INTERN SUGGESTIONS
Ethan and Marco had always kept things sharp: tailored suits, ironed smiles, locker-room jabs that bordered on something else. They were the kind of men who shook hands a little too firmly, who worked late not because they had to… but because neither wanted to leave while the other stayed.
Then came Julian.
A lithe figure with an unassuming air and eyes too knowing for someone with an intern badge. He moved like he wasn’t trying to be noticed. Every glance, every word he spoke seemed to land just beneath the skin.
“You two ever notice how often you stand like that?” he said one evening, watching them from across the boardroom — Ethan and Marco shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning in, unaware.
“Like what?” Ethan asked, jaw tight.
Julian tilted his head. “Like you want to touch. But you haven’t given yourselves permission.”
The room fell quiet. Tension sharpened like a blade dragged slowly across glass.
Julian stepped forward, close enough now that Ethan could feel the faint heat radiating off his slender frame. “You admire each other,” he said softly. “It’s obvious. The way you watch each other at the gym. The way you both smile when the other isn’t looking.”
He turned to Marco. “You’ve imagined it, haven’t you? What his skin feels like. What it would be like to give in.”
Marco didn’t speak, but his breath betrayed him. Shallow. Caught.
“Touch him,” Julian said, barely above a whisper.
A pause. Then — Ethan’s hand lifted, slow, like it wasn’t his own, brushing Marco’s chest just beneath the open collar. Warm. Solid. Familiar and brand new.
Marco exhaled through parted lips. “You feel… better than I imagined.”
Julian’s fingers moved next, tracing Ethan’s wrist, guiding it lower. “You don’t have to hold back anymore.”
The tension shattered like ice under flame.
Shirts untucked. Ties loosened. Hands exploring under the guise of curiosity — but it wasn’t curiosity anymore. It was hunger.
Their bodies collided with a kind of silent urgency, foreheads touching, breaths shared. Ethan’s mouth hovered over Marco’s jawline, and Marco’s hand pressed firmly to Ethan’s lower back. Every inch of them was heat — contact charged with the promise of more.
And Julian?
He slid between them like a current of smoke and desire, fingers ghosting over chests, eyes half-lidded with something between reverence and control. “This,” he murmured, voice thick, “is just the beginning.”
Ethan shivered as Julian’s hand traced down his spine.
Marco’s lips brushed Ethan’s ear. “Do we let it happen?”
Julian answered for them, voice curling like steam, “You already are.”
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