Fabian Blanco
“You know why you’re here, right?” Mr. Gio, the head of maintenance, said the other day in his office, after I’d received that scary little text. A professor from the school stood over his shoulder, just looming, for no real reason at all. “You. And a student. Together. Explain?”
I kept my eyes on a plaque over his shoulder, avoiding both of their eyes. “Um. The thing is…”
“Yes?”
“Well. There is nothing to explain, because it won’t happen again.”
My supervisor leaned forward. I didn’t know what he was insinuating with the look in his eye, but I didn’t want to mess with it. “Blanco. I went out on a limb to get you hired. Don’t make me regret it. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then I left the room, but I knew the subject was not over. The look on that professor’s face said it.
I contemplated telling Adam about it for about two seconds before deciding against it. I knew it wasn’t fair, to have him keep talking to me while we were being watched like that. But what choice did I have? Actually, I hadn’t made the choice at all – fate had. My pulse had. His eyes had. The sky had…
And I did succeed in staying away from him – for a day, at least. Until that overpowering temptation drew me in again, and I was powerless to resist…
And then he abandoned me after twenty minutes and acted like he’d never even met me.
All that was on my mind for the next few days. I’m not going to lie – his rejection hurt. A lot. But it wasn’t the end of the world, as I’ve talked to enough closeted, or semi-closeted guys, to know exactly what it’s like to be with someone and know without a doubt that they are ashamed and embarrassed of your very presence. So I’ve decided to just push it out of my mind for now, and do my usual routine – my work and my workouts. Exercise is the only thing that helps me sleep soundly at night, and I’ve just headed into the campus gym – which is for both students and faculty, even though nobody’s ever in here – and smell something curious. Very curious.
It’s Adam.
And sure enough, it is him. I get that weird nervous, fluttery feeling around him that I’ve never gotten around anyone, and then I freeze. Oh, no. He looks delicious. He’s gotten a tan, and he’s in a black tank top that shows his surprisingly sizeable biceps. He’s not Arnold or anything, but the dude’s packing some heat. And his large shoes make me think he’s packing other kinds of things, too…things that are off-limits due to his religion…
Truth be told, the forbidden-ness of it all is just making me even crazier. If I can’t have it, if I can’t touch it, I want it ten times more. Sometimes, when I am falling asleep, I think I would walk the Earth for five free minutes with his body laid out across a bed. I mean, look at him now – he has that little hump in his shoulders that speaks of a strong back, his legs are thick and have a vein going down each calf, and something about him is so…naïve. So clueless. Maybe I could teach him how to please a guy in the right way…I’m sure he doesn’t even watch porn when he jerks off…he probably has no idea of what to do, the poor kid…
But then again, I’m supposed to be mad at him. So I nod a curtly, wave, and then head to the treadmill. I play Lady Gaga’s The Fame Monster on my headphones and start running. I glance back, as Alejandro begins, I notice he keeps glancing back at me in the mirror. Every time he does, my cheeks flush. Well, you know what? Great. He should be looking. He denied me the other day in broad daylight. He deserves a snubbing.
I really get into my jog, and then I do something unusual – I slide out of my shirt. I’m dripping with swear, so it can’t hurt, right? And okay, maybe I want him to see. When I glance back in the mirror, his eyes are large and he looks petrified. Poor guy. Maybe he shouldn’t have led me on and then walked away from me just as quickly. Maybe he deserves to see why I’ve modeled occasionally for some side cash. I don’t care about looks, but if I’ve got them, why not throw them in someone’s face who deserves it?
Gaga leads me on, on, on, and soon I’ve hit five miles. I love the way I feel after a good run, satiated and tired and…well, horny. But even more, I love the feeling of being watched. If I had a guy at home, I’d head there and ravage him right now.
But I’m not done yet. I walk over and take the machine right next to him without looking at him. As I start lifting the weights above my head, I slide my shorts up, up, up, and watch his eyes grow ten sizes. His shorts are dark, so I can’t see a bulge or anything, but I’m sure he’s hard. Good – he should be. It what he gets.
Finally he opens his mouth. Up close, he looks so beautiful it breaks my heart for a moment – his hair is curlier when he’s sweaty, and the sheen makes his face look bright and luminous. God, I don’t know whether I want to slap him or make out with him.
“So, um-” he says, but just like that I get up and head for the locker room.
“Great workout! See you later,” I call. Then I head for the showers, which are just a bunch of faucets in a large open area. If he has to see me, whatever. Let it happen. Maybe he won’t even come in. Maybe we won’t ever even speak to each other again…
I squirt some cheap body wash into my hand and then accidentally start rubbing my dick. I imagine that blonde hair is under me as he kneels there, worshipping me. I imagine rubbing my cock across his lips, so soft and pink…
And then I hear the door open.
His face appears through the mist. He stares at me like I’ve just run over someone’s pet.
“Shower?” I ask, not taking my hand off my cock, which although thick, is not immensely long. But I don’t care – I’ve never had any complaints. This thing hits every spot I need to hit, anyway.
For a moment my mind takes me back to that office, that confrontation where the professor told my boss I’d been hanging with students. But I don’t care about the danger right now. This thing is just too powerful. I feel it everywhere now.
“Um,” he squeaks, unable to talk.
“Yes?”
But he still can’t form words. “I, uh – steam room.”
And so he undresses behind the lockers and then disappears into the steam room across the space, his toned body hidden only by a towel.
I bite my lip as the water’s heat fades. Going in there would be the worst idea in the world, right? I’m an employee. He’s a student. Mixing is off-limits. So is the whole gay aspect, probably. And yet…there’s still no denying how bad I want it…
I hold my breath, turn off the water, and start for the steam room.