Gaslighting Liam

SERIES: GASLIGHTING LIAM

(college, mast, big cock, auth, sub, jock, teasing, manipulation, cum denial, humiliation, feet, sweat, mindfuck, gym, gooning, straight to gay, pheromones, primal, sloppy, edging, condescension, anal orgasm, big sub small top, piss, cum play, brainwashing, public sex, armpit)

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of FICTION - any similarity to actual people or events is entirely coincidental. This work is not to be reproduced in any manner without prior approval from the author. Also, please, save and comment, reach out with suggestions, commentary, feedback and compliments(?) lmao.

Thank you so much for all the love and feedback, it really motivates me to keep up! This chapter heats up considerably but chapter three is where things really take a turn, stay tuned!!

CHAPTER TWO - TOWEL

He stared at the screen, heart ticking in his chest.

What the fuck was that text? Who even says shit like that? It should've weirded him out more. And it did--kind of. But at the same time... wasn't that just how guys joked? He didn't really have guy friends. Not like that. Maybe this was just what male friendship looked like--crude, invasive, sweaty.

And with Camila gone, the apartment was too quiet. Weekends dragged. It was either this or jerk off again and scroll through the same three group chats he never replied to. At least at the gym, he'd sweat something out.

But as the screen dimmed in his hand, the thought slipped in.

Still, Noah knew that happened. The sweat. The spot. The way Liam didn't move. He remembered it. The whole fucking time--Noah had been walking around all week, nodding at him, brushing shoulders, offering tips like he hadn't stood over him and dripped onto his face.

Liam felt his jaw tighten. His stomach twist. It wasn't anger exactly. It was... something sour. Embarrassment? He didn't even know. All he knew was he should've said no. Or told him off. Or anything that didn't involve doing what he did next.

[Liam: "uh"]

[Liam: "sure"]

[Liam: "i guess i could use the workout"]

He hit send. Shame burning up.

[Noah: "awesome"]

[Noah: "be there at noon, don't be late"]

With that last text, he set the phone down beside him, face down on the mattress. The glow faded, but the weight of the whole fucking thing was still there.

Liam exhaled through his nose, trying to shake it off, but something felt wrong. His heart was thudding too fast. His mouth was dry. And--

What...

He glanced down and felt his stomach drop. His cock was not just hard--it was obscene.

Pressed up against his lower stomach, flushed blood-red at the head, pumping out a constant river of precum just below his belly button. It throbbed in pulses. His hips were already twitching--barely. Micro-movements. Like his body was begging to fuck something.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands.

It had to be Camila. Had to be. He'd been thinking about her. She turned him on. She always had. That look she gave him when she got on top. That way she--

But nothing came to mind.

No real images. No fantasy. Just noise. And none of it explained why his dick was this hard. It felt fucking crazy. Like it had its own heartbeat.

Noah's message echoed in his skull.

Don't get in your head about it. Wasn't that what this was? Just guy shit. Locker room energy. Fucking banter.

He groaned, rolled to his side and back again, then gave up.

He stared at the pool of pre-cum and dragged his hand straight through the mess, palms deep. Then slicked up the head first, slow and deliberate, and then he squeezed.

Liam groaned like a wounded dog. Low and guttural.

His hips jerked up off the bed.

His hand dropped down, wrapping his cock from tip to base. Stroking hard. Sloppy. The sound was nasty. Sticky and wet. The whole room stank of sweat, precum, and sex. The slick sounds of his fist working up and down his cock filled the room also.

Everything was soaked. His dick, his hand, his abs, his wrist. Cum was already bubbling in his shaft and he hadn't even been at it for sixty seconds. His balls were heavy and tight, aching, thighs twitching.

His strokes got faster. Sloppier. The noises louder. His breath was ragged. Thighs flexing. Heels digging into the bed.

He was close. He was gonna cum. Fuck yeah he was gonna cum.

And that's when it hit him. Out of fucking nowhere.

The image--sharp and sudden.

Noah.

The arm lifted. The damp scent. The heat. The way his pit hovered over Liam's face. The sweat that dropped. The contact. The indifference.

And he fucking knew the whole time.

And Liam hadn't moved... Hadn't even said a fucking word.

His cock pulsed in his fist like it loved that. Like it was grateful.

His breath caught, moaning. His whole body buzzed--testosterone, humiliation, fear? He felt stupid, used, turned on in the dumbest fucking way. He could feel it boiling up in him like he was about to explode.

His brain started screaming--

No no no no no no not like this--fuck--don't cum to this shit, please, please, don't you fucking--

But it was done.

His whole body seized. Back arched, toes curled, cock jerking violently in his hand. He groaned--loud, guttural, fucked up--and came like he'd been edged for days. Thick ropes shot out of his slit all the way to his stomach, across his wrist, even on his neck. He kept stroking through it like he was trying to drain every drop. He couldn't stop.

All the while picturing Noah's fucking sweaty pit.

Liam lay there frozen, chest going up and down, fist still around his hard cock.

Cum was everywhere--his stomach, his hand, his chest, his face. He could feel it cooling already, sticky against his skin, and the second his brain caught up to what just happened, a wave of disgust hit like a punch.

"What the actual fuck..."

He rolled to the side, wiping his wrist on the sheets, hand trembling, breath still uneven. He couldn't even look at himself. Couldn't believe he just did that. Came that hard. That fast. To that. Intrusive motherfucking thoughts.

He sat up quick, wiping his face with the edge of the sheet like it'd erase the whole thing.

"Jesus Christ..." he muttered under his breath. He felt gross. Not just physically--mentally. Like something inside him had short-circuited and now he had to sit with it.

It was just stress. He told himself that. Just backed-up frustration. Camila's absence. Too much tension. Not enough release. That was all it was. That's why it happened. That's why he got off so fast. That's why--

His eyes drifted to the phone.

Noah's name. That last text.

[Noah: be there at noon, don't be late]

A cold pulse ran through him.

He knew. That little shit knew the whole time. And he still texted him like it was nothing. Like Liam hadn't sat there and let it happen. Like Liam wasn't the one who let some kid drip sweat on him and had just taken it, quiet.

He rubbed his face hard, trying to scrub cum as well as the thought out of his brain.

Time passed and by midnight, he'd convinced himself it wasn't that deep. He'd just been really fucking horny. That's it.

He wasn't gonna spiral about some dumb one-off intrusive crap. He wasn't into guys. He wasn't into trainers. And he sure as hell wasn't into getting sweat on. It was just a fluke. A weird mix of hormones and boredom and too much damn alone time.

He jerked off again around 2 a.m.--normal this time. Just to porn. Just to get it out. When he came, it didn't feel like victory. But at least it didn't feel like the fucking apocalypse. He wiped off, rolled over, and forced himself to sleep.

He woke up late. Still no text from Camila.

Whatever.

He took a cold shower--long, bracing. Got dressed without thinking too hard about anything. Threw on a tank, grabbed his bag, and headed out. No playlist. No breakfast. Just autopilot.

The gym was already buzzing when he walked in. A few guys at the racks, the usuals at cardio. Reception was manned by some girl Liam didn't recognize.

And Noah--of course--was leaning over the counter, laughing at something she said. Hand on the desk, other brushing his hair back. His shirt was already damp at the collar, hanging off his frame like he'd been at it for a while.

He slowed just a second. Noah looked over, saw him, and lit up like they were best fucking friends.

"Yo," he called out. "Lemme finish here--I'll meet you in like two, alright?"

He said it with a smile. Liam gave a short nod and kept walking.

It didn't really bother him. Not exactly. Just... weird. He'd been the one invited. Now he was standing around like he had nowhere else to be.

Whatever.

He dropped his bag near the racks and started stretching, pretending not to glance back.

Noah finished up at the counter and walked over, tossing his phone into his bag without looking back.

"Sorry about that." His voice was warm, casual. No hint of the earlier delay. "You good?"

Liam nodded. "Yeah."

Noah smiled. "Cool. Let's get moving before the racks get crowded."

The transition was easy. Noah grabbed a pair of plates and set them up like they'd been doing this together for weeks. Just focused, efficient and social they moved through stretches and warm-up sets.

And for once? Liam didn't feel out of place with him.

When he hit the first real working set, Noah stood nearby, arms crossed, watching his form.

"Good," he said. "Weight's solid. That's a good load for your build."

Liam didn't mean to--but a small surge of pride went through him. Not because Noah was flattering him. Just because it felt earned. Like someone actually noticed the work he'd been putting in.

They kept going. The workout rolled smooth. No awkward moments. Just clean reps and quiet focus. Noah gave short, clear cues when needed. Adjusted Liam's grip once or twice. Always light touches. Liam also spotted when Noah asked which made him feel useful.

They were finishing benchpress sets when the girl Noah was talking to walked by them, clearly flirting with Noah.

Liam actually noticed it first but Noah saw her right after. He smirked, lowering his voice. "That's Ashley."

Liam followed his gaze, giving a polite nod when she glanced over.

"Trying to hit that," Noah added, casual as hell. Like they were two guys at a bar.

Liam blinked. "Oh."

Noah laughed, wiping his hands on his shorts. "Yeah. Teases like crazy. Last week she literally wore these leggings with--" he paused, glancing around, then lowered his voice. "--the seam that rides right up, you know?"

Liam didn't answer. He knew exactly what Noah meant.

Noah grinned. "Couldn't stop staring at her ass. She knows what she's doing." He leaned in just a bit. "Had me half hard spotting her squats. Not gonna lie."

Liam nodded, not sure what else to say. The conversation felt normal. Guys talked like this all the time.

They moved into the next exercise--pull-ups. Liam wasn't bad at them, but he usually kept to moderate sets. Today, Noah pushed.

"C'mon, man. We're not stopping at eight," Noah said, stepping in behind him. His tone was light, almost teasing. "You've got ten in you easy."

By rep seven, Liam's arms were burning. Eight was shaky. Nine felt like death. On ten, he barely cleared the bar before dropping down with a heavy breath.

"Fuck..." he muttered, shaking his arms out.

Noah grinned. "Knew it. Knew you had it." His hand landed lightly on Liam's lower back. "See? Just needed a little push."

Liam exhaled hard then chuckled, still catching his breath. "Yeah. Guess so."

Noah kept his hand there. Firm. Solid.

"Most guys won't push you like that," he said, tone still friendly. "Don't wanna overstep. Or they just don't give a shit." He squeezed Liam's back once. "I do." And winked teasing.

Then he stepped back like it was nothing.

The whole workout was about a little more than an hour. They ended up wrapping up with some core work and stretches.

For the first time in a while, Liam felt... good. Not just physically. Mentally. He didn't feel judged. Didn't feel out of place. Noah had been cool. Supportive. He hadn't even noticed the time passing.

As they were wiping down the last bench, Liam cleared his throat. "Hey... uh. Today was good. Never really had a gym partner before. Definitely felt the difference."

Noah grinned wide. "Anytime, man. Seriously."

Noah grabbed his bag and nodded toward the locker room. "Let's hit the showers. I'm heading out with Ashley after this--tryin' to get some today." He laughed.

The locker room was cooler than the gym floor, but humid. The sharp, heavy smell of sweat and men clung to the air. A couple guys were packing up near the far wall, but otherwise it was quiet.

Liam sat on the bench, toeing off his sneakers, peeling his socks off. The bench creaked softly beneath him. His towel was still rolled up in his gym bag. He wondered what he was going to do for the rest of the day, maybe work, he guessed, nothing was going on anyway.

Noah stood a few lockers down, already stripped to just a towel slung low around his hips. His skin still glistened faintly from the workout, the soft gym lights catching on the fresh sweat clinging to his abs and cutting down over the sharp V at his hips.

Liam wasn't even looking at first. Just moving slow, cooling off. The workout had been exhausting.

But when he glanced up, his eyes naturally drifted. First to the sweat across Noah's ribs. Then the deep line of his V. Then--

He froze.

The towel.

It wasn't flat. Wasn't even close. A massive outline pressed against the fabric, heavy and thick, riding up along the side of Noah's body instead of lying down. The head of his cock pushed so far out that it actually pointed away from his hip, angled toward the open space between them. Like it didn't fit behind the towel at all.

Liam's breath stalled. What...

The shape was fucking obscene. This was no casual half-chub. The ridge of the head was clearly outlined, the shaft thick as hell, stretching the towel to its limit. His cock had to be hard the entire time they'd been changing. No way that just happened now.

Liam's stomach twisted. His thighs tensed without thinking.

And still--he stared. It wasn't his fault though, it wasn't possible not to stare at that fucking thing. His eyes locked there, brain scrambling to catch up, but his gaze stayed. Following the curve. Taking in every inch.

"Big, huh?" Noah's voice came easy. Warm. A little too amused. "But my eyes are up here."

Liam's head snapped up fast, neck stiff, face heating so quick it felt like his skin might peel off.

His mouth opened automatically. "Uh--sorry, I--"

"Chill, man." Noah cut in smoothly, completely unbothered. Like he hadn't even heard the stammer. Like Liam's embarrassment didn't register. "Been thinking about all the shit I'm gonna do to that slut when I get to her place."

He chuckled, shaking his head like it was just a regular bro thing. "Didn't mean to put on a show for you."

Noah grabbed his shower caddy and turned toward the stalls, towel still pitched out shamelessly, swaying slightly as he walked.

Liam didn't move. His brain was still catching up, breath shallow.

'Shit. I shouldn't have stared. That was--'

But fuck, it was right there. What was he supposed to do? Pretend he didn't see it? That'd be weirder, right?

He scrubbed a hand down his face, shaking his head. Get it together, man.

A cold shower helped. Not as much as it should've, but it got the job done. He focused on rinsing fast, avoiding the mirror as much as possible.

When he came out, towel slung over his shoulders, Noah was already dressed, pulling his bag strap up.

"Later, dude," Noah called out, easy. Friendly. Like nothing had happened. Like the towel scene had already left his mind. Good.

"Yeah. See you," Liam muttered, grabbing his hoodie and keys.

He finished changing and headed toward the front. Just in time to see Noah at the gym's entrance--Ashley at his side. She was laughing, leaning into him like she was in a gravity well, and Noah's hand was casually, confidently grabbing a full handful of her ass as they walked toward her car.

Noah wasn't even looking at her. Alpha as fuck.