The gym was a temple of focus for Marcus, or so he liked to tell himself. The weights clanked, the music thumped, and the air smelled faintly of iron and sweat. He was here to lock in, to channel all his energy into the grind. But today, his mind kept drifting. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how heavy the weights he lifted, he couldn’t shake the image from his head.Him.Elliot. His best friend. The guy who could make the tightest gym shorts look like they were struggling to contain the sheer mass of his ass. The gym was a temple of focus for Marcus, or so he liked to tell himself. The weights clanked, the music thumped, and the air smelled faintly of iron and sweat. He was here to lock in, to channel all his energy into the grind. But today, his mind kept drifting. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how heavy the weights he lifted, he couldn’t shake the image from his head. Him. Elliot. His best friend. The guy who could make the tightest gym shorts look like they were struggling to contain the sheer mass of his ass.The way those glutes moved when he squatted—Marcus had to stop himself from staring every damn time. Every. Damn. Time. It wasn’t just the size of them, though that was impossible to ignore. Elliot’s ass was a masterpiece of muscle and flesh, each cheek huge and round, flexing and rippling with every movement. When he bent down, the fabric of his shorts stretched so tight Marcus swore he could see every detail, every curve, every subtle shift as Elliot powered through his set. The way his cheeks spread slightly as he descended, then clenched hard as he pushed back up—it was hypnotic.And the sheer mass of it. Elliot’s ass wasn’t just big; it was massive. It jiggled with the slightest movement, the kind of ass that demanded attention, that made heads turn even in a place full of sculpted bodies. Marcus could feel his own body reacting, his focus slipping further and further away. He tried to look elsewhere, to think about anything else, but it was no use. Those glutes were a gravitational force, pulling him in, making it harder to ignore. Literally.Elliot’s grunt snapped him back to reality, but only for a second. The sound was low and guttural, and it only made Marcus’s imagination run wilder. He could feel himself getting harder, his resolve crumbling with every rep, every movement of those impossibly huge, perfect ass cheeks. He was losing the battle, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.Focus, Marcus, he told himself, gripping the barbell harder, knuckles white. You’re here to work out, not to fantasize about your best friend’s ass.But the harder he tried to lock in, the more his thoughts spiraled. He remembered last week, when Elliot had bent over to pick up his water bottle after a set of deadlifts. The way his shorts had hugged his cheeks like they were begging for mercy. The way Marcus had caught himself staring, mouth dry, heart pounding. He’d quickly looked away, but the image had burned itself into his brain.Now, as he lay on the bench press, his mind was a warzone. One side was screaming at him to focus, damn it, while the other side was replaying that moment on an endless loop, adding details that made Marcus’s breath hitch. The sweat glistening on Elliot’s lower back. The way his T-shirt rode up just enough to reveal a hint of skin. The faint outline of his—“Hey, man, you good?”Marcus nearly dropped the barbell. He turned his head to see Elliot standing there, a concerned frown on his face. Of course it was him. Of course it was.“Yeah, I’m good,” Marcus muttered, sitting up and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He avoided eye contact, knowing full well that one look at Elliot’s stupidly handsome face would send him spiraling again.“You sure? You’ve been zoning out all day,” Elliot said, plopping down on the bench next to him. His thighs spread slightly, and Marcus’s eyes flicked downward before he could stop himself. Those damn shorts.“I’m fine,” Marcus said quickly, his voice a little too tight. “Just… distracted, I guess.”Elliot tilted his head, his dark eyes searching Marcus’s face. “You wanna talk about it?”No, I don’t want to talk about it because if I do, I might tell you how much I want to bury my face in your ass and never come up for air.“It’s nothing,” Marcus lied, standing up and grabbing his water bottle. He chugged it, hoping the cold liquid would douse the heat building inside him. It didn’t.Elliot watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, man. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?”Marcus nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He watched as Elliot walked away, his hips swaying just enough to make Marcus’s brain short-circuit. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady himself.You’re being ridiculous. He’s your best friend. You can’t—But he could. And he wanted to. Badly.The rest of the workout was a blur. Marcus went through the motions, but his heart wasn’t in it. Every time Elliot was within his line of sight, his focus shattered. It was maddening. By the time they were done, Marcus was a sweaty, frustrated mess, his thoughts as tangled as his gym bag’s straps.“Shower?” Elliot asked, slinging his towel over his shoulder.Marcus hesitated. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”Elliot nodded and headed toward the locker room, leaving Marcus alone. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. But it was no use. The image of Elliot’s ass was seared into his brain, and the more he tried to push it away, the more it consumed him.By the time he made it to the showers, Elliot was already in the stall, the sound of running water echoing through the tiled room. Marcus stripped down quickly, his hands shaking as he undid the laces of his sneakers. He stepped into the stall next to Elliot’s, turning the water on as cold as it would go.The icy spray did little to cool the fire inside him. He pressed his forehead against the tile, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to will the thoughts away. But then he heard Elliot humming softly, and his resolve crumbled.It was the most casual sound, but it sent a jolt through Marcus’s body. He could picture Elliot standing there, water cascading down his broad shoulders, his hands running through his dark hair. The thought made Marcus’s knees weak.Stop. Just stop.But he couldn’t. His hand drifted downward almost of its own accord, his fingers brushing against his hardening length. He bit his lip, stifling a groan as he began to stroke himself, the steam from the shower making his head swim.This is wrong. So wrong.But it felt so damn good. His hand moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he imagined Elliot’s body pressed against his, their skin slick with sweat. He could almost feel the heat radiating off Elliot’s skin, the way his muscles would feel under Marcus’s hands.And then, without warning, the fantasy shifted. He wasn’t just imagining them together—he was imagining himself on his knees, face buried in Elliot’s ass, his tongue exploring every inch of him. The image was so vivid, so real, that Marcus’s knees buckled, and he had to brace himself against the wall to stay upright.God, I want it. I want him.His hand moved faster, his breathing ragged as the fantasy consumed him. He could almost taste Elliot’s skin, salty and sweet, could feel the way his muscles would quiver under Marcus’s touch. He was so close, so close, when—“Marcus? You okay in there?”The sound of Elliot’s voice snapped him out of it. His hand stilled, his heart racing as he struggled to compose himself. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”“You sure? You’ve been in there a while.”“Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.”There was a pause, and then Elliot said, “Alright. I’ll see you outside.”Marcus waited until he heard Elliot’s footsteps fade away before he let out a shaky breath. He turned off the water and leaned against the wall, his legs trembling beneath him.He couldn’t do this anymore. The feelings were too much, the desire too intense. He had to tell Elliot. He had to.But when he stepped out of the shower, towel slung low around his hips, and saw Elliot sitting on the bench, his hair still damp and his shirt clinging to his chest, the words caught in Marcus’s throat.“Hey,” Elliot said, looking up with that easy smile of his. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”Marcus swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. Do it. Just say it.“Elliot, I—” he started, but the words died on his lips. He couldn’t. He just… couldn’t.Elliot frowned, standing up and taking a step toward him. “What is it, man? You’ve been acting weird all day.”Marcus’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck, the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing down on him. And then, before he could stop himself, he blurted it out.“I can’t stop thinking about you.”Elliot blinked, his expression unreadable. “What?”Marcus took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… about your ass. About how much I want to…” He trailed off, his face burning with shame.For a long moment, Elliot just stared at him. Then, to Marcus’s utter disbelief, he chuckled. “Yeah? And what do you want to do to my ass, Marcus?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.“I—” Marcus started, but Elliot cut him off, stepping closer until they were almost chest to chest.“Go on,” Elliot said, his eyes dark with something Marcus couldn’t quite place. “Tell me.”Marcus’s breath hitched. “I want to… touch you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I want to taste you. I want to—"“Then do it,” Elliot interrupted, his voice firm. “Show me.”Marcus hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. And then, before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees.

Marcus struggles to focus on his workout at the gym, repeatedly distracted by his best friend Elliot's physique, particularly his ass. After a conversation with Elliot, Marcus finds himself unable to shake his fantasies, leading to a moment of self-pleasure in the shower. Marcus confesses his desires to Elliot, who responds with a mix of surprise and curiosity, leading to a tense and intimate moment between them.

The gym was a temple of focus for Marcus, or so he liked to tell himself. The weights clanked, the music thumped, and the air smelled faintly of iron and sweat. He was here to lock in, to channel all his energy into the grind. But today, his mind kept drifting. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how heavy the weights he lifted, he couldn’t shake the image from his head.

Him.

Elliot. His best friend. The guy who could make the tightest gym shorts look like they were struggling to contain the sheer mass of his ass. The gym was a temple of focus for Marcus, or so he liked to tell himself. The weights clanked, the music thumped, and the air smelled faintly of iron and sweat. He was here to lock in, to channel all his energy into the grind. But today, his mind kept drifting. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how heavy the weights he lifted, he couldn’t shake the image from his head. Him. Elliot. His best friend. The guy who could make the tightest gym shorts look like they were struggling to contain the sheer mass of his ass.

The way those glutes moved when he squatted—Marcus had to stop himself from staring every damn time. Every. Damn. Time. It wasn’t just the size of them, though that was impossible to ignore. Elliot’s ass was a masterpiece of muscle and flesh, each cheek huge and round, flexing and rippling with every movement. When he bent down, the fabric of his shorts stretched so tight Marcus swore he could see every detail, every curve, every subtle shift as Elliot powered through his set. The way his cheeks spread slightly as he descended, then clenched hard as he pushed back up—it was hypnotic.

And the sheer mass of it. Elliot’s ass wasn’t just big; it was massive. It jiggled with the slightest movement, the kind of ass that demanded attention, that made heads turn even in a place full of sculpted bodies. Marcus could feel his own body reacting, his focus slipping further and further away. He tried to look elsewhere, to think about anything else, but it was no use. Those glutes were a gravitational force, pulling him in, making it harder to ignore. Literally.

Elliot’s grunt snapped him back to reality, but only for a second. The sound was low and guttural, and it only made Marcus’s imagination run wilder. He could feel himself getting harder, his resolve crumbling with every rep, every movement of those impossibly huge, perfect ass cheeks. He was losing the battle, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.

Focus, Marcus, he told himself, gripping the barbell harder, knuckles white. You’re here to work out, not to fantasize about your best friend’s ass.

But the harder he tried to lock in, the more his thoughts spiraled. He remembered last week, when Elliot had bent over to pick up his water bottle after a set of deadlifts. The way his shorts had hugged his cheeks like they were begging for mercy. The way Marcus had caught himself staring, mouth dry, heart pounding. He’d quickly looked away, but the image had burned itself into his brain.

Now, as he lay on the bench press, his mind was a warzone. One side was screaming at him to focus, damn it, while the other side was replaying that moment on an endless loop, adding details that made Marcus’s breath hitch. The sweat glistening on Elliot’s lower back. The way his T-shirt rode up just enough to reveal a hint of skin. The faint outline of his—

“Hey, man, you good?”

Marcus nearly dropped the barbell. He turned his head to see Elliot standing there, a concerned frown on his face. Of course it was him. Of course it was.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Marcus muttered, sitting up and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He avoided eye contact, knowing full well that one look at Elliot’s stupidly handsome face would send him spiraling again.

“You sure? You’ve been zoning out all day,” Elliot said, plopping down on the bench next to him. His thighs spread slightly, and Marcus’s eyes flicked downward before he could stop himself. Those damn shorts.

“I’m fine,” Marcus said quickly, his voice a little too tight. “Just… distracted, I guess.”

Elliot tilted his head, his dark eyes searching Marcus’s face. “You wanna talk about it?”

No, I don’t want to talk about it because if I do, I might tell you how much I want to bury my face in your ass and never come up for air.

“It’s nothing,” Marcus lied, standing up and grabbing his water bottle. He chugged it, hoping the cold liquid would douse the heat building inside him. It didn’t.

Elliot watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, man. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

Marcus nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He watched as Elliot walked away, his hips swaying just enough to make Marcus’s brain short-circuit. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady himself.

You’re being ridiculous. He’s your best friend. You can’t—

But he could. And he wanted to. Badly.

The rest of the workout was a blur. Marcus went through the motions, but his heart wasn’t in it. Every time Elliot was within his line of sight, his focus shattered. It was maddening. By the time they were done, Marcus was a sweaty, frustrated mess, his thoughts as tangled as his gym bag’s straps.

“Shower?” Elliot asked, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

Marcus hesitated. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Elliot nodded and headed toward the locker room, leaving Marcus alone. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. But it was no use. The image of Elliot’s ass was seared into his brain, and the more he tried to push it away, the more it consumed him.

By the time he made it to the showers, Elliot was already in the stall, the sound of running water echoing through the tiled room. Marcus stripped down quickly, his hands shaking as he undid the laces of his sneakers. He stepped into the stall next to Elliot’s, turning the water on as cold as it would go.

The icy spray did little to cool the fire inside him. He pressed his forehead against the tile, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to will the thoughts away. But then he heard Elliot humming softly, and his resolve crumbled.

It was the most casual sound, but it sent a jolt through Marcus’s body. He could picture Elliot standing there, water cascading down his broad shoulders, his hands running through his dark hair. The thought made Marcus’s knees weak.

Stop. Just stop.

But he couldn’t. His hand drifted downward almost of its own accord, his fingers brushing against his hardening length. He bit his lip, stifling a groan as he began to stroke himself, the steam from the shower making his head swim.

This is wrong. So wrong.

But it felt so damn good. His hand moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he imagined Elliot’s body pressed against his, their skin slick with sweat. He could almost feel the heat radiating off Elliot’s skin, the way his muscles would feel under Marcus’s hands.

And then, without warning, the fantasy shifted. He wasn’t just imagining them together—he was imagining himself on his knees, face buried in Elliot’s ass, his tongue exploring every inch of him. The image was so vivid, so real, that Marcus’s knees buckled, and he had to brace himself against the wall to stay upright.

God, I want it. I want him.

His hand moved faster, his breathing ragged as the fantasy consumed him. He could almost taste Elliot’s skin, salty and sweet, could feel the way his muscles would quiver under Marcus’s touch. He was so close, so close, when—

“Marcus? You okay in there?”

The sound of Elliot’s voice snapped him out of it. His hand stilled, his heart racing as he struggled to compose himself. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’ve been in there a while.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.”

There was a pause, and then Elliot said, “Alright. I’ll see you outside.”

Marcus waited until he heard Elliot’s footsteps fade away before he let out a shaky breath. He turned off the water and leaned against the wall, his legs trembling beneath him.

He couldn’t do this anymore. The feelings were too much, the desire too intense. He had to tell Elliot. He had to.

But when he stepped out of the shower, towel slung low around his hips, and saw Elliot sitting on the bench, his hair still damp and his shirt clinging to his chest, the words caught in Marcus’s throat.

“Hey,” Elliot said, looking up with that easy smile of his. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Marcus swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. Do it. Just say it.

“Elliot, I—” he started, but the words died on his lips. He couldn’t. He just… couldn’t.

Elliot frowned, standing up and taking a step toward him. “What is it, man? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

Marcus’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck, the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing down on him. And then, before he could stop himself, he blurted it out.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Elliot blinked, his expression unreadable. “What?”

Marcus took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… about your ass. About how much I want to…” He trailed off, his face burning with shame.

For a long moment, Elliot just stared at him. Then, to Marcus’s utter disbelief, he chuckled. “Yeah? And what do you want to do to my ass, Marcus?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“I—” Marcus started, but Elliot cut him off, stepping closer until they were almost chest to chest.

“Go on,” Elliot said, his eyes dark with something Marcus couldn’t quite place. “Tell me.”

Marcus’s breath hitched. “I want to… touch you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I want to taste you. I want to—"

“Then do it,” Elliot interrupted, his voice firm. “Show me.”

Marcus hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. And then, before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees.

A man struggles to focus on his workout as his mind is consumed by fantasies of his best friend's massive, perfect ass. Unable to resist his desires any longer, he confesses his feelings and finds himself on his knees, rimming his friend's sweat-glistening ass, completely lost in the moment.

Marcus' Secret Desire

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