Page 26 of The Coach

“Mm. Come to think of it, theyhavebeen acting nicer than usual.”

We both chuckled, heat simmering in our eyes.

We spent the evening on the couch, the food forgotten after the first few bites as we pounced on each other like wolves. It was a hunger unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, my lust for him breaking every restraint I’ve ever imposed on myself. It wasn’t just passion—it was obsession. I felt like I might’ve died if I didn’t get to eat his ass, then breed it, slamming my cock into his hole until I made him cum. He always came hands-free, impaled on my shaft, chanting my name between grunts and moans loud enough to echo throughout the house.

Afterward, we talked, our words spilling out in the quiet comfort of each other’s company. He told me about his classes, his plans for the future, the way wrestling had shaped him in ways he was only just beginning to understand. And I listened, my heart full, enjoying the rare chance of just being with him without the weight of the world pressing down on us. I fucked him again later, the hunger in both of us ever-present.

“Hey, do you want to hear something kind of gross?” Tyler asked, gathering his clothes from the bedroom floor, a shy grin playing on his lips.

I was wearing only a pair of socks, leaning on the doorframe and watching him getting dressed. “What?” I said, uncertain but still curious.

“Do you remember that day when I ran into you in the locker room, after everyone else was already gone? I was stepping out of the shower, and you were getting out of your office, just about to leave?”

How could I forget? It was the day I caught him masturbating in the showers, the day that changed everything. “Yes. I remember.”

He pulled on his pants, smiling to himself. “I found your briefs on the floor and I took them with me.”

“Oh?” The thought has never occurred to me. I always presumed some of the cleaning staff have found them and threw them away.

“Yeah. I jerked off so many times sniffing them, or rubbing them over my face and body. I still have them. But they’re kind of crusty now, if you know what I mean.”

I laughed, but my cock chubbed up a little. Jesus, this boy was driving me wild. I pulled him into my arms, his clothes soft against my naked body. “You can keep them.”

When he kissed me and left for the night, I let myself breathe for the first time in weeks, the quiet hum of contentment settling over me. I slept better than I’ve slept in years.

17. Tyler

Blake came down with a cold, but he still held practice every day, not allowing his illness to slow him down. If any of the guys hoped for a little reprieve, they were sorely disappointed. He was as tough and unrelenting as always, but I didn’t mind. Annoyed as I was at him for not taking a break, I was glad to spend as much time with him as I could. I knew he would never ask for help, so I went to his place after classes, bringing a secret weapon.

Blake looked pitiful when he opened the door, his hair a mess and his nose red like he’d been stuck in a windstorm. He was wearing a ragged T-shirt and pajama pants, his trouser snake bulging under the flimsy gray fabric. I bet he was freeballing. It took some effort, but I tore my gaze away from his crotch and looked him over. His illness did nothing to diminish his sexiness. He leanedon the doorframe, blinking at me with bloodshot eyes as though I’d come to sell him a timeshare instead of soup and comfort.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was a croak, even deeper than usual, rough like sandpaper.

I held up the bag, the smell of chicken soup escaping through its loosely tied knot. “Special delivery. One life-saving elixir, guaranteed to fix even the crankiest wrestling coach.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, sniffling. “I might infect you.”

“I took my vitamins. Now move over and let me take care of you.”

Blake groaned and stepped aside to let me in, muttering something under his breath about insubordination. His place was dimly lit, the blinds drawn, the coffee table cluttered with a sea of tissues and two half-empty mugs.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” I said, kicking off my shoes and heading toward the kitchen. “Figured you were either dead or too stubborn to admit you needed some assistance.”

“I’m not helpless,” he called after me, though the effort to sound indignant fell flat under the weight of his rasping cough.

“Sure, and I’m the next Olympic gold medalist,” I shot back, rummaging through his cabinets for a bowl. “Go lie down and I’ll be right over.”

“What’s with the bossy attitude?” Blake grumbled as he shuffled back to the couch, collapsing into it with a weary sigh. He was a large, heavily built man, but he looked smaller like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by exhaustion. Vulnerable in a way that made me want to snuggle next to him and cuddle him like a baby. A very big, very manly baby.

By the time I brought him the soup, he was half-dozing, his head lolling to the side. I nudged his arm gently, and he blinked up at me, his lips twitching into something that might have been a smile.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here, you know,” he said, sitting up and taking the bowl from me. His fingers brushed mine and the warmth of his fevered skin sent a shiver up my spine.

“I know,” I replied, settling into the space between his legs. “But you’d do the same for me. Plus, I needed an excuse to skip out on studying.”

“Ah,” Blake said, a hoarse, crackling sound that somehow still managed to warm the room. “Always the altruist.” When I sank to my knees before him and reached up for the waistband of his pajama pants, his eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“I’m providing a full service. You just sit there, eat, and relax. Let me work my magic.”

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