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.
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CHAPTER THREE - COLLATERAL
The next few days blurred together.
Nothing major happened. Not really. The touching remained constant. More casual. Noah kept spotting him like they'd been gym buddies for years. Of course it was his job as a trainer: He'd grip his lower back, sometimes his thigh when adjusting Liam's posture. It just wasn't weird anymore.
Noah texted more too. Little things:
[Noah: "you hitting the gym today?"]
[Noah: "i swear imma hit my boss today, dude."]
[Noah: "saw some dude trying your wrist form. he's doing it wrong lmao."]
Liam never initiated. Not once. But when the texts came, he always replied. Always. It really felt like they were friends. and it was a nice change, human contact, you know?
Camila, on the other hand, had basically vanished. A cold "Busy." once. A "Talk later." another time. Nothing more. Liam stopped checking his phone for her. Stopped caring as much.
And somewhere along the way, he started looking forward to gym afternoons. Not just for the training. For the familiarity. For how it made his head shut the fuck up for a while.
One Thursday night, as Liam was racking up after a brutal arm day, Noah passed him by in his way to dump a bunch of used mats somewhere else:
"You doing anything Saturday?" he asked, casual.
"Uh... not really."
Noah grinned, wiping his jawline. "Parents are out of town. Thinking of throwing a party. Chill shit. You should come."
Liam hesitated. Social stuff wasn't really his scene. But before he could answer, Noah added--soft, like it was no big deal,
"Be good for you. Loosen up. Meet a few people. C'mon, man. Can't just gym and work forever."
That hit. A little too close to the truth.
"Yeah. Alright," Liam said, nodding. "Sure."
Noah's smile widened. "Bet. Bring whatever you want to drink. Starts around eight."
He clapped Liam's back--firm and friendly. "It'll be fun. Promise."
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Liam pulled up just past eight. The street was dead quiet. Porch light on. No crowd. No music thumping. Not exactly the "party" vibe he'd pictured. But whatever. He wasn't about to back out now. He headed up and knocked once before nudging the door open.
Inside was calm. Too calm. Low hip-hop from somewhere deeper in the house. Lights dim. Smelled like weed, and something almost woodsy--probably whatever candle Noah had burning.
Noah appeared from the kitchen in a loose tank and shorts. A little flushed, like he'd been running around setting things up.
"Yo!" His grin was bright. "You made it."
"Yeah." Liam stepped inside, hands in his pockets.
Noah looked past him like he expected more. "Didn't bring anything?"
Liam blinked. "Nah... I don't really drink."
Noah grinned, shaking his head. "Okay, see--I told you to bring something because I didn't think you'd be that guy. The 'I don't really drink' guy." He pointed toward the kitchen. "Don't worry. I'll fix that."
Liam smirked, a little defensive but playing along. "Didn't realize there was an entrance exam for your fake party."
"Oh shit." Noah grinned wider. "Look at you. Finally giving me some attitude."
For once, Liam didn't overthink it. It was easy. Comfortable. Fun even.
Noah nodded toward the back room. "C'mon. Everyone's out back."
Liam followed him into what looked like the den. But... it was empty. Two chairs. A low couch. Coffee table with a grinder, a wrap, and a half-rolled blunt.
Liam paused. "Where is everyone?"
Noah shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Couple bailed. Other dudes had some shit to do. You know how people are." He flopped down on the couch, grabbed the wrap, and finished rolling it. "Don't worry. People've been trickling in. We'll probably meet up with them later or something."
Liam nodded slowly. Something felt off but... whatever.
"You ever smoke?" Noah asked, licking the paper shut.
"Uh. No." He answered honestly.
Noah's eyes shot up. "Never? Like--not even once?"
"No."
"Dude. How? Aren't you, like, a hundred?"
Liam cracked a real grin. "Shouldn't you respect your elders then?"
"Guess so." Noah flopped down onto the couch, kicking off his sneakers. His socks hit the floor with a soft thud.
The second he did, the air changed. Liam caught the sharp, heavy scent of sweat--Noah's. Not just gym sweat. Stale, masculine, ripe.
His throat burned.
"Dude," Liam muttered before he could stop himself. "Your feet fucking reek".
Noah smiled without looking over. "Yeah, man. I had a run earlier. Didn't shower. You'll get used to it."
Then, as if it was nothing, Noah grabbed the blunt and lit it. He took a slow drag, then passed it over.
Liam took the blunt, feeling weirdly nervous. He hesitated, then brought it to his lips, copying what he'd seen in a thousand movies. Big inhale.
Fuck maybe that was too big.
The smoke hit his throat like fire. He coughed hard, nearly doubled over, eyes watering instantly.
"Shit--" he rasped.
Noah was already laughing, reaching over to pat his back. "Knew that was coming. Rookie mistake."
Liam waved him off, still coughing.
"Here." Noah grabbed a plastic solo cup off the table. "Drink. Now."