Page 24 of The Coach

As I followed Finn off the bus, heading back to the dorms, I couldn’t help the small, secret grin that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Because even if we had to keep this thing hidden, even if it wasn’t perfect or simple or easy, it was ours. And for now, that was enough.

16. Blake

The next two weeks were a blur of practices, matches, and long, grueling hours in the gym. The team was in good spirits after the Gettysburg trip, though Tyler’s loss had left a bruise on his pride. He hid it well, but I could still see it. He pushed himself harder in practice, his determination burning bright, and I found myself watching him more than I should, my focus slipping in ways I couldn’t afford.

I tried to maintain some distance, to keep my focus on the team as a whole, but it was impossible not to notice Tyler. The way he moved, the quiet confidence that had grown in him over the past few weeks, the way his eyes would find mine during drills, holding my gaze for just a second too long.

We were careful, both of us hyper-aware of the need for discretion. Our moments together were stolen between the cracks of the day—late afternoons in my office, early mornings before anyone else arrived. Tyler would slip in with that quiet, knowing smile, and for a few precious hours, it was just the two of us, the world outside forgotten.

The first time we had sex after Gettysburg, it was in the storage room behind the gym. The space was cramped, the air thick with the smell of sweat and chalk. None of it mattered when he slid to his knees and took me into his mouth, his lips soft and warm around me. I couldn’t help but grab his head and fuck his throat with abandon. He gagged on my cock, unable to take it all the way down, but unwilling to give in. There was a hunger in him that matched my own, a quiet desperation that made my balls ache with desire. I had never come so fast, spilling into his throat, and he swallowed every last drop, licking my cock clean before tucking me back into my briefs. We didn’t have enough time for me to fuck him, but he was content, cumming over the floor just from sucking me.

Once awakened, my libido came back with a vengeance. I couldn’t keep my hands off Tyler, and when we were apart, I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking him. It was like I was trying to compensate for all the lost time, for these past three years when my only solace had been my own hand. I was horny 24/7, and the meresight of Tyler was enough to make my cock start leaking, my hunger for him overpowering, irrefutable.

“I hate sneaking around,” he murmured one day, his breath warm against my neck as we lay tangled together on the narrow couch in my office. “You know I, uh, I have this fantasy…”

“Go on,” I prompted him, squeezing his butt when he got shy.

“We’re at practice in the gym, and I ask you to show me a certain move—”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know—it doesn’t matter. Anyway, you start to explain the move and we begin to wrestle. But the friction gets us both hard so the wrestling becomes a frottage. All the guys are looking, standing around us, but we still don’t stop—wecan’tstop—until I come inside my singlet in front of everyone.”

“Mmmm,” I rumbled against his lips, my fingers sliding into his crack to massage his hole. “You’re a bit of an exhibitionist, aren’t you?”

He squirmed under my touch, pushing his ass to meet my fingers. “It just… it turns me on so much when you take charge. I’d love everyone to see that I’m yours. No more hiding.”

Damn, the idea was really turning me on. And his admittance of liking my dominant side and beingminedid something to my insides I couldn’t quite describe. It was like my heart was doing backflips in my chest. Ithought about it for some time, my fingers gliding up his spine and tracing lazy patterns on his back. Then I said, “Come by my house later. I’ll text you the address. We’ll have the whole evening to ourselves. And then you can tell me more about your fantasies.”

“For real?” he said, lifting his head to look at me, his eyes sparkling with something I struggled to recognize. Happiness, maybe.

“Yeah. For real.”

When he smiled and kissed me, I was sure. Itwashappiness. I’ve simply forgotten what that looks like. But that night, when he first came to my house and I spent hours breeding his ass in every position we could think of, I began to remember.

* * *

“Coach,” Jared called one afternoon, pulling me out of my thoughts. “What’s the deal with this butt drag? I can’t get the angle right.”

I crossed the mat to demonstrate the move on him, but then I got another idea. “Davidson, get over here.”

Tyler was on the other side of the room, practicing sprawls with Finn, his movements sharp and precise. As soon as he heard me calling him, he jogged toward me, his buddy following behind. “Yes, Coach?”

“Get down on the mat,” I said, looking him in the eye. “On your hands and knees.”

His mouth opened a little, like a silent sigh escaped from his lips. His eyes widened just a fraction, his cheeks blushed, but he followed my command without a word. And looking at him like that—kneeling before me, doggy style, his singlet stretched tight across his butt—sent a current straight to my cock. It reminded me of all those times Tyler knelt in that same position in my bed, ready for a pounding. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

Too late to back out now, though. Jared and Finn were both observing, and some of the other boys joined them, curious to see the technique.

I crouched beside Tyler, my hands steady as I adjusted his stance. “The objective of a butt drag is to off-balance your opponent, allowing you to gain control, secure a takedown, or set up a dominant position on the ground. So, this is what you want to do,” I said, glancing at the guys standing around. “Begin by controlling your opponent’s upper body to prevent him from countering or escaping. What I like to do to set this up is a cross-face cradle.” My right hand coiled around Tyler’s neck, my body pushing into his from the side. “Then, identify the leg you want to drag. Usually, this is the leg closest to you or the one that your opponent is leading with.” My left hand went between Tyler’s legs, brushing over his balls. I took the chance to slide my palm over his dick before I grabbed his upper thigh. “Now, you have to grip your opponent’s leg and apply pressure tooff-balance him. Hold on to him, maybe even lift him up a little, and then take him down.”

My moves followed my words, and as I pushed into Tyler, my hand slipped from his thigh to his butt, as it often happens during this tactic. And while I tried to hold on to his glute for leverage, my fingers slid into his crack. It took all the willpower I had not to grope him in front of everyone, as I pushed him until he hit the mat and I pinned him down with my body. When my crotch made contact with his ass, I felt him pushing back into me, almost an instinct, and my cock started to stiffen. Shit.

I pulled back, kneeling on the mat and studying the faces around me. Almost the entire team was now gathered to watch my and Tyler’s demonstration. I forced myself to focus, to push the distraction to the back of my mind, but I knew it was a losing battle. “Once you have successfully executed the move,” I said, my breath quicker, “transition to a takedown, gain control of your opponent’s back, or work toward a pin or submission to capitalize on the advantage. All clear?”

Most of the boys nodded or murmured their assent, though some still looked at me with skepticism. Derek was the first to voice his concerns.

“But what if we grab someone’s junk by accident?”

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