Temporary Arrangement with Mr. Greg | EP 2 : Move-In Day

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

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Greg arrived with a couple of heavy suitcases and a couple of garment bags slung over his shoulder. Watching him carry his life into my apartment felt strangely intimate, like I was seeing a side of him I was never meant to see. Suits in muted grays and blues, neatly folded shirts, polished leather shoes, his whole professional armor laid out right there in my spare room. But what got me wasn’t the suits. It was the other stuff.

Sweatpants. T-shirts. A pair of sneakers that had clearly been broken in at the gym. For the first time since I’d known him, I was seeing Greg stripped of that perfect boardroom polish, and it made my chest tighten. The T-shirt clung to his broad torso, showing a chest that clearly saw the inside of a weight room, though he wasn’t shredded like some gym bro. He was just… big. Solid. Wide shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. The kind of build that looked effortless but was anything but. He had the look of a superhero who had set the cape aside for the night, moving through my apartment as nothing more than a dangerously sexy man… and yes, you already know I’m giving a reference to Mr. Cavill.

I lingered in the doorway, pretending to check the space while really just drinking him in.  “Please let me know, Mr. Lawson, if you need anything,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Thanks, man,” he replied without looking up, focused on organizing his things.

I had cleared the room for him…emptied out the wardrobes, put away every trace of clutter, replaced the sheets with fresh ones. I even polished the nightstand. All that remained was my piano in the corner, like a piece of myself I couldn’t quite hide. It wasn’t just about giving him a comfortable space. If I was honest, maybe it was about making sure he felt too at home to leave anytime soon.

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Time passed in a blur after that. I busied myself with dinner, sitting on the stool at the kitchen counter, a bowl balanced in front of me. The quiet was soothing, until I heard his footsteps again.

Greg stepped out of the hallway bathroom, and I almost dropped my fork. His clothes had changed, this wasn’t the buttoned-up version of him I knew. Damp hair clung to his forehead, a few strands falling forward, freshly washed. His T-shirt was different too, stretched tight across his chest and shoulders, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And the shorts… fuck. They cut off just above the knee, hugging thick quads dusted with dark hair. My eyes betrayed me before I could stop them, sliding down, tracing the strong curve of his legs. My cock twitched under the kitchen counter.

He looked younger like this, almost boyish…not the intimidating executive I answered to every day, but a man unwinding in someone else’s apartment. A man who suddenly felt five or six years younger.

“No issues with the shower, right?” I asked, forcing my eyes back up. I had gone so far as to stock the bathroom with fresh body wash and shampoo, like some over-eager host.

Greg came closer, and when his hand patted my shoulder, the warmth lingered longer than it should have. “Alex, man. This is too much. You’re too kind.”

I swallowed, smiling awkwardly. “No, no, Mr. Lawson…”

He cut me off, chuckling. “Mate, we’re roommates now. You can call me Greg.”

“Uh, but… Sir—”

“Come on. Only you call me ‘sir’ at the office. You know everyone else uses first names.”

He grinned, glancing down at his shorts before meeting my eyes again. “And I’m not that old, you know.”

That smile nearly knocked the air out of me. My throat went dry.

“Okay… Greg,” I said finally, the word tasting strange but good on my tongue. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure, man. Thanks a ton for all this.”

I nodded quickly, needing to move, to do something before I gave myself away. Grabbing my empty bowl, I carried it to the sink, rinsed it out, and slipped past him with a polite smile.

But my body was buzzing, every nerve alive. Seeing Greg like this.. relaxed, impossibly close was more intimate than I wanted to admit.

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Later that night, I kept thinking about Greg. Still stuck in my head…damp t-shirt, shorts clinging to his quads like they might rip open if he flexed too hard. If only the girls at the office saw him like that, they’d lose their minds. Hell, even I couldn’t get it out of mine.

And now he was in the room right next to me. Living here. This was going to be the new normal. Waking up, seeing him in the kitchen, maybe even going into the office together. Just existing around him was already messing with me.

I lay in bed, wide awake, wondering what he was doing right then. Probably unpacking, hanging up those expensive suits, arranging his cufflinks in neat little rows. I imagined his cologne filling the wardrobe, his shirts perfectly pressed, everything in control like always.

Except my head kept wandering to his body. His presence. The way his aura filled the apartment like I had no say in it. It made my mouth dry. Literally…I laughed at myself, but I really was thirsty.

So I got up. Walked to the kitchen. Took a long pull from the water bottle, but it didn’t help much. On the way back, my eyes just… went. Straight to Greg’s room. The door wasn’t shut all the way. Just cracked open.

I slowed down. My feet made no sound on the floor as I edged closer. I don’t know if I wanted to check on him, or just… check him out.

Inside, the lamp was still on. Greg was on the bed, shirtless, the blanket draped low over his legs. I caught a glimpse of his chest…broad, hairy, the kind of chest that made you understand why he always looked so good in a suit.

But that wasn’t what froze me there.

It was his hand. Down his shorts. Moving.

My breath caught. I stood at the corner, clutching the water bottle like it might save me from myself. Greg - my boss, shirtless in my apartment, jerking off just a few steps away. The sight hit me like a punch. I got hard so fast it was embarrassing.

And yeah, I knew he had a big dick. You could just tell with men like him. The way he carried himself. The quiet confidence. I imagined his cock thick in his grip, sliding heavy and hard under his palm.

I should’ve left. I thought about backing away, slipping into my room and pretending I never saw. But then my hand betrayed me. The bottle slipped, clattering against the floor. The sharp sound echoed down the hall.

Greg’s hand stopped.

Silence.

Then his voice cut through the air, deep and calm but sharp enough to freeze me.

“Alex… "

I was still half-bent over, fumbling to pick up the bottle, heart hammering in my chest. My throat felt tight.

And before I could answer, I heard his voice again

" Mate..you awake?”

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