by T A. McKay
I shake my head violently as I listen to the thoughts going through my mind. What the fuck’s going on? I'm not looking at some sexy woman here. This is my new coach, my new male coach. My reaction to him is freaking me out but I only have a few seconds to try to work out what’s happening before Coach and Bryce walk over to me.
“Zeke, let me introduce you to your new coach. This is Bryce Tanner.” I note that he emphasizes the words ‘new coach’ and his message isn’t lost on me. He's already spoken to me this morning about giving Bryce a chance and I promised not to be my usual asshole self, but that’s the best I could offer him. I reach out to take the hand that Bryce has offered to be polite. When my skin connects with his an electric current sparks from his hand to mine. It feels like static electricity and it makes me pull my hand away instantly. I look down expecting to see my skin red and marked, but there’s nothing there. I finally meet Bryce’s eyes and see a look of confusion that mirrors my own.
It takes us both a few seconds to recover and it’s Bryce that manages it first. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Zeke.” I’m shocked when I hear his voice, I was not expecting the English accent that comes out. He sounds like Daniel Craig and the effect it has on me is a little startling. I know I need to speak but my mind has stopped working and my words are stuck in my throat. I’m well aware that I’m standing here like an idiot just staring at the man in front of me.
“Why the fuck do you have wraps on? I thought I told you there would be no training until Bryce gave you the all clear?”
I look at Coach, grateful for him saving me, but pissed that he’s breaking the silence by ripping me a new one. I see the corner of Bryce’s mouth curl up and it takes everything in me not to punch him, to show them how well my hand works.
“Yeah you did, but I decided that maybe I knew more than the new guy.” The smartass answer flies out of my mouth without a thought, but I figure the sooner Bryce knows I'm not a pushover the better. He might be here to help me get back to full fitness, but that’s all he’ll have control over.
“Well the new guy says that if you hit that bag before I check your hand, you will be on a week’s suspension. That means no cage, no workouts, no gym time.”
What the fuck? I just stand and stare at Bryce feeling like my ass has been handed to me. No way he just tried to lay down the law, he's only been here two fucking minutes.
I'm pulled from my staring contest when Coach lets out a hearty laugh. I look over to him to see that he’s looking between both of us with an amused expression on his face.
“Well looks like you boys will get on just great so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” With those parting words he walks away with his shoulders still shaking with laughter.
Fucker.
I turn back to Bryce and give him my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ death stare, trying to let him know that I won’t take any shit. I need him to know that I'm actually the boss, and he's just here to make sure I have everything I need.
“I need you to remove the wraps. I'm going to grab my bag and get changed, have them off by the time I get back.” And with that he walks away leaving me standing there open mouthed as he exits the building. I’m still standing there when he returns a few minutes later with a gym bag over his shoulder. I'm shocked with his dismissal but I'm even more surprised when I find myself removing the wraps.
I walk into the locker room and rush over to the open locker that Eddie said would be there for me. I drop my bag to the ground before I collapse onto the wooden bench in the middle of the room and lean my head in my hands. The introduction to Zeke hadn’t gone anything like I imagined. When I’d been offered this job I had taken time to get to know the man that the public see. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy placement and that I was going to have to fight for control, but when I saw the man I’d be training all that vanished from my head. My mouth went dry as I took in all his muscles and tattoos, but it’s his eyes that took my breath away. Those eyes are something I will never forget. Like bright green beacons and in complete contrast to his almost black hair. It took all my control to look away and when we shook hands I swear it felt like someone had just handed me a live wire. The feeling of his skin against mine was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Shit.
When I moved to America to take this job, I’d decided that I wouldn’t hook up with anyone because I needed to give this once in a lifetime opportunity my full attention. I couldn’t risk the fact that I'm gay getting out, not that I'm ashamed, far from it in fact. I just know how people in this profession think, and the fact that I like guys could be a big problem. I refuse to lie about who I am, but if they didn’t see me with anyone then I wouldn’t need to talk about my preferences. It was a great plan and one that I had thought long and hard about, and it would have worked great apart from him. Apparently Zeke Raine is going to be a temptation I don’t need. I just need to remember one thing: the guy isn’t gay.
I take a deep breath and stand up, grabbing my workout shorts and vest from the bag at my feet, and get dressed as quickly as possible. I’ve been in here too long and I don’t want to start our working relationship with him thinking I don’t take it seriously. This is the job I’ve been waiting my life for and have moved to another country for so I can’t do something to fuck it up. I throw my clothes in the locker, pick up my water bottle and I stretch my back before walking out of the changing room.
I need to be strong. I need to be professional. I need to be nothing but his coach.
That thought is wiped from my brain along with the breath in my lungs when I see Zeke on the running machine. He’s removed his wraps like I told him to but he’s also removed his t-shirt, giving me the perfect view of what he’d been hiding before. My body is toned and I'm proud of the way I look and it takes a lot of hard work, but I swear he makes me look like I sit on my arse all day. I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat on him and he looks like he's been carved from marble by the Gods. I shake my head and laugh. Could I sound any more like a teenage girl? I tear my eyes away from Zeke’s glistening skin, pretending that I don’t want to lick the sweat from his abs. I need to talk to him. I’m pretty sure I won’t be as attracted to him when I listen to him speak. From the little interaction we’ve had I can tell he's a dick and that’s not a quality I find attractive. Once I get my head on board, I'm pretty sure my body will follow.
“Glad to see you’re warming up, but I want to check out your hand.” I call out to him and wave him over to me but he just glares at me and continues to run. Yeah, definitely a dick. I throw my water bottle onto the stack of towels that rests on the weight bench and cross my arms over my chest, determined to wait him out. I need to assert some authority so he knows I'm not going to give into him like his last coach did. I'm here to work and I know how to do my job. The sooner he realizes this the better, he won’t be chasing me off like the long list of people before me.
He must finally understand that I'm not going to give into him because he reaches out to slow the treadmill. His eyes never leave mine and I know we’re entered into a pissing contest now and one that neither of us wants to lose. He stops the machine completely, jumps off and walks over to stand in front of me, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his skin on his way. I try to focus on the fact that I must have been in the locker room longer than I thought for him to build up a sweat like that and not the fact that he smells better than anyone else I’ve ever met. There is nothing sexier than a guy who’s worked up a sweat, and with Zeke, his own smell and whatever aftershave he's wearing is not helping the situation in my shorts. Yes, that’s right. This annoying, headstrong guy is causing my incredibly underused dick to harden in my shorts, my extremely thin workout shorts that wouldn’t hide anything under them. Not good, not good at all. I sit on the weight bench, putting some much needed distance between us to hide the bulge in my shorts, and hold out my hand to him.
“Let me see your hand. I’ve read over your
notes but tell me in your own words what happened.” I think we’re going to have another standoff because he doesn’t immediately move or acknowledge that I’ve spoken but I'm soon proven wrong as he walks over to me and holds out his injured hand.
“It’s simple. I had a really shitty coach and he made a mistake. That mistake caused me my championship and almost my career.” I look up at him taking in the anger in his eyes. No wonder he has a problem with me being here, he was let down by the one person who should have his back at all times. I know the story, but it was only secondhand information. I wanted to hear it from Zeke, to get his account of the events and gauge his responses. It’s the best way to find out how he thinks, about how he sees what happened in the cage. Once I understand his mind I’ll be able to train him. I take his hand and knead my fingers into the back of it, feeling for any trauma that might still be present.
“And your injury?” Again I’ve read the doctors report but I want him to tell me in his own words.
“Three fractured bones caused by lack of wrist support. I hit the other guy and his face didn’t come off as bad as my hand. Shame really. I probably would have gotten away without too much damage to my hand, but I then punched the fucker that caused this and that was the source of the real damage.”
I continue to press over his hand, looking for areas of tenderness but there aren’t any. I think it’s healed well and quicker than the ones I’d seen in my previous experience. “Does it cause you any pain now? Like when you hold or grab anything?” I feel proud that I’m managing to keep this completely professional, especially when I’m eye level with his worship worthy abs.
“No pain. I just want to get back to fighting, I have a fight coming up and I need to be better than fit for it. You, apparently, are the only one who can clear me for that.” I can hear the venom in his tone and I know that it must be difficult for a guy like him to have someone else in control of his career, especially after the last coach he had.
I grab the wraps he left sitting next to his towel and get him ready to train. He watches me for a few seconds in silence but I know he's dying to talk. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he tries to stay quiet.
Soon enough he breaks his silence. “Are we on?”
I look up at him again and nod. I'm thankful that I'm looking at him when a smile finally crosses his face. That simple act completely changes him, his eyes sparkle and I notice a dimple in his right cheek. Note to self, don’t make the hot guy smile.
“I will let you spar with me after I work out your fitness level. I'm not going to let you go full throttle until I know it’s completely healed, and I can’t judge that after ten minutes and a couple of prods. I understand your frustration but damaging it further isn’t going to help anyone. I'm here to do a job, one that I'm bloody good at, and that job is to make you a champion. Let me do what I came here to do and we will get on just fine.”
If I'm not mistaken a look of respect crosses his features but it disappears so quickly that I can’t be sure it was ever there. “Let’s get this party started then.” That’s all he says before he walks over to the ring, leans down and enters between the ropes.
I watch him bounce on his feet and I'm impressed. For a guy that I’ve been assured hasn’t fought for the last few months, he hasn’t lost any of his grace. That’s usually the first thing to go when fighters get hurt, they start to look a bit wobbly when they get back into the ring, like a toddler trying to take their first steps. Not Zeke though, he looks like he hasn’t missed a day of training, he’s light on his feet and fully in control. It’s one of the things that I admired about his fighting when I had studied him on the flight over. He moves likes he's a featherweight fighter, but he's built like a heavyweight. That makes for an explosive combination in the ring and I can’t wait to see what he can actually do.
I pick up the focus pads and put them on after climbing into the ring. Zeke’s eyes are trained on me as I slowly circle him.
“I want you to hit the pads when I present them. The only rule is that you’re not allowed to use your right hand. Feet, legs or your left hand … all allowed, but if you use your right hand at all, I will tie it behind your back.”
Zeke raises his eyebrows at me and I can’t help the flush that spreads through my body as I imagine Zeke tied up. That is the last thing I should be thinking about now. I'm risking a hard on of epic proportions with no way to hide it. To keep Zeke’s attention away from my crotch, I quickly raise a pad up so my arm is out above my shoulder. Within seconds Zeke spins and hits it with his foot. His range of motion is impressive and leads to more thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
After making him chase pads until he's sweating I pick up a kick pad to find out how much power he really has.
“I want you to kick this as hard as you can.”
His eyes light up as he looks at the pad. His chest is heaving up and down, sweat dripping down his hard muscles to the waistband of his shorts. I try not to focus on his body but it’s like showing a kid an ice cream and telling them they can’t have it. I open my stance as I stand behind the mat, making sure I'm fully braced and protected. If I'm not steady I might end up on my arse. I focus my eyes back to Zeke’s body as he moves around in front of me, trying to keep my thoughts on his movements, working out how he's going to attack. I can see the buildup and I know it’s coming but Eddie appears behind Zeke and shouts my name at the wrong moment. I take my eye off Zeke for a fraction of a second and that’s all it takes. I feel his foot connect with the soft material that’s meant to protect me and I feel my feet leave the ground already aware that my landing isn’t going to be graceful. I land on my back and air is pushed from my chest, leaving me lying on the floor gasping for breath.
“Shit!” I hear Zeke shouting before the pad is pulled from my arms and he leans over me on his knees. If I wasn’t in so much pain right now I would take the time to enjoy this moment and the picturesque view of a sexy man above me. Okay apparently I'm not as hurt as I thought.
“Are you okay? I'm sorry, I thought you were ready.”
I try to laugh but I'm still struggling to fill my lungs with oxygen. “Did you get the reg number of the lorry that just hit me?”
Zeke’s deep laughter flows over me and the hairs on my body stand on end. It’s official, I need to make sure I never make Zeke smile or laugh. The affects on me are too much and I will never be able to hide the attraction I can feel building.
“I think there’s something wrong with you, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
This time I manage to laugh. When I first arrived I noticed that people had a problem comprehending some of the things I said, and most of the time now I remember to use words they understand.
“Don’t worry about it. It takes more than a kick to scramble my brain.”
I get another smile from Zeke before he stands up and bends over to help me up. I grab his offered hand and he pulls me up until I'm standing. There is a current flowing from his skin to mine, and when our eyes connect I can’t seem to look away. I realize that our hands are still touching and we pull apart quickly when Eddie shouts at me, asking if I'm okay. I nod my head and smile at him before walking over to see what he wants. I focus on him and try not to think about the heat that has spread all over my body since touching Zeke’s hand.
Chapter 4
I groan as the hot water from the shower beats against my aching muscles. When I first started training with Bryce this morning, I wasn’t convinced that it was going to do anything for me, but even I have to admit that my body is telling me that I’ve been worked hard. I lean my head to the side and feel a very satisfying crack. I’ve missed this, the deep down ache you feel after you’ve worked your body so hard. It’s like a drug for me and when I couldn’t have it I wasn’t the nicest person to be around.
I look up when I hear the shower next to me start and see Bryce running his hands through his hair, and while he's distracted, I take the chance t
o look him over. His body is as built as some of the guys that I fight against, his muscles tight and well defined. His abs look like they’ve been cut from steel and I feel envious of his amazing eight pack. I’ve tried since I started fighting to get that elusive eight pack, but I’ve never managed it. I try to convince myself that’s why I'm still looking at his body, I'm admiring his dedication to fitness and that it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I can’t look away from him. My dick is unfortunately enjoying what it sees and I can feel myself start to harden. I turn away quickly in embarrassment even though there are half walls that separate the showers to hide me. I think about Asha, about her lush body, what it feels like when it’s wrapped around my dick and that fantastic mouth that would bring any man to his knees. With those thoughts running through my head I reach down and rub along my now very obvious hard on, but I feel better now that I can tell myself that it’s all for Asha. I need to make myself believe this, if I can’t then I will have to think about why my body is reacting to the very naked man next to me. I would need to think about why when he's near me my mind goes fuzzy and I find myself thinking about things I shouldn’t. Some of those thoughts being how amazing his lips look when he's focusing on my posture, or how his muscles flex when he moves. No I won’t think about that, I’ll think about Asha. Try to convince myself she’s the sole reason I'm so hard right now.
“How’s your hand?”
I look down to my right hand that’s stroking my cock and let go quickly. I glance over at Bryce to see if he noticed what I was doing but he's washing his hair, so there is no way he could have seen anything. The timing of the question was just coincidental and actually very innocent, it’s just my mind that’s making it something it wasn’t.