Bondage
Jem had a problem.
It was the same problem he always had, and he was sick of it. He always, always, fell for the wrong guy. The guy who couldn’t fall for him, or wouldn’t.
Lingering on the fringes watching Mac take clients was a totally kosher activity for a gold star, but watching out for Mac wasn’t the whole reason he was doing it.
Only fifteen minutes until the end of shift, anyway. Then they’d drive home, hang out at the house, eventually fall asleep in separate rooms, even if they’d cuddled for a few hours first.
Oh god, Jem was so screwed.
Penny approached Mac on the far side of the room and Jem abandoned all pretense that he was doing something other than spying. He was only a little surprised when Lupe came up to stand beside him.
“He won’t do it,” she said softly.
“No.”
Penny had decent luck getting training staff members to do things she knew they weren’t supposed to do—she’d nearly gotten Jem in a private room when he was training—and he hadn’t fully ruled out the idea the the Professor might be using her as a test.
And Mac faltered, but only for a second. Jem held his breath. Lupe crossed her arms over her chest.
Then Mac recovered and gestured to a bench.
Good boy.
Oh, god, god, this was so bad. Jem was so lost. He’d known the second they met that this was a possibility, because Mac was exactly the kind of guy he always went for, except a little more sweet, and a little less…something else.
Lupe hooked his arm and tugged him toward the door. “Come.”
“I should—”
“He’s fine. Travis is watching out for him, and you better believe Edward will kill anyone who makes Mac uncomfortable. Come smoke.”
Jem didn’t smoke. But Lupe didn’t invite people to take smoke breaks with her to share her cigarettes.
He followed, mustering his arguments, his defenses. It was fine. He had it under control. There were rules, and he would obey them. He’d made them. It didn’t matter that he looked forward to cuddling with Mac like it was medicine, or that he’d twice now had fevered, terribly arousing dreams about Mac, and Coach, and making love like people who didn’t work together, who didn’t have an excuse, people who chose each other.
Jem so desperately wanted to be chosen. Instead of the walk to the roof giving him time to get himself together, all of his edges were more ragged by the time Lupe swiped her card.
He walked immediately to the far side, overlooking the parking lot, and stood there shivering in the wind.
Lupe stood beside him, like she had on the floor.
“I don’t want to do this again,” he said finally. “Why do I always do this?”
“You have a type.” She blew smoke up into the air.
“My type is ‘unavailable and doesn’t want me back.’ I want a different type.”
“Honey, your type is ‘wants you back and is unavailable.’”
Jem snorted. “And the difference is what?”
“Narcissism. An obsession with someone who doesn’t, will never, love you back is hopeless. Your obsessions are always with boys who you reasonably think might return your affections. And you always think if you’re good enough, they’ll act on that.”
“You think of Coach as a boy?”
“He is. In this case especially. A little boy won’t do the things he wants.”
“Mac called him out about it the other day.”
Lupe turned and nudged him back toward the wall. “Tell me about that.”
“He asked Coach why he wouldn’t take us home with him, which is what the Professor said he wanted.” He made a face. “Or, she said he wanted to take Mac home, anyway.”
“I’m not indulging your need for reassurances. You know damn well Coach would walk through a burning building if you were inside it. What did he say to Mac?”
“That it wasn’t our role to go home with him. That it shouldn’t be his. What does that even mean? I thought it was about him taking advantage of us, but I don’t know, Lupe.”
She didn’t answer right away, taking another cigarette out, lighting it, averting her face.
Jem loved looking at Lupe’s profile. He loved looking at her in general. He’d asked Coach if it was fucked up, that the mix of masculine and feminine in Lupe especially inspired him. It felt like a betrayal, even though he saw her as a woman.
Coach had shrugged and asked what he found attractive—her appearance and the way she played with aspects of gender as if she could make them do anything she wanted, or the courage it took to do that every day. And yeah, some of it was the effect, but Coach was right: some of it was that Lupe made Jem want to be brave, too.
“It’s hard to be around them. Even when they include me, I’m still on the outside.” He waited for Lupe to tell him it wasn’t true, that he was making it up.
She turned, pinning him to the wall with her hips, cigarette burning down in the hand that landed beside his head. “You want to be with men who don’t think they deserve to be happy. They are well matched in deficiency.”
“So I’m right.” He attempted a self-deprecating smile. “It’s all doomed.”
Lupe looked right into his eyes and Jem bit his lip. He’d give himself to her, with pleasure, with trust, and because she was so much more careful than she let people see.
I see you, Lupe. I see you. He couldn’t say it. She’d laugh at him if he did. She didn’t think anyone really saw her, probably not even Coach or the Professor. But he did.
“Did you and Mac drive in together?”
He blinked. “Yeah.”
“Good. We’ll take your car.” She backed off and ground the cigarette out, tucking it away. “Let’s go shower. Shift’s up.”
“Take my car where?”
“Come on.”
They encountered Mac on his way up to smoke and he blinked at them, looking vaguely taken aback. A sick, sad part of Jem’s brain was momentarily pleased, as if making someone else feel left out somehow evened the scales.
He felt instantly bad. “You want company?”
“He doesn’t need company.” Lupe grasped Mac’s chin in one hand. “Smoke fast, shower fast, meet us in Coach’s office.”
Mac swallowed. “Okay.”
“Good boy.”
Mac’s eyes locked onto Jem’s, maybe remembering the same thing—him, on his knees, and Jem’s hand in his hair. Good boy. He blushed.
Lupe released him. “Oh yes. Change of plans. And it’s Friday, how fortuitous. Go smoke.”
“Yeah, okay, Lupe.”
When the door shut behind Mac, she turned to Jem. “I’ll need you for the next part. Shower, then the Professor’s. If you see Coach, avoid him.”
“What’re we doing?”
“Giving him what he needs.” She spun around toward her locker.
Jem considered the ambiguity of the whole thing and decided to go along with Lupe. It was always simpler to go along with her, and it usually paid off. He had been certain letting that stupid bet run its course would be bad for Lupe and especially bad for Mac, but it actually seemed to have helped cement his role in The Gym.
Plus, going along with Lupe was always so much less painful than fighting with her.
* * *
Jem was the first one to the Professor’s office. He kicked his feet up and poked around on his phone until she finished at her computer and knocked his legs off the couch.
“What exactly do you want?”
He shook his head. “Not me. Lupe. She has some sort of plan.”
Gazing at the Professor was a different sort of pleasure. He loved her, but there wasn’t any molten core of attraction and sex to it, the way there was when he looked at Coach. In some ways, he held back less with the Professor. He assumed she could read his mind, which made it a lot easier to be honest with her.
“You told Coach to take Mac home last week?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What I say to Coach is between me and Coach.”
“And Mac, apparently.”
“I don’t have a problem with jealousy, Jem, but you do. Is there some reason you’re raking yourself over the coals right now?”
He wouldn’t quite stoop so low as to lean on her—the Professor didn’t give physical comfort; for that he went to Coach—but he did lay his head on the cushion again. “You know I want to be the center of attention. That’s all it is.”
She was still staring at him when Lupe knocked and waited a beat before stepping inside. The Professor, Jem noticed, didn’t even bother calling, “Come in.” She knew Lupe’s knock. She knew Lupe would walk right in.
She didn’t sit. She stood over them, looking down. “What are the chances he’ll refuse me if I invite myself and the boys over to the house?”
“Do I look like his keeper to you?”
“You look like someone who already got involved and wants to control it.” She shrugged elegantly, rolling her shoulders. “Sorry, mami.”
The Professor crossed her legs. “Who exactly are you trying to save right now?”
“As if I’d bother. Let them save themselves. I’m just along for the show.”
“You aren’t the worst liar I’ve ever met.”
Lupe snapped impatiently. “Chances, what’re the chances?”
“Oh, I’m not voicing either support or censure for this plan. I do look forward to seeing how it turns out.”
“You are an insufferable female,” Lupe said, in a slightly vicious voice, which would have fooled Jem if he’d known them less well. Then she leaned down and kissed the Professor on the lips. “Fucking bitch.”
“Go save the world.”
“That is not how I get off.”
“Denial’s an adorable look on you, Guadalupe.”
“You think I won’t use your name?”
The Professor smiled. “Leave me now.”
Jem pushed up and poked Lupe. “Come on. We told Mac to meet us next door.”
“Did you?” The Professor raised an eyebrow. “Chances just increased. Excellent strategy.”
That pinch again in Jem’s chest, that desire to seek overt approval. It was worse because he cared about Mac and couldn’t just dismiss him, even if he was Coach’s favorite.
“Oh, Coach is always more predictable when you give him a little bit of warning. Shock him too much and you risk him doing something truly uncalled for.”
“Like refusing you?”
“Only a fool would refuse me.” Lupe snapped her fingers again. “Jem. Come.”
He still had the presence of mind to muster his usual tone. “I’m no fool.”
No matter what else was happening, or how confusing Lupe and the Professor were, hearing Coach’s “Come in” and walking in to his office always felt right.
Mac was sitting, stiffly, on one of the couches while Coach sat on the other, which meant that Coach had sat down first. Because Mac always picked sitting alone over sitting with someone else.
Jem took the spot beside him and grinned over. “You were fast.”
“Lupe said to be fast.”
God, that expression, slightly disoriented, mistrusting. Why the hell was this Jem’s preferred form of catnip? He wanted to kiss the look off Mac’s face and make everything okay. He hoped he was hiding that effectively.
Coach and Lupe were having a staring contest. She hadn’t sat down.
“You happy to see me?” she asked.
His voice was guarded, but he didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Always.”
“Good. Now get your keys, we’re meeting you at the house.”
Coach kept himself neutral, because he’d been prepared, but Mac went very, very still. Like he stopped breathing. Jem reached for his hand and after a second Mac relaxed enough to let him hold it.
“Sister Lupe. It ever occur to you that I have good reasons for the things I choose not to do?”
“Oh, you have reasons you think are valid. I just disagree.” She knelt, abruptly shifting the energy in the room.
Jem had never seen Lupe on her knees like this, as a supplicant. She was no less magnificent looking up at Coach than she had been looking down. Coach leaned forward, as if unconsciously, in response.
“You’ve been trying it your way.” She offered her hands and he took them. “Try it my way once.”
“You don’t know everything, my queen.”
“I know that there is love in this room, and that you are the first to preach accepting it. Can you?” She kissed the knuckles of one hand, then the other. “We’ll meet you at the house.”
“You remember the way?”
“Oh, Coach.” She got to her feet. “Come, children. We’re taking your car.”
Mac glanced at Coach as he stood, but he followed Lupe without comment. He knew it was always safest to follow Lupe.
“It’s all right,” Coach said, for Jem’s ears only. “You aren’t being disloyal.”
And maybe Jem hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but it wasn’t inaccurate.
“I will see you in a few minutes. Go with Lupe.”
Jem nodded and went after them.
* * *
The house was, literally, only a few minutes away. Of course Coach and the Professor owned a house within minutes of The Gym. Aside from Lupe’s terse directions, no one spoke as Jem drove.
They weren’t quite on the outskirts of town, but The Gym had been around for fifteen years, and it was probably on the outskirts back then. The subdivision where Lupe directed him didn’t seem that old, and the house they eventually parked in front of was clean-cut and perfectly normal.
In a bewildering, uncomfortable way it reminded Jem of where he’d grown up, the outsider within, never fitting correctly in any of the boxes they’d tried to put him in. His mouth was dry as dust, sitting there in the car, waiting for Coach to pull his truck into the garage.
Lupe tapped a long fingernail on the passenger side window. “There’s a spare key, but we aren’t going to use it. Not tonight.”
“He was pissed,” Mac said. “I hate it when he’s pissed.”
“Because you don’t trust him completely yet.” Tap, tap, tap. “I didn’t either. Not until I pushed him way too far.” She swiveled to look at Mac. “He’ll forgive you anything. Just remember that.”
“What did you do?”
“Story for another time. Or never. Let’s go up.”
They waited on the front porch and Jem made sure he was behind Mac. Mac would always hang back if you let him, and dammit, he didn’t get to do that if he was the key to Coach’s resistance, if he was the one Coach would do this for.
Jem leaned his forehead into Mac’s neck. “Sometimes I’m a horrible person.”
A tentative hand brushed over his head. “You are not.” Such sweet faith.
The door opened. For a long moment Coach just surveyed them, and this time Lupe did nothing. She weathered his evaluation as if she hadn’t just busted into his office and insisted they go home with him.
Then he stepped aside. “Welcome to the house.”
“Is that…capitalized?” Mac asked. “You know, like The Gym?”
Coach cracked a smile. “No, it’s not capitalized. Get your asses in here.”
Lupe went in first, like she lived there, dropping her purse on a hook by the door. Then Mac, much more hesitantly, like he was waiting for someone to scold him for touching things.
Coach hooked Jem in close and kissed the side of his face. “You’re pensive tonight. How can I serve you, Jem?”
By picking me. By falling in love with me. By being a totally different person so loving you wouldn’t hurt quite so much.
He bit his lip.
“I’m making food!” Lupe called.
“She’s so presumptuous.” Another kiss, then Coach released him. “Mac, for fuck’s sake, quit acting like a puppy in trouble for pissing on the furniture.”
“I’m not a goddamn puppy,” Mac grumbled. “Why do people keep saying that?”
“It’s an irresistible comparison. I’ll give you two the tour while Lupe makes a mess in my kitchen.”
The living room was sedate and impersonal, leaving Jem awash in the eerie sensation that time had doubled over, and his mother and father could round the corner at any moment. They’d always cared how people saw them more than they’d cared about anything else; this could be their living room.
The family room, which Coach called a den, was more lived-in, but still didn’t really feel like either Coach or the Professor.
There was an actual workout room. Coach had a gym in his house. At least it smelled like him—his sweat, his body pulling hard. Jem’s mouth watered. Judging by the color in Mac’s cheeks, so did his.
That was good. He let his arm brush against Mac’s, and Mac swallowed hard.
“Upstairs has the office and the bedrooms. Not interesting.”
Coach’s bedroom? Endlessly interesting. But Jem obediently followed to the backyard, where Coach lit up a gorgeous blue pool steaming in the dark.
“This is the crown jewel of the estate right here.” He wrapped an arm around each of them. “You should definitely take a swim before you leave.”
Mac shook his head. “No way. It’s fuckin’ freezing out here, Coach.”
“Pool’s heated.”
“Jesus. Rich people.”
“Creature comforts, boys. Let’s go inside.”
Lupe had made a huge pan of scrambled eggs with chives and red peppers and onions chopped up into them. She served them without fanfare, dividing the pan into four equal parts. “Mac, get orange juice. Glasses are to the left of the sink. Jem, grab the cheese out of the fridge for whoever wants it. Coach, ass in chair.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Breakfast is served.”
The kitchen didn’t feel quite as showy as the rest of the house, but it was still too clean, too unused. Did Coach not eat when he was home? And when Lupe had proposed this plan, Jem didn’t imagine she had scrambled eggs in mind.
“Thanks for making food, Lupe,” Mac murmured, looking down at his plate.
“You’re welcome, hermano.” She sat at the head of the table, across from Coach. “You did well today with Penny.”
“I freaked out first, even though I knew what to do.” He glanced up at Coach. “It was just like you and the Professor said. She said she was shy and could we step off the floor just for a minute. She didn’t even ask for a room, like maybe just being in the hallway would be okay. I almost went along with it.”
Coach nodded. “I heard about it from Trav. He said you were perfect.”
Mac, true to form, had no idea how to react to that, so he just kept eating his food. If Jem had been next to him, he probably would have tousled his hair or something.
“Said you’re still noticeably uncomfortable with bondage, though.”
“Thought bondage isn’t at my level?”
“Nope. It’s not. But when the clients can see you, try not to look disgusted by the things they want. Even if they’re working with a different staff member.”
Mac shifted in his chair. “’M not disgusted.”
“I didn’t say you were. I said try not to look disgusted.” Coach glanced over at Jem, then Lupe, as if considering something. “Important to pretend sometimes. Part of the job.”
“It’s just…some stuff still seems like it should be…private. Or something.”
“Is that what it is?”
Lupe tsked. “Don’t be absurd. You know that’s not what it is.”
“Would you let Mac answer questions directed at him, please?”
“Not if he’s going to lie.”
Coach shot her a look and focused, instead, on Jem. “Why did you avoid women?”
“Because they were scary. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do with them.” He shuddered in remembered fear. “And I thought you’d fire me if I couldn’t do it.”
“I would have never fired you. Lupe, who’d you avoid when you started working?”
Jem didn’t think she’d answer, but she seemed to muse about it as she finished her breakfast.
“Oh, everyone, I guess, at first. It’s why I started picking people myself. Because it was the only way to do my job and skip the part where I’d have to interact with clients on their terms.”
“And why did you avoid everyone?” Coach asked patiently.
She reached out and did the thing Jem had wanted to do, ruffling Mac’s hair. “Because I thought they’d know me for the imposter I am. But they didn’t, Mac. People—and especially clients—will slot you in to whatever role they want you to be in. Coach is right. Conspicuously shunning certain things on the floor will give the appearance that you are not putty they can mold into whoever they need, and that will not be good for your bottom line.”
“I don’t mean to…shun anyone. Or anything. I just…don’t know how to look, or not look, or pretend two guys aren’t currently tying a girl to a weights bench.”
“I have an idea about that,” Coach said. “Finish your breakfast and we’ll see how we can help Mac with his aversion to restraints.”
Mac’s head went down even lower. “I thought…I mean…you said…”
“I meant what I said. Finish your food.”
Coach had said they weren’t restraining Mac. But if they were restraining someone, who did that leave?
Jem sat in his chair, feeling like a spotlight was burning down on his head. Lupe wouldn’t go for it. Would Coach? Maybe. But Jem was the obvious choice. Jem, with his love/hate relationship with being tied up, the desperate edge of how much he liked it warring with the sick feeling in his gut when he couldn’t move.
“Yes.” Lupe pushed back from the table. “Mac will help me clean while the two of you go get ready. And decide which one of you I’m restraining.”
Mac’s head snapped up, locking eyes on Jem. He’d screwed up that scene last week; maybe he owed it to Mac to show him what it looked like when it was good. Mac wanted to see, even though it made him uncomfortable because he wanted to do it, too, and just wasn’t ready yet.
“You done, Jem?” Coach’s tone was a little emphatic, a little insistent.
“I’m done.”
“Good. Come upstairs. We’ll be in the bedroom, Lupe.”
“I know.”
Jem began to gather his plate together, his utensils, but Lupe waved him off. “Go. We’ll get this. Mac’s a good little worker bee. Right, Mac?”
“Bite me, Lupe.”
She gasped in mock outrage. Jem could still hear her ranting about how gentlemen should speak to ladies as he walked down the hall after Coach.
The bedroom. Did that mean Coach’s bedroom? And Lupe knew, so what did that mean? He could imagine her tying Coach up, fucking him, spanking him (that was all hot), but sleeping with him? Impossible. He couldn’t imagine Lupe sleeping with anyone.
And that didn’t feel like quite the right vibe, really, for Coach and Lupe. Snuggling deep in the night, holding one another. He couldn’t see that from Lupe any more than he could from the Professor.
Up the stairs, down another hall, lined with closed doors. In through the only door that was open, a wide room, the master bedroom maybe, though it only had a huge bed and a few mismatched dressers. And a door to a bathroom, but it was too dark to see inside.
“Is this your room, Coach?”
“Uh huh.” Coach stripped off his clothes and left his shorts, then lay back on the bed. “Get your skinny, freaked out ass over here. What the hell is going on in that skull of yours?”
Jem pulled his shirt off and surrendered, letting Coach hold him. Wishing like hell it was real, or at least that Coach holding him meant the things his body so very much wanted it to mean. “You know restraints get to me.”
“I know you’ve been like this all shift and restraints aren’t part of it.”
Playing with Coach’s chest hair was grounding. Smelling him was grounding, too.
“My Jem.”
Jem tried to keep his expression clear of need and desire, but he probably failed.
“I hate hurting you,” Coach murmured, arm tightening around him.
“I’m okay.”
“You are such a good man. You deserve everything you want out of life.”
“I guess I must have it, then. The Gym, my friends, you.” He forced a smile. “I have you, don’t I, Coach?”
But Coach wasn’t fooled and didn’t pretend to be. He traced Jem’s eyebrows, nose, lips. “You know it isn’t in me to be what you need. I carved that part out of myself a long time ago.”
“I think it’s still there.” Jem smiled again, knowing he must look like he was wearing a mask. “I think you feel it sometimes when you look at Mac.”
There. He’d said it. He could barely look at Coach now that his folly and his sick envy was right out there in the air between them.
Coach kissed him lightly and pulled his head down until it was nestled on Coach’s chest. Maybe he couldn’t look at Jem, either.
“I feel different things when I look at each of you. Trust me, nothing I feel is whole. Absolutely none of it is worthy of your jealousy, my Jem.”
He closed his eyes. “Can’t help it. Love you too much. And probably him, too, which makes it worse.”
“Oh, he might be worthy of you eventually. When he gets his head on straight.”
“He’ll never be you.”
Coach kissed the top of his head. “I will never be worthy of you. Believe me. You want Lupe’s ropes tonight? I have no problem doing it.”
“It’s ropes?” Ropes were the worst. Buckling restraints were just a few seconds of holding still, but ropes required extended, active consent.
“Oh, Lupe likes ropes. I’ll do it. I like ropes, too.”
“Lupe tying you up is pretty hot, Coach.” He let his fingers comb over chest hair and tattoos, then pressed a kiss into Coach’s skin. “I’m sorry. It’s harder sometimes. It’s harder with him because he’s around all the time and I’m so close to the edge with him. You know?”
“Way too well, yeah. I checked in with the Professor before I left The Gym, by the way. It isn’t just Mac she’s tried to get me to take home over the years.” One hand gripped his and pressed it over Coach’s chest.
“Is Lupe the only one you did take home?” Jem told himself it didn’t matter, but he still wanted to know.
“Nope. It’s rare, though.”
Lupe’s laughter echoed in the hallway. Jem started to pull back, but Coach didn’t let him. Kept him close. After a second he relaxed fully into Coach’s arms and closed his eyes.
“Very cozy,” Lupe said. “Now, I could actually restrain them just like that, which would be a pretty picture, but I have other ideas. You two decide who’s my victim?”
Coach kissed the top of Jem’s head again and released him. “Like I’d pass that up. How do you want me?”
“Have you been doing your pilates lately?”
“If I say I have, are you going to tie me up like a pretzel?”
“Ready to be eaten, you can be assured, Coach. On your knees. Better for your back if we do this on the bed or the floor?”
Coach contemplated as Jem got up and went to stand beside Mac. “The floor. But do me a favor and grab one of those folded up blankets for me to sit on. I’m old.”
“Mac, hall closet’s the first door to the right facing the stairs. Look for gray wool.”
“Will I know what wool is?”
Jem patted him on the head. “I’ll come. And one of these days I’ll explain fibers to you.” What a relief, a profound relief, that he felt more like himself. At least for the moment.
They brought back the gray wool, which was probably the highest quality blanket there; a surprising amount of Coach and the Professor’s linen closet seemed like it had been bought at Mac’s old discount store. Lupe carefully refolded it and placed it in the center of the most open part of Coach’s floor, then gestured to him.
“On your knees, spread wide, arms back. You are my medium.”
He stripped off the boxers, grinning. “Oh, I’ll be your medium any day.”
It didn’t take as long as Jem expected. Time probably went slower when he was the one being tied up. Lupe was efficient, and Coach always seemed to anticipate what she needed him to do. By the end she had his thighs tied to his ankles, knees spread, arms securely bound behind him not just at the wrists, but in a cuff up his forearm. She lectured him about flexibility, and how at his age he should be focusing on that more than anything else, but Jem thought Coach was still plenty flexible.
When she was done, Lupe stood right in front of Coach for a long moment, looking down at him. He looked obediently back up, amused and pleased. “You did good, kid. I feel very secure.”
She lifted his chin with a fingernail. “I am not your kid.”
Coach didn’t say anything, but his smile widened.
“You are an unbearable old man. I should have beaten you first.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Mac,” Lupe said, gaze still on Coach. “Come here.”
Mac glanced sideways, and Jem tried to communicate It’s totally okay and Actually it’s pretty hot with his expression. Mac did as ordered, of course. Mac always did as ordered, which made Jem a little thankful his friend had been a prickly bastard all those years, since a guy with that kind of compliance underpinning him was vulnerable as hell.
“Sit right here and stare at Coach.”
“Um. Stare at him?”
“Yes.”
Coach raised an eyebrow. “Oh, goody. I love looking at Mac.”
“Jesus,” Mac mumbled. “Lupe, this seems dumb.”
She smacked the back of his head. “That’s because you aren’t smart enough to figure it out. And take your shirt off so we can look at your ink. I don’t get to see nearly enough of it on the floor.”
Mac sighed, and obeyed, and Jem folded his shirt and put it on Coach’s bed.
“Jem. You here. Behind Mac.”
Behind Mac could mean a lot of things. He shrugged and stood where indicated.
“I want you to talk Mac into an orgasm, but you can touch him, too.”
Mac craned his neck around. “Wait, what?”
Lupe smiled at both of them. “We’re giving Coach what he needs. Two hot, devoted men performing for him while he is under no obligation to guide or participate or do anything but appreciate. This is what he needs.”
Which was all wrong, and simultaneously perfect. Lupe was an evil genius.
Jem was in so much trouble.
“Uh, do I get a vote?” Mac sounded choked. “Because I vote no. I don’t want to be your damn medium.”
“Technically you’ll be Jem’s. And of course you do. The same way if I’d insisted—and they’d let me—you would have been my subject to restrain.” She turned to Jem before Mac could react, letting him get angry while she wasn’t looking at him. But Jem was. He saw the anger, the fear, the flash of exposure and humiliation. The desire to run.
He stepped forward, around Lupe, and knelt. “It’s okay. We won’t if you don’t want to.”
“You do?”
“Get you off while Coach watches? Uh, what part of that do you think I’d say no to? Sounds hot to me.” Which was true, but he didn’t look at Coach while he said it. He leaned forward to kiss Mac’s cheek. “But we don’t have to. I don’t want you to…” For a second he couldn’t find any words. Then he did, and nearly couldn’t bring himself to say them.
But that was weak. And Jem tried very hard to be strong, even when he felt like he was a candle’s flame, flickering in a draft.
“I don’t want you to ever regret anything we do. If this, right now, seems like something you might regret, then let’s not.”
“I never…I’ve never regretted anything with you. Even if we did…more. I wouldn’t regret it.”
I might. Jem made his tone playful, though he wasn’t sure he brought it completely off. “So you want to play a little for Coach’s pleasure?”
Mac swallowed. “Oh god. When you say it like that it sounds so…”
No one helped, or suggested. He floundered for a long moment and Jem was tempted to kiss him again.
“It sounds so dirty.”
“Yeah. That’s what’s hot about it.”
Coach cleared his throat. “Oh, that’s hot, but it’s not even close to my favorite thing going on right now. Though if you two could hurry this up a little, that would be great. I’m way too old and inflexible to be kneeling this way.”
Lupe nodded, shooting him a look. “Pilates and yoga, but not that bullshit combination they do that doesn’t really hit the high notes of either. And Coach is right. Perform, my monkeys.”
“Dude. What is it with you guys acting like I’m an animal?” Mac blinked up for a long moment at Jem. “I don’t like being the only one who comes.”
“Take that up with Lupe. I’m just carrying out orders.” This time he deepened the kiss and Mac responded, arching up toward him. I’m so lost. Oh god.
It was fucked up of her to ask him to do this when she knew how he felt. Except on the other hand she was giving him exactly what he wanted: an excuse. To be with Mac. To be with Coach.
In some ways, this was a gift. In others, it was a mindfuck. Jem pushed everything out of his head and went to work. Lips coaxing Mac’s lips, hands soothing over Mac’s skin, up his neck, into his hair. Pretend he’s a client you’re serving. Except Mac could never be that, and wasn’t. He was a friend, an intimate in a way. Never a rival, though, no matter how petty Jem might get. Coach might not feel the same things for them, but Mac was only barely aware of all that.
Mac would never see any of it the way Jem did. He didn’t get how special Coach’s attention was, or Lupe’s.
Or even Jem’s.
But in a different way, he was over-awed by all of them, as if he didn’t think their attention was special, but he still believed it was more than he deserved. Though he’d stopped talking about how he just wanted to do a job and get paid.
“Look at Coach,” Jem whispered, shifting until his body was behind Mac’s.
Mac made a noise of protest, but Jem didn’t have to worry; Lupe would make sure he followed directions. All Jem had to do was seduce him, make love to him, make him come. The two men he most wanted in the world, right here in this room.
He sent his mind away and let his hands and lips work over the smooth planes of Mac’s skin, over ink and hair and the soft skin of the insides of his wrists, the rougher skin of his elbows.
When Lupe spoke, her voice was low. “We should torture Coach like this more often. The two of you are magnificent. Keep your eyes where Jem told you to keep them, Mac.”
Mac stiffened, but Jem applied his tongue to Mac’s vertebrae. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.
He played Mac higher and higher, only touching and teasing his upper body until Mac was moaning, head back against Jem. Sure, he wasn’t looking at Coach anymore. He wasn’t looking at anything. His eyes were closed and his hands were clenched into fists.
Which is when Jem slid fingers over the outline of Mac’s cock through his jeans.
“Oh fuck, please—”
Jem made sure his lips were right against Mac’s ear. “You can come now.” He’d had a couple of tricks up his sleeve, but he didn’t need them. Mac came with a groan, thrusting into Jem’s hand while Jem looked up at Coach from under his brow.
Coach was riveted. Coach was…staring right at Jem.
Mac shuddered and Jem embraced him hard. “You did good. You were beautiful.”
“Shu’p, Jem,” Mac mumbled, pressing his face into Jem’s neck. “So embarrassing.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice.” Coach sounded amused. Then again, when didn’t he? “I’d like to be free, now, please.”
“Hmm. I suppose I can do that for you. Well done, boys.”
Jem didn’t think he was particularly awkward in general, but Mac seemed to make everything awkward, and extracting himself, red-faced, from Jem’s arms was no exception.
“Bathroom?”
Coach directed him down the hall before turning to Lupe. “You and Mac came in Jem’s car?”
“We did.”
He rooted around in his pants for a moment, producing a set of keys from which he carefully extracted a ring. “Take him home in the truck, then leave it at The Gym. Okay?”
Wait, what? Why aren’t I driving?
“Sure thing.” She stepped in closer, lightly kissing his cheek. “Do you forgive me?”
“Anything. Everything. For the record, you could have asked.”
“Figured it made more of a point if I insisted instead.”
“Mission accomplished.” Coach framed her face in his hands, and Jem looked away, sensing there was far too much there for witnesses. They didn’t speak, though. Just stood there until Mac walked in from the hallway.
“Whoa,” he murmured. “Intense.”
“I know.” Jem raised his eyebrows. “Was I okay?”
Mac swallowed, looked away. “’Course. And anyway, I meant what I said. We leaving?”
Coach cleared his throat. “You and Lupe are leaving. I’m keeping Jem as my prisoner overnight.”
For a second—but only a second—Mac’s face froze. Then he turned back to Jem and said, “Let me guess: hot?”
“See, you’re getting the hang of things.”
“Cool. See you whenever you get home. But like…how are we getting home?”
Lupe jingled the keys. “Taking the truck. Let’s go fuck with all of Coach’s radio presets.”
“You do that and I’m firing you.”
She laughed. “You wish. The Professor would never fire me for that.”
Coach sighed heavily. “Too true. In fact, do me a favor and don’t tell her.”
“Oh, I’m feeling generous. This time. Come along, Mac.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Do not call me ‘ma’am.’”
He saluted instead, offering a tilted grin.
“I’ll walk the two of you out.” Coach used two fingers to draw Jem’s chin over until their eyes locked. “You stand right here until I get back.”
Jem wanted to say something cheeky and expected; for some reason he could only nod instead.
“Good boy,” Coach said, holding his gaze.
Jem’s eyes dropped. What the hell was happening to him? And why was Coach keeping him at the house, where he clearly wasn’t that comfortable having anyone? To make the point that Jem was special? He listened to the three of them walk down the hall, down the stairs, and considered going after them.
He hated being trouble. He hated being a problem Coach needed to fix, which was clearly what he was right now.
But he couldn’t possibly turn down the opportunity to spend the night. So he stood there until Coach got back.
* * *
“Jem, my Jem. Close your eyes.”
Jem took a breath and closed his eyes.
Coach moved in close behind him, covering his eyes with gentle fingers, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. “Whatever happened to that boyfriend you used to talk about? The one with the funny name?”
“Onyx.” Jem wondered what he’d said to Coach that Coach remembered a guy he dated for a few months over a year ago. “He said I didn’t have enough time for him. Or that I didn’t ‘prioritize our relationship.’”
“Ah.” Coach inhaled right beside his face. “Would you prioritize any relationship outside The Gym?”
Jem’s eyelashes fluttered. He fought to stay still and not turn around. “You mean outside of you? It’s not really the job I like about the job, Coach.”
“Oh, I think it’s a little bit about the job. You know I’m not boyfriend material.”
“I don’t even want a boyfriend.”
“No. I believe that.” Coach’s hands slid down his cheeks, down his neck. Jem kept his eyes closed while Coach shifted, hands not stopping in a track up and down. “But you want someone. And you know I can’t be that person.”
It was too hard just to accept what Coach was asking him to accept. “Won’t isn’t the same as can’t.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t date at The Gym.”
“And you do?”
Coach laughed. “I don’t date, period. But I get crushes and fixations. I have favorites.” He nuzzled in to kiss Jem’s throat. “I don’t hide them as well as I should. The Professor hides hers much better.”
“I’m glad you don’t hide that you like me.” That much was at least wholly accurate.
“It’s not always been easy for you to be seen as one of my favorites. I’m trying to learn from that.”
“I know. You’re really ambiguous with Mac on the floor. No one has any idea you like him as much as you do.”
“Except you.”
Jem shrugged, and to his deep, aching relief he meant every single word he said. “I’m glad you like him. He needs it. I don’t know what the deal is with him, but sometimes it’s like no one’s ever been kind to him in his entire life.”
“Or he didn’t notice because he was so intent on being untouchable.”
Something clicked and Jem turned around. “I’m missing something. Something you want me to see, or discover, on my own. Just tell me, Coach.”
Coach surveyed him, eyes looking back and forth between Jem’s. “You know I will be happy to have you on staff for as long as you want to be on staff.”
“Yeah…”
“But I’ve seen a lot of people come and go, and I have a feel for it. You won’t be with us forever, my Jem. You are meant for so much more than this.”
Chest pain meant what? Heart attack? Panic attack? Jem’s shoulders hunched slightly and he began to turn away, but Coach caught him up and hugged him tightly.
“Stay for as long as you want. You know I mean that. But you also need to know that The Gym is not your only option, and even after you move on you will always be welcome to visit us, Jem. You won’t lose me, and you won’t lose the Professor. And I doubt you’ll get rid of Lupe, though she’ll pretend.”
“Lupe would never speak to me again if I left.” Even the idea of it— “I’m not leaving. I wouldn’t. I can’t. I love The Gym. Why are you saying this?”
“Because you asked, and this is what I want you to see. The Gym is not the terminus of your life. It’s a way station.”
“But I can’t go anywhere! What else could I do? I would hate being a normal trainer. And I’m not qualified for anything else.”
Coach kissed his temple. “You have more than enough money in the bank to go back to school. What do you want to do?”
Work for you forever. Except that wasn’t exactly true, either. Jem detached and sat down at the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been trying not to think about it much, but ever since I got my gold star it’s kind of…I don’t know. Like, that was my big goal, and it took two years, and now it’s done.”
Coach sat beside him, legs wide, leaning over to brace on his knees. He didn’t look over. “So. What’s your next big goal? Because I don’t think it’s a boyfriend. And I don’t think it’s me. I think that’s a distraction.”
“You are not a distraction, Coach. I love you. For real, not just because you’re some screwy version of a best friend and an older brother and a father and a lover all rolled up into one person.”
“Oh, love is one thing. But I think if you figured out your next big thing, the thing you want to work toward, it would clarify other stuff for you. Like your relationship with The Gym.”
“You mean with you?”
Coach slid to his knees, wincing a little as he pulled Jem’s hands to his shoulders. “You aren’t in danger of losing me.”
“I’m always afraid of losing things I love. And you’re saying that I should…think about leaving The Gym. And that’s horrible, Coach. That’s a horrible thought.”
“Only because you haven’t figured out what you’re replacing it with yet. Once you have that, I think you’ll find changing directions is less fraught than you imagine. Talk to the Professor. I guarantee you she’s got at least three different potential futures all worked out for you.”
“Seriously?”
“Old hobby of hers. She told me once that she could have dealt with Ryan’s suicide, except he’d completely screwed up all of her plans for him.” Coach smiled, the old, tired, sad smile Jem associated with Ryan. “I always kind of envied her for that. I wasn’t brave enough to imagine his future. Or mine.”
Jem leaned over to kiss him. “I wish I’d have been able to meet him.”
“If he’d lived, we wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing. And she and I definitely wouldn’t have gotten married. But I wish you’d have been able to meet him, too.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, kid. But get in the bed first. I wouldn’t turn down a massage, either.”
“Old man.”
“Oh yeah. One of these days I gotta learn my damn limits. Or take up yoga more seriously.”
They rearranged, stripping down to underwear, and Jem wasn’t exactly shocked to find massage oil on the bedside table. “Thought you didn’t date, Coach?”
“A man can’t rub his own muscles down? You kids today!” Coach groaned when Jem started in on his shoulders. “Oh god. I’m putty in your hands.”
“Just how I like you.”
“Ask your questions. Now’s the time. I’m defenseless.”
“You’re never defenseless.”
Coach groaned again.
“Just…you and the Professor. Why…how…would it have shocked Ryan that you two ended up together?” Jem braced himself to be told it was none of his business (it felt like none of his business).
“Sure. We hated each other when we were younger. God, she was such a know it all. And she thought I was a dunce. Actually, she still thinks I’m a dunce.” He smiled, profile visible to Jem as he worked on Coach’s back. “I don’t know, really. Ryan was…oh, there was something about him, some core to him, that I never all the way knew. Maybe it was fear, or shame. I’m not sure. But where I turned everything into anger, he turned everything into competence. He made everything into something he could do. Hell, maybe I’m projecting him on you, but I see that in you sometimes. Maybe Mac will take training, maybe he won’t, but it will never be the driving force of his job the way it was for you.”
“That’s probably healthier.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Never allowing yourself an attachment, only allowing yourself the deepest attachments. I think they’re two sides to the same coin.” He groaned again. “Massage therapy. The money’s not over the moon, but you’d be incredible at it.”
Jem kept working, turning the words over in his head: massage therapy, go back to school. “I wouldn’t leave The Gym for anything I didn’t love.”
“Good.”
“I could…try out some things, while I’m still working. I mean, take some classes. I know people do that.”
“Talk to the Professor. There are good programs, ones that go a lot deeper than the intensive we use. And you can also branch out from there. You ever thought of being a therapist of some kind?”
“A therapist? I couldn’t do that, Coach. That’s like…a career. I mean people study for a long time and take tests and stuff to do that.”
“There are a lot of options. And you’re twenty-five years old. You have plenty of time to find a career if you want one.”
“I guess I kind of figured I’d…stay. At The Gym. I have retirement savings, you know, Coach. I have the house almost paid off, or at least I will have the house paid off in the foreseeable future.”
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long until you own the house outright?”
“Six years. Ish.”
Coach whistled and shifted his weight enough to indicate he was moving. Jem rose onto his knees so Coach could flip. “Six years. Damn, boy.”
Sitting astride Coach, who was only in shorts, wasn’t exactly a hardship. Jem kind of forgot what they’d been talking about. “Huh?”
“Stay with us for six years, then. At the outside. I assume you need to maintain a certain income level for that repayment plan?”
“Yeah. Well, the tenants offset it a little, but I try to funnel most of that money into the house account because it always needs a new water heater or the exterior needs to be painted or the furnace goes or whatever.”
Coach smiled up at him. “Four years ago, when we met, would you have imagined yourself a homeowner?”
“God, no. I had like two pairs of shoes.” He ran his hands over Coach’s chest, the intricate designs of his ink, all that puzzling, gorgeous, luminous Coach-ness of it all. “You guys like taking in strays.”
“Not all of them. But some of you, yes. Some of you we see burning so brightly we can’t help ourselves.”
“But why?”
“I assume we’re both doing it because someone should have for Ryan. Someone should have seen everything he had to offer the world and given him a hand up when he needed it. Someone other than us should have seen how fucking amazing he was, and no one did. It’s a terrible thing, kids taking their lives. All that potential gone in the blink of an eye.”
Jem let himself down, resting his cheek over Coach’s heart, the darkest part of his tattoos. “I know it’s not what you want, and it’s not even really what I want, but sometimes I wish I could be whatever he was to you. Or that I could be something different, but something…healing. I wish loving me would help you love yourself the way you deserve, Coach.”
Arms wrapped around him. “Oh, I think that’s how it works, in very small ways. I think Mac is a different man than the one we hired, and that’s mostly down to you being his friend.”
“Is not. He sucks you in like you’re air he’s breathing.”
“Sure. Because I’m a man his brain tells him is a threat, but I show him only care and tenderness and love. He needs that, I agree. But he gets it from Lupe, too. And more than both of us, my Jem, you have held that boy close to you, taken him in to your generous, beautiful heart, and that’s by far the most impactful thing that’s happened to him lately. You. Don’t think I don’t realize how hard it is to keep to your cuddling rule.”
“We’re not allowed to drink and cuddle. I don’t know if I can trust my judgment. He’s just so…”
Coach’s hands roamed up and down his back. “I know. And I think we’ve only seen a little bit of what he can be.”
Jem sighed. “It’s hard. Because part of me really wants to take it way further. Part of me wants to justify it because I know he’s never had that before, never really experienced what it’s like to love people and trust them and live with their love and trust.”
“But.” Coach’s voice held no question, as if he was simply implying all the complications, all the potential landmines.
“But,” Jem agreed. “He’s young, in a lot of ways. And he might actually be straight. Romantically, I mean. Though I don’t know, I think he’s pretty hot for you.”
“You don’t feel any tension coming from his direction? Because I see some. Not that I’m making an argument for or against. It’s a complex situation, and there are no easy answers.”
“Yeah. Except…sometimes. Sometimes we cuddle and I think to myself that if it only lasted a few weeks, a few months, wouldn’t it still be worth it? There’s such thing as being too prudent, Coach.”
Coach reached down to squeeze his ass. “There certainly is. You want to work off a little bit of that restraint energy with me right now?”
“I require your service, Coach. But you’ll have to comp me.”
“Done.”
Sex with Coach was always good, always felt clean and purifying. They showered up after—in Coach’s bathroom, which was clearly where all of his personality was expressed; it had a heater that blew down right outside the door of the shower so you could stand in it to dry yourself off. Then they changed the now somewhat oily sheets and slept beside each other.
Jem wanted to stay up just looking at Coach, but he was exhausted and fell asleep.