JB perched on the arm of his couch, legs bouncing, eyes flicking between the muted TV and the glowing app screen on his phone. “Out for delivery.” Good.
He glanced at the door, where he’d carefully placed a cheap ballpoint pen on the little entryway table — one he knew didn’t work.
His heart thumped with adrenaline.
He shifted, adjusting himself slightly in the thin white boxers he wore…the only thing he had on. His skin buzzed, part nerves, part thrill.
On the TV, the porn he had on played out exactly how he planned for this to go: some twink in nothing but briefs answering the door to a hungry-looking delivery guy. Perfect. He muted it, but kept it playing.
When the doorbell finally rang, it startled him — louder than he expected.
He wiped his palms on his thighs, smirked to himself, and pulled the door open.
And froze.
Standing on his doormat was Ryan.
Ryan.
His sister’s ex-boyfriend.
Tall, broad-shouldered, brown hair mussed under a baseball cap, holding a plastic bag of food in one hand and a receipt in the other, looking just as surprised as JB felt.
For a second, neither said anything.
Then Ryan’s gaze flicked down — slowly, blatantly — taking in JB’s bare chest, the strip of skin above the waistband of his underwear, the half-hard outline pressing against the fabric. His jaw ticked.
“Uh. Delivery.” Ryan finally said, voice rough.
JB’s heart hammered against his ribs. Not what he planned, but maybe better. He licked his lips and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, pretending not to notice the way Ryan’s eyes snapped back to his face.
“Need me to sign?” JB asked, voice light, a little too casual.
Ryan held out the receipt and pen stiffly, clearly trying to keep his hand steady.
JB took the pen, scribbled — nothing. He clicked it once. Twice. Shrugged.
“Damn. Pen’s dead.” He handed it back to Ryan.
“I’ve got one right here” he said grabbing the strategically placed ballpoint from the entry table. He scribbled.
“Fuck. This one’s out too”
He widened the door, stepping back. “Come in for a second? I’ll find one that works.”
Ryan hesitated, but the door was open, and JB was smiling at him, chest bare, boxers leaving nothing to the imagination.
After a second, Ryan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The moment he turned, the TV came into view — and he froze.
It was impossible to miss: the porn scene playing out in full color, another delivery guy bending a half-naked boy over the couch.
JB pretended not to notice. He ducked his head, rummaging through drawers filled with mail and random knickknacks.
“I swear I have another pen somewhere…”
Behind him, Ryan didn’t move. His eyes flicked between the TV and JB’s ass. He shifted his stance. Cleared his throat, but the sound was dry, strained.
JB’s skin tingled—this fake show of looking for a pen was feeding straight into his exhibitionist kink. His boxers, already tight, tightened even more.
He stayed bent a little longer than necessary, giving Ryan a clear view, feeling heat coil low in his stomach.
When he finally turned back around, still “searching,” his eyes met Ryan’s — wide, dark, hungry.
JB finally plucked a working pen out of the bowl, spinning it between his fingers.
“Ah—got it,” he said, flashing Ryan a grin as he stepped closer. Close enough to smell the rain still clinging to Ryan’s hoodie.
He pressed the receipt against the wall, pretending to squint at it. “Gotta make sure I get… the tip…” — he dragged the word out deliberately, glancing sideways at Ryan — “added on here.” It was cheesy and a little porny—but he didn’t care.
Ryan’s jaw clenched. His ears were pink. His gaze dropped, just for a second, to JB’s crotch, where the thin white cotton strained tighter than before, the shape beneath it leaving little to the imagination.
“You, uh…” Ryan started, voice a little rough, “You’re JB, right? Lauren’s brother?”
JB turned, leaning his shoulder against the wall, still twirling the pen lazily. He smiled slowly.
“Yeah. Knew you looked familiar.” His eyes flicked down Ryan’s body and back up, just slow enough to be obvious.
“I always liked when you were around,” JB said, voice low, almost confessional. “You were…fun.”
Ryan shifted again, visibly uncomfortable but also visibly unable to stop sneaking glances — at JB’s bare skin, the curve of his hip, the way the white boxers clung indecently.
JB finished scribbling and handed the receipt back, his fingers brushing Ryan’s deliberately.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Thanks. Uh. This was my last run for the night, so…” he trailed off, awkward.
JB’s grin widened. Perfect.
“You’re done for the night?” He pushed off the wall, stepping back toward the living room without checking if Ryan was following.
“You could hang out if you want. I ordered too much food anyway.” He tossed the words over his shoulder like it was nothing, like he wasn’t half-hard in his boxers with porn blaring on his TV.
Ryan hesitated — a long, loaded second — before finally stepping out of his shoes and following.
When Ryan rounded the corner into the living room, he stopped dead. The TV was impossible to ignore now — JB had set the food down on the remote, hitting a button that unmuted it and full volume moans were heard. The same delivery guy Ryan saw on the screen when he came in was now railing the boy who was still mostly in his underwear.
JB faked a gasp and flailed for the remote — deliberately missing it.
“Oh my god, shit, I forgot that was on—” he said, laughing under his breath, face heating in mock embarrassment.
He scooped up the remote but didn’t turn it off, just lowered the volume as he flopped down on the couch, legs spread lazily.
He glanced up at Ryan, all wide-eyed and casual.
“You can, uh, sit down. If you want.”
Ryan looked like he wanted to bolt — or maybe throw JB down and fuck him senseless — it was hard to tell which.
He hesitated for one breathless moment — then sat down, stiffly, leaving way too much space between them on the couch.
JB stretched his arms over his head, letting the waistband of his boxers slip lower, the fabric tenting even more noticeably between his legs.
He grabbed a takeout box from the coffee table and shoved it toward Ryan, pretending not to notice Ryan’s red face or the way his eyes kept darting between JB’s body and the TV.
“So,” JB said, taking a casual bite of a fry, “what’ve you been up to since you and Lauren broke up?”
Ryan hesitated only a second longer before reaching out and grabbing a handful of fries from the box JB offered, his shoulders stiff, eyes still stubbornly fixed anywhere but on the TV — or JB’s bulge.
JB grinned to himself and shifted, reaching for another box. His arm bumped the fries in Ryan’s hand — and before he could react, the greasy handful of fries tumbled down, bouncing off JB’s bare thigh and landing square on his crotch.
“Shit!” JB yelped, jerking upright.
The fries were hot — fresh from the oil — and instinct took over.
In a flash, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down, stepping out of them right there in front of Ryan, leaving himself completely exposed.
Ryan froze mid-bite, a fry halfway to his mouth, his eyes locked wide on JB’s sudden, very naked body.
JB, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world, muttered a breathless, “Be right back,” and jogged toward his bedroom, bare ass on full display as he disappeared down the hall.
Inside his room, JB bit back a wicked grin, yanking open his dresser and grabbing exactly what he’d planted there earlier: a black mesh jockstrap. Sheer. Completely see-through in front. Fully open in the back.
He adjusted himself, making sure everything was on full display, and then stepped back out like he hadn’t just changed into the most indecent thing he owned.
When he walked into the living room, Ryan actually jumped a little, eyes widening at the sight.
JB shrugged, playing it off with an exaggerated sigh.
“Sorry,” he said, flopping back down onto the couch, even closer this time — their knees almost brushing.
“That’s all I had clean. Hope you don’t mind.”
Ryan’s mouth opened like he was about to say something — then closed again. His knuckles were white around the fry box.
“So,” JB said breezily, stretching one leg out along the couch so his thigh pressed lightly against Ryan’s, “you still work around here? I thought you moved after you and Lauren split.”
Ryan cleared his throat, eyes flickering helplessly down to where JB’s cock and balls were barely restrained behind the thin mesh.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Got a new place a few miles away. Delivering food part-time while I figure shit out.”
JB nodded, pretending not to notice the way Ryan’s voice had dropped almost an octave.
“Cool, cool.” He smiled, biting his lower lip just slightly.
JB pushed up from the couch, brushing against Ryan’s arm as he stood.
“Let me get us some drinks,” he said over his shoulder, wandering toward the kitchen.
Ryan had no choice but to watch him walk away — the jockstrap riding high, his plump ass bouncing with each slow step.
JB made sure to bend a little more than necessary when he grabbed two beers from the fridge, giving Ryan a clear, teasing view.
When he turned back around, Ryan was still sitting there — rigid, breathing a little too fast, his face flushed. JB knew his plan was working perfectly.
He strolled back toward Ryan, beers in hand, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sat down — way closer than before.
Their thighs brushed immediately, the heat between them almost palpable.
He cracked open Ryan’s beer and handed it over with a smirk, then leaned back, sipping from his own bottle like nothing was out of the ordinary — like he wasn’t practically naked, lounging beside his sister’s ex.
The TV moaned loudly in the background — the video still playing out shamelessly.
After a moment, JB tilted his head toward it, feigning casualness.
“Didn’t realize I left that on,” he said, lips quirking.
Ryan let out a dry, awkward chuckle, his face still flushed.
“Yeah, uh…interesting choice of background noise,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking again to the screen.
“Lighting’s not bad though. Kinda high production quality for, you know…porn.”
JB laughed low in his throat, a wicked glint in his eye.
“And what about the twink getting railed?” he asked, tipping his beer bottle slightly in that direction.
“You impressed with his performance too?”
Ryan coughed into his beer, looking like he was dying internally.
“Uh…I mean…looks kinda uncomfortable, honestly,” he muttered, voice strained.
JB’s grin widened.
“Yeah?” he said, setting his beer down.
“Doesn’t seem that bad to me.”
Before Ryan could respond, JB stood up, turning away slightly, and then — as if demonstrating — bent forward, planting his palms on the coffee table.
He arched his back, hiking his hips up, recreating the exact position from the video.
The thin strings of the jockstrap framed his ass — and leaving nothing to the imagination.
The mesh barely concealed anything at all, and from Ryan’s angle, he got a perfect, obscene view of JB’s hole, tight and exposed.
JB looked back over his shoulder, biting his lip.
“Actually,” he said casually, wiggling his hips a little just to be cruel, “it’s not too bad.”
Thanks for reading. More on Patreon. Get more from JaxxStories on Patreon
(Will eventually be posted here, but my Patrons get priority. I have about 6 ongoing stories with plans for many, many more if you're interested in subbing. If not, they will make it here eventually)
He glanced at the door, where he’d carefully placed a cheap ballpoint pen on the little entryway table — one he knew didn’t work.
His heart thumped with adrenaline.
He shifted, adjusting himself slightly in the thin white boxers he wore…the only thing he had on. His skin buzzed, part nerves, part thrill.
On the TV, the porn he had on played out exactly how he planned for this to go: some twink in nothing but briefs answering the door to a hungry-looking delivery guy. Perfect. He muted it, but kept it playing.
When the doorbell finally rang, it startled him — louder than he expected.
He wiped his palms on his thighs, smirked to himself, and pulled the door open.
And froze.
Standing on his doormat was Ryan.
Ryan.
His sister’s ex-boyfriend.
Tall, broad-shouldered, brown hair mussed under a baseball cap, holding a plastic bag of food in one hand and a receipt in the other, looking just as surprised as JB felt.
For a second, neither said anything.
Then Ryan’s gaze flicked down — slowly, blatantly — taking in JB’s bare chest, the strip of skin above the waistband of his underwear, the half-hard outline pressing against the fabric. His jaw ticked.
“Uh. Delivery.” Ryan finally said, voice rough.
JB’s heart hammered against his ribs. Not what he planned, but maybe better. He licked his lips and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, pretending not to notice the way Ryan’s eyes snapped back to his face.
“Need me to sign?” JB asked, voice light, a little too casual.
Ryan held out the receipt and pen stiffly, clearly trying to keep his hand steady.
JB took the pen, scribbled — nothing. He clicked it once. Twice. Shrugged.
“Damn. Pen’s dead.” He handed it back to Ryan.
“I’ve got one right here” he said grabbing the strategically placed ballpoint from the entry table. He scribbled.
“Fuck. This one’s out too”
He widened the door, stepping back. “Come in for a second? I’ll find one that works.”
Ryan hesitated, but the door was open, and JB was smiling at him, chest bare, boxers leaving nothing to the imagination.
After a second, Ryan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The moment he turned, the TV came into view — and he froze.
It was impossible to miss: the porn scene playing out in full color, another delivery guy bending a half-naked boy over the couch.
JB pretended not to notice. He ducked his head, rummaging through drawers filled with mail and random knickknacks.
“I swear I have another pen somewhere…”
Behind him, Ryan didn’t move. His eyes flicked between the TV and JB’s ass. He shifted his stance. Cleared his throat, but the sound was dry, strained.
JB’s skin tingled—this fake show of looking for a pen was feeding straight into his exhibitionist kink. His boxers, already tight, tightened even more.
He stayed bent a little longer than necessary, giving Ryan a clear view, feeling heat coil low in his stomach.
When he finally turned back around, still “searching,” his eyes met Ryan’s — wide, dark, hungry.
JB finally plucked a working pen out of the bowl, spinning it between his fingers.
“Ah—got it,” he said, flashing Ryan a grin as he stepped closer. Close enough to smell the rain still clinging to Ryan’s hoodie.
He pressed the receipt against the wall, pretending to squint at it. “Gotta make sure I get… the tip…” — he dragged the word out deliberately, glancing sideways at Ryan — “added on here.” It was cheesy and a little porny—but he didn’t care.
Ryan’s jaw clenched. His ears were pink. His gaze dropped, just for a second, to JB’s crotch, where the thin white cotton strained tighter than before, the shape beneath it leaving little to the imagination.
“You, uh…” Ryan started, voice a little rough, “You’re JB, right? Lauren’s brother?”
JB turned, leaning his shoulder against the wall, still twirling the pen lazily. He smiled slowly.
“Yeah. Knew you looked familiar.” His eyes flicked down Ryan’s body and back up, just slow enough to be obvious.
“I always liked when you were around,” JB said, voice low, almost confessional. “You were…fun.”
Ryan shifted again, visibly uncomfortable but also visibly unable to stop sneaking glances — at JB’s bare skin, the curve of his hip, the way the white boxers clung indecently.
JB finished scribbling and handed the receipt back, his fingers brushing Ryan’s deliberately.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Thanks. Uh. This was my last run for the night, so…” he trailed off, awkward.
JB’s grin widened. Perfect.
“You’re done for the night?” He pushed off the wall, stepping back toward the living room without checking if Ryan was following.
“You could hang out if you want. I ordered too much food anyway.” He tossed the words over his shoulder like it was nothing, like he wasn’t half-hard in his boxers with porn blaring on his TV.
Ryan hesitated — a long, loaded second — before finally stepping out of his shoes and following.
When Ryan rounded the corner into the living room, he stopped dead. The TV was impossible to ignore now — JB had set the food down on the remote, hitting a button that unmuted it and full volume moans were heard. The same delivery guy Ryan saw on the screen when he came in was now railing the boy who was still mostly in his underwear.
JB faked a gasp and flailed for the remote — deliberately missing it.
“Oh my god, shit, I forgot that was on—” he said, laughing under his breath, face heating in mock embarrassment.
He scooped up the remote but didn’t turn it off, just lowered the volume as he flopped down on the couch, legs spread lazily.
He glanced up at Ryan, all wide-eyed and casual.
“You can, uh, sit down. If you want.”
Ryan looked like he wanted to bolt — or maybe throw JB down and fuck him senseless — it was hard to tell which.
He hesitated for one breathless moment — then sat down, stiffly, leaving way too much space between them on the couch.
JB stretched his arms over his head, letting the waistband of his boxers slip lower, the fabric tenting even more noticeably between his legs.
He grabbed a takeout box from the coffee table and shoved it toward Ryan, pretending not to notice Ryan’s red face or the way his eyes kept darting between JB’s body and the TV.
“So,” JB said, taking a casual bite of a fry, “what’ve you been up to since you and Lauren broke up?”
Ryan hesitated only a second longer before reaching out and grabbing a handful of fries from the box JB offered, his shoulders stiff, eyes still stubbornly fixed anywhere but on the TV — or JB’s bulge.
JB grinned to himself and shifted, reaching for another box. His arm bumped the fries in Ryan’s hand — and before he could react, the greasy handful of fries tumbled down, bouncing off JB’s bare thigh and landing square on his crotch.
“Shit!” JB yelped, jerking upright.
The fries were hot — fresh from the oil — and instinct took over.
In a flash, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down, stepping out of them right there in front of Ryan, leaving himself completely exposed.
Ryan froze mid-bite, a fry halfway to his mouth, his eyes locked wide on JB’s sudden, very naked body.
JB, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world, muttered a breathless, “Be right back,” and jogged toward his bedroom, bare ass on full display as he disappeared down the hall.
Inside his room, JB bit back a wicked grin, yanking open his dresser and grabbing exactly what he’d planted there earlier: a black mesh jockstrap. Sheer. Completely see-through in front. Fully open in the back.
He adjusted himself, making sure everything was on full display, and then stepped back out like he hadn’t just changed into the most indecent thing he owned.
When he walked into the living room, Ryan actually jumped a little, eyes widening at the sight.
JB shrugged, playing it off with an exaggerated sigh.
“Sorry,” he said, flopping back down onto the couch, even closer this time — their knees almost brushing.
“That’s all I had clean. Hope you don’t mind.”
Ryan’s mouth opened like he was about to say something — then closed again. His knuckles were white around the fry box.
“So,” JB said breezily, stretching one leg out along the couch so his thigh pressed lightly against Ryan’s, “you still work around here? I thought you moved after you and Lauren split.”
Ryan cleared his throat, eyes flickering helplessly down to where JB’s cock and balls were barely restrained behind the thin mesh.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Got a new place a few miles away. Delivering food part-time while I figure shit out.”
JB nodded, pretending not to notice the way Ryan’s voice had dropped almost an octave.
“Cool, cool.” He smiled, biting his lower lip just slightly.
JB pushed up from the couch, brushing against Ryan’s arm as he stood.
“Let me get us some drinks,” he said over his shoulder, wandering toward the kitchen.
Ryan had no choice but to watch him walk away — the jockstrap riding high, his plump ass bouncing with each slow step.
JB made sure to bend a little more than necessary when he grabbed two beers from the fridge, giving Ryan a clear, teasing view.
When he turned back around, Ryan was still sitting there — rigid, breathing a little too fast, his face flushed. JB knew his plan was working perfectly.
He strolled back toward Ryan, beers in hand, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sat down — way closer than before.
Their thighs brushed immediately, the heat between them almost palpable.
He cracked open Ryan’s beer and handed it over with a smirk, then leaned back, sipping from his own bottle like nothing was out of the ordinary — like he wasn’t practically naked, lounging beside his sister’s ex.
The TV moaned loudly in the background — the video still playing out shamelessly.
After a moment, JB tilted his head toward it, feigning casualness.
“Didn’t realize I left that on,” he said, lips quirking.
Ryan let out a dry, awkward chuckle, his face still flushed.
“Yeah, uh…interesting choice of background noise,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking again to the screen.
“Lighting’s not bad though. Kinda high production quality for, you know…porn.”
JB laughed low in his throat, a wicked glint in his eye.
“And what about the twink getting railed?” he asked, tipping his beer bottle slightly in that direction.
“You impressed with his performance too?”
Ryan coughed into his beer, looking like he was dying internally.
“Uh…I mean…looks kinda uncomfortable, honestly,” he muttered, voice strained.
JB’s grin widened.
“Yeah?” he said, setting his beer down.
“Doesn’t seem that bad to me.”
Before Ryan could respond, JB stood up, turning away slightly, and then — as if demonstrating — bent forward, planting his palms on the coffee table.
He arched his back, hiking his hips up, recreating the exact position from the video.
The thin strings of the jockstrap framed his ass — and leaving nothing to the imagination.
The mesh barely concealed anything at all, and from Ryan’s angle, he got a perfect, obscene view of JB’s hole, tight and exposed.
JB looked back over his shoulder, biting his lip.
“Actually,” he said casually, wiggling his hips a little just to be cruel, “it’s not too bad.”
Thanks for reading. More on Patreon. Get more from JaxxStories on Patreon
(Will eventually be posted here, but my Patrons get priority. I have about 6 ongoing stories with plans for many, many more if you're interested in subbing. If not, they will make it here eventually)
