Ryan and Danny move together with deliberate precision—hands matching hands, breath syncing to breath—until the difference between wanting and acting disappears.
There’s no rush, no uncertainty, no pretending this is anything other than mutual.
This isn’t experimentation.
It’s alignment—of bodies, of desire, of a truth Ryan can no longer talk himself out of.
In the last installment of Muscle Memory…
The room feels impossibly quiet, like even the walls are holding their breath.
My hands tremble just slightly as I reach for the hem of my shirt. I peel it off slowly, the cotton catching for a second on the back of my neck before sliding free. I hesitate at the waistband of my shorts, eyes flicking up to Danny one last time.
He doesn’t say anything. Just softens his expression and nods once.
The shorts come down. Then the briefs. I’m standing there—bare, uncertain, and somehow brave as hell. My skin flushes pink across my chest and down my arms, but I don’t look away. Not this time.
Danny lets his gaze move over me—slow, deliberate, and filled with something warmer than lust. Admiration. Reverence.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, so quietly it barely counts as sound.
I swallow.
He steps forward, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.
I lift my hand, hovering just a few inches from his chest, unsure if I’m allowed.
He reaches up gently, takes my hand, and guides it to rest against his chest—right over his heart.
Then he mirrors me, placing his palm softly against mine, on my chest, the touch so light it feels like breath.
We stand like that for a moment, our chests rising and falling beneath each other’s hands.
My fingers move first, tracing the smooth curve of his pecs, following the slope down to his ribs. He mirrors me, each motion matched with unhurried care.
When my hand glides along the side of his waist and around to his lower back, his mirrored hand does the same. Our fingers drift lower, sliding over the curve of each other’s asses.
We both laugh—quiet, breathless, almost embarrassed at how synchronized it all is.
Then the laughter fades.
My hand slips around, slow and certain, and I wrap it around his cock.
