw slackening slightly as she grappled with what I had just revealed. “Wait, how much do you weigh?”
"Two-sixty-five," I said, my grin widening as I watched her reaction.
Emily exhaled a quiet laugh, eyes widening as if processing the sheer size of what I’d just described. I caught Allan watching her, his expression tightening as her interest became unmistakable.
“And you, Allan?” Emily asked suddenly, turning to him with a curious tilt of her head. “How much do you weigh?”
Allan’s face burned red, his shoulders drawing in as if wishing he could disappear. “Uh, one-twenty-eight,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper as he avoided my gaze.
The corner of my mouth twitched, my smirk deepening as I savored the contrast between us. Allan sat stiff and tight-jawed, while Emily’s gaze lingered on me. I chuckled, turning to him. “Dude, ever think about hitting the gym? Might do you some good.” I didn’t mind that it came off like a challenge—it kind of was.
“I’m fine,” Allan replied sharply, his tone defensive as he shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking everywhere except at me.
I leaned back in my chair, smirking. “Fine, huh? Cool. What do you lift these days?” His shoulders stiffened as he avoided my gaze. “What does it matter?” he muttered.
I shook my head. “It matters. Girls like a guy who can lift—you know, someone who doesn’t struggle with a grocery bag or moving furniture.” I glanced at Emily, raising an eyebrow. “Right, Emily?”
She giggled, cheeks turning pink. “Can’t say it’s not a bonus,” she teased, eyes flicking to my arms.
Standing slowly, I rolled my shoulders. The air in the room seemed to shrink as I filled the space. “Wanna see what I mean?” My tone was playful, but the challenge was unmistakable. I flicked a glance at Allan, catching the tight set of his jaw, before turning back to Emily. “Your belt will do.”
Emily blinked, looking down at her belt, then back up at me with wide eyes. “Wait, are you serious?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement and disbelief.
“Dead serious,” I replied smoothly, stepping closer. “You trust me, don’t you?”
As Emily stood up, Allan shifted forward, his hand twitching like he might stop me, but the words died in his throat as I reached for her belt. With a fluid motion, I lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, curling her effortlessly with one arm.
Emily let out a squeal of delight, her hands instinctively finding my bicep to steady herself. Her fingers splayed across the muscle, pressing lightly as if savouring its hardness. With a breathless laugh, she traced upward, nudging my sleeve higher so she could run her fingers over the bulging peak.
“Oh my God, Allan. Look! He’s actually doing it!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Jesus, your arm is solid—like, not even a little give,” she added breathlessly, her fingers stroking and pressing into my bicep as if testing its density. As I locked eyes with Allan, he stared, lips parted, his eyes darting between Emily’s hands on my arm and my purposeful gaze.
I grinned, holding Emily effortlessly in one arm, the muscle beneath her fingers flexing powerfully as her attention stayed locked onto me. "See what I mean?" My tone was playful but sharp, my gaze remained locked on Allan. "Bodybuilding isn’t just about strength," I said, smirking as I flexed subtly under Emily’s touch. "It’s about standing out. Owning the space. Making damn sure no one can look away."
Emily’s awed laughter spilled into the space, and my smirk widened. “And let’s be honest,” I added, curling her one last time while keeping my focus locked on Allan, “it’s a hell of a lot more fun being the one showing off than the one just watching.”
I lowered Emily slowly, setting her down with deliberate ease. She stumbled slightly, a breathless laugh escaping as she smoothed her hands over her belt, cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink.
Allan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his shoulders drawing in like he wished he could disappear. His gaze flicked between me and Emily, lips pressing into a thin line. Beside me, his wiry build looked almost fragile—a stark contrast that was inescapable. He wasn’t denying it, not really. But I could see it in his eyes—he was still coming to terms with just how different we really were.
“That was insane,” Emily murmured, a breathless laugh escaping as she steadied herself. “You’re a freak. Like, how do you even do that?” Her eyes flicked to my arm, lingering for a moment before her voice softened. “I’ve never experienced anything like that… It’s kind of overwhelming.”
I smirked, rolling my shoulder and tensing my bicep. “Nah, not a freak. Just intensely dedicated,” I said, my tone light but edged with confidence. My eyes flicked to hers, catching the way she lingered. “Though I’ll admit,” I added, watching her fingers twitch slightly as if debating whether to reach out again, “making you feel that way is part of the fun.”
Emily let out a small, shaky breath, her gaze still fixed on me. For a second, it felt like we were the only two in the room—until Allan shifted. Just a small movement—a fidget, a sharp breath—but enough for her to snap back to reality.
Her laughter tapered into a nervous giggle, and a new flush of red crept over her cheeks, like she’d just realized how deep she’d slipped into the moment. She turned abruptly toward Allan, her voice a little too bright, a little too eager. “Allan,” she said, forcing a light laugh, “you should feel it. It’s insane.”
Allan stiffened. His eyes widened as his lips parted, like he wanted to protest.
“Go on,” Emily urged, her voice light but insistent, her gaze flicking back to me like she couldn’t help herself. “You have to feel Noah's arm!”
Reluctantly, Allan stepped closer, his movements stiff and uncertain—like he was caught between resisting and giving in. His hand hovered in the air, hesitating just a moment too long before finally landing on my bicep. His fingers barely made contact at first, skimming over the muscle like he wasn’t sure if he should. But then, something shifted. His touch lingered. His palm settled more fully, fingers pressing in slightly, testing. Feeling.
I flexed, just enough for the muscle to push back against his touch, firm and unyielding. His breath caught in his throat.
“Tell me what you think,” I said, voice low, edged with amusement.
Allan nodded stiffly, his eyes glued to the spot where his hand met my skin. “L-like… granite,” he murmured, his voice thin, like he wasn’t fully aware he’d spoken out loud.
I let my smirk widen. “Didn’t think you’d be this into it,” I teased, shifting my arm slightly so the thick muscle shifted under his fingertips. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and he yanked his hand back like he’d been burned.
“That’s the same arm that just lifted your girl like she weighed nothing,” I mused, watching the color creep up his neck. “The one that made her squeal.” His fingers twitched at his sides, his shoulders rigid as his jaw locked. He took a sharp step back, gaze flicking to the floor.
I let the silence stretch, giving him just long enough to think he could escape it. Then, I called his name—low, smooth, expectant. “Allan.”
His head snapped up instinctively, and that’s when I flexed, my bicep swelling hard and thick in front of him, daring him to look away. He didn’t. My smirk deepened. “How big, Allan? Tell us… the number that has you staring.” I taunted.
Without skipping a beat, he softly gasped, “Twenty-one inches.”
Emily’s eyes widened as she let out a nervous giggle, fidgeting in her seat. “That’s crazy!” she said, her voice throaty, but there was something else in her tone—an awareness, a flicker of realization. Her gaze lingered between us, as if she was sensing the deeper current running beneath the surface. The playful tension had shifted, thickened into something more charged.
I winked at her, letting the silence stretch. They were both still caught in my orbit—Emily trying, and failing, to keep things light; Allan locked in tense silence, grappling with something he wasn’t ready to accept. Neither of them moved, both locked into the moment, waiting for me to set the pace.
"Damn, it’s warm in here," I muttered, gripping the hem of my shirt. In one smooth motion, I peeled it off, the fabric dragging over my skin before falling away. My pecs swelled with the movement, veins snaking down my biceps and forearms, thick and pronounced, mapping every ridge of muscle. The light cut sharp over my abs, each groove carved deep, striations flaring as I stretched lazily, rolling my shoulders. I’d pulled off my shirt plenty of times before, but never had it been this much fun.
Emily’s reaction was instant. Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing deeper as she fidgeted with the hem of her own shirt, gaze locked on me. But it was Allan’s reaction that held my attention. He stood rigid, his stare glued to my chest, lips pressing together like he was holding something back.
“Seriously?” Allan muttered, his voice low and strained. His eyes darted to Emily, then back to me.
A slow smirk spread across my face. I tensed my pecs deliberately, the thick muscle rippling like stone. “Something wrong, Allan?” I murmured, dragging my fingers over my chest, skimming along the striated muscle.
His jaw tensed, his gaze flickering to my pecs before snapping back to my face. He swallowed hard, then—barely above a whisper—“It’s… a lot.” The words came out strained.
My smirk deepened. “Yeah?” I let my fingers trail just a little lower before dropping my hand. “You’re thinking about last time… aren’t you? When you said I don’t play fair.” I flexed my abs just enough for the ridges to thicken, knowing exactly where his eyes would go. Then, bringing my arms up into a loose pose, I let my voice drop, making the moment heavier. “Two-sixty-five pounds of solid muscle in front of you, Allan. You’re feeling it. We both know it.”
Allan’s mouth opened like he wanted to fire back, but no words came. His gaze darted away, fingers tightening on the edge of the couch like a lifeline. But the flush creeping up his neck told me everything I needed to know.
I turned to Emily, shifting gears effortlessly. “What do you think, Emily? Is this too much for you? Should I put my shirt back on?” I leaned in slightly, giving her the full view of my chest and abs, every ridge and curve etched deep.
Her gaze drifted over my torso in a slow, hungry sweep before flicking quickly to Allan—like she was checking if she was allowed to stare. Then her eyes snapped back to mine, and she stammered, voice catching. “N-no, you’re fine. I mean… it’s fine,” she added quickly, her blush deepening. She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or spellbound.
I chuckled, straightening up and rolling my shoulders, letting the thick muscle bunch and shift with a slow, deliberate stretch. “Good to know. Wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” I flicked a glance at Allan, watching his shoulders stiffen, his jaw clench even tighter.
My smirk widened as I leaned forward slightly, flexing just enough for my traps to rise and my bicep to peak. “You know, Allan, you’re looking a little overdressed… Don’t you want to be one of the cool kids?”
Emily giggled softly, clearly caught up in the moment. “It’s only fair,” she volunteered.
Allan’s face turned crimson, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “I’m good, thanks.”
I chuckled, leaning back and stretching lazily, the motion making my abs ripple under the light. “Suit yourself,” I said, my tone rich with mock sympathy. “I mean, let’s be honest—not everyone has the physique for it.”
It was about the grip I had on him, about everything I was pulling to the surface. The tension, the shift, the reactions he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried. I could see it plain as day—the way he was still grappling with how I got to him, how deep under his skin I was, and his desperate, failing attempt to shove it all back into some neat little box, hidden from view.
But, I wasn’t about to let that happen.
I smirked, watching his posture go rigid, his arms crossing tightly over his chest like they could shield him from the weight of this moment. Allan had this vulnerability about him, a quiet fragility he didn’t even recognize—like a guy standing at the edge of deep water, thinking he knows how to swim, but not realizing how strong the current is. He wasn’t just unsure of how to handle me—he had no idea how unprepared he was for someone like me in his life. And I loved pushing. Watching him fight it, watching the cracks form, knowing he was already in deeper than he realized.
This wasn’t just about him. If I was being honest, it was about me, too. I was learning something here, something I hadn’t really put into words yet, but I could feel it. I liked this. The slow, steady unraveling of someone who thought they had themselves all figured out. Testing boundaries, finding limits, seeing exactly how far I could push before that final, inevitable surrender.
Allan was resisting me now, but I knew it was temporary. He wasn’t running from me. He was running from himself.
I stepped closer, my smirk widening as I watched him tense. “Come on, Allan,” I teased, voice low, edged with amusement. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin. Anxious about something?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sharp but lacking any real conviction.
But he didn’t move. He just stood there, stiff and frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. My grin deepened.
“Fine, huh?”
In one smooth motion, I hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him into a loose headlock. The thick curve of my bicep pressed snugly against his throat—not enough to choke him, but more than enough to make him feel helpless.
His breath hitched, his whole body going rigid against me. “What the—Noah—” His hands came up, instinctively gripping at my forearm, but I didn’t let up. I could have, but I didn’t. Instead, I just held him there, feeling the way his pulse pounded under my arm, the way his breath stuttered. His body wasn’t fighting—not really. It was reacting. Processing. Adjusting.
Emily was a fun distraction, but Allan? He was the real game. Today had never really been about her—it had always been about us. Pulling her into it wouldn’t change anything. Wouldn’t help Allan rewrite history. He wanted to challenge the version of himself I’d exposed, pretend that what had happened between us hadn’t cracked something open inside him.
And that meant I had to push harder.
I barely noticed his weak struggles—the way his fingers twitched, like some part of him still believed he had a choice. It was almost cute, watching him hesitate between resistance and surrender, like he didn’t already know how this ended. Like I didn’t already know. His body was light against mine, easy to control, easy to manipulate. The contrast only fed the slow burn of satisfaction pooling in my core—the hard, undeniable truth that I was stronger, bigger, built for this in a way Allan could never be. Holding him like this, his pulse fluttering against the thick curve of my bicep, his frame tense but trapped, sent a raw thrill through me.
He could squirm, could pretend he still had options, but we both knew the truth.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
And I wasn’t letting him go.
His breath hitched, his body tensing as he fought against the inevitable. “Noah—” his voice cracked, strained against the pressure winding around him. “Stop this!”
I exhaled a soft chuckle, feeling his body strain uselessly beneath mine. His muscles trembled—not from effort, but from realization. This was the moment he knew there was nothing he could do to stop me. I felt it in the way his body slackened for half a second before he fought again, weakly, as if to convince himself he hadn’t completely given in.
“Dude, are you even trying?” I taunted, flexing slightly, my bicep swelling harder against his throat. I leaned in, letting my breath fan against his ear, my voice dropping into something lower, more commanding. More intimate.
“Feel that muscle? Seven years of blood, sweat, and discipline.” I squeezed slightly, making sure he felt every inch of power wrapped around him. “That’s what it takes to be untouchable.” His breathing hitched, his body taut beneath my hold. I could practically hear the thoughts racing through his head, the silent war between his pride and the sheer strength locking him in place.
I pulled him just a fraction closer, my lips hovering near his temple—and that’s when he felt it.
My rigid swell pressing firmly against his ass.
Allan’s entire body went stiff. His breath caught in his throat, his wide eyes darting forward in sudden, unfiltered panic. He wasn’t just trapped now—he was vulnerable. I smirked against his skin, rolling my hips forward just enough to make sure he felt every inch of what was happening.
Slow. Deliberate. Unavoidable.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice dropping even lower. “Now you really get it, don’t you?”
His body tensed, fingers trembling against my arm, but he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not with me locked around him, not with my overwhelming strength pinning him in place. I felt it then—that moment of hesitation, of realization. His breath hitched, his muscles twitching like his body was still catching up to what his mind already knew. There was no escape.
I exhaled slowly, my breath ghosting along his temple.
“And this… this is what it feels like to be completely out of your league.”
I glanced at Emily, catching her staring, her lips slightly parted like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, what she was seeing. Her gaze flicked between Allan’s weak, struggling hands and the effortless way I held him in place, her cheeks flushed with a mix of awe and something else she probably wouldn’t admit. It wasn’t just my physique that had her captivated—it was the dynamic between Allan and I. The way I was effortlessly owning her boyfriend right in front of her. And, yeah, I loved it.
Her reaction fed the moment, pushing me to draw it out. I leaned back just enough to roll my shoulders, my bicep swelling even more against Allan’s throat as I shifted my stance, grinding my hardon against his toned ass. The friction was undeniable, and so was the way his breath hitched—sharp, unsteady. Emily’s eyes followed every movement, her breath catching softly, like she’d been momentarily stunned.
Allan sputtered beneath me, his protests hoarse and strained. “Noah, let go!” he managed, his voice cracking with frustration, but I barely acknowledged him. My attention was still on Emily—the way her awe lingered, her fascination so obvious it was almost embarrassing. For Allan, anyway.
What struck me most was what wasn’t happening. Emily wasn’t stepping in. Wasn’t telling me to stop. Her lips were parted, her breath shallow, but not with alarm. She wasn’t cringing or pulling away—she was watching too closely, soaking in every second. If anything, she liked this. And Allan? He had to be realizing it too. Whatever fight he had left wasn’t just against me, it was against the way this moment was shifting, slipping out of his control.
Allan’s squirming began to lessen, frantic shoves softening into hesitant, lingering strokes. His fingers curling slightly, testing the dense strength that pinned him in place. I felt it, that moment when his energy shifted—the exact second he stopped fighting and started feeling.
I rolled my hips forward. Slow. Measured. Inevitable.
The thick weight of my cock pressed deliberately against him, heavy and undeniable. I was making a statement. A demonstration. A reminder of just how much bigger I was.
Allan froze, breath hitching violently, fingers clenching against my arm. I smirked against his skin, lingering there just long enough for him to feel everything.
And then I moved.
I planted one leg forward and thrust my quad firmly between his legs, the thick muscle pressing against him. His thighs instinctively spread, straddling me. That’s when I felt it—his body betraying him completely. The hard ridge in his pants pressed against my quad, undeniable. A strangled breath left him, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Every movement dragged him against me, grinding helplessly, sealing his fate.
His wide, helpless eyes met mine, and for the first time, there was no defiance—just raw, unfiltered vulnerability. He knew I felt it. Knew I wasn’t ignoring the way his body reacted to me. And yet, I didn’t say a word. I just let him feel it, let him sit in the weight of this moment, knowing there was no taking it back.
His trembling fingers hovered near my chest, hesitating, uncertain. Then, almost involuntarily, they pressed against my chest, a light, shivering touch, feeling the dense muscle beneath my skin. He wasn’t pushing me away. He was holding on.
I shifted my quad, pressing harder into him. The firm, unyielding muscle ground against his trapped erection, and that’s when his fingers curled slightly. Not to resist. Not to fight back. To brace himself.
I leaned in, my lips inches from his ear. “You okay, Allan?” My tone was mocking but controlled, my bicep flexing deliberately against his throat with each word. “Are you ready for what comes next?”
I shifted my quad again, this time more deliberately, the solid muscle pressing harder into him.
And then it happened.
His gasp was sharp, guttural. His body convulsed. A shudder wracked through him, his entire frame seizing against mine as he came. Loud. Unmistakable. All-consuming.
His fingers tightened suddenly, gripping my pec, clutching it as if grounding himself in the only thing solid in that moment. For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then his body sagged slightly, the aftershocks rippling through him.
Still holding him firm, I chuckled with mock concern. “Oh, dude…” Tilting my head, I locked eyes with him, his face burning, crimson with humiliation. Slowly, I peeled him off my quad, spinning him around to face Emily. Her wide eyes dropped instantly to the large, wet stain spreading across the front of his pants.
Silence.
The contrast between her stunned expression and Allan’s shameful, dazed look was everything. He wouldn’t look at her. And she wasn’t looking at him anymore, either. Her gaze slid past him, lingering on me. The one who had just taken total control of the moment.
Her lips parted slightly, breath unsteady. She was still caught in the gravity of what had just happened.
I let my smirk linger as I ran a slow, deliberate hand down my chest, exhaling as though shaking off the last embers of pleasure. Then, stretching lazily, my abs rippled under the light, and I let out a satisfied hum.
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Well…” My voice was rich with amusement as I looked between them.
“That was fun.”
