Chapter 17: Bashir
The deep, dreamless void finally released him. Josh blinked, disoriented. Pale Saturday morning light filtered through the high mezzanine windows, painting stripes across the rumpled white sheets. 7:30 AM. Perfect. Later than usual. The chemical exhaustion from last night’s workout and subsequent solo trip still clung to his bones, a pleasant, heavy ache. He stretched, joints popping, the thick muscles of his chest and arms rippling under the sparse blonde hair. Yeah, he’d definitely fucked himself good last night. A satisfied grunt escaped him.
He rolled onto his back, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. The harsh blue light momentarily blinded him. He navigated automatically. Reddit: a scroll through niche fitness forums, checking for new pics of promising physiques – thick traps, dense pecs, heavy quads. Then X. His private feed was a curated gallery of male beauty: bodybuilders mid-pump, sweat-slicked skin gleaming; amateur shots of guys with impossibly thick dicks resting on hairy abs; close-ups of dark, glistening holes. He lingered on one: a latino guy, sprawled naked on a weight bench, his thick, uncut cock lying heavily on his thigh, a bead of pre-cum glistening on the swollen head. Josh’s own cock twitched lazily against his thigh. He saved the pic. Potential inspiration. He scrolled more, occasionally zooming in, appreciating the raw, unfiltered carnality. A low thrum of arousal stirred, familiar and manageable. Bashir at 11. Plenty of time.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool air hitting his skin. No rush. He padded naked to the kitchen, the polished concrete floor soothing under his bare feet. The lingering scent of sex, lube, and weed from last night’s debauchery was faint but present, mixing with the cleaner smell of the air conditioning. He brewed strong black coffee, the rich aroma cutting through everything else. He leaned against the counter, sipping the scalding liquid, letting the caffeine kickstart his system, watching the city slowly wake up below. He felt loose. Unburdened. No new people to manage today. Just his own rhythm.
After the coffee, he pulled on soft, loose-fitting grey cotton pants and an equally soft, stretched-out white t-shirt that clung slightly to his thick upper body. Comfortable. Easy. He cleaned the kitchen meticulously, wiped down the bathroom surfaces from last night, and spent a long time on the matts in his gym, stretching and releasing the efforts of the day before. Back in the bedroom, he ran his fingers through his hair. He always looked forward to Bashir's treatments.
The buzzer sounded precisely at 11:00 AM. Sharp. Professional. Josh hit the intercom. "Yeah?"
"Mr. Josh? Bashir." The voice was smooth, deep, accented.
"Come on up." Josh released the door. He opened the front door, looking down the hall as the elevator doors slid open.
Bashir walked towards him, the soft light of the hallway highlighting the rich tones of his skin. The simple black t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and muscular chest, the dark fabric emphasizing the lean lines of his physique. Loose black pants hung low on his hips, hinting at the powerful thighs beneath. His features were distinctly South Asian, with dark, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief. A neatly trimmed beard framed his strong jawline, adding to his air of confident masculinity. His dark hair was cropped short, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. The warmth of his complexion, combined with his confident smile, created an irresistible magnetism.