Chapter 1: The Leak

Bob adjusted his tool belt and knocked on the door of the small but well-kept home. He had been a plumber for over thirty years, but even after thousands of jobs, he still felt a flicker of satisfaction from solving problems with his hands.

The door swung open, revealing Jon—a bearded man in his early forties, built like a lumberjack but with a warmth in his smile that put Bob at ease immediately. Jon greeted him with the kind of friendliness that came naturally, the kind Bob had always admired in other people but never quite mastered himself.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Jon said, stepping aside to let Bob in. “It’s the pipe under the kitchen sink. I tried tightening it myself, but—well, plumbing isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Bob grunted in acknowledgment, already scanning the space with a practiced eye. “Happens all the time. I’ll take a look.”

Jon lingered for a moment as if he wanted to say more, then shrugged and grabbed his keys. “I’ve got to head to work, but make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, just holler.”

“Will do,” Bob replied.

As soon as the door shut behind Jon, Bob got to work, crouching beneath the sink and inspecting the leak. It was a simple fix, nothing too complicated, but it would take time.

While waiting for the sealant to dry, he stretched his legs and glanced around the kitchen. That’s when he noticed the stack of neatly printed papers sitting on the dining table. He wasn’t usually one to snoop, but something about them caught his eye. The pages weren’t work documents or bills—they looked like stories.

Curiosity got the best of him. Bob wiped his hands on a rag and picked up the top sheet. The title alone made his breath catch in his throat.

It was an erotic story.

About a younger man worshipping an older man.

Bob’s grip on the paper tightened. He skimmed the first few paragraphs, expecting something crude, but what he found instead was ... beautiful. The way the younger man in the story touched, kissed, and adored his partner was written with such care, such reverence. Every word was soaked in longing, in need—not just for sex, but for connection.

Bob swallowed hard, heat creeping up his neck. He had never seen himself in anything like this before, had never let himself entertain the thought of being desired in such a way. But now, standing in a stranger’s kitchen, reading words that made something deep inside him ache, he felt ... exposed.

And aroused.

His thick hands fumbled for his phone before he even realized what he was doing. Without thinking, he snapped a few pictures of the pages and sent them to Mark. His twin was the only person who might understand why this hit him so hard.