Break a Sweat: MM Sports Romance

by Joe Satoria

  —too late, his entire body was tanned, with the exception of the white marks around his waist and the V-shape cutting into his muscle. From what I saw, the short glimpse stained my memory—he had a small patch of hair right above his hand.

  The initial shot of cold in the shower sorted me out.

  Then he sang, reminding me he was still there, and he wasn’t going anywhere—not from the shower room and certainly not from my brain.

  His abdominals must have been sculpted by clay. There wasn’t an in inch of him that didn’t appear muscular.

  I look down myself. I was athletic; I wasn’t a bodybuilder, but my muscles didn’t push out like that unless I was tensing and flexed—was he, flexing for me? No, I snapped back at myself again. He was just being annoying, he’s not into you, he’s straight.

  Once the shower was warm, I stuck myself under it and let the water wash over me, although it didn’t work to wash over what was going on inside my head—my brain was thinking of him, he was across the room, singing voice getting louder.

  Opening my eyes, I look to the door and the towel on the hook, but there was a small gap right between where the door closed on the latch and where the stone barrier was started. It was only a couple of centimetres, but I could see out of it—straight through to—his door. It was still open.

  As I watched and as the hot water massaged my skin, I got an erection.

  My hand grabbed it—trying to push it away, but contact made it worse. Now wasn’t the time to play, even though I continued to watch him squirt a handful of shampoo into the palm of his hand. He massaged it into his head, rolling his hand down his body, the soapy suds foaming up on contact. All the way down.

  Covered in white bubbles, his low-hanging balls and flaccid cock. He tugged at them with a hand, massaging away the soap.

  Pressed against the cold tile, I let out a deep pant—my hand created a tight hole around my cock as I fucked it. Watching him wash away the suds to reveal his naked body like a scratch-off ticket. A deeper moan fried at my vocal chords.

  He looked over.

  He looked me in the eye.

  “Spying on me?”

  In a panic, I cleared my throat. “What?” I turned to let the water splash over the shampoo in my hair.

  “I saw you.”

  I tried pressing the action back with my hand. It wasn’t working. “What?” I asked again, louder as water drummed in my ears. I tried to whack it—springing up at my stomach each time.

  KNOCK. KNOCK.

  “I saw you spying.”

  “I’m showering. What—what do you want?”

  He knocked once more. “Open up then.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, why?”

  His hand appeared over the top of the cubical door. “C’mon.” He left wet marks as he tried pulling at my towel on the hook.

  “Right, right!” I unlatched the door, pulling slightly as I stayed behind it. “What?”

  He stood with a hand covering his balls and a giant smirk eating up his face. “Admit it.”

  “What?” I didn’t want to feed his ego any more than he was feeding it himself.

  “You were watching me.” He shrugged, combing a hand through his wet hair “I’m here now.” He winked, holding both arms up.

  “I wasn’t—” I turned after the glimpse.

  This was the closest I’d been to a naked guy in nearly six months.

  His hand at my arm. “I saw you, c’mon.” He tugged my arm, freeing my erection. I caught it, pushing it back up at my stomach. “I can see it. You were wanking over me.”

  It wasn’t going anywhere. “Shut up, you wish.” I turned to stare him in the face.

  He was centimetres from me. “Perv.” Between the shower and the warmth from his body—I wasn’t getting rid of my erection at all.

  “Shut up.” I hadn’t moved my gaze. I’d seen enough, I wish I hadn’t seen any of it.

  His hand grabbed at my hand. “Come on,” he said as my open palm touched at the fleshy hardness of his dick. “You can if you want.” His tongue gently pressed between his teeth. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  His face touched mine, pressing his lips on my lips.

  “No.” I pulled away.

  He stepped back as I leapt from the shower, soaked in suds and water. I bundled my clothes and raced onwards, pulling at another towel from the closet. My footprints followed me, and my body dripped water like a shivering dog as I reached the room.

  If only they had locks, I could lock myself behind the door and forget any of that happened. It really happened, right? I wasn’t imagining it, he did that with his mouth, and he was hard too.

  What the fuck.

  8. JORDAN

  I knew he was watching. I’d been singing to get his attention. Why else would I have left the cubicle door open? I liked the rush—when I caught him. It made me feel something—and for the first time, it wasn’t fuelled by adrenaline rage, it was something different.

  Harvey was dead asleep when I got back to the room. He’d left his stuff in the shower too, when he ran out with his erection flopping around, slapping him. I smirked in that memory. It wasn’t all bad, I took his things back to the room for him.

  I chewed on the end of my tongue, thinking of him. I knew he wanted to touch me; I could see it in his eyes. They were so hungry. “Fuck,” I let out through a breathy groan.

  I wished he had—my cock throbbed in shorts as I laid on the bed, looking across to see him sleeping. Maybe he was pretending. In the dull light of night, I looked across his side of the room—it was clean.

  Squeezing my cock, I closed my eyes. Why couldn’t he have just leaned into it? Why couldn’t he have taken it in his stride—I thought that’s what he was into anyway.

  Waking—I didn’t recall falling to sleep. I woke with an erection pressed against my palm, my head turned to Harvey’s empty bed as the morning light shone across it.

  My cock throbbed.

  I should’ve got all my energy out last night. I could’ve rested back in the shower—close my eyes, arms behind my head and let him—

  —oh god, oh—

  No.

  Pulsing in my hand my cock fired several spurts of hot cum up at my stomach. The milky clear liquid pooling in my belly button.

  I’d just came over the thought of him. I’d never done that before; cumming over the thought of someone giving me head. It happened within minutes—seconds.

  Sitting, I inhaled to make a small alcove in my body so the cum didn’t mess the sheets.

  I looked over the bed and grabbed at a sock. It was his—whatever, it didn’t matter. Rolling it inside out, I cleaned myself off. I threw it back across to his side of the room, landing beside his holdall.

  Changing out of my shorts into a clean pair, I pulled myself into a hoodie and looked to the schedule pinned against the wall by the bed. After breakfast there was free training until my one-on-one before lunch. I turned on a heel to double check Harvey’s schedule, wherever he’d gone, he couldn’t avoid me—besides, he was the one who was masturbating over me, not the other way around.

  Reaching the dining hall, it was nearly empty. I saw Mladen, first, of course, the lanky fuck standing by the breakfast counter. I double checked my watch, it was only forty minutes in, everyone was usually protein loading for the day or at least devouring scrambled egg whites.

  “Where’s everyone at?”

  Mladen turned. “Well, you’re here.” He popped gum. “I thought I’d missed breakfast.”

  “Where’s everyone at?”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “I’m too tired to think,” he said. “I was in the gym so late.”

  I looked over the buffet hot plates—people had been here eating. I was even more confused now, from Harvey leaving the room early to nobody being around for the breakfast rush.

  One of the women from the kitchen appeared. “Oh, everyone ran out of here earlier,” she said, giving a dramatic slap to her head. “Big day, I think.”<
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  “What? Why?” I looked to Mladen—none the wiser.

  “Big tennis player coming today.” Her eyes wide, she clicked her tongue. “Big star.”

  “Who?” I knew they brought in guests, but nobody told me anyone would be here today—and nobody had told me who it was—I was the first to know, I was friends with anyone who would know. “The scout?”

  Mladen popped his gum. “Oh,” he gasped.

  “Who?”

  “Their son?”

  I scoffed at the comment. Pedro and Petra’s son wouldn’t step foot near this place. He hated his family—they’d pushed him to the brink a couple years back, then he was put in a psych hold. “Nico hates this place.” I grabbed an apple. “When’s your one-on-one?”

  “After lunch,” he said. “I’m nervous, Pedro was killing it yesterday with criticism.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t heard anyone else’s criticisms, but everyone heard what he had to say about me and the way I moved—including the foul he knew wasn’t a foul, he just wanted to pull me on something so desperately. “Tell me.” I took a seat and bit into the apple.

  Mladen fumbled with his fingers, letting out a sigh as he sat beside me. “I need to get faster,” he said, “also he told me to work on cardio because that helps.”

  It made sense why he’d been in the gym. I hadn’t seen anyone last night when I walked by with Harvey—we must’ve been out much later. More sense considering we were the only two in the shower room—I couldn’t even remember the time.

  “Well, he said the same to me,” I told him—probably why I got on the running machine, he’d got in my head, but it was the same thing, each and every time he’d mention cardio, he’d bring up my speed and stamina—trust me, I had the speed and the stamina.

  There had never been a complaint before.

  “When’s your session?” he asked.

  Chewing on the apple, my mind went over what I’d been told yesterday alongside everything else with Harvey—he was avoiding me, I knew it. Looking back to Mladen, he was expecting an answer. “Second, after Harvey,” I said with apple juice foaming in my mouth.

  “Lucky, he’s a great player,” he said.

  “He’s a charity case.”

  “What?” he let out with a gasp. “I wondered who won the scholarship. Well-deserved then, I think. I wonder which one of the girls got it.”

  The girls. I’d seen them last night as well. After Harvey left me hanging in the bathroom, I took a trip to the common room in my towel. The German girls were there; sisters, Hanna and Mila. They were on their phones crying. That’s what really killed the mood for me last night.

  “Probably Jana,” Mladen chuckled. “I mean, she’s Russian, she probably threatened them.”

  I wasn’t listening. “Surprised you didn’t win the girl’s scholarship,” I offered back.

  “No, I said, Jana.”

  He had a point—not the threatened thing, but Jana was a strong player. “Right. Have you seen her play?”

  “No, have you?”

  Long black hair and a face made of stone, that was Jana. “Yeah, I bet she could easily take you in a tennis match, Mladamir.”

  “Mlad.” His gum leapt from his tongue to the floor.

  I stood, snarling in disgust. “Animal.”

  * * *

  I waited for my one-on-one in the aboveground gym using the free weights. Focused on the green metal tennis court barrier, I got my arms pumped with 15KG dumbbells.

  Sandro and Cesar were on the ellipticals behind me, burning up a sweat with the constant fist pounding encouragement from David. Seeing who could go the fastest for the longest—it would’ve been funny if I wasn’t preoccupied.

  DING. DING.

  On the dot, signalling the end of an hour.

  A final huff on each arm before I set the weights down.

  “That’s it guys, good work!” David yelled over the music, clapping.

  “I’m out.” I shouted, picking up the perspiration from my arms with a hand towel. “Bye.” I grabbed my racket and water bottle by the door.

  They were too busy shouting in Spanish, arguing with David over who’d done the most. I’d probably done more and worked up a better sweat than either of them. If the underground gym was closer, I’d have been there—but I was waiting for my one-on-one.

  “Assholes,” I let out as the heat hit me.

  I was also waiting for someone to appear.

  Little Harvey. Smiling away as he walked, swinging his racket with a little kick in his step. He almost looked impressed with himself, even if he didn’t appear to have broken the slightest sweat.

  “Oi,” I called out.

  Paused in his tracks.

  “Jord—” he began, his face dropping the smug smile. “They’re waiting for the you on the court. You should—”

  “You’re avoiding me,” I said, standing in his path.

  His gaze dropped. “No.”

  “Are you sure you’re not avoiding me?” He was definitely avoiding me. “Is this because of last night? Is this because you fancy me?”

  “Think you’re the one who fancies me, actually.” Glancing at me beneath his dipped head

  I raised my racket and pressed it against his chest. “You wish. You got up early, and then ran around the compound all day so you wouldn’t see me.” I couldn’t help but smile as I wondered if he’d perhaps already seen too much of me. “I guess I can’t be surprised you’re looking down there—I mean—”

  He looked up, pressure pushing back against the racket from his chest. “I can’t train with you anymore.”

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s ok, you don’t have to apologise.”

  I pressed the racket harder. “No. What do you mean?”

  “I—I—”

  “I thought you wanted to be a better player?”

  “I can’t, I don’t think it’s good for us to be in the same room and train together—and stuff.”

  “Stuff?” I questioned, what other stuff did he have in mind—assuming he was thinking of something else and not making a random third point to seem like it was a done deal.

  Nodding, looking away as he sidestepped, my racket fell loose by my waist.

  “Sorry.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ll pay you.”

  And he paused.

  That was his spot. Of course it was—Charity Case had a spot, and I’d pressed it.

  “I said I can’t.”

  “So you’ll ignore me then?”

  He looked me in the eye and shook his head. “How much?”

  There was more room for agreeability when the question was ‘how much?’ instead of ‘I don’t want your money’. Usually, my answer would be ‘anything you want’, but Charity Case had nothing. This was the power I was used to having—even after everyone else refused to train with me, I still had sway over someone else.

  “Five hundred a day,” I said.

  He appeared to chew on the decision, I wasn’t going higher—I knew he needed the money.

  “Just to play matches?”

  “And training,” I said, “unless you had something else in mind.”

  His nose scrunched at the comment. “You’re disgusting,” he said. “I don’t fancy you, even if you paid me more—I still wouldn’t fancy you.”

  “Ouch,” I let back in a cackle. “I knew gays were sassy, but damn, you’re finding your little voice with all these jabs, aren’t you?”

  He blushed in the sunlight, walking off, his shoulders unhunching.

  I headed to the court where Harvey had been, not feeling any better about the situation. He was the one perving on me, not the other way around. I should’ve been the one refusing to train with him—but then who would I train with?

  With my racket and water bottle in hand, I continued through the open gate, ready to be verbally reamed about my form and whatever else Pedro could throw in.

  Centre court, standing beside Pedro.

  Bastard. />
  It was Nico.

  His son.

  A large smile on his face.

  Of all people—and the one I’d sworn it wasn’t. He was my least favourite member of the Sebastian family. Nicolas Sebastian, king of the cocky smile; lip upturned, crooked to the right of his face like he’d been slapped by a shovel.

  9. HARVEY

  A brief glance at my phone before pushing it into my pocket, I’d been talking to my dad. He said I was relentless with all the texts I’d sent; asking me when was I actually getting any training done. He phoned me and I’d dropped everything to answer—but it was just to ask how I was doing, even though I could sense it in his voice, there was something—

  “Harv!” Sasha called after me, waving me over. Headed to the dining hall, it had been lunch for about ten minutes.

  “I’m late,” I let out with a grumble from the back of my throat. “I can’t believe I missed the rush, now I’m—”

  “I got you a plate,” she cut me off, nodding to the second plate beside hers. “Where were you at? Oh my god, your one-on-one,” she patted her hand on the seat.

  “I can’t believe you’re friends with him,” I let out, looking at the mountain of food prepared on the plate without any function of aesthetics. “Not like you do mixed doubles, but have you played him before?”

  Sasha let out another groan. “Nico’s a bit of a dick actually, but it was nice to see him, and I’m sure everyone swanning around him this morning during breakfast didn’t help,” she chuckled. “I’ve seen him practice, and his coach is probably one of the scariest guys I’ve ever met.”

  “He seemed fine when he was talking to me,” I said. Nico was a little older than me, but he’d done what I was planning on doing. “Why doesn’t his dad coach him?”

  “Oh,” she snorted back, swotting a hand at my arm, “that’s a whole thing, probably don’t want to gossip around everyone else, but it was between him, his parents, and a trip to hospital—and Jordan was somewhere in there too.”