Hot Wheels

Fresh from the shower, Ethan-Michael Ayers stands at the door, towel barely clinging to his hips as he scribbles his signature for the package. The fabric betrays him then—slips free in a whisper of steam and surprise—baring his stiff cock, rigid and eager, pulsing with unspent heat. Jeremy Penn, the bike messenger with a body honed sharp as a blade, eyes the reveal without flinching. 'Don't sweat it,' he says, voice low and steady. 'Everything happens for a reason.' Ethan-Michael bends to snatch the fallen towel, but Jeremy's smile pulls him back up, close. Gentle fingers tangle in damp hair, guiding that open mouth toward Jeremy's own swollen prick, thick and throbbing under the tight uniform. Lips part. Tongues tease. What starts as a hungry suck blooms into a blaze—bodies grinding, thrusting deep, until Jeremy delivers his own urgent load, a special kind of package sealed in sweat and release.