The Trainer (10 page)

“Alright, alright,” Chris said with a small chuckle, doing his best as his arms and chest quivered.

“No pain, nooo gaiiin.” Buck groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.
What the fuck,
Chris thought,
is this guy for real?
Again, Chris was rolling his eyes and suppressing giggles of hysteric laughter in spite of the tremendous physical pain. He wished Mason was there so they both could laugh about it. God, Mason. There he was again in his thoughts.  He had to get him out of his mind, but whatever he did was not working.

By the time they got through the fourth exercise, Chris was barely able to walk
, and he was shaking his head in disbelief at the crazy lines coming out of Buck’s mouth. Mason had pushed him hard, but that was nothing compared to what this robotic Ken- Doll-monster was doing.

Chris finished the last repetition of chest presses and felt like he was having a heart attack. He sat up and rubbed his sore shoulders
, and was about to beg for a break when he saw him standing there in the distance.

It was Mason.

They just stared at each other, frozen. Mason looked hurt. He turned away.

“Hold up a second,” Chris told Buck as he jogged over to Mason, who was halfway out the door, “Hey Mason. Mason
.”

Mason kept walking until Chris caught up with him and touched his shoulder, “Hey, what’s up?”

Mason yanked his arm back, and spun around to glare in Chris’s face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What does it look like? What are
you
doing here?” Chris demanded back.

“So, your phone is broke or something? Can’t answer your door either?” Mason asked sharply, his eyes two knives of ice.

“I...Mason, I can explain. I was just trying to protect myself.”

“From me?” Mason asked, agitated.

“No, I mean. Well, yes.”

“That’s fucked up,” Mason said, turning around to walk away.

Chris grabbed his sports bag and headed out the door after him as Mason kept walking.

He pulled Mason by the arm, “Please, listen.”

Mason turned around. “What?” he said dryly.

They just stared at each other for a second. God
, it was good to see him, Chris thought, even if he was burning up with anger and probably would never speak to Chris again. Chris swallowed, trying to figure out what to say.

“Look, I should have called, I should have text
ed back. It was...”

“Fucked up?” Mason suggested.

Chris’ apologetic face said it all. “Of course it was. I never said it wasn’t. But I’m a fucked up person right now. My whole life, everything’s a mess. Nothing has made sense until you came along. And I...I just can’t explain. I was already hurt. I didn’t want to get hurt again. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, but I just can’t get hurt again,” Chris said, tears filling his eyes. He suppressed them and looked away. “I’m sorry. It’s so dumb to cry about this shit. I don’t want to make a scene here. Can we talk at my place? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Mason clenched his jaw, softening
it by seeing Chris’s tears.  “Okay. Sure.”

“Meet me there in like ten minutes? I have to sign out with Frankenstein's
monster,” Chris said, gesturing back at the gym.

Mason, in spite of his anger, broke a smile. “Okay.”

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CHAPTER 1
8

M
ason couldn’t believe that he was back in Chris’ apartment. He stood in the entranceway as Chris set down his things.

“Take a seat,” Chris suggested.

Mason stood stationary, his arms folded. “I’m fine right here.”

Chris sighed, “Suit yourself.”

They just stared each other down until Chris turned away and headed toward the kitchen, “Can I get you a cup of tea? Coffee? Or a smoothie?”

“Come here,” Mason said with such force that it startled Chris.

“Now,” he said a little calmer.

Chris did as he was told. The force and masculinity in Mason’s tone was both alarming him and turning him on.

“Listen up,” Mason instructed, “What you did was not cool with me. Nobody deserves that. When I call you, I expect to be treated like a man and I expect you to act like one. I don’t let anyone disrespect me like that. You hear me?” Mason asked. His tone was never loud, just iron-firm and cold.

“Yeah, I know it’s just
...”

“I’m not finished.” Mason said, “I thought we were cool. I thought we could talk about anything.”

Chris sighed, “I’m sorry, Mason.”

Mason stepped closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered.

“How sorry?” Mason’s voice rumbled; so close Chris could feel his body heat.

“Very sorry,” Chris replied.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me,” Mason said.

“Yeah?” Chris asked anxiously.

“Do you really?” Mason asked.

“Yeah,” Chris said, “I’m really sorry.”

“Then prove it,” Mason’s skin was damp with the perspiration of the humid day.

Chris caught the scent coming from Mason’s body. He shivered and looked up into those gorgeous hazel eyes. Mason’s hands reached for his own belt and unstrapped it, then flipped his fly button open and began to unzip his zipper.

“Show me,” Mason growled. “Get on your knees.”

Chris shivered, looked down, then up. His nostrils flared, he licked his lips and sank to his knees. The wood floor would tear his knees up, but he didn’t care; it was going to be worth it.

“Unzip it,” Mason told him, “Nice and slow. I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“Okay,” Chris said nervously.

Mason lifted his chin to look at him
, dead serious. “When I tell you to do something, I want you to say ‘Yes, sir.’ ”

“Yes,
sir”, Chris replied softly, feeling waves of heat rushing up from his crotch to his face. He was so aroused, he was streaming pre-cum and trembling with excitement.

A smile slid across Mason’s lips, “That’s what I like to hear. Now do it. Nice and slow, like I said. Show me how sorry you are.” Chris pinched the zipper and gulped as he slid it down, feeling his mouth water at the thought of what was about to happen. He was three
-quarters of the way down when Mason’s swollen cock began to burst from the opening. At last, it fell out like an elephant’s trunk, half-hard and massive. It was long, yes, but mostly, it was thick and smooth and veined. Chris wondered if he’d be able to fit it in his mouth, but he was willing to gag trying. God, it looked so juicy and delicious, he wanted to worship it, and he could smell Mason’s natural odor, making him intoxicated.

Mason grabbed him by the back of his head.

“Suck it.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris murmured, opening his mouth and tonguing the massive cock into his mouth. He closed his eyes as it slid in and filled up
his whole mouth before Chris ever got down to the halfway point of the still semisoft rod. His left hand gripped the back of Mason’s thigh, his right hand enclosed around those weighty, trimmed balls.

He slurped and sucked back and forth; God, it felt good in his mouth, so full, so thick, just perfect. Mason let out a deep sigh.

“That’s it,” he said, throwing his head back as he pulled Chris’ head forward to swallow the rest of it. Chris almost gagged. “Come on, you can do it,” he said. “You love that cock don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm, yes
, sir,” Chris vibrated, and he meant it: all nine inches of it. He had only once ever even seen a cock that big, when he walked in on a roommate in college masturbating. The image had been a source of haunting lust the whole rest of the semester.

Mason groaned in ecstasy
. Little did he know, but he was benefiting from a lot of Tim’s hard work: their whole relationship, he’d trained Chris very thoroughly how suck a big cock and deep throat it without a moment of discomfort. He taught him how to twist it and jerk it, to let it roll out of those thick lips then back through his wet hot mouth and not stop taking it deep down until he was told to. He did every trick in the book to please Mason: tricks most women were either too small to perform or would never have the natural motivation to learn. But unlike Mason’s long line of female lovers, nothing turned him on more than pleasing a big, masculine man.

“You really are sorry, aren’t you
, Chris?” Mason said, biting his lips to contain himself.

“Yes,
sir. Very,” Chris said, coughing a little bit as he pulled the cock out just long enough to answer the question. A long line of spittle hung from his glistening lips to the head of that massive tool. He licked Mason’s balls then blew cold air on them then down Mason’s stem.

“Oh, fuck
.” Mason said. “Jesusss,” he seethed.

Chris did it again, this time taking each ball in his mouth, popping them out to lick the whole underside of the shaft
.  Mason fell back into the couch and Chris ripped his jeans open so he could devour every part of him.

Mason’s heavy hand caressed the back of Chris’s neck and shoulders.

“Good boy,” Mason purred, “slurp on that dick.”

Chris moaned in overwhelmed arousal
. His own cock was rock-hard, pinched into the waistline of his shorts, and it was sticky in a hot slick of pre-cum, rubbing back and forth as he moved, tantalizing him even more.

He relaxed his throat and dove down, and took all
Mason's cock deep down, letting it slide until his nose was buried in Mason’s dense bed of pubic hair, smelling the musk and strength of his pheromones, whimpering in overwrought ecstasy.

Mason jolted and thrust his hips outward in a spasm of uncontrollable lust, “Oh
.” he grunted. Chris stroked the man’s tense, rippling abdomen and let all nine inches slide from his lips, his eyes watering, before diving down and thrusting the whole thing back down to his throat, milking the cock up and down again and again, sucking and squelching noises making Mason hornier and hornier.

Chris tightened his lips around the head, squeezed Mason’s testicles
, and twisted his head as he dove up and down until the constant, velvet warmth on his cock made Mason grip the sides of the couch, groan loudly and gasp until he tensed his whole body as he exploded in Chris’ mouth. Spurt after salty spurt went down Chris’s throat and he swallowed every creamy drop. He jerked that rod a couple more times for good measure, cleaned off the helmet with his tongue, and gazed longingly up at his master.

Mason looked completely exhausted. He saw stars
and felt tingling in his fingers and toes. He panted like he’d been sprinting.

He stroked Chris’s hair, running his fingers through its shining locks.

“Fuck,” he finally said in exhaustion, grinning broadly. Chris smirked.

“Sir?” Chris said.

Mason’s eyes met his.

“Do you forgive me now?” Chris asked.

A smile spread across Mason’s face. He couldn’t help but laugh.

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CHAPTER 19

N
eedless to say, Mason forgave Chris, and they grew closer and closer over the course of the next few weeks. It was business as usual in the mornings, with Mason training Chris, whipping him into shape; but in the evenings, though, they tried to tame it down. Chris would pop over to Mason’s and relieve his stress one way or another.

But it went beyond fooling around.
Although they hadn’t gone past oral sex yet, and Chris was dying to do so, he just enjoyed Mason’s company. And Mason enjoyed him too. Chris had never hung out with a boyfriend who never owned a TV, much less paid attention to him the entire time they hung out. He was easy to talk to, to laugh with, and strangely enough, just to sit with in silence (sometimes), or to lay together on their backs on the floor of his house, listening to music and staring at the ceiling.

Mason encouraged Chris to write more than anybody in his past. He revered the pages that Chris showed him, and was awed when he held a copy of Chris’s book, finally published in the
States by Penguin Books. The way he had held it, open-mouthed and flipping through the pages like it was a book of magic spells, had made Chris blush.

Sometimes they’d go to the park late at night
, to sit and watch the night sky, or to listen to the birds or the rustling noises of the creek below.  They would not say a word, and that was just fine; it was more than just fine, it was magical.  With Tim, he always had to think about what to say first and Chris had hoped it would be of interest long enough before Tim tuned him out or literally got up and left in the middle of the conversation. But with Mason, he could talk about anything, and he’d just listen; and sometimes, they’d just not talk about anything at all, and that was okay. They didn’t need to.