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December descended with a chill that settled deep in my bones, the kind that made the mornings in the gym sharper, harsher. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as the team pushed through drills, the air thick with the tang of sweat and determination. Matches were coming fast now, every weekend a new challenge, a new test. Sometimes I took my Ephs on trips across states, to different colleges; other times we hosted the competitions on our home turf at Williams. And amid it all, Tyler burned like a star in my orbit, impossible to ignore.

He moved across the mats with a grace that was almost maddening, his body taut and purposeful, every muscle honed by weeks of grueling work. His injury was a distant memory now, though I still caught myself watching him too closely, my chest tightening every time he stumbled or winced. He was victorious every time now, winning every fight, destroying every opponent, like he had something to prove. He was relentless, his focus unyielding, and I both admired and resented it. It reminded me of the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this, and yet here I was, utterly incapable of stopping.

Our affair—it felt dangerous to even think the word—had become a rhythm I couldn’t quit. Late nights at my place, early mornings in my office, stolen moments in between matches when no one else was around. The need we had for each other was insatiable, a fire that burned hotter with each passing day.

“Blake,” he whispered one night, his voice a low rasp as we lay tangled together in my bed. His hand was on my chest, his fingers playing with my nipples in a way that made it impossible to think straight. “What happens after the semester?”

The question caught me off guard, piercing through the haze of exhaustion and desire. I looked at him, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I’d intended. “One step at a time.”

He nodded, though I could see the doubt flickering in his gaze. And I hated that I couldn’t give him more, that I couldn’t promise him a future that felt as sure as the present.

* * *

The weeks flew by in a blur of bus rides and hotel rooms, of matches won and lost, of quiet moments stolen when no one was watching, and nights of secret passion. The team was thriving, their spirits high despite the grueling schedule, and I threw myself into my role, trying to keep my focus on them, on the job. Scott made it to Regionals, proving he was the best fighter on the team. He was already setting his sights on the nationals, the ambition burning hot inside him. But Tyler was giving him a run for his money, my chest swelling with unbound pride as I watched him fight. He was always there, a quiet gravity pulling at me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape him.

It was during one of our away matches, in a dimly lit hotel hallway, that the weight of it all hit me. Was I selfish to use him so I could feel better about myself? Was it wrong to keep him to myself, instead of letting him find a guy his age? Was I a pervert for sleeping with one of my students, a boy more than a decade younger than me? These thoughts pressed heavily upon me when Tyler came to my room, the team already in their beds, his knock soft but insistent. I let him in without a word, the tension between us thick and electric.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this,” I said, though my hands were already reaching for him, my resolve crumbling the second he stepped closer .

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes holding mine with a quiet intensity that made it impossible to lie.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I pulled him closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a collision of need and fear. All I knew was that I wanted to hold him, to protect him, to make his smile shine so bright until it seemed like he had swallowed the sun.

* * *

As winter break approached, the reality of our separation loomed like a shadow. The team buzzed with excitement, their conversations filled with holidays plans, while I found myself retreating into my thoughts, the weight of what was coming pressing down on me.

“I’m heading back to Connecticut,” Tyler said one night, his voice casual, though his eyes were anything but. We were in my office again, the door locked, the blinds drawn, the world outside forgotten. He sat naked on the couch, his legs tucked under him, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. “Spending the holidays with my brother and our dad.”

I nodded, my chest tightening. “I’ll be in Boston with my family.”

He told me about his home in Stamford, about the snow and the quiet, about his mom’s terrible attempts at baking, and his dad’s penchant for walking nude around the house. I told him about Boston, about the familiar comfort of my parents’ house and the way my dad still insisted on dragging me to the local bar to catch up with old friends. At last, silence fell between us, heavy, the unspoken question hanging in the air: What happens now?

“Keep in touch?” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Sure,” I promised, the words coming easier than I expected. Because the truth was, I couldn’t imagine not hearing his voice, not knowing he was there, even from a distance. “Hey, that reminds me. I, uh… I have something for you. Not exactly a Christmas gift, but it will have to do.”

“What?” he said, his eyes lighting up like a child’s.

I rose from the couch and searched through my gym bag until I scooped up a small pouch. He took it from my hand and opened it. “My silkies,” I said at the same time as he pulled the skimpy nylon shorts out. “I figured you might like having them with you while I’m gone. Since you like stealing my underwear and all.”

He looked up at me, bringing my favorite pair of ranger panties to his face to sniff them. “You haven’t washed them, did you?”

“Take a look inside.”

Tyler pulled the shorts inside out and gasped, seeing the dry precum stains on the silky fabric. His grin was so wide I thought his ears might hurt. He was beyond beautiful. “I’ll be thinking about you every time I wear them.”

His goofy, childlike happiness was contagious, and I laughed, unable to stop smiling. Making him happy made me feel alive.

We spent the night before he left together at my house, the world outside forgotten. The snow was falling softly, blanketing the streets in quiet, and the fire in the living room cast a warm glow over everything. We had sex, talked, had more sex, ate dinner, and had sex again. It still wasn’t enough. Tyler was dozing off on top of me after our most recent round, his body sprawled over mine in the opposite direction. We had been sixty-nining, and his face rested in my crotch, right next to my spent cock. His ass was right in front of my face, and I couldn’t resist playing with it even after a long, thorough session of tongue-fucking.

As I pulled his cheeks apart, I started planting soft kisses over his hole, gently teasing it. It didn’t gape anymore like it did when my cock had been pounding it, his anal muscles returning to normal. But the tight pink rosebud I once knew was permanently transformed, stretched into a long slit by our constant fucking. It kind of resembled a pussy now, wet and a little swollen, and it drove me fucking wild. The knowledge I had left a lasting mark on his body was intoxicating. How was I supposed to survive the next four weeks without this ?

“You’re going to miss me,” he teased, playing with my balls like a kitten, his voice sleepy but mischievous.

“Is that right?” I said, biting one meaty buttock.

He gave my cock a slow, sloppy kiss. “I know he’s going to miss me.”

“Cheeky brat.” I slapped his ass, the blow sharp in the quiet of the room. “You’re going straight to Santa’s naughty list.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and easy, and as he wiggled his butt at me everything felt simple. But the simplicity was fleeting, a fragile thing that slipped through my fingers the moment I thought too hard about it. It wasn’t enough, but it was something. And for now, something was all we had .