Power Position (Langston Iron: Raw #5)

Chapter One

The first rays of Sunday morning filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kevin Johnson's Buckhead condominium, casting long strips of gold across the hardwood floor.

Atlanta's skyline stretched beyond the glass, still quiet before the city fully woke.

From twenty-three floors up, the streets looked almost peaceful, hiding the noise, ambition, and secrets that would soon fill them.

Raw stood barefoot in the kitchen wearing nothing but gray athletic shorts.

He leaned against the marble island while coffee brewed, the rich aroma filling the open space.

Kevin's place was everything his own condo wasn't. It was polished.

Modern. Every piece of furniture looked intentionally selected. Nothing sat out of place.

Raw preferred places that looked lived in.

Kevin preferred places that looked successful.

Neither man had ever tried changing the other.

A pair of arms slipped around Raw's waist from behind.

"You've got a habit of stealing my coffee before I wake up."

Raw smiled without turning around.

"You've got expensive taste. Somebody has to make sure it isn't wasted."

Kevin rested his chin against Raw's shoulder. His reflection appeared beside Raw's in the dark microwave door. Tall, athletic, clean-cut, Kevin carried himself more like an executive than a gym operator. His navy lounge pants hung low on his hips, and sleep still lingered in his eyes.

"You staying for breakfast?"

Raw shook his head.

"First clients start before nine."

"You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

Kevin laughed softly before turning Raw around to face him. Their familiarity was unmistakable. There was no awkwardness. No uncertainty. They had settled into the rhythm that only came from years of finding each other when life allowed and stepping back when it didn't.

Kevin reached up, brushing his thumb across Raw's jaw.

"I missed this."

"You saw me two weeks ago."

"I said I missed it."

Raw smiled again. Kevin had a way of making simple words sound more meaningful than they probably were.

Their conversation faded as the city outside continued waking. Raw pulled Kevin in closer to him and began sucking on the man’s neck, a move he knew would accomplish his goal.

“You know that’s my spot, you keep doing that and I’ll need some morning dick.” Kevin teased. Raw said nothing but continued his assault on Kevin’s neck as the man gave him full access accompanied by low moans.

After what seemed like a few minutes, Raw turned Kevin away from him to face the kitchen island where he swiftly braced himself. Raw lowered the man’s boxer briefs to reveal a thick ass built more by nature than training in the gym and was a noticeable contrast to the slim waist where it rested.

“I woke up hungry for this ass.” Raw admitted as his now hard dick made its way against the opening of Kevin’s asshole.

Still remembering the night before, the hole welcomed Raw’s return inside without a lot of resistance.

Raw closed his eyes and leaned back his head as he slid inside of the warm, welcoming tunnel.

“This dick is always on point.” Kevin noted as he grinded his ass back into Raw’s pelvis taking in as much of the huge dick as he could management. The more Raw grinded on his prostate, still swollen from the night before, the creamier he felt and sounded.

“Fuck nigga! It’s like this shit was made for my dick.” Raw acknowledged as he sped up pace. His eyes were now focused on his girthy dick sliding in and out of Kevins ass as his moisture dripped out with each stroke.

“Keep fucking me like that Raw. Don’t stop until you bust.” Kevin demanded with his legs spread and arms anchored across the table barely able to make out their reflections in the nearby floor to ceiling window.

Raw slammed in and out of Kevin and soon felt the man’s booty hole tightening around his dick.

Without touching himself, Kevin shot ropes of nut into the island cabinets. Raw let out a loud moan as he orgasmed inside of the twitching fleshy hole and collapsed onto Kevin’s body

When they eventually separated, Kevin collected himself and made his way to grab paper towels to clean up the mess he made.

"You are working today?" Raw asked.

"Unfortunately."

"I thought you had Sundays off in gym corporate life"

Kevin shook his head.

"Ownership's been acting strange for months. Closed door meetings. Financial reviews. People flying in from Charlotte, Birmingham, Jacksonville. Nobody tells us much."

"You worried?"

Kevin shrugged.

"I've survived three ownership changes in this business."

"You still trying to convince me management is better than training?"

"The paycheck helps."

Raw chuckled.

"I'll stick with my clients."

Kevin studied him for a second.

"You've never really cared about titles."

"No."

"But you'd be good at them."

Raw dismissed the compliment with a wave.

"I like helping people."

"I know."

"Let me hit the shower before I head to Langston Iron." Raw said as he exited the room.

Forty minutes later, Raw pulled into Langston Iron.

Sunday mornings were different.

No evening crowd.

No pounding music.

Just enough members chasing discipline before church, family brunches, or another week of excuses.

The familiar smell of rubber flooring, disinfectant, and iron greeted him the moment he stepped inside.

Home.

Several members nodded as he crossed the floor.

One stopped him near the dumbbell racks.

"Morning, Raw."

"Morning, Marcus."

"You still training me Tuesday?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Another member waved from a treadmill.

An older woman called his name simply to tell him she'd lost another six pounds.

Raw celebrated with her as though she'd won a championship.

That was what people remembered.

Not workouts.

How they felt afterward.

He had barely reached the trainer's office when a deep voice interrupted him.

"You've got five minutes?"

Raw turned.

Malik Langston stood near the entrance dressed in black athletic joggers and a fitted charcoal T-shirt beneath a lightweight bomber jacket. His presence drew attention without demanding it. Members greeted him respectfully as they passed, yet he acknowledged each one with the same calm nod.

He looked more like someone arriving for a board meeting than a workout.

"Didn't know you were coming in today," Raw said.

"I didn't either."

Raw laughed.

"So what changed?"

Malik glanced around the gym.

"I wanted to see the place before Monday."

Raw frowned.

"You make that sound important."

"Everything's important eventually."

They walked slowly toward the office overlooking the main floor.

Malik never seemed rushed.

It was one of the few things about him that occasionally unsettled Raw.

Most executives filled silence by talking.

Malik filled silence by thinking.

Once inside the office, Raw leaned against his desk.

"So what's going on?"

Malik ignored the question.

Instead, he looked through the glass toward the members training below.

"You've built something good here."

Raw corrected him.

"Calvin built this."

Malik smiled faintly.

"My father built the building."

He looked directly at Raw.

"You built the culture."

The compliment landed differently coming from Malik.

He rarely offered praise unless he meant every word.

Raw shrugged.

"I just try to take care of people."

"I know."

Another pause settled between them.

Then Malik finally asked,

"You still seeing Kevin Johnson?"

Raw blinked.

"Every now and then."

"You happy?"

Raw laughed.

"Didn't know you were checking on my dating life."

"I'm checking on you."

Raw tilted his head.

"Difference?"

"There's always a difference."

Before Raw could respond, Malik reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and placed a plain white envelope on the desk.

Raw looked down.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Inside was a cashier's check.

Five thousand dollars.

Raw stared at it before looking back up.

"I think you handed this to the wrong person."

"I didn't."

"What is it for?"

"A consulting retainer."

Raw frowned.

"I haven't consulted on anything."

"You will."

"I didn't agree to that."

"You will."

Raw laughed again.

"There you go answering questions nobody asked."

Malik's expression never changed.

"I'd like your opinion on a few things over the next several weeks."

"What kind of things?"

"Gyms."

Raw folded the check back into the envelope.

"You know my opinion."

"I know part of it."

Malik pushed the envelope back toward him.

"Keep it."

Raw slid it across the desk again.

"I'm not taking money until I know what you're asking me to do."

For the first time that morning, Malik smiled.

It wasn't a smile of disappointment.

It looked almost like satisfaction.

"I thought you'd say that."

He stood.

"I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"Everything?"

"As much as you need."

Malik started toward the office door before stopping.

Without turning around, he asked one final question.

"When was the last time you visited Peach State Fitness?"

Raw thought for a moment.

"A couple months, maybe."

"You should stop by this week."

"To see Kevin?"

"If that's your reason."

Then Malik walked out. Malik was only about 5 years older than Raw but as the gym owner’s son, and company executive, his actions often seem a generation ahead of his age.

Raw remained standing in the office, staring at the envelope still resting on his desk.

Outside the glass walls, members laughed, weights clanged against rubber flooring, and another ordinary Sunday continued without interruption.

For the first time all morning, it no longer felt ordinary.