Try Me On For Size

In the dim glow of the stockroom, Brendan Falke slips into a tight Jocks t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his lean chest like a second skin. He leans against a shelf of folded jeans, hand drifting down to grip his hardening cock through his pants. Eyes half-closed, he strokes himself slowly, lost in a fantasy of sweat-slicked bodies and urgent whispers. Across the aisle, Jacob Hall mirrors him, pulling on his own shirt, muscles flexing under the stretchy cotton. His breaths come quick as he pumps his fist along his shaft, imagining rough hands pinning him down, a hot mouth claiming every inch. The air thickens with their muffled groans. Then, a rustle—a box shifting. Eyes meet. Shock flickers, then hunger. Brendan steps forward first, yanking Jacob close. They grind together, cocks rubbing fierce and insistent through denim. Hands roam, fingers probing, sliding into the heat of each other's asses amid the scattered inventory—tees tumbling, boxes toppling like forgotten witnesses to their raw, electric need.