I’m in the hallway sporting an ‘I’m spiraling’boner for my athlete, who was already infuriatingly hard to resist, and nowthis?
When Vox went off on Renner, I thought he was defendingme.That’s why I asked how long he’d known. Unlike him, I worked my ass off to keep that shit under wraps.
Once I was out of the limelight, no one really cared, and I’m not closeted per se, but I’m not standing in the front yard waving a pride flag, either. Especially here.
I scrub one hand down my face and use my other to adjust myself in my jeans because I will absolutely walk off theside of this mountain if Vox catches on to the fact that I’m hard for him.
Two minutes later, the man responsible for my predicament sticks his head into the hallway.
“Uh, Coach, you good? Renner’s all set. We’re just waiting on you.”
My already aching balls tingle when he calls meCoach. It’s rare. It also feels like a sign of respect, which has been in short supply from Vox since the start.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I give Vox a tight smile before ducking into the bathroom, strangling the base of my dick in an effort to deliver the message:we aren’t going there, before heading back toward the training room.
Renner’s session goes smoothly enough. He picks reasonable routes and makes the adjustments I suggest. He’s a safe rider, not a flashy one. Vox asks Renner if he can stay and hang out to learn more about the system. Renner, of course, says yes, and I settle in for another hour of forcing myself to concentrate on the athlete on the board.
When Renner dismounts forty minutes later, I expect him and Vox both to be ready to get the hell out of there, but Vox asks if he can ride again.
I know I should say no. Or at the very least, I should leave.
But I do neither of those things.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll never say no to extra training,” I hear myself say instead.
Vox puts his boots back on and straps into the simulator board once more. He does a couple of easy runs before he goes back to work on his progress on the Everest route.
Much to my dismay, Renner stays to watch. Knowing it’s for the best that another person is in here with us doesn’t stop my intrinsic desire for the athlete currently demanding my attention.
After thirty minutes of working his way down the mountain, he still hasn’t made any mistakes…because he’sfinallylearning to control his descent. Instead of carving a path down the mountain as fast as he can go, he’s studying his terrain, skidding to a stop to make adjustments as needed, often going around a rock face, crevasse, or avoiding a non-survivable ledge.
Renner and I watch as Vox pauses the course and pulls the headset off, needing a break. Although I have other work I need to get done, my heart sinks at the thought that my time with Vox is over for the day, and I’m scrambling for ways to stay in his presence.
Fuck, this is not good.
But Vox turns to me with a smile. “You seeing this? How’s this for descent control?” He reminds me of a kid making sure their parent’s attention is trained entirely on them before completing a task…except instead of jumping from the porch steps or throwing a ball, Vox is turning me the fuck on by expertly maneuvering his board along this course.
I’m totally fucked once we’re back on the mountain again.
Before I can answer, Vox whips his shirt off and tosses it at Renner.
“Put that with my bag, will you?”
Ohmyfuckinggod.This is my penance for hurting Sam, isn’t it? Suffering in silent desire over the worst possible man for me to be attracted to. Someone I have to work closely with, someone who makes my blood boil with rage and all-consuming need at the same damn time.
I made the mistake of acknowledging this desire in the steam room. If I could go back, I never would have set foot in that stupid space. Even if it didn’t totally pan out the way I was hoping, it was insane to put myself in such close proximity with him half-naked and drenched in sweat.
It’s like since finding out he’s bisexual, my brain now mistakenly thinks I have a chance with him.
And it’s not just my brain.
Despite my best efforts in the bathroom to deflate my cock, the traitor is coming to life again at the sight before me.
This time, there is no haze of steam clouding my view; he’s just…there.
Even Renner notices.
“Damn, Vox. How the hell do you look like that? I’ve seen your diet, man. There’s no way you should be that shredded.”
