The dorm room was dim, the only light a faint glow from the streetlamp outside Jacob’s window. The air felt crisp, a cold night seeping through the cracked window, but Matt, nestled on Jacob’s chest, was enveloped in the giant’s radiating warmth. Jacob’s steady breathing rumbled beneath him, each exhale stirring the dark hair dusting his pecs. Matt’s tiny body buzzed with exhaustion and lingering adrenaline, the musky fog of Jacob’s body still clinging to his senses. The teasing, dominant jock had fallen quiet, his eyes half-lidded, but his massive hand rested lightly near Matt, fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to touch him.
“Cold out there, shrimp,” Jacob muttered, his voice low and gravelly, thick with drowsiness. “You’re staying close. No fuckin’ way I’m letting you freeze or scamper off.” His lips curled into a lazy smirk, but his eyes held that flicker of softness, betraying the tough-guy act.
Before Matt could respond, Jacob’s hand moved, scooping him up with surprising gentleness. “Back where you belong,” he said, his tone teasing but tinged with something heavier. Matt’s stomach lurched as Jacob tugged his sweatpants down, the familiar wave of musky heat hitting him like a wall. The air was thick, humid, the scent of Jacob’s practice-soaked body still potent even after the shower—a mix of sweat, raw masculinity, and that distinct, earthy tang. Jacob’s crack yawned open, a dark, hairy chasm, the skin slick and warm. “Brace yourself, tiny,” Jacob chuckled, his voice husky. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
Matt was slid back into the tight, suffocating space, his tiny body pressed against the puckered, pulsing skin of Jacob’s hole. The heat was overwhelming, the musky stench clogging his lungs, a cloying mix of sweat and Jacob’s natural scent. The sweatpants snapped shut, sealing Matt in darkness, the pressure of Jacob’s massive cheeks squeezing him snugly. The intimacy was dizzying—terrifying yet strangely anchoring, Jacob’s heartbeat a faint thrum against Matt’s tiny form.
Jacob shifted, settling into bed, the movement jostling Matt against the slick, warm flesh. The cold night outside was a distant memory; here, it was a furnace of heat and smell. Then, without warning, a deep rumble vibrated through Jacob’s body, followed by a loud, rancid blast of gas. The fart enveloped Matt, the smell foul and sulfurous, burning his lungs with its putrid intensity. Matt gagged, his tiny hands pressing against the skin, but there was no escape. Jacob snorted above, his voice carrying a smug edge. “Fuck, my bad, shrimp. Late-night protein shake’s hittin’ hard. Hope you’re comfy down there.”
Another fart followed, then another, each one a hot, stinking wave that filled the tight space, the smell growing heavier, more overpowering. The heat intensified, the slick walls of Jacob’s crack pressing tighter as he shifted, trapping Matt in a humid, musky prison. “Shit, you’re really in it now,” Jacob muttered, his tone half-teasing, half-sheepish, but there was a tremor in his voice, like he was as affected by the intimacy as Matt. The farts kept coming, relentless, each one a humiliating reminder of Matt’s vulnerability, the stench so thick it felt like it was coating him.
Hours passed, the rhythm of Jacob’s breathing slowing as he drifted toward sleep, but the heat and smell never relented. Matt clung to the skin, disoriented, his senses overwhelmed by the constant assault of gas and musk.
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