"James doesn’t look too happy," said one guy standing in front of his gym locker as he pulled a fresh shirt on.

"Can’t blame him," said the other guy, who had a leg up on the bench as he tied his laces. "He fucked around and found out."

The first guy had the grace to sound mortified. "What the hell, man? You can’t just say that. He’s right there."

The second guy scoffed. "So what?" he said. "Everyone knows you don’t bet against the captain. If he’s gonna be salty about all the money he has to spend tonight, he only has himself to blame."

James bristled at the comment. Who wouldn’t? He whipped the towel off his waist and slammed his locker shut. He turned around and marched toward the bench.

"Oh, shit. You’ve done it now, Jack," said the first guy.

James typically let his size speak for him. He often didn’t need to do more than loom over someone to get them to back off. That didn’t really work on the team, though. The boys needed a more… nuanced touch.

"So." A single syllable yet said so powerfully, James’ voice boomed and reverberated throughout the locker room.

The quiet buzz of conversation died down to a hushed murmur as all eyes turned to James. He planted his legs apart and placed his fists on his hips. He was already a big guy but the pose he’d adopted made him look even bigger.

James puffed out his chest, showing off the thick slabs of meat he called his pecs, and he sucked in his stomach to really bring out his rock-hard abs. The way he was standing also showed off the bulge of his biceps and the girth of his thighs.

Adding to the effect were the stark lights of the locker room. Combined with the faint dampness of his skin from being fresh out of the shower, his muscles glistened in the light.

He looked the striking image of a Greek Adonis with one notable exception: his hefty cock. Even soft, it looked a monster, easily six inches flaccid and fat beyond a doubt. Paired with a pendulous sack and heavy bull balls, there was no denying he was a remarkable specimen of masculinity.

James loomed over the pair that had been talking about him. Both guys looked at his face, then down, then back at his face.

It would have been funny if he weren’t so annoyed. Guys loved to know how they measured up and from the looks on both guys’ faces, James was sure they didn’t measure up to him.

"You old ladies need any help getting dressed?" James growled to a smattering of snickers from all around the locker room. "Or are you content to keep on gossiping about other people’s business?"

"N-no. Sorry, James," said the first guy.

"Oh come on. Stop being such a fucking—" the second guy, Jack, began.

If looks could kill, the second guy would have been cold, dead, and buried by now.

"F-fine. Sorry. Won’t happen again," said Jack, looking away from James and pretending to focus on his shoelaces.

"Good," said James as he marched back to his locker. "It better not!" he called over his shoulder.

He wasn’t really pissed so much as annoyed that he’d have to blow the week’s allowance on a night out with the guys. His family was rich but it wasn’t like they were made out of money.

Sure, he could just ask for an advance on next week’s money to get through the weekend but he’d never hear the end of it. And he’d been looking forward to the release of a new game from one of his favorite developers, too.

Right now, he wasn’t even sure if the guys would leave him enough money to buy food over the weekend.

James pulled on a jockstrap to go under his sweat pants as he thought about how he would manage the evening. He could hope the guys would leave him with enough money to do stuff on the weekend but he had his doubts they’d be so gracious.

Oh, well. Whatever. It wasn’t like a night out and a weekend eating instant ramen was the end of the world. He was just disappointed he’d have to miss out on the launch rewards of the game until Monday.

And, truth be told, it wasn’t like Jack had been wrong. Everyone on the team knew better than to bet against Rob.

It didn’t matter how impossible of a bet it seemed to be. Somehow, the fucker managed to pull it off. Every single time.

James still remembered a particular wager during their freshman year. One of the senior members on the team had bet his starting position on Rob being too dumb to get a B for Integral Calculus.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen the dumb motherfucker study as hard for anything since. But somehow, Rob pulled it off. And he didn’t just get a B, he had to be a fucking show-off and got an A+.

It had been a whole thing. School admin had even gotten involved because the senior team member couldn’t believe Rob was capable of doing such a thing.

James had to admit, even he had been convinced that Rob had cheated, somehow, but the investigation turned up nothing. And the whole time, the bastard had been wearing a smarmy, smug grin, telling James how he’d love to see the look on the senior’s face.

Shaking his head, James finished dressing up. He retrieved his gym bag and made his way out of the locker room. He really should have known better. He’d watched Rob win enough bets over the years.

Oh, well. If he had to spend his money, he would at least enjoy it. He’d make sure to wear his best and not get too hammered.

He was going to get laid one way or another. It’d make the hole he could already feel burning into his wallet less painful.

---

By the time they got to the last bar, James wanted to cry. He’d done his best to choose bars and clubs that were on the more affordable side for their crawl but despite that, he was already a few hundred dollars in the hole.

He supposed the old adage was true. It was easier to be liberal with other people’s money and despite his best hopes to the contrary, the fuckers he called friends were taking full advantage.

Rob, in particular, seemed to have gone mad with power. Not that James was actually pissed or anything but Christ almighty, the guy didn’t need to declare he was buying drinks for the whole bar in the last one they went to.

It wasn’t like James could take it back, either, since Rob had conveniently left out he was using someone else’s money to buy the round for everyone.

The last bar, at least, would hopefully be a good time. It was a new place so there were some really good deals to attract customers, and the fact it was well-reviewed and remarkably affordable for the location made it all the more appealing.

Even James had to admit the atmosphere was something else as they entered. He could feel the music in his bones and he was swaying to himself already before he knew what he was doing.

The tragedy was that despite his best efforts, James was pretty much the only one that had yet to pick up a girl. He made his way over to the bar as the rest of the group scattered.

He slipped into a bar stool and took a moment to breathe. He sighed and rubbed his face, feeling a bit put out now that everyone else was busy trying to get into girls’ panties.

James flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Tough day?"

"Yeah," he said, looking to the side as a man, probably in his mid-30s, sat down on the seat next to him. "What’s it to you?"

The stranger shrugged, swiveling around in his stool to face the dance floor as he rested his elbows on the countertop. "Nothing." He gestured toward the crowded dance floor with his chin. "Just thought you looked pretty bummed for someone in such a lively place."

James scoffed. He flagged down the bartender. "Two shots of something strong, please," he said before turning back to the stranger. "Yeah, well… I’m in mourning," he said.

"Oh no," said the man. James couldn’t tell if the concern was genuine or performative but he didn’t care. "Someone close to you?"

James shook his head and watched as the bartender approached with two shots and a bottle of something he didn’t recognize. "Yeah," he said. "We’ve been through so much together."

"I’m sorry to hear that," said the stranger. "What was he to you, if you don’t mind my asking?"

James chuckled. He stuck a hand down the back of his pants and pulled out his wallet, tossing the leather onto the bar. "This is him," he said. "He’s not dead yet but he’s dying. Probably be dead before the night is over."

The man glanced at the wallet and laughed. "Ah. I see. I think I like you," he said. He held out a hand. "Erik."

James swiped a shot glass from the counter and knocked it back as soon as the bartender had finished pouring. He reached over and shook Erik’s hand. "James," he said.

Erik’s grip was firm and he had the callouses of someone who used his hands a lot for a living. James liked that.

"How about you?" said James. "How come you’re here and not there?"

Erik laughed and shook his head. "Not my scene," he said. "Not a big fan of getting crushed in a crowd of sweaty, desperate guys."

Glancing over his shoulder as he picked up the second shot glass, James noted there did seem to be an awful lot more guys than girls on the dance floor. "I can see why," he said.

"Right?" said Erik. "Anyway, what do you do, James?"

James knocked back the shot. It was so much worse than the first one, somehow, despite being the same exact drink. He coughed and thumped his chest. "Went down wrong," he said hoarsely.

He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before he answered Erik. "Sports, I guess? I’m still a student."

"Oh," said Erik. He perked up and turned to face James. "That’s usually the kind of thing that gets women throwing themselves at you all night, so what gives?"

James shrugged. "I dunno," he said. He lifted an arm and sniffed his armpit. "It’s not that I stink tonight. Anyway, how about you? What do you do?"

Erik laughed. "Stink. Good one. I’m a biotech engineer," he said.

"So… Like… Laser surgery and those robot prosthetics sorts of things?" said James. It wasn’t the kind of work he’d have expected given Erik’s hands.

Erik shrugged. "Kinda. My department’s working on unlocking the secrets of the olfactory system right now."

James frowned. He knew that word. "Oh! Smells and stuff?" he said. "I wouldn’t have thought that was important enough for that sort of thing."

Erik chuckled. "Oh, it’s more important than you think," he says. "Our olfactory system controls a lot of things, you know? Like… Part of sexual attraction is based on smells."

"Really?" said James. "So… Girls would like it if I smelled more?"

"No, no. It’s not as simple as that," Erik laughed. "It’s all about the pheromones."

James quirked an eyebrow.

"How do I explain?" Erik pondered. "Pheromones are like… A scent that you can’t consciously smell but that your body responds to. Ever gotten so close to a girl that didn’t really smell of anything but she still smelled really good to you?"

James thought about it for a second. "I… I guess, yeah? That’s pheromones?" Come to think of it, the girl in question had also ended up being one of the best lays of his life.

"Probably," said Erik.

"Nice." After a moment, James looked at Erik and said, "So, wait. You said you’re working on it, right?"

Erik nodded.

James leaned in. He looked around, as if worried someone might see him. "So… Have you come up with anything to help a guy that’s been having a dry night?" he whispered.

Erik laughed. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small spray bottle. "Between you and me, man? Hell yeah. Why? You wanna give it a shot?"

James grinned. "I mean, why not?" he said. "It’s not like I’m getting any luckier sitting here talking to you."

"Here I thought we were having fun," said Erik with a chuckle.

James grinned. "Not as much fun as we could have if we had some chicks under us, bro."

Not that he was a fag or anything, but he could tell Erik was one handsome guy. Blond, blue-eyed, with a masculine cut to his jaw and a perfectly coiffed hairstyle, Erik looked like the kind of guy many women would swoon over.

Erik smelled good, too. Not that that was much of a surprise considering what he’d told James his work was about.

"You’re not seriously proposing a foursome, are you?" said Erik as he cocked an eyebrow.

James shrugged. He hadn’t but now that he thought about it, it wasn’t a bad idea. He looked Erik up and down and while the guy looked particularly sharp and business-like in his suit, the well-tailored get-up hinted at a pretty good body underneath.

Again, not that he was a fag or anything, but he didn’t think he’d exactly mind seeing Erik naked. It was a bit weird to think it but he couldn’t help imagining that Erik had a fat dick—one he wouldn’t complain if he had to watch it pumping into a tight pussy.

Erik chuckles. "I don’t think so, man," he said. "Not my style."

"Oh come on! Nothing faggy about it! Just two bros getting their rocks off with a pair of holes!" said James.

He figured that was Erik’s hang-up with the idea. Sure, it was a bit weird to fuck a chick in the same room as another guy fucking a chick but the way he figured, it would just be like watching live porn.

"Hah," Erik laughed and shook his head. "That’s not it. I’m not after that kind of thing tonight. But if you want to try and see if the perfume does you any favors, you’re welcome to try," he said.

James shrugged. "Sure, why not?" he said as he surreptitiously palmed the bulge in his pants.

He had to admit, he was a bit bummed that Erik wasn’t going for it. The guy was attractive as hell and he’d already managed to work himself up to a half-chub by imagining what it would be like to fuck a girl side by side with Erik.

"You really don’t want to get in on the action?" said James. "I’m sure there’s probably a pretty clean motel room somewhere nearby, if you want."

He didn’t know why he was so hung up on this foursome thing but part of him just really wanted to see Erik naked. It was the first time he’d ever felt this way for a guy. And it was weird, sure, but it wasn’t gay if he was thinking about seeing Erik naked with a chick.

"I’m pretty sure," said Erik.

It didn’t escape James’ attention that Erik was looking him up and down, though. The guy had to feel the same way about him.

Erik was probably just shy. That was it. James was sure that was the explanation he was looking for. He was a jock so he was used to seeing his buddies naked but it was pretty clear Erik fell more on the nerd side of things. He probably just needed a bit of a push.

James decided that if the pheromones worked, he’d grab a second chick and bring her over for Erik. He was sure Erik wouldn’t be able to resist taking him up on his foursome offer if he had a smoking hot babe already lined up.

"Alright, fine," said James. He’d play along for now. Then when he had a pair of hot chicks for the two of them, he’d spring the trap and he was certain Erik would fall for it. "Hit me. But don’t bitch at me when you end up not pulling any tonight."

Erik laughed and leaned in. "I can manage," he said.

Damn, James thought to himself. Erik smelled really good. It made him want to see the guy naked even more.

Not just that. He wanted to see Erik flushed and sweaty, grunting as he fucked the living daylights out of someone. James didn’t even care who that someone was. It was weird, but he didn’t even really care if that someone was even a girl.

He didn’t have too long to dwell on those thoughts because Erik brought the spray bottle up and gave James a few spritzes on the sides of the neck. "There," said Erik. "That should do the trick."

"Thanks, man," said James. He felt a lot more confident already as he got up from his bar stool. And he didn’t know if it was just his imagination but he was pretty sure a couple of women were already looking his way. Nice.

"Maybe I’ll bring a girl back for you, man!" he said.

Erik laughed. "I’d love to see you try."

James wobbled as he walked away from the bar. He suddenly felt lightheaded and faint. The girls that had been looking at him were smirking amongst themselves all of a sudden, and he didn’t realize why until he felt something warm trickling down the inside of his leg.

He stared blankly at the growing wet stain in his pants as he lost control of his body. The last thing he felt as his consciousness faded was a pair of hard, burly men grabbing him by the arms and dragging him away from the dance floor.

---

James awoke to the sound of gentle burbling and the soft, telltale hiss of a gas flame he recognized from having to use Bunsen burners in chemistry labs.

He blinked blearily and looked around, confused. The last thing he remembered was being at the club, agreeing to test out Erik’s pheromone thing in the hopes that Erik would get into a foursome with him.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure why he’d been so obsessed with the idea. It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing he’d normally come up with. And now that he thought about it, it wasn’t as appealing as he’d thought it was back then.

Oh, part of him still wanted it to happen but not quite as badly as before. It helped that he had other concerns at the moment.

Looking around, James could tell he was in a chemistry lab of some sort. It was small. He’d even go so far as to call it cozy.

The lights were turned down. The overhead ones were off entirely while the ones mounted under the cabinets to illuminate the countertops that ringed the room seemed to be on their lowest settings.

Something was boiling but James couldn’t see what. It took him trying to look behind him before he realized that first, his body felt like a lump of lead, and that second, he was tied down to a metal chair in the middle of the room.

Even if he could have thrown his weight against the leather straps keeping him in place, he didn’t think he’d accomplish much considering that the legs appeared to be bolted to the floor.

For all the strength he’d built up over the years, it meant nothing if he couldn’t get his body to move. He wasn’t paralyzed or anything. He didn’t think so, anyway.

He could still feel his arms and legs. He just couldn’t move. It was like his body was still asleep and only his head was awake. It didn’t feel right.

One thing was abundantly clear, though: he’d been kidnapped. He didn’t know how, when, or why, just that he had been.

He had no idea who could have done it to him. He didn’t think he had too many enemies. He was usually pretty respectful and he tried not to step on too many toes so he couldn’t imagine why anyone would have a grudge against him, specifically.

Fortunately, James didn’t have to wonder for too long who had kidnapped him. The door he was facing opened quietly on well-oiled hinges as Erik stepped into the room.

The fucker smiled at him, a steaming mug of what smelled like rich, bitter coffee in his hands. "Oh, you’re awake."

"W-what the fuck, man? W-where am I? What am I doing here?" James thought he and Erik had hit it off pretty well so the sense of betrayal stung more than anything else. The gravity of his situation just hadn’t quite hit him yet.

Erik shrugged and took a sip from his mug. "I told you," he said. "I like you."

A chill ran down James’ spine as the realization that he was in more danger than he imagined began to set in. "W-wait," he said. "You don’t have to do this, man."

"Do what?" said Erik, quirking an eyebrow.

"L-look. If you need the money to continue your research I can talk to my dad and convince him to invest in your firm," said James. Money was usually the issue and his family had a fair bit so he wasn’t afraid to throw it around for leverage when he needed to.

Erik scoffed and waved it off. "Money?" he said, shaking his head. "I don’t need money. My firm’s doing just fine, man."

James gulped audibly. In his mind, it left only one alternative: that Erik was a serial killer. The stuff boiling behind him was probably the acid Erik would use to get rid of his body.

His heart thumped, hammering against his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever been so scared in his life. "P-please don’t kill me!" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Erik stared at him silently for a few seconds before bursting into laugher. "I won’t kill you," he said. "I just told you. I like you."

James’ eye twitched. His brain simply could not compute. "W-what does that mean?" he said. If Erik didn’t want him for his money or for the blood-curdling screams he was sure he would make as he was cut up into little pieces, he had no idea what Erik could possibly "like" him for.

Erik rolled his eyes. "God," he said. "You’re such a dumbass. I fucking love it."

James stared at him blankly. "Huh?"

Erik set his coffee down and crossed the room to stand in front of James. Erik stood over James, legs spread slightly apart as he reached between his legs and palmed his bulge through his pants.

James stared at it. "I-I mean, if you wanted me to wingman for you, bro, you should have just said so."

He flinched as Erik slammed a hand on the metal frame of the chair he was strapped to. Erik leaned down, bringing them face to face.

The first thing James noticed was how good Erik smelled. The second thing was the pair of fingers slowly walking up the middle of his chest. "I… like… you," said Erik in a low seductive tone that finally got through James’ thick skull.

James’ eyes went wide. "H-holy shit, man! You should have said you were a faggot! Not that I have anything against that or anything but I’m not a faggot!"

Erik smirked. "You’d be surprised, James," he said. "Sexuality’s a lot easier to change than you think."

James laughed. "Hah," he said. "Good one." Like anyone would believe that.

Erik shrugged and tapped James on the tip of the nose. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, man. Whether you believe me or not doesn’t change a damn thing."

James took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the strangely alluring scent that Erik was wearing. "Man…" he said, looking into Erik’s bright blue eyes. "You’re so fucking hot."

The corner of Erik’s mouth twitched as James’ brain took a moment to process what he’d just said.

James’ eyes went wide. "Crazy!" he said. "That’s what I meant to say! You’re so fucking crazy! You’re a hot mess! I don’t think you’re hot! I’m not a faggot!"

Erik laughed. "Poor little dumbass," he said, straightening up and ruffling James’ hair. "You don’t even know how fucked up you already are."

Despite himself, James found himself closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. Erik’s fingers were warm. They felt good on his scalp. They made his skin tingle.

He chased after Erik’s hand as it pulled away. He didn’t even have to think about it, acting purely on instinct because he wanted more.

It was only a moment later, when his conscious mind had managed to catch up that he realized what he’d done. He was mortified. "What the fuck?" he said under his breath. "What the fuck? What’s going on with me?"

"Easier to change than you think!" Erik called out in a sing-song voice as he rummaged around for something in a cupboard that was hidden from James’ view by a large table.

Oh, God, James thought to himself. Why did such an attractive man have to be fucking insane?

There was no way Erik was anything but delusional. Sexuality couldn’t be changed just on a whim. He was just discovering a side of himself he’d never known before.

Maybe he was having a bisexual awakening. He was pretty sure that was a thing. Or maybe it was just something about Erik, specifically. Maybe Erik was his one exception, the guy he found incredibly sexually attractive despite being 100% straight.

He just couldn’t believe that Erik truly had the power to turn him gay. That just wasn’t a thing.

Calling to mind images of naked women, he made sure to check he hadn’t turned gay without his knowledge. Since his cock twitched in response, he figured he was still safe.

"Ah! There we are!"

James jumped at the sound of Erik’s voice. He looked up just in time to watch Erik get up with some sort of contraption in his hands.

As Erik walked back toward James, the nature of the object he held in his hands became abundantly clear. It was an athletic cup. James had seen enough of those in his life to know what they looked like.

The difference was that this cup had a few modifications. For one thing, there were straps and they didn’t look like they’d be big enough to fit around a guy’s waist.

"W-what are you planning to do with that?" said James.

"You’ll see," said Erik. He stepped on the heel of one of his shoes and gently kicked it off before doing the same with his other shoe.

James gulped audibly, his cock twitching against his leg as he watched Erik deftly unbutton his pants and unzip. For all his reservations, he couldn’t look away. Erik was stripping.

Even though he was straight—really—and he shouldn’t have found it so enticing, he was fascinated. He might have even gasped a little as Erik hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and shimmied them down his legs.

Like James, Erik was wearing a jockstrap under his jeans. Unlike James, Erik was wearing a pair of designer ones made primarily of black fabric with a red cotton pouch and thin white stripes along the straps.

As soon as the pants were off and kicked to the side, the peculiar scent that had been tickling James’ nose, teasing his olfactory nerves the whole time, seemed to grow thicker in the air. He was finally able to put a finger on it. Musk.

He’d been smelling the scent of Erik’s masculinity the whole time and it had turned him on. Which he guessed probably made him a little gay, but not by enough to make a difference since he was pretty sure he was still at least 99% straight.

"Holy shit, bro. You’re packing," James blurted out in wide-eyed wonder. Erik filled out the pouch of his jockstrap very nicely and the outline of his cock head was plain to see in the cotton.

"Thanks," said Erik with a wry grin. He looped his thumbs through the waistband of his jockstrap and he shimmied it down his legs.

Erik’s fat cock fell out of the pouch, followed by a set of heavy, juicy-looking balls. It was no less substantial than James’ own endowment and the sight of it—and the thickening of the musk in the air consequent to its release—made James salivate.

Not a lot, since he was straight. But a little. Because holy shit, Erik had a nice cock.

"Like the view?" said Erik, waggling his from side to side, forcing his hefty cock and balls to swing through the air.

"Y-yeah," James stammered, unable to take his eyes away from the show. "But, like, in a ‘nice cock, bro’ kind of way, if you know what I mean? Not in, like, an ‘I want to suck you off’ kind of way?"

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t want to suck Erik off but he wouldn’t exactly complain if he got a bit of a taste. Just a taste. To satisfy his curiosity. It didn’t have to be more than that. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Erik laughed. "Still fighting, I see," he said. "Well, let’s take care of that, shall we?"

No small amount of apprehension and anxiety worked its way through James as Erik stuffed the jock into the athletic cup. It would have fallen out if he’d left it alone but he kept it pressed into the plastic with his thumb as he approached James.

James tried to turn his head away but he didn’t have enough control and could only manage to turn his head sideways. It wasn’t enough.

Erik released the jockstrap as he pressed the cup into James’ face. The wider part went over his chin and mouth, while the narrow part, which upon closer inspection appeared to have been modified to be more ergonomic for its purpose, went over James’ nose.

"Gross!" James protested, his words muffled by the cup. "What the fuck, man?! I don’t want your junk stink in my face."

Well, maybe he did. A little. Just because it smelled so good. Not because he was gay and wanted to rub his face all over Erik’s crotch or anything. It just smelled good. But definitely not good enough to warrant having a dirty jock shoved in his face.

"Just shut up and take a deep breath, dumbass," said Erik as he buckled the straps down against the back of James’ head.

"With your jock in my face, bro?" said James. He shook his head from side to side as Erik pulled away from him but damn, those straps were pulled tight. There wasn’t even a hint of slack at all. The cup wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

"Yeah," said Erik. "That’s the point of the gag."

"Fuck, man. No fucking way. That’s disgusting…"

James trailed off. He tried not to breathe but he could feel the scent tickling his nose. To make matters worse, his lungs were burning for air.

He tried to stay strong, to resist temptation, but it was a bit too much. "Fuck…" he said weakly. "No…"

But it couldn’t possibly be that bad to take one breath, right? One couldn’t hurt.

One whiff of another man’s jockstrap wasn’t going to turn him into a fag, right?

Too late. James’ body had had enough. Just as his vision was going black around the edges, his body took over and forced him to take a big gulping lungful of air.

A bolt of pleasure tore through him as the delectable scent of Erik’s maleness surged up his nose and into his skull. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck! Shit!" he moaned as he felt his cock go from half-hard to rock-hard in the space of a heartbeat.

Before he could stop himself, he had taken another breath. He shivered. It smelled so good. He couldn’t help but moan as his cock twitched and throbbed against his thigh.

He tried to think of girls to reassure himself that he wasn’t turning gay because of this but the only image that seemed to want to jump to his mind was that of Erik’s pendulous cock and balls swinging between his legs.

"Having fun?" said Erik, reaching down to rub and squeeze James’ arousal through the fabric of his pants. "That thing’s gotta be particularly potent since I made sure to work out in it."

James moaned, mindlessly huffing the scent of Erik’s jock like an addict would a pot of glue. "Fuuuck…" he groaned, seemingly having been robbed of his faculties of speech.

Erik laughed. "And just to make sure it’s super effective, I let it marinate in my sweat and body odor for a week."

James groaned. His head was spinning. He wasn’t a faggot but goddamn if Erik’s jockstrap didn’t smell like the best thing he’d had shoved in his face all week.

Erik walked around to one of the cabinets and pulled out a row of small brown bottles that he arrayed on a tabletop just within James’ sight. Erik grinned at him. "Now that we’ve got you nice and horned up for me… Why don’t we get started?"