Chapter 2

Steam curled around Jamie, the shower’s scalding cascade biting his freckled skin, pipes groaning in the mildew-streaked bathroom. And yet his hands were on fire after what just happened. Gazing down, he studied his small, smooth body—lean and bare of hair, sun-bleached curls plastered down across his eyes and ears. Starting to get long. He could probably us a haircut. His thighs slender yet taut, holding up his 2nd best asset, a perky butt high and round like a ripe peach. The way it bubbled out a stark contrast to his front where his very small peepee hide, a shy whisper. Even when he got aroused it was tiny, barely noticeable. He thought himself boyish, almost delicate, his 5’2” form a fleeting sketch next to Reese’s 6’1” colossus—those slabbed pecs, veined forearms, and skull-tattooed bulk that loomed like a god’s. Jamie’s frame felt insignificant, a sparrow to Reese’s hawk, yet the contrast stoked a molten lust, his smallness craving the weight of Reese’s power. The bathroom’s mildew-streaked tiles and groaning pipes faded, drowned by the haze of want, his body a vessel for devotion in the Westside’s gritty embrace.

His mind drifted to the day’s bustle—Vince’s grin bright at the site as he used Jamie to film more video’s for their social media channel. Mike’s playful noogie after a bringing him a new bottle of water, his laughter warm and friendly. Tony’s clap on Jamie’s shoulder sparking laughs at his TikTok poses. Reese’s comments as they left for the day, “You did a really good today boy. A really good job. What a good boy you were.” His words had burned brightest, a spark that led to the love seat. Those words had echoed in his head as he’d sunk beside Reese, the love seat’s heat pulling him closer. Reese’s musk—labor and primal heat—had drowned the tight quarters, his bulk a magnet.

Reese sprawled beside him, his muscular bulk crowding the love seat, one thick arm slung over the back, brushing Jamie’s shoulder. He’d ditched his cargo pants, lounging in just the tank and shorts, his thick thighs spread wide, heat radiating from his hair skin. His studly scent wrapping Jamie in a warm, heady fog. The TV droned with an action flick, explosions flashing across Reese’s scarred forearms, where a cheap skull tattoo flexed with each shift. Jamie felt the press of Reese’s thigh against his, the warmth of his bulk, closer than the site’s dusty sprawl ever allowed.

When Reese peeled off his soaked tank and handed it to Jamie, the smell of his sweat was so strong he could swear he could taste it. Looking up he saw Reese roll his neck, a low groan escaping as he stretched, puffing his chiseled abs, sweat tracing the lines. Jamie’s eyes flicked to them, then darted away, a wave of heat blooming in his chest. Reese’s body was unreal—broad pecs, thick arms, a physique Jamie’s small, lean frame could never mirror, no matter how toned he got. His little peepee, as small as his wiry body, stayed soft, but the heat spread, a tingling need curling through his limbs, making his skin prickle.