MUFFLED EUCALYPTUS
He didn’t know when it started. Maybe the first week. Maybe the first time he pulled the mask up and smelled that sharp, clean eucalyptus. The gym said it was for hygiene. Infection control. He nodded and wore it. Everyone did.
But the smell stayed.
It soaked into the cloth. Into his breathing. Into his head.
All day he trained people — corrected posture, touched backs and hips without thinking, felt heat through skin. Sweat. Breath. Muscles tightening under his hands. The mask pressed warm against his mouth, catching every exhale. He liked how it made the world smaller. Quieter. Like he was underwater.
After work, his body felt loud even when the city wasn’t.
Some days he just walked. No bag, no phone in his hand. His legs knew where to go. The hotel. Same one every time. He didn’t ask why. He just knew which floor. Which room.
Inside, he locked the door and stood still.
Sunlight spilled across the bed, dust floating slow in the air. He stripped without rush. Shirt off. Jeans pushed down. The white trunks stayed on. Tight. Familiar. Holding him in. The mask stayed too. He liked that part most — the way it hid his mouth, swallowed his breath.
He stood by the window and looked at his reflection in the glass. Broad chest. Thick arms. Everything tense, like it was waiting for permission. His breathing grew heavier. Muffled. The sound stayed close to his face.
When he lay down, the sheets were cool. His hand moved over his stomach, slow, almost absent. Fingers tracing lines he knew by heart. His body reacted before his thoughts did. A pressure building, pulsing, trapped by fabric and heat.
He shifted. Spread his legs slightly. Let the feeling roll through him.
The mask darkened with breath. Every sound he made died there. That made it easier. Safer. He could imagine no one hearing. Or imagine the opposite.
The mirror across the room caught everything. He didn’t notice it at first. Just the feeling of being held in place by his own need. Then something changed. The air felt thicker. Charged. Like a held breath that wasn’t his.
He didn’t stop.
His hand tightened. His body arched just a little. Muscles flexing without instruction. The scent of eucalyptus filled his head, sharp and dizzying. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripped down his temples, soaking into the mask’s edge. His skin gleamed, every muscle standing out in stark relief.
He felt a coiling deep in his gut, a tight, hot spring winding up. His hips rocked once, a helpless, shallow thrust against the confining fabric. Then it hit. A shudder racked his frame, his abs clenched like stone, and a thick, sudden warmth bloomed in the front of his trunks, spreading hot and sticky against his skin. He gasped into the mask, the sound a wet, muffled rush.
When it passed, he stayed still. Eventually he sat up, adjusted himself, smoothed the trunks like nothing had happened. He pulled the mask down for one second, then put it back on. The smell was still there.
--------------
If you want advanced access to ten more chapters of the latest tagalog full fiction story ahead of blog readers and get other perks such as weekly teasers and a feature in one #squirtershorts within the month, please subscribe to patreon.com/jockwonderlust. If you want to support me and my craft, please subscribe!
No comments:
Post a Comment