Navel
Mac’s last official day of training started out with a text from Lupe: Breakfast at Coach’s again. Pack a bathing suit. Or don’t.
He didn’t manage to hide his wince from Jem, who’d of course gotten the same text. “What’s up? You don’t want to go swimming in that pool? I can’t wait to go swimming in that pool. Do you think Coach agreed to this, or Lupe’s just taking over again?”
They were sitting on the kitchen counter at the house with a pot of coffee between them. And they’d done this before all the—everything else—but somehow that didn’t matter. It still felt different. Better. Mac bit his lip and tried to make his mind bend in the opposite direction of where it seemed to be headed. “I don’t know, but knowing her, she probably just showed up with some food and told him how it was going to be.”
“I’m totally excited to go to the house again. Like, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for years and it’s finally happening. I get to see the house!” Jem grinned and yeah, he really shouldn’t be allowed to just do that, like without warning, because it made Mac hot and uncomfortable.
And hard.
“We should be getting ready to go,” he mumbled. “Um.”
Jem laughed and jumped down off the counter with the express purpose of stepping between Mac’s legs. “You worried Lupe’s going to ask us to have sex in front of Coach again?”
“That wasn’t sex! That was you—you making me—not both of us—”
Jem laughed again.
“Shut up!” But he didn’t mean it, and Jem clearly understood that; even now one of his hands was teasing the front of Mac’s jeans.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Mac?”
Then they were kissing, and laughing, and Mac fought vertigo. This could not be his life. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He ran his fingers into Jem’s hair, because Jem liked it, and because he liked doing things that made Jem feel good. And none of this could possibly be real, because Mac didn’t have thoughts like that.
“Shh,” Jem whispered in his ear. “It’s all right. Let’s head to work.”
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t right that the best moments were the ones that made him go quiet, pull back, but he couldn’t seem to stop. And Jem was so nice about it, which was wrong, because Jem—Jem, of everyone Mac had ever known—deserved a hell of a lot better than a dude who froze up on him a hundred times a day.
Jem started whistling. “I seriously can’t tell you how excited I am to go back to the house.”
“Are you capitalizing that in your head?” Mac asked suspiciously, pushing Jem away so he could jump down.
“Maybe I am. Hey, you want to borrow a bathing suit?”
“I’m like…bigger than you.”
“Aren’t you ever, boy.” Dammit, Jem with the winking and the flirting and the—
Mac growled. “Stop that.”
“Anyway, I was actually going to drive us to the store and buy you a suit on the way to work if you needed one.”
“Uh. I guess we could do that.”
This time Jem, alerted by whatever it was in his brain that made him so damn good at knowing what people needed, paused. “You really don’t want to go swimming?”
Shit. “No. I mean yeah. That’d be good. I’ll go get ready for work.”
Not that Jem bought his BS, but Jem let him get away with it this time.
He didn’t even know why he was bothering to pretend. It wasn’t a thing he could hide if they actually went in the pool. But somehow saying, I don’t know how to fucking swim was too damn much. Jem would probably pity him—how the hell many adults didn’t know how to swim?—and right now, directly after all the kissing, Mac couldn’t take pity.
All the kissing. Jesus. Who the fuck’s life was this, anyway?
* * *
Mac felt good on the floor. Next week he’d be able to go into the private rooms, and yeah, that was like a whole new thing to be stressed out about. But on the other hand he had a pretty damn good handle on what people seemed to like, so it didn’t matter if he was doing it on the floor in front of everyone (and the Professor’s gazillion cameras), or if he was doing it in a private room (in front of the Professor’s gazillion cameras).
After two weeks of training with Travis he finally felt like he was settling in to how his body felt. Today Trav had even told him he was looking more solid, which might have been a comment about building muscle, or might have just been a comment about looking less like he was about to drop the weights on his feet. It didn’t matter. He felt more solid, in all ways.
Some of that was down to Jem. And the conversation two days ago that had led to them doing…whatever it was they were now doing. Which meant kissing and cuddling and spending long hours wrapped around Jem’s body, or with Jem wrapped around his. Mac had always assumed having people this close would destabilize everything in his life, that people were just these terrible variables he needed to constantly guard himself against.
But Jem didn’t feel anything like that. Being seen by Jem felt like a gift, even in moments like this one, catching his eye across the floor, a spark leaping between them.
Mac grinned. Jem grinned back.
“Hey, hello.”
Mac wiped the expression on his face and turned to the client clearly trying to get his attention. “Hey. I’m Mac.”
“I’m Charles.” White guy, thin mustache, dark rimmed glasses. “You, uh, available?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
Client approaches came in a few categories. Most of the people who wanted service on the floor were either totally direct about it, or totally indirect, the “I could use some help with my hamstring” type, who felt Mac up with their foot while he massaged their knee. This Charles guy didn’t fall under either category immediately. He assessed Mac for a second, eyes taking him in, but not in the usual cut-of-meat way. (He minded being a cut of meat less lately. Maybe because he was getting used to it. Or because he had Jem, and Coach, and Lupe, and Travis around to remind him he was a real person. And what the hell did it mean that he suddenly had that? It was a trap, and he had to resist it, damn everything. Except even now he wanted to catch another glimpse of Jem over this Charles dude’s shoulder.)
“So, you’re still in training, huh?”
Mac nodded. “Yep. This is my last day. Can I help you with something, or do you want me to find you someone who’s not in training?” The thing about The Gym was that there were a lot of clients. And all of them knew the place better than Mac did. Still, it seemed like people liked having a choice, and offering to find staff for them was almost always the right thing to do, even if they could find staff themselves.
Charles bit on his lower lip. “I, uh, usually go in the private rooms. But I’m trying to be a little less…something. So I kind of picked you so I couldn’t do that.”
Right, okay. Dude was nervous. As much as Mac wanted to know exactly what the fuck they were not-talking about right now, he smiled. He knew from nervous. “Cool. What should we do?”
“Wow. This is really hard.” Charles glanced around. “Do you know Coach?”
“Yeah.”
“He, uh, challenged me to do this on the floor.” The guy’s face and neck flushed dark. “Oh god. I’m freaking out right now.”
Mac reached for his arm. The guy didn’t pull away, so he squeezed a little. “It’s cool. If Coach dared you to do it, you kind of have to, right?”
Charles laughed. “I don’t know how he makes me feel like that, but he totally does.”
Yeah, me too. Mac raised an eyebrow, stealing the move from Jem’s playbook. “Do we need equipment? Mats? Mirrors?”
“Oh god. I am so embarrassed right now.” Charles swallowed, and now he was actually sweating, at his temples. “Um. I, um. I getoffonfuckingnavels. So mats. Hopefully without a lot of people around. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
The guy was older than Mac, maybe by a decade, but right now his stance was young and wary. Mac tried to pick his words apart, but something about the dude made him shift his hand up to squeeze Charles’s shoulder. “I, uh, didn’t catch that. Sorry.” He put a little pressure on and started steering them toward the mats. They were in the lull between the higher traffic early hours and the morning pre-closing rush. He wondered if Charles had watched for low points and scheduled his gym time tonight deliberately.
“I might melt from blushing,” the guy whispered as they walked. “Oh my god. There’s no way I can do this.”
“If you’ve done it with Coach, you can probably do it with me. Even on the floor.”
Charles looked up, eyes catching Mac’s. “I guess you have to do everything on the floor, huh? Even if you don’t want to.”
Mac froze, losing all of his staff persona for a long moment. For an entire beat he was just himself, no persona, nothing to hide behind, thinking about guys fucking his ass, thinking about gagging around cock, thinking about—ohfuck—that goddamn toe thing.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. The thing I want…at least I hope it’s not gonna be really awful for you. You can ask me to stop if it is.”
“My job, you know,” he managed to say. “So. Mats. What now?”
Charles took a deep breath, keeping his gaze on the floor. When he spoke, his voice was very low. “I want to fuck your navel. Your, uh, belly button. Oh Jesus.” He mopped his forehead. “This isn’t even hot anymore, I’m so nervous.”
Except he was still popping a tent in his pants. Mac stepped a little closer, until Charles looked up. “It’s really not hot?”
Yeah. He had him. He’d hooked his nervous client. The guy was red as hell, sweating, and scared, but his eyes were locked on Mac’s for real now, and he’d forgotten they were on the floor.
“It’s still hot.”
“Tell me what to do.”
The guy didn’t say anything for a full breath. Then he moved, shifted his weight.
Mac kept himself very still, trying not to let on that he had to fight himself not to go into aggro stance.
But Charles reached out slowly, and when he took hold of Mac’s shirt, Mac let him pull it off. He’d positioned them so Charles’s back was to the room, which meant he was facing it.
Shirtless on the floor. No big deal. A whole lot of people were shirtless right now. No one cared.
Charles sucked in a breath, and the knuckles of the hand clutching Mac’s shirt were white. “Oh god. You are so fuckable. Jesus.” Slowly, again, slowly as if he wanted to drag out the anticipation, Charles skimmed a hand up one side of Mac’s stomach. Mac wasn’t super hairy but he felt the progress of Charles’s palm across every hair he had. “God, you are so…”
The guy groaned. A sex groan. He dragged his knuckles up over Mac’s sternum, then down again, hesitating just over his belly button.
This was weird. Not as weird as the toe thing. But this dude was totally and completely turned on by looking at Mac’s…abs? Uh. Weird.
Then Charles traced the ridge of his belly button and Mac’s breath caught in his throat.
“Look at this hole. I want to fuck you so bad right now.”
Since it was his job to get fucked, Mac could have said any number of things in reply to that. Except he couldn’t. Because now both of them were looking down at where Charles’s finger rounded again and again, just firm enough so it wasn’t ticklish, gently enough so it didn’t feel like taking.
It was mesmerizing. And it felt good somehow. Surely other people had touched him here, even accidentally. But never in his entire life had Mac been so fucking aware of his belly button as he was right now.
“Oh, god, please…” Charles dropped his shirt and planted that hand on Mac’s side, holding him in place, also somehow, inescapably, holding his belly button almost…open. Without really doing that. But with Charles holding him there, he felt a whole lot more exposed. “So hot.” The finger dipped inside for a second and both of them gasped.
It was a little uncomfortable, but in an intriguing, sex-related way. Like being with Coach sometimes, when he tested things, trying to see what they made Mac feel.
“Lie down. Will you lie down? Please. Oh god, you are, like, so fucking hot.”
Translation: your belly button makes me want to fuck. But what the hell. Clients were clients, and this was Mac’s job.
And also, that little bit of curiosity was winning. He wanted to see what the hell happened now.
Awkward to lie back on the mats while Charles was standing, but Charles stripped down to a jock strap and knelt beside him quickly. He leaned down to lick right up to the edge of Mac’s belly button, making Mac squirm.
“Are you ticklish?” His eyes gleamed a little wickedly as he looked down.
“Fuck. I don’t think so. But that’s—” Mac broke off.
“Just wait until I’m fucking you. Will you put your hands over your head?” He swallowed hard, but didn’t drop his eyes. “Please? It’s the, uh, visual of it. Like you’re into it with me.”
Mac did it without thinking, then impulsively squeezed Charles’s neck before replacing his hands above his head. “I’m into it.”
It would have been the right thing to say to any client. It happened to be true with this one.
Charles groaned again. “Is it okay if I—if I straddle you? I know some people don’t like being pinned down. I don’t have to.”
But however this was gonna go, Mac figured the mechanics would be better like that. Plus Charles was a skinny dude who didn’t seem to have any actual anger in him, so if Mac wanted him off, he could make that happen.
“Go ahead.”
Breathe, breathe, breathe, dammit, don’t stop breathing. Face to face was hard. Face to face pinned down was harder still. Sometimes even with Jem. Or Coach.
But Charles wasn’t looking at his eyes, like they would have been. His entire focus was on Mac’s navel. Navel was a weird word. This was a weird experience. But hot. At least getting there.
Charles straddled his legs carefully, not sitting down, skimming both hands over his stomach now, and bending down to lick into his belly button, one warm swipe of his tongue.
Oh damn. Mac shuddered.
“It’s okay. I know it feels strange the first time.”
Was this a kink? A fetish? Mac wanted to ask Coach later, but right now he was too busy watching Charles seduce his body. He was hard already. He’d worried that being expected to perform all the time would make things more difficult, but instead his dick seemed to think that everything was an open invitation to be turned on these days; good for work, occasionally tricky at home, even after they decided it was okay to kiss.
God, would Jem do this? No. He could never ask. Except he wouldn’t have to. If he told this story to any of them, they’d see it was different this time.
Charles’s tongue pointed, tracing circles around his belly button and Mac wished someone had his hands so he could pull against them. This would be easier if he had someone to hold onto.
They were going to the house later. His friends. Coach could hold him down…
It took everything in his power not to buck up against Charles, but some tension in his body must have betrayed him, because Charles looked up and since Mac was still craning his neck to see what was happening, their eyes met. Again.
Jesus. It was like the guy was blowing him, but he wasn’t. He was tongue-fucking Mac’s goddamn belly button. And it was hot as hell.
Charles did something sexy with his tongue, flicking it quickly against Mac, and Mac let his head fall back, shuddering. Jesus, how the fuck could that feel so good? How the hell could that feel like sex, when it was his goddamn belly button?
“Yeah, baby. Come on. Gonna fuck you so good. You like it, right? It feels good, doesn’t it?”
Mac’s eyes were closed. He nodded, but Charles did something else, with…fingers? Lips? As well as tongue? So Mac curled his arms under his head to prop himself up, hoping that would be close enough to not wreck Charles’s artistic vision, or whatever.
And goddamn. Watching Charles nibble on his fucking stomach wasn’t to be missed. Then the man straightened, shifted forward, and oh shit, was he fucking serious? When he said fuck, he meant…
Guy brought his own lube. Quite the gentleman. And Jesus, there he was, lubing up his dick, looking at Mac from hooded eyes, getting ready to literally fuck his navel, like that was a thing.
Apparently, that was a thing.
Mac sucked in air loudly enough to make an actual sound when Charles’s dick touched his skin.
“Easy, boy.” Even his voice was deeper, way less nervous. “Easy, I got you.” One hand smoothed over his skin, coming to rest on his chest. Charles leaned, experimentally, and used his other hand to push his dick around on Mac’s stomach.
Fuck, his dick was hot and hard. The head of it was flushed darker than his cheeks, and Mac couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. You didn’t usually get to watch a dick like this, and right now he was watching it fuck him, which was a whole different level of hot.
And it felt good. Soft and hard all at once, slippery with the lube, but Charles was using his hand to force his dick into Mac.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Charles chanted. “Gonna fuck you now. Yeah? You want it?”
We’re not doing that already? “I want it, yeah, come on.” Because he did. It was work, it was the right thing to say, but Mac sure as hell wanted to know what the guy meant when he said gonna fuck you now.
And oh damn, oh fucking crap, that was Charles fucking his dick into Mac’s belly button and he couldn’t stop himself from jolting with it, arching into it, wanting more. Yeah, more, like he wished his belly button was deeper so he could take fucking more, though Jesus, it was good, Charles’s dick slipping around, in and out, playing with the edges, leaking precome, which he smeared into Mac’s belly button, panting the whole time.
“Get hard for me. Come on, boy, get hard.”
At first he was confused—since his dick was playing no fucking part in this, and didn’t hesitate to remind him of that—but no, of course, Charles meant his abs, right, that totally made more sense. Mac went as tight as he could, Trav’s voice echoing in his head ordering him to tighten his core.
And whoa shit, that woke up a whole new layer of nerve endings or something, because now he could feel every millimeter of slide, and his belly button was lit up like a damn Christmas tree.
Mac sucked in a breath, his hands gripping his wrists, pushing his head up higher so he could watch Charles’s dick fuck the firm plane of his abs. Charles, still leaning his weight on Mac’s chest like a fucking restraint, changed position so he could better fuck Mac, and now his hand sped up, both fucking and jacking himself. He was making noises, little sounds of pleasure and desperation, and Mac had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, Fuck yeah, do it, fuck me, come, come all over me. He’d never wanted to say that shit to anyone. He forced himself not to think it with Jem and Coach. But if this went on much longer he was gonna be talking a whole bunch of embarrassing shit to this guy he hardly knew.
“So hot,” Charles panted. “Fuck yeah, yeah, so hot, so good, oh god—” He came with a long groan, pressing his dick into Mac’s belly button, and the arm braced against Mac was shaking.
Christ. Come was kind of gross when it was mashed around on your skin with lube. But even as he was thinking it, he wondered if he’d feel the same if this was Jem. Probably not. Mac didn’t want to follow that thread to wherever it was going, so he didn’t.
“I made a mess, sorry.”
Damn, the client wasn’t supposed to apologize. “It’s cool.” Should he have thought ahead and brought a towel? He hadn’t actually known what was gonna go down, though. Plus, usually the clients were quicker than he was to find stuff, because they were used to the whole “having sex on the floor” thing.
Mac used his shirt on his stomach and chest, then sat up and located the nearest cabinet. “I’ll be right back.”
Right, damp cloths for each of them. Charles, blushing red again, accepted his with a slightly sick expression.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should have—”
“It’s seriously okay.” When Charles didn’t seem inclined to calm down, Mac smiled at him. “Dude. For real, it’s fine. How do people usually do it? I’m in training, you know, so I’m not super smooth with this stuff.”
“Oh, there’s not…I mean, I’ve only ever, um, you know, with Coach. In a room. And I guess I never paid attention to what he did…after.”
Whoa. “Oh. Okay. Well, next time we’ll know what to do better.” Shit. Mac was this guy’s first staff member. Except for Coach, who didn’t count.
“So, uh…you’d do that again?” The guy’s face was getting seriously alarming.
“Yeah, that was—” Mac floundered. “That was hot.”
“Are you just saying that? Or did you actually…” Charles swallowed. “Anyway, uh, thanks. I should go.”
Then the dude was gone. Like, scrambled his ass out of there and down the hall to the locker rooms so fast Mac was still sort of blinking after him when Lupe walked up.
“You good, hermanito?”
“I think so? I mean yeah, actually, totally good.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You thinking of putting your clothes back on?”
“Nope. Shower first. This shirt is wasted.”
“My, my.” A smile teased up the corners of her lips. “You didn’t text me back earlier. I took Jem’s reply as speaking for you both.”
Don’t blush, don’t blush. “Shut up.”
She ruffled his hair. “Go shower.”
He went to shower. He’d never washed his belly button with so much attention in his life, but seriously, maybe he should start. Because however weird Charles might be (and there was something weird about the guy, beyond the navel thing), that was fucking hot.
* * *
They didn’t wait for the gym to clear out, since Lupe said Coach already knew they were going to the house. Just smoked, showered, and drove over, meeting Lupe in front. This time she found the key and let them in without waiting, walking straight to the back. She studied a panel of switches and dimmers, then started playing with them.
And whoa. Fucking rich people. There were lights in the pool, controlled by a dial Lupe twisted until they glowed, not too brightly, little patches of brighter blue with soft yellow centers.
“He’ll ruin this when he gets home because safety first. And anyway, it’ll be dawn by then. But we can enjoy looking at it now.” She pointed at Jem. “You’re helping me with food. And you, Mac, are setting the table. Then you can relax, since this is a celebratory breakfast in your honor.”
“A what?”
She kissed his cheek. “You completed your training. Congratulations, staff. Oh, and by the way—” Her eyes took in both of them, sweeping up and down their bodies. “You’re doing a good job hiding it in The Gym, but you may as well drop the act here, hm?”
Lupe walked off with an air of having dropped a live grenade, only a really fucking amusing one.
“Oh shit,” Mac mumbled, turning. “Were we obvious?”
“Lupe just said we weren’t. Hey.” Jem did this thing that Mac loved, but like couldn’t ever admit how much he loved. Not kissing (though he loved that, too), but pressing their cheeks together, so when Jem spoke again it was right into Mac’s ear. This move usually—yep, there it was—included Jem’s hands on his sides. “Congratulations on surviving training.”
“Thanks.” Was he supposed to do the same thing with his hands? Was that like cheating? Copying? A sign he had no idea what the fuck he was doing?
Jem giggled, warm breath disturbing Mac’s hair. “Come on. Let’s go help Lupe.”
But not yet. Mac darted a kiss at Jem’s cheek. “Kay.”
Another giggle. Jem grabbed his hand and towed him toward the kitchen.
* * *
Coach got there right as they were putting food on the table. “I could get used to this, Sister.” He kissed Lupe lightly, ruffled Mac’s hair, let his hand rest at the back of Jem’s neck.
And Jem practically purred with the contact, which was both hot and weirdly almost domestic. For a second Mac sank into the moment like this was how they lived, like the four of them shared this crazy big house, with the scary fucking pool in the back yard, and all the rooms it looked like Coach didn’t even use.
Jesus. Get your head out of…whatever the fuck that just was.
Plus, the pool was sobering. Not like he had a lot of dignity left to lose, but god, if they thought he was pathetic before, they’d really think he was pathetic now.
But first, they ate the feast Jem and Lupe had made. Potatoes, eggs, sausage, toast, orange juice. It was a breakfast out of a movie or something, and Mac went back for seconds of pretty much everything (after waiting for Coach to do it first).
There. Now they were so full there was no way they could go in the pool. He was pretty sure there was a rule about that. He’d never gone swimming as a kid, obviously, and he couldn’t imagine his mom, like the moms in the movies, enforcing a rule about not swimming after he ate. Mom had never enforced anything.
God. Why the hell was he thinking about Mom? He shook his head, attracting Coach’s attention. Dammit.
Instead of speaking, though, Coach reached out and squeezed his shoulder, which reminded him a little of Charles earlier. It was the thing you did to someone who looked like they were about to lose it.
How did Mac know to do that? And why did it feel comforting when Coach did it, even though it meant he was way-too-obviously fucked in the head?
“You remember your first day?” Coach asked, keeping his voice below the level of the fight Jem and Lupe were having over some reality show Mac had never heard of.
“Jeez, Coach.” He blushed, looking at his food.
Coach’s hand squeezed again. “You didn’t find me charming. Thank god you got over that.”
“Shut up, Coach.”
Coach laughed. “You and Jem seem good.”
“Yeah.” But that wasn’t really good enough. He glanced up, meeting Coach’s eyes. “He deserves better than me.”
“The right thing for me to say is that he’s a big boy, and he deserves whatever he chooses.”
“I can hear you talking about me,” Jem said loudly, without turning toward them.
“But the real answer is he deserves better than me, too. So I try very hard to live up to what he deserves.” Coach shrugged. “It’s the best we can do.”
Jem sighed. Also loudly. “You’re both cracked. Can we swim now?”
Dammit. Mac didn’t quite catch his expression before Coach saw it, but ignored the look he got in response. “I gotta go out to the car for, uh, my suit.”
“I can’t wait to see this,” Lupe said. “Mm.”
Jem stood and started gathering dishes. “Don’t get your hopes up. Next time you’re taking him shopping.”
“Oh, honey. I’ll take your boy shopping any day.”
Your boy. Mac froze.
Lupe laughed and rounded the table to mess with his hair. “Yes or no, hermanito?”
“Mac’s not my boy, stop being a jerk. Don’t listen to Lupe.” But Jem was flushed a little, like maybe he was protesting too much.
Jeez. Another tug at his hair and he looked up at Lupe. “I don’t know yet.”
“Fair enough. Go get your suit.”
“Yeah, okay.” He snuck a glance at Jem, worried his I don’t know might have been a bad thing to say. But Jem just grinned at him. Which made him blush. “I’m going to the car.”
“Hurry back!” Lupe called.
He didn’t hurry back. He tried not to go too slowly, but he definitely didn’t hurry back, and the only person still inside when he dragged ass back to the house was Coach, leaning against a wall in the entryway.
Mac blinked. “Um. Am I in trouble?”
“You made the pool a class thing last time you were here. But the rest of the house doesn’t offend you. So what’s really going on?”
Shit. “I can’t swim.”
“Okay. Then I suggest you stay in the shallow end.” Coach straightened up and hooked him in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You didn’t tell them?”
“It’s pretty stupid. What kind of adult doesn’t know how to swim?”
“A lot of them. Including the one I’m currently hugging. I will respectfully suggest you tell them instead of making them discover it.”
Mac sighed, and leaned a little more into Coach. “I know. I should have told Jem this morning.”
“It’s done now. But if you ever want to learn, I have access to a couple of pools, and I’ve heard tell that I’m decent at coaching.”
God, Coach watching him flop around in the water, gasping and spitting? Probably not so much.
“Or Trav. I bet Trav would be happy to teach you.”
Mac shoved an elbow into Coach’s side and extricated himself. “Oh my god. No.”
Coach laughed. “Get changed. Come hang out in the water. You don’t have to move from the side. Plus, wait till you see Jem. He’s practically an otter.”
“You’ve seen Jem swim?”
“Only once, at a client’s request. And it was spectacular. Go.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He changed in one of the downstairs bathrooms (like, the place had more than one downstairs bathroom), then followed their laughter outside, pulling his coat over his shoulders.
And immediately averted his eyes. “Holy shit, Lupe.”
Her laughter bounced off the walls of the house. “Like what you see, sugar?”
What he saw was Lupe, all legs and torso, brown skin stretched under a shimmering golden one-piece bathing suit cut low in front and high over her hips. Also, it sure didn’t seem like it was leaving much to the imagination, but if that was the case…
“Lupe? Like, where’s your dick?” It was probably the wrong thing to say, but she laughed again.
“Honey, I tuck for special occasions, like seeing that look on your face.” She struck a pose and he sucked in a breath, looking away again. “I enjoy making boys blush.”
He couldn’t help looking back again, because she was just so…god. Like beautiful and sexy and also Lupe.
“It’s the tits I can’t figure out,” Jem called from the water.
“That’s why I’m glad we’re doing this in low light. It takes a nylon body suit to pull this off, but you three are worth the effort.”
Mac wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but now that he was looking, he could see a tell-tale line of meshy fabric running across the top of the steep V. He remembered watching Olympic skating once, and how Joseph had made fun of the costumes. And the skaters. In the confusion of childhood, Mac had been almost grateful for the excuse to watch more closely. It was okay to watch figure skating, as long as you were making fun of it.
He shook his head. Goddammit. Why the fuck was he thinking about all this shit? Mom, Joseph, fuck.
Lupe stepped up to him, slipping one hand under his coat, pressing it over his heart tattoo. Her proximity was distracting, and her touch comforting. He couldn’t make that make sense, but he sure as hell didn’t pull away.
“Who’re you hiding from?” she murmured, squeezing.
“My stupid head.”
“Oh, good luck with that, honey.” She slid in against his body, making him flush hot all over. “Teasing you is delicious, Mac.”
“Oh my god, Lupe.”
“Oi!” Jem called. “Get your hands off my boyfriend!”
Jesus Christ. There was nowhere safe to look.
Lupe laughed and kissed him lightly before backing away. “But he’s so cute when he’s awkwardly turned on! Come in the pool, hermanito.”
He sighed. “I can’t swim.”
“You won’t catch me swimming. You and I can lounge with dignity while those two make fools of themselves.”
Like it was nothing. He swallowed, not quite daring to look at Jem. “Yeah?”
“You know I’m not about to get wet. I put work into this outfit.” She brushed down her sides, drawing his attention to her…everything.
He bit back a groan and turned to the pool. Where Jem was grinning up at him. Mac frowned. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything! I totally did not say anything. Not even Ha ha ha ha, you totally want to have sex with Lupe right now. Even though it’s so true.”
“Oh my god, everyone shut up.”
“You know what will make me shut up?” Lupe tugged lightly on his shorts as she passed him. “Buying you a new suit. Baggy black is not what you’re meant to wear.” She snagged a cushion off one of Coach’s chairs and settled it at the edge of the pool by the stairs.
Lounging, yeah. Lupe lounged with her feet in the water—bare feet. Gold nail polish. He’d never seen her in bare feet before. He followed sluggishly, not so sure he could act casual right now with all this shit in his head. Not so sure he wanted to touch the water, though it was freezing out and the water steamed in a way that made it look inviting as hell.
“Aren’t you cold?”
She shrugged. “Beauty has its demands. No one said it was gonna be comfortable.”
He sat down beside her, tentatively dipping his toes into the water. “Oh my god, it’s so warm.”
“I had Coach turn up the temp this morning.”
Against his better judgement, he tried the second step down, sitting on the edge. It was a little like getting into a bath as a kid, not too warm, but definitely warmer than skin.
The jacket was plucked off his back. “You’ll get it wet,” Coach said, slipping in past him. “Ugh. Woman, you know I like it cold.”
“I know you like making me happy.”
He grunted and slid beneath the surface of the water, as if it was nothing, as if he didn’t have to plan his breath.
Mac bit his lip and watched the rippling color of Coach’s body until it surfaced halfway down the length of the pool. He noticed the lights had all been turned to full brightness. Safety first.
“Hey, boy,” Coach said to Jem. “Race you to the other side.”
“Oh, it’s on, old man.”
It was weird that it didn’t feel like showing off, now that they knew. But this was just Coach and Jem playing, trying to outdo each other, and Coach always looked good to Mac, but watching Jem in the water made him wish he could join in. Jem moved as gracefully as he usually did, but there was some edge of control he had when he was out of the pool that he didn’t seem to need when he was in it.
And god, he was hot, in trunks with some sort of electric blue swirl against darker blue. His skin was pale, making him shine every time he passed a light.
Lupe sighed. “This was a great idea. You can tell me I’m a genius, Mac. It’s only the truth.”
He rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Lupe.”
“You wish that’s what you wanted.” A nudge from her perfectly manicured golden toes. Or was it something else, when it was toes? He couldn’t remember. “And how was baby’s last day of training?”
“Call me ‘baby’ one more time and I’m pushing you in.”
She laughed.
“It was good. And weird.” He made sure his face wasn’t doing anything too obvious before asking, “Have you ever fucked someone’s navel?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Hm. Not lately. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, nothing. Just, a guy did it today. I never even knew that was a thing.” He was doing a pretty good job not looking like he cared about navel-fucking, but then Lupe’s toe, at the end of Lupe’s extended leg—and god, Lupe’s leg—traced a line up his belly and he twisted away.
“My oh my. I like it when your face freezes because you’re worried I’ll see something. Makes me all hungry with curiosity.” His foot pressed firmly against his stomach this time and if Lupe wanted him to suck her toes, he would. Lupe’s toes, with their gold polish, big, like everything else about her: her height, her voice, her insight.
She laughed, and Mac let the pressure of her foot drive him back onto his elbows, legs still dangling in the water. He looked up at her, with his eyes, trying to see what she was thinking.
Then her big toe returned to his belly button and he couldn’t hide the breath he sucked in.
“Baby. You liked it.”
Not a question.
He swallowed. “The guy was a little weird. But I kind of…yeah.”
“Who’s weird?” Jem called over his shoulder. He’d been catching his breath on the shallow side, waiting for Coach to attack.
“This client. Not weird-weird. Just kind of a weird feel to him.” Great, now Coach was gonna yell at him about talking shit, when he wasn’t, like at all. He had no idea what was really up with Charles, but he didn’t want to talk shit about the guy. Just wanted to figure him out.
Sure enough, Coach snagged Jem around the chest and dragged him, giggling, to the stairs.
“Who’s the client?”
Mac pushed away Lupe’s questing toes (she laughed again) and focused. “Charles? He said he’s only worked with you in the private rooms before, but you dared him to be on the floor.”
Coach’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Is that what he heard? That’s interesting.”
“I’m not talking shit, Coach. I liked the guy, even. I just couldn’t quite get a handle on what he wanted.”
“The only thing I’ll say is that sometimes our clients form…ideas about us. Some of the clients can work with the same staff again and again and never miss where those boundaries are.”
“Like Edward?”
Lupe made a show of stretching her legs and leaning back. “Edward would never place a hair outside where I wanted it.”
“That’s right,” Coach agreed. “Not all of our clients are as aware of those lines.”
“And Charles is one of those?”
“In my experience he was. That doesn’t mean he will be for you.”
Jem patted Coach’s thigh. “Black hole of need?”
“Maybe not quite that bad. He understood I was setting boundaries, at least.”
“By telling him to be on the floor, not in the private rooms?”
Coach shrugged, sending ripples out from his body. “What I told Charles was that I wouldn’t always be available, so it would be good for him to branch out some, work with different staff. I also mentioned to him that I thought he might benefit from working on the floor.”
“He said you told him he had to.”
Coach raised his eyebrows. “Does that sound like me?”
“Kinda.”
Jem grinned. “Anyway, not to distract from talking about clients, but can we loop back around to more important things?”
“Mm hmm.” Lupe’s toes went traveling, but Mac evaded. “How do you want us, sugar? How can we serve you this morning?”
“Aw, c’mon, Lupe. Lay off.” Which was definitely the right thing to say, even though ultimately Mac wanted Lupe to push.
She climbed over his lap, which couldn’t have been comfortable, really, being on her knees on the cement. When she tilted his face up, he couldn’t help but look at her. “Let us show you what it is when it’s for you, not a client.”
“You don’t have to.” Mac knew he was blushing, and even if it was hard on her knees, he was glad he couldn’t see Jem and Coach. “It was weird. Until it wasn’t.”
Lupe let one of her hands trail down his chest, and god, she was so fucking beautiful, he arched into her and she rewarded him by letting her nails dig in just a little. “We don’t have to. We want to. Is that what you want, Mac? Because we only want to do this if it sounds good to you.”
He could have said no, but curiosity, and arousal, got the better of him. “I thought about it. When he was on top of me. I thought about maybe seeing if you guys…” Lupe’s nails made it to his belly and he gasped.
“How did you imagine it when it was us?”
“I, uh, wanted someone to hold me down. So I could—so I had something—someone to hold on to—”
“Yeah, I know. That’s Coach, right?”
He flushed, a new wave of heat over his skin, at how well she read him. “Yeah.”
“Good boy. And I want Jem right here on top of you. I want him here so you can see him, so he can see how hot it makes you having him here.”
Mac bit down on his tongue. His voice, when he spoke, was raspy, as if he needed a drink of water. “Yeah.”
“That’s good. I like that picture.”
“What about you, Lupe?”
“Honey, I’m gonna enjoy seeing you get off no matter where I am.” She leaned down, teased him into a kiss. “Your pleasure pleases me.”
“Aw, jeez…”
“Boys?” It took a minute before Mac realized she was talking to Jem and Coach.
“At your service,” Coach said. “Shall we go inside?”
Jem groaned. “Awww, but the pool! Shit, I mean, obviously I want to have sex with Mac, like, all the time, I’m just saying, you know…the pool.”
“Oh, you get your swim on.” Lupe’s eyes never left Mac’s. “I’ll ramp your boy up for a few minutes.”
“I could go inside—”
“Nah. Come on, Jem. I told Mac all about your otter skills. Show off with me.”
Lupe shifted until she was behind him, curling her legs over his and pulling them apart, running her hands down his sides. “Mmm, you’re kind of at my mercy, you know. You aren’t allowed to come. I want you nice and hard for what’s next.”
“Lupe…” He tried to hold himself up (could he lean back against her if she’d taped her dick?), but she tugged him in.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly comfortable, but I like feeling you struggle for control. Eyes on your boy.”
So he watched Jem and Coach, and Coach had been right: Jem swam like he was born to do it, like he didn’t have to think, like he had no fear of the water. He cut under to swipe Coach’s legs, and slid away faster than Coach could catch him.
“It’s better between them than it has been.” Lupe’s voice was low in his ear. “That’s because of you, and Jem, and whatever it is you’re doing at home. It’s easing something in him, meeting some need he couldn’t get otherwise.”
“You’re full of shit.”
She pinched his side. “I don’t care enough to lie.”
Like all the things Lupe said that felt like bravado, it was probably salted with the truth.
“You ever seen Coach fuck him? I mean coming in hard and fast and bending him in two?”
Mac, mouth dry, shook his head.
“We did a scene for a couple once, and the gentleman preferred my particular skills, but the wife wanted to see something fetishy—her word. She wanted to see a big, strong man fuck a smaller, more lithe man. She was bashful about it, to the point that the husband practically had to stick his hand in her pants to get her to admit it.”
The entire idea of it, of some couple getting off together on different things, of a woman being so hot for a scene, even though it bothered her that she was hot for it, that she asked for a performance—all of it turned Mac on.
Lupe hummed in his ear as Coach managed to grab Jem and toss him into the air. “They don’t usually play that way, at least not that they’ve shown me. Jem’s toppy even when he’s bottoming, and Coach likes that. But that one time? I think both of them liked it all right going the other way, too.” Her hand slid down lower. “Would you like that? They’d show you.”
“Shut up, Lupe.”
She laughed, but didn’t keep pushing it. Her fingers tugged his shorts until they pulled against his dick and he leaned his head back against her shoulder. “Yeah, I think it’s just about time we show you a good time.”
“I don’t—not like last week. I don’t want it to just be me this time, Lupe. You know?”
“Oh, it’s not. Wasn’t then, either. It ain’t about whose cannon fires, hermanito.”
“Yeah, well, this time I don’t want to be the only one, okay?”
Her hands smoothed back up his torso. “It’d be cruel to your boy to not let him come after riling him up, anyway. Sometimes I like to be cruel.”
Mac didn’t quite have it in him to turn his face toward hers, not even with his eyes closed. Instead he reached his hands out until they touched her knees. Lupe froze, but he didn’t do anything else, just rested his hands on her skin. “Not tonight. Please.”
“All right, then.”
She whistled, right in front of his ear, and he winced. “Damn, Lupe.”
“You two! Inside! Let’s get this party started!”
A splash. Mac opened his eyes soon enough to see Jem dive under the water one last time, evading Coach’s grab, then somehow pull Coach off balance from below.
Coach went down with a roar, and Lupe laughed in his ear, a much more welcome sound than her whistle.
“So playful. It’s good for both of them. It’d be good for you, too, if you let them see you play.”
“Only me? Not you?”
“I think the play was beaten out of me a long time ago.” She didn’t sound sad about it, just stating facts. “Come inside. I have a few ideas.”
“You don’t think we should wait for them?”
She hummed. “Nope. I want you naked and staked out when they come inside.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“Come on.”
So Mac got up, and followed Lupe, and when he glanced back to see Coach and Jem kissing in water up to their shoulders, he grinned. Yeah. That was pretty awesome.
* * *
Lupe brought him into Coach’s home gym and pulled his shorts off perfunctorily, doing her usual evaluative nod at his body.
“Lie here. He’s got two layers of thick mats here, to reproduce his office mats, so it’ll be similar to what’s on the floor.”
“It doesn’t have to be—I mean—The Gym wasn’t the part that turned me on.”
“But The Gym turns Coach on. And me, to a different degree. Imagining them taking you on the floor definitely turns me on.” She snapped. “Down. Where do you want your hands pinned?”
“Pinned?” he echoed, sitting his bare ass on the mat and pulling up his knees.
Their voices—Coach’s and Jem’s—moved ever closer. He looked up at Lupe, who was looking down at him.
She made a gesture with her hand. Then she knelt, beside him, and pushed his chest.
“I’m not sure…”
“I know. Trust me. And watch their faces.”
He allowed her to push him back, gripped at her fingers when she pressed his hands into the mat. And lowered his legs, stretched out just like he was with the client, only now with Lupe’s weight, Lupe’s presence nearby. Still felt vulnerable as hell, but the second Jem rounded the corner he stopped dead in his tracks, and Coach ran into him.
Both of them were riveted, looking at Mac.
Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck. And maybe his face was burning off, but Lupe was right: their expressions were worth every bit of humiliation, exposure, and lust.
“Oh fuck,” Jem whispered. “We, uh, ravishing Mac? Because yes. All the yes.”
“In a way he’s ravishing us. Coach, I want you here.” But Lupe didn’t move until Coach was there, ready to take her spot, and Mac was so fucking grateful that he kissed her hand before he let her go.
“Sweet boy,” Coach said. “C’mere. Let me have you.” He leaned forward to place a kiss on Mac’s forehead, then secured both of Mac’s wrists in one hand. “Like this?”
Mac lifted his head, then dropped it. “I want to be able to see a little. Earlier I sort of pillowed my head on my hands, but it wasn’t great, and I, uh, kind of imagined it…like this more.”
“Hmm.” Lupe rummaged through a cabinet, then came back with a folded towel. “Try this.”
It helped. It was perfect, actually. It allowed him to see all the way down his body, all the way to where Jem was still standing close to the doorway. Looking right at him.
“Hey,” Mac said. “So, uh, I had this client earlier.”
“Who laid you out on the floor and I didn’t notice?”
Mac licked his lips. Jem’s eyes flashed down to track the movement.
“You were in a private room.” Lupe steered him closer, lining herself up behind him. “Show us how you love your boy. He has a fantasy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He wants you to fuck his navel.” As she spoke, her hand slid under Jem’s shirt, pushing it up, baring his skin.
Mac caught his breath.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You got feelings about that idea?”
“Sounds pretty good.”
“He wants Coach to hold him down while you fuck him.”
Mac swallowed, unable to hide from the starkness of it, and Coach squeezed, a gentle pressure against his wrists.
And god, something about Jem’s gaze, hungry, needy, deep in desire, stirred everything in Mac’s body. He arched up, even though he couldn’t get his hands lose, and Jem knelt to meet him.
“Oh god, you’re so fucking hot. Mac, god, you are so fucking—” The words were lost in kisses, in their lips, in their tongues, and Mac closed his eyes against how intense it was to be held down while Jem’s hands framed his face, while his lips took whatever he needed from Mac’s.
His throat was dry and his lips tingling by the time Jem sat back. And Jem’s face was flushed. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey.”
“Good boys. Now take off your clothes.”
Jem rolled his eyes. “She’s so bossy.”
“I know. But did you see that suit?”
Coach laughed.
“The suit is pretty fucking hot,” Jem agreed. He leaned in for one more kiss. “Not as hot as you are, though.”
Lupe appeared and twisted his ear, making him screech. “You’re a good boyfriend. Take off your clothes.”
“But—” Jem clamped a hand over his ear. “Ow, Lupe! You did that as a reward?”
She grinned, the kind of grin that Mac shied away from instinctively. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”
So Jem took off his clothes.
Mac lost his nerve. “We don’t have to do this.”
“We are so doing this.” Jem’s knees came down on either side of his thighs. And where did the lube come from? It didn’t matter. Now the only thing Mac could look at was Jem’s dick, curving to the right, so familiar, and Mac didn’t quite tug on his hands, but his brain wanted to touch, his brain wanted to make Jem’s eyes roll back with just the right grip.
Mac sucked in a breath and raised his head.
“God, you’re so beautiful sometimes.” Jem’s fingers drifted along his jaw. “Is that word all right with you?”
“’M not beautiful.”
“You’re, like, a fucking statue.” Down his neck, over his chest. “Not like you’re carved out of stone, but like I could stare at you forever.”
The shudder took him hard and Mac would have curled in on himself, but he couldn’t.
“Shh.” Coach leaned over, kissing his forehead again, staying close. “It’s okay. He doesn’t need you to take it in.”
Sensation on his belly now and he sucked in a breath, staring into Coach’s eyes.
“I’m pretty excited about this,” Jem said. “Just in case anyone was wondering.”
“We weren’t.” But Coach was grinning, everything in his face open and true. “If not beautiful, maybe strong. That’s what I see when I look at you right now, Mac: so much strength. Bottomless strength.”
That was easier. He could deal with being strong.
The sound of the cap on the lube. Not gym-issue, but the brand Coach had in his office. Mac’s nostrils flared when he smelled it because it was sex in a bottle.
Coach kissed him again and sat back.
“I’ve never done this before.” Jem stroked his dick, running his other hand, slick with lube, up Mac’s belly. “Fuck, I’ve never even thought about this before, and now I can’t believe I lived this long deprived. Oh my god. How do I even—” He broke off. “Mac. Tell me what you want.”
Mac’s breaths were shorter, faster, and he could barely drag his gaze up from Jem’s dick to his eyes. But he had to. If he was gonna say this, he had to. “I thought you were gonna show me, and I was gonna let you?”
“Ohhhhh shit. Mac.” Jem bit down on his lip.
Coach’s hand tightened for a second. He probably remembered the line. Back when Mac had still been tripping on this whole thing, and how it didn’t make him want to hit anyone. This time he was ready, and willing, to beg.
It started out a little awkwardly. Jem was a little awkward, which was a contrast to how he’d been in the water. Still biting on his lip, a little slippery, a little uncertain.
And Mac was out of this world turned on by Jem when he was totally sure of himself. But this thing where he wasn’t, where he was attempting to do something just for Mac, even though he wasn’t comfortable, was a different thing.
His dick sliding across Mac’s skin made Mac breathe even faster, which both of them—all of them, probably—could see reflected on the very skin Jem was right now fucking. Or at least foreplaying.
“Shit, shit, shit, hot. I, uh, need a towel or something—my hand—”
“Here, sugar.”
“Thanks, Lupe. Uh.” Jem wiped off one hand and braced against the ground at Mac’s side. Then, as if noticing their proximity, he leaned down for a kiss, bringing his dick into contact again. “Ohhhhh shit. Hey.”
Staring at people’s lips was even weirder than staring at their other things. Mac raised his head to kiss more, harder, and Jem pumped his hips, dick skating over belly.
“Please, please,” Mac mumbled, words sloppy with kisses.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to fuck me.” He pressed his cheek to Jem’s, closing his eyes. “Inside. Inside it.”
Jem breathed hot and hard against him. “Say it.”
Dammit. Fucking toppy Jem. “My belly button—please—”
“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Jem shifted, but didn’t pull his face away. And oh god, yes, yes, Mac could feel it, that slip inside, the head of Jem’s dick at the edges of his belly button, that weird push that felt like penetration, but wasn’t, as if the nerves of his navel and the nerves of his ass shared a memory of what this was supposed to be, and his brain backed it up.
“Please, please, please…” Mac thrust up, throwing off Jem’s rhythm. He moaned, unable to get contact.
“Naughty boy.” Lupe sounded amused, which was so wrong, so bitchy of her. Then strong hands were on his thighs and ohfuck, Lupe was holding him down, and so was Coach, and Jem was fucking him into the mats. This—this—was being taken, and Mac needed it, needed to give everything over to them all at once.
Jem groaned into his mouth, tongue fucking deeper, and there was no mistaking his movements, the build-up, the wild thrusts of his dick, sliding in and around and against Mac’s belly button until Mac was pulling as hard as he could at Coach’s grip, bucking as hard as he could against Lupe’s hands. It was exactly perfectly right, being held down like this, not being able to do anything but writhe as Jem came, tongue still fucking Mac’s mouth, both of them moaning.
“Mac, Mac, Mac.” Jem kissed the skin he was talking into, which was Mac’s neck. “You’re so hot. It’s so hot when you want me.”
“Please touch me.” Mac strained up. “C’mon, please—”
Jem huffed laughter. “What if I made you wait? What if I told you you couldn’t come until we get home? Would you do that?”
Mac thrashed and Lupe, hands still tight like clamps, laughed at him.
“Just tell me you’d do it if I asked you to,” Jem whispered in his ear.
And shit, fuck, this wasn’t the deal, goddammit, he didn’t want to be the only one who came, but he didn’t want to not-come either.
“If I said it, if I begged, if I promised it’d be so fucking good when we got home, would you wait?”
Mac all but wept, turning his face toward Jem’s, burying his eyes. “Jesus, yeah, but I really want to—”
A hand on his dick, oh thank god, a hand on his dick, a vicious giggle in his ear, and thank god, Jem wasn’t making him wait.
Pinned down, covered in come, Jem’s fingers coaxing moans Mac never dreamed he was capable of, Jem’s voice saying, “Next time I go down on you I won’t even pay attention to your cock at all, it’ll be all about your cute little belly button, and I’ll lick it, and tongue-fuck it, and nibble on it, maybe I’ll bite it if you get out of line, I’ll fuck it with my fingers until you can feel me deep inside—”
And that was it. Mac’s entire body strained against his friends as he came, and came, and crap, he couldn’t stop fucking coming, and Jem’s hands wouldn’t stop moving, and he whimpered when it went too far, but didn’t quite have time to beg before Jem slid his palm down to cup Mac’s balls and stopped moving completely.
Mac didn’t like being touched after sex, but right now all of it felt like being held, and maybe this was what Coach always felt like after an orgasm. This need to be held, to be in contact.
Little tremors moved through him, but Jem stayed close and no one let go and eventually the roaring of blood in Mac’s ears quieted down.
They were talking. The three of them. Voices low.
“Can’t believe I never did that before.”
“The list of things you’ve never done, sugar, could fill this house.”
“I’ve done stuff!”
“Both of you, hush.”
“You kicking us out, Coach?”
“Not quite yet. Mac?”
Mac swam up from wherever he’d gone to let their voices wash over him. “Hmm?”
“Thanks for letting us serve you.”
He cracked bleary eyes open and looked up, not sure what to say.
Coach grinned and began chafing his wrists. “Any time you want me to hold you down, you let me know.”
On a normal day, he would have…something. Reacted. Resisted the idea. But the puddle of exhaustion and pleasure that was currently Mac’s brain couldn’t muster that kind of energy. “’Kay.”
All three of them laughed.
Jem cleaned him up, meticulously, sweetly even, and Lupe made more food, for which Mac was suddenly hungry. They stayed later than they had last time, into Saturday morning, and when they left for home Coach pulled him close with a fierceness that Mac recognized as affection before his body had a chance to see it as aggression.
“I’m so glad you walked into my gym, Mac.”
He didn’t think before replying, “Me too.”
* * *
If you dig The Gym (and the folks who work there), you might want to pick up the super free Handle With Care, an early Coach and Lupe story. It’s a little dark at times, but this is The Gym, so I’m sure you’re not surprised.