Page 53 of Give Me What You Will

“I’ll have just a soda water,” the young fighter said, and glanced at Sam.

“Another beer.”

The bartender nodded and left.

“Not a big drinker?” he asked curiously.

Caz shook his head, “Nah. Not when I’m training. I’ll be in Vegas next month. No alcohol until then.”

“Vegas?” Sam whistled.

Caz slipped a hand through his thick blond hair and paid for their drinks in cash. “Yeah, for the last five years. Comin’ up fast. Thanks to good coaches. Ryan and I go way back, though. He told me to come out and train with him for a bit before his big fight.”

“That’s cool of you,” Sam replied, taking a sip of cold beer. “Who’s your coach?”

Sam spent so much time at the gym with Frankie over the years that he knew almost everyone in the boxing and mixed martial arts community, too. Though he was a bit rusty these days with the fresher faces.

“I gotta couple of really good trainers. But honestly, I’ve been learnin’ more from Ryan’s trainer recently. Frankie Casavani.”

Of course.

He bit back a sigh and swallowed a long gulp of his beer, feeling the burn at the back of his throat again. A reminder of Frankie’s huge fucking dick. He was like an infection Sam couldn’t shake. It just kept coming back, no matter what he did.

It also didn’t help that I sucked his cock.

I practically begged for it.

He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

“What about you?” Caz asked. “What do you do?”

“Ryan didn’t tell you?”

Caz bit his lower lip in a rather distracting way. “All right, yeah, he did. But I was tryin’ to keep it light.”

“Light?”

Caz’s gaze was an odd combination of playfulness and something else, almost wild. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to just jump straight to the ‘what are you doin’ after the fight?’ question, or maybe even the ‘wanna come back to my place?’ question.”

“Bold,” he said, smirking, liking this kid.

“Well, I figured I had a 50/50 chance. He said you lived in LA, so you wouldn’t be stayin’ long. And, well, it’s not like there’s a ton of out gay men in my sport, so my options are limited. Very fuckin’ limited. And I have a thing for…” he cleared his throat. “Older guys.”

Sam almost laughed and instead snorted. “Fuck, I’m old, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” Caz asked, smirking as he eyed the gray hair. “Cause you're fuckin’ fit and hot.”

“Thanks, and I’m turning 40 this year.” Sam, deciding to be bold too, added. “You’re also fuckin’ fit and hot.”

Caz, looking enormously pleased, saddled up closer. His hips somehow slid in a hypnotic sway. “So…?”

He swallowed, feeling the heat from this young man like a fiery tornado. He could relate and knew how intense the feeling, the need to release, could sometimes be. And they checked the boxes for one another. Granted, Sam didn’t exactly gravitate toward younger guys, but there was something appealing about Caz that he liked. Maybe because he said what he wanted and he wanted him, which, considering he’d just spent the last several hours of this evening being coldly rejected by Frankie, it felt fucking nice.

“So…” Sam drawled.

“We can watch the fight together…” Caz flicked his eyes over his lips. “And you can let me sit next to you, look at you…”

Sam sucked in a breath.