Bonus Scene: Strength Test🏋️ [Troy x Dylan]

Author's Note: I got so many messages asking for a bonus Dylan and Troy moment… so here it is! This scene is based on a fun request from one of my personal trainers—he wanted to see Dylan lift Troy like he weighed nothing. So enjoy Dylan showing off, Troy being thoroughly impressed, and the tension heating up fast 😏💪

All characters in this story are 18+
This story is completely fictional.
All acts in this story are fully consensual.



Jake had just left to meet some girl he swore was “different this time.”

Not five minutes later, I headed down to the basement—because I knew who else would be down there.

The moment I hit the last step, I stopped in my tracks.

Dylan.

Tank top clinging to his chest. Athletic shorts hanging low on his hips. One hand gripping a protein shake, the other curling a dumbbell like it weighed nothing.

The man was glistening. Not sweaty—just slightly dewy, like some fitness ad come to life. Lit by the soft, dim light overhead, he looked like someone sculpted him out of gym memberships and sin.

“Thought I’d find you down here,” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

I crossed my arms, pretending not to stare. “What are you even working out for at 9 p.m.?”

He flexed one arm—slow and casual, like it wasn’t for show. “Gotta stay pumped for the twink upstairs who keeps staring at my arms like they’re dessert.”

I rolled my eyes. I was not blushing. Definitely not.

Dylan set the dumbbell down with a light thud, tossed back the last of his protein shake, and pointed at the mat in the middle of the floor. “Get on.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You are not doing push-ups with me on your—”

“C’mon,” he interrupted, already walking toward the mat. “You hardly weigh anything. Spaghetti noodle.”

He dropped to the mat, palms flat, chest lowering as he adjusted his stance. “If you fall off, it’s your fault. But if you hold on—maybe you’ll enjoy the ride.”

I groaned at the innuendo but made my way over. “You know you’re impossible, right?”

“Yup,” he said, not even trying to hide his grin.

I straddled his back, carefully draping myself across him as he got into position.

Holy hell. His back felt like solid rock. Shoulders like boulders. His tank top had ridden up a little, exposing the line of muscle down his spine. My hands rested just above his shoulders as he started moving—smooth, steady push-ups like I weighed nothing.

I held on, practically hugging him. And that’s when I caught it.

His scent.

Clean, masculine, a little vanilla—probably whatever body wash he used. God, it was warm. Addictive. The kind of smell that made you want to bury your face in his neck and just breathe.

“You good up there?” he asked, voice smug.

“Yeah,” I said, more breathless than I meant to be. “You sure I’m not too heavy?”

“Barely feel you,” he grunted, pushing through a few more reps. “Might as well be a backpack full of tissues.”

I smacked his arm. “Rude.”

“True,” he said, grinning. “Don’t blame me for being strong.”

When he finally dropped to his elbows, I rolled off to the side, heart racing—and not from the ride.

He sat back on his heels, legs spread, arms glistening from the workout. His eyes met mine.

“Wanna see something fun?” he asked.

I raised a brow. “This better not end in the ER.”

“Depends.”

Before I could react, Dylan crouched in front of me, gripped my thighs, and lifted me.

Fully. Effortlessly.

My feet weren’t touching the floor. My back arched instinctively as he started bicep curling me.

“Dylan—I—what the fuck!” I gasped.

“You still think I only look strong?” he asked, voice low, arms flexing with every rep.

I clung to his shoulders, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every shift of his grip. The way his chest brushed mine. The way his veins popped beneath his skin. I was, unfortunately, getting very excited. Not subtle about it, either.

He held me up one last time before setting me down slowly, gently, like I was fragile glass. But he didn’t step back.

He stayed close. Very close.

“You like that?” he murmured.

I swallowed. “I mean… yeah. Little bit.”

His eyes darkened, voice dropping even lower. “You like feeling small around me?”

I nodded before I could stop myself. “Is it that obvious?”

He smirked. “Kinda.”

He leaned in, lips brushing my jaw. His chest barely grazed mine. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna ruin you on this bench.”

That was it. My brain short-circuited. My knees genuinely wobbled.

He took a slow breath like he was grounding himself, backing off before he said—or did—something worse.

Or better.

Depending on your perspective.

Dylan ran a hand through his hair, stretching his arms behind his head. His tank top rose again, exposing more of that ridiculous V-line.

“Alright,” he said, like he’d made a decision. “Now that you’re thoroughly impressed…”

He stepped forward. No space left between us.

His voice dipped to a whisper.

“I’m exhausted after this workout.”

I looked up, breath caught in my throat.

“Be a good boy.”

He reached for my chin, tilting it up with one finger.

“Get on your knees.”

📔 Troy’s Diary Entry 1 | Dylan x Troy