Gym Boys (22 page)

The twink unbuttoned his jeans and kicked off his shoes. “You pitch or catch?”

“Switch.”

The twink sniggered. “So you catch but you don't want to admit it.”

“Little boy, I could bend you over the shelves and fuck you dizzy,” Ken retorted.

The twink shoved down his jeans and kicked them off. “Take your best shot, Dad.”

Dan gestured at one of the onlookers. The man paled and pointed at himself.

“Towel,” Dan said.

“Oh, oh right,” the man said, laughing nervously. “Where's my head at.” He handed over the clean, red towel hanging over his shoulder. He flushed as Dan gave him a brief, almost cursory glance.

Dan threw the towel to Chad. “Wipe off the bench.”

Chad licked his lips and threw himself into the task, scrubbing every inch of the bench with his towel.

“Hey!” the last user of the bench protested, “I'm not that—” He trailed off at Dan's look.

Chad fastidiously folded the towel and handed it back to its owner. He'd watched with jealousy and a growing sense of arousal as Andrew had knelt like a supplicant. Now he was oppressively aware of the other men around him as he pushed down his sweatpants. He was aware of Andrew, watching and smirking.

He heard Dan stroll over and felt Dan's finger walk along his forearm. Chad turned and saw something like a smile or a snarl touch the corner of Dan's mouth. With Dan it was difficult to be certain, perhaps there was no difference. Dan captured Chad's gaze until Chad looked away.

“You might say please,” Chad managed.

Dan chuckled, a low, throaty laugh. “You might. Many have.”

Chad licked his lips. “Please?”

Dan nodded at the bench. Chad could feel him watching as he took a deep breath and then bent down, bracing his hands on the bench. Chad felt his ankles being nudged wider apart with Dan's foot. Then Dan's hand was on Chad's ass, pinching the firm skin between his thumb and forefinger. Chad licked his lips, wondering would come next. He heard a slight intake from the men around them and felt Dan's hand lightly slap his buttock. It was a sting, and then he felt the burst of warmth as blood rushed to the area.

“Hey!” Andrew protested weakly.

“Shut up,” Chad muttered as Dan slapped him again.

“Be a good boy or you don't get to watch,” Dan said.

Chad heard the rustle and thump of Dan pushing down his pants and boxers to the floor. He shivered when he heard Dan snap his fingers at the general assembly.

“Condom,” Dan said.

A score of foil wrapped little packets rained at Chad's feet. He heard Dan whistle lightly as he ducked down to pick one up. Chad jumped as Dan flicked Chad's ass with a finger. Chad raised his head as he heard Dan opening the condom wrapper. Andrew was watching with a mixture of shock and arousal. Chad smiled at his lover and then dropped his gaze.

Dan rested his right hand on Chad's ass as he reached around to stroke the other man's cock. Chad shifted his weight slightly; Dan was leaning against him and he could feel his tendons and ligaments stretching. It wasn't uncomfortable, yet. He almost jumped as Dan grasped his cock in a strong, commanding grip. He grew quickly to hardness as Dan pumped him with swift and brutal expertise. Chad's head hung down and of his audience all he could see were their feet, but he could hear their breathing and muttered comments.

He felt Dan's hand grip his hip and then Dan's cock thrust inside him. Chad moaned and felt himself rock forward onto his palms. He felt himself pushed up onto his tiptoes as Dan's thrusts came hard and deep. Chad groaned as he felt Dan's balls slap heavily against his ass, felt Dan's hand bruising his hip and felt the heat of Dan's breath on the back of his neck.

Chad squeezed his eyes shut. Heat was pooling in his groin and his awareness of the world was shrinking to his panting breath and hammering heart. Chad's fingers clawed at the bench and light burst across his closed eyes. He came with a creaking moan, spurting streams onto the floor, the bench and his own shoes. There were sniggers and catcalls from the audience but Chad didn't hear them. He knew nothing until he gradually became aware of his body moving, of his arms and legs shaking slightly as Dan continued to fuck him. He realized that Dan was holding him in place with an arm around his waist. That arm tightened as Dan came. Chad gripped the bench as Dan's weight pressed heavily against him, and then was gone. Chad yelped as Dan slapped his ass.

“Don't take all day,” Dan said.

Chad gingerly turned around and collapsed down onto the bench as Dan pulled up his pants and strolled away.

The twink wrapped his legs around Ken's waist as he was lifted up and crushed against the wall. He bit at Ken's mouth as his fingers grabbed at Ken's hair. Ken's fingers sank into his thighs as he supported the twink's weight.

“Come on,” the twink moaned.

“Patience, little boy,” Ken muttered. He shifted position, feeling his arms complain and ignoring it, and then thrust quickly.

The twink threw back his head, banging it against the wall, and tightened his grip around Ken's waist. His fingers twisted in Ken's hair, pulling his face closer, as they panted into each other's mouths.

“Harder,” the twink demanded.

“Shut up.”

The twink laughed and gave Ken a hard kiss. “You wanna pretend I'm your boy, the one on the bars? Fuck that. Look me in the face when you fuck me.”

“You're nothing like him,” Ken gasped.

“I'm better than him.” The twink dropped his hands and raked his nails along Ken's shoulders. “He won't fuck you.”

“You talk too much.” Ken dropped his weight forward as he came, crushing the twink between his body and the wall.

“Next time you'll have to gag me,” the twink said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He slid his hand between their bodies to take himself in hand.

“Don't tempt me,” Ken grumbled.

“Maybe tie me up too,” the twink said, closing his eyes.

“Blindfold?” Ken suggested, lifting his head.

“Helpless.”

Ken pressed his lips to the twink's ear. “I could tie you to the balance bar. Blindfolded and gagged. Not knowing who was touching you, licking you, fucking you.”

The twink's feet drummed against Ken's ass as he came, groaning deep in the back of his throat. He dropped his forehead against Ken's shoulder and let out a heavy sigh.

“Great.”

“Great for you, I think my arms are about to drop off,” Ken muttered.

Angel hurried along the corridor. He didn't know where Ken had gone and frankly he didn't much care. What was playing on his mind was finding the weight room before Ken found him. He didn't know if there was any fun to be had there but he was damn sure there was no fun to be had with Ken.

As he loped along the cool corridor he attracted plenty of attention, but he had his sights set on a bigger prey. He slipped into the weight room and found the smell of sex and the mild embarrassment of near strangers pushed into intimacy. There were a mix of ages but most of them seemed either tense or sheepish. None of them had the swaggering confidence Angel expected to see from the man he was seeking.

“You lost, lad?” asked one of the men.

“Someone told me Dan Lyon might be in here,” Angel said blithely.

Two of the men at a bench, a couple in matching sweats, exchanged knowing glances.

“You missed him, kid,” the short, stocky one said.

“He's gone to the locker room,” said the other one.

“Thanks very much,” Angel said nicely, turning to stroll away.

He ignored the bickering that broke out behind him. The locker room wasn't far away and anticipation put a zest in his step. Ken wouldn't approve, but Ken didn't approve of much. Angel suspected that the other man was nervous the infamous Dan Lyon wouldn't
want
to screw him.

Angel pushed open the door to the locker room and sauntered in. The room had the same scent of socks, sweat and Axe body spray as locker rooms everywhere. It was empty apart from the leonine man dressing in the corner. He was a little shorter than Angel, but broad and muscular. His thick, fair hair fell to his shoulders in loose curls and there was a stylized tattoo of a roaring lion on his back. Angel let the door swing shut behind him and watched as the other man cocked his head.

“You lost, little boy?”

Angel stepped forward, and realized that the man was standing in front of a speckled and scratched mirror.

“I'm exactly where I was planning to be.”

The man turned. He was handsome in a hard, self-aware way and he looked Angel over with frank appraisal. Although he was only a few years older than Angel he obviously meant himself to be intimidating. He sauntered over to Angel and raised an eyebrow when Angel stood his ground.

“I don't know you.”

“I don't know you either.”

“I'm Dan Lyon,” he said. It was said calmly, not a boast but he was expecting the name to be recognized, and the meaning to be understood.

“My trainer makes sure we're not here when you are,” Angel said. “But today couldn't be helped.” He shrugged easily.

“He doesn't want you around me.”

“Or he doesn't want you around him, I'm not sure.” Angel smiled sweetly. “You're not a particular topic of conversation.”

Lyon chuckled and shook his head. “He's not here. You are. Why's that?”

“Reasons,” Angel said, smiling.

Ken stomped along the cold corridor, his soles squeaking on the hard floor. When he'd returned to the floor there had been no sign of Angel. He'd checked all the little rooms in which Angel could have secreted himself and found nothing. Asking around had got very little information until he reached the weight room where the answers he got had not pleased him.

He grabbed the door to the locker room and yanked it open. He paused before he stepped into the room, listening to the sound of the showers. Ken swore softly and stepped into the locker room, shutting the door behind him. Someone had left open the door between the showers and the locker room, allowing steam to swirl around the locker room and condense onto the cold metal doors. Ken heard a moan from the beyond. He cautiously opened the door and peered into the steamy, humid room.

He saw two young men, naked and soaking wet. The taller had long blond hair pushed back from his face and a lion tattoo on his back. Water poured down his skin, flowed around his muscles and pooled around his feet. The other…the other was Angel. His dark hair was slicked down against his skull and streams of water flowed down his treasure trail and into his groin. The blond and Angel were wrestling for dominance; pushing, shoving, slipping and sliding as they groped, grabbed, kissed, bit, scratched and thrust.

Ken leaned against the door frame. Lyon and Angel were oblivious to his presence. He watched Angel snigger as he pushed Lyon against the wall, and nip as his throat. Angel's body was slim and toned. Lyon's hands passed over it hungrily, caressing his thighs, ass and back. How many other men had those hands possessed and how many hands would enjoy Angel? Ken slid his hand into his sweats and wrapped it around his cock. It swelled at his touch, excited at the sight and sounds in front of him.

Lyon's hands gripped Angel's ass and pulled him closer, his fingers massaging the creamy, fine flesh. He lowered his face to bite Angel's shoulder, wide, deep, sucking bites that made Angel grunt and rake his nails down Lyon's back. Angel's fingertips caressed the mane of the lion tattoo and ran with the steaming water. Lyon gripped Angel's thighs and lifted him slightly, bringing the younger man up to his tiptoes. Lyon thrust between Angel's thighs, his cock sandwiched between the strong, taut legs. He came with a deep growl that made Ken's breathing deepen.

As Lyon closed his eyes and breathed deeply, Angel stepped back. He wrapped his hand around his cock and used long, deliberate strokes to urge it to completion. He rested his other hand against the wall as he leaned forward. His shoulders shook as his ejaculate pumped out, spattering against Lyon's stomach and groin. Lyon's eyes snapped open and stared at Angel in stunned surprise. Angel laughed, and kissed him once. Then turned and sauntered toward the door.

“Enjoying the view?”

“I don't… I just…”

“I wouldn't let him catch you there,” Angel said, “he'd eat you alive.”

BAGGED
Jake Rich

W
hen a couple of the trainers at the boxing gym mentioned hanging out after closing time one Friday night, I thought for sure I'd finally died and gone to heaven. I can't ever get enough of that place. In fact the L Street Ring is just about the only place you'll find me these days, except for doing the nine to five thing. Hell, I get high just walking in there.

It's the sounds that always hit me first. The timer, buzzing out a three-minute round, a thirty-second warning and a one-minute rest. The grunts from throwing punch combos on the heavy bags. The three-beat rhythm of speed bags and the sound of air being sliced to bits with jump ropes. And that's nothing compared to what you see.

First thing I saw was a heavy bag swinging on a chain from the ceiling. Then one of the trainers grabbed it with a bear hug and held it so another obvious newbie could try out the one-two combination.

“Keep your chin in, your elbows in. One. Two. See? That's better. One, two, one, two. That's it. Keep moving around the bag.” The trainer let go of the bag and gave it a little push so it had some sway to it. Then he saw me trying to figure out what the hell I was even doing there. I was just standing there looking lost and watching sweat, fists and feet flying all over the place.

Then some blood splattered to the floor from a busted-up nose.

“Who'd you be?” the trainer asked, walking over to me.

“Phil. I'm new here.”

“Yeah, you're new to here all right. You got Mexican wraps and gloves? Get changed, then come get me. I'll wrap your hands for you.”