Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PERCY
Surprisingly, I manage to keep up with Butch.
Granted, he’s definitely not going at his full speed, but still, I haven’t even had coffee yet and if I’m honest, I’m still a little weak in the knees from not one, but two spectacular orgasms last night.
So keeping pace with quarter-speed Butch instead of keeling over on the sidewalk and simply letting myself die is definitely noteworthy.
Of course, it’s Butch, so he doesn’t just head straight for my building and make it easy on me.
“See, what did I tell you? This weather is perfect for a morning jog.” He’s all sunshine and optimism as we take the long way around Anderson park.
The morning sun shining through the red and orange leaves makes the trees look like they’re on fire, while a flock of geese honk at us from the grass on our way past. I hate to admit it, but the goose bumps on my skin are long gone, replaced by a thin sheen of sweat starting to form under my clothes.
“Okay, dude question that I’ve been too afraid to ask.” My lips twitch with a smile.
“Shoot,” Butch says easily.
“The ball chafing.” I groan. “I thought I’d gotten used to it as part of life with a scrotum, but when you add sweat and jogging into the mix, it’s a real problem.”
He barks out a laugh.
“Support is your best bet. A good jockstrap goes a long way. And for a long run like the half-marathon, you’ll definitely want an anti-chafing stick.”
“Noted.” I chuckle. “So, do you make all the guys you hook up with exercise the next morning, or is this special for me since I’m your pet project?
” I joke between my carefully controlled breaths, our footsteps falling into perfect rhythm with each other.
Without the speed and distance in big red numbers on a screen in front of me, it’s actually easier to find a steady, sustainable pace.
“Pet project?” He sounds borderline offended. “Where’d you get that idea, Rocky?”
“Uh…” Shit, now I feel dumb for making assumptions.
Maybe he invites tons of his personal training clients to go camping.
Maybe it’s a totally regular thing for him to sign up for a half-marathon to motivate the people he trains.
Hell, for all I know, he might be in the habit of having sex with his clients too.
“You’re my favorite client, not a project.
” He shoots me one of those big, toothy grins of his, then bumps his shoulder against mine and picks up his speed just a little as we round the corner and my apartment comes into view.
“And, no, I don’t usually make my hookups go for a morning jog with me.
But you got out of bed before I could talk you into my favorite form of morning cardio. ”
My skin heats another few degrees and sweat forms on the back of my neck. It’s a hell of a lot harder to remember the breathing techniques he taught me when my heart starts racing for reasons that have nothing to do with cardio. Butch shoots me a wink.
“We’ve got about seven hundred feet to go. Let’s give it everything we’ve got. Are you ready?”
“Fuck my life,” I mutter.
He chuckles, then takes off in a sprint.
Sure, I could let him go and just DoorDash my own fancy coffee, but that urge to take the easy way out, to let myself off the hook and not even try is gone almost as quickly as it came.
I ignore the way my lungs are already burning and the tightness creeping into my muscles, and with a string of Butch’s encouraging words echoing in my head, I sprint after him.
Our feet thunder against the sidewalk, my pulse pounds in my ears, and my vision narrows down to my goal, zeroing in on the stoop of my building getting closer and closer.
I’m actually going to make it. The realization that I did it, that I actually kept up with Butch and didn’t give up is downright euphoric.
A month ago, I couldn’t jog to the end of the block without seeing spots, and now look at me.
I slap my hand down on the rusty wrought iron railing and come to an abrupt stop.
“I did it,” I shout, spinning towards Butch. I feel so light, so giddy, so athletic.
“Hell yeah, you did.” He whoops and holds his arms open in a gesture I’ve started to recognize.
I laugh and chest bump him, slamming my chest into the brick wall of his, actually managing to keep my footing and not stumble backward with the force of it.
I glance at the door and then back at him.
I should tell him my coffee order, thank him for last night, and go upstairs.
I’m sure Juno’s home, and I really do need to buckle down and work on that paper this weekend.
Plus, if he comes up, there’s a chance he’ll want to actually talk about what happened last night, and I’m not ready to burst this happy bubble with any kind of reality just yet.
“Do you want to come up for a few minutes?” Clearly, my mouth is not on the same page as my brain. I lick my lips and huff another laugh. “So I can change out of Fender’s clothes and give them back to you.”
It might be my imagination, but I think Butch’s smile fades a fraction. It’s only for a second though, and then it’s back to full wattage.
“Sure. God knows Fender doesn’t have enough joggers and T-shirts, I’d hate for him to be missing these for a couple of days,” he says with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
I chuckle again and then grab my keys and unlock the door. The flight of stairs inside might as well be Mount Everest after that run. I stop at the foot of them and groan.
“What are the chances I could call the landlord right now on a Saturday morning and get them to move us to a ground floor apartment?”
“I’m thinking slim.”
I groan again. “Fuck.”
“As your trainer, I really shouldn’t let you off the hook here,” he says, shrugging the drawstring backpack off of his shoulders and holding it out to me. I eye it, trying to figure out what he’s getting at. When I don’t make a move to take it, he squats and points at his back. “Climb on.”
“You’re going to give me a piggyback ride up the stairs?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell any of my other clients.” He grins.
“Deal.” I scramble onto his back, locking my arms and legs around him.
I’m tempted to bury my face in the crook of his neck and run my tongue along the ropy tendons and muscles there, to taste the sweat on his skin to see what all the hype is about, to suck up a little bruise that would be impossible to hide.
He straightens up, and I gasp, abandoning my fantasy in favor of holding on for dear life as he sprints up the steps, letting out a little grunt when he lands on each one.
I always kind of suspected that his exercise noises might be the same as his sex noises, but now I can confirm.
And, fuck, how am I going to keep from getting turned on every time we work out together now?
I guess it’s a fair price to pay for last night.
He reaches the second-floor landing, breathing just a little heavier than he was a minute ago, and lets me down.
“I’ve always joked with Juno that we should start a petition to have an elevator installed in this building, but now I’m thinking we should pitch the idea to the landlord to have large, muscled men for hire to carry us up and down the stairs.
” I unlock the apartment door and Butch follows me inside.
It’s silent inside, but Juno has a habit of sleeping in, especially on the weekends. I glance around for any sign of their shoes and spot a note on the coffee table instead.
Percy,
I really hope you’re reading this Saturday morning and not Friday night. Bow-chika-bowwow. Met a cute lesbian couple who live in Evanston, so I probably won’t be home until late Saturday… maybe even Sunday morning if I’m lucky. Have a good weekend!
“Well, it looks like I’ll have plenty of peace and quiet around the apartment to work today.” I set the note back down and look up at Butch.
His expression smolders and he drags his eyes over my body.
“Is that so?” he asks gruffly.
My breath hitches and I nod.
BUTCH
We stare at each other silently for a long second, the air heavy between us. His eyes darken as his pupils get wider, and my heart thunders with self-restraint. I want to give him a chance to tell me to go, if that’s what he wants.
Don’t tell me to go.
I track a bead of sweat as it rolls down the side of his neck.
My mouth waters and my cock stiffens eagerly.
Percy runs his tongue along his bottom lip, leaving it damp and shiny, just begging to be sucked between my teeth.
His shirt is sweaty enough to cling to his body, and the hard nubs of his nipples are pressed against the fabric.
It feels like a fucking lifetime, but it’s only a heartbeat before he takes a step towards me, holding my gaze as he reaches down to grab the bottom of the T-shirt and pull it over his head.
His eyes still don’t leave mine as he holds the shirt out and drops it on the floor between us with a smirk on his face.
A challenge. An invitation. Like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
It only takes two long strides for me to close the gap between us and haul Percy into my arms. A breathy sound catches in his throat as he wraps his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck.
With daylight coming in through the living room windows, I can see the dusting of light-colored hair on his chest, a smattering of freckles on the left side of his collarbone, the faint scars under each of his pecs, and the barely there shadow of stubble on his jaw.
I carry him a couple more steps and press his back up against the nearest wall.
We’re going to need to talk about this at some point.
What it means, what he wants it to mean.
But that can wait until another day. Hell, it can wait until another week or another month as far as I’m concerned.
I’d much rather stay focused on the parts that don’t need words and avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.