Page 31 of The Coach

“I’m yours. Only yours.”

We both moaned as his cock pummeled my prostate, fucking the cum out of me. My orgasm made my hole clench in a series of spasms, milking the cum out of him. Our shouts echoed through the house as we came together, me shooting into his sheets, him spilling into me.

Panting, he collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. We were still joined, unmoving,gasping, our heartbeats thundering. His breath was warm against my neck, his body solid and protective, and I felt like I was falling and flying all at once.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, the sheets twisted around us, our breaths slowing in the quiet of the room. Blake’s fingers traced lazy circles on my stomach, his cum trickling out of my hole, and I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me.

“Stay the night,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

I’ve been here many times, shared his bed often, but this was the first time he asked me to stay. It was another step we hadn’t taken before. “Are you sure?” I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He let out a deep sigh, pulling me closer. “I’m sure.”

* * *

The next morning, we ate breakfast in bed, the fresh batch of pancakes and maple syrup stacked on the tray between us. The conversation was lighter, peppered with jokes and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken that made my chest tighten.

“Finn is getting suspicious,” I said finally, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “He knows I’m seeing someone. He was pressing me two days ago.” At least he was away, visiting his folks in Vermont for theholiday, which gave me more freedom to come and go as I pleased.

Blake’s eyes met mine, steady, serious. “Maybe you should tell him. I, uh, I told Mandy.”

“Wait,what?” I almost dropped my food. “Professor Richardsknowsabout us?”

“Well, no, not really. I’ve told her I was seeing someone—a guy—but she doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Oh.”

“She’s been very helpful these past two weeks. Helping me understand what I was going through. So, I don’t know, maybe it would be easier for you as well if… if you had someone to talk to.”

I considered the suggestion, mulling over the idea in my head. I mean, I did want to tell Finn everything. But considering his flair for dramatic, it could be dangerous, especially with him being on the team and all. Besides, Matt was there if I wanted someone to talk to, or even Chris, and both were much more discreet than Finn. “What if he finds out the truth?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He kept chewing for some time, his eyes never leaving mine. “We’ll figure it out.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet conviction in his tone, made my heart beat faster. I nodded, leaning in for a kiss between bites, and for the first time, I felt like everything might actually be okay.

20. Blake

December descended with a chill that settled deep in my bones, the kind that made the mornings in the gym sharper, harsher. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as the team pushed through drills, the air thick with the tang of sweat and determination. Matches were coming fast now, every weekend a new challenge, a new test. Sometimes I took my Ephs on trips across states, to different colleges; other times we hosted the competitions on our home turf at Williams. And amid it all, Tyler burned like a star in my orbit, impossible to ignore.

He moved across the mats with a grace that was almost maddening, his body taut and purposeful, every muscle honed by weeks of grueling work. His injury was a distant memory now, though I still caught myself watching him too closely, my chest tightening everytime he stumbled or winced. He was victorious every time now, winning every fight, destroying every opponent, like he had something to prove. He was relentless, his focus unyielding, and I both admired and resented it. It reminded me of the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this, and yet here I was, utterly incapable of stopping.

Our affair—it felt dangerous to even think the word—had become a rhythm I couldn’t quit. Late nights at my place, early mornings in my office, stolen moments in between matches when no one else was around. The need we had for each other was insatiable, a fire that burned hotter with each passing day.

“Blake,” he whispered one night, his voice a low rasp as we lay tangled together in my bed. His hand was on my chest, his fingers playing with my nipples in a way that made it impossible to think straight. “What happens after the semester?”

The question caught me off guard, piercing through the haze of exhaustion and desire. I looked at him, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I’d intended. “One step at a time.”

He nodded, though I could see the doubt flickering in his gaze. And I hated that I couldn’t give him more, that I couldn’t promise him a future that felt as sure as the present.

* **

The weeks flew by in a blur of bus rides and hotel rooms, of matches won and lost, of quiet moments stolen when no one was watching, and nights of secret passion. The team was thriving, their spirits high despite the grueling schedule, and I threw myself into my role, trying to keep my focus on them, on the job. Scott made it to Regionals, proving he was the best fighter on the team. He was already setting his sights on the nationals, the ambition burning hot inside him. But Tyler was giving him a run for his money, my chest swelling with unbound pride as I watched him fight. He was always there, a quiet gravity pulling at me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape him.

It was during one of our away matches, in a dimly lit hotel hallway, that the weight of it all hit me. Was I selfish to use him so I could feel better about myself? Was it wrong to keep him to myself, instead of letting him find a guy his age? Was I a pervert for sleeping with one of my students, a boy more than a decade younger than me? These thoughts pressed heavily upon me when Tyler came to my room, the team already in their beds, his knock soft but insistent. I let him in without a word, the tension between us thick and electric.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this,” I said, though my hands were already reaching for him, my resolve crumbling the second he stepped closer.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes holding mine with a quiet intensity that made it impossible to lie.

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