Jacob’s treadmill sprint ended with a final, heavy step, his chest heaving as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Matt, still wedged in the stifling, musky confines of Jacob’s gym shorts, felt every shudder of the giant’s body, the heat and sweat an unrelenting assault. The air was thick with Jacob’s scent—raw, masculine, and dizzying. As Jacob grabbed his water bottle and headed toward the locker room, Matt braced for the next phase, hoping for a reprieve.
But Jacob’s voice, low and mischievous, dashed that hope. “Showers are busted today, shrimp,” he said, pushing open the door to a quiet bathroom stall and locking it behind him. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, and the faint smell of industrial cleaner mixed with the heavy musk rolling off Jacob’s body. He plucked Matt from his shorts, holding him up to his sweat-streaked face, his dark eyes glinting with playful intent. “Guess you’re gonna have to take care of this sweat for me, tiny. You’re my personal rag today.”
Matt’s stomach twisted, not with disgust—he’d grown oddly accustomed to Jacob’s scent, the raw intensity of it—but with a quiet wish that the giant would ease up. Still, he didn’t recoil as Jacob pressed him against his skin, the giant’s movements deliberate but tinged with that strange vulnerability, like he was testing Matt’s limits while craving his closeness.
Jacob started with his pits, lifting one arm to reveal a dense patch of dark, sweat-soaked hair. The smell hit Matt like a wave—sharp, tangy, and thick with testosterone. Jacob rubbed Matt against the slick, hairy surface, the coarse strands scraping his tiny body as sweat coated him in a warm, salty film. “Get in there, shrimp,” Jacob muttered, his voice teasing but soft, almost like he was checking for Matt’s reaction. Matt squirmed, not repulsed but overwhelmed, his tiny hands pushing against the skin in a futile wish for a break.
Next came Jacob’s groin. He tugged down his shorts, his cock and balls heavy and glistening with sweat. The musk here was even stronger, a heady mix of heat and raw masculinity. Jacob pressed Matt against the base of his shaft, sliding him along the velvety skin, then lower to the sensitive skin of his sack. The texture was intense—soft, warm, and slightly sticky with sweat. Matt’s body soaked it up, the scent clogging his senses, and though he didn’t shy away, he silently wished for a moment to breathe.
Jacob’s low chuckle rumbled as he moved Matt to his ass, parting his cheeks to press the tiny man against the tight, musky skin of his hole. The smell was earthy, sharp, and intimate, the heat almost suffocating. Matt worked mechanically, his body absorbing the sweat, his mind caught between endurance and a quiet plea for Jacob to stop. Finally, Jacob rubbed Matt across his feet, the giant toes flexing as he ground him against the calloused, sweaty skin. The odor was pungent, a mix of leather and salt, and Matt’s tiny form was slick with the accumulated sweat of Jacob’s entire body.
When it was over, Jacob held Matt up, inspecting his soaked, glistening form with a satisfied grin. “Fuck, you’re good at this, tiny,” he said, his tone laced with that flicker of softness, like he was as affected by the act as Matt was. He tucked Matt into his pocket, the fabric slightly less stifling than the shorts, and headed back to the dorm. “Don’t worry, shrimp. I’ll rinse you off later—maybe.”
Matt, exhausted but strangely unbothered by the ordeal, clung to the hope of a shower, his body still humming with the intensity of Jacob’s scent and the weight of his casual dominance.
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