Grayson stood in the kitchen the next morning, staring at the coffee maker while Mia slept in the other room. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the older guy from the gym. That cocky smirk. The way his voice dropped when he gave commands. The brush of fingers against his skin. Grayson told himself he was only going back for a good workout. Nothing more. He needed to stay sharp before camp started. That was it.
He left a note for Mia saying he was hitting the gym again and slipped out before she woke up. The drive felt shorter this time. His hands were a little unsteady on the wheel.
The gym was still quiet when he walked in. Same rubber floor smell, same dance music as background noise. He scanned the room and felt his stomach tighten. The guy was already there, loading plates onto the bench press like he owned the place. Broad shoulders stretching his tank, powerful arms flexing with every movement. Grayson’s mouth went dry.
He almost turned around. Instead, he headed to the squat rack and started warming up. It didn’t take long.
The man noticed him almost immediately. That same slow smirk spread across his face as he racked his weights and wandered over. “Back already. Good. I was hoping you’d show.”
Grayson swallowed and adjusted his grip on the bar. “Yeah. Needed to train again. Legs are still sore from yesterday, but I figured I should push through.”
The guy positioned himself behind the rack without being asked. “Smart. I’ll spot you. You handled it well yesterday. Let’s see if you can take more today.”
The workout started normally enough. But every set felt heavier with tension. Grayson asked for the spot on his heavier sets. Each time the man stepped in close, heat rolling off his body, voice low and rough with instructions.
“Deeper,” he murmured during the third set. “That’s it. Good boy. Keep your chest up.”
The praise hit Grayson low in the gut. He obeyed without thinking, sinking lower, pushing harder. His face burned. Small nods when the man praised him. He quietly said “yes” when told to adjust his form. He couldn’t help it. The attention made him feel electric. Alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
By the time they finished the main lifts, both of them were sweaty and breathing hard. The man’s eyes kept dragging over Grayson’s body, bold and hungry. Grayson didn’t look away.
“Locker room?” the guy suggested, voice casual but edged with something darker. “I need to rinse off before I head out.”
Grayson nodded. His heart hammered as they walked back together.
The locker room was empty. Just the two of them. Grayson opened his locker and started peeling off his tank, hyper aware of every movement. He heard the shower turn on, then off a few minutes later. When he turned around, the man was walking out with nothing but a white towel slung low around his hips. Water still clung to his chest and shoulders, tracing lines down the hard muscle.
Grayson tried not to stare. Failed.
The guy stopped at the bench near Grayson’s locker, only a few feet away. He grabbed the towel and rubbed it across his chest, then let it drop to the floor without a hint of shame.
Completely naked.
Grayson’s breath caught. The man was thick everywhere. Broad chest, defined abs, powerful thighs. And between his legs, his cock hung heavy, already half hard under Grayson’s stare. He made no move to cover himself. Instead, he reached down and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking slowly once, twice, eyes locked on Grayson the entire time.
“See something you like?” he asked, voice low and amused. “You’ve been staring at me the whole workout. Don’t get shy now.”
Grayson’s face burned hot. He was hard in his shorts. Painfully so. He knew he should look away, grab his stuff, and leave. But his feet stayed planted. His eyes kept flicking down to the man’s hand moving over that thick cock, now fully hard and leaking at the tip.
The guy stepped closer. “You can touch if you want. I don’t bite. Not unless you ask real nice.”
Grayson’s hand twitched at his side. The man noticed. He reached out, took Grayson’s wrist gently but firmly, and guided his hand forward. Grayson wrapped his fingers around the hot, heavy length. It felt foreign and thrilling at the same time. The man groaned softly, hips pushing into the touch.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Nice and slow. Fuck, your hand feels good.”
Grayson stroked him, hesitant at first, then a little surer when the man praised him again. His own cock strained against his shorts. The power in the man’s stance, the way he stood there completely in control while Grayson touched him, made his head spin.
After a minute, the guy pulled Grayson’s hand away and stepped back, breathing harder. He picked up the towel but didn’t wrap it around himself yet. “Name’s Keaton,” he said, eyes dark. “Figured we should know that much before this goes further.”
Grayson licked his lips. His voice came out rough. “Grayson.”
Keaton smiled, slow and satisfied. “Grayson,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. “Pretty name. Suits you.” He finally tucked the towel back around his waist, but not before giving Grayson one last long look. “I’ll be here tomorrow too. Think about what you want by then.”
He started dressing, calm and unhurried, while Grayson stood there flushed and aching. The encounter left him reeling. Guilt crashed in almost immediately. Mia was back at the apartment, probably making breakfast or unpacking more boxes. And here he was, touching a stranger’s cock in a public locker room.
But even with the guilt, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted more.
Keaton finished pulling on his clothes and slung his bag over his shoulder. He stopped right in front of Grayson, close enough that their chests nearly brushed. “Don’t disappear on me, Grayson. I think we both know you liked that.”
Grayson managed a small nod. “Yeah. I… I did.”
Keaton’s smirk returned, cocky and warm at the same time. “Good. See you soon.”
He walked out, leaving Grayson alone in the locker room with a racing heart and a very obvious problem in his shorts.
Grayson sat down on the bench, head in his hands. What the hell was he doing? He had a girlfriend. A life. A new team to join in a few days. But the memory of Keaton’s voice, his body, the way he had taken control so easily, refused to fade.
He changed slowly, mind spinning. Tomorrow. Keaton would be back tomorrow.
And Grayson already knew he would be too.
