Measure

It was the end of the day now, and I still had not fully processed what had happened earlier this morning. I had been visibly distracted all day to the point where I almost let a customer go with their purchase without taking payment. My mind was elsewhere, replaying what I had seen and heard, and what I had done with Matthew. I actually hadn't seen Matthew, or Rob for that matter, since then. I wouldn't want to see him anyway, I feel embarrassed that he let me slip up like that, that he lured me. All those times I thought I was sneaking in a glance, take advantage of his boisterous attitude, he either knew or was baiting me on purpose.

I don't even know this man, we have barely had two conversations, and both of those were work-related. There's been nothing of substance between us, I couldn't even tell you his last name, he's practically a stranger that I work with. Yet... he's alluring, captivating, there's something inside his deep eyes that makes me want to sink into him. He has a way of taking control of me, and he knows it. I can tell that he sees something in me too, he sees a man who wants to be guided, a man who wants to be told what to do. Maybe the reason why I haven't really taken a moment to get to know him is because there's some primal instinct between us. I only need a look, a smell, a touch from him, and I open myself up.

The store was closed, and everyone had gone home for the day. Again, I was here for another hour to clean up the store. As I finish clearing the fitting rooms, I see him walking between our formalwear fixtures. He hasn't seen me yet. I take a deep breath and walk towards him.

"Need any assistance, sir?" I say, walking up behind Matthew.

He jolts, and turns around. "You scared the shit outta me, Blake." He laughs, putting a hand to his abdomen.

"Sorry, I, uh," I can tell I'm smiling as I try to catch his eye, but he has already turned back around. "Well, if you're alright, I'll leave you be. The fitting room is clean if you want to use it."

He turns around and I catch his eyes. It's a deep blue, the same color as the sky on a cold morning just before the sun has risen. "I was actually hoping to catch you here," he finally says. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."

I feel a lump in my throat form and my face starting to burn. My tongue dries and my lungs struggle to breath. I don't know if this is a conversation I've been dreading to have or dying to have. "Oh?" Is all I manage.

"Yeah... Uh," he starts, clearly feeling awkward himself. "Just about this morning."

"Oh." Is still all I manage.

"Yeah, I just wanted to clarify that it was all just a bit of fun, just a joke between us men, you know?" He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. My shoulder tingles from his touch.

I don't know how to react, but I shouldn't be surprised. A little part of me always thought it was too good to be true, that maybe he was just a bit of a flirt, even if he didn't mean to be one. I look into his eyes again, expecting to find them pleading or at least concerned, but to me they seem calm as ever, soft as ever, flirtatious as ever. Even the rest of his body language seemed so nonchalant as though what he is saying is not really what he means... Or maybe I'm just reading into it a bit too much, trying to see what I want and not what is there.

"Of course! I haven't even thought about it since if I'm being honest." I fake a laugh, trying to lay it on thick, but as soon as I say it I see Matthew's face drop ever so slightly, and only for a split second.

He pats me on the shoulder, "Thanks man, I just know young people can get confused some times with this kind of stuff." He lowers his hand and turns back around.

I'm left standing there, even more confused about Matthew. I know I saw his face drop when I lied about not having thought about our interaction in the bathroom, but I can't help but feel that I'm reading into it, that I'm only seeing what I want to see. But... But I did see something, I'm sure of it.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind your help with this, if you don't mind?" He breaks me out of my head, and gestures to the rail of trousers. "Need to get some more work pants."

My chest begins to flutter again. There's something about this man that I just can't help but feel excited about being around.

"Sure, do you know your waist size?" I respond.

"I think I'm about a 34 inch, maybe a 32 inch. I haven't bought pants in a while." He says, flicking through the black pants we have. "Actually, do you mind measuring me?"

He turns around to me, and gestures his waist to me.

"Oh, uh, sure," I stumble, not expecting to do this.

I pull out the measuring tape from my pocket and unfurl it. I bend down slightly and I swing my hand around his body, holding on to one end of the measuring tape with my other hand. I grab onto the other end of the tape and wrap it around his waist, meeting the two ends right in front of his belt buckle. Funny to think my hand was in this same area only 12 hours ago. I lean down to read what I have measured, and being this close to him I can smell his natural musk. It's salty and tangy, it really should be a gross smell, but the pheromones fill my nose and pollute my mind.

I come up for air.

"You're not quite 34 inches around, but we'll start there and see how the rest of it fits." I finally say, looking him directly into his eyes. I don't know how long my face was down next to his pants, it felt like an eternity and a millisecond all at once.

"Perfect, I've got them right here. Won't be a second." He walks off with pants in hand towards the fitting rooms. I wait a second, rolling up my measuring tape and putting it back into my pocket, and then finally start towards the fitting rooms.

I enter the fitting room, and Matthew has already claimed one of the stalls.

"How'd you go?" I call out.

He opens the door of his stall and struts out. "Too big," he says, pulling the waistband of the pants to show quite a big gap. Even with the add material of his tucked in shirt, the pants are falling off him.

"Oh yeah, way too big, and they're bagging around your ankle too," I respond. "I can see if we've got a slimmer fit?"

"Actually," Matthew starts, "Do you mind remeasuring my waist? I feel like a 34 inch is too big."

"I can just get you the 32 inch pants, no need to remeasure-"

"I just think that your first measurement was a bit inaccurate because my belt and pants were in the way, and I'd rather get it exactly right."

Before I can say another word, Matthew undoes the pants he's wearing and pulls them off, one leg at a time. He throws the pants to a couch opposite him, leaving him standing in the middle of the fitting room in his underwear and shirt. My mouth coats itself in sand, dried up and agape. I can't help myself but look at him. It was one thing to feel his bulge with my hand, it's another thing to see it in all his glory. He's wearing tight white briefs, his balls and his cock perfectly nestled inside. I'm trying to make out a more defined outline through the thin fabric, but I don't want to be caught staring for too long. I think back to how he felt, the shape of his cock beneath two layers of fabric. I can feel myself start to stiffen in my own pants. I follow his body down to his thighs, they look strong and overwhelming, and are covered in dark hair. I want to hold his thighs, grapple onto them like my life depended on it, I want to feel their strength and comfort, their warmth and force. I try to subtly adjust my own pants to hide my erection, but I don't think it worked.

I snap out of my trance. He's already drawn the line with us, this means nothing to him so it can't mean anything to me. To him, standing here in his underwear is something that men do with no expectation, or even inclination, of anything sexual.

"Right, I'll remeasure you then." I say as I pull out the tape from my pocket.

"Oh, hang on," he quickly replies, and before I can respond he undoes the top four buttons of his shirt and then pulls it over his head, leaving him practically naked. "Sorry, the bottom of the shirt would've been in the way."

I'm now seeing pretty much the complete picture of Matthew, and I can't really believe my eyes. My manager - who smells like a sweet nuzzle, who's dark olive skin skin looks warm to the touch, who's voice is able to command me to do anything he wanted - is standing in front of me in nothing but his thin, white underwear. I take him all in. His arms look just as big as the last time I saw them, his stubbly and toned chest leads perfectly down his body. I follow his happy trail down to where his public hair pokes out from the top of his underwear's waistband. His waist leads down his body in a V shape to his hips, where his underwear is sitting. I feel my own cock throb in my pants. Fuck, the things I would do if I could.

I think back to our earlier conversation and I can't help but think that this is a challenge, this is a test, to see if I'm true to my word. To see if I know how far the joke goes.

I calm my breath, seeing as my tense body, pounding heart, and throbbing cock cannot be calmed, and walk towards him with my tape in hand. I flick my gaze towards him, and his eyes are already pointed towards me, burning me up from the inside out.

"Hopefully, we get a more accurate measurement like this." I say, my voice keeping low, as though I only want this moment to be between us.

"Hopefully," he responds. His voice now low as well, but a bit rougher.

Like before, while holding on to one end of the measuring tape with one hand, I wrap my other hand around his body and grab the other end of the tape. I wrap it around his waist, meeting the two ends just above his bulging cock. I let the excess of the tape dangle and touch his bulge. I read the tape.

"You were right. 32 inches exactly." I finally say, looking up to meet his gaze.

He looks down and smiles slyly, "Thought so."

I release him from my tape and step back, averting my eyes not only from his eyes, but his body as a whole.

"Thank you for that. You can't be too sure in these types of situations." He says.

"No you can't be... I'll grab those pants for you." I say, practically running out the door.

I turn the corner towards the fixture with the rest of the pants, but stop just as I'm out of sight. I take a few deep breaths trying to calm myself. My cock is basically splitting the seams of my pants trying to come out, and if it wasn't for the store security cameras, I would probably take it out right now and relieved myself. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror on the wall. An outline of my hard cock trails down my thigh. It only turns me on even more. Shit. I try to shift it around my pants from the outside, hoping to at least turn it upwards so it's a little bit inconspicuous. Matthew has never confused me more than he is right now. He told me all of this physical stuff was just joking around, "men being men". He draws a line, tells me to recognise it, tells me not to get confused by it, and then has done everything in his power to push that boundary, and he knows it. He's doing this on purpose, and he's always been doing it on purpose, I know that now. Whether or not this is his version of "joking", I'm gonna see how far this joke goes for him.

I stop adjusting my cock in my pants and put it back down next to my thigh. While it has stopped throbbing, it is still quite hard. I pull my pants up a little bit higher, creating an almost perfect outline of my cock against my leg through the black fabric. I don't care if he sees it anymore, if anything, I hope he does. I walk to the fixture of pants and grab a size 32. As I'm walking back to the fitting room, I can feel my cock rub against the tightness of my pants, turning me on even more.

I find Matthew back in his stall, still wearing nothing but his underwear, stroking his chest and arms.

"Here we are, 32 inch waist" I call as I walk closer to his stall.

As he turns around, I see his eyes dart from my face down to my pants, noticing the outline of my cock. Just as quick as they went down, his eyes dart back up just a little bit wider than they were before. He quickly takes the pants I'm holding in front of him and puts them on. I stand there and watch him put one leg in a time, see him button up the waist, and then finally zip up the fly over his bulge. The pants fit him like a glove, not too slim that they accentuate his bulge and his thighs, but fitted enough that it doesn't bag.

"That looks a lot better, especially around the waist," I say.

"Yeah, it's perfect around the waist," he says, checking himself out in the mirror. "But, do you think they're a bit long?"

I look down and he's right, the hem is sitting under the soles of his feet. I know I could just get the shorter leg size for him... but you can't be too sure in these kind of situations.

"You're right, they are a bit long," I reply. "We could get a shorter leg, but we would need to measure your inseam first, to make sure we get the right size."

"My inseam? What does that mean?" He asks.

"I will have to measure the length of your leg from the inside of your ankle all the way up," I explain. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"Absolutely, anything to get the best fit." He briefly pauses. "Should I take these off?" He asks, gesturing to the pants he's wearing.

"Up to you. If you think we'd get a better measurement without them, by all means," I reply.

He pulls off his pants again, and steps out of his stall. He is once again standing in the middle of the fitting rooms in nothing but his underwear. My cock throbs again in it's tight fabric encasing, and I could've sworn I saw Matthew look at it as it throbbed.

I pull out the tape measure from my pocket and I kneel on to the carpeted floor of the fitting room, directly in front of Matthew's bulging cock. From this angle, his bulge looks even fatter, his thighs even thicker. I can see the hair around his leg and coming out from the underwear. I can see the slight outline of his cock head as it points down. I can smell him. I can smell his sweaty cock as it stretches out the fabric of his underwear, it's a thick tangy musk mixed with something salty. I could burry my face into his hairy thighs and breath only his scent, let his stench fill my lungs, drowning in Matthew.

I hold the bottom of the tape measure to his ankle and feed the tape through my hand up the inside of his leg. Along the way, I brush past the hair going up his leg, going slower and more delicate the higher I climbed. I stop moving my hand up when I get to his bulge, getting so close that my knuckles ever-so-slightly grazed the fabric of his filled out underwear. I look at the measuring tape, and then look up to Matthew, gazing directly into his eyes to see if there was some kind of reaction to what I just did. His eyes remain calm and soft.

"32 inch inseam, we should have that in a 32 waist." I say.

"Thank you," he replies. Then, as I'm about to get up, he stammers, "should we do the other leg as well? Just in case they are different lengths?"

I see now. This is a game to him. And I'm more than happy to play.

I hold the bottom of the tape measure to his other ankle now, and feed the tape through my hand up the inside of his other leg. I brush the hair going up his leg a bit more consciously now. As I'm about to stop moving my hand up when I get to his bulge, I decide to be a bit daring (only a bit). I "accidentally" over shoot my hand, and push it into his soft bulge, before pulling back to where I should've stopped. I know it wasn't much, but it's the closest I've gotten.

"Sorry." I whisper.

"It's fine." He says back, low and rough.

I read the tape again.

"32 inches on this side too," I finally say.

"Perfect," he says. "Is there anything else you need to measure for the pants?"

I look at him, catching his eye. There's a glint in there. I look down directly at his bulge, then I look back up to him.

"I don't need to measure anything else, no." I respond.

I finally stand up, my knees slightly hurting. I pull my pants up, continuing to accentuate the outline of my cock going down my thigh. This time, however, Matthew notices.

"Woah man, a bit excited are we?" He says, smiling.

I decide the play along.

"Wha-?" I look down at my pants. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't-" I put my hands over my bulge. "I didn't even realise."

"Hey, it's all good," he laughs. "Happens to us all."

"No, I'm sorry, it's embarrassing." I blush, keeping my hands over my crotch.

"Well, between you and me, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about." He says.

"What?"

"I mean, look at me. I'm standing here half naked while you size me up for some pants. If anything, I should be the embarrassed one."

I chuckle, "Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll go grab-"

"Move your hands out of the way." He cuts me off.

I stop breathing and just look at him. He's looking directly into my eyes, his mouth slightly open and upturned.

"Sorry?" I stammer.

"Move your hands, I wanna see it again." He responds.

My face burns, I didn't see this coming. I don't move.

"C'mon, it's funny, don't you think?" He continues.

There's something in his eye that tells me he won't take no for an answer, I'm just hoping that I'm sending back looks that I would never say no. Not to him. I can feel my cock pulsing in the fabric. I move my hands, exposing my outline to him once again.

"I guess it is a bit funny." I smile. I push my hips forward ever so slightly, trying to accentuate it a bit more.

He looks down at my pants and chuckles, "how long has that been in your pants, then?"

I try my luck: "Oh, probably since this morning," I say back, winking at him.

"HA! I bet you have." He strokes his face with his hand. "I must say, though - man to man - it doesn't look too bad."

"Oh, uh, thanks, I guess." I rub the back of my neck.

"No, I'm serious." He takes a step closer to me.

I feel my heart beat furiously in my chest, I'm sure if he tried hard enough he would be able to hear it's deep pounding coming from inside of me. I feel nervous, and I don't know why.

"I guess," he drops the hand that is on his face, and moves it towards my bulge. He stops abruptly, now hovering in front of it. "I don't know, I guess as a man I can appreciate 'shape', if you know what I mean?" He's now gesturing at the outline in my pants.

"I think I do."

"Yeah, I think it's-"

By the time I realise what I'm doing, I'm already doing it. It's like my body momentarily fell into a trance. My nose caught a whiff of his sweet scent, a flash of his deep blue eyes, and instincts took over.

I grab Matthews wrist, cutting him off mid-sentence, and put his dark olive hand on to the outline of my cock. I hold it there for a second, and then finally let go of his wrist. His hand rests on my cock, but doesn't really acknowledge it otherwise. I look up and meet his eyes. For the first time ever, I can see a tinge of apprehension leaking from his eyes. He wasn't expecting this, but to be fair, neither was I. He looks almost guilty, but his hand remains on my cock. I worry I've taken it too far, that I've read all the signs completely wrong.

"A bit easier to appreciate 'shape' when you have the whole picture, right?" I smirk, trying to defuse the tension.

He smirks back, reseting his jaw.

"You're absolutely right." His voice soft and low, rough like gravel.

He finally wraps his hand around my outline, and begins to follow the bulge up and down, studying my cock with his hand. The sensation is like nothing I've ever felt. I never would've thought that Matthew would be standing in front of me, stroking my hard cock through my pants. Matthew, who's touch was like if lightning could soothe, who's eyes looked like a watercolor painting of every blue imaginable, who's smell enveloped me and enter corners of my body and mind I didn't realise existed, who's voice could make me risk anything and everything for him.