Adam stepped into the gym like a man stepping into a church—not for prayer, but for ritual. The clang of metal, the grunt of effort, the thick scent of sweat and rubber flooring. The body was made better through pain, through repetition.
He liked that. The rhythm. The structure. The way everything had a process.
He wrapped his fingers around the barbell, feeling the rough knurling bite into his palms. He braced, pulled, held. Blood roared in his veins, muscles locking tight, every fiber straining as he brought the weight up in a controlled arc.
He exhaled. His body felt good, obeying without hesitation. The weight hit the floor with a solid thud. Again. Again.
Then something else crashed. Adam’s head snapped up.
Over by the climbing wall, a set of free weights tumbled across the floor. Some guy, tall, lanky, scrambled to pick them up, muttering something under his breath.
Adam barely noticed him. His attention had already been pulled upward.
To him.
Noah.
Halfway up the climbing wall, moving like gravity was a suggestion.
Adam had seen him before, but didn't actually know his name. A climber’s build, lean, compact, but strong. Something about today made him stand out.
Maybe it was the way the light caught the clean definition of his back, muscle shifting beneath skin like water over stone. Maybe it was the way his shorts clung tight when he stretched higher, exposing a strip of smooth stomach, the firm curve of his glutes tightening with every pull.
Adam stood up, resetting his stance. But his eyes stayed on him.
Noah climbed like someone who had done this a thousand times, and maybe he had. His body moved as if it already knew the way, hands gripping, fingers flexing, legs adjusting, torso folding into itself only to extend again.
Adam recognized it. That effortless movement that only comes from hours of work, of failure, of learning the right way to do something until it became instinct.
Then Noah glanced down. For half a second, their eyes locked. It felt like forever.
Then Noah slipped. Not much, just a shift, a second of uncertainty. A fraction of hesitation too small for anyone else to notice. But Adam caught it. The quick jerk of his hands gripping tighter, the sharp inhale of breath.
For some reason, Adam wanted to reach for him. It was gut instinct, that moment of seeing someone stumble and moving before you think.
But he was halfway across the gym, and Noah wasn’t actually falling, and before he could even register why his body reacted like that, Noah recovered.
Adam breathed out. Then he smiled. What was that?
He didn’t know the guy. Didn’t need to save him. The thought amused him, right up until he felt his cock moving in his gym shorts, thickening with slow, unmistakable intent.
Oh.
The realization hit too late, because it was already big. The tight compression fabric of his shorts made it obvious. He glanced down, a split second of Are you serious right now? before his brain caught up to what was happening.
Middle school. That’s what it felt like. Like some idiot kid popping wood in the middle of class because his dick had its own fucking agenda. For a second, he actually laughed at himself, shaking his head.
Sure, gym horniness was a thing—he wasn’t oblivious to that. He got why some guys thought sex in the locker room was hot. It just wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t above it. He just thought it was rude.
The gym wasn’t a sex club. It was the gym. You lifted, you worked, you got better. You didn’t get off here. And he especially didn’t. But right now—fuck.
Right now, he needed to get off the gym floor. Adam sighed, adjusting himself as subtly as possible, not looking at anyone, and made his way toward the locker room.
The shower was hot. Adam held himself against the tiled wall, eyes shut.
He shouldn’t be doing this. But fuck it. He was so hard, already leaking. His cock felt heavy in his palm, too full, too thick, and the second he wrapped his fingers around it, his mind slipped back to the wall.
Noah. Not climbing anymore. Kneeling. Adam’s breath stuttered, his grip tightening.
The image came fast: Noah’s fingers curled against the tile, his other hand moving through Adam’s thick bush, fluffing it up like a crown. Noah, wrapping his fingers around his big, full balls, tight against his thighs.
His strokes started lazy. Just chasing the heat, letting himself feel the weight of his bone, the pressure building in his balls.
But the image wouldn’t leave. Noah’s mouth, pink and unsure, lips parting around his head, the slow press of his wet mouth. His hands on Adam’s thighs, bracing himself. The slick slide of his tongue.
Adam groaned, his body jerking as he came. He watched his sperm spill from him, thick, white, watched the water take it, carry it away in weak, swirling spirals down the drain. And for some reason that’s what got him. It was wasted.
A strange, visceral feeling, something he’d never thought about before, but suddenly, he did. His sperm wasn’t supposed to just go nowhere.
It was supposed to be received. It was supposed to go inside. And without meaning to, his mind filled in the blank. Noah.
The thought struck him, sharp and deep. His chest felt tight.The water poured down his back, but he still didn’t feel clean.
Noah lay awake.
His body was spent, forearms burning with that familiar post-climb soreness. He should’ve passed out the second he hit the bed. But his mind wouldn’t shut off.
The air in his room felt stretched at the edges like something viewed through water. His sheets were too warm. His breath felt too loud. He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
But it wasn’t the ceiling he saw. It was that guy. Adam. The way he had looked at him. Noah swallowed, shifting against the sheets.
And then Noah had slipped. It wasn’t a bad slip. Just a moment where his foot didn’t land exactly where it should have. A mistake he normally wouldn’t make. And he knew Adam had caught it.
That should have annoyed him. Instead, it made him feel…excited?
It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t anything. He just needed to sleep. But now, the moment kept replaying, changed into something else. He wasn’t just slipping anymore. He was falling. And Adam was there at the bottom, waiting.
Noah swallowed. His skin felt hot. He turned onto his stomach. Go to sleep. It didn’t matter. Adam was still there.
The clinic’s air hit cool against his skin, still flushed from the heat of his post-workout shower. Adam rolled his neck, let the sterile scent of antiseptic ground him. The shift from gym to work was muscle memory—fast, practiced, necessary.
He flipped open his schedule, scanning the patient names. Just another day.
Noah Young.
The name meant nothing to him. At least, not right away. He barely glanced, just skimming for details. New eval. Shoulder strain. Rock climber.
Adam’s fingers stilled. A climber.
His mind flicked back—fast and sharp—before he could stop it. Quick flex of fingers gripping the wall, the fluidity of movement. The way Noah had looked down. The way his foot had slipped.
Adam breathed in, steady. He checked the file again. Mild strain, likely from overuse or a bad landing.
And just like that, the name wasn’t nothing anymore. A slow awareness settled in his chest, a weight he hadn’t been expecting.
“Huh.”
His intern Jake glanced over. “New eval?”
Adam blinked, flexing his grip on the clipboard before answering. “Yeah. Rock climber. Shoulder strain.”
Jake hummed. “Think he’ll be a good patient or a pain in the ass?”
Adam glanced at the file again.
We’ll see.
Noah stepped into the clinic, one hand gripping his hip, jaw tight. The limp was getting worse, and he knew ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away.
The receptionist gave him a clipboard. “Take your time filling this out.”
Noah nodded, dropping into the nearest chair. He clicked the pen a few times, restless, before dragging quick, impatient strokes across the paper.
By the time an attendant led him down the hall, he was already half regretting being here.
“You can undress and sit on the table,” she said, flipping through his chart.
Noah stepped into the exam room. It smelled clean but warm, like cedar and something dark beneath it. A smokeless incense curled from the corner, subtle, grounding.
He peeled off his shirt. Hooked his thumbs into his shorts, easing them down. His blue briefs sat low on his hips, snug against his skin.
Noah climbed onto the table, stretching out, paper crinkling beneath him. His legs dangled over the edge, his breath steady but shallow.
The door opened. Adam stepped inside. They made eye contact. Froze. For a second, neither of them said anything.
Then Noah grinned. “Hey.”
Adam’s mouth twitched. “Small world.”
“Guess so.”
Adam set his clipboard down. “I take it climbing’s not going great?”
Noah huffed a laugh. “It was going fine. Until it wasn’t.”
Adam nodded, stepping closer. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Noah hesitated, shifting. “Should I—uh—do you want me to move or—?”
“No, you’re good,” Adam said. But then he hesitated, his hand hovering slightly before actually making contact.
Noah noticed. Felt it.
His mouth twitched again. “Nervous?”
Adam smiled. “You can relax. I’ve done this a lot.”
“Right.” Noah smirked. “That’s why you look like you’re afraid to touch me.”
Adam locked eyes with Noah for a moment then firmly pressed his hands to Noah’s thigh, assessing.
Contact. Heat. Adam let his fingers press deeper into muscle, tracing the sharp edge of Noah’s hipbone, following the strain where tension gathered. Firm. Slow. Deliberate.
Noah’s breath caught. Adam moved lower, palming the meat of his thigh, his thumb pressing along the grooved line where muscle connected. Noah’s skin was warm, the heat of his body sinking into Adam’s hands. Then he needed more room.
Without thinking, he gathered up the fabric of Noah’s briefs, pressing them between the smooth curves of his glutes, pulling the material tight. The soft cotton bunched, stretching high between Noah’s cheeks.
Adam realized what he’d done half a second too late. Why did he give this guy a fucking wedgie? His stomach dropped. Fuck.
Noah made a small, breathy sound, shifting. Tensed, just for a second. Then relaxed. Adam didn’t look at his face. He couldn’t.
Instead, he ignored what just happened and worked his fingers into the thick band of muscle, pushing deep, steady, mapping him. He pushed deep into the thick band of Noah’s hamstring, dragging along the groove where it met the curve of his ass. Adam loved the way the skin changed there, from firm muscle to something softer.
His mind flickered lower again. To where the fabric disappeared. To what was just beneath it.
To Noah’s—
His—
Adam’s brain stalled. The word for it. What was the word for it? His breath slowed. His hands pressed firm. Noah shifted, tilting forward just slightly, hips pressing into Adam’s palm. Adam’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled slightly, the barest twitch. Fuck.
What was the clinical word? His mind fumbled. Not hole, not pucker, not—
Anus.
Yes. That was the correct word. The one that meant nothing. The one that didn’t call it anything else. But now it was stuck there, looping, burning into his thoughts. Noah’s anus.
Adam swallowed hard, his cock achingly full, trapped against the front of his scrubs. Noah exhaled, deep, slow, like he was settling into the moment. Adam blinked hard, forcing himself back into his body. Pulled his hands slightly higher, dragging his thumb away from where he’d been about to press.
Noah sighed. A slow, satisfied sound, then shifted again, his ass pressing just slightly into Adam’s palm. Noah’s body was so fucking responsive. His touch had been firm the whole time, clinical enough. But right now, right here, Adam could feel the difference. the way Noah wasn’t resisting anymore.
And he knew. Knew that if he moved his thumb just a little lower, it would press into something softer. Knew that if he hooked his fingers under the band of those briefs, pulled the fabric aside, he would see.
Noah inhaled. Adam’s pulse jumped. He stepped back.
“Alright.”
The word left his mouth fast, too sharp, like a snap-back to reality. His hands dropped from Noah’s skin like they’d burned him. Adam cleared his throat, voice smooth.
“Let’s go over what’s happening with your hip.”
Noah blinked, exhaling like he’d forgotten they were doing an actual exam. Adam took a step back. Grabbed his clipboard, gave himself something to hold.
Focus. Be normal. His voice stayed steady.
“You’ve got a mild strain in the tensor fasciae latae—this muscle here.” He pressed lightly at the front of Noah’s hip, where he’d already been working. “That’s what’s pulling on the iliotibial band, which is probably why you’re feeling pain near your knee, too.”
Noah nodded, rolling his shoulder. “That checks out.”
“You’ll need to focus on deep tissue release and strengthening your glutes to balance the pull on your hip flexors. Keep climbing, but ease up on aggressive dynamic movements for a few weeks.”
Noah gave him a look. “So, no big jumps?”
Adam smirked. “Not if you want to keep walking.”
Noah huffed, grinning. “Fine. Guess I’ll have to climb like an old man for a while.”
Adam almost laughed. Because Noah was still sitting there, briefs still bunched high between his ass. And Adam was still hard. Still thick and obvious, cock pulsing against his scrubs. Noah knew. Adam could tell because Noah’s gaze flicked down. A quick, sharp glance at his lap—just enough for the corner of his mouth to twitch.
Slowly, Noah sat up. Noah caught his reflection in the mirror. The way his thighs looked, spread just slightly apart. He looked at Adam. Then back at the mirror.
And then, so fucking slowly, he hooked his thumbs into the fabric. Dragged it free. Pulled it out with a little tug, a little shake of his ass that made the soft cheeks jiggle slightly.
Adam felt it in his chest, in his boner. Noah pulled his shorts on, standing too close for a second too long. Adam’s throat was dry. But when he spoke, his voice was perfectly steady.
“Make another appointment in a week with Liza.”
Then, just as he turned toward the door, he smiled. Just a little. Noah saw it. And his stomach flipped.
The apartment breathed around them, voices rising and falling, the deep hum of a record playing somewhere out of sight. Noah walked in with a few friends, still limping, but he was ready to chill out. He liked the vibe, maybe it would be a good night.
Noah saw Adam first. The pull was like a thread caught on something deep inside him, tightening with each second he let himself look.
Adam’s sweater stretched tight across his chest, his jeans clung in places Noah wanted his hands to go, high on his thighs, snug at the curve of his hips, the faint press of his cock beneath the denim. Noah swallowed, pulse thick in his throat. He remembered that bulge. It was so unprofessional. He laughed softly to himself. Why did he love it so much?
Adam leaned easy against the kitchen counter, beer bottle in hand, fingers absently trailing through the sweat. Noah tracked the slow, casual shift of his stance. A thought popped up: how it would feel to press against him, to feel the warmth of his stomach under that fucking sweater.
Noah forced his eyes away. Then Adam looked up. His gaze landed heavy, something unreadable. Noah felt it in his chest, in his stomach, his hole tingling in his briefs. He squared his shoulders, feigning easy, but it was already too late. Adam had caught him looking.
A friend unknowingly pulled them together. “Oh, hey—Adam, meet Noah. You guys might actually know each other. Adam’s a physiotherapist. He’s very fancy.”
“Yeah.” Adam’s smile was slow, deliberate. “We’ve met.”
Noah smiled a little faster. “Yeah. Briefly.”
They talked. About climbing, about the city, about nothing in particular. The words didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Adam listened, how his attention was steady, deliberate. What mattered was Noah’s body, hyperaware, skin too tight, breath too slow.
Adam was looking too. The curve of Noah’s ass in his jeans when he moved, the way his jacket fell open just enough to hint at the sharp cut of his waist. It was unconscious at first, instinct, but then it wasn’t. Then it was something else entirely.
They reached for drinks at the same time. Noah’s fingers grazed the rim of his glass just as Adam reached for the bottle beside it. The space was too tight, the air too warm. Noah shifted back.
But his hip clipped a chair. A second, maybe less, and Adam’s hand was on him. It wasn’t a grab. Just a firm, solid press at the small of his back, fingers spanning wide, heat bleeding through the fabric of Noah’s shirt.
Noah inhaled, sharp, from the way his skin recognized the touch before his mind could catch up. The pressure of his palm right over his spine, his thumb tracing just slightly, grounding him.
A pause where neither of them moved. And then Adam’s hand fell away. Like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.
The party noise blurred at the edges. Adam’s voice came low, even, but there was something new in it.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Noah’s breath came too quick. “You didn’t.”
Adam didn’t say anything. A beat passed, then another.
A friend called Noah's name from across the room, a gentle pull back to reality. He hesitated. Adam didn’t.
“We should do this again,” Adam murmured.
The words shouldn’t have made Noah’s stomach tighten the way they did. He should have answered quicker. Instead, his fingers twitched around the edge of his glass, his pulse hammering at the base of his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, steady despite everything else. “I’d like that.”
Days pass between texts, but there’s no sense of waiting, no ache of uncertainty. It’s just a matter of time. It’s an easy rhythm, but beneath it, something simmers. A slow burn gathering at the edges, making everything sharper, more unbearable.
Noah sends a picture of a book he’s reading. You’d like this one. You ever read it?
Adam replies hours later, no rush in his response. Not yet. What’s it about?
Noah could summarize the plot, but instead, he tells Adam about a single line that got to him. Adam doesn’t skim past it. He asks why. Noah stares at his screen too long before answering.
They see each other at the gym more often. At first, it feels coincidental. Eventually, it isn’t.
Noah is stretching when Adam passes by, slowing just enough to let his gaze linger.
“Try adjusting your stance a little.” Adam’s voice is quiet, but it lands low in Noah’s stomach, curling hot at the edges. He looks up.
Adam crouches beside him, close enough that Noah can feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his skin, clean sweat, that scent from the clinic, woodsy.
“You’re putting too much pressure on your knee like that.”
Noah shifts, adjusting. Adam watches, eyes flicking down, tracking the movement—not just assessing, but looking.
“That better?” Noah asks, voice tight.
Adam tilts his head slightly, considering, then nods. “Yeah. Feels more stable, right?”
It does. But it also feels like something else.
Adam stands up as if to go, but then stops. Touches Noah’s shoulder.
“Come get coffee with me.” His tone is easy, but there’s something in the way he asks that makes it feel different. Like it isn’t just coffee.
He swallows. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
They end up in a quiet pocket of the city, at a coffee shop tucked between buildings, the kind of place with soft lighting and a quiet hum. The air smells like espresso and something sweet, vanilla, maybe.
Adam leans back in his chair, thumb running idly along the rim of his mug. His forearms are bare, sleeves pushed up, the muscle shifting subtly as he moves. Noah catches himself staring and looks away before it turns obvious.
“I’m not really looking to rush into anything,” Adam says.
His voice is even, unhurried, the words laid out casually between them. But there’s something else beneath them, some space for honesty that makes Noah’s stomach tighten.
He exhales, then nods. “Same.”
It’s not a rejection. It’s not even hesitation. It’s an agreement that whatever this thing is between them, whatever it could be, needs to breathe.
They linger. The café thins out, but neither of them makes a move to leave. Noah doesn’t expect the conversation to slip into something deeper, but it does.
Adam mentions his father in passing, his voice even, controlled, but there’s something else beneath it.
“We’re not distant, exactly,” Adam says, rolling his coffee cup between his hands. “We just… don’t talk much about anything real. He’s supportive in his way.”
Noah exhales a short laugh, but it’s empty, humorless. “That’s better than nothing.”
Adam glances up. An eyebrow raised, waiting.
Noah doesn’t mean to say it, but the words slip through anyway. “My parents…did not support me.”
He laughs that bitter laugh again. Adam doesn’t look away, doesn’t shift in discomfort. Noah doesn’t talk about his parents. Doesn’t let people ask. But Adam isn’t asking. He’s just there.
Noah shrugs, looking past him, toward the window. “It was just… normal. Until it wasn’t.”
The simplicity of it lands harder than any long-winded explanation ever could. Adam doesn’t say anything right away. Noah doesn’t realize how much that matters until he’s already breathing easier.
They don’t leave until the café closes, until the last of the chairs are stacked and the music cuts off into silence.
They stop at Noah’s car, words tapering off, neither of them moving to leave just yet. Adam’s gaze flickers to Noah’s mouth, then back up. He leans in. It’s not sudden or rushed. It’s just the obvious next thing to do.
The kiss is soft, exploratory. A slow press of lips, the barest hint of warmth. Noah resists the urge to pull Adam closer, to open his mouth and taste. And then Adam exhales against him, so softly it barely exists, but Noah hears it.
“You’re so pretty.”
It hits Noah like a punch to the stomach, something deep in his chest caving in. Heat flares through him, sharp and sudden, curling at the base of his spine. The word burrows deep, sets roots before he can stop it.
Adam pulls back, just enough to see him. He watches him for another beat, then steps back, deliberate.
“I’ll see you later,” he murmurs.
Noah swallows. “Yeah.”
He stands there for a minute after Adam is gone, his hands shoved into his pockets, his lips still tingling.
Noah hadn’t been at the gym long before Adam found him. Not by accident. Adam didn’t linger by the dumbbells, didn’t catch his eye in the mirror first. He walked straight up to Noah, like it had already been decided. Adam’s voice was low, steady.
“Spot me.”
Not a question. Noah’s stomach tightened. He didn’t hesitate. He followed. Adam led him to the squat rack.
Noah stood just behind him, waiting as Adam stepped under the bar. His stance was wide, grounded, shoulders squared as the weight settled across his back. Adam adjusted his grip. Every motion was deliberate, the slow inhale, the shift of weight, the thick, solid mass of his thighs as he lowered.
Noah’s fingers hovered near his waist. Just in case. Adam pushed back up, muscles flexing beneath his sweat-damp shirt. Noah swallowed.
Another rep. Another. On the last one, Adam paused. A half-second too long. The strain flickered across his body, tight and purposeful. Noah reacted instinctively. His hands landed on Adam’s waist. Bracing. Grounding.
Adam exhaled through his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite a sound. But he had felt it. The moment Noah touched him like that.
Adam racked the weight. Noah let go. Adam turned his head, just enough to catch Noah’s eye.
“Come to dinner with me.”
Noah exhaled, steady.
“Yeah.”
Dinner was easy. That was the first thing Noah noticed. He’d expected some kind of tension, some kind of anticipation that made it hard to sit still. But sitting across from Adam, it just felt right.
The restaurant was quiet, intimate without trying to be. Adam had picked the place, and Noah hadn’t even asked where they were going. He had just gotten the text, gotten in his car, and shown up.
Now, with a beer in hand and half a meal between them, he realized they had barely talked about anything that mattered. Adam was watching him like he was figuring something out. Noah swallowed, taking another sip of his drink. Adam’s voice was calm, easy.
“I like knowing where things stand.”
His tone was easy, but Noah caught the weight behind it. It wasn’t a demand, but it wasn’t nothing. He felt his stomach tighten, not with anxiety but with the slow, growing certainty that this was already in motion.
A moment passed. Then another. Noah set his drink down and met Adam’s eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve figured out where things stand yet.”
Adam hummed softly, tilting his head like he was considering something.
“You will.”
Adam smiled. Noah shook his head.
“You’re a little cocky, you know that?”
Adam smirked, his fingers still idly tracing the curve of his glass. “You like it.”
Noah opened his mouth then he closed it. Laughed a little. Because, yeah. He did.
Adam’s eyes flicked downward, just for a second. It was barely anything, a quick glance, but Noah felt it. Adam’s voice was steady when he spoke.
“Come home with me.”
Noah curled his fingers around his glass, feeling the condensation cool against his skin. He didn’t think long. He didn’t need to.
“Okay.”
The apartment door closes behind them, locking out the rest of the world. They stand in the dim glow of Adam’s living room, the space between them thin as a breath, stretched tight with expectation.
Adam lifts a hand, slow, deliberate, and Noah stays still. His fingers catch the edge of Noah’s shirt. A question. Noah doesn’t answer with words, just a single, sharp swallow, then, finally, a nod.
Adam pulls his shirt up, baring him inch by inch. Smooth skin, lean muscle, small pink nipples, the sharp lines of his collarbones and the faint definition of his stomach. Noah’s chest rises and falls unevenly.
He takes a breath in when Adam’s palms settle against his ribs, broad and warm, dragging slow across his torso, tracing the ridges. Noah’s body responds. His stomach tenses, his back arches just slightly into the touch.
Adam quickly peels off his own shirt. The contrast is stark. Adam is broader, solid, all carved strength and thick muscle, a dusting of dark hair curling over his chest. Noah stares before he realizes he’s staring.
Adam watches him watch then unbuckles his belt. The silver catches the light as he slides the leather free in a slow, measured pull. Noah doesn’t move. He watches as Adam pulls it loose, as the soft rasp of it scrapes through the belt loops, as it falls heavy onto the chair beside them.
Adam unzips his pants and they hit the floor. Adam steps out, standing in his white boxer briefs, bright against his skin.
And Noah sees him. Thick, heavy, straining against the fabric of his briefs. The outline of Adam’s cock is unmistakable, pressing, obscene in its size even though he isn’t fully hard.
Noah sways slightly. Adam notices. He steps forward, pressing close.
Noah can feel it now, the heat, the weight, the way Adam’s cock nudges against him through the last layers of clothing between them. The need to touch sweeps through him, fast and overwhelming, but he’s too aware of Adam watching him.
Then Adam moves. His fingers skim Noah’s lower back. Noah arches just slightly in response. Adam finally speaks, voice low, steady.
“Your turn.”
Noah’s fingers tremble slightly as he undoes his own jeans. He pushes them down, the denim slipping over his thighs, pooling at his ankles.
Adam’s breath catches. Noah is wearing a baby blue athletic thong. He put it on kind of as a joke, thinking that the thong part of the jock looks like how Adam had bunches his briefs up at the clinic. The way Adam looked when he saw it here, Noah knew he got the joke.
Adam is taken, the way it looks on him, the waistband clinging to his narrow waist, yanks Adam straight back to the clinic, to the way he’d hooked his fingers into the waistband of Noah’s briefs and yanked them up tight.
“Turn around.”
Noah blinks, heat crawling up his neck.
“What?”
Adam’s fingers find his hip, turn him gently but firmly until Noah is facing away from him, his bare back toward Adam, his ass exposed by the thin strip of blue fabric between his cheeks.
“Show me,” Adam murmurs.
Noah exhales shakily but obeys. He shifts his weight slightly, adjusting his stance just enough that the string of the thong disappears deeper between his cheeks.
Adam exhales, low and dark. He reaches, hooks his finger into the waistband, tugs just slightly, making the fabric snap against Noah’s skin.
“You put them on for me?” Adam muses, voice thick with approval. Before Noah can answer, he says “Good.”
Adam turns him again, hands firm on his hips, bringing them chest to chest, their bodies aligning like it’s inevitable. His hands slip down, over Noah’s ass, fingers tracing the edges of the thong. He tugs at the string. Just enough for Noah to feel it.
“You like this, don’t you?” Adam’s voice is deep, rough. “Looking like this for me.”
Noah swallows, his stomach tight, the fabric stretched tight between his legs.
“Yes,” he breathes.
Adam's hands are firm when they settle on Noah’s hips, steering him backward, guiding him toward the bed with slow, steady intent. Each step forces Noah to move with him, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He wobbles slightly, caught off balance for a fraction of a second.
Adam catches him. His grip tightens just enough to keep Noah grounded, then he presses forward, crowding into his space. The heat of him is overwhelming, his big penis thick and insistent against the front of Noah’s thong, heavy where it rests against the tight pouch.
Adam watches him and smiles.
“You want to see it?”
Noah nods before he realizes he’s nodding. Adam laughs, low and satisfied.
“Then take them off.”
Noah blinks. Adam steps back slightly. His white boxer briefs stretch tight over his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination. The thick shape of him is obscene, pressing against the cotton, the wet outline of the tip already visible where he’s leaking through the fabric.
Adam doesn’t move. Noah’s stomach tightens. His fingers tremble slightly when he reaches forward, hooking them into the waistband. He hesitates. Adam waits. Noah exhales, then pulls.
The waistband drags down, sliding over the deep cut of Adam’s hip bones, over his thick thighs, and then Adam’s cock springs free, thick and flushed, already hard, already leaking. The sheer weight of it makes it bounce slightly before it settles, heavy against his thigh.
Noah stares. Not just at the size, though that alone is enough to make his breath go shallow. It’s the shape of him. He swallows hard, dizzy.
“What do you think?” Adam's voice is calm, steady, but there’s something hungry underneath. Noah licks his lips, words catching in his throat.
Then, finally, he breathes, “Fuck.”
Adam smirks.
“You’re gonna take it,” he says, the words deliberate, spoken like a promise. “All of it.”
Noah’s breath shudders out of him. He nods. Adam moves.
In one smooth motion, he grabs Noah and drags him onto the bed, shoving him down onto the mattress. Noah barely has time to react before Adam is on top of him, between his thighs, his bare cock pressing up against the soft pouch of Noah’s thong.
Noah whimpers. Adam rolls his hips, slow, pressing his thick length right against the stretched fabric, grinding himself into the soft, confined space. The friction is too much, too good, too unbearable.
Noah exhales sharply. “Adam—”
Adam presses down harder. Noah moans, his head tipping back, his hands gripping Adam’s arms, holding on as Adam rocks against him again.
Adam watches him. Watches the way Noah squirms, the way his lips part. Then, he flips him over. Noah yelps, gasping as Adam manhandles him onto his stomach, his knees pressing into the mattress, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
Adam spreads him. Slow. Purposeful. His hands skim the bare curves of Noah’s ass, tracing the edges of the thong where the fabric disappears deep between his cheeks.
Adam groans. Then, finally, he hooks his fingers under the string and pulls it aside.
Noah sucks in a breath.
Adam stares.
Takes his time.
Then, low and satisfied, voice full of something Noah has never heard from anyone before, he murmurs,
“There it is.”
Noah shivers.
Adam presses his thumbs into the soft curves of his ass, spreading him just enough to see everything.
“Your sweet pink anus.”
Noah whimpers, his fingers clutching at the sheets, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The words settle deep inside him, making his stomach twist, making his hole twitch in anticipation.
Adam hums, low and pleased. His thumbs press into the soft curves of Noah’s ass, spreading him wider, exposing him completely. He doesn’t move fast. He just watches.
“So fucking pretty.”
The words are quiet, almost reverent.
Noah trembles. He feels wide open, feels Adam’s gaze heavy between his cheeks, feels the heat of his breath hovering just over him.
Adam moves closer. Warm, slow exhales against Noah’s exposed hole, making him squirm. Adam chuckles. His thumbs slide inward, pressing gently along the edges of Noah’s rim, not stretching, just teasing, just feeling.
Noah lets out a high, desperate little sound.
“You like that?” Adam murmurs.
Noah nods furiously against the pillow, but Adam tuts softly. “Uh-uh,” he says, dragging his thumbs lightly over the tight ring of muscle, tracing it, circling it but never pushing in.
“Say it.”
Noah’s voice catches in his throat. His body is on fire, his skin flushed, his hole clenching under Adam’s teasing, desperate for more.
“I like it,” he whispers.
Adam grins against him.
“You like what?” His fingers tease closer, just barely skimming over the sensitive skin. Noah gasps, his entire body shuddering.
“Say it, baby. Tell me what you like.”
Noah squeezes his eyes shut, mortified, wrecked. But he wants it.
Wants Adam to keep doing it.
Wants Adam to know.
“I like it when you play with my sweet pink anus.”
Adam groans.
“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs, voice thick with approval.
And then he leans in.
His lips press against the tight pucker, kissing it softly, gently, like it’s something precious. Something meant to be worshiped.
Noah gasps.
Adam kisses again. Slow. Wet. Open-mouthed. His tongue flicks out, just barely, just a whisper of contact.
Noah shudders, back arching.
“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue slowly, deliberately over the tight, trembling ring.
Noah gasps, thighs jerking.
Adam licks deeper, firmer, his tongue flattening against him, pressing inside just a little, making Noah cry out.
“You’re already opening up for me,” Adam purrs, lapping at the rim, teasing the tight muscle, feeling it flutter under his tongue. “Your little hole’s already begging for my cock, isn’t it?”
Noah moans, legs trembling, his body betraying him.
Adam flicks his tongue right at the center, making Noah sob.
“It’s gonna feel so good, baby,” Adam continues, his voice low, filthy. He spits onto the twitching hole, then spreads it with his thumbs, rubbing his saliva in slow, circular motions.
Noah whines. His cock is dripping onto the sheets, untouched. Adam leans in again, kissing the stretched rim, sucking it gently, licking into it, making Noah sob against the mattress.
“You like this?” Adam murmurs. “Like me getting your sweet little anus wet for my penis?”
“Yes,” Noah gasps.
Adam grins.
“You’re gonna look so good stretched around me,” he murmurs. His thumbs drag Noah apart, holding him open so he can see. “Gonna spread you wide, make you feel every inch.”
Noah whimpers, body tensing.
Adam kisses him there again, tongue teasing, licking deep, making sure Noah is soaked, ready.
“You were made for this, baby,” Adam murmurs. “Made to get stretched out, made to take my cock.”
He presses the thick, wet head of his cock against Noah’s slick, needy rim, rubbing it over the twitching hole, teasing him, making him ache.
“And I was made to be inside you, Noah. That’s what I was made for.”
Adam keeps Noah spread wide, his thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh of his ass, holding him open like something precious, something made for him. His cock throbs, thick and flushed, the heavy tip rubbing slow, teasing circles over the twitching pink ring, coating it in slick.
Noah’s breath is ragged, his body trembling. His fingers clutch at the sheets, desperate for something to ground him, but there’s nothing. Just Adam. Just the overwhelming heat of him, the impossible thickness, the sheer weight of knowing what’s about to happen.
Adam hums, low and pleased.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging the swollen head of his cock over Noah’s stretched, glistening hole. “Already so open for me.”
Noah whimpers, hips twitching, but Adam’s grip tightens, stilling him.
“Easy,” Adam soothes, rubbing slow, lazy circles around the tight ring of muscle with the tip of his cock. He watches as Noah clenches, as his body tries to pull him in, but he doesn’t push inside yet. Not yet.
“You feel that?” Adam says, voice like a purr, like something dark and sweet. “Feel how big I am?”
Noah gasps, nodding frantically, his hole fluttering under the teasing pressure, aching for more.
Adam smirks.
“It’s gonna be a lot,” he says, dragging the head down, pressing just a little more firmly. “Gonna stretch you so fucking wide, baby. Gonna make this sweet pink hole take me all the way in.”
Noah whimpers, voice shaking.
Adam leans in, lips grazing the back of Noah’s neck, his breath warm against flushed skin. He rubs himself against the tight, slick entrance again, watching the way Noah shudders beneath him.
“You ready for me, baby?” he murmurs, his voice thick, full of promise, full of something Noah doesn’t know how to name.
Noah swallows hard, his entire body trembling.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, Adam, please.”
Adam groans, gripping Noah’s hips tighter, positioning himself just right, lining up at that perfect, aching entrance.
“That’s my good boy,” Adam praises, voice dark with approval.
The first push in is excruciating. It’s always been like this for Adam, and he has come to enjoy the way he can cause pain, knowing that it will quickly turn to pleasure.
Noah gasps, his eyes squeezing shut, fingers digging into the sheets. Adam stills. Waits. Presses his lips to Noah’s jaw, his throat, murmuring quiet things, steadying.
“Breathe,” Adam orders, voice thick with restraint.
Noah does. And then Adam moves. A deep, slow rhythm. A promise. Noah clings to him, overwhelmed, opening beneath him.
Every inch is too much. And it feels exactly right. Noah’s moans shift from soft to desperate. His thighs tremble, his back arching, body answering before his mind can.
Adam doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t pull out. He leans down, lips brushing the shell of Noah’s ear.
“Say it.”
Noah blinks, dazed. “What?”
Adam thrusts deeper, his breath warm against Noah’s skin.
“Say you’re taking my penis inside you.”
Noah shudders, the words catching in his throat.
He swallows hard. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper:
“I’m taking your penis inside me.”
Adam groans, thrusting again. “Say it again.”
Noah trembles.
“I’m taking your penis inside me.”
Adam thrusts harder, deeper. “Say it again.”
Noah doesn’t hesitate.
“I’m taking your penis inside me!”
Adam exhales against his throat, satisfied. He moves deeper, a steady, relentless rhythm. Then, in a voice full of something devastating, Adam murmurs,
“Your anus looks so pretty all full of my penis.”
Noah breaks.
Adam starts to pick up the pace, pounding Noah’s hole, pushing in so deep and pulling it out, watching Noah’s pink hole swell and drag.
Adam’s breath picks up, and his move on their own, pounding against Noah’s bouncy butt cheeks, his big bush slamming against Noah’s pink hole.
Finally Adam lets go and shoots an enormous amount of sperm deep inside Noah. He stays buried deep.
“You’re taking all of my sperm,” Adam breathes against his skin. Noah whimpers. “Say it.”
Noah’s voice is wrecked. “I’m taking all of your sperm.”
“And you want it.”
“I want it. I want it. I want your sperm, Adam.”
Adam groans, his grip tightening, holding Noah there as if he can make him feel it, make him understand.
Noah gasps, realizing he does.
Adam exhales and pulls out long and slow, his gaze fixed between Noah’s spread cheeks. His cum is starting to seep out, slick and thick, spilling from the raw, stretched ring of Noah’s hole. The sight of it makes Adam’s stomach tighten, his cock twitching despite how spent he should be.
He reaches out, almost without thinking, his fingers brushing against the mess, spreading it, smearing it slightly around the rim. Noah shivers beneath him, a soft, sound slipping from his lips.
“Fuck,” Adam mutters under his breath. His thumb presses gently, feeling how warm and slick it is, how Noah’s hole twitches under the attention, still fluttering, still open, still so fucking wet. He’s never seen anything this beautiful.
Noah shifts slightly, adjusting his hips, but Adam doesn’t let him move far. His other hand presses firmly against Noah’s lower back, keeping him there, keeping him open.
“Look at this,” Adam murmurs, almost to himself, his voice thick with awe. “You’re still leaking, baby. Still full of me.”
Noah lets out a soft whimper, burying his face in the sheets. His whole body feels loose, fucked-out, but Adam isn’t done yet. Not with looking. Not with touching.
Adam strokes a slow, lazy circle around Noah’s rim, watching the way more of his cum spills out in thick, creamy trails, glistening against the flushed pink of his stretched hole.
“Messy,” Adam murmurs, dragging his fingers through it, rubbing it in, pushing just the tip of his thumb inside, feeling the slick warmth before pulling it out again. “You like this, don’t you?”
Noah makes a choked sound, his thighs trembling. He’s beyond words, beyond thought, just a body responding to Adam’s voice, to Adam’s hands, to the way he’s being held open and looked at, claimed even after it’s over.
Adam smirks, satisfied. He leans down, presses one last kiss to Noah’s swollen rim, licking into the mess, tasting his own cum mixed with Noah’s heat.
Then, finally, he pulls back, exhaling sharply as he kneads Noah’s ass, one last indulgence before he moves. His voice comes low, deep, reverent.
Adam groans, his fingers tightening around the soft flesh of Noah’s ass. He should be done. Should be spent. But as he stares down at Noah’s stretched, glistening hole, still slick with his sperm, his cock twitches, thickening, already hard again.
Noah shifts beneath him, exhausted, boneless, but still open. Still his. Adam exhales sharply, dragging his cock along the mess he’s made, rubbing the head over the flushed, wet ring. He watches the way Noah’s body responds instinctively, the way his pucker twitches, still loose, still inviting.
His breath catches. He can’t resist. Slowly, he lines himself up again, pressing forward, feeling the heat, the stretch, the way his cock sinks back into the wet, welcoming clutch of Noah’s body with ease.
Noah gasps, his fingers curling into the sheets, a soft, desperate noise slipping from his throat. Adam groans, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.
He stills. Holds himself there. Just feeling it. Just savoring it.
His voice is low, thick with satisfaction. He leans down, pressing his lips to Noah’s ear, his breath hot against his skin.
“I’m just going to leave this right here for a bit, baby.”
Noah shudders beneath him, his body tightening around Adam’s cock, but he doesn’t protest. He just exhales, sinking deeper into the mattress, into Adam’s hold.
Adam smirks, hands sliding up Noah’s spine, pressing him down, keeping him exactly where he wants him. He closes his eyes, enjoying the heat, the perfect fit of Noah’s body wrapped around him.
For now, this is enough. Just being inside him. Adam whispers softly to Noah.
“This is what we’re made for.”
A long moment passes, thick with the weight of it all. Adam slips out of Noah slowly, gently, and this time, there’s no teasing as he watches his sperm spill out. Instead, he presses a warm hand against the small of Noah’s back, grounding him.
“Stay here,” Adam murmurs, his voice softer now.
Noah barely moves, barely makes a sound as Adam leaves the bed. A minute later, he’s back, a warm cloth in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. He nudges Noah onto his side, brushing damp hair off his forehead before pressing the water bottle into his palm.
“Drink,” Adam says, and for once, Noah doesn’t argue.
He takes slow, small sips as Adam works the cloth over his skin, wiping him down with care. Between his thighs, over his stomach, between his cheeks. The warmth soothes, the pressure steady and sure.
Adam doesn’t rush. He takes his time, moving slow, watching Noah’s face as he works. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and pulls Noah into his arms, wrapping him up, pulling the blanket over them both.
For a while, neither of them speak. Noah’s body is loose, pliant, melted against him. Adam strokes slow circles into his back, just feeling him, just keeping him close. Then Noah exhales, shifting against Adam’s chest, his voice thick with something warm and drowsy.
“Mm. You’re kind of nice, huh?”
Adam huffs a small laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of his head.
“Only sometimes.”
