"Hello, I saw you at the restaurant... how are you doing... it's been a long time."
Those words popped up on your screen the day after spotting him across the crowded diner. Heart slammed hard, old scars itching. You swiped delete, chat vanishing like smoke. But next morning, ping again from the same ghost.
"Hi, are you there? Is this not your number?"
Panic surged hot, fingers trembling. Delete. Again. Block stared back, tempting, but something glued you still... a hex? Brain fog? Or that twisted pull, was it Stockholm syndrome? Whatever it was, it chained you. Peace screamed for the block, but your thumb froze.
"What timeline am I in? Get me out of here," you muttered, twisting in sheets, bed a tangle of frustration.
Knock soft at the door. Daniel... the good one, your cousin, steady rock in the storm. "Come in," you called, voice muffled.
He eased it open, careful not to bump the side table stacked with half-read books and empty mugs. Gym gear hugged him tight... black shorts clinging to thick thighs like second skin, tank top stretched over pecs that flexed with each breath, abs rippling faint under fabric. And that bulge... outlined bold, heavy promise straining the seam. Sweat already gleamed on his collarbone, fresh from a quick warm-up maybe.
"What are you wearing?" you laughed, sitting up, eyes wide at the sight. Ridiculous hot, but still... overkill for a casual day.
"Gym wear," he grinned, hands on hips, striking a pose like some runway fool, chest puffed, bulge shifting with the stance.
"No, I mean... what's with the get-up?" Chuckles bubbled out, easing the knot you had in your gut.
"Well, it's gym clothes. You don't like it?" Tone dipped low, fake-innocent, those eyes pleading playful, begging for mercy.
You weren't buying it anyway. If he stepped out like that, half the street would stare... that cluttered mess in his crotch on full display.
"If anyone's wearing that, it should be me. Looks feminine," you teased, poking the bear, knowing straight guys hated the jab... ego bruise waiting.
"Nothing wrong with looking feminine in my books." Chest out prouder, smile steady,he didn't flinch, he meant it.
Mouth dropped, you were shocked. First time you'd heard that... real life. Your whole life, men preached macho bullshit, superiority all around. Daniel from back then? Your ex? He'd scoff at anything soft.
"I am a man, not a woman," he'd snap over drinks, shoving back a Sprite like poison.
But this Daniel... your cousin now, family close as blood... he flipped the script. Breath of fresh air, clean and sharp. Contrast to that asshole ex, rotting in your rearview. You loved it. You loved him.
"But throw shorts over that if you insist on wearing it out. Don't say I didn't warn you, boo." You flopped back, face smooshed in pillow, humming loud to shake the buzz.
Strong hand grabbed your hip, hoisting easy, flipping you to sit. Heat from his palm seeped through thin sleep shorts.
"Well, if you don't want me in it... I could just take it off."
But Before you could protest it was Too late. Shorts pooled down to the ankles, kicked aside. Tank whipped over his head, landing soft on the rug. Stark naked. Breath caught hard.
What a view. Skin golden from summer runs, abs glistening faint sweat, each ridge carved deep, begging tongue traces. Biceps bunched as he stretched arms back, casual flex showing veins thick and blue. Thighs solid, tree-trunk strong. Height loomed... six-two easy, towering your five-six frame. And lower... that dick. Nine inches soft, heavy poll curving lazy against thigh, thick as wrist, foreskin smooth, head peeking pink. Balls hung full, low and heavy, swaying gentle with his breath.
Mind reeled. Soft like this? If it ever took to Waking up... fuck, it'd wreck you.
"You like what you see?" Smirk crooked, eyes dark, knowing.
Gasp slipped, lip caught between teeth. Stood quick, brushed past... close enough to feel his heat, cock brushing arm accidental... twitch against your skin. To the door. "Clink." Locks turned sharp, double bolt. Sealed in. Safe. Freaky time.
10:00 AM. Hell of a wake-up call.