Page 17 of Body Check

He found Dakota already in his studio, the overhead lights off, a mellow rose-gold glow from a few salt lamps around the room lighting the space. Gentle instrumental music played in the background and Gavin chuckled to himself as he thought about how much Dakota would probably hate his high-intensity training under the bright lights in his condo’s workout room.

Gavin hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching Dakota as he flowed through some sort of yoga sequence, his movements sinuous and graceful.

Dakota had his eyes closed, his expression peaceful as he lowered to his stomach and lifted his torso, going into a deep backbend. It made his back arch, exposing his throat, his head tipped back, chin pointed at the ceiling.

Gavin knew he should be impressed by Dakota’s strength and flexibility, and he was, but his mind kept sticking on the thought:damn, that’s hot.

He gently rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said.

Dakota tipped his chin down, opening his eyes and smiling. He looked incredibly peaceful. “You’re not interrupting. I was expecting you.”

“Well, here I am,” Gavin said inanely, kicking off his shoes and putting them on the mat. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” Dakota took his time getting out of the pose he’d been in, then gracefully rose to his feet. They were bare and made soft sounds on the mats below him as he padded over to stand in front of Gavin.

He wore snug leggings and a loose, wrapped shirt that twisted and turned around his body in a way that made Gavin idly wonder how he didn’t get tangled up trying to take it off or put it on.

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes.” Gavin scratched the back of his neck. “I think so. What exactly are we doing?”

“Are you able to commit to a full thirty to forty minutes with me?”

“Yes.”

“And just to verify, you’ve spoken to a doctor about this situation? You’ve ruled out migraines or any other serious health conditions?”

“Yes,” Gavin assured him.

Everyone had been wary after the news broke a couple of years ago that Nico Arents’ chronic headaches had actually been dueto a non-cancerous brain tumor. Thankfully, he was doing fine and skating circles around half the league now. But Gavin had been a whole lot less dismissive about his headaches since then.

“No migraines, no tumors. My blood pressure and cholesterol were a little high at my last checkup, but I promise, this neck and head thing is nothing but good old stress and tension,” he assured Dakota.

“Then we’re going to begin by working on your feet.”

“My feet?” Gavin glanced down at his socked feet. “Really? Not my neck?”

“No. Your posterior chain is fucked.”

Gavin let out a surprised laugh at the profanity. “I assure you,” he said drily. “Myposterior—chain or otherwise—does not get fucked.”

Dakota rolled his eyes. “Well, now Iknowyou’re a top. That comes as no surprise, but?—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin protested, cutting him off.

“It means you have big d—uh, big dude energy that made it abundantly clear you like to be in charge.”

Gavin smothered a laugh. Oh, oh that washilarious.

Until the comment about the hookup apps the other night, some part of Gavin had expected Dakota to be a little uptight. Prissy, even. And maybe Gavin had been testing him a little, however unintentionally, to see how he’d respond. But it turned out he was funnier, and a lot less tightly wound than expected.

Even if he clearly wasn’t comfortable using the worddick.

Which, Gavin supposed was the smart choice. If someone walked by and overheard their conversation it would seem incredibly inappropriate. It didn’tfeelinappropriate but he could see how it might come across that way without context.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Mybig dude energyis not above taking some direction from someone else.”

A skeptical look gleamed in Dakota’s eyes and Gavin amended his statement. “At least about fixing my posterior chain issues. Especially since you’re the expert here.”

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