Zeke didn't mean to flirt with him.
He didn't even think the guy would notice him. Let alone talk back.
He'd just been trying to get a matcha latte. A little hungover, wearing short shorts and a hoodie two sizes too big, earbuds in, fluffy hair a mess from last night's pillow fight with his besties.
Then he looked up.
And saw him.
Tattooed forearms. Tight black shirt. Thick thighs in cargo pants. Jawline that looked like it was cut to command respect. And eyes piercing, amused, locked on Zeke like he was already unwrapping him.
Zeke blinked.
Mascular. Gorgeous. And huge.
"Damn," Zeke said without thinking, taking a sip of his drink. "Are you real or just a stress dream with arms?"
The guy raised an eyebrow.
Then smirked.
"Depends. Are you always this mouthy before breakfast?"
Zeke choked on his straw.
"..No?" he squeaked.
And that's how he met Damien.
Now?
Now Damien was on top of him.
Literally.
Zeke's fingers clung to the broad planes of his boyfriend's shoulders, mouth open in a silent moan as Damien rolled his hips again, slowly - deliberately - grinding into him with enough force to knock the air from Zeke's lungs.
"F-fuck, you're- " Zeke gasped, throwing his head back, thighs trembling. "You're so- big-"
"Mmhm," Damien rumbled, lips at his neck "You're just tiny."
Zeke whined.
He was.
He wasn't short, exactly - but compared to Damien, everything about him felt small. Especially now, bare beneath him, his hands pinned to the bed, his legs spread wide and barely able to wrap around Damien's thick waist.
"Can't even take me without shaking," Damien said, voice like thunder. "You wanted this, baby."
Zeke gasped. "I still want it--just--oh god slower-!"
But Damien didn't slow down.
Not really.
His pace stayed measured, but his thrusts were deep. Bruising. He fucked like a man who knew exactly how to use his size - now to make you feel every inch and bed for more.
And Zeke?
He loved it.
Loved the stretch. The weight. The way his body bent so easily under Damien's hands.
The way those massive arms caged him in like he was breakable. The way Damien held back - barely - just so he wouldn't hurt him.
"Good boy," Damien growled, dragging his cock out iust far enough to make Zeke whimper before slamming back in again.
"Taking it so sweet."
Zeke was already crying.
Eyes wet. Mouth open. Hands clutching Damien's forearms like a lifeline.
He couldn't help it.
The pleasure was thick and heavy and constant. He could feel it in his throat. His toes. His spine. Every thrust sent heat curling through his belly, lightning shooting down his thighs.
"D-Damien--!" he gasped. "Gonna-please, I can't-!"
"Yes you can," Damien said, biting his shoulder. "You're gonna take every inch of me. All of me. And then I'm gonna fill you up until you can't walk tomorrow."
Zeke moaned. High and desperate.
"I love you-"
'I know," Damien whispered. "I've got you pretty thing."
And then?
He hit that spot again.
Zeke screamed.
Came hard, untouched, thighs locking tight around Damien's waist as he arched off the bed and shook apart.
Damien fucked him throtigh it.
Slower now. Deeper.
Holding Zeke's face, pressing kisses to his cheeks as he rocked in one last time and spilled deep inside him with a low, broken groan.
They stayed like that.
Breathing hard. Staring at each other.
Then Damien nuzzled close, lips against Zeke's ear.
"Still think I'm just a stress dream with arms?"
Zeke giggled weakly.
"Nope," he whispered, kissing him back. "Now you're just my whole-ass man."