The hand-off

by BRK

 Joey enjoyed hanging out in the corporate café-style break room, just in case Tim from Major Accounts stopped by and Joey got to see his amazing butt. What Joey didn’t know was how Tim got that butt, and what that might mean for Joey.

Added: Feb 2022 2,158 words 3,450 views 4.5 stars (11 votes) This story was commissioned via Patreon Vignette Party.

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The 43rd floor break room at the main corporate headquarters of Soeleitter and Lickchops Asset Management (“your ROI is our do or die”) was done up like a simple but trendy café, with arty lighting, deep-stained mahogany-esque walls, slashes of foot-wide, floor-to-ceiling slit windows looking out on the city, a half-dozen elevated round tables in canary and lime with matching high-rise chairs, and no damn baristas—you make your own single-serve coffee-latte-mocha-espress-whatever, and you get your small bottle of high-end energy orange juice from the vending machines along the back wall at prices slightly less extortionate than the corner Walgreen’s downstairs at street level. Joey liked it well enough. He knew its dolled-up utilitarianism was designed to be friendly in a “make sure you’re just passing through” kind of way, but it was a nice break from his cubby—and if he ate his lunch here he was more likely to catch sight of Tim from Major Accounts and his perfect, guaranteed-to-twitch-your-cock hunk-butt.

Tim’s whole body was great in an understated way; taller than the slim, sandy haired Joey, dark-haired and lean but built, Tim looked like he’d made an effort at some point to alter his proportions to keep from being a beanpole by religiously pounding weights at the gym until he was sporting pleasingly broad shoulders, a nicely tapered vee, a bit of heft to the upper arms, and pecs that gently pushed his classic Oxford-style dress shirts out just enough to catch the eye. He must have kept it up for the duration, too, maintaining tone and form well into his thirties. His features were handsome in a vulpine way, olive-skinned and hazel-eyed, and it seemed like he was always sporting a permanently bemused half-smile that Joey was a little too intrigued by. It was his butt, though, that really got Joey’s attention whenever he saw it: high, round, and firm, it was the kind of ass that made Joe’s hands itch to cup and caress, just to see if they felt as good as they looked. It always made him feel a pleasant rush of arousal and a plump to his interested dick whenever Tim wandered by or lingered at the coffee stand, brewing his double-shot americano for the afternoon slog.

Sure enough, not five minutes after Joey sat down with his reheated brought-from-home ham and colby panini, accompanied by a bag of sour cream Lay’s and a can of Coke Zero from the vending machines, there he was, sauntering in to the café/break room and tossing Joey a wry, heartbreaking smile on his way to the coffee machines. Joey was, not coincidentally, seated at the closest of the tables to the java station, and so was provided with a front-row seat as Tim stood at the counter filling his twenty-ounce insulated mug with hot, extra-caffeinated bean juice. The pants he was wearing today were loosely cut, he noticed, which had two related effects: showing off his glutes from the way the fabric gripped them and then hung off them, and emphasizing the length of his legs, the sleek power he’d spotted when Tim was wearing tighter, more athletic styles mostly hidden by the relaxed tailoring.

Joey was captivated. He was actually paused, panini partway to mouth, as he stared, and hidden under the high lemon-hued table his long, thin cock started swelled rapidly in his own trousers.

As Joey was thus engrossed Muhammad from Small Business strode in and started making a tea at the station next to Tim, looking preoccupied and unhappy. Joey noticed that his recent trend of softening up had now furnished him with a bit of a pudge—a shame, Joey thought, as he’d been the fit and driven sort for most of the time Joey had worked at SLAM. His clothes were loose and unflattering, like he’d found bigger shorts and trousers at the back of his closet or borrowed them from a larger friend.

Tim glanced over and gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Moe,” he said.

Moe looked up at him with a hint of surprise, like he was distracted enough he hadn’t quite registered Tim standing there. “Hey,” he said back.

“You know, that workout regimen you started a few months back is really paying off,” Tim commented. Joey smiled—Tim was known around the office for giving out little encouragements like this. “You’re looking nice and trim today,” Tim added, his eyes dropping briefly to Moe’s torso before meeting the other man’s gaze again.

Moe’s face blossomed in a smile. “Thanks, Tim,” he said, sounding touched. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Tim did a little shrug with his lips. “Just telling it like it is,” he said, clapping Moe on the shoulder. Which was true enough, Joey thought, letting his eyes drift appreciatively over Moe’s defined frame, his usual tailored white shirt and navy shacks showing off the tight form he’d been increasingly boasting in recent weeks to good effect. Moe nodded at Tim and headed off with his tea, humming the melody from an old pop song as he left.

Joey let out a huff without really meaning to. Tim turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Joey huffed again, looking toward the door Moe had just left through. “No,” he said, “it’s just, like, the way you said that, it was almost like you made it happen. Like, he was all tight and buff because you said he was.” He realized he was babbling and looked back over at Tim, his cheeks heating. “Crazy, right?” he added awkwardly.

Tim’s smiled and winked. “Actually, you got it exactly right,” Tim said blandly. He faced Joey and leaned against the counter, tracing figure-eights in his venti-sized mug with a long wooden stirrer. “The things I tell people actually come true. You just saw it happen, only you think he’s been that way the whole time.”

Joey laughed, playing along. “That would be so wild, right?” he said. “Like, just telling a guy he has an amazing ass, and—bam!—he actually does! Not that you’d have to in your ca—” Abruptly he cut himself off and, embarrassed, took a bit of his panini, chewing furiously.

“Thanks,” Tim said. “That did happen once, in fact.”

Joey hurriedly swallowed down his mouthful of sandwich. “What?”

“Someone told me I had a great butt that turned guys on,” Tim said. He took a sip of his drink before adding, “And then I did.”

Joey smirked at him. “What, and then you decided to pay it forward?”

Tim took another sip. “Sort of. After you’ve had it for a while, you have to pass it on. The guy who gave me my sexy ass, and a few other things—he decided to pass it to me.” He tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You know, I’m feeling ready to hand it off to someone new,” he said. “You interested?”

“Right,” Joey scoffed, amused. “I’m flattered.”

Tim was unfazed by Joey’s disbelief. “I can give it to you right now, if you want,” he said.

“Yeah?” Joey teased. “You can give it to me?”

Tim wiggled his dark eyebrows in a way that sent twinges of pleasure through Joey’s half-hard dick. “Well, it does need to be done with a kiss,” he said. “Anyway,” he added, fixing his bright hazel gaze on Joey, “better I give it to you than the other way around—from the bulge you can’t help showing you clearly have the biggest, fattest dick in the whole company.” There was something about his voice as he said that, Joey thought, like there was an extra layer of resonance he could barely discern; but then he forgot about it and the moment passed.

Joey rolled his eyes. People commenting on the size of his obviously ginormous junk was old news for him, ever since his middle school counselor accused him of stuffing his underwear and he had to prove to the school nurse he wasn’t. There simply wasn’t a way to hide that he was packing, though he made the lump as compact as he could. Actually Joey was pretty sure the truth of exactly how huge he was—length and girth—might surprise even Tim. Though the straining of his mighty cock and balls against their tight fabric constraints was going to get mighty uncomfortable soon if this conversation lasted much longer. People figured his extra-large junk made him bolder, but sometimes it was just impatience.

He decided to ignore the comment about his dick entirely. “It has to be done with a kiss, huh?” he repeated, a slight edge of mocking in his tone.

Tim just lifted his eyebrows.

Their gazes locked, and Joey drew in a breath. Tim was definitely making a pass at him, after all this time he’d thought the interest was only on his side. No way he’d just let this slide—he might never have this kind of opening with Tim again.

Heh, opening, he thought.

“I… don’t think we’re allowed to just make out in the break room,” he temporized as he set down his sandwich and wiped his hand with a paper napkin, his mind racing to find the right solution to this moment.

Tim shrugged negligently, not breaking eye contact as he set his mug aside on the counter behind him. “Nobody’ll care, Joe,” he said. “Guys make out in the break room all the time. It’s normal.”

That was true, Joey had to admit. He’d just seen it, after all, with that friendly smooch between Moe and Tim at the coffee machines. He’d been a little jealous, he had to admit—he’d only shared a few chaste ones in with Tim since the kiss thing had started happening after they got the new break room in the floor renos nine months back. And none of those involved the transfer of mysterious reality-shifting magic powers, he added wryly in his head.

He stood slowly, facing Tim almost in challenge. “Is that what you want, Tim?” he asked. “To make out with me for real?”

Tim smiled lopsidedly, dimpling an otherwise smooth cheek. “I’ve wanted to for a while,” he admitted, making a show of looking him over. “I mean, your muscles are naturally so beautifully sculpted, you’re like the most perfectly built fitness model ever. And those freaky pecs of yours,” he added, letting his gaze linger on Joey’s chest. “They’re just so thick and sweet, standing like, what, six inches off your chest like that? It’s hard not to touch them.”

Joey let out a breath, holding Tim’s gaze when it lifted up to his. Tim was right about that. Anyone he was talking to face to face usually ended up patting or stroking his massive pecs if he nodded his okay to their silent entreaties, and the truth was Joey himself had trouble keeping his hands off them, especially when he was alone. Women with big chests always talked about lack of eye contact, but with Joey it was different—they always looked into his eyes, like Tim was now, searching for permission.

He took a step closer to the taller man, flexing his pecs just enough to seriously strain the specialized-build dress shirt he was wearing. No one’s stopping you, they seemed to be saying.

Tim closed the remaining distance between them, placing the flats of his warm palms against Joey’s disproportionately huge pectorals. They both leaned in for the break-room kiss to surpass all break-room kisses.

A few moments of masculine bliss later, Joey pulled back from the kiss, and—understood. He looked at Tim in wonder. “You really did give it to me, didn’t you?” he said.

Tim blinked at him, ever so slightly dazed and unfocused. He gripped Joey’s pecs a bit, as if using the boulder-sized muscles for support. “Give you what, Joe?” he asked, not understanding.

Joey stared at him, then a small, slow grin spread across his face. “That tongue of yours,” he answered finally, eyeing Tim’s mouth thoughtfully. He felt the extra resonance slip into his own voice as he added, “It has to be the longest, stretchiest tongue of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Tim’s hazel eyes twinkled. “Sounds like you want another taste,” he said, with the slightly thick, just-noticeably-imperfect diction of someone whose tongue was a bit bigger than normal—and could get even bigger.

“Absolutely,” Joey said, with conviction. They fell into a deep and dirty snog that was broken only when the arbitrage team visiting from 44 gathered around and started to applaud.

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