Dylan pressed himself deeper into the crevice between Theo’s pectorals, the firm, warm flesh enveloping him like a living canyon. The steady thump of Theo’s heartbeat pulsed beneath, a rhythmic anchor that both grounded and unnerved him. “This is fine,” he whispered, though his trembling hands betrayed his doubt. “Just stay put, Dylan. Ride it out. Eight minutes left.” His wrist device’s faint beeping underscored the urgency, its sound lost in the vastness of Theo’s body.
Theo, oblivious to his tiny passenger, stood abruptly, the motion sending a quake through Dylan’s world. The pectorals flexed, squeezing Dylan tighter as Theo adjusted his shirt. “Crap, crap, crap!” Dylan hissed, flattening himself against the skin to avoid being crushed. The musky scent was overwhelming now, a heady mix of sweat and warmth that made his head spin. He gripped a coarse hair, its texture rough against his palms, and braced for whatever came next.
Theo grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder with a fluid motion that tilted his torso. Dylan slid an inch, his stomach lurching as he clung to the hair. “Easy, big guy!” he gasped, though Theo couldn’t hear him. The pectorals shifted again, the muscle contracting as Theo checked his phone. “One minute,” Theo muttered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Dylan’s bones. “Gotta book it.”
Theo broke into a jog, each step a seismic jolt that threatened to dislodge Dylan. The crevice between the pectorals became a double-edged sword: it offered shelter but also risked crushing him if Theo flexed too hard. Dylan wedged himself deeper, the slick warmth of the skin both comforting and claustrophobic. His device beeped—six minutes left. “Just hold on,” he panted, his muscles screaming from the effort. The heartbeat beneath him quickened, matching Theo’s pace, and the heat intensified, making Dylan’s skin prickle with sweat and something else—arousal he didn’t want to acknowledge.
The world tilted as Theo sprinted across campus, his breaths deep and rhythmic, each exhale sending a warm gust over Dylan’s perch. The shirt’s fabric grazed above, a looming threat, but the crevice kept Dylan secure, if barely. “This is insane,” Dylan muttered, his voice lost in the chaos. The musky scent, the heartbeat, the sheer scale of Theo’s body—it was too much, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the glistening skin around him.
Theo skidded to a stop, his chest heaving as he slipped into the lecture hall just as the professor began. “Made it,” Theo panted, sliding into a seat. The sudden stillness was a relief, but Dylan’s device beeped again—four minutes left. He had to move soon, find a safer spot, but for now, he stayed put, nestled in the warm, pulsing crevice. The heartbeat slowed, steady and hypnotic, and Dylan’s own pulse raced, caught between fear and the undeniable thrill of being so close to Theo’s raw power. “I’m so screwed,” he whispered, echoing Theo’s earlier words, but for entirely different reasons.
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