MAROON CREAMED
Jordan stood in Adrian’s small studio, shirtless, holding a tiny pair of maroon swim briefs like they were some kind of prank.“You really want me to wear this?” he said, half-laughing.
Adrian sat by the window, camera on his lap, light falling across his face. “Yeah. You promised. Just one shoot. Swimwear line.”
Jordan shook his head. “I thought you meant shorts, man. Not these little nut-huggers.”
“They’re briefs,” Adrian said calmly. “Classic. Looks good on a real body.”
Jordan groaned but started unbuttoning his jeans anyway. “Masculine, huh? We’ll see.”
He stepped out of his pants, slid the maroon briefs up his legs. Tight. Real tight. He adjusted himself, feeling the stretch over his thighs and the way it hugged his cock and ass. He looked at the mirror on the wall and froze. His chest broad, abs carved, that deep red fabric clinging to him like it belonged there.
It didn’t look like a joke anymore. It looked… right.
Adrian raised the camera. “That’s it. Don’t pose. Just stand there. Feel it.”
Jordan’s lips pressed together, but he couldn’t help shifting, one hip tilting, hand resting at the waistband like he was teasing. The shutter clicked.
“You ever feel like people look at your body but don’t really see you?” Jordan asked suddenly, voice quieter.
Adrian didn’t look through the lens now. He just looked. “I see it.”
Something dropped in Jordan’s chest. He stepped toward the window curtain, pulling it half across his body, letting it slide over his pecs and abs while the briefs stayed on full display. He watched Adrian’s throat bob, like he was trying to swallow down something hot.
“What’s this color called again?” Jordan asked.
“Maroon Creamed,” Adrian said.
Jordan snorted. “Sounds like some gay-ass cocktail. Or what happens if I keep this thing on too long.”
They both laughed, but it only made the air thicker.
Jordan turned around, giving his back to the camera. The fabric stretched across his ass, tight, showing every line. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You sure you just want pics?”
The camera lowered. Adrian’s breathing was louder now.
Jordan stepped closer, slow. The heat rolled off his skin—sweat, sun, man. The maroon briefs didn’t hide the fact he was hard now. He didn’t try to.
Adrian’s eyes dropped, then shot back up. Jordan smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
The distance closed, inches now. Neither of them moved away. The camera dangled useless in Adrian’s hand. Jordan’s chest rose and fell heavy, his cock straining against the briefs, the outline obvious. Adrian’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach but was holding back.
Jordan leaned in, breath hot on his ear. “Take the shot… or take me.”
And Adrian didn’t move back.
Jordan’s breath was still in Adrian’s ear. Hot. Damp. Almost daring.“Take the shot… or take me,” he whispered again, lower now.
Adrian didn’t lift the camera. He let it fall gently to the bed behind him, forgotten.
Jordan stepped even closer. Their bare chests nearly touched. His fingers came up and slid across Adrian’s jaw, slow and lazy. “Didn’t think I’d actually get hard, huh?”
Adrian’s voice came out rough. “I was hoping.”
Jordan smirked, and then—he pressed forward. Their mouths didn’t kiss at first. Just brushed. Teased. But Jordan’s cock was already pressing against Adrian’s jeans, the maroon briefs doing nothing to hide how hard he was now.
Adrian groaned. “Fuck, you’re burning up.”
“Yeah? Feel it,” Jordan said, grabbing Adrian’s wrist and dragging it to the front of his briefs.
Adrian didn’t resist. His hand cupped the bulge. Firm. Heavy. Hot through the fabric. Jordan bucked into it, hips rolling slow, lazy, cock throbbing against Adrian’s palm.
Then Adrian’s hand moved lower, slipping under the waistband. Skin to skin.
Jordan sucked in a breath. “Yeah… there. Grip it.”
He tilted his head, finally kissing Adrian full-on—wet, messy, his tongue pushing in deep while Adrian stroked him slow, fingers wrapping tight around the base, then gliding up the length.
The briefs slid lower, pushed by Adrian’s hand, until Jordan’s cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already slick at the tip.
“You got lube?” Jordan muttered against his mouth.
Adrian nodded toward the nightstand. Jordan grabbed it fast, squirted a line down Adrian’s hand, then turned around without warning. Bent over the windowsill, ass arched high, briefs around his thighs. “Use it.”
Adrian stared. The light hit Jordan’s back, his broad shoulders flexing, the deep shadow between his cheeks practically begging.
Adrian slicked up his fingers, then slid one in. Jordan groaned low, grinding back into it.
“Fuck, man,” Adrian muttered, pushing deeper.
“C’mon,” Jordan growled. “No more teasing.”
Adrian unzipped, pushed his jeans down just enough, lined up, and—
He slid in. Slow. Deep.
Jordan’s knuckles went white on the sill. “Fuck—shit—Adrian—”
Adrian held his hips, started thrusting. Smooth. Strong. The sound of skin slapping, Jordan’s moans echoing off the studio walls.
“Harder,” Jordan panted. “You fucking wanted this, right?”
Adrian slammed in. Again. Again. The maroon briefs bounced at Jordan’s knees.
Adrian reached around, stroking him in rhythm now, both of them soaked in sweat, the room thick with heat and sex and skin.
Jordan’s voice broke. “Gonna—fuck—I’m gonna—”
He came hard, ropes of white hitting the windowsill, the wall, dripping down his abs.
Adrian followed a second later, hips jerking, cock buried deep, moaning Jordan’s name.
When it was done, they stood there, panting, dripping.
Jordan looked over his shoulder, lips red, eyes wild. “Think your camera caught all that?”
Adrian grinned, breathless. “No… but we can do it again.”
Jordan smirked. “Good. This time, I’m entering.”
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