Training Mac's Back End
Mac didn’t bother going to Annabel’s after getting off at the discount store on Thursday. He snuck in the back door of The Gym when no one was looking and went directly upstairs. The lights weren’t on yet, so he figured Jem probably wasn’t working another double. He left everything off, grabbed a couple of towels to make a bed on the floor, and fell into a heap in the corner.
He had no idea how long it was before Coach found him.
“So.”
Mac blinked up at the dark silhouette, squinting in pain from the fluorescents. “Coach?”
“Security asked if I wanted them to check out the weirdo sitting in the dark.”
“Huh?”
Coach sighed. “You’re on video. All the time. Except in the toilet.” He held out his hand. “Get your ass up off the ground, Mac.”
Mac let himself be pulled up and scrubbed at his eyes. It was still hard to see because of how bright the lights were, but he was pretty sure the clock was telling him he’d only been there for twenty minutes. “Is that clock right?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Shit. He could crash in the car. Probably not in the lot here. Maybe he could find a spot in the sun so he wouldn’t freeze. “Sorry, Coach. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“And go where? If you had anywhere else, you’d be there. You homeless, Mac?”
Mac shook his head. “I stay with my friend Annabel, but she’s in class right now and her mom—” is creepy as fuck. “Her mom seems to think I’m always coming onto her or something, so you know. And anyway, I sleep on the couch, which isn’t great in the middle of the day.”
“Uh huh.”
“Really, it’s okay. I can take a nap in my car, Coach.”
“Yeah, no. Not so much. I wasn’t telling you to leave, jackass. Toss your wackadoo nest in the laundry and come up to the office. You can sleep there. And ask Jem about his house, he’s got a room available.”
“I thought he was renting it to someone’s brother.”
“Yeah, that fell through. The brother decided to enlist instead.”
“Oh.” He gathered up the towels and put them in the big bin in the laundry room, then followed Coach down the hall. Yeah, these couches were comfortable. Were they couches or sofas? Sofa was the better word, for sure, but Mac thought maybe there was a difference and he just didn’t know what it was.
“Four days now, Mac?” Coach asked, standing over him.
“Mm hm.”
“Get some sleep.”
A blanket over his shoulders, his body. Yeah. Weight. Warmth. Mac was out in minutes.
* * *
Voices.
“—couch-surfing, anyway.”
“You think we picked wrong?”
“No. It might take more hours to get there, but so did Jem, and look at him.”
“True. You could keep him as a pet, if you wanted. He’d like that.”
“He’d hate it. This is better.”
“Take your word for it, Eric. I’ll make coffee. You should wake him soon.”
“I know. I’m just giving him a few more minutes.”
“Okay.”
Shuffling, a door opening, closing, nothing. Mac drifted back to sleep.
* * *
The next time he woke up, he sat straight up and his heart was pounding.
Shit. The Dream. Not a good sign.
“Nightmare?”
Mac swallowed. Not alone. Right. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“Memory?”
“Closer.”
“There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some.” Coach was still bent over his keyboard like he was last night.
“Okay. Thanks.”
He went to the kitchen, where at least half the staff was eating in various stages of undress.
A few people waved or said hi. Punky lifted her mac and cheese, silently offering it, but he shook his head. He hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe he could eat after coffee.
“Hey, Mac.”
“Hi, Jem. Uh, hey, do you still have that room for rent?”
Jem raised his eyebrows. “Sure.”
“I heard that whoever was gonna take it decided to join the Marines or something.”
“Army, yeah, can you imagine? I would not do well in the military. Way too many rules, not nearly enough money.”
“Do you, uh, ever rent to people from here?” Mac raised a mug of coffee to his face, trying not to look too desperate. He might have dreamed something about this, before he had The Dream. He might have dreamed of waking up in a room that was only his, which had a door, maybe even a lock on it.
“I do,” Jem said slowly. “I’ve had a few kind of crummy experiences with it, and every time I swear I won’t do it again, but every time I do.”
“Oh. Uh, I understand. Never mind.”
“No, Mac, I’m saying if you want to see the room, come by. Plus, I have good experiences renting to staff, too. And it’s not like I’m your supervisor, so there’s no conflict of interest.”
Mac was glad he had his coffee to hide behind. “I, uh, don’t really—I don’t really need to see it.”
Something cleared in Jem’s expression. “Oh-h. Okay. Then the room’s yours. I’ll figure out the pro-rated rent for this month. It’s normally five hundred, plus a two-fifty security deposit. You can follow me over after work if you want.”
The relief was so immense for a moment it was all Mac felt. A room. A door. Then the word rent crashed down over the fantasy and he realized it was impossible.
“I don’t—you know, I can’t—maybe this should wait until I get paid—” No, no, I want a room, I want to leave here and go somewhere with a door, dammit.
“Oh, I know you’re good for it, no worries.” Jem punched his arm lightly. “I know where you work, remember? Give it to me when you have it, and the rest of the time rent’s due the first of the month.”
It was too good to be true. Too generous. Too kind. Mac started to shake his head. He’d get paid in two weeks. He could wait two weeks. Two more weeks on Annabel’s couch or catching naps in the car. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Stop doing that. You’re taking the room. Don’t make me tell Coach on you, Mac.”
Punky and the girl sitting next to her laughed. “He really will,” the girl said. “Jem’s a tattle tale.”
“Only when it’s in someone’s best interest,” Jem said primly.
“Which of course he always thinks he knows,” the girl said to Mac.
Like most of the banter he’d seen between the staff, this didn’t appear to have any real conflict behind it. He waited until Punky started talking to her friend again. “Hey, Jem, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Does everyone really get along here? It just seems like everyone’s really nice to each other.”
“Good. That’s how it’s supposed to look. It’s funny we pull it off.”
“So it’s a lie?”
“Not a lie, not really.” Jem stood back and glanced around. Enough people were talking that no one could really hear their conversation. “There were some problems maybe a year, year and a half ago. Just drama really, nothing earth-shattering, but it built up until it came out on the floor one night and Coach—” He paused to consider his words. “Basically he said our first priority is client service, and anyone who forgets that needs to find a different job. I mean, this is a pretty sweet gig if you like it, so no one really wants to leave. But just as a tip, don’t date other members of staff. For real.”
“No danger of that,” Mac said.
“Really? I can’t wait to meet this boyfriend of yours.” Jem’s easy smile died at Mac’s expression. “What? What’d I say?”
A week ago Mac would have bitten his head off. But since Jem was the person here he knew the best—and actually liked—he didn’t. Also, a week ago he had no idea how much he liked the way Coach’s hands felt on his skin.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Mac said. “And I’m not looking for one. So no danger.”
Jem gave him a long look before nodding. “Okay. And if I offended you, sorry. I may have assumed—”
“It’s fine. Were you really serious about me taking that room tonight?”
“Well, you’d have to wait until I’m off. I could give you the address, but it might be better if I’m there. And I don’t have the key on me, it’s at the house. Are you on the entire shift tonight?”
Which is when Mac remembered what was happening tonight. He flushed and stared into his coffee. “Uh, I don’t know. But I can wait. It’s not a problem.”
“Oooh, what did you just think of?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh huh. You can tell me later.”
“Probably not.”
Jem just grinned at him. “I’m glad you’re taking the room. It’s not so much that I need the rental income, but I like having a full house.”
“Uh. I’m not really, like, all that communal.”
“Well, the last person in that room was ‘communal’ in the sense that she ate everyone’s food and used their shampoo without asking, so I think if you’re saying you have, like, boundaries, everyone will be thrilled. Anyway, I’m gonna go get changed. See you later, Mac.”
“Have a good shift.”
“Oh, you too, definitely.” Jem winked.
Mac turned away and refilled his coffee. Cigarette, then shower. Then Coach.
Halfway through his shower he started thinking about Coach’s hands and had to remind himself he was only doing any of this for the money.
* * *
Mac knocked on the door and Coach called, “Come in, Mac!”
This time he let himself in and sat down. He was still tired, and the couches were still comfy. He toed out of his shoes and pulled in his feet.
“You all right?”
“I’ll be happy when I’m done at the store. Thanks for letting me crash here earlier.”
“Sure.” Coach glanced over his shoulder.
“I talked to Jem. He said I can have the room, that I can pay him when I get paid.”
“Jem is the dictionary definition of good people.”
“Yeah.”
“Give me another minute, okay?”
“Sure.” Mac closed his eyes. He didn’t think he completely fell asleep, but he was startled when Coach sat down beside him.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” He stared at the scar on Coach’s neck, which was safer than looking at his eyes.
“You subdued because of what we’re doing tonight or something else?”
If he said he was, Coach would change plans. But he’d been pretty clear that if someone wanted this, it would be Mac’s job to do it. And if he had to do it anyway, Coach was the best person to start with.
Coach made him feel safe, which in a way depressed him even more.
“Why does everyone think I’m gay here?”
“Do you want my honest answer, or the one that sounds like bullshit and won’t make you want to kick my ass?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was the memory that woke you up earlier? It made me want to hurt someone, seeing you look that terrified.”
Mac swallowed. “Wasn’t important.”
“Mac, if you’ve got some reason you don’t want someone touching you, I’d appreciate hearing it.”
“Not like that. It was—” It sounded a little crazy in his head. “My parents split when I was ten. I went with my mom, and my older brother went with my dad. But Dad was nuts, and my brother… I don’t know if he was always crazy, or he just went crazy stuck there in the house, but he used to find me at school and try to get me to move home with him and Dad.”
“With his fists?”
Mac shrugged. The Dream was enough. He didn’t need to relive the whole thing while he was conscious.
“Was he a big kid? Your brother?”
“Bigger than me. Three years older, but the schools were all in a row. Everyone thought it was so sweet, the way he’d come over to eat lunch with me every day.” Shake it off, shake it off, come on. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. Shitty dream, though.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Coach’s hand pressed Mac’s fist until it released and went flat on his leg. “I look at you and I don’t see a straight kid, you’re right. I touch you and I don’t see a straight guy reacting to my hand. But I’m projecting, Mac. You remind me of myself. I could be completely off-base.”
“Jem thinks I’m gay, too. He asked if I had a boyfriend.”
“I don’t know what Jem sees when he looks at you, though he knows from the schedule that you’re spending a lot of time with me. He could be assuming based on that.”
“If the Professor thought I was straight when we met, would I be doing all my training with her?”
“Not all of it, but more of it, probably. Or if at any point I felt you’d benefit more from training with her than me, we would have switched. We still can, if that’s what you’re requesting. The Professor has strap-ons.”
Mac’s eyes darted up before he could stop them. He wanted to see mockery, but Coach was teasing him. Not mocking him. Not trying to hurt him.
“Sorry. Though that’s true. We train for anal sex even though it’s not a highly requested activity because so many people have had bad experiences or no experiences. Some of our straight men on staff come in thinking they know what they’re doing, and only after realize how much pain they’d inadvertently caused whatever girlfriend allowed them in her ass as a birthday gift one time.”
“Does that actually happen? As a birthday gift?”
“Apparently. This part of your training goes for everyone. We know how to make it good, Mac.”
“I know. I’m not—I’m not actually worried about it that much.”
“We make it good for straight guys, too, you know. Liking the feel of a dick in your ass—or a finger, or a toy—doesn’t make you queer.”
What if I like the feel of your dick—in my mouth, on my skin, in my ass? What’s that make me? “Is that what you are? Queer?”
“Oh yeah. Yeah, definitely, no question. I like everyone. I like doing a whole lot of things with a whole lot of people.”
“What don’t you like doing?”
Coach stretched his arms over his head, and even sitting down, his back popped. “What don’t I like doing? It’s probably more what I don’t like doing with certain people. I wouldn’t really want you blindfolded. Jem’s a lot of fun to blindfold because he’s a control freak, so it wrecks him to not know what’s coming next.”
Shit. Jem, blindfolded.
“Hey. I’m talking to you about Jem because you’re friends with him. If I ever hear about you throwing any of this back in his face, you’re done here, Mac.”
The idea that Coach even though he had to give a warning like that hurt. “I wouldn’t.”
“I know. Or I wouldn’t be talking about it.” Coach lay back, pillowing his head on the arm of the chair. “Tonight will be fun. Tomorrow, though. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Listen, we’ve got about three hours tonight. And when I go back to the computer, I’d prefer it if you crashed here before going home, Mac.”
“I, uh, can’t go home. I mean, I’m waiting until Jem gets off shift anyway.”
Coach grinned. “Perfect. He’ll look for you here. You can sleep. You’d be better off sleeping or I’ll make you put receipts in chronological order.”
“Uh—”
“Not up for discussion. You can hit the kitchen to eat, but I want you in here, not wandering around trying to figure out something to do until Jem’s off. Can you last an entire shift without a cigarette?”
“Yeah. I ration pretty hard.”
“Does that mean you’ll smoke more when you get paid?”
Yeah, and I can’t fucking wait. “You want the answer that’s not gonna make you want to kick my ass, Coach?”
Coach sighed. “Never mind. Jesus. Disgusting. Get over here, Mac.”
“There’s not really room.”
“No?” Coach held out his arms, which was weird. Climbing over him and awkwardly trying to keep himself from falling off the couch was more weird. “Give me your weight, Mac. You don’t have to hover over me.”
“Uh. This isn’t awkward for you?”
“You’re making it awkward, which actually makes it good for me. Your awkwardness is a turn-on.”
“Prick.”
“Just wait.”
Jeans were not the ideal clothing option for straddling a dude on a couch. Mac had to wiggle his arms under Coach’s shoulders in order to actually come down on top of him. The second he did, Coach’s legs came up over his.
Shit. Coach was already hard. Even through two pairs of pants, Mac could feel that.
“Man, you are gonna hate tomorrow. So much. I’m giddy-excited about it.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Mac asked, frowning at Coach’s chin.
“Oh, you’ll see. It’s going to be six hours of amazing.”
“Coach, come on, what the—”
“Shh, Mac. Be in the moment with me. Be in the moment, on top of me. You can put your head down, you know.”
“Fuck you, Coach. I don’t cuddle.”
Coach dragged his face over until he could feel hot breath against his ear. “When I’m done with it you’ll be desperate for more, Mac. You’ll want cuddling more than you ever wanted sex. Just wait.”
That was an awful thought. “That can’t be part of the training.”
“I only have to justify my methods to the Professor and she signed off on this.”
“Wait. Are you—you’re saying—are we cuddling tomorrow? You were serious about that? I thought you were messing around.”
“Oh yeah. Cuddling. And kissing. It’s going to be epic. It’s gonna turn you inside out, Mac. Just wait.”
“I don’t want to be turned inside out.”
Coach tugged him until his head was on the arm of the couch, his entire body resting on Coach’s. They could feel each other’s breaths. When Coach tightened his legs, he could probably feel exactly how much Mac’s dick was liking it.
“I’ll put you back together again before you leave. I promise. I won’t send you out with your heart on your sleeve, Mac. There’s a story behind that one, isn’t there?”
“No.”
“Oh good. I won’t ask. I’m a very patient man, Mac.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re a liar.”
Coach laughed. “I like this, you on top of me. I can’t decide how I want you to top me, but this might be it.”
“What?” Did he just say—?
“We’ve taken turns with everything else. Did you think this would be different?”
Yes. Mac tried to lift his head, but Coach kept it down. “But—”
“Hey, I work here, too. Though only a few of our clients remember when I took a more active role on the floor. Man, I hope Malcolm wants your service, Mac. I still learn from him when he tops me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly looking forward to anyone wanting my ass, Coach.”
“You have a few weeks to adjust your attitude in favor of client services. You should talk to Lupe and Travis. Both of them came up with tricks to deal with requests that didn’t thrill them.”
“I don’t know Travis.”
“He’s the one with the little brother who’s joining the Army. He’s pretty broken up about it, too.” Coach’s hand trailed up and down Mac’s back in a way Mac was trying hard not to find soothing. “I admire people who join the military, but I understand where Travis is coming from, too. You should ask Trav about Malcolm.”
“I don’t really want to know.”
“Malcolm has a way about him. But you’ll probably meet him inside a week once you’re done with training. He took one look at me and decided I needed to learn what a real man felt like in my ass.”
Mac could feel his body react to the bravado like it was a physical presence in the room.
“Yeah, I know. He found the exact way to poke my resistance. But I did my job and offered the service required by the client and the next time he saw me, I flirted, hoping he’d teach me all over again what a real man feels like.”
“Coach…some guy says that to me, I’m not sure I can pretend it’s okay.”
“Most people won’t. Malcolm is uncommon. But you’ll find ways of masking your initial feelings about new things, Mac.”
“Or this isn’t the job for me?”
“Right. Though I’m not real worried about that.”
“I am.”
“Nah. You’ll figure it out. It’s a little easier when you get on the floor next week shadowing people. Once you see what staff actually does, it becomes less of a question mark.”
“I guess so, Coach.”
“Yeah, you can trust me. I’m charming, right?”
“Shut up, Coach.”
The hand on his back dug in a little, through his shirt. “Today we use lube. You ever had a finger in your butt, Mac?”
“Fuck no.”
Coach hugged him closer with one arm, working the other hand under his shirt. “Fuck no, huh?”
“It’s gross, Coach. It’s your ass.”
“Is a vagina gross?”
“No.”
“Jem thinks it is.”
“That’s different. This is ass.”
“Sure is.” Coach’s fingers worked under the waistband of his jeans. “So tight, so hot, so hard. Ass is different. Pushing into ass is different. Stretching ass is different.”
A finger snaked down between his cheeks and Mac pressed his eyes into Coach’s neck. He wanted this to be the worst thing ever, but it was Coach, so he couldn’t make it the worst thing ever.
“A finger in your ass is wild, Mac. That pressure, that movement. You don’t have to love it. I want to get you to the point you can relax and accept something in your ass without fighting it. That’s all. I think I can get you to the place where you find pleasure, but it’s not for everyone. Nothing’s for everyone. Some people don’t like kissing, can you imagine that?”
“I don’t like kissing.”
“Is that right?”
Mac braced, expecting Coach to come at him, prove him wrong. Instead, Coach only kissed the side of his face, one time, and continued exploring his ass.
“I’m just lucky. I like almost everything. It’d blow your mind, some of the things I like.”
“Yeah, right, Coach.”
“Oh, it would. I’d tell you, but I don’t want to freak you out.”
“Shut up, Coach.”
“I think what you really want is for me to keep talking.”
“I don’t want to hear the freaky shit you’re into.”
“You sure about that?” The finger dragged over his hole like Coach was plucking a string, again and again until Mac realized he was panting.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, Mac. I’ll believe you. You don’t want to hear anything about me. You don’t want to know how much I like spanking naughty boys and girls, or how much I like it when someone ties me ass-up and whales on me with a paddle. You don’t want to know all that, right?”
Mac gulped and kept his eyes squeezed shut.
“Man, I hope you go for more levels. Teasing out all the stuff you try so hard not to want is becoming kind of addictive.” Coach pulled his hand out and reached down with the other, kneading Mac’s ass through his jeans. “Yeah. This is good. I like doing this knowing any minute now these will be gone and I’ll have your skin to play with. You like that? You like knowing I’m gonna have my hands on you?”
“I just want to have sex and get paid,” Mac mumbled.
“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll keep my enjoyment to myself.”
Which sounded kind of crappy, actually, but Mac couldn’t say anything. Mac definitely couldn’t say No, I take it back, keep talking.
“Mm,” Coach said, pressing his ass cheeks together through jeans, pulling them apart. His legs went tense and he thrust up against Mac, hands holding him down to grind their dicks together. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Mac had no idea how long they lay there, but when Coach nudged him up and off, he knew he was dripping inside his boxers. He’d been rutting into Coach for a while now, eyes shut, trying to pretend he was acting. It should have been easier without Coach’s constant chatter, but it wasn’t.
“This off,” Coach said, pulling Mac’s shirt up and over. “Jem said you could use a uniform allowance, so the Professor will have a check for you tomorrow.” He nuzzled the side of Mac’s face. “Sorry, bad timing, but I didn’t want to forget. When’s your last day at the store?”
“Monday.”
“All right. And you’re going to Jem’s tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“You won’t have a bed.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t have a bed now. But I’ll have a door. I haven’t had a door in…” Months. Months since the last time he’d rented a room.
“Will you tell me why someone with a steady income doesn’t have a place to live?”
“I fucked up my credit pretty much the second I had credit. You guys must not have run it or you wouldn’t have hired me.”
“The Professor finds credit history searches invasive.”
“Me too.”
Another kiss, this time to his forehead. “Is that the only reason?”
“I’m not really good at living with people.” Which was true, just not exactly the truth. “I probably shouldn’t have asked Jem, but I just— I’m just so tired.”
“Okay.” Coach took his hand and led him over to the mats, which had a few layers of blankets this time. He hit something on a remote and the lights changed. The one over his desk stayed bright, but the rest of the lights in the room dimmed.
“This some kind of romantic seduction thing now, Coach?”
Coach hit another thing on the remote and now the lights barely glowed, and the one over the desk went off entirely. “This and candles are a seduction, Mac.” He switched it back. “This is how I save my eyes. Sit over me again, but we can spread out now.”
Shit, right, Coach on his back, looking up at dimmed lights, looking up at Mac and waiting.
“You want me to take my clothes off?”
“I want both of us to take our clothes off.”
“Then why—” Mac gestured between them. “Why aren’t we?”
“Because I want to make you comfortable more than I want to see you naked. How about we shuck the pants and keep the shorts?”
Mac clenched his fists and made them relax. “Stop fucking coddling me. I can take this. I can take you fucking me, Coach. Stop acting like I—” What had the Professor said? “I’m not a fucking delicate flower or whatever, dammit.”
“It’s snowflake, and there’s a reason she uses that phrase, Mac. Because snowflakes are by their nature delicate. Just like men.”
He shot a look at Coach, but of course Coach looked sincere as hell. Like always. “Whatever. I just want to get this over with and go to sleep so I can be at the store in seven hours.”
Coach sat up. “Seven hours. You go to the store at six a.m. after leaving here? Mac, when do you sleep?”
“After work. I’m off at two. Plenty of time.”
“Boy are you lucky the Professor doesn’t know that. She would have called them pretending to be your doctor and threatened a worker’s comp case if they didn’t release you from your notice.” Coach shook his head. “I don’t know. Something about this doesn’t quite hit me right, though it’s none of my business. But we can definitely take it faster so you can crash. Take off your clothes.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Both of them naked now, on the mats, on the blankets.
“C’mere, Mac. Kneel up higher, yeah, that’s right.” Coach sniffed at his dick, which was fucking weird and Mac pulled back. “Hey, get your ass back over here. I like the way you smell.”
“Gross, Coach.”
“Nah, not gross.” Coach pulled his dick over and sniffed longer. “A little spicy, a little loamy.” He sucked in the head of Mac’s dick and smiled around it. “Yeah, you taste good, too.”
“Christ, Coach, stop it.”
“You think girls taste good?”
“No, I don’t want to be tasting anyone, I just want—”
“To have sex and get paid, I know. This is the having sex part of that equation.” Coach sucked him again for a minute, tugging him in by his ass now, going back to kneading. “Lube’s right on the side there, hand it to me.”
Mac knelt up and grabbed the bottle, passing it to Coach without making eye contact.
“Prep every time. If a guy’s especially loose and relaxed, you can adapt accordingly. If a guy’s tight, give him some stretching even if he says he doesn’t need it, at least until you get the hang of things.”
“Will I be doing it that much? Fucking guys, I mean.”
“I have no idea what you’ll be doing on the floor. I look forward to finding out.”
Fucking Coach and his evasive answers. Non-answers. Whatever the fuck they were.
Shit. Mac really did not like the way Coach was lubing up his hands right now.
“Some people think you can never use too much lube. For fisting, I might agree. For stretching I think there’s a definite line where more is not better.”
“Fisting?”
“Don’t worry, Mac. You’ll have to fist and be fisted on your own time; we don’t train for it here.”
Mac shuddered. Even the word was fucking ominous.
“Mm, it’s an acquired taste, maybe.”
“Don’t fucking tell me you like a guy’s fucking fist in your ass, Coach.”
“All the way up to his elbow, if he’s good. Or she. Some of the best fisters I know are women.”
“You’re just messing with me, aren’t you, Coach?”
“Nothing I said was untrue, but that doesn’t mean I’m not messing with you. Get back up here where I can reach your ass, Mac.”
Mac scooted up and Coach took his dick in, sucking lightly as he reached around, hands sliding over skin. An insistent tug and Mac moved up more. Coach “mmm”d around his dick, which definitely felt like a stamp of approval.
Shit, shit, fingers in his crack, fingers holding him open. Fingers brushing against his hole.
The suction increased, distracting him, but not enough. He couldn’t help going stiff.
Coach’s fingers didn’t probe deeper, just kept up the steady presence, the steady movement, calming and not quite as fucked up as Mac had hoped. This was supposed to feel gross, but so far it only seemed gross. It didn’t feel good, exactly, but the scary part was all in his head.
He slowly relaxed and Coach pulled back, ducking his head down to suck on the skin of Mac’s stomach, letting his nose brush against Mac’s hard (now wet) dick. Coach’s eyes were closed as he sucked and licked and used his nose and cheeks and lips all over Mac. This was training, but it was also pleasure for him. He wasn’t lying. And he sure as shit wasn’t pretending.
“Coach,” Mac murmured.
“Hm?”
“Do it.”
Coach looked up at him. “You feel really good. I know you’re trying to relax. I can feel it.” His fingers kept moving, slower, until one of them was at his entrance. “Keep breathing. This won’t hurt. A finger doesn’t hurt, if you use lube and you’re gentle. I’m always gentle, Mac.”
“I know.”
It was too much to watch Coach while his finger pushed inside, but Mac couldn’t look away and Coach wouldn’t. The finger pressed around, firm, slow, then in. Inside. Inside him.
He was shaking. He couldn’t help it. It didn’t hurt, Coach was right. It didn’t hurt at all. But he couldn’t stop shaking.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m okay. It’s okay. It’s just—it’s just overwhelming.”
“Let me help.”
Oh, sure, yeah, help meaning suck your dick, right. Mac got that kind of help all the time.
But this was new, this was different. Being blown with a finger in his ass felt—good. Yeah. No getting around that. Coach’s other hand was stroking over the skin of his ass, and when his finger went deeper, he stroked harder and sucked harder, all at once.
Mac closed his eyes and threw his head back, thrusting into Coach.
The second finger burned a little and he had to breathe when Coach told him to before it started to feel better. Two fingers sliding in and out, though, once he’d relaxed enough to take them, two fingers felt better than one. Two fingers and a blowjob felt better still.
Coach gave it to him for a long time, until he thought he might actually come with a guy’s fingers in his ass, then slowed everything down again.
“Your turn,” Coach rasped. “After I grab some water.” But he didn’t let go right away. He ran his left hand up to Mac’s back and rubbed there for a few seconds, watching him.
“You want me to stick my fingers in your ass?”
“Damn right. And then your cock.”
Mac sat back, half on his heels, half on Coach’s belly. “I would have come if you hadn’t stopped.”
“I know.”
“So why’d you stop?”
“Because I want you to be turned on when you’re finger-fucking my ass, Mac. I want you hard. I want you thinking about how good it’d feel to be hard inside my ass. I want you to think about how hot it’d be to come while you’re inside. I’m definitely thinking about how hot it would be if you came in my ass.”
“You gonna do that?”
“Come in your ass? Maybe.”
Mac chewed his tongue, thinking about how weird it was he could have this conversation without wanting to hit anything. “Sorry. You, uh, you’re thirsty.” He rolled off and sat up awkwardly, not wanting to get lube all over the blankets.
“No worries.” Coach washed up at the sink and downed half a bottle of water. He gestured to Mac. “Bathroom in between my office and the Professor’s. Knock first, but you can use it if you’re uncomfortable.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t hide in the bathroom. For long, anyway. Also, lube was hard to get rid of with toilet paper, damn.
When he returned to the mats, condoms and gloves had joined the lube and Coach was lounging there, watching his approach.
“Gloves are a personal preference thing. They cut down on sensation, but make clean-up easier.”
“Sensation for—the uh—for the person wearing them?”
“Right. They’re great if you have a medical kink, though.” Coach grinned.
“You’re kind of depraved.”
“Yep. Get your ass over here.”
“You want me to lie down like you did?”
“Nope. I want you to see what you’re doing.” Coach rolled over, face-down, and stuck his ass in the air.
“Whoa.”
“Uh huh. Glove up, Mac.”
“You want me to wear gloves?”
“Try it with gloves. I think gloves are a decent precaution at work, but I’d probably never use them personally.”
“So you don’t have a what’s-it-called, a medical thing?”
“Nah. I was always worried if I started playing that way I’d never be able to look my doctor in the eye again. Glove up, Mac.”
Right. He awkwardly pulled on gloves, and when Coach tossed the bottle of lube back, he opened it.
“This is pretty weird.”
“You remember how I used my fingers at first? I didn’t just dive in, I messed around a little.”
“Yeah?”
“Go on. Mess around a little. When you feel good about it, start opening me up.”
Mac swallowed, unwillingly turned on by the idea of it. “Really weird,” he mumbled, and knelt behind Coach.
Coach didn’t talk through it. He occasionally showed Mac something different (“You feel me tense up? Now you feel how relaxed I can be, how loose?”), but for the most part he let Mac try different things, responding only by pushing back, or sighing.
Two fingers slid into Coach almost without pushing. Mac fucked him for a while like that before asking, “Should I—I mean, is three too many, or—”
“Three would be good.”
Three was a little harder, and felt more awkward in his hand. Still, Coach took it without getting too tight, letting Mac control the rhythm, the depth. When he went in as deep as he could, knuckles hitting ass, Coach grunted. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Hold that for a minute. Let me feel it.” A few breaths later he said, “Twist your wrist, slowly, yeah. Yeah, good, Mac. Real good.”
And yeah, Coach was all kinds of open. Mac could see inside him if he spread his fingers a little. Shit. That was fucking intense. He twisted and spread his fingers open at the same time, trying to catch another glimpse.
“That’s so good. Man. You feel so good.”
Mac shivered, fighting the words, the pleasure of those words in Coach’s voice.
Something hit his leg. A condom.
“Uh. What’s that for?”
“It’s a condom, genius. Figure it out.”
“Uh. But. You haven’t taken your turn yet.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go last this time. Go on. I’m pretty excited to feel your dick right now.”
What a fucking weird thing to say. Mac pulled out of Coach’s ass and pulled his gloves off inside out, balling them up and tossing them off to the side.
And oh shit, Coach’s hole. It looked all shiny, like it wanted to be fucked right now, like it was fucking hungry.
Mac rolled the condom on, lubed it up, and positioned himself. When Coach reached back to guide him in, he shifted forward and let Coach do it.
And that? Pushing into Coach was unlike anything Mac had ever done. Weird, and also incredibly hot, incredibly tight.
“Deeper, come on. Give it to me, Mac. Balls-deep.”
Shit. Mac leaned a little, letting Coach take his weight, and Coach groaned. No mistaking that sound for anything but pleasure.
“So good, you feel so good, come on, keep going. I like it a little rough, I want to feel it.”
Mac understood I like it a little rough in terms of pussy, which was a hell of a lot different than the vise-grip of Coach’s ass. He tried to apply the same motions, then shifted his center of gravity and tried again. It only took another minute to find the right rhythm, and when he did, Coach started pushing back to meet each thrust.
Deep, yeah. Way deeper than he thought you could go in an ass. And Coach was taking it like he wanted more, more, more, which was so intense, and so hot, Mac could hardly keep up, right up until he realized he couldn’t hold on.
“Coach—Coach, I—I’m—”
By the time Coach said, “Do it, do it, Mac, do it—” he was already coming, hard, as deep in Coach as he could get.
“Shit,” he whispered, not moving. “Oh shit, Coach.”
Coach reached back and awkwardly squeezed his arm. “Yeah. Good. That was good, wasn’t it? It was definitely good for me.”
“I, uh—I should—”
“Not much for pillow talk, my friend. All right. Go on, get washed up. Drink some water.”
Mac pulled out and got rid of all the trash he’d generated during this whole fucking Coach in the ass thing, and yeah, wow, fucking Coach in the ass, that was definitely not where he thought shit was gonna go tonight. Not that he could really complain.
When he came back to the mat, Coach was watching him again, and this time he stretched out on his side, mirroring Coach’s position, and waited.
“Thank you. You were gentle when you needed to be gentle and rough when I asked you to be rough. That’s exactly how you do it with clients.”
“Okay.”
“You have anything you want to say?”
“Before you return the favor, you mean?”
“Yeah, Mac.”
He shook his head.
“Hm.” Coach reached out to cup his cheek. “The most common way people have anal sex in the private rooms is quick and dirty standing up, leaned over one of the massage tables. That’s also a relatively common way female staff members have vaginal sex, and a less common way female clients request vaginal sex. They’ll usually go in for topping on the bed.”
Mac took a deep breath and nodded.
“Next week you’ll shadow staff members. If you don’t feel ready to be on the floor, you can shadow again the following week. We’d rather you took your time than had a panic attack.”
“I’m not gonna have a panic attack. I can have sex for money. It’s this—this thing where you act like you give a shit. If I had to do this all the time I’d quit.”
Coach’s face froze for a long moment. Mac swallowed and started breathing faster, waiting for the hand on his face to hit him, waiting for a grab, waiting for Coach’s expression to twist to rage.
“You really destroy me, you know that?” The hand tapped a couple of times. “We aren’t gonna do this like you’d do it with a client. I’m gonna lie back again and you’ll be on top of me, like you were yesterday.”
Shit. “Yeah, all right.”
“Hop up, then.” But before he pulled away, Coach tapped his cheek again. “I definitely don’t want you to quit.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know what you meant. Come on.”
Like yesterday, right, which made it a little easier, a little less weird to throw a leg over Coach and kneel.
“Come back up here. More lube, more stretching.”
Right. Mac didn’t say anything, and when Coach slid a lubed finger into him, he could feel how much more relaxed he was this time. Every muscle in his body didn’t lock down.
“Better, right? Partly because you aren’t as nervous, but also because you just came, and the pleasure centers in your head are still a little blissed out from it.”
“Blissed out pleasure centers, Coach?”
“Yep.”
Two fingers, and Coach made it feel pretty good, having two fingers in his ass, even without blowing him.
“You’re good to go, Mac. Back up and let me do the technical side of this, all right? You’ll be able to control everything about it.”
“It’s not a big deal, Coach.”
“I know it isn’t. And I’m a little sorry about that, too.”
There was no point asking what that meant.
Coach’s hands were on him, yeah, guiding him, making space against his skin. When he felt the blunt pressure of a dick, he took a breath, but let Coach keep doing everything the way he had been. That was the head of Coach’s dick. That was Coach’s fingers. That was Coach’s dick pressing against him.
He hissed when it entered and Coach held him still.
“It’s all you now, Mac. Take it as fast or slow as you want to take it.”
Yeah, fuck slow. Mac bore down and shit, shit, that was a lot of fucking pressure, and more than a little fucking burn. He gritted his teeth.
“Wait. Stop. Don’t—”
But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to do this thing that had been hanging over him for the last four days. Mac fought the tension in Coach’s hands gripping his sides and sat all the way down, even though it felt like he was being torn open.
“For future reference,” Coach said through gritted teeth, “that’s the wrong way to do this. Jackass.”
Mac glared down at Coach with tears in his eyes and said, “Is it good for you, Coach?”
“No, Mac. It really isn’t. I’m not that kind of asshole.”
“You never swear.”
“I swear deliberately, as opposed to indiscriminately. Now stop moving.”
Mac wanted to disobey for the sake of disobeying, but it fucking hurt, so he stopped.
“All right.” Coach’s hands ran up and down Mac’s ribs, smoothing over his abdomen. “You’d rather feel pain than pleasure. Understood. I thought I knew that before, but this has been a helpful illustration. I will get you back tomorrow.”
“Are we, uh, are we doing this again tomorrow?”
“Oh, we’re never doing this again. Next time I take your ass, we’re doing it my way. You feel pretty tore up right now, Mac?”
Mac shrugged like it didn’t matter.
“Yeah. Okay. If we’d done this my way, you’d be in hog heaven, but we didn’t.” Coach shook his head, hands still moving. “You ass. I’m flipping us now.”
Before Mac could even ask what the hell that meant, he was on his back and Coach was leaning over him. He thought he saw anger, but he blinked again and it was gone. He looked away.
“No, no, no, don’t even think about avoiding me like I’m the asshole here. Look—” Long fucking pause. “Does it mean anything to you, at all, that you just used me to hurt yourself? Does that even register? I like you, Mac. I hired you, I’m training you, and I actually like you. And you didn’t even hesitate to use me to cause yourself pain.”
Mac clenched his jaw. “You said fast or slow. I picked fast.”
“Right. Okay. You’re right, I did say that.” Coach shook his head and reached down. Mac tensed, but Coach pulling out of his ass wasn’t a sensation he could actually fight feeling. And it burned, too. He grimaced, not quite daring to close his eyes.
Shit, though, Coach was no longer looking at him. At all.
Coach got himself cleaned up and pulled another blanket out of the ottoman, which he tossed on the sofa closest to the desk. “Wash up and put your clothes on. Get some rest before you’ve got to go to work.”
“We’re finished? I mean, you didn’t—you didn’t even—”
“Yeah, weirdly not turned on anymore.” Coach reached for his hands, and after a second, Mac let himself be pulled to his feet. “Next time I’m gonna make it so good for you, you’ll cry. You will rue the day you hurt yourself in front of me.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“I know you think that’s true. If you’re gonna eat, go hit the kitchen. But you will come back here, and you will sleep on my couch until Jem’s ready to leave. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach.”
He didn’t need food. He did go down to the locker room and take a shower before curling up in the office. Right in the middle of thinking about how there was no way he’d sleep, even with the lights still dimmed, Mac fell asleep.
* * *
Voices again.
“He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep.”
“I know it. Punk.”
“Hey, Coach. Be nice.”
“Get your butt over here.”
Mac risked slitting his eyes open. From his place on the couch he could just see Jem’s upper body where he was standing between Coach’s legs. He watched Jem lean down for a kiss.
“Aw, what’s up? I thought you’d like having him all to yourself. I know he likes you having him to yourself.”
Mac flushed.
“You jealous, Jem?”
“Of holing up in here all night with you? Of course. But not of the place I used to be in my head when I needed it as much as Mac does. Dark days, Coach.”
“You are a very good man, Jem. I learn so much from you.”
“Like how bad training can really go? I’m still embarrassed.”
“No. We’re taking things slower with Mac because we took them too fast with you.” They kissed again. “Never mind. I can’t, you know, talk this out with you. But do me a favor and offer him an ear.”
“That’s not a favor. I like him. He’s a mess, but I like him. And anyway, the Professor hired him so he must be okay.”
“She hired him because he reminded her of me.”
“And she hired me because I reminded her of Ryan. Look, he and I are destined to be friends, don’t you think?”
“You only reminded us of Ryan in the beginning, Jem.”
Jem reached out to touch Coach’s throat. It shouldn’t have been more intimate than kissing, but from Mac’s angle, it sure looked like it was. “Whatever’s going on, you’ll fix it tomorrow. Don’t lose sleep. I’ll take Mac to the house and you’ll see him when he comes in.”
“Wise, wise man, Jem.”
“Hey, let the Professor be nice to you, why don’t you? Should I run next door and tell her you need a little TLC?”
“Only if you want me to fire your ass.”
“She wouldn’t let you. You’ve invested way too much time in training me to fire me now, Coach. I miss that, you know. There’s no more training left. I hardly ever see you now.”
“Jem, you can request my service at any time. I work here, you know.”
“Shut up. I can’t afford you.”
Another kiss and Mac closed his eyes.
“Anytime. You can request my service anytime.”
“You’re a tease. Hey, has Lupe talked to you?”
“Sister Lupe’s involved. Now we have a game. She talked to me.”
“So? You gonna let him train with her?”
“She thinks he’ll be fine.”
“I know. What do you think?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” The sound of the chair rolling back. “Let’s wake up Sleeping Beauty here so the two of you can go home.”
Mac pretended to wake up, said goodnight to Coach, and hello to Jem. He didn’t meet their eyes and followed Jem’s heels all the way to the parking lot.
In one week he’d joined the staff of a sex gym and found a place to live. With the staff of the sex gym.
It still felt a little like a cult, but for some reason Mac didn’t mind anymore.