The locker room hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant clank of hangar machinery. Steve sat on the wooden bench, the thick black rubber of his flight suit creaking softly with every shift of his powerful frame. The suit clung to him like a second skin—vacuum-sealed, pressurized, every inch engineered for the extreme conditions of their high-altitude recon flight. Beneath it, nothing but bare skin and the relentless pressure of the custom sheath gripping his heavy cock.
Frank stood over him, one gloved hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder. The reflective visor of Frank’s helmet hid most of his expression, but Steve could see the intensity in his partner’s eyes through the clear faceplate.
“You good, Lieutenant?” Frank’s voice came through the suit comms, low and slightly rough. “You’re breathing a little hard already.”
Steve’s cock throbbed painfully against the tight, form-fitting sheath. The internal tube pressed firmly along his length, the soft rubber-lined interior already slick from the first beads of pre-cum. He tried to adjust his posture, but the thick hoses running from his groin to the waste bag only made the confinement more obvious. His balls felt heavy, trapped and aching.
“Yeah… just the usual pre-flight jitters,” Steve muttered, his voice tight. His gaze lingered on the way Frank’s own suit hugged every ridge of muscle, the prominent bulge at the front of his jockstrap clearly outlined. Steve’s mind flashed to the last mission—how they’d both ended up rock-hard and leaking after hours sealed together in the cockpit, the suits turning every small movement into an intimate tease.
Frank’s hand slid down from Steve’s shoulder, tracing the reinforced straps across his chest before resting just above the complex array of hoses and valves at his waist. “You know what this does to you,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth visible through the helmet curling into a smirk. “Seeing me all geared up like this. Sealed. Ready.”
Steve’s breath hitched. His cock surged again, straining hard enough that the sheath pulled taut, the pressure bordering on exquisite pain. A small spurt of pre leaked into the collection tube. “Fuck… Frank. Not now. We’ve got thirty minutes till wheels up.”
Frank leaned in closer, their helmets nearly touching. The faint reflection of the locker room lights danced across the glossy black surfaces. “Then you’d better calm that big dick down, McMiller. Or I’ll have to help you empty those balls before we take off.” His gloved fingers brushed lightly over the front of Steve’s suit, right where the sheath bulged obscenely. “Wouldn’t want you distracted up there…”
Steve groaned softly, thighs clenching. The suit’s internal systems hummed faintly as his heart rate spiked. He was already leaking steadily now, the waste bag at his hip beginning to warm.
The two suited pilots sat in charged silence for a moment, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of rubber and masculine musk trapped inside their sealed gear. High-altitude flight was going to be a long, hard one tonight.
