Sweaty and Wrecked
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
By the time we hit the second round of drills, my arms were shaking.
Sweat clung to the back of my neck, dripping down between my shoulder blades, soaking the waistband of my shorts. My chest felt tight, lungs dragging in breath that never felt deep enough, legs heavy and sluggish no matter how hard I pushed.
Across the gym, Mason was laughing with one of the older guys, singlet long since pulled down, abs catching the sharp overhead light as he flexed and stretched. He moved like a guy who didn’t have a care in the world, all loose muscle and casual grins, slinging his towel across his shoulders and flashing that cocky, boyish smile that made half the team laugh along without even knowing why.
I tried not to look. I really tried.
But my body kept noticing anyway, even when I forced my gaze away. Mason’s arms — thicker than mine, muscles carved from years of practice — flexed easily as he helped adjust one of the crash mats. His messy blond hair fell into his eyes when he laughed, and his hips swayed with a cocky swagger a little as he walked, not deliberate, just natural, his singlet riding low on his hips in a way that made something crotch tighten.
I clenched my fists briefly, forcing a breath through my nose. Focus, Eli.
And then Casper.
Casper moved in behind me, his presence so quiet and sharp that it hit like a spark across my skin. “Shoulders down, Eli,” he murmured, voice low and unbothered. “You’re locking up again.”
My stomach flipped. I adjusted, shifting the tension out of my back, only to feel his hand land lightly at my waist. Firm. Steady. Warm. His palm pressed just enough to guide me, thumb brushing the edge of my side as he adjusted my angle.
“There you go,” he said softly. “Don’t rush. You’re strong enough to hold it.”
I swallowed hard, biting the inside of my cheek.
It wasn’t like he was doing anything special — just coaching, just spotting, just being the cool, competent assistant coach he was — but my brain didn’t care. My body definitely didn’t care. My cock twitched hopefully, thick and half-hard where it shouldn’t be, pressing awkwardly against the tight stretch of my shorts as I forced myself to hold position. The knowledge that my tight practice singlet wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination did nothing to help my agitated state.
My chest thudded hard as Casper stepped back, letting his hand fall away, his weight shifting smoothly as he moved on to correct the next guy. I caught myself exhaling shakily, trying to act normal, trying to remind myself that this was what practice was for, working hard, pushing limits, not… whatever the hell was happening in my head.
Mason barked another laugh nearby, slinging an arm casually over someone’s shoulders, his chest streaked with sweat, his grin wide and easy. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, just a glance, probably nothing, and I nearly stumbled over my own feet.
Focus. Get your shit together.
But it was hard to ignore how they both moved around me. Mason, carefree, loud, solid and familiar; Casper, sharp and smooth, every move controlled, every touch sending vibrations through my body, even when they shouldn’t have been.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake out the tension, but it only seemed to wrap tighter around my chest. My body ached everywhere, thighs trembling, arms sore, lungs burning, and yet, somehow, the real pressure was all inside my head.
And lower.
The third round was worse.
Casper circled in behind me, voice smooth and low. “Slow it down, Eli. You’re rushing the lift again.”
I gritted my teeth and tried to obey, feeling his hands settle lightly on my hips. The faint pressure made me shiver, my skin prickling under the thin fabric as his thumbs guided the adjustment.
“Better,” he murmured near my ear.
My pulse thudded so hard it nearly drowned out his voice. His body was close, just a few inches off my back, the heat of him bleeding through my singlet, the faint rasp of his breath brushing the side of my neck. I tried to lock into the movement, focus on the mechanics, but every time his hand skimmed across my waist or pressed at my back, my thoughts scattered like dry leaves.
Mason’s laugh rang out from across the mats, loud, easy, casual. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, still shirtless, his singlet peeled halfway down, straps hanging loose at his waist as he roughhoused with one of the other guys. His chest gleamed with sweat, his arms flexing as he lifted a teammate playfully off the ground, muscles bunched and glowing under the overhead lights.
I swallowed hard and forced my eyes back forward, but my face was already burning.
Casper shifted closer.
“Lock your core, Eli,” he said quietly, his hands pressing firmer against me, thumbs brushing across the narrow dip of my waist. I could feel the hard line of his chest behind me, the weight of his presence, and then —
A drop of sweat slid down and off the exposed portion of his chest.
I felt it land, warm and sharp, just below the edge of my collarbone.
Before I could stop myself, before I could even think, I reached up and swiped it away with my fingertip.
And like a fucking idiot, I flicked it to my lips. Just a taste. Sharp, salty, human.
The second I registered what I’d done, my stomach lurched so hard I nearly lost my balance.
Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was that?
I darted a glance to the side, heart rattling. Mason was still laughing, still slinging an arm around someone’s shoulders, but his eyes flicked briefly toward me — and I felt my face flush deep and hot.
Casper straightened, wiping his brow with a towel, his eyes skimming over me for a brief, unreadable instant before he moved on to the next guy.
Was there the faintest trace of a smile too? Fuck!
Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.
My chest heaved as I forced myself back into the drill, sweat sliding between my shoulder blades, my cock pulsing helplessly where the tight curve of the singlet trapped it against my thigh.
You’re just tired. That’s all this is. Focus.
But the taste still clung faintly to my tongue, and the memory of his hands on my waist burned under my skin, no matter how hard I tried to shake it.
By the final set, my body was past done.
My shoulders trembled, fingers aching as I gripped the bars, thighs shaking under the strain. Sweat poured down my back, soaking through my singlet, making the tight fabric stick and chafe in places that had me shifting helplessly just to stay balanced. My breath came ragged, chest heaving, every nerve stretched thin.
Casper moved in close behind me again.
“Don’t rush it, Eli,” he murmured softly, his voice right at the edge of my ear. His hands landed at my hips, firm and sure, guiding me back into position.
I tried to focus on the movement, but then I felt it.
His fingers slid lower — skimming briefly over the snug curve of my ass — and for a moment, just a breath of a second, his fingertips pressed lightly into the space where the tight fabric of my singlet pulled between my cheeks.
My whole body jolted, heat flaring sharp and electric.
No way.
He shifted casually, voice smooth, unbothered. “There you go. Lock your core — feel where I’m pressing?” His hand stayed steady, fingers tracing lightly over the narrowest part of my waist before sliding up again.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, heart slamming so loud it drowned out everything else. My cock throbbed hard and helpless against the tight grip of the singlet, trapped, aching, grinding faintly against the fabric with every tiny movement.
When I stumbled slightly at the end of the hold, Casper caught me easily. His hand closed around my upper arm, thumb brushing the inside, firm and sure. His eyes flicked over me briefly — sharp, unreadable — and the faintest quirk of a smile tugged at his mouth.
Was that on purpose?
I barely managed a shaky nod, chest locked tight, lungs dragging in breath like I’d just sprinted a mile. Mason’s laugh rang out from somewhere nearby, loud and casual, and I half-expected him to jog up and slap me on the back — but instead, Casper let go, his touch lingering just a second longer than it needed to before he stepped away.
I bent forward slightly, hands braced on my knees, trying to pull myself together. My cock was still painfully hard, the tight fabric of the singlet pressing every pulse and twitch right against my skin. I shifted awkwardly, praying no one was looking, feeling the sharp, desperate ache building low and tight in my gut.
But even as I forced myself back into motion, I could still feel the echo of Casper’s hand, the pressure of his touch, the faint heat of his body pressed too close.
I was absolutely wrecked.
The end of practice came faster than I expected.
One second I was bracing through the last set, sweating, trembling, my body one pulled-tight nerve, and the next, Casper was clapping his hands lightly. “Alright, that’s it. Good work today, guys.”
I slid off the bar, landing a little too hard, legs shaky under me. I pulled at the clingy strap of my singlet, trying to peel it away from my damp skin, every inch of me aching and sore. My cock still throbbed faintly, restrained by the tight material, my head spinning from the past hour of closeness, heat, pressure.
Casper was talking to another guy when I turned, but his eyes flicked toward me — brief, sharp, and maybe… lingering?
My pulse jumped hard.
As I wiped my face on a towel, trying to play it cool, Casper stepped closer. His towel hung around his neck, damp blond hair pushed back, the exposed stretch of his chest still gleaming faintly with sweat.
“Not bad today,” he said, voice lower than it needed to be. His eyes skimmed over me, casual but just a little too direct. “You’re learning fast, Eli.”
I swallowed, nerves crackling under my skin. “Thanks, Coach.”
He gave the faintest smirk. “You hold tension in interesting places, you know that?”
My mouth went dry.
He reached out lightly, fingers brushing the top of my shoulder as if in passing, but his touch lingered a heartbeat too long. “Don’t overthink it,” he added softly. His gaze held mine for just a second — unreadable, faintly amused — before he stepped back.
“See you tomorrow.”
I watched him walk off, towel slung lazily over his shoulder, his broad back tapering to a tight, muscled waist. My stomach flipped, heat spiking hard, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning out loud.
Fuck.
How was I supposed to walk back to the dorm like this?
By the time I got back to the dorm, I was a mess.
My body was wrecked, my head was a fog, and my cock — fuck, my cock — was still half-hard, straining against the inside of my damp singlet like it was mocking me. I wanted nothing more than to peel it off, hit the showers, and maybe finally let myself breathe — or hell, jerk off hard and fast just to get the edge off.
But of course, Mason was already there.
“Yo!” he called as I shoved the door open, sprawled on his bed with one leg kicked up, still wearing his half-peeled singlet like he hadn’t bothered to fully change. His hair was damp, messy, sticking up at odd angles. His chest gleamed under the overhead light, flexing abs on full display as he grinned up at me. “Dude, you survived.”
I forced a weak laugh. “Barely.”
“Man, Casper was all over you today,” Mason chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow, the strap of his singlet sliding even lower on his hip. “Like, no joke, I thought you were gonna pass out or something.” He gave me a lazy grin. “He’s intense, huh?”
I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to act casual. “Yeah… he’s, uh, thorough.”
Mason barked a laugh, tossing a wadded-up towel at me. “Understatement of the year, bro.” He shifted, stretching his arms behind his head, his whole chest lifting, his muscles flexing without a second thought. “Man, I’m starving. We should hit food in a bit. But you might wanna cool off first, dude — you look all flushed and shit.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes darting away, heat prickling under my skin.
Mason hopped up, ruffling his hair with one hand. “You good, man?” he asked, stepping closer. “You’re all red.” He smirked faintly. “You sure you’re not, like, secretly into getting manhandled on the mats?”
My heart jumped into my throat. “Shut up,” I muttered, shoving at his arm, but he just laughed.
“Relax, bro, I’m kidding,” Mason said, grinning, ruffling my hair like I was some little brother. “But, like… not gonna lie, you looked kinda wrecked today.” He flashed a teasing grin. “Who was getting you worked up, huh? Casper? One of the girls in class? You got a secret crush or something?”
I groaned softly, dragging a hand down my face, feeling my cock throb miserably where it was still trapped under the damp cling of my singlet.
Mason didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
He flopped back onto his bed, sprawling out with a stretch and a loud sigh, arms thrown over his head, shirt still off, abs flexing as he yawned. “Anyway, lemme know if you’re coming out to eat. I’ll give you a sec to, you know…” He smirked without looking over. “…deal with whatever you gotta deal with first.”
My face went nuclear.
He laughed softly to himself, kicking his feet up and tapping away at his phone.
I sank onto my bed, heart pounding, body aching, cock throbbing so hard it hurt, and brain spiraling.
Casper. Mason. All of it, wrapped tight inside me, raw and burning and desperate.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.
Yeah.
I was fucked.
I flopped back on my bed, hands buried in my hair, teeth gritted, every muscle aching to just let go. My cock was throbbing so hard I could barely think, the damp cling of the singlet pressing every inch of it right against me, teasing every pulse and twitch. All I could think about was peeling the singlet off, grabbing my cock, and finally getting some kind of relief. But of course, the guy I’d been half-jacking off to in my head for days was now sprawled across the room, shirtless and glowing, grinning to himself like none of this was happening.
I let out a shaky breath, stomach tight, heart pounding. There was no way I was going out for food right now. I needed to get this under control first.
One of my fantasies was right there — and he was the reason I couldn’t touch myself.
Mason glanced up. “You coming?”
I shook my head quickly. “Think I’m just gonna chill for a bit. Shower. Rest.”
He smirked, rising from the bed and tossing his phone onto the blanket. “Uh-huh.” He grabbed a fresh shirt and slung it over his shoulder. “Take your time, man. Hydrate. Handle whatever you gotta handle.”
He gave me a mock-sincere nod, then added with a crooked grin, “Try not to moan too loud, yeah?”
I froze. My stomach dropped.
He laughed, already halfway out the door. “Kidding, bro.”
The door swung shut behind him.
I stood in the silence, sweating, stunned, still hard as hell — and totally wrecked.
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