Dalton’s house was exactly like Joey remembered. Same crew. Same mix of washed-up college athletes, dudes who peaked at 22, and girls who used to date them. The playlist hadn’t changed since graduation, the same bass-heavy beats rattling through the walls. The whole place smelled like cheap beer and cologne, bodies pressed close in the living room, voices loud and overlapping.
Joey stepped inside and didn’t have to look far.
Justin was dead center in the room, beer in one hand, talking loud, grinning wide. He was magnetic, laughing too big, taking up too much space, hyping people up like he was the host, not just another guest.
Joey barely had time to scan the crowd before Justin caught him.
“Reynolds!”
Before Joey could say anything, a cold beer was in his hand, and Justin’s arm was slung over his shoulders, pulling him into the fray.
“Ladies,” Justin grinned, nodding toward a few girls. “This is my boy Joey.”
The women gave him slow once-overs, their smiles tilting sharper.
“Damn, Joey,” one of them said, laughing. “You look exactly the same.”
A few guys came up—old teammates, gym rats, dudes who hadn’t seen him in years.
“Still lifting, huh?”
“Bro, you didn’t age.”
“You on something? No way you’re natty.”
Joey rolled his eyes at that last one but didn’t mind the attention. He had forgotten how easy it was to slip back into these rooms, how familiar the rhythm of these conversations felt.
Then, a hand clapped against his back, solid and heavy. Dalton.
They’d always gotten along, but they weren’t close. Dalton was built like a damn wall—broad, thick, the kind of dude who had always been big and only got bigger. He had a full beard now, dark and neatly trimmed, the same cocky grin he’d had since college. He looked like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast if Gaston had ever hit a deadlift.
“Joey fucking Reynolds,” Dalton said, grinning. “Been a minute.”
Joey shook his hand, nodding. “Yeah, man. Been a while.”
Dalton gave him a once-over. “Still jacked, I see.”
Joey laughed. “Yeah, well. You’re still built like a damn grizzly.”
Dalton smirked. “Comes in handy.”
Joey got comfortable. He had a few more drinks, caught up with some old friends, flirted with a couple of girls, let the night stretch out. The buzz settled in warm and easy, smoothing out the edges of everything.
Then, somewhere between refilling his beer and laughing at a dumb story, he realized—
He hadn’t seen Justin in a while. He asked around, again, not desperate, just looking.
Someone said Justin went downstairs with Dalton a while ago. Joey didn’t think much of it. He headed for the basement.
Dalton had been mid-renovation on the place for years, never quite finishing shit, always one step away from a full remodel. The basement was half-done: exposed drywall, old furniture pushed against the walls, dim lighting that made the whole place feel lower, closer.
Joey stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down. He could only see Dalton at first, sprawled out on the couch, arms stretched wide, head tipped back.
“Fuck yeah,” Dalton groaned. “So fucking good.”
Joey smirked. Nothing’s changed. Dalton getting head at a party. Classic.
Then he saw the head bobbing up and down in Dalton’s lap.
And then—Justin.
Justin sat back, wiping his mouth, a string of spit stretching from his full lips to the flushed head of Dalton’s cock. “Always hits the spot,” Justin said, grinning.
Dalton laughed, big hand rubbing over Justin’s buzzed hair. “How’d you get so good at this?”
They both cracked up, laughing even harder.
Joey didn’t wait. Turned, took the stairs two at a time.
No thoughts, no confrontation. Just walking back up, feet moving before his brain could process.
He didn’t grab a drink.
Didn’t say goodbye.
Just stepped outside, let the cold air hit his skin, and kept walking.
Next Monday, the gym felt normal. Joey hadn’t thought about it all day, hadn’t even considered if things with Justin would feel weird. But when he walked in and saw him, something felt different. Not bad. Just different.
Justin was the same as ever, grinning when he saw Joey, throwing his towel over his shoulder, already mid-convo before Joey even said anything.
“Dude, I was talking to Hayley at the party for a while,” Justin said, adjusting the weights on the bar.
Joey smirked, racking his dumbbells. “Yeah?”
Justin shrugged, easy. “She’s cool. You ever get with her?”
Joey exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Not my type.”
Justin grinned, dropping onto the bench. “You even got a type?”
Joey didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness before stepping in to spot Justin.
“Girls don’t really stick around long enough for me to figure that out.”
Justin pressed the bar off the rack, lowering it smooth to his chest. “Why’s that?”
Joey let out a slow breath, watching the bar move.
“I dunno, man. Feels like I’m always one step off. Like, it starts good, then they just... dip.”
Justin knocked out another rep, then another. “Maybe you’re just bad at sex.”
Joey scoffed, shaking his head. “The fuck?”
Justin racked the bar, sitting up, wiping sweat from his forehead, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying,” Justin said, casual. “You sure you’re any good?”
Joey laughed, but his brain flashed, uninvited, back to the basement. Dalton, head tipped back. Justin’s big, happy grin.
Justin sat forward, stretching his arms out. He looked exactly the same as he always did, like nothing had shifted at all. Joey shook it off, grabbed his water, and stood.
“Yeah, dude. I’m good.”
Justin grinned, nodding once like that settled it.
The water bubbled around him, steam rising thick in the dim lighting. Justin stretched his arms along the edge of the hot tub, eyes half-lidded, muscles loose and warm from the workout. This was the best part, when everything ached in the right way, when his body felt full, used just right.
That’s when he noticed him.
Short, thick, hairy where it counted. Caramel skin, broad chest, cocky grin that said he already knew how this was gonna end. Justin had seen him before. Never really thought about him. But now, the way the guy was looking at him? That did something.
The sauna was next. Justin sprawled back against the wood, sweat already slicking his skin. The guy sat a few feet away, watching. He wasn’t subtle about it. Towel loose, legs spread just enough. Big bulge, thick and obvious. Justin smirked, tilting his head slightly. Alright.
In the shower, the water ran hot, steam curling thick against the tiles. Justin let it wash over him, head tilted back, body loose from the workout. His muscles ached just enough, skin slick from the heat, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
Then the shower curtain opened quickly. Justin blinked, half-turning, water dripping down his face. It was the guy. He stepped inside, small, jacked, dripping, looking at him like he already owned him. Justin didn’t move. Didn’t have to.
The guy reached out, gripped Justin’s waist, spun him just slightly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands were rough, hot from the shower, calloused from lifting. Then they were on Justin’s ass, spreading him, fingers teasing at his hole.
Justin sucked in a breath, heart picking up. “You just gonna come in here and—”
The guy chuckled, running a thumb over his smooth pucker.
“Damn. Knew it was gonna be like this.”
Justin shuddered. Fuck. Then the guy spat on his finger, grabbed his cheeks, and slid inside him. Justin gasped, and gently worked his hole around him. The guy leaned in, mouth brushing his ear.
“I love white boys with smooth pussies and little dicks.”
Justin’s stomach clenched, cock twitched. His brain short-circuited. His dick wasn’t small-small, but he knew what this guy meant. The guy’s hand wrapped around Justin’s cock, fingers curling.
“Yeah, you know exactly what I mean.”
Justin let out a shaky breath, gripping the guy’s thick, hairy cock in return. The difference was stupid, obscene. Justin’s fit neatly inside the guy’s palm. The guy’s barely fit in Justin’s fist.
Justin stroked him, slow, feeling the heavy, dripping weight of it. Then the guy pressed in closer, teasing him open, rubbing against the heat of his hole.
“You need this big brown hairy horse cock up your smooth white boy pussy?”
Justin whimpered. His brain shut off. His body moved. He lifted one leg, bracing it up on the bench, opening himself wider. The guy lined up his fat cock head and pushed inside. Justin opened up and took it.
The showers were almost empty. Joey was rinsing off, towel slung over the bar outside his stall, barely thinking, muscles warm and loose from his workout. Then he heard it. A low noise. A sharp breath. He froze. Tilted his head slightly.
From across the aisle, behind the curtain of the next stall—movement. The sound of skin against skin. A whisper, muffled, close. Joey frowned, shifted slightly. Was someone…?
His stomach twisted, instinct screaming at him to just ignore it. But he glanced anyway. Just a peek.
The curtain was loose at the edges, steam curling around it. Inside, two bodies. One braced against the wall, leg up, back arched. One behind, moving, hands gripping tight. Joey’s breath caught in his throat. He knew before he really saw.
But then, one of them kicked back the curtain slightly. And Joey saw Justin. Mouth parted, panting. Getting fucked deep, rough, fast.
Joey’s stomach flipped. His skin went hot. He didn’t wait. Didn’t breathe. Just turned fast, grabbed his towel, walked straight out of the showers. Didn’t think. Didn’t process. Didn’t stop moving.
Got dressed, shoes barely tied, hands tight. Left the gym. Didn’t realize until he was halfway home, gripping the steering wheel too hard, that he had a massive fucking boner.
