Between Rooms

Thomas Weatherby had lived quietly in his suburban home for five years, ever since his wife, Margaret, passed away. His days followed a predictable rhythm: morning coffee on the patio, crossword puzzles at lunch, and an hour of television before bed. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to, and he told himself it was enough.

When his son, Mark, called to ask for a favor, it took Thomas by surprise. Mark and his husband, Julian, were going through a difficult time—unexpected medical expenses and a sudden rent increase had left them in need of a temporary place to stay. Thomas hesitated, not because he didn’t want to help, but because he had grown used to the solitude of his home. Still, he couldn’t say no.

They arrived on a sunny Saturday, their car filled with belongings. Julian greeted Thomas warmly with a hug, his easy smile brightening the doorstep. Mark, quieter and more reserved, seemed almost apologetic. Thomas waved away his son’s unease, focusing instead on helping them settle in.

At first, their presence felt like a pleasant change. The house came alive with conversation and the aroma of Julian’s cooking, as he tried out creative recipes in the kitchen. Dinner became a lively affair, with Mark and Julian leading the conversation while Thomas listened, content to observe. Their energy was infectious, and Thomas began to enjoy the liveliness they brought into his home.

As the weeks passed, Thomas began noticing their small, affectionate gestures—the way Julian rested his hand on Mark’s back while they talked, or the soft laughter they shared over private jokes. One evening, Thomas passed the living room and saw them sitting together on the couch, Julian’s head resting on Mark’s shoulder. It was a tender moment, and Thomas found himself lingering, touched by the quiet intimacy they shared.

It made him reflect on his own life. His marriage to Margaret had been steady and reliable, defined by shared routines and unspoken understanding. They hadn’t been as openly expressive as Mark and Julian, and now Thomas found himself wondering about the differences in how love is shown.

Julian, with his easy charm and vibrant personality, seemed to light up every room he entered. Thomas found himself drawn to his energy and warmth, appreciating the way Julian brought life to the house. It wasn’t anything unsettling, just a growing awareness of how much he had come to enjoy their company.

At night, Thomas often lay awake, thinking about the life he and Margaret had shared and the changes his home had seen since Mark and Julian moved in. He thought about the laughter that now echoed through the halls and the way their presence had reminded him of the joy in connection and companionship.

One evening, as he lay in bed, he heard their quiet voices through the walls—Mark’s low murmur and Julian’s soft laugh. It was a comforting sound, a reminder that his home was no longer just a space of quiet routines, but one filled with life once more.

His chest tightened. He told himself to turn over, to block it out, but his body seemed rooted to the bed. The sounds were faint, indistinct, yet unmistakable. The rhythm of their movements, the stifled breaths—it was all too clear. His cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and something he couldn’t name.

Thomas lay frozen, his heart pounding as the muffled sounds from the other room grew more intense. Julian's breathy moans carried through the wall, punctuated by the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame. "Yes, like that," Julian whispered, his voice low and urgent. "Fuck me harder."

Thomas's face burned with shame, but he couldn't seem to tear his attention away. His imagination filled in the gaps, conjuring vivid images of Mark thrusting deep inside Julian, their bodies moving together in a passionate embrace. He pictured Julian's face, flushed with pleasure, his lips parted as he panted and gasped.

Despite himself, Thomas felt a stirring in his groin, a tightening sensation that made him squirm uncomfortably against the sheets. He was horrified by his body's reaction, disgusted with himself for being aroused by the intimate sounds of his son and son-in-law. And yet, he couldn't seem to stop listening, his ears straining to catch every breathy moan and whispered encouragement.

In the heat of the moment, the raw proximity of it, made his skin feel suddenly stifling against the fabric of his pajamas. The loose cotton clung uncomfortably to his damp skin, amplifying the sensations coursing through him. Without fully understanding why, Thomas sat up, his breathing shallow and erratic. He fumbled at the buttons of his pajama top, pushing it off his shoulders, letting it pool beside him on the bed.

His fingers moved to his waistband next. There was hesitation, a flicker of self-consciousness even though he was alone, but the sensation pressing against him was too overwhelming to ignore. Slowly, he slid his pajama bottoms down, letting them join the top on the mattress. The cool air brushed against his skin, eliciting a shiver as he lay back down, now bare beneath the dim light filtering through the curtains.

Thomas’ body, chubby and soft with a light sprinkle of silvery-gray body hair, was fully exposed to the quiet of the room. His broad chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, a light scattering of hair trailing down from his sternum to the gentle curve of his stomach. His limbs felt heavy, yet there was a strange liberation in the stillness.

Thomas lay there, his naked body trembling slightly in the cool night air, his attention still fixated on the muffled sounds of passion emanating from the other room. Julian's moans grew louder, more wanton, and Thomas could picture him writhing in ecstasy, his body glistening with sweat as Mark pounded into him.

Almost unconsciously, Thomas's hands began to wander over his own body, tracing the contours of his soft, plump frame. His fingers brushed over his chest, grazing his nipples, which stiffened at the touch. He circled them slowly, teasingly, shivering as sparks of pleasure radiated outwards.

One hand drifted lower, skimming over the gentle swell of his belly, fingers combing through the wiry gray hair that covered his skin. He could feel his arousal growing, his penis thickening and hardening against his thigh. The sensations were overwhelming, forbidden, and yet he couldn't seem to stop.

As Julian's cries of pleasure reached a crescendo, Thomas's hand found his now fully erect penis. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, marveling at the heat and hardness of it. It had been so long since he'd touched himself this way, so long since he'd felt this surge of desire.

He began to stroke, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his fist gliding up and down his length. His other hand continued to explore, pinching and rolling his nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. In his mind's eye, he pictured Julian and Mark, their bodies entwined, moving together in a dance of passion.

Thomas's breathing grew ragged, small gasps and moans escaping his lips as he lost himself in the sensations. His hips began to rock, thrusting up into his hand, the old mattress creaking beneath him. He could hear Mark's grunts and groans through the wall now, mingling with Julian's keening whimpers, the slap of flesh on flesh as their coupling reached its frenzied peak.

Thomas's hand moved faster over his penis, his grip tightening, his thumb swirling over the sensitive head with each upstroke. His balls drew up tight against his body, the pressure building at the base of his spine. He was close, so close, teetering on the brink of release.

And then, with a strangled cry, Julian reached his climax, his voice breaking on a shout of Mark's name. At almost the same moment, Thomas felt his own orgasm overtake him, his semen spurting over his fingers and splattering his belly in thick, hot pulses. His body shook with the force of it, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him, stealing his breath and his reason.

As the last tremors subsided, Thomas lay there panting, his softening penis still clasped in his hand, his chest heaving.

When the noises finally subsided, the silence that followed felt almost unbearable. Thomas lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts in turmoil. He wanted to feel anger or disgust, but what rose to the surface instead was something more complicated, something he couldn’t put into words.

Thomas kept these thoughts to himself. He told himself it was nothing, that he was simply adjusting to having people in the house again. But he began to withdraw, retreating into his routines. He spent more time in the garden or running errands, finding reasons to leave the house.

Mark noticed. “You’ve been quiet lately, Dad,” he said one evening as they sat in the living room. Julian had gone to bed early, and the house felt unusually still.

“I’m fine,” Thomas said quickly. “Just getting older, I suppose.”

Mark frowned but didn’t press.

After his son raised his concern, Thomas felt a tenseness that was almost painful. The conversation had left him feeling exposed, as though Mark could sense the storm inside him. That night, he found himself lying in bed, unable to sleep, his thoughts churning with confusion and unease. He couldn’t keep living this way—wound so tight it felt like his chest might burst.

He told himself he needed to relax, to unwind. The idea of a spa came to him—a simple indulgence, an inexpensive way to let go of the tension that had been gripping him. The next morning, over coffee, he pulled out his laptop and typed “cheap spas near me” into the search bar.

Scrolling through the results, his eyes landed on a site for a sauna in the city. It seemed unassuming enough at first glance, with photos of steam-filled rooms and promises of a rejuvenating experience. He barely noticed the undertones in the language—“an inviting escape for men of all walks of life” or the slightly suggestive poses of the models in the promotional images. What caught his attention was the low price and the promise of “old-world charm.”

Intrigued, Thomas scribbled down the address. A sauna would be perfect, he thought. A quick schvitz, just like the ones his father used to take him to when he was a boy. It had been decades since he’d set foot in one, but the memory felt comforting.

That afternoon, he drove into the city. The neighborhood was unfamiliar, a mix of old brick buildings and trendy cafés. The sauna’s exterior was discreet, almost nondescript, save for a small sign above the door. Thomas hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

The air was warm and faintly perfumed with eucalyptus. A man at the front desk greeted him with a friendly smile, handing him a towel and pointing him toward the locker room. Thomas felt a flicker of nervousness—he wasn’t used to this kind of thing anymore—but he brushed it aside.

Inside, the sauna was dimly lit, the soft hum of conversation mingling with the hiss of steam. He chose a corner bench, away from the clusters of men chatting quietly. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and let the heat seep into his skin, his muscles slowly unwinding.

For a while, it was exactly what he needed. He felt the tension melting away, his thoughts quieting. But then he opened his eyes, and his surroundings seemed to shift.

The atmosphere wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. Men lounged in towels, their laughter carrying a flirtatious edge. A pair stood close by the steam vent, their heads bent together in whispered conversation. Thomas noticed the way they looked at each other, the lingering touches. His pulse quickened, and he looked away, suddenly aware of the undercurrent running through the room.

His heart thudded as a realization began to dawn on him. This wasn’t just a sauna—it was a space charged with an energy he hadn’t anticipated, one he didn’t fully understand. He felt out of place, but there was a strange magnetism to the scene. Part of him wanted to leave, to retreat to the safety of his car, but another part—the part that had been restless, searching—kept him From leaving.

Thomas began to undress slowly, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Each article of clothing he removed felt like shedding a layer of armor. His nerves were heightened, every sound in the changing area seeming magnified—the shuffle of slippers on tile, the occasional laugh drifting through the door. His hesitation wavered slightly as he noticed the men around him, of all shapes and sizes, clad only in towels wrapped around their waists. Some were lean, others stocky or carrying more flesh, their bodies unapologetically exposed in the dim, humid air.

Clothes finally removed, Thomas wrapped a towel around his fleshy belly. His hands hovered for a moment, self-conscious about the soft curve of his midsection and the light scattering of gray hair across his chest and abdomen. He glanced at himself in the mirror—his 68-year-old reflection stared back, vulnerable yet determined. With a deep breath, he secured the towel tightly and stepped toward the steam room.

His heart thudded, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through him. The urge to retreat, to escape to the safety of his car, tugged at him insistently. Yet another part of him—the part that had been restless, searching for something undefined—kept him rooted to the spot.

Thomas moved further inside, letting the humid air envelop him. The steam clouded his vision slightly, muting the edges of the space and the people within it. He found a corner bench and sat down, the towel bunching slightly around his waist as he adjusted. The heat wrapped around him like a cocoon, loosening his tension but amplifying his awareness of his own body, his own skin.

He glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the easy camaraderie of the men. There was a freedom here, a sense of connection and expression he couldn’t fully name. His cheeks flushed as he let himself remain, curiosity overtaking his discomfort. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

As Thomas sat on the bench, trying to make sense of his surroundings, a man entered the sauna and took a seat beside him. He was middle-aged, like Thomas, with a relaxed demeanor and an easy smile. His presence was unassuming, yet there was something about his confidence that caught Thomas's attention.

"You’re new here, aren’t you?" the man said, his voice warm and conversational.

Thomas hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Is it that obvious?"

The man chuckled. "A little. But don’t worry about it. Everyone’s new somewhere." He extended a hand. "I’m Daniel."

"Thomas," he said, shaking Daniel’s hand. The gesture felt oddly intimate in the humid air.

"So, what brings you here, Thomas?" Daniel asked, leaning back against the wall.

Thomas hesitated again, unsure how much to reveal. "I… thought it might be a good way to relax. First time trying a place like this."

Daniel nodded, his expression understanding. "It’s a good choice. These places have a way of helping you unwind, clear your head." He paused, studying Thomas with an expression that was friendly but searching. "If you don’t mind me saying, you look like someone who could use a little unwinding."

Thomas let out a small, nervous laugh. "You’re not wrong."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the heat and steam enveloping them. Thomas found himself relaxing in Daniel’s presence, his initial discomfort ebbing away. There was something disarming about him—his calmness, his easy way of speaking.

"You know," Daniel said after a pause, "when I first started coming here, I didn’t know what to expect either. But it’s been… good for me. In more ways than one."

Thomas turned to him, curious. "How so?"

Daniel’s smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t I show you? There’s a private room in the back. We could talk more there. A little quieter, more comfortable."

Thomas felt his pulse quicken. The suggestion carried an undercurrent that was both intriguing and intimidating. He glanced at Daniel, who seemed entirely at ease, and then at the door Daniel had gestured toward.

After a moment’s hesitation, Thomas nodded. "Sure."

Daniel led the way, and Thomas followed, his heart pounding. The private room was small but inviting, with soft lighting and a bench covered in plush towels. Daniel closed the door behind them, the sound muffled by the steam.

"Take a seat," Daniel said, his tone still easy and warm. Thomas did as he was told, feeling both apprehensive and curious. Daniel sat beside him, closer now, their knees almost touching.

"Relax," Daniel said softly. "We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But if you’re open to it… I could help you explore a side of yourself you might not have given much thought to before."

Thomas’s breath hitched. He could feel the heat radiating from Daniel’s body, the closeness between them almost electrifying. "I… I don’t know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel reached out, his hand resting lightly on Thomas’s. The touch was gentle, reassuring. "It’s okay," he said. "We’ll take it slow. No pressure, no expectations. Just… trust me."

And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Thomas did.

Daniel’s hand slid from Thomas’s to rest lightly on his bare chest, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the humid air of the room. Thomas froze, his breath catching as Daniel’s fingers moved gently, tracing the faint lines of his skin. The touch was tender, unhurried, yet it sent a shockwave through him, stirring something deep and unfamiliar.

"Is this okay?" Daniel asked softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the sauna. His gaze met Thomas’s, open and patient, giving him a moment to respond.

Thomas’s throat felt dry. He managed a nod, though the motion was small and tentative. "Yes," he murmured, the word slipping out before he could overthink it.

Daniel smiled—a soft, reassuring smile that seemed to dissolve the last of Thomas’s reservations. Slowly, he leaned closer, his hand still resting on Thomas’s chest, now feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. Thomas’s eyes fluttered shut as Daniel’s lips brushed against his, a featherlight touch that sent a surge of warmth through his body.

The kiss deepened, Daniel’s other hand moving to cradle the side of Thomas’s face. It was slow at first, exploratory, as though Daniel were giving Thomas the space to acclimate to the unfamiliar intimacy. But as Thomas began to respond, tentatively at first and then with growing confidence, the kiss ignited a passion that surprised even him.

Thomas’s hands moved instinctively, one coming to rest on Daniel’s shoulder, the other clutching the edge of the bench for support. His lips parted under Daniel’s, and he felt the weight of years of restraint, of self-denial, slipping away. The sensation was overwhelming—Daniel’s warmth, the taste of his lips, the gentle yet insistent pressure of his mouth against Thomas’s.

A soft sound escaped Thomas, a mixture of surprise and desire. Daniel pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting together, both of them breathing heavily. "You’re doing fine," Daniel whispered, his voice steady and grounding.

Thomas opened his eyes, meeting Daniel’s gaze. "I… I didn’t think it would feel like this," he admitted, his voice shaky.

"Like what?" Daniel asked, his thumb brushing lightly against Thomas’s cheek.

"Right," Thomas said, almost to himself. His hand moved to cover Daniel’s, holding it against his chest as if anchoring himself. "Like something I’ve been waiting for, without even knowing it."

Daniel’s smile returned, a mix of understanding and quiet pride. "That’s the beauty of moments like this," he said, leaning in again, his lips grazing Thomas’s as he spoke. "You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just let yourself feel it."

And for the first time in what felt like years, Thomas let go.

Daniel's hands slid down Thomas's chest, fingers tracing the soft contours of his body. They lingered at the edge of the towel wrapped around Thomas's waist, teasing the fabric. Thomas shivered, his breath catching as Daniel's fingers dipped beneath the material, grazing the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen.

"May I?" Daniel asked, his voice low and gentle. Thomas, heart pounding, managed a nod. Slowly, reverently, Daniel unwrapped the towel, letting it fall away. Thomas stood exposed, his body bare to Daniel's gaze. He felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the heat in Daniel's eyes, the clear desire and appreciation.

Daniel stood, his own towel falling to the floor. Thomas's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Daniel's naked form - the lean lines of his body, the definition of his muscles, the proud jut of his erection. It was a body that spoke of confidence, of comfort in one's own skin. Thomas felt a pang of envy mixed with a surge of attraction.

They stood facing each other, the humid air of the sauna caressing their bare skin. Daniel reached out, his hand skimming over Thomas's chest, fingers circling a nipple. Thomas gasped at the touch, the sensation electric. Daniel leaned in, his lips replacing his fingers, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on Thomas's skin.

Thomas's hands came up to rest on Daniel's shoulders, fingers digging in as Daniel's mouth explored his chest, his belly, his hips. Each kiss, each lick, each nip of teeth sent sparks of pleasure racing through him. His own erection strained, aching for touch.

Daniel dropped to his knees, his face level with Thomas's groin. He looked up, meeting Thomas's gaze with a wicked grin. "I want to taste you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Will you let me?"

Thomas, barely able to speak, nodded. Daniel's hands gripped his hips, steadying him as he leaned forward and took Thomas into his mouth.

The wet heat was almost too much. Thomas cried out, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Daniel took him deeper, tongue swirling around the head of his penis, tracing the vein on the underside. It was a sensation unlike anything Thomas had ever felt before - intense, overwhelming, exquisite.

But then Daniel pulled off, leaving Thomas panting and desperate. "Your turn," Daniel said, rising to his feet. He guided Thomas down, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Thomas sank to his knees, face to face with Daniel's erection.

Up close, it was intimidating - larger than his own, thick and heavy. He looked up at Daniel uncertainly. "I've never..." he began.

Daniel smiled, his hand coming to rest on the back of Thomas's head. "It's okay," he said. "Just do what feels natural

Daniel's hand gently guided Thomas forward, encouraging him. "Start with your tongue," he instructed softly. "Lick from the base to the tip. Get a feel for it."

Thomas, heart pounding, leaned in and tentatively extended his tongue. He touched it to the base of Daniel's shaft, feeling the heat and the slight saltiness of his skin. Slowly, he dragged his tongue upward, tracing the thick vein, marveling at the smoothness and the way Daniel's erection twitched at his touch.

When he reached the head, he swirled his tongue around it, tasting the bead of precum that had formed at the tip. It was musky, slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. He found himself wanting more, his tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, eager for another taste.

Daniel groaned above him, his fingers tightening slightly in Thomas's hair. "That's it," he encouraged. "Now take it into your mouth. Slowly. Mind your teeth."

Thomas parted his lips, letting the head of Daniel's penis slide past them. It felt large, foreign, but not uncomfortable. He let his tongue explore, running it along the underside, feeling the ridge of the glans. He began to suck, gently at first, then with increasing confidence as Daniel's moans of pleasure spurred him on.

"Fuck, yes," Daniel breathed. "Just like that. You're a natural."

Emboldened, Thomas took him deeper, relaxing his throat to accommodate Daniel's length. He established a rhythm, his head bobbing up and down, his hand coming up to stroke what he couldn't fit into his mouth. Daniel's hips began to rock, gently thrusting into the wet heat of Thomas's mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of their passion - Daniel's gasps and moans, the wet slurping noises of Thomas's mouth on his flesh. Thomas found himself lost in the act, in the intimacy and the raw, carnal pleasure of it. His own erection throbbed between his legs, untouched but achingly hard.

After several intense minutes, Daniel gently pulled Thomas off. "I want to be inside you," he said, his voice rough with need. "Will you let me?"

Thomas, dazed with lust, nodded. Daniel helped him to his feet, then guided him to the bench. "Get on your hands and knees," he instructed.

Daniel gently guided Thomas to his hands and knees on the padded bench. Thomas trembled with anticipation and nervousness as he felt Daniel's hands caressing his plump buttocks, squeezing and kneading the soft, pliant flesh.

"You have such a beautiful body," Daniel murmured appreciatively, his fingers trailing down the cleft between Thomas's cheeks. Thomas shivered at the unfamiliar yet electrifying touch.

He heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and the snap of a bottle cap. Slick fingers probed at his entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle. Thomas gasped and tensed instinctively.

"Shh, relax," Daniel soothed. "I'll go slow. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Gradually, Thomas willed himself to unclench, focusing on the soothing timbre of Daniel's voice and the gentle pressure of his fingers. One digit breached him, sliding in carefully. It felt strange, invasive, but not painful. Daniel worked the finger in and out, letting Thomas adjust to the new sensation.

Soon, a second finger joined the first, stretching and scissoring. Thomas whimpered at the increased fullness, his body torn between resisting the intrusion and craving more. By the time Daniel had three fingers pumping steadily inside him, Thomas was rocking back onto the digits, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin.

Daniel withdrew his fingers, leaving Thomas feeling empty and aching. But then he felt the blunt head of Daniel's latex-sheathed erection pressing against his loosened hole.

With a steady pressure, Daniel began to push forward, the thick head of his penis breaching the tight ring of muscle. Thomas cried out at the stretch and burn, his hands fisting in the towel beneath him. Daniel paused, giving him a moment to adjust.

"Breathe," Daniel instructed gently, rubbing soothing circles on Thomas's lower back. "Bear down against me."

Thomas did as he was told, forcing himself to relax and push out slightly. Slowly, impossibly, he felt Daniel's length sliding deeper, inch by inch, until Daniel's hips were flush against his buttocks.

He felt so full, impaled on Daniel's throbbing hardness. It was a feeling of completeness he'd never known he craved. For a moment, they stayed like that, both adjusting to the intense new connection.

Then, Daniel began to move. He pulled out slowly until just the tip remained inside, then pushed forward again in one long, smooth stroke. Thomas moaned at the drag of Daniel's penis along his inner walls, the sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt.

Daniel's hips pistoned back and forth, his thick shaft plunging deep into Thomas's eager hole with each powerful thrust. The private room echoed with the slap of flesh against flesh, punctuated by Thomas's wanton moans and the low grunts of Daniel's exertion.

"Oh God, yes!" Thomas cried out, all inhibition lost in the heat of the moment. His plump body jiggled and quaked, ripples cascading across his belly and chest as Daniel pounded him relentlessly from behind.

Daniel obliged, slamming into him with renewed vigor, the force of his thrusts scooting Thomas forward on the bench. He gripped Thomas's hips bruisingly tight, using the leverage to pull the older man back onto his cock, impaling him over and over on his rigid length.

Thomas's prostate sang with pleasure each time Daniel's thick cock head scraped past it, sending jolts of ecstasy sparking up his spine. His own neglected erection bobbed heavily beneath him, slapping against his belly with each jolt forward, smearing precum across his sweat-dampened skin.

For a fleeting moment, Thomas's pleasure-addled brain flashed to his son-in-law, wondering if this was what Julian felt when Mark took him - this exquisite fullness, this sense of being utterly claimed and possessed. But the thought was quickly banished, lost in the overwhelming reality of his own experience, of Daniel's thick shaft stretching him wide and plundering his depths.

"That's it, take it," Daniel growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. "Take my cock like you were made for it."

And in that moment, it felt true. Thomas's body yielded to the onslaught, welcoming each rough thrust, clenching greedily around the hard flesh splitting him open. Each drag of Daniel's erection along his inner walls stoked the fire building in his core, pushing him closer to the edge.

Daniel shifted the angle of his hips, and suddenly he was hammering directly into Thomas's sweet spot with unerring accuracy. Thomas saw stars, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as the pleasure crested and broke over him in wave after crashing wave.

His untouched cock jerked and pulsed, painting the bench beneath him with streak after streak of pearly essence. His passage clamped down vice-tight around Daniel, the rhythmic squeezing pulling the other man over the brink with him.

Daniel's hips slammed against Thomas's buttocks in a frenzied rhythm, each powerful thrust driving his thick shaft deep into the older man's clenching heat. Thomas moaned wantonly, his plump body quivering and jiggling as he was pounded relentlessly from behind. The private room reverberated with the lewd slap of flesh on flesh and the guttural sounds of their shared passion.

"You feel incredible," Daniel growled, fingers digging into the generous flesh of Thomas's hips as he pistoned in and out. "So tight."

Thomas could only whimper in response, too lost in the overwhelming sensations to form coherent words. His own neglected erection throbbed heavily between his legs, bobbing and leaking with each jolt of Daniel's hips against his prostate.

Suddenly, Daniel's thrusts slowed, became more deliberate. He leaned over Thomas's back, chest pressed to sweat-dampened skin, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Do you want to taste me, Thomas?" he purred, voice low and rough with arousal. "Do you want to feel me come in your mouth?"

Thomas, mind hazy with lust, found himself nodding eagerly before he'd even fully processed the question. The thought of tasting Daniel's essence, of being marked by it inside and out, sent a fresh surge of desire coursing through his veins.

With a fluid grace, Daniel withdrew from Thomas's body, leaving him feeling empty and aching. But before Thomas could mourn the loss, Daniel was guiding him up and off the bench, turning him around so they were face to face.

Daniel's eyes were dark with hunger as he took in the sight of Thomas - flushed and panting, lips swollen from biting back his cries of pleasure. With a gentle but insistent pressure on his shoulders, Daniel guided Thomas to his knees.

Thomas found himself once again at eye level with Daniel's impressive erection, now glistening with a mixture of lube and his own anal secretions. The musky, intimate scent filled his nostrils, making his mouth water with anticipation.

"Open up," Daniel instructed, one hand coming to rest on the back of Thomas's head. "Stick out your tongue."

Thomas obeyed, letting his jaw fall slack, tongue extending to lap at the swollen head of Daniel's penis. The flavor burst across his taste buds - salt and bitterness and something uniquely Daniel. He savored it, swirling his tongue around the ridge of the glans, dipping into the weeping slit.

Daniel groaned, fingers tightening reflexively in Thomas's hair. "Fuck yes, just like that," he encouraged, hips rocking shallowly, smearing his essence across Thomas's eager tongue. "Get ready, I'm close..."

Thomas opened wide, allowing Daniel to slide into the welcoming wetness of his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks, providing a tight seal as he began to suck in earnest, tongue swirling and laving the thick shaft. Above him, Daniel groaned in appreciation, hips starting to rock in shallow thrusts.

"That's it, take it deep," Daniel encouraged breathlessly, fingers tangling in Thomas's silver hair. He began to thrust faster, the head of his cock bumping the back of Thomas's throat with each snap of his hips.

Thomas relaxed his jaw, fighting his gag reflex as he took Daniel impossibly deeper. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from the strain, but he was too intoxicated by lust to care. He wanted to take all of Daniel, to drink down every drop of his essence.

He brought his hands up to grip Daniel's taut buttocks, kneading the firm globes as he pulled the other man closer, urging him to fuck his face with abandon. Daniel took the cue, pistoning in and out of the tight channel of Thomas's throat, grunts of pleasure falling from his lips.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Daniel panted, rhythm growing erratic.

Thomas, unable to speak, hummed his assent around Daniel's plunging length, the vibrations pushing the other man over the edge. With a strangled cry, Daniel thrust deep and stilled, cockhead nestled in the fluttering grip of Thomas's throat.

Thomas felt Daniel's cock pulse once, twice, and then he was coming, hot jets of semen splashing the back of Thomas's tongue. The taste was salty and slightly bitter, but to Thomas it was ambrosia. He swallowed greedily, throat working to milk every drop from Daniel's spurting slit.

The erotic sensation of Daniel's release filling his mouth, coupled with the filthy wet sounds of his swallowing, pushed Thomas to his own peak. Pulling on his erection caused the painting of his soft belly with ropey strands of pearly essence. He moaned around Daniel's softening cock, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Finally, Daniel slipped free of Thomas's lips with a wet pop. He dropped to his knees, pulling Thomas into a deep, messy kiss, uncaring of the taste of himself on the other man's tongue. They stayed like that for long minutes, trading lazy, sated kisses as their heart rates gradually slowed.

When they finally parted, Daniel reached for a towel, gently wiping the mess from Thomas's chest and belly. Then he retrieved a pen from his discarded pants pocket and scribbled a number on Thomas's palm.

"Call me," he said with a wink.

Thomas, still dazed, could only nod mutely. Soon, Thomas wobbled his way over to the showers.

Thomas stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water wash over him. His skin was flushed, his heart still racing from the intimacy he had just shared with Daniel. A swirl of emotions churned within him—nervousness, exhilaration, and something dangerously close to peace. As the steam swirled around him, he exhaled deeply, centering himself.

He dressed quickly, his movements deliberate as he pulled on his shirt and slacks. When he stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze on his face was sobering. The world outside seemed so ordinary, a stark contrast to the upheaval within him. Thomas began walking toward his car, each step steady, as though he could convince himself everything was normal.

But as he reached the curb, he froze.

Mark and Julian were standing across the street, laughing together as they waited for the light to change. Julian saw him first, his expression shifting from delight to curiosity, then to surprise. Mark followed his gaze and turned, his smile faltering as his eyes locked on Thomas.

"Dad?" Mark called, his tone laced with disbelief.

Thomas stiffened, the color draining from his face. He glanced back at the building he’d just exited, suddenly all too aware of the glowing neon sign above the door. His heart sank as he saw Mark’s expression shift, the pieces falling into place.

Mark’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. Thomas opened his mouth, but no words came. The thought of lying was futile, and they both knew it.

Mark crossed the street in a few quick strides, Julian trailing behind him. When they reached him, Mark studied Thomas with an expression that was equal parts bewilderment and concern. "I—" Thomas started, but his voice faltered. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wasn’t expecting to see you two here."

"Clearly," Mark said, glancing at the sauna. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Julian placed a hand on his shoulder, a calming gesture.

Thomas sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Let’s not do this here," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Julian smiled softly. "We were just on our way to the bar around the corner," he said, his tone gentle, offering a lifeline. "Maybe we could talk there?"

Mark hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

The three of them walked in silence, the city’s hum filling the gaps between them. The bar was warm and inviting, its energy vibrant but not overwhelming. They found a quiet corner, Julian ordering drinks while Mark and Thomas sat across from each other.

When the drinks arrived, Thomas took a long sip of his beer before speaking. "I’m not sure how to explain this," he began, his hands wrapped tightly around the glass. "I didn’t… plan for any of this to happen. It’s all new to me."

Mark frowned, his expression softening. "You don’t have to explain everything, Dad. I just—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I guess I wasn’t expecting this. It’s a lot to take in."

Julian placed a hand on Mark’s arm, a silent reassurance. "It’s new for him too, Mark," he said gently. "And honestly, it’s kind of brave."

Thomas looked up, his eyes meeting Julian’s. "Brave?" he echoed, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"To go somewhere like that. To explore something you’ve clearly never let yourself before." Julian smiled. "It’s not easy to confront those parts of yourself."

Mark let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Leave it to you, Julian, to find the silver lining."

Thomas allowed himself a small smile. "I don’t know about brave. Confused, maybe. Scared, definitely."

"That’s okay," Mark said after a moment. "I guess we’ve all been there, in our own way."

They fell into an easier rhythm after that, the initial awkwardness giving way to something more honest. They didn’t solve everything that night—there were still questions, still uncertainties—but they shared their drinks and their stories, and for the first time in a long time, Thomas didn’t feel so alone.

As they left the bar together, Julian slung an arm around Mark’s shoulders, and Mark glanced at his father with a quiet smile. "Let’s figure this out together, Dad," he said, his voice steady. "Whatever this means for you."

Thomas nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in years. "I’d like that," he said softly as they walked into the night, the city buzzing around them.