Ben’s heart thundered as he perched on the edge of Nate’s desk, the vast expanse of Nate’s body sprawled before him like an uncharted continent. Nate sat in his chair, hunched over a laptop, wearing only a pair of loose, navy-blue boxer briefs. The room was warm, the air thick with the faint musk of Nate’s skin. Ben’s bitterness churned—he was nothing to Nate, invisible, insignificant. Fine, he thought. If Nate won’t notice me, I’ll make his world mine.
He eyed the cliff-like drop from the desk to Nate’s lap. A stray pencil, left carelessly on the desk’s edge, gave him an idea. Ben wedged himself against it, shoving with all his might until it rolled off, falling onto Nate’s thigh. Nate didn’t flinch, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers tapping the keyboard. The pencil landed softly, unnoticed. Ben smirked. Time to explore.
Using a dangling headphone cord as a rope, Ben rappelled down the desk’s side, landing on the chair’s cushion beside Nate’s massive thigh. The heat radiating from Nate’s skin was immediate, the faint scent of sweat and body wash overwhelming. Ben crept forward, his tiny feet sinking into the fabric of the chair, until he reached the base of Nate’s leg. The coarse hairs on Nate’s thigh towered like trees, and Ben wove between them, feeling the warmth of Nate’s skin beneath his hands.
He climbed onto Nate’s thigh, the muscle firm and warm, like scaling a living hill. Ben’s pulse raced—this was Nate’s world, and he was invading it. He moved toward Nate’s groin, where the boxer briefs stretched tight. The fabric loomed like a dark canopy, the scent here stronger, a mix of musk and cotton. Ben hesitated, then pressed himself against the edge of the fabric, feeling the heat and the faint pulse of Nate’s body. He was so close, yet Nate remained oblivious, his fingers still clacking on the keyboard.
Ben slid down, following the curve of Nate’s thigh, until he reached the chair again. He circled to the back, where Nate’s backside pressed against the seat. The boxer briefs gapped slightly at the waistband, revealing a sliver of skin. Ben, daring now, squeezed into the narrow space, the air humid and heavy with Nate’s scent. He crawled along the fabric, feeling the overwhelming presence of Nate’s body, the sheer scale of it making his head spin. He was nothing here, yet he was everywhere.
Next, Ben aimed higher. Using the chair’s backrest, he climbed toward Nate’s torso. The journey was treacherous, the fabric swaying with Nate’s slight movements. Ben reached Nate’s lower back, then scaled the ridge of his spine, gripping the faint hairs for leverage. He arrived at Nate’s chest, where the skin was smoother, the heartbeat beneath like distant thunder. Ben sprawled across the expanse, feeling the rise and fall of Nate’s breathing, the warmth lulling him for a moment.
He moved to Nate’s armpit, drawn by curiosity. The coarse hair there was a jungle, the scent sharp and potent, a mix of sweat and deodorant. Ben burrowed in, his tiny body lost in the folds of skin, the heat almost suffocating. He lingered, marveling at how Nate’s body was a world unto itself, every inch a new terrain.
Finally, Ben descended to Nate’s feet, which rested on the floor. The toes, massive and curled slightly, were a challenge. Ben climbed onto the arch, the skin rough and warm, the faint smell of sweat clinging to it. He wedged himself between two toes, feeling the pulse of Nate’s blood, the sheer power of his indifference. Nate shifted slightly, and Ben froze, but Nate only scratched his nose, still lost in his screen.
Ben sat there, panting, his bitterness fading into something else—exhilaration. He’d conquered Nate’s body, made it his playground, all without a single glance from the giant. For now, that was enough.
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