Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

1. Cat and Tanner

“You know, this is getting very sad.”

The comment drifted through one of Jean’s ears and straight out the other. He could not pay attention to anybody over the rush going through his ears as he watched the scene from afar. Friday’s Pilates class spilled out of the studio in a neon-colored wave. It looked less like exercise and more like a deranged, high-energy cult ritual. One by one, the group stumbled into the hallway wearing fluorescent shorts and tiny tops, faces flushed tomato-red, drenched in sweat, and grinning like enlightenment had been achieved through controlled breathing and core annihilation.

He, of course, was not quite focused on the large group of gorgeous people coming out of the door. Jean couldn’t have cared less about any of them. His attention was locked on the man who followed them out. Jeremy was waving goodbye to each student with that blinding, sunbeam smile he apparently handed out for free. He was wearing outrageously tiny bright-red shorts and a matching long-sleeved top that hugged him like a second skin. Jean could even see the stupid bright yellow bandana tucked into Jeremy’s blonde waves because Jeremy, for reasons known only to himself, believed in dressing like a walking highlighter set.

Jean was just beginning the portion of his daily ritual titled Stare Unwisely at Jeremy’s Ass when—

“Shit!”

Tanner’s yell snapped him back. Jean jolted, realizing belatedly that Tanner was about half a second from crushing his chest with the barbell. He and Cat grabbed it at the same time, hauling it up before disaster hit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, watching Tanner wheeze his way back to breathing like a normal person.

“He’d be better if you weren’t on the verge of killing him by staring at Jeremy’s ass,” Cat said sweetly, glaring at Jean over Tanner’s head.

Jean hissed, “I was not doing that.”

“You kind of were,” Tanner wheezed. He winced when Jean glared at him. “You’re still my favorite trainer, man. Just maybe… don’t let me die next time?”

Jean rolled his eyes and signaled for him to stand up, pointing at the Smith machine and pointedly ignoring Tanner’s resulting wince. He glanced back toward the Pilates and Yoga section. Jeremy was now speaking to what looked like his last student, a younger man with a sticky smile and hooded eyes, an expression Jean knew well. Jean’s mouth pulled into an immediate, ugly frown.

Cat slapped him between the shoulder blades, cackling. “You snooze, you lose.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, smiling wide as she looked up at Jean, before going back to finish her set. Jean frowned down at her, picked up a ten-pound weight, and placed it on her rack, watching her stumble back and lower the bar quickly. He headed back to Tanner, who was predictably struggling to position himself under the bar for squats. Jean adjusted him and tried not to look toward the flirting happening across the gym.

He failed.

It wasn’t fair to get worked up like this. He’d been at this gym for more than two months and had exchanged maybe three phrases with Jeremy. Some greetings. One accidental “nice form” that haunted him nightly. They had mutual friends, more than he could count on two hands, but somehow they’d never ended up in the same conversation long enough for Jean to stop sweating and act like a functional human being.

And honestly? Jean wasn’t sure what he’d do if Jeremy ever did look at him up close. He could barely handle the man from across the room. Jeremy’s freckles should’ve been illegal. His smile should’ve come with a warning label.

Jean watched the lingering guy pull back with a disappointed little nod. Jeremy grimaced — that awkward, tiny shoulder-jerk he always did after rejecting someone. Jean tried not to look like he was smirking.

“You know,” Tanner said, “Catalina is right. You should just ask him out.”

Jean turned at the sound of his voice. He looked down at the boy staring up at him with a dimpled grin, halfway through a squat.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Eight more reps.”

Tanner let out a scandalized sputter. “I’ve already done six!”

Jean clenched his jaw and hardened his gaze, and Tanner quickly looked away as he went back down for another squat. Jean counted as he did three more before glancing back to the more important topic, only for his gaze to meet Jeremy’s directly. Full-on eye contact. Jean’s heart attempted to escape his chest through brute force. He jerked his gaze down so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, pretending to be very invested in adjusting the machine’s weights.

He was incredibly glad that was when Tanner finished his set, and he moved to add more weights on the machine, eyes burning as he tried not to look Jeremy’s way. When Tanner was once again on his sixth repetition, Jean glanced back toward the studio door, shoulders dropping in disappointment as he saw it closed shut and the lights inside turned off. Tanner grunted something loud and miserable. Jean leaned over to help him up, his own sigh long and dramatic and entirely deserved.

2. Neil

Jean was actually going to kill everybody in this room and then himself, because what the fuck was Jeremy wearing?

He had been minding his own business, focusing on his Tuesday-evening workout, and totally coincidentally (not at all) Jeremy was starting his class right across the gym with that usual bright, blinding smile. Jean scrubbed a hand down his face as a group of women in matching outfits approached the studio door, loudly complimenting Jeremy’s clothes like they weren’t committing a hate crime against Jean’s sanity.

Jean leveled a stare at the man on the bench beside him until the guy jerked, startled, and ripped his gaze off Jeremy’s backside to pretend he’d been focused on his weights the whole time. It barely took the edge off. Still annoyed, Jean cursed him under his breath and glanced back to Jeremy, now caught in a cheerful group hug with his class. Jeremy was wearing a pastel pink one-piece, with matching pink leg warmers, and tiny white hairpins pulling back the shorter strands of hair from his forehead.

The one-piece was backless. Backless. Low enough to stop right before Jeremy’s ass and then dipping in a way specifically engineered to ruin Jean’s entire life. His stomach twisted. His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching it. He could already feel the migraine blooming as he forced himself to finish his bicep curls.

Jeremy had to have just finished practicing his exercises for today, as sweat was glistening on his back, or maybe that was just a natural shine on his skin that was there purely to torture Jean. He had to look up at the ceiling for a second just to keep himself from making a noise that would get him banned from the premises. He shut his eyes, legs shaking, warmth rushing down his body like betrayal.

“You’re pathetic, man.”

Jean opened his eyes, disappointed to see Neil instead of a ghost come to take him out of his misery. Neil grinned down at him, two teenagers trailing behind him like ducklings. They stared at Jean’s arms in barely hidden awe and admiration.

Jean huffed and set down the ninety-pound dumbbells. “Scatter, little rat,” he scowled.

Neil’s grin widened. He turned toward the studio just as Jeremy burst into laughter with the last two women entering class. And because Neil was the actual devil, he lifted his hand and called out Jeremy’s name.

Jean jolted when Jeremy looked over. His smile somehow grew even brighter as he waved — at Neil, sure, but then his eyes drifted to Jean. The smile gentled instantly, warming in a way that hit Jean right in the ribs, and he kept waving a little too enthusiastically.

Jean went still. Blinked once. Maybe twice. He wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing.

Jeremy looked away first, giving Neil one last smile before closing the door behind him.

“And who was that?” one of the boys asked.

Jean turned a slow, murderous scowl on him and the kid recoiled like he’d been struck. Neil burst out laughing behind them.

“For your own wellbeing,” Neil said, pointing his thumb at Jean, “and so you still have legs to visit this gym, don’t ask that ever again.”

The boys nodded rapidly.

Jean didn’t bother correcting him. If anything, the statement felt embarrassingly true.

He picked up his weights again, officially done with the conversation. Neil and the boys started toward the stairs, but before he disappeared, Neil turned and said in French, “Just do something already. Earn me some money.”

Jean spat back, “Mind your business, rodent. And stop betting on me.”

With a crooked grin, Neil pressed two fingers to his temple in a mock salute and headed upstairs.

Jean glared at the man on the next bench over, who had absolutely been eavesdropping, until the guy panicked and stared firmly at the floor. Jean sighed and moved into his next set.

He performed terribly. The image of Jeremy waving at him while wearing that offensive, horrible, absolutely abominable outfit was burned onto the inside of his skull. He lasted one miserable set before fleeing to the bathroom to suffer privately.

3. Cody and Derek

“I can’t believe she said that to you,” Cody breathed, still laughing.

Jean glared at them, arms crossed, waiting for Cody to stop wheezing through their giggles. They had just finished teaching their usual afternoon yoga class, and Jean had already waited twenty whole minutes as Cody chatted excitedly with half their students. Once they were finally alone, Jean told them about the older lady he’d been helping for the past hour. She’d been sweet and patient, never complaining when she messed up or when Jean corrected her a little too sharply.

Everything had gone smoothly until the last twenty minutes, when her comments started shifting—first playful, then flirtatious, until they became… blatant. By the end of the session she had asked Jean if he offered private training at home. Jean had politely declined and immediately signed her over to Cat for her next appointment.

When Cody finally calmed down, it was only to punch Jean’s arm with a wide grin. “Well, you cannot be surprised.”

Jean shrugged their hand off and scoffed, staring at the rolled-up mats in the corner like they were suddenly fascinating.

“Jean, half of this gym is in love with you, and possibly eighty percent wants to fuck you,” Cody said, making a wobbly so-so motion with their hand.

“You need to stop gossiping with Cat and Ananya,” Jean muttered, still refusing to look at them.

Cody rolled their eyes and tapped a pointed finger to Jean’s chest. “The sooner you admit you’re hot, the sooner you’ll get the confidence to ask Jeremy out.”

Jean jolted, scowling, and grabbed Cody’s hand quickly. “Shut up, or I’ll throw you across the room.”

Cody immediately grinned salaciously, eyes half-lidded, mouth curling into a smirk. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Jean didn’t get the chance to choke out a retort, because someone coughed loudly. He frowned at the noise and turned to find Jeremy standing in the open doorway.

Jeremy looked flushed, but not from exertion. His hair was still dripping from a shower, and his skin glowed with what Jean assumed was sunscreen or moisturizer. He wore a matching burgundy long-sleeved shirt and fleece joggers, and Jean felt a confusing mix of disappointment and relief at the lack of shorts. He looked, as always, beautiful, but for the first time since Jean had met him, an awkward smile tugged at Jeremy’s lips as he looked at him.

Jean immediately jerked away from Cody, pulling back the hand that was still wrapped around Cody’s finger. He coughed into it, staring hard at the floor as if he could will it to swallow him.

Cody, of course, was unbothered. They broke into a bright smile and waved. “Oh! Hello, Jeremy. What are you doing here so early?”

Jeremy’s grimace softened. He pursed his lips and looked down, fingers fidgeting. The nervous expression made Jean glance at him in surprise, only for Jeremy to quickly avert his gaze.

“I was planning to practice a new routine before my class,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry if I interrupted.” He glanced between Cody and Jean, then looked away again. Jean frowned at how unsettled he seemed.

Cody let out a surprised sound before laughing and waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, no, no. Jean was just telling me a story.”

Jeremy hummed, and the room went quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Well, I can come back in a few minu—”

“I was just leaving, actually,” Jean blurted.

Jeremy’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. Jean managed to meet them for a single, devastating second before the heat was too much, and he tore his gaze away—straight into Cody’s smug, knowing smirk.

“I’ll be working out on the second floor,” Jean added stiffly. “If you want to join.”

He grabbed his duffel bag, making a beeline for the door without waiting for a reply. He looked at Jeremy only briefly as he passed and Jeremy was staring at him, frowning slightly. Jean’s chest tightened. He tore his gaze away again, escaping from the room in five long strides.

His shoulder brushed Jeremy’s as he slipped past, and Jean swore static shot through his entire body. His shoulder stayed hot as he sped through the lifting area. He ignored Derek calling his name from a bench and took the stairs two at a time, desperate to outrun both embarrassment and whatever the hell that moment had been.

For thirty straight minutes, he punished his legs, lungs burning, sweat stinging his eyes. But no amount of speed could scrub away the image of Jeremy standing in the doorway, flushed and beautiful, looking at him like he was—

No. He wasn’t going to think about that.

It was only when his exhausted body finally forced him to slow down that he realized the worst part: He hadn’t said a single word to Jeremy.

Not one. Again.

Jean swore loudly over the hum of the machine and dropped his forehead against the treadmill bar. Sweat dripped onto the still-speeding belt, blurring into streaks as it whipped past. He stared blankly at it, breathing hard, brain buzzing with curses and regrets and questions he didn’t have the courage to answer.

Eventually, he sighed, hit the stop button, wiped the machine down, and slung his bag over his shoulder to head back downstairs. Derek had gone somewhere. The lifting area was blessedly quiet, with only a woman on the Smith machine, steadily repping an impressive amount of weight. Jean gave her a small acknowledging nod when she looked his way. She nodded back, unfazed, and Jean sat on a bench with a heavy exhale.

He scrubbed both hands over his head in frustration before lying back under the bar for his warm-up. The ceiling above him was speckled with faint marks from years of weights and dust from the upper floor, and Jean stared at it as if it might have answers. He still couldn’t piece together why Jeremy had seemed so… off. Awkward. Nervous. Like he was the one caught doing something he shouldn’t.

By the time Jean was wheezing through his second set, he finally managed to shove Jeremy out of his head. The weights demanded all his focus. He stood, loaded forty more pounds, cracked his neck, and set himself beneath the bar again, grounding himself in the familiar burn of effort.

Derek had appeared a few benches away, and when he glanced over questioningly, Jean held up a thumbs-up and shook his head — no lift-off needed. Derek nodded but kept half an eye out anyway, the way he always did when someone attempted something heavy.

Jean huffed a laugh, braced himself, and gripped the bar.

Six clean reps at 350. The kind of weight that made his chest scream, muscles tremble, and his vision go spotty for a second. He slammed the bar back into its rack and let out a deep, satisfied groan. Somewhere to his side, Derek cheered, and Jean sank deeper into the bench, eyes closing as he tried to catch his breath.

“Impressive.”

Jean’s eyes flew open.

Jeremy stood beside him, sweaty, glowing, smiling. Breathless in the prettiest way a human had any right to be.

Jean shot upright, chest still heaving, though he knew at this point it had nothing to do with lifting.

He stared, shocked silent. Jeremy gave a small, breathy laugh at whatever disaster of an expression Jean was wearing. His hair was damp, sticking to his temples, his cheeks flushed from exertion, and his shirt clinging to his body.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime,” Jeremy said, voice light but threaded with something warm.

Jean blinked, but whatever thought he’d been forming dissolved instantly. His mind just… shorted out, refusing to reconnect to his mouth. Jeremy’s grin only widened at the reaction, bright and teasing, his eyes catching the light with a spark Jean couldn’t even begin to decipher.

And then Jeremy lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face.

Jean’s gaze snapped downward — glistening abs, defined lines, a faint trail disappearing beneath the waistband of his joggers — and then snapped back up just as fast when the fabric fell again.

“Sure. Whenever. Yeah,” he blurted, fingers digging hard into the bench.

Jeremy’s grin sharpened into an unmistakable smirk.

Jean felt the burn rush from his ears down his chest.

Jeremy laughed, the sound soft and low, before tilting his head, eyes roaming slowly and blatantly down Jean’s chest, his arms, his thighs, and back up. The warmth in that look was so clear, so deliberate, that Jean forgot how to breathe for a second.

“And I was going to ask if you knew where Cody went.”

Jean lifted a hand and pointed mutely toward the locker room, eyes never leaving Jeremy’s.

Jeremy’s smile brightened fully — the brilliant, sun-soft one that always melted Jean from the inside out. Relief washed through Jean, tangled with something hotter, something dangerously hopeful.

“Thanks,” Jeremy said, voice softer now, almost fond. He stepped toward the locker room, throwing a gentle, “See you later,” over his shoulder.

They didn’t stop looking at each other until the moment Jeremy pushed open the door. Jeremy lifted a hand in a small wave. Jean blinked, nodded too late, and then Jeremy disappeared inside.

As soon as the door shut, Jean let himself fall back, dropping his head against the bench. He groaned loudly and squeezed the sides until his hands hurt. He was cursing out-loud in French when a pair of feet appeared beside him.

Jean stared at them for a beat, then slowly turned his head to rest his cheek on the bench, looking up at Derek with an empty, ruined expression.

Derek stared back, wide-eyed, phone in hand and the group chat unmistakably glowing on the screen. A disbelieving smile spread across his face, too slow and too delighted to be kind.

Then he burst into laughter.

“Man,” Derek wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye, “you are so fucked.”

4. Laila, Xavier, and Derrick

It was a chillier day today. Jean had complained the entire ride to the gym, the morning breeze only made worse by the speed at which he rode the motorcycle. He slid into his usual spot and glanced around the mostly empty parking lot. There were plenty of reasons he preferred Sundays, but this one topped the list. Nothing beat the quiet, spacious, blissfully peaceful hours of a Sunday-morning gym.

He was unclasping his helmet when a loud honk split the air and a small car skidded into the space beside him. Jean snapped his neck, startled, and found Laila grinning at him over her driver-side window. She honked again for dramatic effect before stepping out. Jean rolled his eyes.

He glanced at the passenger seat, humming in surprise when he saw it empty.

“Wife is visiting her parents,” Laila said, catching his look. She was smiling over the rim of a large travel mug, the steam drifting up around her face. Her hair was braided into two long ponytails that fell neatly over her oversized pink sweatshirt.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be here?” he asked as he headed toward the entrance. Laila fell into step beside him.

She snorted into her coffee. “Believe me, I am here against my own will.”

Jean frowned, slowing, ready to ask what she meant—but he never got the chance.

He walked through the door and immediately stopped. Laila was already stepping into the open arms of a perfectly awake and maddeningly cheerful Jeremy. Jean blinked. He had never run into Jeremy during his usual Sunday morning workouts. Sundays were supposed to be his day—his routine, his alone time, his space to think. And he needed the space this week. He had spent the last two days circling around their strange interaction on Friday, still unsure what to do with the knowledge that Jeremy was, at the very least, a little bit attracted to him.

Apparently the universe had other plans, because the main star of his stressed thoughts (and the reason for multiple freezing showers) was now smiling at him over Laila’s shoulder.

“Hello, Jean. Hope you don’t mind us invading your morning spot.” Jeremy flashed him a bright smile.

Jean passed his card through the speed gates and stopped at a respectful distance away from the pair.

“It is okay,” he said, trying his very best to hold eye contact. He did not want to be rude again. It was embarrassing every single time, and the last thing he wanted was for Jeremy to think he disliked him.

As soon as he spoke, Jeremy’s eyes widened in a way that made Jean’s stomach flip, and then the smile returned—bigger, brighter, far too cheerful for this early in the morning. Too disarming. Jean had to look away for a breath.

When he finally looked back, Jeremy was looking down as Laila turned in his arms. Only then did Jean take in what he was wearing: a white mesh shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the abs that had haunted Jean’s sleep for two nights straight, and matching blue mesh shorts with white accents.

Jean dragged his gaze back up at the sound of Laila’s voice.

“If my hair gets messed up after cardio,” she warned Jeremy, jabbing a finger at him, “I will throw a protein shake at your pretty face.”

“Oh, you think I’m pretty?” Jeremy batted his eyelashes down at her. Jean did not understand how Laila was still standing after such a display. The woman only rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated, before she suddenly looked up at Jean. A slow smirk unfurled across her face as she glanced back at Jeremy’s now confused expression.

“The prettiest,” she said sweetly, patting his cheek twice. Then she turned back to Jean. “Don’t you agree, Jean?”

Jeremy let out a loud, offended exclamation. Jean blinked, startled, and coughed into his hand. He remembered, belatedly, his vow not to act rude toward Jeremy again and lowered his hand quickly. He straightened his face into something serious, something neutral, and looked at them.

Jeremy was tugging one of Laila’s ponytails with a murderous glare, while Laila grinned like a goblin and yanked at his left ear. They froze mid-battle the moment Jean spoke.

“Yes,” he said simply, giving a small nod.

Jeremy stared at him in pure shock for several seconds before a bright, blooming blush spread across his cheeks. Laila’s grin widened with delight.

“I will be going now,” Jean added quickly, voice dropping to something almost a whisper as nerves tightened his throat. “Enjoy your workout.”

He walked past them, ignoring Laila’s triumphant, “Oh, we will,” and Jeremy’s definitely-not-quiet-enough, “Oh my God.”

Jean was relieved to distract himself with Derrick and Xavier loudly arguing about who had the higher PR on tricep extensions. He rubbed Xavier’s head as he walked by, effortlessly dodging the hand that swung at him in retaliation. Still, a rush shot through him every time he remembered Jeremy’s flustered face. There was an immense, petty satisfaction in seeing the man blush after what he’d put Jean through on Friday.

Unfortunately, the satisfaction, and his peace, didn’t last long.

Twenty minutes later, he saw Jeremy coming down the stairs through the mirror’s reflection. Jean glanced over just long enough to see him greet Derrick and Xavier, and then forced his attention back to the last rep of his barbell squat. He bent deeply, stood, and adjusted the machine so he could step out.

Jeremy finished talking to the others and walked a few steps toward him, stopping right in front of the squat rack.

“Is there any chance we can rotate?” he asked, tilting his head, breath still heavy from whatever he’d been doing upstairs. The freckles on his cheeks looked louder than usual, enhanced by the flush of exertion.

Jean nodded mutely and stepped aside. Jeremy smiled at him again, too easy and too warm as always, and Jean hurried to remove a few plates. He only stopped when Jeremy nodded.

He backed away, pretending to focus on grabbing his water bottle, but the distraction was useless. Because when he looked up—

He choked.

Jeremy’s ass was right there, pushing gloriously against his mesh shorts as he dropped into an extremely low squat.

Jean coughed violently, turning away from Jeremy’s concerned glance as water dripped from his mouth onto his chin. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. When he dared to look again, Jeremy’s eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed in concentration as he finished the set.

And apparently fate had decided Jean hadn’t suffered enough, because his gaze drifted lower, following the line of Jeremy’s back down to the curve of his pumped thighs and ass. The shorts had ridden up during the reps, just enough that the curve of his cheeks peeked through the bottom with every drop into another perfect squat.

Jean closed his eyes and pressed his cold water bottle against his forehead.

The machine finally clicked as Jeremy re-racked the bar. Jean opened his eyes just in time to see him take a sip from his bottle, a small smile tugging at his lips. If Jean hadn’t been too busy tracing the path of a water droplet as it rolled from Jeremy’s mouth down his throat, he might have noticed Derrick not-at-all-subtly taking a photo from a few machines back.

“How can you even do that much?” Jeremy asked as Jean busied himself with re-stacking the plates.

Jean glanced at him, then immediately back at his task, mostly because Jeremy still hadn’t fixed his bunched-up shorts.

“Practice,” he muttered.

Jeremy snorted, shaking his head with a soft smile that Jean unfortunately fully caught.

“I guess that explains your legs.”

Jean froze under the bar. He looked at Jeremy with a frown, only to blush when he realized Jeremy was openly, unashamedly staring at his quads.

Jean cleared his throat, positioning himself beneath the bar. Low, but clearly enough that he knew Jeremy would hear, he said, “Speak for yourself.”

He didn’t wait to see Jeremy’s reaction. He immediately bent into his first rep, pushing hard enough to briefly forget that Jeremy was standing right there. That didn’t last long. Jeremy stepped in as soon as Jean finished, helping him re-rack the bar.

Jean blinked spots out of his vision until Jeremy’s face came into focus, far too close. Close enough that Jean could smell mint on his breath. Jeremy was smiling, that single dimple curving his mouth like a hook tugging at Jean’s spine. And his gaze… his gaze was fixed on Jean’s mouth.

Jean inhaled sharply and ducked out from under the bar, sidestepping to remove some of the plates. He kept his face down, kept his hands busy, kept his eyes anywhere but on the man who had just looked at his mouth like that.

Unfortunately, reality didn’t care about Jean’s attempts at self-preservation, because Jeremy had insisted on more weight this time, and now he was making noises. Noises that made Jean consider grabbing the fifty-pound plate beside him and knocking himself unconscious.

It was already torture to have Jeremy’s shorts riding up again, offering Jean a nearly unobstructed view of half his ass every time he dropped into a squat. But now? Now he had a soundtrack. Jeremy letting out low, breathy groans under exertion that sounded dangerously close to something else entirely.

Jean squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tightening so hard it clicked. He forced himself to think of literally anything except bending Jeremy over the nearest wall. Puppies. Neil. Abby’s floral curtains. Anything.

When he finally opened his eyes, Jeremy was panting, leaning his forehead against the machine. Sweat curled the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. The blush on his cheeks had spread down his throat, blooming across his collarbones.

Jean let out a slow, strangled sigh and cracked his neck dramatically, using the motion as an excuse to look away just as Jeremy squatted again to stretch out his legs.

With the restraint of twenty well-trained horses, Jean reached for the bar instead of Jeremy’s waist and finished his last set. He was only human, though, and when he stacked more weight for Jeremy again, he backed away to stand beside an amused, resting Xavier.

Xavier raised an eyebrow that said, You good?

Jean ignored it.

He launched into complaining about Kevin’s newest trainer plan, words pouring out of him in frantic nonsense, as Jeremy groaned and moaned through his set behind them. It was a miracle he didn’t combust. After a few minutes of meaningless rambling he didn’t hear himself say, and not a single word of Xavier’s responses absorbed into his brain, Jean turned around.

Just in time to see Jeremy eyeing the dumbbells in contemplation.

But not just Jeremy. A man a few steps away was approaching with a purposeful gleam in his eye, one Jean recognized instantly and hated even faster.

Jean frowned. His jaw hurt faintly from how fast he clenched it.

Before the man could open his mouth, Jean was already striding toward them, intercepting without a second thought.

“Start with the twenties,” he said firmly, lifting the dumbbells before the stranger could even gesture at helping.

Jeremy blinked up at him, then smiled, soft and warm in a way that hit Jean directly in his belly. He didn’t seem to notice the other man’s disappointed scowl behind him. Jean nodded, stepping back a bit. Relief, and something shamefully triumphant, flooded him when Jeremy followed.

He passed him the weights, and their fingers brushed lightly. Barely. But Jean felt it everywhere.

Jeremy looked at him with that soft smile again, like Jean had handed him a puppy instead of metal.

“Three sets of twelve,” Jean said, voice lower than intended. “Add five pounds each set.”

Jeremy nodded, glancing down at the other dumbbells, and Jean took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder. The other man was still lingering.

Jean glared at him until the man huffed and turned around. He erased the smug smile off his face just in time for Jeremy to look back up.

“And at least thirty seconds between breaks,” Jean added quickly.

Jeremy huffed a quiet laugh. Then his eyelashes fluttered in that same slow, devastating way he’d done to Laila earlier.

Jean felt his knees falter.

Jeremy shifted to face the mirror but kept his gaze slanted toward Jean, lids heavy with a look Jean had no business being on the receiving end of. He lowered his voice, the words curling at the edges as he murmured, “Yes, sir.”

And there was no universe in which he didn’t know exactly how that sounded.

Jean’s brain stopped working. Every blink he managed only made Jeremy’s smile grow until it looked like he was seconds from laughing outright.

Jean nodded mutely, uselessly, and backed up to the bench behind him before he could faint on the floor. He closed his eyes, praying for his blood to stop rushing south at a speed that couldn’t be medically safe.

Of course, life hated him.

Because when he opened his eyes again, Jeremy was bending into his Romanian deadlifts—ass arched, perfect, and directly in Jean’s line of sight.

Jean cursed under his breath and shot to his feet, nearly tripping over himself.

“I’m going to get water,” he blurted.

In French.

He didn’t even realize it until he was leaning over the bathroom sink, head resting heavily in his arms, breathing like he’d run a marathon. Only then did he remember he’d left his mostly-full water bottle right in front of Jeremy.

By the time Jeremy finished his workout, Jean felt borderline feverish, his skin too warm and his eyes burning from the effort of staring at literally anything that wasn’t the man beside him—an enticing, teasing dream that had absolutely no business existing in a public gym. Jeremy had chosen to end his routine with leg presses, and for all the discipline Jean had put into not looking, the universe had rewarded him with failure; because of course Jeremy caught him.

Jean had glanced up for one second and found Jeremy pushing through his final reps, quads pumped and straining, breath caught between his teeth as he grunted into the last set. Jeremy’s gaze had flicked up mid-press, landing directly on Jean with a smug little smile that made Jean’s heartbeat stutter painfully. Jean had immediately snapped his eyes away and pretended his deadlifts were the single most urgent task he’d ever undertaken.

He’d gotten, at most, a few minutes of peace. Jeremy wandered off to chat with Xavier, leaving Jean to collapse onto a bench with a low groan as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He stared at the floor between his feet, exhaling deeply—almost grateful—because somehow, miraculously, he’d survived the last hour and a half without combusting.

Peace. Bliss. A full ninety seconds of freedom.

Until it ended.

“Let’s go to the studio and stretch,” came a soft voice behind him.

Jean blinked up at Jeremy, who wore a grin so sweet Jean briefly contemplated homicide. Or arson. Something cathartic. Jeremy chuckled at his deadpan expression, as if he had no idea how dangerously close Jean was to spontaneous combustion.

“Come on,” Jeremy nudged, poking his arm. “You’ll thank me later.”

Jean swallowed down the curses bubbling in his chest and nodded stiffly, because arguing would require words, and words felt dangerous. He stood and promptly forgot how close Jeremy was. The sudden proximity stole a breath out of him, but he forced his face into a controlled, neutral mask as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Jeremy’s playful smile faltered, replaced with a soft, startled blush that crept across his cheeks. Jean ignored the dark, smug satisfaction curling through his stomach at that look.

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping away before he did something incredibly stupid.

He knew he’d made a mistake from the second the door shut behind them with a sharp metallic clank. The quiet of the room pressed in on him, intimate and too still. He tossed his duffel to the side with unnecessary force and grabbed two mats, placing them down a distance apart so exaggerated it bordered on rude. Jeremy didn’t comment on it, only smiled at him in easy gratitude as if completely unaware of the silent meltdown Jean had been performing since dawn.

Jean diverted his gaze and started stretching, keeping his eyes tightly shut as if darkness alone could save him. He’d only reached his third stretch when he heard his name, soft and tentative, and he reluctantly turned to find Jeremy seated with his legs folded in a butterfly, looking up with a small, almost shy smile.

“Push my back?” Jeremy asked, spreading his legs into a wide V and waiting with hopeful eyes that did absolutely nothing to help Jean’s sanity.

For a few suspended seconds, Jean could only blink at him, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He eventually nodded and moved closer, hands embarrassingly unsteady at his sides. He took a deep breath, placed his palms between Jeremy’s shoulder blades, and pressed gently, guiding him down until his torso touched the floor. Jeremy exhaled a low groan at the stretch, and Jean felt the sound all the way down his spine.

“You can do it harder,” Jeremy murmured.

Jean’s eyes snapped shut as he muttered a desperate prayer to any deity listening. He pushed more firmly, easing Jeremy deeper into the stretch until the man was nearly in a split, his back arching under Jean’s palms, shirt riding up to reveal a strip of warm skin. Jeremy groaned, low and breathy, his spine bowing under the pressure. The sight hit Jean like a punch; he could feel the heat of Jeremy’s body, could see the curve of his ass lifting with the stretch, teetering dangerously close to Jean’s rapidly hardening dick.

He jerked back as if burned, hands snapping away from Jeremy’s spine. He stood too fast, almost stumbling, and retreated to his own mat like a man fleeing a crime scene. Sitting down, he stared at nothing, breathing through the riot in his chest, pretending he didn’t hear Jeremy’s muffled, cheerful “Thanks!” from the floor—Jeremy still folded in the exact position Jean had left him, like he had no idea the kind of agony he’d just inflicted.

Except Jean knew better by now.

Jeremy’s tone was bright and easy, almost harmless, but Jean had lived long enough to recognize a trap wrapped in sweetness when it looked back at him. Jeremy wasn’t oblivious.

Not even close.

5. Neil, Kevin, and Andrew

It had been a long time since stress like this had settled on him. More than a week had passed since that workout session with Jeremy. The day continued to haunt Jean in his sleep, in the middle of chores, while he trained clients, even when he tried to focus on his own sets. The image of Jeremy squatting, quads bulging, his ass perfectly rounded in those shorts, flashed behind Jean’s eyes anytime he let his mind drift for longer than three seconds.

He had barely seen Jeremy since then, their schedules refusing to overlap as Jean stacked more winter-season clients on his plate. On the rare occasions Jeremy crossed his line of sight, he waved with that huge, blinding smile. Always cheerful, friendly, completely unaware of Jean’s inner turmoil and sleepless nights.

Even from across the room, the air between them felt charged. Jean always nodded back, then immediately forced his attention on whoever he was spotting. Still, he never missed the prickling warmth on his back that lasted a few seconds longer than coincidence, right until the Pilates group started their usual chatter.

And even if they didn’t cross paths much, they still worked in the same damn gym. Which meant the universe demanded Jean witness every single one of Jeremy’s outfits: the sculpting shorts, painted-on leggings, and the themed-class leotards that had nearly ended Jean where he stood. He threw himself into extra work just to avoid looking at him which, of course, only made it worse.

He was in the middle of replaying Jeremy in Monday’s red tank top, with his nipples visible, white shorts sinfully tight, when a heavy ball smacked into his open palms with a jarring thud.

He cursed under his breath, leaned down into the decline bench, then came back up to glare at Kevin’s smug face. He hurled the medicine ball back with matching force, satisfaction curling in his chest when Kevin’s arms shook from the catch.

“Earth to Jean,” Neil sing-songed, effortlessly catching Kevin’s toss. Jean didn’t even look at him as he caught Andrew’s next throw.

Neil smirked. “Would be embarrassing to go to the ER because you were daydreaming about someone.”

Jean threw the ball at him harder just for that. Neil only laughed, leaning back with the ball clutched to his chest. This whole thing had been his idea, a four-person decline sit-ups with a constant medicine-ball rotation. Jean, desperate for anything to occupy his racing mind, had agreed before thinking twice. Now he was stuck with a teasing Kevin and Neil, and a silent but observant Andrew, all doing whatever military-conditioning ab circuit Neil had dreamed up.

They’d been going at it for minutes already, Kevin and Neil still riding the high of the photo Derrick had sent, the one of Jean frozen mid-stare as Jeremy drank water, mouth open like an idiot.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen you pass out while spotting Andrew,” Jean snapped.

“Don’t change the topic, Jean-Yves.” Kevin caught Andrew’s throw, barely, and grunted. “When are you going to do something about this?”

Jean rolled his eyes, catching Andrew’s pass and sending it to Kevin. His jaw ticked as he muttered, “I don’t know how to do it.”

Kevin turned, almost missing his next catch. He stumbled, flushed, then pretended it didn’t happen as Andrew smirked at him. “Do what?”

“Ask him out,” Jean said flatly.

To Jean’s horror, Neil straightened like a meerkat, eyes lighting up with the promise of entertainment. “Oh? If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you actually want something serious.”

Jean said nothing.

Neil burst into delighted laughter. Kevin blinked, surprised.

Neil nudged Kevin with his knee. “You hear that? Our favorite French cryptid has feelings.”

“I didn’t think he had a romantic bone in his body,” Kevin said dryly, catching Andrew’s throw with a grunt. “Just… rage and judgment.”

Jean threw him a look sharp enough to cut steel. Neil only grinned wide beside him.

Kevin wiped sweat off his forehead. “You literally train people for a living. Use your words, Jean. Say ‘hello.’ Say ‘do you want coffee.’ Say ‘your shorts are illegal, please wear more of them.’ Anything.”

“Kevin,” Neil said seriously, “he’d combust before he got past ‘hello.’”

Jean scoffed. “I do not—”

“Oh shut up,” Neil cut in. “You turned the color of my hair the last time Jeremy asked if you needed the cable machine.”

“And you tripped over nothing,” Kevin added.

“You two are insufferable,” Jean muttered.

“You’re in love,” Neil sing-songed.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s fair,” Neil said cheerfully. “But after you ask him out. We have suffered enough watching you pine.”

“Honestly,” Kevin agreed. “It’s pathetic.”

“Painful,” Neil emphasized.

“Embarrassing,” Kevin echoed.

Jean bared his teeth in a smile. “I will throw this ball at your faces.”

Kevin sighed dramatically. “Jeremy is literally the easiest person alive to flirt with. He’d say yes if you invited him to look at paint samples.”

“Or if you asked him to help you carry something,” Neil added. “Or breathe near him. Actually, that might be enough.”

Jean snapped. “He is my coworker. I do not want to make it weird.”

Neil blinked at him, huffing in amusement. “Jean. You make everything weird.”

Jean’s eye twitched. The ball in his hands suddenly felt very, very useful. Jean hurled the ball at Neil’s face with enough force to finally shut him up. The satisfying thwack was followed by Neil’s graceless stumble backward, the incline bench rattling under his weight as he let out a strangled groan. The ball bounced out of his hands and rolled somewhere under the machines.

“Jean!” Kevin barked, shooting him a glare before scrambling off the bench to retrieve it. Neil was still wheezing, one hand pressed to the small of his back like he’d aged forty years in three seconds. Jean only smiled, sharp and absolutely unapologetic.

He turned his attention to Andrew, who watched the chaos with his usual quiet detachment, idly rolling the remaining medicine ball between his palms. Jean studied him for a moment, the unspoken question forming thickly in his throat. Andrew dealt with Neil every day and somehow remained sane; surely he could handle one more panicking man.

Jean opened his mouth, but Andrew beat him to it. He looked over, expression unreadable, the ball stilled in his hands.

“Ask him,” Andrew said, voice flat and certain. “Before you regret not ever doing it.”

And so Jean found himself standing outside the studio, wringing his hands nervously as he tried to breathe past the panic climbing his throat. He checked his watch. There were twenty minutes before Jeremy’s class, enough time to chicken out twelve different ways. He shut his eyes, inhaled slowly, and grabbed the door handle before he could talk himself out of it.

The room was quiet except for the faint sound leaking from Jeremy’s wired earbuds. He was in the far corner, stretching in a butterfly pose, phone propped beside him. His foot bobbed along to whatever he was listening to, hips rolling slightly as he loosened up. When Jean slipped inside and shut the door, Jeremy startled, then brightened immediately when he saw who it was.

“Hey, Jean.” His voice was warm, unguarded.

Jean swallowed, hard. Jeremy’s eyes dragged, just for a beat, over his arms before darting quickly back up. If Jean hadn’t been staring so intently, he might’ve missed it entirely. He was suddenly glad he decided to wear a tank that day, and the spark of satisfaction was small, but real. And far too quickly smothered by the reason he’d come.

He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to stare at Jeremy’s stretched-out legs or the smooth lines of his shoulders. “Hello. Um—”

He stopped, jaw flexing as he forced himself to inhale again. Jeremy simply watched him, smile gentle, waiting patiently as if this wasn’t the most humiliating thing Jean had done in years.

Jean tried again, quieter. “I was just wondering if—”

The door flew open with a slam, cutting him clean off. A group of women spilled in, laughing loudly, bags clattering. Jean’s shoulders sagged, the breath leaving him in a quiet, defeated exhale. Of course.

He shook his head, already turning away, already berating himself for thinking this would go any other way—

And then Jeremy was suddenly right in front of him.

He moved faster than Jean had ever seen him, reaching out to grab Jean’s arm before he could slip out the door. Jeremy’s cheeks were flushed from stretching, eyebrows drawn together, eyes wide with something that looked very close to panic. Or desperation.

“Please,” he said, voice low and unsteady. “Come back after class.”

Jean stared at him. At the earnestness in his eyes. At the way his fingers curled slightly against Jean’s arm, like he was afraid he might actually leave.

Something in Jean went unbearably soft.

He nodded once, unable to speak, unable to do anything except meet those warm brown eyes that seemed to strip every coherent thought out of his skull. Then he stepped away, pulling the door open, and ignoring the curious looks from the women inside the room. He walked out into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and stood there for a long moment, breath caught high in his chest.

An hour later, he was right back outside the studio, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tight over his chest. His foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floor, the nerves in him wound tight enough to hum. The bones in his neck cracked when he jerked his head up, far too quickly, as the door finally opened.

The class trickled out in clusters, each person looking him over with not-at-all subtle curiosity. Whispered commentary floated through the hall, none of it quiet enough to ignore. Jean tried to purse his lips into something that wasn’t a grimace. He failed.

Eventually, one of the women walked out and stopped dead in front of him. She looked him up and down, openly impressed. “So you’re why our Jeremy was red the entire class.”

She didn’t get the chance to elaborate. Jeremy appeared behind her with lightning speed, cheeks flushed, voice half an octave too high as he sputtered, “That’s enough, Amanda.”

Amanda blew him a shameless kiss and patted his cheek on her way out. Jeremy’s ears went cherry-red, and Jean had to physically stop himself from reaching out to touch them, a ridiculous surge of fondness washing through him.

Amanda walked off with a wink tossed over her shoulder, Jeremy giving her his best playful glare. He shook his head, then turned back to Jean, clearing his throat. He stepped aside from the doorway, tilting his head in a silent invitation.

Jean froze. For a heartbeat, he simply looked at him, memorizing the warmth in Jeremy’s eyes, just in case this was the last time he saw it directed at him.

He stepped inside.

Jeremy closed the door behind them with a soft click, then opened his mouth to speak. “So what were you trying to sa—”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

The words shot out of Jean’s mouth like someone had cut the wire holding them back. He didn’t even have time to be mortified before he realized what he’d said. He turned slowly toward Jeremy, dread pooling in his stomach.

Jeremy blinked at him. Once. Twice. Completely stunned.

Jean felt the grimace forming, nails biting hard into his palms. He opened his mouth to apologize at the exact moment Jeremy said, steady and sure: “Yes.”

Jean went still.

He stared at the grin blooming across Jeremy’s lips, wide and bright enough to knock the breath out of him. Jeremy always looked good. He always glowed. But right now he looked unreal, too warm, too beautiful to be standing here saying yes to someone like Jean. Jean felt something in him tilt, like Jeremy wasn’t fully real, just something beautiful he’d imagined on a bad day and accidentally kept.

The word kept replaying in his ears, yes, but Jeremy was already talking again, head tilted thoughtfully. “So? What are we doing?”

Jean opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, before he finally managed, “I… did not think I’d get this far.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up and then he laughed, soft and surprised. He crossed his arms, shrugging easily, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re a good cook.”

That was definitely Cat’s fault. Jean would murder her later. For now, he could barely function under the heat of Jeremy’s gaze.

“I’ll cook you anything you want,” he blurted, meaning every word and barely aware he’d said them.

His brain was a jumble of buzzing wires at this point, his mouth running on autopilot. And then Jeremy stepped closer, hands sliding onto Jean’s shoulders, and the buzzing became full-blown static.

“Friday night, then.”

Jean held his breath as Jeremy leaned up on his toes, lips brushing his cheek in the gentlest kiss imaginable. His skin lit up like someone had struck a match there.

Leaning back, Jeremy kept talking, and Jean tried, really tried, to listen through the rushing in his ears. “I have a private class now. And I know you have my number, even if you’ve never used it.” His smile turned teasing. “Text me your address.”

Jean could only blink, rooted to the floor, watching Jeremy pick up his bag and head toward the door. He threw one final wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

Silence filled the room as the door swung shut, broken only by the distant clatter of weights from the next room and the thunder of Jean’s own heartbeat. His cheek still tingled, the ghost of where Jeremy’s lips had been burning like a fresh tattoo.

+1. Jeremy

There was no cheese left. There was no cheese left and Jean was two seconds away from trashing his whole apartment in agony. He pursed his lips, frowning down at the cheese-less sauce. He huffed, annoyed beyond measure, and added the last bit of salt and pepper, trying and failing to pretend everything was fine.

That was when the doorbell rang.

Jean jolted so hard he nearly threw the spoon. He shoved the kitchen towel quickly into a random cabinet and ran his hands down his button-up, smoothing out any lines created in the final minutes while he finished cooking. He stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened the door. On the other side was Jeremy, smiling as always.

Jean gave him a quick once-over, heat curling low in his stomach as his eyes dragged over the sheer light-blue top. It was long-sleeved and cinched at the waist, the kind of thing clearly designed to flatter Jeremy’s body and absolutely ruin Jean’s day. The dark jeans didn’t help either, tight enough that Jean could swear he saw the muscles in Jeremy’s thighs shift with every tiny movement.

When he finally looked back up, Jeremy was already watching him, cheeks faintly pink, standing there like he was perfectly fine with being stared at. Maybe even waiting for it.

Jean hummed under his breath, warmth curling low in his stomach. He stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Welcome.”

Jeremy walked in with slow, deliberate steps, stopping just in front of him. Then he leaned up and gave him a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek, similar to the one from three days ago that Jean still traced with his fingers. Jean melted instantly, another quiet hum slipping out.

Jeremy pulled back just enough to lift the items in his hands. “I brought wine.”

Jean quirked a brow, looking at his other hand. “And flowers.”

Jeremy flushed even darker, glancing down at the bundle of sunflowers. “Something to decorate the table.”

Jean smiled — an honest, helpless thing — and took Jeremy’s jacket to hang it up. As he did, he sensed Jeremy move behind him, and when he turned, he found the man staring wide-eyed at the table set between the kitchen and the living room.

Jean’s apartment wasn’t cheap, actually far from it. A penthouse funded by the salary he pulled from working at one of the best gyms in LA, plus the parade of sponsorships that kept his bank account comfortably bloated. He had plenty of options for dinner spots, too, but even though he usually ate hunched over the kitchen island like a gremlin, he’d gone ahead and set the dark wooden dining table for tonight.

After asking Jeremy what he’d want for dinner and receiving a simple answer of meat and sweet potato fries, Jean had spent two full days searching for recipes that he actually found appealing and stores that had the highest quality-ingredients. He’d been successful in getting the presentation right, at least, because Jeremy was staring in awe at the spread on the table.

Maybe he’d gone slightly overboard with the fancy cheeses and cured meats for the appetizer, but the three sauces for the fries looked great, even if he was still silently mourning the missing cheese.

He left Jeremy admiring the spread as the thermometer beeped. Jean plated the steak on a small wooden tray, arranging the browned garlic and sprigs of thyme around for decoration, then set it in the center of the table.

When he looked up, Jeremy was still staring, mouth half open.

“Should I open the wine?” Jean asked softly.

Jeremy nodded without a sound.

Their fingers brushed as Jean took the bottle, and the spark that shot up his hand made him tighten his grip on the corkscrew like his life depended on it. He focused on getting the cork out without embarrassing himself.

He pulled out the chair, and Jeremy slipped into it with a kind of careful gentleness that made Jean’s chest tighten.

“Thank you,” Jeremy murmured at last, looking up through his lashes with a tiny, grateful smile. “This is amazing.”

Jean felt heat rise to his cheeks. He stared at his plate and motioned toward the dishes. “Please. Dig in.”

He peeked up just in time to see Jeremy taste the yogurt sauce and wiggle in his seat in sheer joy. Jean hid his laugh behind his hand, warmth blooming everywhere at once. Jeremy seemed to settle in, his earlier shyness falling away as he started asking Jean where he’d learned to cook. They talked in quiet voices, both of them instinctively gentle, as if afraid to pop the soft bubble of comfort around them. Jean had left some music playing on the stereo by the TV, but it was little more than a warm hum beneath their conversation.

Jeremy let out these little giggles and sudden bursts of laughter every now and then, the loudest sounds between them, and Jean hid a giddy smile behind his glass every single time.

“You are aware of the bet the team has had on us for a while now, right?” Jeremy asked, propping his cheek against his hand, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing to Jean.

Jean snorted into his wine. “Sadly.” He took another sip, before adding, “I wonder who won.”

He turned back toward Jeremy, catching the moment the man’s eyes darted up from somewhere around Jean’s collarbone. The faint alcohol flush on Jeremy’s nose had spread to his cheeks. Jean blinked, amused, when Jeremy cleared his throat.

“Renee won. It’s in the group chat.”

“Do these people ever use that thing for something work-related?” Jean muttered, frowning at his phone. Jeremy laughed, bright and free, and Jean immediately forgot all about the stupid group chat.

The laughter faded, and Jeremy looked down at his mostly empty plate. He worried his bottom lip, suddenly hesitant in a way that made Jean’s stomach twist. His frown deepened at the sudden change, when Jeremy had been so lively seconds ago.

“Can I ask something?” Jeremy said quietly.

Jeremy looked away, took a sip of wine for courage, then asked, “Why had you never asked me out?”

The silence that followed was thick enough to suffocate. The soft music felt louder than it should’ve, the only thing drifting through the room while Jean just stared, jaw slacked.

Jeremy still wouldn’t look at him. Beyond confused by the question, Jean tried to gather himself, because the only answer he had ready was the embarrassing truth about how wildly out of his league Jeremy was. He cleared his throat instead.

“Well… I honestly didn’t know you were interested in me that way.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve watched you reject more people than I can count on one hand, basically one from every group you teach, so I assumed dating wasn’t something you wanted right now. And even if I was clearly taken by you, I didn’t want to bother you with any more unwanted advances.” Jean pursed his lips, gently swirling the wine in his glass as he finished, waiting for whatever came next.

“Jean, I don’t think I could’ve been more upfront with my flirting than I already was.” Jean’s eyes snapped up, finding a frowning Jeremy staring directly at him. The man continued, “And I was very aware of how you looked at me, too. I just figured you didn’t find me interesting enough.”

Jean scoffed, ignoring the heat climbing his cheeks at those first two statements. “Jeremy, more than half the gym would kill to be in my place.”

“Well, you’re the one I want to be with, so what does that matter?” Jeremy shrugged, completely unaware that every word was dismantling Jean piece by piece. “And it’s worse that you never seem to notice the way people moon over you. It just makes them want to approach you even more.”

He frowned, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. And that was when Jean realized—Jeremy was jealous. Actually, genuinely jealous about whatever memory had just crossed his mind.

Jean needed that smile back immediately. He leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. “Jeremy. My only regret is that I didn’t ask sooner.”

He waited. When Jeremy finally looked back at him, Jean let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He watched Jeremy’s eyes soften as the earnestness of his words sank in.

They held each other’s gaze for a few quiet seconds before Jeremy slowly began to smile again. He rolled one shoulder and said, “At least you saved me from showing up to work with a big banner that would’ve embarrassed both of us.”

Jean huffed a laugh, shoulders finally relaxing as he leaned back. He pointed at Jeremy’s glass and said, “Time to put the wine down.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Then he suddenly yawned, stretching his arms over his head. His sheer blouse rode up with the movement, and Jean absolutely did not hide the split-second glance he took at the sliver of exposed stomach. When he looked back, Jeremy’s smile had turned into a smug little smirk, right before he winced and pressed a hand to his belly.

“I am so full. Come on, let’s wash everything and do some stretches for digestion.” He sat up, already stacking plates with quick, practiced movements.

Jean only realized what Jeremy had said after they finished the dishes. He looked up and froze.
Jeremy was standing in the middle of his living room, arms stretched straight overhead, spine cracking, letting out a relieved sigh. He turned when he noticed Jean hadn’t moved.

Jeremy tilted his head in a come on motion, and Jean’s feet moved before he registered what he was doing. He stopped in front of Jeremy, trying to look composed.

“I do most of these after class,” Jeremy said, smiling gently. “Don’t look so scared.”

Jeremy didn’t know Jean wasn’t scared of him, but of himself—of whatever restraint he’d need to dig back up after the last time he’d helped Jeremy stretch.

He watched Jeremy bend forward, effortlessly reaching his fingers, and Jean swallowed before following suit. He nodded along, listening as Jeremy explained how Cody had taught him that certain yoga poses were good for digestion and bloating.

Jean was practically on autopilot as he followed Jeremy’s instructions, which was how he ended up dropping into child’s pose, then lifting into cobra without even thinking about it.

And suddenly, Jeremy was right there. Close enough their noses brushed as they eased into the pose.

Jean’s heart pounded thunderously, loud enough he was half-convinced Jeremy could hear it too, but Jeremy seemed far more focused on smiling at him, his brown eyes warm and bright.

Then, before Jean could process the moment, Jeremy leaned in and pressed the softest, quickest kiss to his lips. So soft Jean genuinely wondered for a second if he’d imagined it. But Jeremy pulled back with a wide smile, cheeks flushed a devastating shade of pink, like he hadn’t just stolen the air straight from Jean’s lungs.

“Aaaaaand we’re done!”

Jean stared as Jeremy stood up, brushing his hands over his jeans, all while looking down at Jean with a teasing smile. Jean cleared his throat and pushed himself upright, a little unsteady. His throat was dry, his hands were shaking, and he felt strangely disconnected from his own body.

Jeremy, on the other hand, looked like a cat who’d just knocked something off a shelf on purpose. He was practically preening, his lips twitching toward a smirk.

“Actually, there was one m—”

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when Jean stepped toward him, jaw tight and something fierce burning in his eyes.

Jeremy blinked up at him, lips parting in surprise, every bit of smugness wiped clean. Jean’s hand found his waist and pulled him in with no hesitation, drawing their bodies together in a single, dizzying movement. Jeremy gasped softly, but Jean barely registered it—too focused on brushing his thumb along the tiny constellation of freckles under Jeremy’s eye.

Only when he felt Jeremy’s breath ghost against his chin did Jean’s thumb drift downward, swiping slow and deliberate across his lower lip.The answering shaky breath made him look up in a daze, his own breath catching at the expression on Jeremy’s face.

His pupils were blown wide, eyebrows pinched in something that looked devastatingly like need. When Jean’s thumb skimmed over his top lip, Jeremy’s eyes fluttered shut, and he tilted in closer like he couldn’t help himself. He opened his eyes again and parted his lips around Jean’s thumb.

“Kiss me.”

And so Jean did. He leaned in and finally did what he’d been dying to do for months. Soft lips met his in a firm, eager press, and Jean was undone instantly. A groan tore out of him as he tightened his hold on Jeremy’s waist, pulling him in until there was no space left to steal. His hand fisted in the delicate fabric of Jeremy’s blouse, pinky brushing the dimples at the small of his back. Jeremy moaned right into his mouth—high, breathy, perfect—and Jean went dizzy.

Jeremy kissed like he meant to ruin him. His hands slid into Jean’s curls, tugging sharply and pulling another moan from deep in Jean’s chest. Jean’s palms drifted lower until he was grabbing a handful of Jeremy’s ass, and Jeremy gasped. Jean chased the sound, sliding his tongue into Jeremy’s mouth, turning the kiss messy and hungry and everything he’d imagined in a hundred sleepless nights. He needed to be close. Closer than close. Close enough that nothing in the world could wedge itself between them.

They broke apart only when breathing became non-negotiable, both panting into the inch of space between them. Jean couldn’t stop staring. Jeremy was flushed a bold red, chest rising and falling, lips swollen and shining. He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way.

Then he smirked, slow and wicked, and curled a finger into Jean’s shirt collar, tugging him in until their lips brushed again. Jean leaned in instinctively, chasing him.

Jeremy leaned back with a tiny shake of his head, biting his lip like he wasn’t fully in control of his own grin. “How about you give me that tour now?”

Jean huffed a breathless laugh, raising an eyebrow. He licked his lips without thinking, and Jeremy’s gaze tracked the movement so shamelessly it sent heat straight to Jean’s stomach. He grabbed Jeremy’s hand and led them toward his bedroom with impatient strides, pushing the door shut behind them, and immediately slammed Jeremy against it.

Jeremy’s laugh was swallowed as Jean kissed him again, desperate and deep, hands sliding up to rub at his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. Jeremy moaned, dropping his head back against the door, and Jean dove for the newly exposed skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses up his throat. He was just about to leave a dark bruise at the edge of Jeremy’s jaw, something he’d dreamed of doing for months, when Jeremy’s hands pressed firmly against his chest.

Jean broke away with a startled inhale, dazed and buzzing with want. Jeremy kept pushing, step by step, until Jean’s legs hit the bed and he fell back onto it, propped on his elbows and breathless. Jeremy stood at the edge of the mattress, smirk curling wickedly over his lips, confident and absolutely devastating. Jean propped himself on his elbows as Jeremy crawled slowly up his body, every movement deliberate torture.

He leaned in and brushed his lips over Jean’s—just a soft, fleeting touch—before pulling back immediately, leaving nothing but the taste of him and the ache of wanting more. Jean glared, frustrated and undone, but Jeremy only bit his lip to hide a smile.

Finally, Jeremy leaned down and let their mouths meet in a hot, slow kiss, opening his mouth at the first brush of Jean’s tongue. Jean groaned appreciatively, licking into him hungrily with a desperation he couldn’t temper. At Jean’s insistent assault on his mouth, Jeremy melted against him, fully relaxing as Jean reached up to tug at his hair. Jeremy moaned into the kiss, and Jean tightened his hold on the golden strands in response.

Jeremy gasped when he pulled back, staring at Jean’s mouth with a dazed look. Jean felt his own lips curl into a smirk, proud of the effect he’d drawn out of him. Jeremy bent down to press a soft peck to the corner of Jean’s mouth where it had lifted, lashes fluttering beautifully as he closed his eyes before trailing more kisses down Jean’s throat.

Jean couldn’t look away, lungs burning as he refused to breathe and risk breaking the moment. Jeremy kissed his pec, the last uncovered patch of skin beneath his button-up, before reaching up to toy with the buttons, raising an eyebrow in question. Jean nodded, finally taking a breath, and scratched at the nape of his neck. Jeremy’s eyes hooded in pleasure at the touch before he leaned down to press a kiss to each inch of skin revealed with every button undone. The brush of his lips over every scar sent shivers racing across Jean’s body, leaving him feeling unsteady in a way he couldn’t hide.

Jean clenched his jaw, watching Jeremy’s tongue drag down his torso, the sight alone making him twitch visibly in his pants. Jeremy hummed, clearly noticing the movement, and brought his thumb to the button of Jean’s pants. He glanced up again, only continuing when Jean nodded once more. Jean watched Jeremy’s attention drop back to his hands, his own tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. Jean tightened the grip on his hair and Jeremy moaned before lowering himself to mouth at Jean’s bulge through his boxers.

Jean threw his head back with a groan.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Jeremy moaned.

Jean opened his eyes and looked down to see him gazing up, lip caught between his teeth as he gave Jean a long stroke. The thin fabric of Jean’s underwear only added more friction, and Jean groaned loudly, forcing himself to keep his eyes open in case this was a dream he might wake from at any second.

Jeremy seemed to preen under every noise he dragged out of him, and Jean only tsked when he noticed Jeremy’s hips grinding subtly against the edge of the bed. He tugged on a strand of Jeremy’s hair in warning, and Jeremy finally moved to pull Jean’s underwear down.

Jean groaned immediately as the head of his cock slapped against Jeremy’s cheek, leaving a shining streak of precum on his skin. Jeremy, completely unaware of the war going on inside Jean at the sight, was staring wide-eyed at his now bare cock. Jean fisted his free hand into the sheets, holding himself still and waiting for Jeremy to move first.

When Jeremy finally blinked back into awareness, he reached up to give a slow, reverent stroke to Jean’s sensitive head. Jean groaned, tugging at his hair, and Jeremy moaned in response.

“God, you’re so big.”

Jean frowned down at him, unsure whether to be proud or worried. Jeremy caught the look and chuckled, shaking his head quickly. “Oh, I mean it in the best way.”

He leaned forward, cupping Jean at the base as he dragged a long, slow lick from the bottom of his cock up to the tip. Jean bit back a moan, watching through hazy eyes as Jeremy paused just beneath the head and murmured, “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Jean immediately threw his head back, cursing loudly as Jeremy took him into his mouth. “Fuck!”

Jeremy moaned around him, and Jean gasped, stars bursting behind his eyes at the vibration against his cock. Jeremy moved with confidence, sinking down until Jean felt the squeeze of the back of his throat. Jean cursed again when Jeremy swallowed around him, one of Jeremy’s hands wrapping around the base to stroke the rest of him in slow, steady pulls.

Jean’s grip tightened sharply in Jeremy’s hair, and Jeremy finally pulled off with a gasp, immediately leaning down to lick along the vein beneath Jean’s cock. “Fuck, Jeremy.”

Jeremy hummed, reaching up to curl his fingers over Jean’s hand in his hair. He looked up through hooded eyes and guided Jean’s grip just slightly, just enough of a cue, before lowering again to take him in a second time. Jean groaned and moved on instinct, guiding Jeremy’s head up and down in slow, deliberate motions.

Jeremy kept his gaze locked on him, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes every time Jean pushed him down a little too far, his throat flexing around him with every swallow. Warmth was building low and fast, too fast, and Jean barely managed to grit his teeth before his hips bucked up into Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy moaned loudly around him, his free hand disappearing downward, moving in unmistakable strokes.

Jean growled and thrust up into his mouth three more times before rasping, “Where do you want it, baby?”

Jeremy moaned again, eyes fully watering now, tears slipping down his cheeks. He sank even further, taking every inch he could, eyelashes fluttering shut in pleasure as he let out another needy sound. Jean stared down at the sight—Jeremy stuffed full of him, tears running, throat working—and it pushed him over the edge. He came with a loud groan, the noise tearing out of him raw.

Then he heard what was the loudest Jeremy had moaned so far, the sound cutting through the buzzing in Jean’s ears. Jean fought for breath, staring down wide-eyed as Jeremy swallowed around him before finally pulling off with a wet, obscene pop. Jeremy stuck his tongue out to show it off—clean, glinting proudly—eyes half-lidded, shoulders loose with satisfaction.

He only had a second to enjoy the sight before Jean grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up. Jeremy yelped, but Jean didn’t care, he dragged him down by the chin and kissed him sloppily, eager and starving and so turned on he thought he could break apart from it.

Jeremy whimpered into his mouth, grinding against Jean’s thigh shamelessly, desperate with heat. Jean groaned at the pressure, then leaned to nip sharply at Jeremy’s earlobe in reprimand.

“Stop it.”

The man completely ignored him, grinding against his thigh in insistent motions. Jean didn’t think twice before bringing his hand down in a sharp slap to Jeremy’s ass.

The loud moan that tore out of Jeremy was probably enough for the neighbors downstairs to hear, but Jean couldn’t care less. He reached up, tugging off Jeremy’s excuse of a shirt. The moment it was gone, Jean flipped them, pressing Jeremy onto his back. He went straight for the tight jeans, ripping them off with hands that shook from how fast he was moving. Jeremy writhed beneath him, mumbling incoherently, eyes blinking slowly with a hazy, unfocused look.

Once Jeremy was naked beneath him, Jean took a deep breath and sent a silent, thankful prayer to whoever had granted him this moment. Jeremy was freckled everywhere, his body carved like something out of a sculptor’s daydream. His abs twitched with every tiny movement, and his legs were toned — exactly the kind Jean had fantasized about more times than he’d ever admit. His cock was smaller than Jean’s, and it twitched against Jean’s palm when he wrapped a hand around it and gave one, then two rough strokes. Jeremy immediately whined, hips jerking, “G-God, Jean. Please.”

Jean reached for the lube in his bedside table with a speed that could rival the fastest man alive. He leaned down to kiss him, licking at the drool slipping from the corner of Jeremy’s mouth, smug at the whine it pulled from him. Then he rolled Jeremy onto his stomach with one firm, guiding hand. Jeremy immediately started grinding down into the bed.

Jean growled and slapped his ass again. “I said stop it.”

Jeremy threw his head back, glaring up at Jean as he tried, and failed, to bite back the loud moan the slap had dragged out of him. Jean only raised an eyebrow at the petty look and slapped the other cheek when Jeremy humped the bed again. That did it; Jeremy dropped his upper body and collapsed limply onto the mattress.

Jean hummed appreciatively, rubbing soothing circles over the reddening skin. He kissed his way down Jeremy’s flushed back, warmth curling in his chest at the soft, sweet scent of whatever coconut cream Jeremy used on his skin. He lingered at the dimples decorating Jeremy’s lower back, leaving a deep bite on each one that had Jeremy crying into the pillow.

Then Jean moved lower, spreading Jeremy’s cheeks and dragging a slow, deliberate lick down his hole. The loud whine that burst out made him look up. Jeremy was glancing back over his shoulder with wide eyes, jaw slack around softer, breathy sounds when Jean smirked and licked him again.

“Jean—” Jeremy whined, but Jean ignored the plea, intent on giving him a show. He dipped lower to lick at Jeremy’s balls, sucking gently at each. When Jeremy’s legs began to shake, Jean had to grip the backs of his knees to keep him steady. Pride surged hot through him as Jeremy moaned, “F-fuck, Jean. I… P-Please.”

He moved back up and licked at Jeremy’s hole until he could press his tongue inside, tightening his grip on Jeremy’s legs as the man screamed into the pillow and thrashed at the intrusion. From then on, Jean focused entirely on the taste of him, moaning as Jeremy clenched around his tongue. Jean frowned in concentration, thrusting his tongue in and out while readying his fingers with lube.

His own cock was almost fully hard again, brushing against the sheets. The knowledge that Jeremy had been grinding in that same spot with his own throbbing, wet cock was enough to make Jean’s eyes roll back. He groaned as Jeremy opened beautifully around one of his fingers, greedily holding it in as he tightened around it. Jean stared, dazed, mouth falling open as he pushed in a second finger.

A long, desperate whine snapped him out of it. Jean smirked at the sight of Jeremy’s hands fisted in the sheets before curling his fingers. He found what he was looking for in seconds. Jeremy thrashed when Jean hit his prostate, then looked down at him with tears in his eyes, clearly fighting the urge to grind down again.

Jean hummed, gaze sweeping over the beautiful mess beneath him. He quickened his pace, adding a third finger and curling them, pressing insistently into the same spot. Jeremy cried out, “Please let me—J-Jean, I need to—” before breaking into another long moan.

Jean moved up, fingers still working him open, and draped his body over Jeremy’s back. He bit at his ear, groaning as Jeremy clenched around his fingers again and again. Leaning farther in, Jean licked a tear off Jeremy’s cheek and kissed him. Jeremy was completely gone, mouth slack around constant moans, letting Jean lick into him without resistance.

After only a few seconds, Jean growled a low, rough, “Come.”

He saw Jeremy’s eyes stutter as he ground down once and came, the orgasm ripping through him so hard it made Jean feel winded and impossibly turned on. Jean dropped soft kisses along the freckles of his cheek as the man sagged against the sheets, blinking up at him slowly. When Jean leaned back to take him in, Jeremy pushed up just enough to catch his lips in a deep, consuming kiss that made the rest of the world fall away until there was only Jeremy.

He was so distracted—so enamored—that he didn’t notice Jeremy shift until a hand pressed firmly to his chest, easing him onto his back.

Jean stared up, jaw slack, as Jeremy settled into his lap. He was still clearly recovering, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. His whole body was flushed from release, cheeks and neck blooming red, eyes shining with leftover tears. Jean licked his lips, gaze dragging over the sheen of sweat on Jeremy’s abs.

He groaned when Jeremy wrapped a hand around his now fully hard cock, stroking with growing intent.

“Please tell me you’re clean.”

Jean opened his eyes just in time to see Jeremy smirk as his cock twitched in that slick palm at the words.

Jean nodded, and Jeremy smiled, leaning forward until their lips nearly touched. “You know, I usually don’t do this.” His tongue brushed Jean’s bottom lip before he murmured, “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

Jean raised a brow, letting Jeremy ghost their mouths together once more before pulling back up. Jean stared—memorizing every movement, every sound, every tiny twitch—as Jeremy lifted slowly and pressed the head of Jean’s cock teasingly against his hole.

Jean scrambled to get his hands on Jeremy’s waist, jaw tight as he tried to hold still. When Jeremy finally decided to relieve them both of their suffering, he slowly pressed down, taking Jean’s cock inside him. Jean felt his jaw crack from how hard he clenched his teeth, his fingers digging almost painfully into Jeremy’s waist.

There was no coming back from this—from the knowledge of just how warm and tight Jeremy was, from seeing how badly he wanted him as he frowned and concentrated on relaxing, from the way Jeremy scrambled to brace his hands on Jean’s chest as he sank a little deeper, a wanton, sinful moan falling from his lips.

“So fucking big,” Jeremy whined, his nails dragging down Jean’s chest as he lowered himself even slower. Jean had to shut his eyes and start counting just to keep himself from saying fuck it and slamming the beautiful man down onto his cock. The pressure was overwhelming, and Jeremy was so warm Jean briefly thought he wouldn’t complain if he died like this.

Jeremy must’ve been just as impatient, because a second later he dropped fully onto him, both of them releasing raw, guttural moans.

Jean barely had time to breathe before Jeremy grabbed his jaw and kissed him, messy and desperate. Jean inhaled sharply, sliding his hands down to grip Jeremy’s ass, kissing back with equal hunger. Jeremy whimpered into his mouth, and when Jean leaned back, he watched Jeremy’s dazed eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide.

Jean rubbed one of his asscheeks soothingly. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

Jeremy whined and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Jean’s lips and cheek as he ground down in a slow circle. Jean cursed loudly, gripping him so hard he knew he’d leave marks.

Jeremy leaned back, mouth open in nonstop moans and whines as he started riding Jean in earnest. The sight nearly made Jean black out. He forced his eyes to stay open, not knowing where to look first—Jeremy’s almost fully hard cock bouncing against his stomach, or his toned, sweat-slick legs flexing beautifully as they carried a cock-drunk Jeremy through the rhythm.

Jean grabbed one of his thighs, his other hand pressing a finger around the place where his cock kept disappearing into Jeremy’s stretched rim. Jeremy moaned at the touch, his cock twitching right in front of Jean’s face.

“Having fun?” Jean asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Jeremy nodded in quick succession, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut from pleasure. Precum dripped onto Jean’s pelvis; Jean followed the trail up to Jeremy’s throat with hunger burning in his chest.

“Need help, baby?”

Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open—glassy, unfocused, ruined—and he immediately shook his head. A small, desperate sound escaped him as he tightened around Jean, pushing down harder like he needed to prove he could do it himself. He was clearly gone, fucked-out and shaky but still moving with purpose, that strong body curving beautifully as he rode Jean into oblivion.

Jean hummed, stroking lightly around his rim. “Ask me to fuck you.”

Jeremy moaned, shaking his head as tears gathered in his eyes. Jean clenched his jaw. “Come on, baby. I know you want it.” He rubbed his other hand up and down Jeremy’s thigh in teasing motions. Jeremy shook his head again after a pause, but Jean knew exactly what to say next.

“Be a good cockslut and take me, baby.” Jean gripped his hips once again, bending his knees behind Jeremy. He tilted his head, looking up at the angel of a man as he writhed and moaned when Jean brushed against his prostate. Jeremy began instantly circling his hips there, not even trying to move up and down, but blindly focusing on stimulating his own spot with no mercy.

He whined at Jean’s words. Jean growled and smacked his ass twice, turned on beyond comprehension at the mindless and lustful act of Jeremy being so out of his mind he was grinding down onto his cock like he could only think about that. He groaned, “Won’t you? Be good for me?”

Jeremy finally nodded repeatedly, clearly not successful in orgasming without the help of the other. His eyes, now more focused, glinted with daring hotness, even as his mouth dropped into another moan when Jean delivered another smack.

 “Show me what you can do, Jean.” Jeremy muttered, smirking.

He said his name like he was thinking of another word, and Jean growled and snapped his hips up in a quick motion. Jeremy immediately fell limp onto his chest, hands grabbing at Jean’s pecs, eyes widened with newly forming tears in their corners as he screamed. Jean panted in his ear, overcome with the need to make Jeremy come again. He did not have to wait long, feeling Jeremy pulsing around him as cum coated Jean’s abs. Jean fucked him through the orgasm, slow and deep, as Jeremy kissed his entire face, eventually dropping to his mouth with an insistent and mindless kiss.

Jean groaned into the kiss, losing his vision as Jeremy clenched tightly around him. He pulled back and, panting, asked, “Can I keep going?”

He saw Jeremy nod once and threw him on the bed. Jean immediately settled on top of him, guiding his cock inside his swollen hole again, eyesight blurring from how turned on he felt, ready to burst. His cock slid inside with a wet pop that made Jean curse and Jeremy moan. The moans did not stop, and Jean swiped his hand down his own chest, gathering Jeremy’s cum, then extended his hand to push his fingers into Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy immediately lapped at his fingers hungrily, moaning when Jean twitched inside him at the hot sight.

After a few seconds of just staring as Jeremy confidently and sensually licked at his wet fingers, Jean hummed, leaning forward and grabbing Jeremy by his hamstrings. “I’ve been dreaming about having you in every corner of this place, in every position possible. I know you’d be able to do it.” He pushed and pushed at his legs, Jeremy staring at him all the while, a smug smile settling on his face despite his dazed eyes. Jean continued until Jeremy was folded in half into a plow pose, legs stretched straight as his feet touched the headboard.

“You have no idea how many positions you can put me in,” Jeremy smirked, and Jean pressed down onto his legs with wild force. Jeremy’s smug expression fell as he moaned at the gripping hands and the sharp thrust Jean gave him in response. Jean didn’t know if it was his lust-addled brain, but he thought he saw the shape of his cock bulging against Jeremy’s stomach. He thrust forward twice more, successfully hitting Jeremy’s prostate on the second, and was fully mesmerized as he saw the shape of his cock moving in front of his eyes. He placed a hand on his pelvis and pressed down just as he gave the next thrust.

“Jean—!” Jeremy screamed. Jean started on a punishing rhythm, now more than ever thankful for the stamina he’d built at the gym. Jeremy was looking at him with crazed eyes, hands gripping Jean’s biceps, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. His face was slack with pleasure, tears dripping in beautiful droplets down his reddened cheeks. Jean thrust into him until he felt the heat building low in his abdomen. He was barely able to move back before those hands on his biceps tightened and he saw Jeremy quickly shaking his head.

“Inside. Please come inside me, baby, I need it.”

That was all Jean needed. He felt insane as he came, warmth spreading down his body, ears ringing from pleasure. Jeremy was kissing him all over his face and neck. Jean kept thrusting, slower but deep, until he was fully spent and panting.

After a long moment of kissing and muttering sweet things to each other, Jean pulled out slowly, dropping reassuring kisses on the corner of Jeremy’s mouth as he winced. Jean moved down his body, staring at his cum dripping from Jeremy’s hole in slow, erotic motions. Of course, the devil underneath him clenched, the cum pouring out of him in faster rivulets. Jean hummed and pressed a thumb against his hole to hold everything back. Jeremy moaned, and Jean leaned down to press his fingers inside, curling them up against his prostate. Jeremy’s dick gave a few pathetic squirts—not a full orgasm, just a few droplets—as he came again. Jean smirked at the writhing man in his bed, leaning down to finally lap the cum up from his hole into his mouth before going back up and kissing Jeremy deeply.

Jeremy moaned into the kiss, reaching up to grip Jean’s shoulders as he shuddered at the taste of him.

“Good boy,” Jean mumbled once Jeremy swallowed, perfect in every sense of the word. Jeremy blushed brightly at the comment and turned to hide the side of his face, whining into his pillow. The whining didn’t last long, though—he rolled back over and kissed Jean, softer now but still sensual.

“You’re too hot. I am never letting you go,” Jeremy muttered. Jean chuckled into the kiss, preening at the comment and at the way Jeremy’s hands roamed all over him like he couldn’t decide where to touch.

They kept kissing, the kisses gradually softening as lethargy settled over their bodies. When Jeremy started giggling because Jean was blowing raspberries into his neck, Jean’s stomach churned with a desperate, terrifying certainty that he couldn’t let this be a one-time thing. He couldn’t pretend it had never happened.

He leaned back, and Jeremy’s giggles faded as he looked up at him with a drowsy smile. Jean hummed, rubbing a thumb over Jeremy’s waist and wondering what kind of saint he must have saved in a past life to deserve this. Moonlight caught Jeremy’s eyes, turning them an even lighter shade of brown—so beautiful that Jean had the fleeting idea of matching things in his house to that color. And then he thought, Maybe that way I can have something of him if he never wants to see me again, followed immediately by I want this every day.

And so, determined not to ruin the one thing he wanted when he’d never wanted anything before, he said, “This wasn’t just a casual thing for me, Jeremy. I want to date you.”

The way Jeremy’s eyes softened made a part of Jean’s heart break and then mend itself, stitched back together with honey-brown thread. Hope rang in his ears in time with his racing heartbeat.

Jeremy’s eyes twinkled as he tilted his head, thumb brushing over Jean’s cheek and jaw in a considering gesture. Then he smiled, nodding slowly.

“You know, I wasn’t joking before. If you let me, I’d rather not ever know what letting you go feels like.”

Jean instantly felt warmth rush through his body—this time nothing akin to lust but a happiness he hadn’t known himself capable of. He still felt like he was dreaming when Jeremy pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek like an angel straight from heaven. Jean let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes as Jeremy began peppering kisses all over his face with loud, exaggerated noises. Jean pretended to frown at the onslaught, but a matching grin was already forming as he reached out to return the favor. Jeremy let out a loud sound of happy surprise before dissolving into soft, staccato chuckles that echoed in Jean’s head.

Still laughing, Jeremy tugged Jean down again, their mouths meeting in a slow kiss that tasted like promise more than heat. When they finally parted, their foreheads stayed pressed together, Jeremy’s thumb brushing over Jean’s bottom lip.

“Tomorrow we’re doing this again,” he murmured.

Jean swallowed. “Tomorrow… and the day after that.”

Jeremy’s smile turned wicked and sweet all at once. “Good. Because I have a lot of plans for you.”

Another shiver ran down Jean’s spine, but this time, he didn’t bother hiding it. Jeremy kissed him again, softer now, the kind of kiss that settled them both. Eventually he slowed, resting his forehead against Jean’s as their breaths fell into easy rhythm.

“Stay,” Jean whispered, like it wasn’t even a question.

Jeremy did not answer and instead melted into his chest, warm and loose with sleep, and Jean let himself memorize the weight of him. For the first time in a long time, the night quieted around him in a way that didn’t feel empty.

He closed his eyes.

He woke to the sound of loud clattering coming from the kitchen, the kind of noise that suggested either breakfast or catastrophe. Jean blinked blearily, squinting against the sunlight spilling through the curtains in a bright, accusing glare. His head felt heavy with sleep as he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pushed himself upright. He reached instinctively for the other side of the bed and stilled when his palm met cool sheets instead of warm skin. But the warmth hadn’t faded completely, so Jeremy hadn’t been gone long. Jean let out a low groan, dragging a hand through his hair before stumbling out of bed.

He moved on autopilot, grabbing the first shirt he found draped over a chair, stepping into a pair of boxers, then sweatpants. With his eyes half-closed, he patted blindly at the floor near his closet until his feet bumped against his slippers. He shuffled toward the bathroom like a man twice his age. He was halfway through brushing when another clatter echoed down the hallway, followed by a startled yelp that could only belong to Jeremy.

Jean snorted into the sink, foam threatening to escape, spat, rinsed, and wiped his mouth. Amusement warmed his chest as he pushed off the counter.

What greeted him in the kitchen was… a masterpiece. A tragic, hilarious, weirdly endearing masterpiece.

Jeremy stood at the sink pouring water into a very burnt pan, his eyebrows pulled together in deep concentration and his mouth twisted into a horrified grimace. On the counter beside the stove sat a plate with what might once have been eggs, three entirely blackened shapes still giving off a thin trail of smoke.

Jean leaned a shoulder against the island, just watching. Jeremy muttered a string of soft curses, finished filling the pan, and then turned to regard the charred eggs with the solemnity of a man attending a funeral. His bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

If anyone else had ruined his favorite pan, Jean would’ve been pissed. But Jeremy—Jeremy standing in Jean’s kitchen, wearing his clothes and looking like he’d personally disappointed God—was too adorable for Jean to feel anything but helplessly fond.

Jeremy had pulled on one of Jean's white graphic tees, a shirt Jean wore to the gym often enough that he knew for a fact Jeremy had seen it on him. On Jeremy, though, it fell to mid-thigh. Either he wasn’t wearing underwear, or it was short enough to disappear under the hem. Jean tried not to think too hard about that and failed instantly.

The socks, too—Jean’s socks—looked comically big on him. One of Jeremy’s feet twitched nervously as he rubbed it against the floor while staring down at the burnt eggs, a tiny fidget that made Jean smile.

He heard him sigh, and when Jean looked back at his face he almost groaned. Jeremy’s hair was a mess, his freckles bright, his pout dramatic—too dramatic for someone who had absolutely ruined a pan and three eggs. Jean tried, genuinely tried, to push away the flood of indecent thoughts buzzing up his chest. But then the man sighed again and reached for another pan, and any hope for restraint evaporated.

Possessiveness curled deep in his gut, sharp and startling and softened immediately by the wave of affection that followed as Jeremy tiptoed to look deeper into the cabinet. Then Jean saw his limp, barely there but unmistakable, and he had to closed his eyes for a second to calm himself down. Images from last night flashed in bright, obscene detail, and Jean snapped his eyes open.

And when Jeremy reached up, the hem of the T-shirt lifted just enough for Jean to know, without a doubt, that he was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Jean swallowed, stepped forward, and placed a hand on the counter on either side of Jeremy, caging him in. Jeremy froze mid-reach, a still-too-large pan in his hand, and looked over his shoulder with wide eyes.

Jean smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good morning.”

Jeremy stared at him like a deer in headlights—mouth parted, brain clearly buffering. Jean huffed a quiet laugh, reached past him, and gently took the pan from his hand. He put it back on the shelf, grabbed the smaller one behind it, and set it on the counter.

When he turned back, Jeremy was still staring at him, cheeks pink, mouth open.

Jean raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the plate of burnt eggs. “Mind if I take over?”

His thumb brushed slowly along Jeremy’s waist, and that finally broke the spell. Jeremy flushed fast, ears reddening first, then looked at the plate with a miserable little pout.

“Morning,” he muttered, giving Jean a half-glance before glaring at the ruined eggs again. “I was trying to cook us breakfast since you did dinner yesterday.”

Jean hummed, tightening his grip on Jeremy’s waist and gently pulling him back into his chest. He pressed another kiss to his cheek, slower this time. Jeremy kept pouting and avoiding his eyes, but the bright blush spreading across his freckles gave him away.

“It’s okay,” Jean murmured. “I like cooking.”

Jeremy turned to look at him with a frown and a pout that Jean immediately leaned in to kiss. When he pulled back, Jeremy blinked up at him, dazed and pink. Jean felt a satisfied warmth pool in his belly.

Jeremy smacked his stomach lightly in retaliation, turning fully toward him without bothering to escape his arms. He pointed a scolding finger at Jean’s chest even as he stayed pressed between his body and the counter, glare only half-serious.

“Your stove heats more than it should. It is not my fault,” Jeremy complained.

Jean’s voice dropped into a deep, barely contained bass—because if Jeremy stayed embarrassed and pouty like that for another second, Jean really was going to throw him over his shoulder and take him back to the bedroom. He kept his face carefully serious instead.

“Whatever you say, amour. Now,” he nodded at the counter, “can I cook us breakfast?”

Jeremy’s frown only deepened. He started tapping his foot against the floor, looking for all the world like an angry cartoon bunny. Jean sighed, stepped forward, and without effort picked him up by the waist, setting him onto the counter beside the stove.

Jeremy’s blush flared instantly, blooming down the neckline of the oversized white shirt. Great, Jean sighed again, mission accomplished.

Jean turned back to the stove, now free to work. He started on a simple breakfast of toast and a generous amount of eggs. It was, unexpectedly, the most domestic thing Jean had ever done.

Jeremy, perched on the counter and swinging his feet, launched straight into a rant about how there was no room left in the studio for the group trying to force their way into Friday Pilates classes. Jean listened with full attention, humming occasionally, adding comments when Jeremy paused to ask for his opinion. Jeremy talked with his hands, eyebrows jumping, his face shifting into a dozen expressions in under a minute. Bright and alive, even at this hour.

While the eggs finished cooking and the avocado sat ready on the cutting board, Jean leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, smiling up at him.

Jeremy suddenly fell silent. His eyes dragged over Jean, slow and soft in a way that made Jean’s chest tighten. The blush that had faded came back, blooming across Jeremy’s cheeks. Jean raised a brow in question.

Jeremy swallowed, looked down at his swinging feet, then back at Jean with a sheepish smile. One shoulder lifted in a tiny shrug. “Sorry for rambling so much.”

Jean frowned, shaking his head immediately. “I like hearing your voice.”

Jeremy still looked unsure, so Jean added with a small smirk, “Besides… your stories happened to distract me from your earlier mishap.”

That immediately had Jeremy gasping and rambling again, overexplaining every detail as he dramatically went step by step through how Jean’s stove had betrayed him and ruined his plan of surprising Jean with breakfast in bed. They ended up eating their breakfast right there, Jeremy perched on the counter with the plate balanced on his lap, while Jean chewed his bacon and listened to him recount the strange interaction between a woman from yoga and Cody.

It was, again, so domestic that Jean felt like he was living in a dream, his brain a warm, satisfied haze from being wrapped in Jeremy’s scent, voice, and body heat for over twelve hours now. He could feel the hum of last night still thrumming under his skin, a soft ache and a sharper hunger he kept pretending was just the lack of sleep.

“You remember the first time we met?” Jeremy asked suddenly, taking a bite of his toast. A bit of avocado stayed on his lower lip, and Jean leaned in without thinking, thumbing it away and sucking the taste from his finger. Jeremy went scarlet instantly, and Jean had to hide his smile behind his hand. It was criminally endearing — the man going shy now, after everything they’d done yesterday. Especially when the evidence was right there in the way Jeremy kept shifting on the counter, trying to find a position that eased the soreness in his lower body. Every small squirm shot a spark of hunger low in Jean’s stomach, one that breakfast hadn’t come close to fixing.

He turned toward his plate, pretending to focus on the last bit of eggs. After swallowing, he hummed. “I do remember.” He paused, took a slow sip of his coffee, then looked back at Jeremy with a small smile. Jeremy was watching him so intently—utterly still, waiting—that it made Jean’s breath stutter. It was overwhelming and wonderful, that weight of attention, so he broke it by looking at Jeremy’s plate and continued, “I was a mess afterwards. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

Jeremy squirmed again, but when Jean glanced up, his eyes were shining, a soft smile curving his lips. He bit down on that lower lip before speaking. “I said hi and you left the building.”

Jean groaned, rubbing his forehead, trying to hide the completely unfair blush creeping up his neck. “Jeremy, I thought I was hallucinating.”

Jermey laughed softly, eyes crinkling with his big smile. His eyes creased lovingly, lines beautifully hugging his eyes just the way his dimples did his lips.

“I don’t think you realize the effect you have on people,” Jean muttered, dropping his hand.

Jeremy huffed, shaking his head as he stared at the last piece of toast before pushing the plate aside. “I only cared if you were looking at me.” The words landed in Jean’s chest with impossible weight, and Jeremy didn’t give him a second to breathe before adding, “I also thought I imagined you when I first saw you. Imagine my brain trying to process the literal incarnation of my dream man lifting double my weight right outside my class. God, I was a sweaty mess too.”

Jean spoke before he could think better of it. “You looked like you stepped straight out of a dream. I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. I still can’t.” Jeremy froze, mouth parted, and Jean kept going, a smirk curling up without permission. “Also, more than double.”

There wasn’t even a heartbeat of delay. Jeremy hopped off the counter, grabbed him, and kissed him — a fast, hungry, consuming kiss that had Jean moaning in surprise against his mouth.

Jean’s hands flew to his waist on instinct, dragging him in until their bodies aligned perfectly, heat meeting heat with no room left between them. Jeremy melted against him immediately, going soft and pliant in a way that set something hungry alight in Jean’s chest. The last hour of simmering want surged back all at once.

Jean guided him backward step by step, not breaking the kiss, until he could lift him, his hands curling under the backs of Jeremy’s thighs. Jeremy gasped into his mouth, fingers threading into Jean’s hair as he let himself be placed on the mostly empty kitchen island, breath catching as he settled.

“God, I love when you do that.” Jean groaned at the tone of Jeremy’s voice, airy already like he’d already been fucked sideways. With single-minded focus, he pushed at Jeremy’s chest until the man laid back on the island, a whine falling from his lips as their mouths separated. There was a streak of saliva dropping from his bottom lip, and his pupils were blown, eyebrows turned down in a frown.

Jean reached for the hem of the shirt Jeremy had stolen that morning and tugged it up slowly, deliberately, until it brushed Jeremy’s lips. Jeremy’s breath hitched. Then he opened his mouth and bit down on the cloth, eyes fluttering shut like the gesture alone unraveled him.

Jean’s voice dropped to a murmur, low and pleased. “Good,” he whispered, watching Jeremy’s chest rise in a shaky inhale.

“I’m going back for seconds.” Jean muttered, smirking when Jeremy’s whine was muffled by his own shirt. Jean spat on his palm, reaching down to stroke Jeremy’s half-hard cock. Jean groaned loudly as his eyes fell on the reddened rim of Jeremy’s hole clenching on nothing, winking at him as Jeremy threw his head back in pleasure. He took a droplet of precum and rubbed his thumb over the swollen rim, satisfied thoroughly as he saw Jeremy slam his hands down against the table, unsuccessful in his target of finding something to cling to in mindless pressure. A vase with sunflowers shook in the corner of the island. Jean hummed at the pathetic display, and lowered to lick up the two veins that intertwined under Jeremy’s cock, thumb moving simultaneously against his hole, pushing but not enough.

“Please, Jean!” It was like music to his ears, hearing his own name slurred in pleasure. He looked up to see the wet hem of the shirt sitting on Jeremy’s collarbone, and his eyes were shining with tears, staring at him as he pleaded.

Jean hummed consideringly, hand twisting at the base of Jeremy’s dick in such a way that Jeremy turned his face to the side, moaning, drool dropping from his mouth and onto the table. He gave a few more tight sucks to the tip, leaning back and immediately hearing Jeremy complain with loud whines, before moving down to lap at his hole hungrily.

He heard another smack as Jeremy slammed his hands into the table, moaning, “Nnh–!”

That was enough for Jean to close his eyes and dedicate himself fully to fucking the warm hole with his tongue, hand mindlessly moving in tight circles around the base of Jeremy’s dick. The man was now thrashing, pleas falling from his mouth like a waterfall. He was tongue-deep, two fingers pressing up insistently when Jeremy made a warning cry. Jean pulled back, panting, and grabbed at Jeremy’s chin so the man opened his eyes. When he did, Jean gasped softly, staring at Jeremy’s completely dazed and gone face, a pool of drool beside him, lips bitten red, and freckles a splatter of strawberry seeds.

“What do you want, Jeremy?” he asked quietly.

Jeremy blinked slowly, clearly fighting to focus through the haze. After a few seconds he groaned, biting at his finger when Jean brushed his thumb along his lip. Jean tugged his thumb back under Jeremy’s chin, and only then did Jeremy speak, voice low and trembling.

“I need you to fuck me, baby. Can you fuck me?”

Jean had to close his eyes for a second, fighting the rush that threatened to take him out entirely. There was no way this was his life. He breathed in hard, willed himself not to come already, and nodded—then pressed up against his prostate again, drawing another sharp cry out of Jeremy.

“How do you want it?”

This time, Jeremy didn’t answer with words. His teeth tugged at his lower lip, and his gaze flicked to the side, toward the wall. Jean followed his line of sight, amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. When he looked back down, Jeremy was staring everywhere but at him, darting glances around nervously as he kept worrying that same spot on his lip.

Jean smirked and leaned down, catching Jeremy’s lip gently between his teeth before licking slowly until Jeremy parted his mouth. The kiss that followed was messy, needy, all heat and no restraint. Jean groaned into it, his whole body tightening, and nudged his nose against Jeremy’s.

“You want me to fuck you against the wall, chéri?”

Jeremy whined against his lips, nodding fast, and Jean swallowed the sound hungrily. He pulled his fingers free with a quick pop, ignoring Jeremy’s frustrated noise in favor of sliding his hands under his thighs. Jeremy immediately moved to take off his clothes, hurridly throwing the shirt and socks to the side without looking away from Jean’s eyes.

Jeremy went up easily, colliding with Jean’s chest, arms winding around his shoulders, legs trembling as they wrapped around his waist. Jean hummed in appreciation, hands settling on his ass with a possessive firmness as he walked them toward the wide kitchen wall. Jeremy looked up at him like Jean held every answer in the world, blinking dazedly, trusting him completely.

He suddenly felt teeth scraping at his jaw, and he groaned, slamming Jeremy backward with renewed urgency. Jeremy’s answering whine traveled straight to his ear, sharp and sweet like a siren’s call. With single-minded focus, Jean reached down—one arm braced under Jeremy’s ass, the other pushing his sweatpants and boxers low enough to free his cock. They moaned at the same time as Jean’s cock sprang free, brushing against Jeremy’s hole from the momentum alone. Jeremy panted against his cheek, pressing hurried kisses and little bites wherever his mouth landed.

Jean focused on teasing the head of his dick against Jeremy’s swollen rim, earning breathless pants and filthy little comments that had him dropping his head onto a freckled shoulder, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He pressed Jeremy harder into the wall, sucking a mark onto his shoulder while continuing to tease him, one arm winding securely around his waist. He moaned when he noticed how his whole arm spanned Jeremy’s narrow waist, feeling Jeremy’s abs twitch against his open palm.

He was thoroughly distracted when Jeremy shifted, lifting one leg from around his waist and pushing it higher and higher until his knee hooked over Jean’s shoulder. Jean growled, using his grip around Jeremy’s waist to pull his other leg into a matching position—and nearly blacked out when the sudden angle made the tip of his cock catch on Jeremy’s wet hole.

He leaned forward, pressing and pressing until no space remained between them, Jeremy folded with his knees to his chest and his head thrown back against the wall. Jean bent low, hunger curling through him, his mouth tracing a slow, greedy path down Jeremy’s throat. When his lips brushed a pebbled nipple, he paused only long enough to breathe against it before latching on, lapping with single-minded, dizzying focus as Jeremy’s breath hitched sharply above him.

“Jean, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right now—” Jeremy’s threat dissolved into a moan, his hips twitching in pleasure as Jean stroked himself, his hand slick with saliva, and pressed the tip in only to pull back again, ignoring the roaring in his own ears just to tease Jeremy once more.

“What if I want to wait another minute?” he hummed, teeth catching on Jeremy’s earlobe. He shifted forward again, and Jeremy cried out, the sound sharp and helpless as Jean’s cock brushed exactly where he wanted it. Jean held still this time, eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of Jeremy—open-mouthed, starry-eyed, tears threatening to spill as he stared up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

Between one breath and the next, Jeremy pushed down himself, pelvis tilting as he tried to force more of Jean’s cock inside. Jean moaned, fighting to stay still, panting as he watched Jeremy move—watched him try to fuck himself with a desperation that made Jean’s mind white out. His legs trembled where they rested on Jean’s shoulders, and Jean knew he had only seconds left before he shattered.

He broke the moment with a single, sharp thrust, one that made Jeremy cry out louder than he had since yesterday. Jean dropped his forehead to Jeremy’s shoulder, groaning at the feeling of Jeremy tightening around him, pulling greedily, taking in every inch Jean offered and silently begging for more. Jean growled at the sheer want of it and gripped Jeremy’s ass hard, guiding him down in one rough movement until Jeremy had all of him, every last bit of his cock.

Somehow, impossibly, it felt even better than yesterday. Both of them were slick with sweat; Jean’s sweatpants were shoved low around his thighs, his blue shirt damp with Jeremy’s breath and drool. Jeremy’s legs trembled with exertion, hamstrings flexing beautifully each time Jean drove upward, deep and sure. There was something feral, something intoxicating about having Jeremy like this—bare, overwhelmed, trembling against his kitchen wall, the same place that had always been Jean’s safe space.

Jeremy blinked up at him with glassy eyes, fingers clawing at Jean’s shoulders as he dragged him into a kiss that was more breath than lips, more sound than technique. Jean slowed his pace, moving with focused intent, pulling Jeremy down by the hips in tandem. Jeremy’s mouth fell open into tiny whines each time Jean’s angle shifted just right, every sound puncturing Jean’s control.

Only then did Jean notice the sheen across Jeremy’s stomach, evidence of an earlier release Jean had been too lost to register. He groaned at the sight, gaze drifting to Jeremy’s flushed, twitching dick still hard despite everything.

On the next thrust, Jean held himself there, hips rolling in a slow, deliberate circle meant to repeatedly press against Jeremy’s prostate. Jeremy groaned, jaw tightening, eyes squeezing shut as he matched the movement, grinding down with a sinful, instinctive hunger that made Jean’s vision swim.

Jeremy leaned forward, hips still moving obscenely, and kissed him—deep, consuming, dizzying. Jean nearly buckled. Enamored and half-feral, he tightened his grip on Jeremy’s ass and pushed up with renewed intensity. The kitchen echoed with the slick, messy sounds of Jean’s balls slapping against Jeremy’s ass, every slap loud and filthy in the small space. Jeremy gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into Jean’s shoulders hard enough to bruise.

“Give it to me, Jean,” Jeremy moaned against his mouth, fingers curling into the hair at Jean’s nape. “Come on. I need it.”

That was all Jean needed. He moved in one sharp, decisive thrust, a low growl tearing out of him as he buried his face against Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy cried out, body tightening, hips jerking as cum spilled hot between them, streaking Jean’s shirt and mixing with his earlier release on his stomach. Jean kept moving in slow, grounding motions, riding out the deep, overwhelming pulse of release, listening to Jeremy’s breathless stream of praises—half-words, half-whimpers—that made Jean’s ears burn red.

Gently, he eased Jeremy’s shaking legs down from his shoulders, lowering them one by one. He held Jeremy carefully as he slid down the wall, the shift causing Jean to slip free with a soft, shaky gasp from Jeremy. Jean’s breath caught as he watched his own cum trail slowly down the inside of Jeremy’s thighs, the sight leaving him dazed and breathless. Jeremy felt it too; his legs twitched, and he let out the smallest, helpless noise that punched all the air from Jean’s lungs.

He cupped Jeremy’s flushed face with both hands, kissed him with a heat that bordered on worship, and tightened his grip around Jeremy’s waist when the man’s knees gave out entirely.

When they finally broke for air, Jeremy’s lips were pink and swollen, his lashes fluttering like he was fighting consciousness and bliss at the same time. Jean bent and lifted Jeremy into his arms bridal style. Jeremy complained weakly that he could walk, despite his legs trembling so hard Jean could feel the tremors through his own chest.

Jean rolled his eyes, but the fond smile betraying him. “Sure you can.”

They reached the hallway when Jeremy lifted his head from Jean’s shoulder, eyes bright and dreamy. “Think we can do that again in my studio?” he asked, grinning up at him with that perfect, devastating dimple.

Jean raised an eyebrow as he stepped past his bedroom door. “Aren’t there cameras inside?”

Jeremy hummed, trailing a slow fingertip along Jean’s jaw. His lashes lowered, his smile turning wicked.

“I think,” he murmured, “we can figure it out.”

Jean nearly tripped over his own feet, and Jeremy’s laugh echoed in the bathroom, only breaking when Jean pressed their mouths together.

It was foolish to think Jean’s embarrassing yearning and constant staring would stop after their first date. But here he was anyway, sweating through his long-sleeved compression shirt as he watched his boyfriend from across the gym like a man stuck in a desert, watching an oasis from afar.

Jeremy was wearing a red tank top so loose his nipples kept flashing through the gaping sides, paired with the tightest shorts Jean had ever seen in his life. And of course they were gold, because Jeremy could not be normal even if he swore he was trying.

Jean had been spotting Tanner when Jeremy first walked by in that ridiculous outfit and nearly let the barbell fall on the kid. He stared blatantly, shamelessly ogling the way those golden shorts clung to him. Just yesterday, Jeremy had claimed his ass had gotten bigger since training with Jean. Jean had simply told him his ass had always been that big and that somehow earned him the best blowjob of his life. But now, watching Jeremy walk away, Jean swallowed hard. Maybe Jeremy had been right. Maybe it had gotten bigger.

He cursed under his breath, in all three languages he knew, as heat pooled in his belly and he felt himself twitch in his pants.

Before the class started, Jeremy waited outside the studio as he always did. Jean was caught between staring at him, remembering he technically had a job and should help Tanner, and glaring at every man lingering nearby who dared to glance in the studio’s direction.

Jeremy laughed at something a short woman said, head tipped back, throat bobbing with every word. When he caught Jean’s gaze, he smiled and mouthed, Hi, baby, following it with a wicked wink. Jean barely had time to return even a nod before Jeremy turned away, walking inside next to the woman, sunlight catching on those ridiculous shorts like they were designed to torment him.

Tanner called his name three times before Jean finally snapped out of it enough to help him unload plates from the barbell. Two of the men who had been shamelessly staring at Jeremy earlier were now glancing over at Jean with annoyed frowns, and that made something bright and possessive flare in his chest. He smiled back at them, slow and smug. Tanner snorted behind him.

Now, Jean found himself staring again as Jeremy finished class and fell into his usual after-session chatter with a cluster of students. Truly, Jean didn’t understand how he was still like this—still struck stupid by him—even now that they were officially dating, even knowing he’d be going home with the man later and seeing him every day after that.

His gaze drifted helplessly as a bead of sweat slid down Jeremy’s collarbone, gliding over his pink nipple and tracing a path down his stomach, pooling faintly against one of his abs. Jean exhaled sharply, licking his lips.

“Can you at least not get a boner until you finish my training session?”

Jean blinked down at Tanner, who was panting on the bench, towel looped around his neck and doing nothing to hide how red he’d gone.

“Come on,” Jean said, nudging his ankle lightly, “finish your last set.”

Tanner groaned but obeyed, sliding back under the barbell. Jean turned, eyes inevitably finding Jeremy again. The man was leaning against the doorframe now, talking to a student, but his gaze drifted, landing squarely on Jean’s chest.

Jean flexed immediately, tightening his core, his chest rising as the black shirt pulled tight across him. He knew exactly what he looked like in it—how it outlined every muscle, how it made him look bigger, broader, impossible to ignore. Jeremy’s lips parted just slightly, teeth catching on his lower lip before a student said something, drawing his attention away so fast Jean actually worried he might’ve strained his neck.

Tanner was on his fifth repetition, arms shaking, when Jean’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his sweatpants. Jean checked him quickly, saw he wasn’t dropping the bar, and pulled his phone out.

One message, a simple: Studio?

Jean’s breath caught.

He looked up just in time to see the studio door swing shut. Then he looked back at Tanner, who had three shaky repetitions left.

“Okay, you’re done,” Jean said immediately.

“What—?”

Jean didn’t even let him finish. He lifted the barbell back onto the stand and clapped Tanner on the shoulder. “See you in two days, kid.”

“Dude, you’ve gotta be kidding me—” Tanner called after him.

Jean tuned out Tanner’s dramatic groan as he made a beeline for the studio. Was it pathetic to drop everything the second his boyfriend sent a one-word text? Probably. Would he be doing it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day Jeremy crooked a pretty finger in his direction? Without hesitation. Jean pushed through the last few steps, resigned to his fate: he was completely hopeless, but that was fine. He’d been worse things. Being hopeless for Jeremy was the best title he’d ever earned.