Chapter 18
Standing O-vation
Gavin
The trainer, Kelly, is thorough as hell. She works on my thigh for a solid twenty minutes, her strong hands finding every knot and tension point while she lectures me about overextension and proper warm-ups.
Most of the football team does other sports or training during the off-season, so we have trainers available year-round. It's a big perk to come to PCU over other universities; they really take care of their athletes.
Each time she hits a particularly tight spot, I have to bite back a grunt. The woman doesn't mess around.
"You're carrying stress in your hip flexors too," she mutters, digging her elbow into a spot that makes me see stars. "When's the last time you did a proper cool-down routine?"
"Uh..." I try to think. "Tuesday?"
"Tuesday." She shakes her head as if I've personally offended her. "No wonder you're tight as a drum. Your body's not a machine, Robins. You can't just run it into the ground and expect it to keep performing."
By the time she's finally done working me over, the training facility has mostly cleared out. A few guys are just leaving the locker room, their voices echoing off the walls, but pretty much everyone has already headed out.
"Ice when you get home," Kelly orders, packing up her massage oil and towels with military efficiency. "Twenty minutes on, twenty off. And do those stretches I showed you, the hip flexor ones and the IT band work."
"Yes, ma'am." I sit up on the table, testing how the leg feels. Better. Not perfect, but definitely better.
"And tell that boyfriend of yours to make sure you actually do them." She gives me a knowing look as she stuffs supplies into her kit. "Saw him mother-henning you from the stands after the meet.
My face heats up like someone just cranked the thermostat to ninety. "He's just—"
"Adorable? Completely smitten? Yeah, I noticed." She shoulders her bag and heads for the door. "Take care of yourself, Robins. And next time, stretch properly before you try to show off for the cute medical student."
She's gone before I can sputter out a protest, leaving me sitting there with my face still burning and my brain stuck on 'completely smitten.' Because that's what Doc looked like from the field? Smitten?
Who uses words like 'smitten' anymore?
I'm still trying to wrap my head around that, trying to decide if Kelly's just messing with me or if she actually saw something I missed, when I hear tentative footsteps echoing from the hallway.
"Gavin? You still here?"
"Yeah!" I call out, grabbing my towel. "Just about to shower."
Doc appears around the corner just as I'm dropping my compression shorts. He makes a sound like he's been punched.
"For the love of everything holy! Warn a guy!"
I laugh, not bothering to cover up. "It's a locker room, babe. Nudity happens."
"That's not—you can't just—" He's looking at the ceiling, face flaming. "Where's your towel?"
"Right here." I wrap it loosely around my waist. "Better?"
"Marginally."
"You sure? Because you're still red." I step closer. "What’s wrong?"
"You know what's wrong." His voice drops. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Maybe." Another step. He backs up against the lockers. "Is it working?"
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"No," he agrees quietly. "I really don't."
The air between us shifts. The empty locker room suddenly feels smaller, more intimate.
"Is it weird now?" Doc asks, still not quite looking at me. "Being in locker rooms? Now that you're... You know…. ummm…"
"Attracted to guys?" I finish. "Nah. Only interested in one guy."
"Yeah?"
Instead of answering, I step into his space, hands finding his hips. He makes that punched-out sound again, but leans into me.
"This okay?" I murmur against his ear.
"We should—someone could—"
"Everyone's gone." I pull him closer, feeling him shiver. "Just us."
He turns his head, catching my mouth in a kiss that goes from sweet to desperate in seconds. I press him harder against the lockers, loving how he arches into me.
"Shower," he gasps between kisses. "More private."
"Yeah? You coming in with me?"
His eyes go dark. "Yeah."
Holy fuck. I grab his hand and practically drag him to the stalls. He's laughing, breathless, pulling at his shirt.
"Eager much?"
"You've been teasing me all day." He yanks his shirt off. "That damn uniform. Do you know what you look like?"
"Tell me."
"Like every wet dream I've ever had." His hands are shaking as he works on his jeans. "It's practically obscene."
I back into one of the shower stalls, letting my towel drop. His eyes go wide, then wider, tracking down my body and freezing.
"Holy shit!"
"What’s wrong?" Playing innocent, but I'm already half-hard from kissing, and his eyes aren't helping.
"That's—" He swallows hard. "My god, Gavin."
"What?"
"You know what!" His voice cracks a little. "That's not fucking fair."
I glance down at myself, preening a bit. Yeah, I know I'm bigger than average. Locker rooms teach you that real quick. But seeing Doc's reaction, the medical student who's probably studied anatomy diagrams for hours, looking at me like I'm breaking some medical rule…
That's doing things to my ego.
"Come here," I say again, letting my voice drop.
"You're—" He's still staring. "From an anatomical standpoint, that's genuinely impressive."
"Doc."
"Like, statistically speaking—"
"Seb."
"The proportions are—"
"Sebastian."
He finally looks up when I use his full name. "I'm just saying, the textbooks didn't—"
"Babe. Less talking about textbooks. More getting naked."
"Right. Yes. Fuck." He practically tears at his clothes, still stealing glances. "This is going to be interesting."
"Good, interesting?"
"The best interesting." He stumbles out of his jeans. "Fuck, no wonder you're so confident."
I can't help laughing. "It's just a dick, Doc."
"That is not just anything." He's down to his boxers now. "That's a fucking weapon."
"You done freaking out about my anatomy?"
"I'm not freaking out. I'm appreciating. There's a difference." He drops his boxers, and my mouth goes dry because he's gorgeous too, smaller than me but perfect, already hard and leaking. "From a purely medical perspective—"
"Get over here before I drag you."
He stumbles out of his jeans and boxers, nearly falls trying to get his socks off. I catch him, laughing, and then we're skin to skin and holy shit.
"Fuck," I breathe. "You feel..."
"I know." He pulls me down for another kiss. "I know."
The tile is cold against my back, but Doc is fever-hot against my front. His hands are everywhere, my chest, my arms, skating down to my hips. I turn and pull the hot water on, and steam begins to rise around us.
"Up," he demands.
I lift him easily, his legs wrapping around my waist. The position lines us up perfectly, and we both groan.
"Did your googling teach you about frotting?" His voice is rough, breathless.
My whole body goes hot. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah."
"Good." He rocks against me experimentally. "Because I really want—oh god."
I shift my grip, pulling his hips tighter against mine. Our cocks slide together, and stars explode behind my eyes.
"Holy fuck. Doc, that's—"
"I know. I didn't know it could work standing up."
"It can with me." I thrust up, making him gasp. "I got you."
"Cocky bastard."
"You love it."
"Shut up and move."
We find a rhythm, messy and shaky at first, then harder as we learn what works for us. Doc's making these quiet sounds that are driving me absolutely insane, little gasps and sighs that go straight to my dick.
His fingers dig into my shoulders, finding purchase wherever they can as I rock against him. The water's hitting my back, steam is all around us now, but all I can focus on is the slide of skin on skin.
I can't shut up, apparently. Words just keep spilling out of me.
"Feel so good against me, Doc. Fuck, been thinking about this forever. You in my lap at that Valentine's party, the way you fit against me, I wanted to pull you closer then, wanted to feel you exactly like this. Been driving me crazy thinking about what you'd feel like, what you'd sound like..."
His breath hitches, and he rolls his hips just right, making us both groan.
"Your hands on me," I continue, voice getting rougher. "The way you're looking at me right now. Shit, right there, do that again."
He does, and stars explode behind my eyelids. The angle's perfect, the friction building between us until I'm seeing white around the edges.
"Gavin, fuck, I'm—" his voice cracks, desperate.
"Yeah, me too. So close, baby. Can feel you shaking."
He gets a hand between us, using our precome to stroke us together. The extra friction whites out my vision.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—"
"Shh," he laughs breathlessly. "Someone might—ah!—might hear."
"Don't care. Feels too—Jesus Christ, your hand—"
"Come now," he urges. "Let me see you."
That does it. I come so hard my knees buckle, only the wall keeping us upright. Doc follows seconds later, using our combined mess to work me through the aftershocks until I'm shaking.
"Too much," I gasp. "Fuck, sensitive."
He gentles his touch but doesn't let go. We're both panting, foreheads pressed together.
"So," he says finally. "That happened."
I laugh, still breathless. "Yeah. Fuck yeah it did."
"You're very... vocal."
"Shit. Was I too loud?"
"No." He kisses me softly. "It was perfect. You're perfect."
My chest goes tight with emotion. "Doc..."
"Shower," he says quickly, like he's embarrassed by what he said. "We're gross."
"Best kind of gross," I grin, but set him down carefully.
We actually shower, sharing soap and trading lazy kisses under the spray. He traces an old scar on my ribs, one of Dad's greatest hits, and I tell him about the football injury I blamed it on.
"I could kill them," he says quietly. "Your family. I could actually kill them."
"My scary pre-med boyfriend." I turn him around to wash his back. "What would you do, poison them?"
"No… Too traceable. Make it look like an accident. Or maybe just perform very detailed anatomical threats until they piss themselves."
"That's... weirdly hot."
"You're ridiculous." But he's smiling as he turns off the water. "Come on. Let's get dressed before someone actually does come in."
We towel off and dress quickly, still stealing glances at each other.
"So," I say as we head out. "That was okay? Not too fast?"
He stops, turns to face me fully. "Gavin. That was... I've wanted that for weeks. You're not pushing. If anything, I'm the one who jumped you in a public shower."
"You can jump me anytime."
"Noted." He reaches up, fixes my still-damp hair. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours. Ethan and Tyler were being very frisky when I left this morning. Doubt that's calmed down yet."
"Mine then." He takes my hand, casual as anything. "Come on. I'll make you dinner and properly examine that thigh strain."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"Behave."
But he's smiling as we walk to his car, and I'm thinking about his hands on my thigh, and yeah.
"Best track meet ever."