In the dimly lit room, the scent of fabric softener and precum fills the air. The man in boxers stands, legs slightly apart, as the other approaches, his hands tentative yet eager. He traces the outline of the erection straining against the cotton, feeling the heat, the throb. He grips it, rubbing firmly, his hand moving faster, more confident. The man in boxers gasps, his breath coming in short pants, his hips moving in time with the rhythm, his cock leaking precome, staining the fabric.