Heatwave: Fonsi, Ralph & Others On Vacation

[Mango24]

Was playing around with AI writing and thought this result (from many adjustments) may tickle someone

—-
“Heatwave”
Chiang Mai, Thailand.
One room. Two beds.


The air conditioner wheezed as it fought against the humid weight of the evening. Fonsi lay sprawled on one bed, wearing only gym shorts and a thin tank top, his bare feet hanging off the edge. The light from the TV flickered over his face, reflecting a dull action sequence they weren’t really watching.

Ralph sat on the other bed, one leg tucked under the other, sipping warm bottled water. His skin had a faint sunburned flush, and his white T-shirt clung to him with the day’s leftover sweat. His blond hair was damp from a cold shower hours earlier, but the heat in the room had returned with vengeance.

“This is the worst AC ever,” Ralph said, fanning himself with a tourist map.

“Just take your shirt off,” Fonsi muttered, eyes still on the screen, but his voice teasing. “Embrace the Thai heat.”

Ralph rolled his eyes but peeled the shirt off anyway, revealing a lightly defined chest and flat stomach. His torso shimmered faintly in the dim light, and Fonsi noticed, even if he didn’t say anything. His gaze lingered too long.

“You’re not exactly dressed for winter either,” Ralph shot back.

Fonsi shrugged, then slowly lifted his own tank top off. He tossed it aside, his short brown hair sticking slightly to his forehead. His skin was darker, more olive-toned, with a smooth semi-muscular build. His dark eyes flicked over to Ralph and caught him looking.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The movie kept playing, but it was background noise now. Their attention had shifted, wordlessly, to each other.

“You ever think about… like…” Ralph started, then faltered, licking his lips.

Fonsi let the question hang in the air. He shifted to sit up straighter, one knee bent, arms resting casually on his leg. He glanced at Ralph, then looked away.

“You mean...? Not like, seriously. Just… moments.”

Ralph nodded slowly. “Yeah. Same.”

It wasn’t awkward — just electric. A quiet pulse between them, building slowly, naturally.

Ralph stood up and crossed to Fonsi’s bed, sitting beside him. Their thighs touched. Neither flinched. The tension shifted, charged now, yet gentle. Fonsi looked down and saw the faint outline of Ralph’s boxer briefs through his thin gym shorts. Something about it stirred something low and hot in his stomach.

“You mind?” Ralph asked softly, his fingers reaching to touch Fonsi’s forearm.

Fonsi turned toward him.
Ralph’s hand trailed up Fonsi’s arm, warm and curious. Fonsi responded in kind, fingers skimming over Ralph’s ribs, then resting lightly at his waist. There was a moment of hesitation — not fear, just reverence — and then they kissed.

It was slow. Experimental. Soft mouths tasting, exploring. Their breath mingled. Hands began moving again, not rushed, just… curious. Ralph’s fingers found the waistband of Fonsi’s shorts, dipped just beneath.

Fonsi shivered and reached for Ralph’s hips, tugging lightly at his shorts. “Still too hot,” he murmured.

They stripped down slowly, ending up in just their boxer briefs — Fonsi in black, Ralph in navy. The fabric clung snugly to them, outlining the growing hardness neither could hide anymore.

Fonsi’s eyes dropped, lingering on the subtle bulge beneath Ralph’s briefs. Ralph noticed and gave a shy smile, his cheeks flushed pink.

“This okay?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” Fonsi said. “It’s… more than okay.”

They lay down, face to face, noses almost touching. Their hands began to roam — chest, stomach, thighs. Ralph’s fingers slid across Fonsi’s abs, then paused over the front of his briefs. He cupped him gently, the fabric already stretched taut. Fonsi’s breath caught.

“You’re hard,” Ralph whispered, almost surprised.

“So are you,” Fonsi replied, sliding his hand down to mirror the touch.

They stayed like that for a moment — just holding each other through thin cotton, feeling the heat and weight of arousal grow between them. Fingers stroked slowly, rhythmically. The friction was tender, torturous.

Fonsi pushed slightly closer, their hips aligning. Their hips pressed closer, and now their boxer briefs were doing little to contain the heat and urgency swelling between them. Fonsi’s hand slipped under the waistband and wrapped around Ralph’s shaft under the fabric, skin meeting skin. He felt the full hardness of him — smooth, pulsing, warm — and the way Ralph bucked gently into his grip sent a bolt of arousal straight through him.

Ralph let out a low, shaky moan. “Fonsi…”

The way he said it — barely restrained, needy — made Fonsi’s cock twitch in his hand. Ralph slid his own fingers inside Fonsi’s briefs, curling them around him, stroking in sync.

They were pressed so close now, chest to chest, legs tangled, hands moving with increasing urgency. Their lips brushed, mouths half-open, gasping against each other.

Fonsi groaned, low and raw. “Fuck… that feels so good…”

Ralph nodded, his breath hot against Fonsi’s cheek. “I… I’m not gonna last…”

The slow rhythm quickened. Fonsi’s hips started to rock into Ralph’s touch, their boxer briefs soaked now at the front, the slick slide of precum easing every motion. The friction built, relentless and delicious. Their cocks rubbed together between them, both hands moving, stroking, desperate now.

Ralph threw his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh god… Fonsi… I’m—”

“Yeah… do it,” Fonsi whispered, voice thick with desire. “I wanna feel it.”

Ralph cried out, a broken, breathy moan as he came, spilling hot and fast across Fonsi’s stomach and his own hand. His hips jerked against Fonsi’s, and the sudden wetness, the pure heat of it, tipped Fonsi over the edge.

With a rough exhale, Fonsi groaned deep in his throat, body tensing. “Shit—Ralph—”

He came hard, his cock twitching in Ralph’s grasp as thick ropes of cum smeared between their stomachs, soaking into their boxer briefs. Their hands slowed but didn’t stop, milking every last pulse as they pressed close, mouths barely brushing, sharing each other’s gasps and ragged moans.

The room was filled with the scent of sex, the sound of breath, the distant buzz of life outside that suddenly felt a world away.

Eventually, their movements stilled. Ralph’s forehead rested against Fonsi’s, their bodies still tangled, slick with sweat and release.

Neither spoke for a while.

Then Fonsi broke the silence with a quiet laugh. “Well… that happened.”

Ralph smiled, still breathless, and kissed him — soft, slow, without any urgency this time. “Yeah,” he whispered. “And I kinda hope it happens again.”

Fonsi pulled him closer, their skin still sticky, but their hearts steady now.

“Me too.”
—-

To be continued in the morning. Maybe.

 

[Mango24]

“Heatwave – Part II: Morning Light”

The first rays of morning crept through the hotel curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the tangled sheets. Fonsi stirred first, blinking against the light, and became acutely aware of the warm body pressed against him. Ralph lay nestled close, one arm across Fonsi’s chest, their legs still entwined. The air was heavy with the scent of skin & sweat.

Fonsi smiled to himself — not a smirk, but a slow, dawning warmth in his chest. He ran a hand gently down Ralph’s back, fingertips tracing the ridges of his spine. Ralph shifted, sighed sleepily, and nuzzled against Fonsi’s neck.

“Morning,” Ralph mumbled, voice gravelly.

Before Fonsi could respond, the door handle jiggled.

“Hey guys, breakfast’s in ten—” Florian’s voice cut through the quiet as the door swung open.

Fonsi and Ralph froze.

Florian stood in the doorway, shirtless in board shorts, sunglasses on his head, looking every bit the chill traveler — until he saw them. Two of his best friends, half-naked, tangled together under the sheets. He blinked.

“Oh,” he said.

A long pause.

“Oh shit,” he said again.

Ralph sat up halfway, the sheets falling to his waist, revealing bare skin and clear evidence of the night before — tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and the unmistakable stain on his briefs. Fonsi covered his face with one hand, groaning.
“Flo, man, can you—?”

“No, it’s fine, I just…” Florian stepped inside, then closed the door behind him. “I didn’t expect to walk in on this. But, like… are you two…?”

Ralph looked at Fonsi. Fonsi looked at Ralph. Then Ralph shrugged.

“It kinda just… happened.”

Florian raised an eyebrow, then sat slowly at the edge of the bed, looking at them both. “I mean… I did wonder. The way you always touched each other. Shared earbuds like it was foreplay.”

Fonsi laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well...”

There was a moment of silence, tension teetering somewhere between awkward and curious. Then Florian’s gaze drifted down — at their bodies under the sheets, the barely hidden arousal already returning in the lazy morning warmth.

“You’re both kinda… still into it, huh?” Florian asked, nodding at the tenting sheets, his voice lower now, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Ralph didn’t move, but he didn’t deny it either. Fonsi watched Florian carefully, trying to read him. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he also felt something in the air - an intuition the let this moment unfold.

Florian hesitated only a moment before continuing:

“I always thought about something like this. I just didn’t think I’d walk in on it. You know what I mean?”

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Florian reached out, slowly, fingers brushing against Fonsi’s arm, then trailing to Ralph’s knee.

“But if this is a thing… I don’t have to walk away.” he said.

Ralph looked up at him — the heat returning in his gaze. “You sure?”

Florian’s eyes darkened slightly. “Only if you want me.”

Fonsi sat up, letting the sheet fall further, baring his torso. He took a deep breath and made his move: “Then get in.”

Florian crawled up onto the bed, slotting between them. Three bodies, warm and lightly sweat-slicked, pressed close. Hands began to explore again — more hesitant this time, but quickly gaining confidence.

Ralph leaned in first, kissing Florian — soft at first, then deeper, tasting his lips with a low hum. Fonsi watched, his own cock hardening again as he stroked himself lightly under the sheet. Ralph broke the kiss and turned to Fonsi, eyes glowing.

“You okay?” he asked.

Fonsi nodded. “More than okay.”

He reached for Florian too, their mouths meeting as Ralph kissed along Florian’s shoulder. The sensation of three mouths, three sets of hands — it was overwhelming in the most exquisite way.

Florian groaned as two pairs of hands explored his chest, his abs, sliding down to his waistband. His own hand found Ralph’s cock again, already hard beneath damp briefs.

“Fuck… this is insane,” Florian breathed, letting his head fall back as he let go.

“Insane’s good,” Ralph murmured, pushing the sheet off all three of them.

The sheet slipped to the floor as all three of them shifted, bare thighs brushing, skin sticky with heat and anticipation. Florian lay on his back now, propped against the pillows, still in his briefs — the last barrier. His cock strained against the dark blue fabric, the tip already dampening a small spot near the waistband.

Fonsi sat to his right, one hand slowly trailing over Florian’s chest, brushing his nipples with the backs of his fingers. Ralph was on the other side, leaning in, kissing Florian’s neck, his fingers toying along the elastic of Florian’s waistband.

“You look good like this,” Ralph murmured into Florian’s ear.

Florian’s breath hitched. His eyes fluttered closed.

“I’m hard as fuck,” he whispered.

Fonsi smiled and leaned over to kiss Ralph, slow and wet, while his fingers hooked under the front of Florian’s briefs. Ralph watched, his hand joining Fonsi’s, both of them tugging the fabric down together, inch by inch.

Florian lifted his hips obediently, biting his lip as the briefs were eased down over his thighs, then his knees, then off entirely. His cock sprang free — flushed and slick at the head, thick and twitching in the heavy air.

“Damn,” Fonsi muttered, eyes locked on it.

Ralph reached out first, wrapping his fingers around Florian’s shaft, slow and firm. Florian moaned immediately, his hips giving a little thrust.

“Sensitive?” Ralph asked, smirking.

Florian nodded. “You have no idea.”

Fonsi slid down, pressing kisses along Florian’s stomach, his lips warm and soft. Ralph mirrored him on the other side, their hands meeting as they both stroked Florian together — fingers slipping, teasing, squeezing in rhythm.

Florian’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. “This is insane. I’m gonna fucking explode if you keep doing that.”

“You’re not allowed to yet,” Fonsi said, grinning. “Not until we all do.”

They took turns kissing him — lips brushing Florian’s, then each other’s. Hands explored everywhere: chest, inner thighs, hips. Florian reached for them both, gripping their cocks in either hand, stroking them slowly, lost in sensation.

“You’re both so hard,” he groaned. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Ralph whispered, grinding gently against Florian’s hip.

Then came the rhythm — all three bodies in motion, hips rocking, hands stroking. Fonsi kissed down Ralph’s chest while jerking him slowly, the tip of Ralph’s cock leaking onto his fingers. Florian leaned in and licked the edge of Fonsi’s jaw, hand pumping him steadily.

Ralph reached between Florian’s legs, cupping his balls gently while Fonsi stroked him again, faster now.

The room was filled with sound — breathless moans, wet strokes, the soft slap of skin. It was raw, hungry, but still laced with something more: care, curiosity, trust.

Ralph was the first to break.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he gasped. “I need to come—”

“On me,” Florian said, eyes wild, hand gripping Ralph’s cock tighter.

Fonsi kissed Ralph hard, then pulled back just as Ralph groaned — his body tensing, his cock jerking in Florian’s hand as he came, thick spurts landing across Florian’s chest and neck. Ralph moaned deep in his throat, hips trembling.

Florian didn’t stop — his hand moved from Ralph’s cock to Fonsi’s, stroking him with firm, eager strokes. Fonsi growled low, eyes locked on Florian’s messy chest.

“I’m right there—fuck—”

With a long, shuddering breath, Fonsi came too, his release joining Ralph’s on Florian’s chest, dripping down his skin in sticky lines. Fonsi’s muscles twitched as he collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of Ralph’s neck.

Florian was panting now, still painfully hard.

“Finish him,” Ralph murmured, sliding down.

Fonsi and Ralph worked together, both hands stroking Florian’s cock, fast now, slippery with precum. Their lips kissed along his chest, his nipples, his throat.

“Oh god—yes—yes—” Florian cried out, body arching between them as he came, thick jets splattering across his own stomach, mixing with the others’. He grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, gasping, eyes wide and dazed.

Silence followed — heavy and slow. The room was humid and filling with morning light.

They collapsed together, limbs tangled, cum-slicked and grinning.

No one spoke for a moment.

Then Florian laughed, a deep, spent chuckle. “Well. I wasn’t expecting that for breakfast.”

Ralph smirked, still catching his breath. “Better than toast.”

Fonsi reached for the crumpled bedsheet and wiped his chest. “You’re both filthy.”

“And you love it,” Ralph shot back, kissing Fonsi on the jaw.


Florian nestled between them, arm across each of their torsos. “If this is what sharing a room gets me, I’m never booking a single again.”

“Let’s get to breakfast!”

***
To be continued.

 

[Mango24]

Part III

The jungle trail shimmered under the midday heat. Sweat soaked through shirts, and laughter rose lazily from the group as they made their way toward a hidden waterfall, cameras swinging at their sides, the scent of sunscreen and damp leaves in the air.

Fonsi drifted behind the others, his eyes fixed on one thing: Florian.

His shirt was dark with sweat down the spine, clinging to his lean frame. His shorts clung low to his hips, and every movement — the swing of his arms, the slight bounce in his stride — stirred something low and constant in Fonsi’s stomach. The memory of that morning still echoed in his muscles, in the stickiness they hadn’t fully washed away.

He picked up his pace until he was beside Florian.

“Hey,” he said under his breath.

Florian glanced over, not startled — like he’d been waiting for this.

“I haven’t stopped thinking this morning,” Fonsi added, voice low.

Florian’s lips curved into something unreadable, teasing.

“No?” he murmured.

Fonsi shook his head. “Can’t. I feel like I never came back down.”

Florian looked ahead. The rest of the group had spread out, Ralph too far to notice. They were safe for a moment.

“There’s a side path just ahead,” Florian said. “I saw it earlier.”

They looked at eachother with approval and slipped off the trail without ceremony, moving through thick underbrush until the sound of their group faded behind.

The space that opened was shaded and green, vines trailing from trees, a soft stream curling across the rock. The air felt cooler here, private. One could only hear faint voices and splashing water in the background.

Florian stopped and turned, not smiling, not speaking — but there was a knowing look in his eyes.

Fonsi took a step forward. “We don’t have to…”

Florian closed the space between them. “No?”

Fonsi hesitated. “Well…,” he said, as looked around for possible onlookers.

Florian didn’t hesitate. He slid one hand to the back of Fonsi’s neck, his thumb brushing just behind his ear — and leaned in. Their mouths met, lips barely grazing at first. Then the kiss deepened, and Fonsi sighed into it, already leaning forward like his body remembered the script better than his mind did.

The kiss grew slower, wetter. Florian’s hand moved downward, fingers brushing Fonsi’s ribs through his thin shirt, then grabbing his hip for a whole, until sliding down even lower towards Fonsi’s bulge.

“You’re already hard,” Florian said softly.

Fonsi laughed under his breath. “I’ve been hard since breakfast.”

“Should we do something about that?” Florian asked, still not quite smiling.

“Please,” Fonsi replied, breathlessly.

Florian chuckled low in his throat, then stepped in close until Fonsi’s back bumped gently against a thick tree trunk. The bark was warm and rough behind him. They kissed again — deeper now — and Florian reached between them to palm the shape of Fonsi’s cock through his shorts.

Just then, a burst of laughter echoed faintly from the main trail — the voices of their friends, maybe fifty or sixty meters off. It made Fonsi flinch slightly, his breath hitching.

Florian leaned in, brushing his mouth just under Fonsi’s ear. “We’re fine. They’re nowhere near close enough. They can’t see us. Can’t hear this.”

He kissed the side of Fonsi’s jaw. “Focus on me.”

With that, he dropped his hand to Fonsi’s fly and began undoing the first button. Then the next. His touch was unhurried, deliberate, teasing. The tension in Fonsi’s stomach coiled tighter as the fly opened completely, and Florian slid his fingers under the waistband.

He nudged the shorts down slowly, dragging the cotton over Fonsi’s hips, then down his thighs, letting them fall in a soft heap around his ankles.

Fonsi stood there, breathing shallowly, cock visibly straining the front of his black boxer briefs — the outline swollen, the tip already darkening the fabric with dampness.

Florian didn’t say anything at first. Just traced the length of it through the cotton with the back of his fingers, then turned his hand to grab Fonsi’s length through the cotton, giving it a slight jerk.

Then he smiled — soft, almost reverent.

“God,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Fonsi swallowed hard. “I—yeah,” he whispered, eyes wide, almost dazed.

Florian hooked his fingers into the waistband of the briefs and eased them down, slowly, like unwrapping something fragile. The fabric peeled over the head of Fonsi’s cock, then slid down the shaft, freeing it fully — flushed, veined, twitching slightly in the open air.

Fonsi’s breath stuttered as the briefs slipped down his legs to join the shorts.

Florian stepped back half a step, just enough to look. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Look at you.”

He reached out and curled his hand around the base, wrapping his fingers tightly — warm skin on skin, his grip sure and claiming. He paused, just holding Fonsi there for a second — feeling the heat, the throb, the subtle twitch against his palm — before beginning to stroke.

The first few motions were slow and deliberate, Florian’s fist sliding from the thick base up to the slick head, then back down again. He let his hand twist slightly at the top, thumb catching the precum that now beaded freely at the tip.

“Already leaking,” he murmured.

Fonsi’s lips parted, a quiet moan spilling out.

Florian adjusted his grip — tighter now — and picked up the rhythm, sliding over the length of Fonsi’s cock in smooth, continuous strokes. The sounds grew wetter. His palm slicked easily from root to head, coaxing out more with every motion. With each of Fonsi’s soft gasps, Florian subtly changed the angle — responding, calibrating.

And when Fonsi moaned louder, Florian tightened his grip, just slightly, pumping faster now — letting his knuckles brush the base of Fonsi’s pelvis, the pressure building with each movement.

“You gonna come for me like this?” he asked softly.

Fonsi’s hands gripped the bark behind him. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

Florian kissed his neck as he stroked harder. Fonsi could barely stay upright. His legs spread wider for balance, shorts at his ankles, cock glistening in the air.

The air filled with the sound of their breath, the wet glide of skin, the faint slap of palm on shaft. Every stroke made Fonsi shudder — the friction perfectly tuned, the pressure just right.

“I want to watch you come,” Florian said softly, eyes locked on his.

Fonsi groaned, his whole body tightening.

“I’m so close—”

“Let it happen.”

With a broken cry, Fonsi came — hips jerking forward as thick jets shot from his cock, arching into the air and landing in messy streaks on the mossy ground, over leaves, across a rock, dripping on to Florian’s pumping hand. The release hit him in waves, chest heaving, eyes fluttering closed.

Florian kept stroking gently until the last spasm passed, then let go.

And then he knelt.

Without a word, Florian lowered himself and leaned in. His mouth brushed along the softening shaft, as he slowly started licking — collecting the drips from Fonsi’s skin, licking him clean with long, unhurried strokes. His tongue moved along the crease of Fonsi’s thigh, up to the head, taking every trace of his release. And then he open his mouth and took the whole length in and sucked every last drop out of Fonsi.

Fonsi trembled, barely able to stay upright, one hand braced against the tree above him.

When Florian finally rose, his lips were wet, his eyes dark.

“Just being thorough,” he said, voice calm, satisfied.

Fonsi gave him a shaky laugh and pulled him into a kiss — soft, grateful, still gasping.

They dressed again in silence, rinsing hands and skin in the cool stream nearby. Their shorts clung to their thighs, but it didn’t matter.

As they rejoined the trail, voices carried faintly through the trees again. Still distant. Still safe.

Fonsi nudged Florian with a smile.

“What about Ralph?”

Florian didn’t look at him — just kept walking, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“I guess we’ll need to take care of him too…,” he paused.

“Tonight? You, me & Ralph.” He finally added.

*to be continued*

 

[Mango24]

Intermezzo:

By early evening, the jungle heat had softened into a thick, golden haze. Chiang Mai’s day had spilled into dusk, and the guesthouse courtyard glowed with string lights looped between trees, swaying gently with the breeze. Cicadas hummed in the background. A few lanterns flickered near the bamboo bar, casting warm light over cold beer bottles and the smoke from grilled street food rising into the air.

The group — sunburned, barefoot, slightly buzzed — had taken over a long wooden table near the edge of the courtyard. Someone was passing around plates of pad thai and grilled prawns. Two of the girls were laughing about a tuk-tuk driver who had tried to sell them an elephant ride. Music played low from someone’s speaker — slow, dreamy pop mixed with the occasional bassy beat.

Ralph was seated in the center, his arm slung lazily over the back of the bench, shirt open, skin still glistening faintly from the late afternoon swim. He looked completely at ease, tossing mango slices into his mouth and sipping cold beer between teasing jabs at the others.

Fonsi sat a little further down, legs stretched out, one ankle hooked over the other. He looked calm — if someone didn’t know him. But under the table, his knee kept bouncing slightly, and his eyes drifted, again and again, to where Florian stood just beyond the group, leaning against a pillar, quietly nursing a drink.

Florian hadn’t said much since they got back.

He was freshly showered, hair still damp, a white shirt hanging open over loose drawstring pants. Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.

Every now and then, his eyes would flick to Fonsi. Just long enough. Then away.

Fonsi had spent the last two hours replaying that moment in the woods — the tree against his back, Florian kneeling in the shadows like it was the most natural thing in the world. The tension hadn’t faded. If anything, it had thickened, now wrapped in the lazy heat of dinner and the slow crawl of dusk.

He caught Ralph’s voice suddenly, teasing him about zoning out.

“Earth to Fonsi,” Ralph said, nudging him with a shoulder. “You’ve barely touched your food. What are you thinking about?”

Fonsi blinked and looked at him, a quick smile flickering across his lips.

“Just tired,” he said. “Long hike.”

The conversation moved on. Plans for the next day. Maybe a boat ride. Maybe a temple visit. But Fonsi was somewhere else entirely — caught in the rhythm of glances, in the space between chairs and eye contact and silence.

As the plates emptied and the table began to splinter — some of the group retreating to their rooms, others headed toward the hammocks at the edge of the courtyard — Fonsi rose to grab another beer from the small fridge by the bar.

He opened it, leaned on the counter, and turned — just in time to see Florian approach. No one else seemed to notice.

Florian came close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. His voice was low, meant only for Fonsi.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Fonsi exhaled, slow. “Trying not to be obvious.”

“About what?” Florian asked, lips barely moving, eyes forward.

Fonsi swallowed a mouthful of beer. “About how badly I want you to do that again.” he said with a smirk.

Florian’s head tilted slightly. He gave a small laugh and a wink.

“You’re not as subtle as you think.”

A pause.

Then Fonsi leaned in, breath warm against Florian’s cheek. “You think Ralph’s feeling left out?”

Florian turned his head, met his gaze fully for the first time in hours.

“I guess we could fix that.”

They didn’t say more.

But just as Florian stepped away — slow, deliberate, a hand brushing lightly across Fonsi’s back as he passed — Ralph appeared from around the corner, fresh from the outdoor sink, his curls still wet, a towel draped around his shoulders.

He looked between the two of them, then gave a crooked grin.

“What did I miss?”

Fonsi’s heart gave a slow, hard thump.

Florian didn’t answer.

He just looked at Fonsi, then at Ralph — and raised one eyebrow.

***

The rest of the evening unspooled in slow, fading stretches. The last of the plates were cleared. Lanterns buzzed. The courtyard emptied little by little, shadows thickening around the pool. The laughter softened, then scattered.

Ralph lingered — not quite the center anymore. He sat quietly on the edge of a hammock, eyes low, shoulders loose. He’d grown quiet in a way that didn’t match the lazy alcohol haze — more thoughtful than tired.

Fonsi noticed how Ralph looked toward him more often now, then away. How his fingers curled around the hem of his towel, gripping, letting go.

As the group dwindled to silence and one final goodnight was mumbled from the far side of the courtyard, Ralph stood slowly.

He looked at both of them. Fonsi. Then Florian.

Then back at Fonsi.

“Think I’m gonna head in,” Ralph said, his voice quiet. “It’s too nice a night to end it with everyone passed out.”

He paused, as if still crafting the rest of the sentence as it came out of his mouth.

“If you guys want to just chill for a bit… I’ll leave the lights on.”

He turned without waiting for an answer. His towel still over one shoulder, bare feet silent on the path, he disappeared into the direction of the bungalow they shared.

Fonsi didn’t speak right away.

Neither did Florian.

They just stood for a moment, watching the fireflies flicker near the edge of the grass.

Then, finally, Florian tilted his head slightly.

Fonsi nodded.

“One more drink with Ralph?”



*to be continued*

 

[michaelnola]

Awesome story--great writing

 

[Mango24]

Part IV

The room smelled faintly of warm sheets and beer.

The overhead light was off — only the soft bedside lamp glowed in the corner, casting a quiet halo over the two narrow beds. The minibar sat open, three beer bottles sweating on the low nightstand between them.

Ralph was sitting cross-legged on his bed, still in nothing but a pair of soft boxer briefs. His skin was flushed from the day — pale, warm, his blond hair messy from having run his fingers through it too many times. He looked calm, but only on the outside. His eyes flicked to the door every few seconds.

When it finally opened, he sat up straighter without meaning to.

Fonsi entered first, carrying two more bottles. He wore only gym shorts and a sleeveless tee, his dark hair damp at the edges from a quick rinse. Behind him came Florian — quiet, solid, shirtless, in loose drawstring pants. He ducked slightly under the low doorframe, his frame broad and relaxed.

“Well,” Fonsi said, nudging the door shut with his heel. “You beat us to the minibar.”

Ralph gave a half-smile. “I was hydrating.”

“You’re glowing,” Florian teased, taking the offered beer from Fonsi and sitting on the edge of the bed opposite Ralph.

“Must be the lighting,” Ralph murmured, picking at the label on his bottle.

Fonsi dropped onto the same bed as Ralph, stretching out on his side, his back against the wall. His legs brushed lightly against Ralph’s, but he didn’t shift away.

They didn’t talk about anything serious. Not at first.

Fonsi pulled out his phone, and soon the three of them were half-laughing over some ridiculous reel of a monkey stealing someone’s flip-flop. Another one where a guy got slapped by a fish. Silly things — meaningless, but easy.

Ralph laughed, one hand resting loosely over his stomach. Every now and then his knee would knock against Fonsi’s. He never apologized for it.

The beers drained slowly. The air got heavier.

And then the videos stopped.

Fonsi’s phone dropped between them on the blanket, the glow fading.

For a while, no one said anything.

Then Ralph cleared his throat.

“Hey…”

His voice was quiet. Just enough to shift the tone of the room.

Fonsi turned his head toward him. Florian didn’t speak — just watched.

Ralph was sitting upright now, his beer nearly empty, his hands resting on his thighs.

“I’ve… been thinking about that morning,” he said.

No one asked which morning. They didn’t need to.

He continued, slowly. “I didn’t know what to say afterward. So I didn’t say anything. I just… I liked it. I mean—really liked it.”

The admission landed in the air like a dropped stone.

Fonsi sat up, now closer. “Yeah?”

Ralph nodded, not looking at either of them.

“I don’t know what that means,” he added. “But I’ve never stopped thinking about it.”

Florian spoke finally — low, steady.

“You don’t have to know what it means.”

Ralph looked up at that.

There was something in Florian’s eyes — calm, but not detached. Present. Grounded. Open.

And beside him, Fonsi’s hand was now resting gently on Ralph’s thigh. Not pushing. Just there.

“We were surprised,” Fonsi said softly. “But not in a bad way.”

Ralph gave a small laugh, short and unsure. “It didn’t feel bad.”

Florian shifted slightly on the opposite bed, and the mattress creaked beneath his weight. His chest rose with a slow inhale.

“You don’t have to explain it,” he said. “Not to us.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy — waiting.

Ralph’s eyes drifted downward, toward Fonsi’s hand on his leg.

Fonsi gave him space. A beat. Then gently, his fingers began to trace slow lines along Ralph’s thigh — featherlight, barely touching.

Ralph exhaled, just once. And didn’t stop him.

Then Florian stood.

He crossed the small space between the beds — his body broad and solid in the golden light — and knelt beside the mattress, just in front of Ralph.

“You trust us?” he asked softly.

Ralph nodded, almost before he’d thought it through.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think I do.”

Florian leaned in, close but not quite touching. His breath was warm.

Then he looked to Fonsi.

And Fonsi — still beside Ralph, still calm — leaned in too. His mouth brushed just under Ralph’s ear. Light. Testing.

Ralph didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pull away.

Instead, his body leaned forward, barely perceptible — but toward them.

And that was all the answer they needed.

Fonsi’s mouth brushed against Ralph’s jaw again — not a kiss, not quite — just warm breath and the pressure of lips testing the edge of contact.

Florian knelt beside the bed, his hand resting on Ralph’s knee now, thumb gently circling the curve where thigh met skin. Ralph stayed still, but his breathing changed — shallower now, lips parted, his eyes flicking between them.

“You’re allowed to enjoy this,” Fonsi murmured, voice low against his ear.

“I… think I already am,” Ralph replied, as he nervously looked at the bulge that had formed in his boxers.

Florian gave a soft hum and ran his hand higher — just a palm over Ralph’s leg, warm and slow, until his thumb grazed the edge of the boxer’s waistband.

Fonsi sat up just a little and looked at him. “Still alright?”

Ralph nodded, quieter now. “Yeah.”

Florian leaned in then — and kissed Ralph. Not hard. Just enough for Ralph to feel the firmness of his mouth, the contrast between his strong build and the control in his touch.

Ralph responded slowly — his lips parting, his hand lifting to Florian’s shoulder. It felt strange and real and right all at once. Fonsi smiled as he watched, then leaned in from behind, kissing the base of Ralph’s neck where it met his shoulder, trailing warmth up his skin.

Florian pulled back just enough to smirk. “No going back now.”

“Unless you want to,” Fonsi added.

Ralph met his eyes. “No. I… don’t.”

Fonsi nodded — then gently pushed Ralph back against the pillows, easing him to lie down. The lamp’s golden light washed over his body, over his flushed chest and the pale line of skin where his boxers clung to his hips.

Florian stood and peeled off his drawstring pants, revealing white boxer-briefs that clung to his muscular thighs, revealing the curve of his thick manhood. His body was strong, well-shaped — broad chest, firm stomach, the kind of physique that radiated quiet strength.

Fonsi followed suit, slipping out of his gym shorts, now down to his briefs as well — dark against his golden skin, riding low over narrow hips, showing his hardness quite visibly. His body was smaller than Florian’s, more angular, but no less defined. His stomach was tight, the cut of his ribs visible as he leaned forward.

Ralph looked at them both — eyes wide, lips slightly parted — as if still not quite believing what was happening.

“You’re both just… really fucking hot,” he murmured.

“Finally,” Fonsi teased. “Validation.”

Florian laughed softly, and lowered himself to the bed beside Ralph, letting one hand slide across his chest, fingers grazing a nipple, then down his stomach.

Ralph’s breath hitched.

Fonsi lay on Ralph’s other side, propping himself on one elbow, his hand exploring along Ralph’s jawline, brushing his knuckles against his throat and collarbone.

“Let us take care of you,” he whispered.

Florian kissed him again — deeper now, confident — while his hand moved to the waistband of Ralph’s boxers, fingertips slipping just inside.

Fonsi leaned down and kissed Ralph’s chest, slow and warm, tongue flicking across one nipple before continuing downward. Ralph gasped — part shock, part pleasure — and instinctively arched into the touch.

“You’re shaking,” Fonsi whispered.

“Feels… really fucking good,” Ralph gasped.

Fonsi smiled. “It’s supposed to,” while casually grabbing Ralph’s waistband and pulling down on his boxers.

The briefs slid down over Florian’s hand and Ralph’s thighs, revealing Ralph’s beautiful pale body in all it’s glory.


Florian tightened his grip slightly, stroking a little faster now, his large hand wrapped firmly around Ralph’s hard cock, thumb brushing the tip as pre-cum slicked his fingers. Fonsi, in the meantime, worked his tongue through both of Ralph’s nipples, while brushing hands over his inner thighs.

Ralph moaned — not loudly, but helplessly — a sound that caught in his throat and vibrated through his chest.

He was close. He couldn’t hide it.

“Can I—?” he asked, breath breaking.

Fonsi kissed his cheek. “Yes. Let go.”

“Let us see you,” Florian added, stroking steadily, coaxing.

Ralph cried out softly as his hips jerked, his whole body arching — and then he came hard, thick ropes spilling over his stomach, his breath catching in waves. Florian slowed but didn’t stop, letting every last pulse ride out in his hand.

Fonsi kissed him again, softer this time, grounding him, his hand sliding up to cradle Ralph’s jaw.

“Holy shit,” Ralph breathed.

“You okay?” Florian asked, already reaching for the towel from the nightstand.

“I think I saw god,” Ralph murmured.

Fonsi laughed, low and warm. “Told you.”

Florian wiped him down gently, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary — more caring than clinical. Then he dropped the towel to the floor and lay back beside him.

Ralph, chest rising and falling, blinked slowly up at the ceiling.

“I really liked that,” he said.

“We noticed,” Fonsi grinned.
***

 

[michaelnola]

Part IV

The room smelled faintly of warm sheets and beer.

The overhead light was off — only the soft bedside lamp glowed in the corner, casting a quiet halo over the two narrow beds. The minibar sat open, three beer bottles sweating on the low nightstand between them.

Ralph was sitting cross-legged on his bed, still in nothing but a pair of soft boxer briefs. His skin was flushed from the day — pale, warm, his blond hair messy from having run his fingers through it too many times. He looked calm, but only on the outside. His eyes flicked to the door every few seconds.

When it finally opened, he sat up straighter without meaning to.

Fonsi entered first, carrying two more bottles. He wore only gym shorts and a sleeveless tee, his dark hair damp at the edges from a quick rinse. Behind him came Florian — quiet, solid, shirtless, in loose drawstring pants. He ducked slightly under the low doorframe, his frame broad and relaxed.

“Well,” Fonsi said, nudging the door shut with his heel. “You beat us to the minibar.”

Ralph gave a half-smile. “I was hydrating.”

“You’re glowing,” Florian teased, taking the offered beer from Fonsi and sitting on the edge of the bed opposite Ralph.

“Must be the lighting,” Ralph murmured, picking at the label on his bottle.

Fonsi dropped onto the same bed as Ralph, stretching out on his side, his back against the wall. His legs brushed lightly against Ralph’s, but he didn’t shift away.

They didn’t talk about anything serious. Not at first.

Fonsi pulled out his phone, and soon the three of them were half-laughing over some ridiculous reel of a monkey stealing someone’s flip-flop. Another one where a guy got slapped by a fish. Silly things — meaningless, but easy.

Ralph laughed, one hand resting loosely over his stomach. Every now and then his knee would knock against Fonsi’s. He never apologized for it.

The beers drained slowly. The air got heavier.

And then the videos stopped.

Fonsi’s phone dropped between them on the blanket, the glow fading.

For a while, no one said anything.

Then Ralph cleared his throat.

“Hey…”

His voice was quiet. Just enough to shift the tone of the room.

Fonsi turned his head toward him. Florian didn’t speak — just watched.

Ralph was sitting upright now, his beer nearly empty, his hands resting on his thighs.

“I’ve… been thinking about that morning,” he said.

No one asked which morning. They didn’t need to.

He continued, slowly. “I didn’t know what to say afterward. So I didn’t say anything. I just… I liked it. I mean—really liked it.”

The admission landed in the air like a dropped stone.

Fonsi sat up, now closer. “Yeah?”

Ralph nodded, not looking at either of them.

“I don’t know what that means,” he added. “But I’ve never stopped thinking about it.”

Florian spoke finally — low, steady.

“You don’t have to know what it means.”

Ralph looked up at that.

There was something in Florian’s eyes — calm, but not detached. Present. Grounded. Open.

And beside him, Fonsi’s hand was now resting gently on Ralph’s thigh. Not pushing. Just there.

“We were surprised,” Fonsi said softly. “But not in a bad way.”

Ralph gave a small laugh, short and unsure. “It didn’t feel bad.”

Florian shifted slightly on the opposite bed, and the mattress creaked beneath his weight. His chest rose with a slow inhale.

“You don’t have to explain it,” he said. “Not to us.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy — waiting.

Ralph’s eyes drifted downward, toward Fonsi’s hand on his leg.

Fonsi gave him space. A beat. Then gently, his fingers began to trace slow lines along Ralph’s thigh — featherlight, barely touching.

Ralph exhaled, just once. And didn’t stop him.

Then Florian stood.

He crossed the small space between the beds — his body broad and solid in the golden light — and knelt beside the mattress, just in front of Ralph.

“You trust us?” he asked softly.

Ralph nodded, almost before he’d thought it through.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I think I do.”

Florian leaned in, close but not quite touching. His breath was warm.

Then he looked to Fonsi.

And Fonsi — still beside Ralph, still calm — leaned in too. His mouth brushed just under Ralph’s ear. Light. Testing.

Ralph didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pull away.

Instead, his body leaned forward, barely perceptible — but toward them.

And that was all the answer they needed.

Fonsi’s mouth brushed against Ralph’s jaw again — not a kiss, not quite — just warm breath and the pressure of lips testing the edge of contact.

Florian knelt beside the bed, his hand resting on Ralph’s knee now, thumb gently circling the curve where thigh met skin. Ralph stayed still, but his breathing changed — shallower now, lips parted, his eyes flicking between them.

“You’re allowed to enjoy this,” Fonsi murmured, voice low against his ear.

“I… think I already am,” Ralph replied, as he nervously looked at the bulge that had formed in his boxers.

Florian gave a soft hum and ran his hand higher — just a palm over Ralph’s leg, warm and slow, until his thumb grazed the edge of the boxer’s waistband.

Fonsi sat up just a little and looked at him. “Still alright?”

Ralph nodded, quieter now. “Yeah.”

Florian leaned in then — and kissed Ralph. Not hard. Just enough for Ralph to feel the firmness of his mouth, the contrast between his strong build and the control in his touch.

Ralph responded slowly — his lips parting, his hand lifting to Florian’s shoulder. It felt strange and real and right all at once. Fonsi smiled as he watched, then leaned in from behind, kissing the base of Ralph’s neck where it met his shoulder, trailing warmth up his skin.

Florian pulled back just enough to smirk. “No going back now.”

“Unless you want to,” Fonsi added.

Ralph met his eyes. “No. I… don’t.”

Fonsi nodded — then gently pushed Ralph back against the pillows, easing him to lie down. The lamp’s golden light washed over his body, over his flushed chest and the pale line of skin where his boxers clung to his hips.

Florian stood and peeled off his drawstring pants, revealing white boxer-briefs that clung to his muscular thighs, revealing the curve of his thick manhood. His body was strong, well-shaped — broad chest, firm stomach, the kind of physique that radiated quiet strength.

Fonsi followed suit, slipping out of his gym shorts, now down to his briefs as well — dark against his golden skin, riding low over narrow hips, showing his hardness quite visibly. His body was smaller than Florian’s, more angular, but no less defined. His stomach was tight, the cut of his ribs visible as he leaned forward.

Ralph looked at them both — eyes wide, lips slightly parted — as if still not quite believing what was happening.

“You’re both just… really fucking hot,” he murmured.

“Finally,” Fonsi teased. “Validation.”

Florian laughed softly, and lowered himself to the bed beside Ralph, letting one hand slide across his chest, fingers grazing a nipple, then down his stomach.

Ralph’s breath hitched.

Fonsi lay on Ralph’s other side, propping himself on one elbow, his hand exploring along Ralph’s jawline, brushing his knuckles against his throat and collarbone.

“Let us take care of you,” he whispered.

Florian kissed him again — deeper now, confident — while his hand moved to the waistband of Ralph’s boxers, fingertips slipping just inside.

Fonsi leaned down and kissed Ralph’s chest, slow and warm, tongue flicking across one nipple before continuing downward. Ralph gasped — part shock, part pleasure — and instinctively arched into the touch.

“You’re shaking,” Fonsi whispered.

“Feels… really fucking good,” Ralph gasped.

Fonsi smiled. “It’s supposed to,” while casually grabbing Ralph’s waistband and pulling down on his boxers.

The briefs slid down over Florian’s hand and Ralph’s thighs, revealing Ralph’s beautiful pale body in all it’s glory.


Florian tightened his grip slightly, stroking a little faster now, his large hand wrapped firmly around Ralph’s hard cock, thumb brushing the tip as pre-cum slicked his fingers. Fonsi, in the meantime, worked his tongue through both of Ralph’s nipples, while brushing hands over his inner thighs.

Ralph moaned — not loudly, but helplessly — a sound that caught in his throat and vibrated through his chest.

He was close. He couldn’t hide it.

“Can I—?” he asked, breath breaking.

Fonsi kissed his cheek. “Yes. Let go.”

“Let us see you,” Florian added, stroking steadily, coaxing.

Ralph cried out softly as his hips jerked, his whole body arching — and then he came hard, thick ropes spilling over his stomach, his breath catching in waves. Florian slowed but didn’t stop, letting every last pulse ride out in his hand.

Fonsi kissed him again, softer this time, grounding him, his hand sliding up to cradle Ralph’s jaw.

“Holy shit,” Ralph breathed.

“You okay?” Florian asked, already reaching for the towel from the nightstand.

“I think I saw god,” Ralph murmured.

Fonsi laughed, low and warm. “Told you.”

Florian wiped him down gently, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary — more caring than clinical. Then he dropped the towel to the floor and lay back beside him.

Ralph, chest rising and falling, blinked slowly up at the ceiling.

“I really liked that,” he said.

“We noticed,” Fonsi grinned.
***

Hot and intense as fuck--great writing.