Dave was still sticky when he got back to work.
He hadn’t cleaned up. Hadn’t bothered. His jeans rubbed against the mess in his briefs with every step—wet, warm, slightly tacky—and it only made him harder. His thighs twitched. His cock kept rising again, slow and dumb and heavy, no matter how many times he adjusted himself or tugged at the waistband.
It wasn’t just physical.
It was him. His body. His brain. Like some wire had been crossed the moment he tapped Yes on that Chronivac setting—Familiar Partner Reinforcement. He hadn’t even read the fine print. Hadn’t needed to.
He was already feeling it.
Every time Matt came into view, Dave got hard. Not in a dramatic, cartoonish way—just a low, insistent pulse that rose through his balls and into his gut like a hunger. And it wasn’t just sight. It was proximity. The sound of Matt’s voice, the way he cleared his throat, even the faint smell of his sweat—it all hit differently now. Like his body had learned something and couldn’t forget it.
He caught himself staring again.
Matt was across the scaffolding, bent over a stack of lumber. His jeans hugged just tight enough around the curve of his ass. The fabric flexed. Dave’s cock gave a slow, sympathetic throb.
He looked away. Swallowed. Failed to focus on anything.
Partnered arousal link detected. Pattern strength increasing.
The Chronivac buzzed in his pocket, a soft pulse that felt more like a thought than a vibration.
Dave didn’t even bother checking the screen. He knew what it was.
Because it kept happening.
When Matt joked with another guy—Dave got hard.
When Matt wiped sweat off his forehead—Dave got hard.
When Matt’s voice dropped to that easy, lazy register—Dave got hard.
His cock was running on a separate operating system now. A new logic. It didn’t care if he was tired, or sweaty, or halfway up a ladder. It was just... ready. Anytime Matt entered his orbit.
---
Lunch was the worst.
Dave sat on the concrete lip of the foundation, sandwich in one hand, water bottle in the other, and a full-blown erection crammed into his jeans. Matt sat a few feet away, tank top rolled into a ball under his head, abs out, legs splayed wide like the sun had granted him divine ownership of the damn worksite.
And Dave just sat there.
Not talking. Not eating.
Just sweating and aching.
He could smell him. Taste memory. Hear the phantom sound of Matt groaning as he came—his body remembered that better than any name or face. His cock throbbed again.
Would you like to schedule another interaction with your reinforced partner?
Dave flinched. Looked at the screen.
The Chronivac was open again. Unprompted. Or maybe... he’d opened it without realizing.
His thumb hovered. His pants tightened. His mind flickered through a dozen scenarios—getting Matt alone again, finding a quiet spot behind the trailer, dropping to his knees without saying a word. Just to taste. Just once more.
He didn’t tap anything.
Not yet.
But the pressure was building.
And he could feel it—if Matt offered, even a little, he wouldn’t say no.
He couldn’t.
---
The rest of the day dragged.
Dave fumbled tools. Measured wrong twice. At one point he dropped a panel because Matt walked past and said “good work” without looking. His cock had surged, knees buckling a little, blood rushing where it didn’t belong.
This wasn’t just horniness.
It was feedback. Conditioning.
The app had wired the pleasure of that blowjob into his nervous system. Now Matt was a living trigger. A scent. A presence. An idea that got him hard before he even knew what he was thinking.
He glanced back at the app again.
Arousal memory active. Baseline now linked to partner presence.
Recommended action: Repeat sexual engagement to stabilize satisfaction profile.
His finger hovered again.
He tapped the screen off.
But only for now.