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I decided to attend the practice even though I couldn’t train. How could I miss it? Any chance to be in Blake’s presence was precious. Now more than ever. Finn teased me all the way to the gym, going into explicit detail in describing how he would use his free time if he was in my place. I suspect he’d think differently if Sandra held the practice instead of Blake. We all have our priorities. Besides, I had another ulterior motive today. I was a man on a mission.

Finn and I were just approaching the gym when we saw Coach standing at the entrance and talking with Professor Richards. They stood very close— too close—grinning like love-struck idiots. She was touching him as she spoke, her hand patting his large hairy forearm in the rhythm of her words. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I felt anger rising in me like a tsunami.

“Uh-oh,” Finn said beside me, his voice dripping with snide amusement. “Looks like Coach is dipping in something on the side.”

I was too mad to reply. He meant it as a joke, I was sure, but if even someone as clueless as Finn could notice their suspiciously flirty manner, it meant that I wasn’t imagining things. Something was going on there. I’ve never been the jealous type—or so I thought—but now I was hitting Professor Richards with a proper death stare. Blake was mine ! How dare she think she could take him from me, with her curvy figure and long blonde hair?

They finally noticed us as we got closer, and I could now pick out their words.

“Look, I gotta go now,” Blake told her. “I’ll see you later.”

She smiled and trailed her finger across his chest. “You got it, big boy.” Then she twirled away in a mist of sweet perfume.

Wow. So, Blake was a cheater. Our eyes met, and his expression shifted in an instant. His body went rigid, his face serious, frowning. Maybe he was disgusted after yesterday’s accident in the locker room. Or he was simply surprised to see me. I couldn’t tell. But at least he had decency to look somewhat ashamed that we caught him in the act .

“Tyler,” he said, completely ignoring Finn standing next to me. No Davidson; he used my first name. “What are you doing here? You know you can’t train until your leg is fully healed.”

“I thought I should observe,” I said through clenched teeth. “You told me I could.”

He nodded, still frowning. “Right. Go inside, then.”

I looked at Finn and said, “Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Finn stared at me for a moment, befuddled but not invested enough to care. He made a face and went inside the locker room to change, leaving me alone with Blake. We gazed at each other in silence for several seconds before I spoke.

“Coach?”

“What?”

“I… I was wondering if you could… give me another massage.”

He inhaled, taking a long, deep breath through his nose. My words were innocent, but what was left between the lines was anything but. He studied me with a flicker of surprise, my bold request catching him unprepared. But he’d told me himself to come by if I needed help with the recovery. Guess after yesterday he didn’t think I’d take him up on his offer. And in normal circumstances, he’d be right. But I was desperate, and I needed to know. His eyes narrowed, a hint of something wary, half-hidden. Yet he kept playing his part. “Your leg’s still bothering you?”

“Yeah. It tightens up when I walk or stand too much, gets worse by the end of the day.” I managed a small shrug, though the pain was real. But we both knew it wasn’t only that. He had surely put two and two together by now. Cumming just from him touching me was a dead giveaway. Still, I held his gaze, waiting for his next move.

“All right. See me in my office after practice.” With that, he turned his back to me and went inside the gym. A moment later, I followed him.

It was on.

* * *

The practice went like a thousand times before. Blake barked instructions, and the guys followed, moving around the mats and toppling each other in rehearsed motions. Alex sat next to me, another injured outcast, his eyes locked on our teammates, anguish carved into his face because he couldn’t join them. I still felt guilty about that, but I couldn’t care less for the practice itself. I only waited for it to be over so I could be alone with Blake. Two hours never seemed so long.

At last, Blake blew the whistle and the class was over. Alex and I went with the guys into the locker room and sat on one of the benches while they stripped out of their singlets, discussing the moves and techniques that they practiced. It was a bit unusual to be the only clothed two in a sea of naked bodies, my gray sweatpants and blue hoodie out of place, but no one thought anything of it. We were part of the team, and the guys tried to include us despite us not participating in today’s exercises.

When everyone finished showering, I told Finn not to wait up for me. He gave me a curious look, but after I told him my leg still hurt and I needed to ask Coach about it, he left the locker room tagging along with Scott and Jared. One by one, the other guys dressed and left until there was no one else around. I was alone at last.

With tentative steps, I made my way to Blake’s office. I found him hunched over the desk, focused as ever on something he was writing—notes, drills, probably the plans he made to keep each of us on track, perfectly in line. His desk was a strange mess of order: a coffee mug stained at the rim, papers stacked high, the faint smell of pine and leather hanging in the air. For a second, I hovered in the doorway, wondering if this was a mistake, if I should walk away, let him keep that world intact. But my leg throbbed, tension twisting through my hamstring like an over-stretched wire. And I needed to know.

“Coach,” I said, more harshly than I’d meant, the word coming out with a strange edge, like a question .

He looked up at me. “Tyler.” He took a breath, the kind that looked like it was meant to clear the air, to establish some space that wasn’t there. “Come in.”

Leave , my mind screamed. This is a mistake. You shouldn’t do this .

I shut the door behind me and stepped into his world.

He watched me for a long moment, then stood up and went toward the worn leather gurney placed in the corner of his office. “I borrowed this from the health center,” he said. “In case we might need it.”

So, he had anticipated this? Did he suspect I was going to use the situation to get close to him? Maybe my plan wasn’t as clever or original as I thought. Or maybe… Maybe he wanted this, too.

He set up the gurney into a makeshift massage bed, saying, “Strip down to your underwear and lie face-down on the stretcher.”

Oh, shoot. When I left my room freeballing this morning, I didn’t intend for Blake to see me like that. Going commando was just habit. I had planned to put on my jockstrap in the locker room before coming to see him, but in the haze of lust and anticipation, I completely forgot about it.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” I said.

He looked at me, startled, then swallowed and nodded. “Fine. ”

Pulling my sneakers off, I yanked down my sweatpants and stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor. Blake kept his eyes on me, as I stood in my hoodie and socks, my lower half completely exposed. His gaze on me felt thrilling, and my cock started to chub up, so I hopped up onto the gurney before I got fully hard. I lay on my stomach, the cool leather pressing against my skin, anticipation coiling in my gut as I tried to keep my face neutral.

I felt his hand close around my calf, firm and warm, kneading through the muscle with a careful pressure that drew out the soreness. I closed my eyes, letting the heat of his touch sink into my skin, feeling his hands move up, slow and steady, his thumbs pressing into the ache. The pain began to loosen, slipping into something closer to relief, even pleasure. My cock stiffened underneath me, hidden from his view.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice floating above me, low, a sound that thrummed along my spine. It held that quiet command, the one I’d grown used to, the one I started to like a little too much. He could have told me to do anything, and I would’ve done it.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, melting into the bed beneath me. His hand had reached the back of my knee now, moving ever higher, his fingers careful, attentive. I felt his breath on my bare butt, closer than before, and every nerve in me woke up, sparked to life. I had to wiggle to make room for my cock, now completely hard, trapped between my stomach and the stretcher, and each movement made the shaft rub against the leather, slick with my precum. Blake couldn’t see it, but something told me he knew what I was doing. He paused, hesitating, and I sensed him teetering at the edge, as if he were trying to decide just how far he’d go.

Then, without warning, his hand slipped higher, his thumb tracing a line over my hamstring, lingering in a way that felt nothing like therapy. My whole body went still, wanting, needing, waiting, afraid to move or speak, afraid to break the fragile thread that had stretched between us.

Those paws of his roamed further up, settling on my ass at last, a touch that was careful but insistent, the pressure deepening, his fingertips pressing into my skin. His touch grew bolder, and I could feel his breath now, short and quick, his control unraveling just as fast as mine was. His fingers slid along my cleft, like the last time, and I felt his weight shift closer, the heat of his body grazing mine. I tilted my head, enough to catch a glimpse of his face, his jaw clenched, a flush climbing up his cheeks, his eyes dark and focused on me in a way I’d only dreamed of. There was a giant bulge in his pants, an unmistakable proof that I didn’t imagine all this, that he felt it too.

My pulse hammered as I felt his big hands tremble slightly, his breath coming in harsh, uneven bursts. I spread my legs further apart, inviting his touch, allowing him full access. And then, as if some line had snapped in him, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my buttcheek, a whisper of heat that shot through me like fire. His mouth lingered, his breath hot against my skin, and I felt myself arch, pushing my ass up, barely able to keep still.

Kneading my buttocks, he spread them apart and dove for my hole. Face buried inside my crack, I felt his beard tickling my skin, his mouth lapping at the tight ring like it was the sweetest dessert and he hadn’t eaten in ages. Having his tongue there, wet and hot, felt like I was being probed by a fire poker. He was rimming me, slurping, loud, shameless. My whole body shuddered as if I was being electrocuted, a moan escaping my lips sounding almost like a cry.

“Oh God… Oh God, Blake,” I whimpered, helpless, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. His name in my mouth felt like a secret brought to life, something I shouldn’t have said but couldn’t take back.

The sound of my voice made something in him shift, his whole body tensing as if he’d been burned. He pulled back abruptly, his hands leaving my ass. I felt the cold air rush in, filling the space where he’d been, his saliva still trickling from my hole to my balls. I turned to look at him, confused, aching, unable to understand the sudden change in his eyes.

“You need to go,” he said, his voice rough, angry, though this time I could tell it wasn’t aimed at me. It was something deeper, rawer, something that he hadn’t wanted to feel. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond me, as if he could ignore the whole thing if he just didn’t look at me.

“What?” I pushed myself up, still feeling the heat of his touch, lingering, insistent, like an echo that wouldn’t fade. “Blake, I—”

“No.” His voice was hard now, final, and I could see his hands clench into fists at his sides. “This can’t happen. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

I stood, trying to keep my expression steady, though frustration and hurt bubbled up inside me. My erection throbbed mockingly, refusing to go down. “Why not? Because you don’t want it to happen, or because you’re scared of what it means?”

He turned his face to me then, his look sharp, his mouth a thin, hard line. “I said you need to go. Now .”

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it, a sound too piercing, too desperate. “But it doesn’t bother you with Professor Richards, right? Then it’s okay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He glared at me.

“I saw you with her earlier. The way you talked. The way you smiled at each other. She almost climbed you like a tree right there in the hallway!” And then, as a final blow, I added, “I wonder how your wife would feel about that? ”

I regretted my words the moment they left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Blake’s face darkened, and he glowered at me with such wrath that I took a step back. For a moment, I thought he might punch me. But then, something cracked in his expression, a bare fissure in his tough-guy facade. He shook his head, his broad shoulders tight with tension, and I knew he wouldn’t let himself give in. Not now, maybe not ever. “My wife is dead.”

I gaped at him, dumbfounded, embarrassment creeping up my cheeks, the ache in my chest growing. An ache that matched the one in my leg, a kind of hollow hurt that went deeper than anything physical. Dead ? Blake was a widower? “But… but you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

“Yeah, so what?” He was getting defensive. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing! I just thought—”

The anger returned now. “Thought what? That I was cheating on my wife? That I would ever do such a thing?”

But he was right. That’s exactly what I thought. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get out of here, Davidson. Take your stuff and go.”

“Coach…”

“GO!” he yelled .

I put on my sweatpants, slid on my sneakers, and did as he told me. With a final glance, I looked at him over my shoulder, but his back was turned to me. He had shut me out. Footsteps heavy, I walked out of his office, the door clicking shut behind me.

As I walked down the hallway, away from the gym, the weight of his touch still burned on my skin, his breath still warm against my ass, my hole still wet from his saliva. So, Blake Hudson was single. And not as straight as I thought, because he clearly felt something for me. But then I blew it and now he hated me. I thought we had made some progress these past two days, but I was wrong. We were back to square one .