The air in the apartment was thick with anticipation, a secret hanging between roommates Oliver Marks and Johnny Donovan, who had just walked in fresh from the gym. Oliver was sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by a scandalous explosion of lace, mesh, and black vinyl he’d bought for his boyfriend. Just as he held up a pair of impossibly tight, glossy briefs, the door swung open, revealing Johnny—a vision with a sweat-damp shirt clinging to his sculpted chest and that familiar, easy grin. Oliver’s eyes locked on him, and a brilliant, risky idea ignited.
“Hey, Johnny,” Oliver said, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You mind doing me a huge favor?” Johnny dropped his gym bag, all easy-going charm. “Yeah? What’s up?” Oliver’s heart hammered against his ribs as he proposed the idea. “I need a fitting model. Think you can help me out?” He held up the vinyl briefs, and the air in the room instantly crackled, the casual vibe shifting into something charged and electric. You could feel it, a current pulling you into their orbit.
Johnny let out a low, throaty laugh, his eyes darkening as they stayed fixed on the clothing. “You serious? For your man?” He shrugged, a slow, deliberate movement. “Hell, why not?” And just like that, the show began. Johnny peeled off his sweaty shirt, giving you a full, breathtaking view of his toned torso. He worked the tight vinyl briefs up his powerful thighs, the material straining and shining, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Oliver’s breath hitched, and yours did too, watching every flex and shift.
Then it was Oliver’s turn. Johnny selected a sheer black mesh top. “Your turn. Let’s see this one,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate register. Oliver pulled his shirt over his head and slipped on the delicate mesh, his skin visible through every thread. Johnny’s gaze was pure fire, tracing the lines of Oliver’s body with a hunger that stripped away all pretense. This was no longer about a favor. A leather harness came next, Johnny’s fingers brushing against Oliver’s skin as he buckled it, his touch lingering. They were standing so close, breathing the same charged air, the tension a living thing you could almost touch.
Then Johnny’s hand found Oliver’s hip, his other hand cupping his jaw. The world narrowed to that space between them. There were no more words, only the sound of their ragged breaths. When Johnny finally crashed his mouth onto Oliver’s, it wasn’t gentle. It was pure, raw, unleashed need, and you were right there, pulse racing, consumed by the heat they created.
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