Chapter Twenty-Three
Marcello
“Fuck me, you’re making my legs shake,” I tell Giles as I extend my legs once more.
“No, I’m not,” Giles corrects me. “You’re doing that yourself. Now give me three more.”
I groan but I can’t tell if I’m doing it because I’m expected to or because it is really required. Because while, yes, my legs are very much shaking as I bend them once more, lowering the weights they’re holding on this leg press machine, I don’t feel like I am close to cardiac arrest. I actually feel like I know what I’m doing and that I am capable of giving Giles three more.
Fuck, after Sunday, I’ll happily give Giles whatever he wants.
I know I’ve probably been thinking about it too much. I sacrificed a whole batch of panini yesterday morning because I was too busy replaying how hot it had been when splatters of Giles’ cum painted his stomach, I’d forgotten to set a timer for the oven. And I was even later than usual for work on Monday because I had actually managed to get myself off in the shower imagining my water-soaked fist was Giles’ mouth.
Yep.Definitelybisexual.
And the best part is that nothing seems to have changed between us during our workouts this week. Well, nothing much. We’ve shared more than a few secret smiles in our training sessions on Monday, Wednesday and today, Friday. Giles commented how well he slept on Sunday night after I asked with a smirk, and I couldn’t help but wink at him when I was on the hip abductor machine on Wednesday because it was so similar to theposition he put me in, spreading my legs so he could fit his body between them. Admittedly, I’ve deliberately avoided taking showers after the gym, because I’ve had genuine concerns that I would pounce on him in the next-door cubicle, but I tell myself that I prefer my own shampoo anyway.
But apart from that we’re normal. Giles tells me what to do, motivates me to push myself and I have found myself enjoying all the above a lot more. Maybe it’s because I can also enjoy the sight of Giles’ hamstrings flexing when he squats in front of me. Or maybe it’s because I’m actually getting fitter, stronger. Whatever the reason, I’m glad.
“There,” I say as I use the lever at my side to take the weight off the press. It clanks with a satisfying sound. “What next?”
“Don’t hate me but now we run,” he says with a mischievous look.
“Werun?”
“Yes, we’re going to practise running on tired legs, because you better believe that’s what you’ll be doing on race day.”
The mention of race day has my stomach flipping. I keep forgetting why I’m actually doing all this exercise. It’s not actually so I can admire Giles’ taut backside in his short shorts. It’s because I signed up to do a fucking triathlon.
“Vaffanculo!” This time cursing is absolutely warranted but doing so only makes Giles’ grin grow.
“Let’s head to the treadmills.” He nods and throws his towel over his shoulder as he walks away.
Five minutes later and I am running at a pace that has my lungs burning. We’re on a significant enough incline that it quickly does the same to my legs.
“Yep,” I gasp. “I can confirm I have… two very tired legs.”
“Well, keep going.” Giles jogs next to me, turning his head only enough to give me a quick smile.
I’m about to ask how much longer I need to keep going for when a figure pops up out of nowhere next to Giles’ treadmill.
“Look who got lost in the cardio section.” Tony’s voice purrs as he looks up at Giles with an expression I can only describe as hungry.
“Tony, hi.” Giles looks at him briefly before fixing his gaze straight ahead in the mirror that we’re both facing. I can’t say it particularly helps, watching my belly wobble as I run, but it does mean I can watch this interaction without craning my neck uncomfortably.
“Haven’t seen you for a while,” Tony says, leaning a hand on the side of the treadmill. He flashes me a quick look that’s not exactly pleasant. “And I see you’ve got a new boyfriend.”
I nearly stumble over my own feet and come dangerously close to smashing my face on the treadmill dashboard but I catch myself just in time.
“Marcello’s not my boyfriend,” Giles says not meeting my eye. “We’re just training together.”
But he did suck me off on Sunday, I mentally add before cringing at just how ugly and spiteful that is even as a silent thought.
It’s not my place to state ownership over Giles. It’s not my place to think of him in such a crude way. That day, that orgasm meant so much more to me. It’s probably also not my place to get in the way of him and this Tony guy.
Reluctantly, I turn my stare back to my jiggling gut.
“Oh, that’s… interesting,” Tony says leadingly and it’s aggravating that he’s able to make his voice carry over the pounding of both Giles’ and my feet on the treadmills. “Does that mean you’re still… available?”
