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The rain had been pouring over Munich since early evening, slamming against the tall living room windows of Jamal’s apartment. Inside, the lights downstairs were low, and the house was warm and quiet.
Michael was lying sideways across the big sofa in the lower living room. He was wearing just a pair of dark boxer briefs and a large, baggy t-shirt that hung loosely over his body, almost covering his thighs. He was exhausted after two heavy training sessions that day, his long legs stretched out lazily as he scrolled through his phone.
Jamal walked into the room from the hallway, wearing dark sweatpants and no shirt. He stopped at the edge of the sofa, looking down at Michael.
"The set-up is upstairs. Come on, best of five," Jamal said, his voice calm and firm. "The controllers are already connected."
Michael didn't even look up from his phone screen. He just let out a long groan. "No. I’m not coming upstairs, man. I’m tired."
"Come on, you’ve been on your phone for an hour. Get up," Jamal insisted.
"I said no, Jamal," Michael grumbled, turning his back to him and pulling his shirt down a bit over his legs, burying his face into the sofa cushions. "Go play online. Leave me alone."
Jamal didn't argue. He didn't ask a second time. Instead, he stepped right up to the edge of the couch, bent down, and reached for Michael.
Before Michael could react, Jamal shoved both of his broad arms straight under Michael’s armpits and thighs. In one fast, strong motion, Jamal lifted Michael completely off the sofa.
"Whoa—what the fuck! Put me down!" Michael yelled, his feet leaving the cushions completely.
Because he was wearing only boxers and a loose shirt, the cool air hit his bare skin right away. As Jamal lifted him up against his broad chest, Michael's shirt pulled up, leaving his sleek, bare legs totally exposed and even his ass cheeks peeking out.
Michael panicked, trying to do two things at once: fight back against Jamal's tight grip, and desperately cover himself up. He brought one hand down fast, trying to pull his loose shirt lower over his boxers, while using his other fist to hit Jamal’s shoulder.
"Jamal! Put me down, you idiot!" Michael whined loudly, kicking his legs back and forth as Jamal carried him straight out of the living room and toward the stairs. "Stop! Put me down! Let me go!"
Jamal didn't even care about Michael's weak hits. He started going up the stairs, taking two solid steps at a time, holding Michael locked against his chest like he weighed nothing. He looked down at Michael desperately pulling at his shirt while trying to kick his legs free.
Jamal let out a loud laugh. "Bro, just stop."
"I'm barely wearing anything, put me down!" Michael whined, kicking his long legs, his face red as he held onto his shirt hem.
"What is there to cover?" Jamal laughed, completely unbothered as he reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the game room. "Like, bro, I've seen it all before. Stop acting weird."
Michael stared at him in disbelief. Realizing how silly he looked trying to cover himself while being carried around like a bag, Michael dropped his hand from his shirt and went back to fighting. He used both hands to push against Jamal’s chest, kicking his feet back hard to try and slip out of Jamal's arms.
"You're an idiot, man! Let me down!" Michael grumbled, fighting with all his strength.
Jamal just laughed, ignoring Michael’s struggle until they reached the upstairs room. He walked right over to the big beanbag chairs in front of the TV and dropped Michael straight down onto the soft cushions.
Michael landed with a soft bounce, his long bare legs sprawling out over the fabric. He sat up fast, glaring at Jamal with his dreadlocks messy around his face.
Jamal tossed a wireless controller straight into Michael's lap and sat down on the floor beside him, leaning his shoulder right against Michael's knee. "Pick your character."
Michael stared at the controller, letting out a defeated sigh as he finally gave up. "You're so annoying, you know that ?" he muttered, picking up the controller anyway.
In a completely different context, on an early morning before an away match, the long, quiet hallway outside the dressing rooms was cold.
Michael was standing in front of a wide mirror near the exit doors, checking his tracksuit. He was fixing the zipper on his navy jacket, making sure his collar looked right, his long fingers working at the metal clip.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him on the floor.
Jamal walked up from behind. He didn't stop a foot away—he walked straight into Michael’s space until his broad chest pressed right into Michael’s back. Without saying a word, Jamal reached around Michael’s waist, wrapping both of his heavy arms around Michael’s middle in a tight hug, resting his head right on Michael’s shoulder.
"Bus leaves in five minutes," Jamal muttered softly into his neck, his warm breath hitting Michael’s skin.
Michael didn't pull away or try to step out of the grip. He was so used to Jamal grabbing him like this that he didn't even pause his hands on his collar. "I know. I'm ready."
Michael lifted his eyes to the big mirror right in front of them.
Standing there under the bright lights, the reflection was obvious. Jamal’s shoulders were so wide and his frame was so thick that in the mirror, Jamal completely blocked Michael out from behind. Michael’s narrow waist and smaller upper body were completely hidden by Jamal’s broad outline. Jamal’s big hands were locked over Michael’s stomach, his palms easily covering Michael’s middle.
Michael stared at the glass for a quick second. He saw how completely hidden he looked—how easily Jamal’s body covered him up from behind.
It was just something he noticed. Michael didn't think twice about it. To him, it was just Jamal being Jamal—big, strong,annoying and always leaning his heavy weight on him.
"Move, you're heavy," Michael muttered casually, tapping Jamal’s forearm.
Jamal gave Michael’s waist one more firm squeeze before letting go, turning toward the bus doors. Michael adjusted his collar one last time, picked up his bag, and followed him out.
Separately, on a freezing, rainy winter evening at the training facility after a late session, most of the team had already driven home, leaving the indoor lounge quiet and dark.
Michael was sitting on a bench near the lockers, shivering. He had just come out of the showers and was sitting there wearing nothing but a pair of training shorts and a thin, short-sleeved t-shirt, having completely forgotten to pack his heavy winter jacket in his bag. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, his long legs pulled in close to keep warm while he waited for his ride.
Jamal walked out of the physio room wearing his oversized, winter hoodie built for his broad shoulders. He took one look at Michael shivering on the bench and stopped.
A small smirk spread across Jamal's face.
"Why are you sitting here like it's summer?" Jamal asked, shaking his head as he walked over. "Bro, it’s two degrees outside."
Michael glared up at him through his dark dreadlocks, his shoulders pulled up high against the cold. "Shut up, Jamal."
"Seriously, man," Jamal teased, standing over him with his hands in his pockets. "Did you forget your clothes or do you just like freezing in your shorts?"
"I forgot my jacket, alright? Fuck off," Michael grumbled under his breath, drawing his long legs in even tighter. "Go home if you're done talking."
Jamal laughed softly, shaking his head. "Okay, okay, calm down sensitive."
Jamal reached down, grabbed the bottom of his big black hoodie, and pulled it right off over his head, leaving himself in just a tight compression shirt. He unzipped the heavy hoodie and stepped closer.
"Here," Jamal said, holding it out.
Michael looked at it and turned his head away. "No. Keep your jacket. I don't want it."
"Mike, take the hoodie," Jamal said, his voice calm and stubborn.
"I said no, man," Michael snapped back, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. "I'm fine. Stop it."
Jamal let out a short sigh, completely ignoring Michael’s attitude. He didn't just hand it to him. He stepped right into Michael's space, standing directly between Michael’s knees. Before Michael could slide away, Jamal grabbed the heavy hoodie, leaned down, and forced it straight over Michael's head and shoulders himself.
"Hey—stop, what are you doing—" Michael complained, his voice muffled for a second under the heavy fabric as he tried to push Jamal's hands away.
"Put your arm in,baby," Jamal ordered softly, overriding Michael's weak resistance. Jamal reached over, grabbed Michael's wrist, and pushed Michael's arm straight through the thick sleeve. Then he grabbed the other arm and did the exact same thing.
Because the hoodie was built for Jamal’s broad frame, it completely swallowed Michael. The thick bottom reached all the way past his thighs, almost covering his shorts completely, and the long sleeves flopped past his wrists, hiding his hands inside the soft fabric.
Jamal grabbed the front zipper and pulled it all the way up to Michael's chin, locking him inside the huge jacket.
Once Michael was completely bundled up, Jamal stepped back a little, looking down at him with an amused smile.
"You look like a little kid wearing his dad's coat," Jamal laughed softly, shaking his head. "You're totally lost in there, man."
"Fuck you, Jamal," Michael cursed, though his voice had no real anger left now that the thick, warm jacket was keeping him warm. He tried to shake his arms, the extra fabric flapping over his fingers. "It's just too big."
"It fits fine," Jamal teased with a warm grin, stepping back in and dropping his heavy body right onto the narrow bench beside him, crowding Michael against the wall.
Jamal reached over, wrapping one broad, heavy arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him right into his side to share the warmth. "At least you're not freezing anymore."
Michael grumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes, but he didn't pull away. He hid his hands deep inside the oversized sleeves, let his head drop onto Jamal’s broad shoulder, and let out a long, warm sigh, completely comfortable wrapped up in Jamal's big clothes and heavy weight.
Quite apart from any of those days,a late one night at Michael’s place was different.
The room was pitch black except for the bright blue light of Michael’s phone. It was two in the morning, and his apartment was dead silent. Michael was lying on his back in a big grey t-shirt and boxers, scrolling through TikTok because he couldn't sleep.
Then a video came up on his FYP.
It was a slow-motion edit with a catchy beat playing in the background. Big white text flashed across the middle of the screen:
“Look at the size difference between them…omgg they’re made for each other ”
Michael’s thumb stopped. He wasn't curious—he was instantly annoyed.
"What the fuck is this?" he muttered into the dark room, frowning.
He tapped straight into the comments, his jaw tightening. He was a professional athlete. He played top-level football in front of seventy thousand people every weekend. He was a grown man, an adult, and a hard worker. Seeing people talk about him online like he was some delicate little guy made a hot wave of annoyance hit the back of his neck.
He scrolled through the top comments:
“nah why mike got legs like an anime girl tho😭” “jamal’s hand literally covers his whole thigh im cryinggg” “he looks so tiny” “look at his dainty knees next to jamal’s huge thighs fr” “the size difference is buzzy ngl”
"Anime girl legs?" Michael scoffed out loud, shaking his head. "Are these people for real right now?"
He stared at his phone, annoyed and completely confused. He didn't get why people were making such a huge deal out of this. He was long and fast; Jamal was big and strong. That’s just how their bodies were built for football. Why were thousands of people in the comments talking about how they stood next to each other? Why were they zooming in on their legs like it meant something?
Frustrated and ready to scroll away, he rewatched the edit to see what clip they even used.
The video zoomed in close on a match from a few weeks ago. Michael had scored a goal, and Jamal had run up from behind and jumped on his back to celebrate. The creator had slowed the video down, cutting off their faces to focus only on their legs and bodies.
Michael kept staring at the screen, trying to understand what everyone was seeing. But as the clip played again, his anger slowly faded into a quiet, deep confusion.
Under the bright stadium lights, the camera made his legs stand out. He had never really looked at them like this before—to him, they were just his legs, built for sprinting and scoring top level goals. But right next to Jamal’s muscular body the difference was clear. His legs looked long, sleek, and pretty inside his loose shorts.
Then the clip zoomed in on Jamal’s hands.
Jamal’s big, broad hands reached around from behind, gripping Michael’s upper thighs tightly to hold him up. Jamal’s hands were so big they almost covered the whole width of Michael's sleek leg, his thick fingers digging into Michael's shorts.
Michael brought the phone closer to his face. He dragged the video bar back, playing those three seconds over and over.
He blinked, his brain struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. He wasn't angry anymore. He was just deeply, intensely confused by a strange, sudden feeling in his chest.
Slowly, his mind started bringing up quick memories from the past few months.
He thought about all those small, everyday moments he had never cared about before—times he had thrown a bare leg over Jamal’s lap while sitting on the bench, or how Jamal would casually wrap a heavy arm around his waist to pull him back against his chest. He thought of all the times Jamal would lean his full weight on him, or grab his knee, or crowd him against a wall without thinking twice.
To Michael, those were just normal things between close friends. But looking at the screen now, seeing what the fans saw, those memories suddenly felt totally different. He had been completely blind to it. Jamal was big, thick, and heavy. And next to him, Michael looked sleek, slender, and small.
Michael lay in the dark, rewatching the video as his thoughts spun out of control. He tried to lock his phone and go to sleep, but he couldn't tear his eyes away—specifically from the sight of Jamal's big hand completely swallowing his thigh.
Then, a sudden rush of heat hit low in his stomach, shooting straight down his spine and making his toes curl into the sheets. His breath caught as his body reacted before he could stop it.
Down inside his boxers, his dick gave a hard, sudden twitch.
Michael’s breath came out raspy in the quiet room. He stared at the screen, watching Jamal’s massive hand grip his leg on loop, his heart hammering against his ribs. It was a dark, realization of a brand new kink—one he couldn't deny now that his body was craving it.
He let the phone rest on his chest and slid his own fingers down to his bare thigh, tracing the smooth skin of his leg. But his own touch felt weak. It did nothing for him.
Closing his eyes, he pictured Jamal’s hands instead—imagining that heavy, warm palm resting flat on his skin, caressing him with possessive strength. He could almost feel Jamal’s thick fingers wrapping easily around his joint, pinning him down and holding him completely helpless.
Thinking about Jamal’s massive hands taking control of his body was what finally broke him.
Michael dropped his head back onto his pillow, staring up into the dark ceiling as a low, shaky moan escaped his lips. Down inside his boxers, his dick was throbbing, rock-hard and leaking, his entire body on fire.
He was stunned by how violently turned on he was, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of Jamal's massive frame manhandling him completely took over his mind. Then the truth hit him—he didn't just notice how much bigger Jamal was anymore. He craved it. He wanted to feel that dominant size crushing down on him, taking whatever he wanted ,consuming him.
Michael lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was pounding against his ribs,he took a slow breath in the pitch black. He tried to tell himself to stop, to just roll over and go to sleep, but the feeling was way too strong to ignore.
Slowly, Michael slid his hand down his stomach, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.
When his hand closed around his cock, he let out a low, shaky gasp. He was completely hard, throbbing and hot against his palm. He started stroking himself slowly, his hips twitching off the bed as the first wave of pleasure hit him.
He closed his eyes, but his own hand just didn't feel like enough. It felt too small, too light.
His mind instantly replaced his own hand with Jamal's. He pictured Jamal standing over him in the quiet room. He imagined Jamal’s big, heavy palm reaching down, wrapping around him, holding him down by the waist with an effortless strength like he did always. He pictured Jamal’s thick fingers digging into his bare thighs, pinning his long legs against the bed.
"Fuck..." Michael whispered into the dark, his voice raspy.
He started moving his hand faster, his fingers sliding over his warm skin. Every time he stroked himself, he pictured his thin legs wrapped around Jamal’s huge body. He imagined how small he would feel under his heavy weight, completely held down by how big Jamal was.
That thought sent a hot wave straight down his spine.
Michael threw his head back onto the pillow, his dreadlocks messily spread out over the sheets. His back arched off the bed, his free hand pulling tightly on the bedsheets as his hips pushed up into his hand. His strokes got faster, messier, his breath coming in short, needy moans.
"Jamal... Jamahh" the name slipped out of his throat before he could stop it, a soft, helpless sound in the quiet apartment.
That was the breaking point. Picturing Jamal’s huge hands stroking him roughly and holding him down while hearing himself say Jamal’s name pushed him right over the edge.
Michael stroked hard three more times, his long legs shaking violently against the mattress as a powerful orgasm hit his whole body. He let out a low groan, his hips twitching as he came messily into his hand and across his stomach, his body going totally limp against the bed.
He lay there in the dark, chest heaving, his fingers sticky and warm as he slowly came down from the high. His heart was still racing fast, his skin warm and sensitive.
Michael let out a long, tired sigh into the quiet room. He sat up slowly on the edge of the bed, feeling dirty and sticky. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his hand and stomach, then stood up, pulled off his messy boxers, and tossed them into the laundry hamper in the bathroom.
He pulled a fresh, clean pair of boxers out of his drawer, stepped into them, and climbed back under the heavy covers.
He pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes, but a sudden wave of thoughts hit him. Tomorrow morning was training. He was going to see Jamal in just a few hours. Jamal was going to walk up to him, wrap a heavy arm around his shoulders, grab his leg, or lean all over him just like he always did.
Michael swallowed hard, his heart doing a nervous little flip in his chest.
"Nope. Not thinking about it, just act normal like usual ok easy" Michael whispered to himself in the dark.
He decided to force it out of his mind. He blocked out the thought of tomorrow, turned onto his side, buried his face into the soft pillow, and finally called it a night.
The days following that late night scroll on his phone were an absolute torture of Michael’s own making.
He couldn't get the image out of his head—that TikTok edit, the comments about his anime girl legs, and the feeling of his own hand on his skin jerking off while picturing Jamal holding him down. Every time he looked at Jamal now, his heart did a fast, nervous flip. Yesterday, Jamal was just his best friend. Now, seeing his broad shoulders and heavy frame made Michael’s stomach twist with a deep, persistent ache. He craved that touch again, and he knew exactly how to push Jamal’s buttons to get it.
It started late that afternoon at the facility. Practice had just wrapped up, and Michael sat on a blue mat in the gym, stretching his legs. When he saw Jamal walking over wiping sweat off his neck, Michael intentionally sat sideways, stretching his long, bare legs straight out across the narrow walkway to the water cooler.
"Mike, you're blocking the whole way," Jamal said, stopping right in front of him.
Michael didn't move an inch, reaching for his toes. "Go around then."
"There is no room, move your legs," Jamal insisted.
"I'm stretching, man. Wait a minute," Michael grumbled back, hiding a small smirk.
Jamal didn't bother waiting. He stepped up, bent down, and grabbed Michael’s ankles in his big, heavy hands. In one effortless pull, Jamal lifted Michael’s legs off the mat and dragged his lower body completely out of the way across the floor. A sharp wave of heat shot straight down Michael’s spine the second those large, warm palms clamped around his ankles. Michael pretended to be mad, shouting, "Hey! Watch it!" but he let his body go completely limp, loving the raw force of Jamal moving him around. Jamal dropped his feet and walked past, leaving Michael lying flat on the mat with his arm over his face, hiding a satisfied grin as his skin tingled where Jamal had gripped him.
Two days later, Michael pushed it even further during a friendly match. He deliberately played around on the ball near the sideline, losing possession and letting the other team score. Jamal, who took training deadly seriously, lost his temper instantly.
As the whistle blew for a water break, Jamal stormed up to him. Michael didn't back down—he looked right at him with a cocky smirk. "It's just a drill, chill out," Michael scoffed.
That pushed Jamal over the edge. Jamal grabbed Michael by the front of his shirt, shoved him backward, and slammed him hard against the brick wall of the dugout. Jamal stepped right into his space, pressing his broad forearm firmly against Michael’s chest, pinning him so he couldn't move while his other hand gripped Michael's shoulder hard. Jamal’s eyes flashed with real anger, his face inches away, his breathing heavy against Michael's cheek. "Stop acting like an idiot on the pitch, Mike! I'm serious!"
Michael’s breath hitched. He should have been annoyed, but a wave of pure heat flooded straight down to his stomach. Seeing Jamal furious, looking down at him while physically trapping him against the wall, was the hottest thing he had ever felt. He loved feeling completely helpless against Jamal’s heavy frame. "Alright, my bad," Michael muttered softly, letting his shoulders drop. Jamal glared for a second longer before letting go, leaving Michael leaning against the wall, taking a slow breath as his whole body hummed from the rush.
By Friday, after a grueling ninety-minute match, the physio ordered everyone into the cold tubs. Michael stood at the edge in his black compression shorts, staring at the floating ice with total disgust, fully aware that Jamal was right behind him drying off with a towel.
Instead of getting in, Michael stood dead still, crossing his long arms and stepping backward right into Jamal's path. "I'm not getting in today. My legs are fine," Michael announced.
"Trainer said ten minutes, Mike. Get in," Jamal said from behind.
"No, it's too cold," Michael insisted, taking another step back until he was practically touching Jamal's toes, making a slow move to walk past him.
Jamal stepped into his space, reached out with one hand, and grabbed Michael firmly by the side of his waist. Michael instantly squirmed, kicking his long legs and thrashing his shoulders, pretending to fight back. Jamal just laughed, wrapped his other broad arm straight around Michael's chest, and lifted him completely off his feet from behind. Jamal’s chest pressed tight against Michael’s back, his massive body locking Michael's wriggling frame in place. Being physically lifted and manhandled sent a heavy pulse straight to Michael’s stomach. He hit his hands weakly against Jamal’s arm as Jamal carried him effortlessly over to the tank and dropped him straight into the icy water. Michael gasped as the freeze hit, but as Jamal kept his heavy hands on Michael’s shoulders to keep him from jumping out, Michael looked up through his wet hair, completely satisfied with how easily he had tricked Jamal into grabbing him again but still putting on a show of restisting.
Later that night, they were back at Jamal's apartment in the upstairs game room. Jamal was sitting in the middle of the room in a single, large leather gaming chair, totally locked into an intense online match, leaving the giant, soft couch two feet away completely empty.
Michael walked in wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts. He walked straight past the empty sofa and stood right beside Jamal's knee. "Move over."
Jamal didn't look away from the TV. "Sit on the couch, Mike. I'm in an important match."
"No. The couch is too far. Move over," Michael insisted, poking his foot against Jamal’s thick thigh.
"I'm not moving, man. Just go sit on the couch," Jamal muttered, tapping his controller buttons fast.
Without another word, Michael squeezed himself straight down into the chair, pushing his body into the tiny gap between Jamal’s broad hip and the armrest, pressing their legs together. Jamal let out an annoyed huff, but instead of pushing him off, Jamal reached out with his left arm, wrapped his heavy, broad arm completely around Michael’s waist, and pulled Michael straight onto his lap to make room for his hands.
Michael’s breath caught in his throat. Jamal’s arm was like an iron bar locked around his waist, holding Michael’s long back tight against his chest while his thick thighs supported Michael’s weight underneath. Jamal just kept playing his game like it was nothing, resting his chin right near Michael’s neck. Michael sat there in Jamal’s lap, totally surrounded by Jamal’s warmth and massive build, feeling Jamal's chest rub against his back with every movement. Michael closed his eyes for a second, letting out a quiet breath and hiding his face near Jamal’s shoulder, completely lost in the feeling of being held so easily by the exact hands he couldn't stop craving.
It had been weeks of setting subtle traps, picking petty fights at training, and finding every possible excuse just to get brushed against, dragged across a mat, or picked up. Michael was completely exhausted from playing games. He couldn't keep dropping hints or hoping Jamal would magically figure it out. He had to do something and today was it, the day he reached his breaking point and decided to finally make a move.
The late-night air inside the Munich apartment was quiet and warm, except for the soft sound of rain tapping against the big balcony windows. Outside, the city was dead silent and the only light came from the small yellow lamp in the corner and the glow of the TV screen.
Michael was lying sideways on the big sofa, resting his head on the armrest. He was wearing a baggy white t-shirt and a pair of dark grey silk shorts—the kind that cut really high up his legs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination , bare thighs completely exposed. His long, thin legs hung off the edge of the cushions, and his blonde locs were a total mess around his face but he managed to put them in a bun.
They were supposed to be watching game clips from their last match. But Michael hadn't paid attention to a single play for the last forty minutes. His mind was totally frozen, locked onto the guy sitting right next to him.
Jamal was sitting on the edge of the couch with no shirt on, his huge shoulders completely filling out the space. He just wore grey sweatpants, his chest rising and falling with slow, quiet breaths as he relaxed.
Sitting there with his legs pressed together, Jamal’s lower body looked sexy and unreal. His two thighs pressed together looked like a massive wall of solid muscle. They were so thick and broad that both of his legs combined looked almost like a bench. Michael stared at them from the side, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. Ever since he saw those TikTok edits highlighting their size difference, Michael had been losing his mind.
Tonight, Jamal was in a really affectionate mood, totally clueless about what was going through Michael's head and making even harder for him .
Without taking his eyes off the TV, Jamal reached out with one big arm and pulled Michael a little closer into his side. He leaned his heavy shoulder against Michael's, his big hand dropping down to rest flat on Michael’s bare upper thigh. His thick fingers spread wide over the smooth skin just below his short shorts, stroking his thumb back and forth in a lazy, normal way. To Jamal, it was just second nature—just resting his hand on his friend's leg while watching the game.
"You're real quiet tonight, Mike," Jamal said softly, his deep voice rumbling right next to Michael’s ear as his thumb rubbed a soft circle on Michael's skin. "Usually you’re talking shit by now"
"I'm watching the clips, man," Michael lied, his voice sounding dry and rough.
"You're not watching anything , bro," Jamal joked gently, giving Michael's bare thigh a firm, casual squeeze before just leaving his warm, heavy hand resting there. "What, you tired?"
Michael swallowed hard, his throat totally dry. The casual way Jamal was touching him was driving him crazy. He couldn't take the soft, friendly affection anymore.
Without thinking, Michael pushed himself up off the couch, slipping away from Jamal's arm. He didn't say anything. He shifted his long, bare legs, moving right into Jamal's space.
He looked down at Jamal’s legs. Sitting together, both of Jamal’s thighs were way too wide to sit across. But Jamal’s single right thigh on its own was massive and thick. Michael realized right then that he didn't even need both. One of Jamal's thighs was plenty enough for him.
Without warning or stepping back , Michael lifted his hips, spread his long, bare legs wide over Jamal’s right leg, and settled it. He dropped his weight straight down, straddling Jamal’s single thigh like a saddle, sitting right on the thick quad. His shorts pulled up even higher, showing all of his long legs against Jamal's sweatpants.
Jamal froze completely. The hand that had been touching Michael's leg dropped down to his hip. His jaw dropped, his dark eyes wide with complete shock as he looked up at Michael sitting fully on his right leg.
"Mike..." Jamal whispered, his voice sounding totally stunned. "What... what are you doing?"
Michael’s body went completely weak. Totally defeated and shaking from head to toe, he slumped forward and laid his head heavily right onto Jamal’s broad, bare shoulder, his locs falling over Jamal's chest.
He bit down hard on his bottom lip, digging his teeth in so he wouldn't make a desperate sound out loud.
"Jamal... I-I can't do this pretending shit anymore," Michael whispered against Jamal's neck, his voice shaking. He bit his lip harder, talking through his teeth. "I need you... fuck, I need you so bad..."
Jamal sat completely still, his brain short-circuiting. He was still totally confused and missing the point. Hearing his best friend sound so desperate and broken, Jamal instantly thought something was seriously wrong—like Michael was having a huge crisis or needed help with something bad.
"Mike? Hey, what's wrong?" Jamal asked, his voice instantly full of real worry.
Jamal reached out with both big hands, wrapping them tight around Michael’s thin waist and pulling him close, shoving Michael flush against his bare chest. He held him tight to comfort him, his big fingers digging into Michael's sides to hold his weight.
"What happened, bro? Look at me," Jamal insisted, his voice low and protective as he held Michael tight. "Talk to me. What do you need? I got you, man, just tell me what's wrong."
Michael let out a shaky, desperate breath against Jamal's skin. Jamal was holding him tight against his chest, trying to be a supportive friend, completely unaware that his huge thigh that was right between Michael's bare legs was giving the smaller a hard time and making him hard.
Michael couldn't explain it with words. So he let his body do it.
Still biting down hard on his bottom lip, Michael tilted his hips forward. He pressed the hard shape of his erection through his shorts straight into the thick curve of Jamal’s thigh, and deliberately ground his hips downward in a slow, heavy motion.
The second Michael ground into his leg, Jamal’s words cut off mid-sentence.
Jamal’s whole body went completely stiff. His eyes went wide as the hard pressure grinding into his tigh finally registered in his brain. The confusion vanished instantly. The worried-friend act melted away in a split second.
"Mike..." Jamal rasped, his voice dropping way down, the worried tone completely gone. "Are you... are you grinding on my leg?"
Michael didn't stop. He bit his bottom lip so hard it almost bled, letting out a rough, muffled breath through his nose as he ground his hips into Jamal’s thigh again, sliding his smooth skin against Jamal's sweatpants.
"I told you..." Michael muttered, his voice tight as he bit his lip, his forehead resting heavy against Jamal's neck. "I told you I need you..."
Jamal let out a low, rough growl from the back of his throat. The realization hit him like a truck,he finally understood what all the little tricks at training were about. He realized why Michael was sitting on his thigh, why his bare legs were wrapped around his quad, why he was shaking against his chest.
"Fuck..." Jamal rumbled, his deep voice turning thick and heavy right against Michael's ear.
Jamal didn't pull away. The clueless friend was completely gone. He tightened his grip on Michael’s snatched waist, his big hands digging into his skin, and brought his other palm down hard onto the back of Michael’s bare thigh. His thick fingers clamped around Michael's leg, locking him onto his quad.
"So this is what you meant?" Jamal asked, his voice low and full of dark authority as he took total control. "You don't need help. You just wanted to ride my leg?"
Michael bit his lip tight, his eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head slightly against Jamal's shoulder as a breath hitched in his throat.
"Answer me, Mike," Jamal ordered low, his broad hand pulling Michael's hips down harder against his muscle, forcing a rough heavy friction straight into Michael's clothed cock. "Is this what you've been losing your mind over?"
Michael finally let go of his lip, a sharp moan escaping his mouth. "Y-yes... fuck, Jamal, yes..."
Jamal let out a smirk, his chest expanding as he used his raw strength to guide Michael completely. He lifted Michael’s light body slightly off his tigh and pushed him back down against the thick muscle, dragging Michael's body back and forth over his single thigh in a heavy, steady rhythm he picked.
"Look at me," Jamal commanded softly, his deep voice vibrating against Michael's skin.
Michael forced his heavy eyes open, lifting his head off Jamal's shoulder just enough to look down.
Trapped on top of Jamal's huge frame, with Jamal’s big hand clamping his bare thigh and Jamal’s heavy chest pressing against him, the visual was totally overwhelming.
"You're... you're so fucking big..." Michael sobbed out softly, his voice totally breaking. "Your thighnggh... it's literally... I can literally ride just one of your legs..."
Jamal rumbled, his grip tightening until Michael couldn't move on his own, his thigh driving up into Michael's sweet spot with real power. "Yeah?you like how big I am for you, Mike?"
"I love it... fuck, Jamal, I'm gonna—!" Michael screamed softly into the quiet room.
A heavy orgasm hit Michael all at once. His back arched off Jamal's chest, his sleek legs shaking out of control against Jamal’s frame as he came messily inside his shorts. He let out a muffled groan against his own lip, his hips twitching as he spent himself completely against Jamal's sweatpants.
Jamal didn't let go for a second. He kept his big arms wrapped tight around Michael's waist, holding his limp, shaking body flush against his chest while Michael came down from the high.
Michael dropped his head back onto Jamal’s bare shoulder, breathing fast and loud, completely exhausted and soft.
Jamal rested his chin on top of Michael’s hair, his big hand casually stroking the bare, warm skin of Michael’s thigh, totally enjoying the edible sounds Michael was making while lying completely conquered on his lap.
Seeing how flushed and completely spent Michael was, Jamal brushed a damp strand of hair from Michael's forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle. "We can stop here, man," Jamal murmured softly, though his own voice was thick and raspy. "You're exhausted. You don't have to force it."
Michael shifted on his lap, feeling the rock-hard, burning length of Jamal’s cock still pinned beneath him, throbbing with unfulfilled need. He looked up at Jamal, his dark eyes flashing with sudden, fierce protest.
"Fuck that," Michael growled, his voice low and stubborn as a wave of heat coursed through them both. "No way. I'm not leaving you hanging and hard like this—you need to come too. I can't be the only one who gets to come."
Before Jamal could argue Michael slid his hand straight up to the nape of Jamal’s neck, pulling him down into a rough, desperate kiss that cut off any further protest and left Jamal gasping. Their tongues tangled hungrily, deep and possessive. Realizing Michael wasn't taking no for an answer, Jamal’s heavy hands roamed down to cup Michael’s ass, gripping the firm muscle as he lifted him with effortless strength, pulling Michael higher until he was fully straddling both of his thighs now.
Their cocks aligned perfectly, grinding against each other with every desperate thrust. Michael’s hands slipped straight under Jamal's top, feeling the burning heat of his skin, tweaking his nipples as his hips continued to drive into Jamal’s—setting off raw friction that made Jamal groan deeply into the kiss.
"I can feel how hard you are," Michael whispered, a dark, confident smirk playing on his lips as he pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "I bet if I slipped my hand down your pants right now, you'd be dripping for me."
Already overwhelmed by Michael's insistence and the raw heat between them, Jamal gasped, his eyes glazed over with pure desire. "Do it," he begged, nodding without a second thought. "Fuck, do it."
Jamal’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as Michael’s warm, strong fingers slipped inside his waistband and wrapped tight around his throbbing dick. "Oh, fuck," Jamal groaned right into Michael’s ear, his voice thick with need. Michael's grip tightened, stroking him with an urgent, deliberate rhythm as Jamal’s breath hitched and his whole body arched into the touch.
"Look at you," Michael purred, his hot breath washing over Jamal’s neck, "so desperate for me." His thumb circled Jamal's swollen head, slicking it with the precum leaking from the tip. "So wet, so eager."
Jamal can't help but whimper as Michael quickens his pace, his hand moving in a firm motion that has Jamal on the edge of the cliff, ready to tumble over. "I bet you're going to cover my face with your come; want me to lick it all up?" Michael asks, looking at him with doe eyes ,his voice a low growl of satisfaction and teasing .
Jamal felts a shiver run down his spine as Michael’s eyes lock onto his, the heat of his gaze burning into him. Michael’s pupils dilate with lust, and he licks his lips, anticipating what's to come. Without a word, he sinks onto his knees on the rug, right between Jamal’s wide, parted legs. his legs spreading apart as he gets into the perfect position to serve Jamal . His hands come up to grip the base of his cock, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement.
"Oh, fuck it’s so big ," Michael murmurs, his voice a low, hungry growl. He opens his mouth wide, taking in the head of Jamal’s cock with a wet, eager suck. Jamal’s moan as Michael’s tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the slit before he takes Jamal’s in deeper, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks.
"That's it," jamal encourages, his hands tangling in Michael’s hair as he guide the rhythm. Michaels takes him down his throat, gagging slightly before swallowing around the thickness. He looks up at Jamal, his eyes watering but filled with a fierce desire to please.
"Fuck, you're so good," Jamal groans, watching his cock disappear and reappear with each bob of Michael’s head. He can feel Michael’s throat muscles working to accommodate his length, and the sensation is unreal. Michael’s pulls back, letting Jamal’s cock slap against his face before diving back in, taking him in to the hilt. His nose presses against Jamal’s pelvis, and Jamal can feel his hot breath against his balls. He tightens his grip on Michael’s hair, pushing him down further, making him take him deeper.
"You love that, don't you?" He say, his voice thick with lust. "You love being my cockslut."
Michael nods, his mouth full of Jamal’s huge cock, and Jamal can feel his muffled moans of agreement vibrating through his shaft. He starts to fuck his mouth, holding his head in place as he thrust in and out. The noises Michael makes are obscene and incredibly arousing, mixing with the sloppy, wet sounds of his eager sucking.
"Look at you," he say, admiring the sight of Michael’s mouth stretched around his dick. "You're such a whore for it."
Michael’s eyes roll back in his head, and he moans, the vibrations sending Jamal over the edge. He feels his orgasm building, his balls tightening, and he knows it's going to be intense. He feels a rush of pleasure as his cock slides into Michael’s wet, pretty mouth. His lips are tight and hungry, stretching around Jamal’s as he takes him in deep, his tongue swirling around the head. Jamal look down to see his cock disappearing down Michael’s throat, only to emerge again, glistening with saliva.
"Mmm, fuckk you're so fucking good at that," he murmur, stroking Michael’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes look up at Jamal , full of lust and submission, and Jamal can't help but smile. Michael sucks harder, bobbing his head faster, and Jamal feel the pressure building in his balls. He grabs fistfuls of Michael’s hair, guiding his movements, setting the rhythm that he knows will make him cum.
"Take it all," he command, his voice gruff with desire.
He can see the way Michael responds to his words, the way his eyes light up, and the way he moans around his cock. His eyes are watering slightly as jamal hit the back of his throat, but he doesn't stop. He loves it, loves being used like this, and the thought of it makes you even harder.
"I'm gonna fill you up," Jamal tells him, his hips starting to buck. "You're going to swallow every last drop."
Michael nods, and Jamal can feel his throat contract around him, urging him closer to the edge. He can't hold back anymore. He let go, his cock pulsing as ropes of cum shoot into Michael’s mouth. He swallows eagerly, his eyes never leaving Jamal’s as he can feel himself empty into him.
"Good boy," he praise, stroking Michael’s hair while he’s catching his breath. "You did such a good job, mikey."
With a final, deep suck, Michael pulls away, leaving a glistening string of saliva and Jamal’s come stretching taut between the other’s cock and his lips. The sight is erotic. He looks up at Jamal , a mix of satisfaction and lust on his face. Without a second thought, Jamal leans down and capture his mouth with his, sharing the taste of his come. The kiss is sloppy and desperate. Michael tongue darts out to taste more of Jamal , to clean every last drop from his lips, and the sensation sends a final, lingering shiver down Jamal’s spine.