Page 3 of Jacked (Gymbos #1)

CHAPTER TWO

SLATER

I refuse to flinch as I wolf down extra spicy wings, even though my lips and tongue literally feel like I lit a match and shoved it into my mouth.

AJ pounds his fist on the bar, his face turning a light shade of pink as he swallows his own mouthful.

We both reach for our beers at the same time.

I chug what’s left in my glass to chase the burn, then gesture to the bartender for another round.

The bar is crowded enough that AJ and I are shoulder to shoulder, our legs bumping each other any time either of us shift on our barstools.

No big deal though. The place is air conditioned, at least, and the food and drinks aren’t half bad.

There’s nothing quite like the buzz of energy in a sports bar when the home team is winning.

Even if it’s not my team, I don’t mind joining in to cheer when a rookie player cranks a home run out of the park.

“We should go to a game,” AJ says, grabbing the last wing off the plate and tearing into it with his teeth, his tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of sauce that clings to his bottom lip.

My eyes are naturally drawn to the movement, and I shift in my seat, nodding along before my brain catches up with his suggestion.

“Oh, hell yeah,” I agree after a second, dragging my eyes back to the TV just in time to see the next batter strike out to end the inning.

The bartender sets another round of beers in front of us. I pick up my glass and swivel towards AJ, our knees bumping again.

“To new friendships.” He beats me to the toast.

I clink my glass to his and then take a generous gulp, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth when I’m done. “What brought you to the city? You said you grew up farther north?”

“Yeah, smaller town near the Wisconsin border.” He bobs his head, hunching over with his elbows on the sticky bar top.

“I needed a change of scenery after a breakup, and getting out of the suburbs felt like the right move. Guess I just got tired of the same old faces and all my training clients being bored housewives hoping that if they got in shape their husbands would stop stepping out on them.”

I wince and give him a sympathetic smile. “Here’s hoping Sweat will be different.”

He bobs his head and makes a show of crossing his fingers for luck. “What about you?”

“Basically same. Had a breakup and I was itching for a change, then by some miracle I got a promotion that required me to be in Chicago. I swear I’ve been pulling shit out of my ass since, like, two promotions ago, but either they haven’t noticed or someone at corporate has some kind of crush on me. ”

“Failing upward.” He smirks, like he knows the experience well.

“Dumbassing my way to the top,” I agree, clinking my glass against his again and taking another drink.

“So, your brother and your best friend are gay?” AJ asks.

“Yeah, and now they’re gay together , so that’s…” I shake my head and focus on the TV again for a second. “I mean, it’s cool, whatever, but it also kind of…”

“Sucks?” he guesses.

“Yeah, it sounds like there’s definitely a lot of sucking.” I manage to keep a straight face for all of half a second before I bark out a laugh.

He sputters into his drink. “Dude,” he complains, reaching for a handful of napkins.

“Oh, come on, I couldn’t leave that one on the table.” I snicker. “Seriously though, I guess I feel kind of left out.” I pull my hat off to card my fingers through my hair, then replace it. “Not in a gay way,” I hurry to clarify.

AJ chuckles. “No, I get it. It’s like your brother stole your best friend.”

“Kind of.” I feel bad even thinking that way. Nolan and Caspian make each other happy as fuck, and obviously that’s what I want for them. “Maybe I’m just pissy because I’m single.”

He wheezes a laugh in obvious understanding. “I feel you. I’m not sure I want to date again, but being single also blows. I don’t know, I think I’m just shit at relationships. I like the idea of them more than I like actually being in one, you know?”

“Yes! I feel like relationships are one secret test after another that I’m constantly failing.”

He slams his hand down on the bar top. “Fucking exactly . My last girlfriend was always on me about not expressing my feelings more. I don’t know what she wanted.

Am I really supposed to come home at the end of the day and be like ‘I missed you babe, let’s snuggle’?

” He snorts into his drink, takes another gulp, then sighs.

“It’s not the women. They’re great. It’s me. I’m emotionally stunted or some shit.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just slap his shoulder and flag down the bartender for another round.

AJ

Four rounds deep, the game in the final inning with the Cubs in the lead, and I’ve got a nice buzz going that’s equal parts the booze and the company.

“Hey.” Slater bumps his shoulder against mine and leans towards me.

He smells like beer and day-old funk. It should be unpleasant, but there’s something I’ve always liked about the smell of sweat on a guy.

It reminds me of the gym and male bonding or some shit.

He jerks his chin, and I follow the gesture to see a blonde in a tight baseball jersey making eyes in our direction.

“She’s checking you out, man.” I bump his shoulder right back and his warm breath puffs against the side of my face as he chuckles.

“No way,” he argues. “She’s looking at you.”

She smiles shyly and then tucks her hair behind her ear and looks away, all coy and cute as hell. After my last breakup though, I think my dick might be broken. It doesn’t even twitch.

“Maybe she has it bad for both of us.” I flash her a friendly smile when she glances our way again. “You ever done that?” I turn my attention back to Slater, eyeing him curiously.

“What?” He does that puppy thing again, cocking his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

“A threeway.” For whatever reason, the four beers over the past couple of hours choose this exact moment to hit me, making my skin feel tingly and my gut feel warm. “Two guys, one girl.” I waggle my eyebrows.

Slater’s mouth falls open slightly and for just a second, he gets this dazed, faraway look in his eyes like he’s imagining it. Then he shakes his head.

“Nah. You?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling charged and jittery. I reach for my glass and finish off the last of my drink.

“Yeah, a few times.” I bounce my knee and shift in my seat, my thigh accidentally pressing against his.

He doesn’t seem to mind though. If anything, he presses back, which is…

weird. Or maybe it’s totally normal and I’m the one being weird.

Shit, the beer really is going to my head.

“Hey, you mind if we head back? Those drinks are hitting me a little harder than I expected.”

“Oh, sure,” he agrees easily, hopping off his stool and reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “I need to shower anyway. I smell like a fucking locker room.”

I laugh as we both toss down cash to cover the bill. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…”

“Dick.” He grabs me in a headlock again and purposefully tugging my face into his armpit.

The overwhelming man stench of his pit hits me even harder, making my stomach twist in a way that isn’t exactly unpleasant but is…

fucking weird. I can feel his laughter vibrating through my whole body as I wrestle him off of me.

The adrenaline from roughhousing has blood rushing south like it refused to do a few minutes ago.

Fucking dicks, man. Half the time they don’t react when you want them to, but they’re always ready to pop awkward wood at the worst, most random times.

Slater lets me go and I subtly adjust myself so he won’t notice and get the wrong idea. We head back to the apartment, stopping to make a copy of the keys on our way. As soon as we get back, he remembers that he needs to drop off the rental truck before the end of the day.

“I’d offer to give you a lift back, but I left my car with my parents so I wouldn’t have to fuck with street parking,” I say. “Plus, those drinks really did go to my head.”

He waves me off. “No worries. I must’ve paced myself better because I’m not feeling a thing. It’ll give me a chance to figure out the L on the way back, anyway.”

“Cool. I’ll catch you later.”

He nods and takes off.

Once I’m alone in the apartment, I realize just how sticky and sweaty I am.

A shower might sober me up a bit too, so it’s a win-win.

I head into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

The old pipes creak and groan as I crank the water on.

I strip out of my clothes, tossing my tank top into a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom, then shuck my shorts and jock too.

Even on rest days from the gym, jocks are the only comfortable underwear if you ask me.

I stick my hand into the shower to check the temperature.

The last thing I want is a hot shower on a day like this, but I don’t want to freeze my nuts off either.

It feels about right, so I step under the lukewarm spray and grunt with satisfaction.

My cock is still hanging a little thicker than usual, and as soon as I wrap my soapy hand around it, it starts to swell and stiffen.

I haven’t jerked off in a couple of days, so it makes sense.

I grunt again, reaching for the bottle of bodywash to add a little more to my hand, then I wrap my fingers around my shaft again.

It thickens slowly, filling my grip and tingling from root to tip.

I roll my head back and forth to loosen up my shoulders and the rest of my body, pumping myself without any rush.

My sac starts to get a little heavy as my balls shift and tighten, and my eyelids droop closed as I work my hand up and down my length in a lazy rhythm.

I brace my other hand against the slick tile wall, steam making the air thick around me as water pelts my pecs.

A few droplets splatter against my nipples, making them tighten and stiffen just like my cock.

I groan quietly and sink my teeth into my bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of the water lapping at my aching, hardening nipples.

They’ve always been sensitive, to the point that I’ve wondered once or twice if I might be able to get off on nipple play alone.

It’s just… I’ve never had the guts to ask a girl to try it.

It feels… weird. I’ve been using that word a lot today, but I don’t have another way to describe it.

It doesn’t feel like something a guy is supposed to ask for, so I never have.

With my eyes closed in the privacy of my own mind though, I definitely go there.

Thick suds squelch along my cock as I work my shaft, giving a little twist of my wrist every time I reach the head.

I call up an image of that blonde chick from the bar, her hair tickling my skin as she drags her hot, wet tongue over my nipples.

I groan and stroke myself a little faster.

The fantasy morphs, no doubt thanks to the conversation we had just before we left the bar.

Suddenly, it’s not just me and the blonde, Slater is there too.

My pulse spikes and I squeeze my cock tighter, jerking it rougher.

My balls bounce with every stroke, and I clench my ass cheeks as I fuck into my fist.

It’s not gay to imagine another dude fucking a chick.

That’s just porn, right? So, I relax into the fantasy, bringing my free hand up to flick my thumb gently over my nipples, teasing them.

I picture Slater still wearing that backward baseball cap and the easy, puppy dog grin that never seems to leave his lips, as he sinks into the blonde from behind.

His muscles strain and his eyelids flutter with pleasure, sweat dotting his skin and making it glisten.

The memory of the smell of his musk weaves itself into the fantasy and my balls squeeze tighter unexpectedly.

“Fuck yeah,” I mutter.

Now that I’m in a good rhythm, my balls starting to tighten and my fantasy running away with itself, I pinch one of my nipples between my thumb and forefinger and groan loudly.

My cock jumps in my fist and I switch to do the same thing to the other one.

The sharp sting zings straight to my cock, tingling through my cockhead and settling in my heavy, swinging balls.

My mind fills with the imaginary grunts and deep, masculine moans that would reverberate from Slater’s throat as he fucked her.

The feminine moans are there too, obviously , but dude, I’ve been in threesomes, and a guy’s moans are always louder and more noticeable.

I prefer accuracy in my fantasies, so sue me.

I alternate between flicking and stroking my nipples, my hips snapping as I fuck into my slick fist. The wet sound of my hand on my cock translates easily into my fantasy, morphing into the obscene slap of flesh as Slater chases his orgasm.

Mine rises at the same time. Tightening, hot, hot, hot in my gut. So close.

I grit my teeth and hump into my fist faster, squeezing harder, pinching my nipples rougher. Hard, hard, hard. That’s what I’m craving. Someone… a woman to bite and grab and get rough with me. Not like kinky shit, just enough that I’ll feel it after.

One more sharp twist of my nipple and my cock starts to jerk and pulse.

My shout echoes off the shower walls as my balls squeeze and I shoot my load.

Rope after rope of my cum lands at my feet, quickly washed down the drain without a trace.

I pant and groan, stroking myself until my balls are empty and my head is spinning.

Post-nut shame hits me like a ton of bricks.

I wrinkle my nose and shove my face under the water to wash it away.

I really shouldn’t include my roommate in my nasty threeway fantasies, but I guess it’s not like he’ll ever know.

Besides, we all think about some freaky stuff when we’re horny, don’t we?