Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Reece
My stomach churned as I walked through the front door of Leviathan Fitness. I was on edge about seeing Cyrus, about being around him, and was acting like I wasn’t having all of these absurd dreams about him.
I felt bad for canceling our coffee date the other day, but there was no way I could sit across from him and make small talk.
Oh, hey, Cyrus! Nice tentacles you’ve got there. Wanna shove them up my ass?
There was definitely chemistry between us, or at least I thought there was, but I’d never had these kinds of romantic feelings for someone. It terrified the fuck out of me.
And I wasn’t even sure if Cyrus was actually into me.
He could just be messing with me.
Gods, if I was rejected by the first person I pursued a romantic relationship with, I don’t think my ego could handle it.
I stopped in front of the pool room and took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down before I stepped through the doorway.
As usual, Cyrus was already there, his smooth body gliding gracefully beneath the surface of the water. He didn’t seem to notice me, so I slipped into the locker room as fast as I could.
Fuck, he looked good when he swam, the lengths of his tentacles rippling as they propelled him through the water.
“Motherfucker,” I grumbled as I struggled to pull my jammers over my now semi-erect cock. The things were already tight as fuck, but when you were packing what I was, it was about a thousand times more difficult.
I could already tell today was going to go poorly.
There was no way I could keep doing this to myself.
Sure, I wanted to place well in the triathlon, but this was about more than that.
This entire thing with Cyrus was forcing me to examine things about myself that I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle.
There was also the fact that he was my sister’s mate’s best friend.
Tegan would flip her ever-loving shit if I made a move on Cyrus.
I’d have to tell Cyrus I didn’t need his help anymore.
After practice today, I’d come up with some excuse and try to end things as painlessly as I could.
When I returned to the pool deck, Cyrus was floating on his back in the center of the pool.
“Hey there,” he said as I approached the edge. “Feeling well rested today?” With ease, he spun forward so that he was facing me and gave me a bright smile.
“Sort of.” I rubbed the back of my neck and shifted my gaze from Cyrus. “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.”
“Hmm.” Cyrus nodded. “Well, I guess we’re going to have to train harder.” He smirked and jetted over to where I was standing. “I thought today I’d watch you from the bottom of the pool. Really get a sense of how your form has progressed and what we can do to improve it. Sound good?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “If you think it’ll help.” At least with him in the water, I wouldn’t be subjected to that fucking whistle.
Cyrus tilted his head, his wide eyes narrowing slightly. “Is something bothering you?”
Gods, he was a perceptive fucker.
“Nope.” I jumped into the pool, coating Cyrus with a spray of water.
“You’re such a wanker,” he said the moment my head broke the surface.
“No point in denying it.”
Cyrus dove underwater and I stared as his parachute fanned out beneath me.
Laps. Up and back. Focus on form. He spoke to me in my head, his sultry British accent spreading warmth throughout my body. I could already feel my cock straining against my jammers, but if Cyrus noticed, he didn’t comment.
How in the fuck was I supposed to focus like this?
I got into position and took a few deep breaths to get my mind straight, but before I could even kick off the wall, Cyrus chimed in my head again.
Are you training or taking an afternoon dip? We don’t have all day.
What the fuck was his deal today? Was he upset with me about the whole coffee thing? This was even more of a reason to call this whole thing off.
Whether he was teasing or serious, I channeled my annoyance into productivity, pushing off from the wall as hard as I could. My body slid through the water, and before I lost momentum, I started to make big strokes with my arms and gently kick my feet.
There was so much to focus on. Was my core activated and my body taut? Were my hands and arms in the correct position? Were my hips aligned with my body? And of course I had to breathe.
All things considered, I felt like I was doing well as I closed in on the opposite end of the pool. Much better than I was before I started working with Cyrus.
Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
Your legs are sinking, I heard Cyrus say telepathically. Straighten up.
On my swim back to the other end, I lowered my head like he taught me, hoping that would fix the problem.
Stop. Stop. Stop! he shouted. His words pounded into my skull, making me panic mid-stroke.
I choked on water, coughing from the burn of the salt. Cyrus shot out of the water next to me, his bumpy brows pinched together in a scowl.
“How are you not getting this?” he asked. He sounded as frustrated as I felt. “These are basic principles. Did you even watch the videos I sent you?”
My chest felt tight, and not from water inhalation. The way he was chastising me reminded me of my dad. I couldn’t tell if I was hurt that Cyrus was acting that way or if it pissed me off. From the sinking feeling in my stomach, I think it was the former.
Once I could finally speak, I rasped, “Of course I did.”
“Good. Now get into position and do it again!” he snapped, then disappeared beneath the surface.
—
For two hours, I was subjected to Cyrus’s scrutiny. Over and over, he’d chime into my brain and chastise me on my form, my lack of focus, et cetera, until I decided I’d had enough.
It was too real for me. Too much of a reminder of the things I’d endured during Little League, my high school lacrosse games, and when I first started working under my father at the Parks Department.
Without a word, I swam over to the side of the pool, climbed the ladder, and headed straight for the locker room without even offering Cyrus a glance.
“What was that, Rollins?” Cyrus asked as he burst through the door of the locker room. “It’s like everything we’ve been working on went right out the window.”
I whipped around to face him and held my arms out. “What’s with you, Cyrus? You were riding my fucking ass the entire session.”
He shuffled closer, rising up onto the tips of his tentacles so he stood slightly taller than me. The normal light blue-green tone of his skin had been replaced by a deep blue, almost black color.
“I was riding your ass because you were acting like you don’t even want this,” he hissed through sharp, clenched teeth.
I stepped into his space so we were chest to chest, my breath coming out as labored pants. “You don’t know shit about what I want.”
“Then why don’t you fucking show me?” Cyrus snarled, and one of his tentacles darted out to smack the locker right next to my head.
I glared at him, my heart racing as a confusing mixture of adrenaline and arousal coursed through my body.
Cyrus was scary when he was angry, but he was also sort of hot.
Was I really going to do this?
The answer was a resounding yes.
I lurched forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and slammed my mouth against his so hard, our teeth clacked.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and parted his lips, letting my tongue slip inside without hesitation. Like he’d been waiting for this.
Generally, I didn’t kiss. That was a part of my whole casual touch thing, but this? This wasn’t kissing. This was hot, heady desire stoked by his lips on mine and the possessive strokes of his tongues.
Cyrus pinned me against the lockers, the cool metal stinging my exposed back as he pushed his hips against mine. His tentacles wrapped around my legs, spreading them apart while his hands explored my body. He was everywhere. Hands and tongues and tentacles, touching me in ways I’d only dreamt of.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked through frenzied kisses, thrusting his hips into my already hard cock. “Is this why you couldn’t focus?”
“Yes. Holy gods, yes,” I moaned as Cyrus kissed his way down my collarbone.
The party. The tension. The dreams.
So much had led up to this moment between us. A moment that a month ago would have seemed like an impossibility.
But there we were—kissing, touching, and dry-humping each other like we couldn’t get enough.
“Tell me.” Cyrus broke our kiss to stare at me. His cheeks were flushed dark blue and his chest heaved against mine with each word he spoke. It was comforting to know he was just as affected by this as I was. “Tell me where you want to go with this, Reece.”
I’d never felt as vulnerable as I felt at that moment, so exposed.
“I want you to fuck me.” My voice was a barely there whisper. But it was loud enough for Cyrus to hear.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he gritted out before slamming his mouth to mine again. Those twin tongues stroked against mine possessively, more of a claiming than a kiss. “Where?” he asked, and gripped my cock through my jammers.
“Ahhh.” I groaned against his lips and he laughed. “The shower stall?”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled.
Before I knew what was happening, Cyrus was carrying me, the muscular lengths of his tentacles supporting our combined weight and shuffling us toward the stall without breaking our kiss.
“Holy fuck!” I tightened my grip on his neck.
I knew he was strong, but I didn’t think he was that strong.
“You like that, Rollins?” he asked as his tentacles slammed the door to the shower stall open and we stumbled inside.
“Yes,” I hummed, kissing his face and neck, putting my lips on any part of him I could reach. “So fucking hot.”
There was something about Cyrus’s presence that comforted me. With him, I wasn’t concerned with being the best. I could just be.
“How are we doing this?” I rasped.
In all honesty, I had no fucking idea about kraken anatomy. I mean, I’d had those dreams, but for all I knew, Cyrus could be packing a monster cock under that parachute.