Giving Up the Fight - Faith Ryan

by Rock Hard Gym

  Borrow something of mine.

  God, could I have sounded anymore pathetic? And that doesn’t even include my rambling tour.

  Fuck, it’s gonna be a long six months.

  Chapter 3

  Lennox

  Tanner isn’t back by the time I’m finished showering. I look ridiculous in his sweats, they look more like tights the way they hug my muscles. At least I was able to get them on. The T-shirt was a no go. Even if I somehow had managed to pull it on, I would have ripped out every seam.

  I take in the boring bedroom and curse Max again. This is not going to be a fun six months.

  Sighing, I head to the bed Tanner said would be mine for the entirety of my stay in hell and lay down, trying to get comfortable.

  The bed is small for a man of my size, my feet hanging off the end and my shoulders within an inch of the bed’s edge on both sides. I punch the pillow a few times trying to fluff it a bit, then turn on my side and stare across the room toward Tanner’s bed and the window.

  I’m not really seeing anything, and my brain is finally shutting down for the day. My eyes get heavy and close of their own accord, pulling me into a dream state.

  I wake a few hours later dripping in a cold sweat. My muscles are stiff from the minuscule bed and the room is dark. A silver of moonlight reaches across Tanner’s bed highlighting his body as he shifts in his sleep. He’s shirtless and the sheet covering him is bunched at his waist, leaving me to imagine he is fully nude.

  I stifle a groan and adjust my lengthening cock, sitting up in the bed. I need a fucking drink, so I decide to explore while my babysitter is sleeping, since I never got the full tour before passing out.

  A few wrong turns and I eventually find the kitchen. A thorough search of the room confirms there is no alcohol. But this is a house full of recovered and recovering alcoholics, so I know there is a bottle stashed somewhere, I just have to find it.

  I leave the kitchen and go to the common room I passed earlier. This would be the perfect hiding place, in plain sight and all that.

  Twenty minutes later I concede there is no alcohol to be found, which really sucks because my skin is beginning to itch. Only two things can stop the itch once it starts: alcohol and sex.

  I swipe a hand over my face and head back to my room. I silently slip inside and then stand there staring at Tanner’s bed. The sheet has slipped even lower and I can see his perfect bubble of an ass incased in his briefs.

  Fuck me, what I wouldn’t give to get my hands on that.

  The thought startles me out of my ogling. I really need to take care of this itch before I do something I shouldn’t, like maul my new roommate slash babysitter.

  With no alcohol to numb the feeling and no chance of sex, I decide to take care of myself and hope it calms me enough to at least go back to sleep.

  I make my way across the room and into the bathroom, being as quite as possible. As soon as the door closes behind me, I push my borrowed sweats down my thighs and take my dick in hand.

  I stroke up and down my length in slow languid strokes, twisting around the head on each pass and smearing the drops of precum over my cock to ease the glide of my hand.

  I’m hard, but this just isn’t doing it for me. I usually need the touch of someone else to get me there. I let out a frustrated groan and reach to pull my sweats back up. I stop when my gaze catches on the door leading back into the bedroom. I must not have closed it all the way in my rush to get off because it’s cracked just enough to see in the room.

  Tanner’s sheet looks like it has been kicked off and hangs over the edge of his bed, half on the floor. He’s rolled onto his back and the silver light caresses his bare chest. There’s a glint when he moves, and I notice his nipples are pierced.

  Now I’m groaning for a whole different reason, and I bite my lip to keep quiet.

  I leave my sweats where they are and grip my cock once again. This time while my hand slides over the silken flesh my eyes are on Tanner.

  He’s asleep, but he must be dreaming of something good, judging from the way his body is reacting. His nipples harden, lifting the barbells that run through them just off his skin, leaving a space where I would love to dip my tongue right before sucking the metal into my mouth.

  I move my gaze lower and my breath catches in my throat. His cock is hard, straining the fabric of his briefs. I groan again, this time a little louder than before and when I do, his cock twitches as if it liked the sound.

  I bite my lip and glance at his face to be sure he’s still asleep. His features are still relaxed, and his eyelids are closed, his lashes laying along the tops of his cheekbones.

  I speed up my strokes, hurrying so I’m not caught staring and jacking myself at the sight of another man. My breaths are rapid puffs of air and my chest rises and falls in time to each inhale and exhale.

  I’m already on the edge, ready to tumble over, when Tanner’s hand reaches into his briefs and gives a few tugs, before settling back at his side. And that’s all it takes. I free fall into the best orgasm of my life so far.

  I come back to myself a few minutes later. My hand is covered in cum and my mouth tastes of blood where I bit my lip to avoid crying out.

  I check to make sure Tanner is still sleeping and then hurriedly clean myself, before climbing back into bed. I expect to be awake for a while longer, but my body is satiated, and I fall right to sleep.

  The next time I wake the sun is blinding me with its brightness and Tanner is nowhere to be seen. Yawning, I stretch out in the small bed before hopping up and walking to the bathroom.

  I take care of business and wash my hands. When I turn toward the door to exit, I remember last night. I can feel the flush that is spreading from my cheeks and down my neck. My cock thinks it’s time for round two and begins to perk up. My brain supplying images of barbell piercings and lean muscles.

  I’m just about to say fuck it and climb in the shower to take care of the situation when the door leading to the hall opens and Tanner walks in carrying two mugs of coffee.

  “Good morning. I brought you coffee and breakfast will be ready in five. I told Pete to make extra since you didn’t eat dinner last night.”

  “Oh shit, sorry man. I must have been exhausted, I passed right out. I don’t even remember you coming in for the night.”

  Tanner blushes at the words and I wonder what that’s about.

  “Anyway, Max said someone will be dropping your things off in about an hour. I bet you’ll be glad to have your own clothes.”

  I shrug. I’ve kind of grown to like wearing Tanner’s tight sweats and might find a way to keep them.

  “Okay, well,” he shoves one of the mugs into my hand, “Let’s go eat.”

  I follow behind him, watching the way his ass moves under the denim he’s wearing.

  When we enter the kitchen, Pete is standing at the stovetop frying bacon. The smell of deliciousness, because let’s face it, bacon is synonymous with the word, assaults my nose and causes my stomach to growl.

  Pete glances over his shoulder at me and smiles. “Good morning Lennox. How did you two get on last night? All good?”

  It takes me a minute to realize he isn’t talking about my late-night wank session while Tanner slept.

  “Uh, good, I guess. I fell asleep early.”

  Tanner laughs, telling Pete, “We had words in the car, but he’s right. We got along well since snoring was the only communication he was doing.”

  I glare at the back of his head. I guess I really made an impression yesterday, and not a good one. I tell myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me anyway, Tanner West is just my babysitter until I can prove to Max I am still worthy of being part of his team.

  Besides, I’m not gay. Last night was just me scratching an itch the only way I could. It’s not like I fucked him. Hell, I didn’t even touch him.

  Chapter 4

  Tanner

  My laughter sounds fake even to my own ears, but I need to think of Lenn
ox as the obnoxious asshole he is, and nothing more. Getting close to a sponsee is not a good idea. I should know; been there, done that. Got the t-shirt to prove it.

  I look back at Lennox to see him glaring down at the table top. The man is wound so tight it’s only a matter of time before he combusts. And when he does, he’s going to take casualties with him. I can’t afford to be one of them. I’ll do my job as his sponsor, but that’s it.

  “Oh, Tanner, can I see you in my office for a few minutes after breakfast?” Pete gives me what is his serious look. Which means he squints his eyes and scrunches his face. I always think he looks more constipated than anything else, but I hold in my laughter at that thought and give him a nod.

  We eat in silence. Well, Lennox and I eat in silence. Pete tries to get the both of us to engage him in conversation but all he gets is some grunts from Lennox and a few nods from me.

  I watch Lennox stuff the last piece of bacon in his mouth, then lick the grease from his fingers. He doesn’t consciously try to make it sexual, but my dick takes it that way and perks up. I shift around on my chair a few times to find a position that is both comfortable and able to hide the tent growing in my restrictive jeans.

  After he finishes giving his fingers a tongue bath, he just sits there staring at the table again. He’s not glaring this time, but he looks so lost I want to pull him onto my lap and tell him it will all be okay.

  That thought causes a scowl to cross my face. He doesn’t need someone to coddle him, he needs someone to kick his ass. Lennox Caldwell is a spoiled asshole and I will not think of him as anything else, no matter how innocent he appears with that lost expression on his face.

  There’s a knock on the front door and both Lennox and I jerk at the sound.

  “I got it.” I tell Pete, and all but run to the door.

  I pull the door open to a young brunette standing with a suitcase on each side of her and a duffle bag slung across a shoulder.

  “Fuck me, you’re hot! Is Lennox here? Shit, of course he is. The fucker wouldn’t dare go against King Douche Canoe. Can you tell the shithead I’m here?” The girl obviously knows Lennox very well and is fond of showing her affection with name calling, if the smile gracing her face is any indication.

  “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

  “Fuck! Sorry, I’m Calla. Max sent me with Lennox’s shit.” She gestures at the suitcases and the duffle.

  “Okay, can you wait here for just a second? I’ll go get him.”

  I leave her standing on the porch and head back to the kitchen.

  “Hey Pete, Max sent someone with Lennox’s things.”

  “Great. Let’s go check the bags.” Pete says as he puts his plate in the sink.

  We’re halfway to the front door before Lennox asks, “Check the bags? What the fuck for? Max isn’t going to smuggle me in a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.”

  “This is a rehab center, there are rules, and everyone has to follow them. Even you.” I tell him and watch as the glare from earlier makes another appearance. It quickly disappears when we reach the open door. A real genuine smile spreading across his face at the sight of the girl.

  “Calla!” He calls her name and opens his arms. She squeals and runs into them and a wave of white-hot jealousy burns through my veins at the sight.

  “How you doing, Punk? Giving Max and Parker hell I hope.” Lennox asks her, releasing her from the bear hug.

  She shrugs and a blush creeps over her face. She quickly covers it up with a feigned scowl. “I can handle anything Max dishes out. And Parker and I are just friends.” The eye roll she gives after that statement is a little over the top.

  “Calla. Stay away from him. Trust me, you don’t want to ruin your friendship.”

  “You fucking sound just like Layla and Max. I can make my own damn decisions. I’m not a fucking kid, even if all you assholes want to treat me like one. Yeah, I’m young; but Lenny, I’m a lot more mature than other girls my age. You should know.”

  I choose to ignore the thousand butterflies somersaulting through my belly at the implications her words bring to my mind.

  “Yeah, well we just want what’s best for you Calla. And Parker is not what’s best for you.” Lennox tells her.

  Her phones beeps and she glances at it then smiles. “Yeah, whatever Lenny. Just fucking get better, okay?” And with that she flounces to her car, waving her middle finger out the window when she drives off.

  “Lenny?” I ask.

  “Nope. You don’t get to call me that. Only those who have earned it get to call me Lenny. You can call me Lennox.”

  I shake off the hurt feeling his words cause. I don’t want to call him Lenny anyway. He’s my sponsee, not my friend or anything else. Lennox is who he is and who he will always be to me.

  “Bags are all good to go.” Pete tells Lennox.

  “Thank fuck.” He swings the duffle over his shoulder and grabs both suitcases in one hand. “I need a shower and my own clothes.”

  I watch him walk down the hall and into our room. Then I turn to Pete. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “In my office.” I follow him to a door on the other side of the house from the bedrooms. He motions for me to enter first and then closes the door behind us.

  “What’s going on, Pete?” This must be serious. Pete has an open-door policy he takes very seriously, and extremely literal. He never closes his door.

  “Christian’s lawyer got him a lighter sentence than we expected.”

  My hands clench into fists at his words.

  “What did they give him?”

  “Ninety days rehabilitation.”

  I swallow hard, trying to get the next words out without losing it. “Where?”

  “I’m sorry, Tanner. But the judge made the decision. He’ll be here day after tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  I say the words with no emotion and walk numbly back to my room. I shut the door behind me and fall face first onto my bed, burying my head in my pillow. Then I scream. I scream over and over until my throat is hoarse and my screams turn into sobs, my tears dampening the pillow.

  Chapter 5

  Lennox

  I step from the shower, steam billowing out after me. I dry myself quickly and then slide on a pair of blue gym shorts that hang loosely off my hips. I pick up the black t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, but I don’t put it on yet. Instead I stare at my reflection. Spending the night in a jail cell, then being shuffled to AA and rehab hasn’t left me much time for grooming. The scruff on my face is evidence of all the changes happening in my life.

  I rub a hand over my jaw and feel the prickly whiskers scratch my palm. I debate picking up my razor but decide against it. I’m supposed to become a new man. No better way to change who you are than to change your appearance. Maybe if I don’t see the same worthless face every day, I can survive this hell.

  Decision made, I slip my shirt over my head and open the door back into what will be my bedroom for the next few months. The steam cloud follows me from the bathroom just as it did when I left the shower, and for a few seconds I can’t see anything until it dissipates. I might not be able to see, but I can hear the muffled sobs.

  Stepping farther into the room, I wave a hand to help dispel the blinding fog and see a shaking lump on Tanner’s bed. This rehab business must be making my brain slow because it takes me a minute to make the connection between the sobs and the shuddering form.

  Shit. What do I do?

  I start to take a step toward the bed when Tanner starts punching his pillow. The same pillow his head is still buried in. I’m amazed he can keep his fist from knocking his own skull. The violence behind the action is more worrisome than the threat of injury to his head, though. Taking a deep breath in, I steel myself to intervene in this tantrum, or whatever the hell it is.

  I walk to the edge of his bed and grab his fist when it raises again, preventing him from landing another punch.

  “What t
he fuck? Let me go!” Tanner spews the words at me as though they are acid and jerks his hand out of mine. He moves up the bed until his back is against the headboard.

  I raise both palms, facing forward, and step back. “Whoa. Calm down, man. I was just trying to prevent you from knocking yourself out.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at me, just stares at his clenching and unclenching fists, which are now in his lap.

  “Are you okay? I know something that might help.”

  “Fuck off. I don’t need any sympathy or girly talk. Just leave me alone.”

  His words are like venom and he doesn’t sound like the Tanner I’ve known for the past thirty hours or so since we met. Something happened, and while I don’t do mushy girly talk, as he called it, I do know how to release pent up emotions. There are usually three options when I need this kind of release and my go-tos, alcohol and sex, aren’t available at the rehab center.

  “Is there a gym room here?” Putting Tanner through a vigorous workout should help not just Tanner, but myself as well.

  “What?” He looks confused. Probably his frustration clouding his mind and not allowing him to follow the conversation. Happens to me when I let my anger takeover, that’s how I know what he needs.

  “A gym area? You can help me keep up my routine. I need someone to throw punches at me and you looked like you knew what you were doing with the pillow.”

  He stares at me for a beat or two, his icy stare causing me to shiver under his gaze. I get another flash of recognition like I saw the first time we met, but before I can grab onto that thread of thought he gets up from the bed.

  “Yeah, okay. We have a small gym here, nothing like what you’re used to I’m sure, but it should do the trick.”

  “Great, lead the way.”

  Three hours later, I’m pouring sweat and nowhere near being relaxed like I should be. For some reason I’ve focused on every move Tanner’s made. His legs as he ran on the treadmill. His arms as he hit the punching bag. Even his goddamn chest when he took off his shirt twenty minutes into our session. I can’t focus when I’m around him.