The impact punched through Asher’s ribs like a sledgehammer, his spine bowing against the mat with a sickening thump that reverberated through the gym. Air fled his lungs in a ragged whoosh, his vision blurring at the edges as Liam’s weight settled atop him, knees bracketing his hips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. The fluorescent lights overhead haloed Liam’s smirk, his dark hair dripping sweat onto Asher’s collarbones. "Stay down, Kovac," Liam taunted, grinding his hips down just enough to make the mat squeak beneath them.
Asher’s throat worked uselessly, his chest burning as he fought to draw air into emptied lungs. The taste of rubber and stale sweat coated his tongue, his vision swimming with black spots that pulsed in time with his hammering heartbeat. Liam’s knee dug deeper into his solar plexus, the pressure making his ribs creak alarmingly. "Fuck-" Asher wheezed, fingers scrabbling at the mat beneath him, his blunt nails catching on the textured surface.
Above him, Liam’s grin was all teeth, his dark eyes glinting with predatory amusement as he pressed down harder, just enough to make Asher’s ribs protest. "You gonna tap, Kovac?" Liam goaded, shifting his weight to grind his hips against Asher’s trapped thighs, the rough fabric of their singlets rasping together.
"Disengage, boys!" Coach Miller's voice cracked through the gym like a whip, sending Liam scrambling backward with a grunt. Asher stayed down on the mat like a butterfly under glass, his chest heaving as his lungs fought to reinflate. Spots danced at the edges of his vision like tiny supernovas bursting behind his eyelids while the taste of rubber and adrenaline coated his tongue. The mat beneath him was slick with sweat, the synthetic fibers sticking to his shoulders where Liam's grip had left crescent-shaped indents in his olive skin.
Coach's shadow loomed over them, blocking the fluorescent glare. "Jesus, Yang," he growled, gripping Liam's singlet to haul him upright with a rough jerk. "Don't kill him." His hazel eyes flicked to Asher's still-twitching form, nostrils flaring at the ragged wheeze of the younger wrestler's breathing.
Asher wheezed out a "Thanks, Coach." between gasps, his ribs still screaming from the impact.
Coach Miller cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Don't thank me, Kovac. Do better." His hazel eyes burned with something Asher couldn't quite place. "I had such high hopes for you." The words landed heavier than Liam's takedown.
Asher pushed himself up on trembling elbows, the mat sticking to his sweat-slicked back. "I'm giving my 100%," he gritted out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Coach's laugh was a short, humorless bark. "Then give 110%, you idiot." He leaned down, close enough that Asher caught the scent of his aftershave, sharp and woody, under the gym's bleach stench. "I need more from you." The emphasis made Asher's throat tighten.
Coach straightened, jerking his chin toward Liam. "Reset and go again." He turned toward the next mat where Mateo had Sage pinned in a brutal hold, but paused mid-step. "Oh, and Kovac?" His voice carried over the squeak of sneakers on matting. "Swing by my office after practice for a quick chat."
The gym erupted in wolf-whistles punctuated by a chorus of "Ooooh, Kovac's in deep shit."
Heat crawled up Asher's neck as he surged upright, ignoring the twinge in his ribs. "Fuck off, guys." He grabbed his headgear with more force than necessary, the foam padding creaking under his grip. Across the mat, Jake caught his eye, his green gaze flicking from Asher's clenched jaw to Coach's retreating back, and winked.
Practice blurred into a haze of sweat and strained muscles. Liam drilled him mercilessly, exploiting every hesitation until Asher's singlet clung to him like a second skin, soaked through at the chest and thighs. By the final whistle, even Liam was breathing hard, his usually pristine hair sticking to his forehead in damp strands. "Not bad, Kovac," he conceded, clapping Asher's shoulder with enough force to stagger him. "For a freshman."
The whistle screeched through the gym with a screech, cutting through the grunts and slaps of sweaty skin on matting. "Practice is over, boys." Coach Miller barked, his hazel eyes sweeping over the sprawled bodies with a flicker of approval. "Hit the showers and get some rest tonight." He turned sharply, tossing his clipboard onto the bench with a clatter before adding, "Except Kovac. Let's talk first in my office. You can shower after."
The gym erupted into another chorus of wolf-whistles and jeers. Coach whirled, veins standing out along his neck as he roared, "Shut the fuck up and shower off!" The team scattered like roaches under light, though Jake lingered just long enough to shoot Asher a two-fingered salute before vanishing into the locker room.
Asher swallowed hard, the taste of rubber and adrenaline still thick on his tongue as he fell into step behind Coach. The older man's shoulders were massive beneath his damp polo shirt, the fabric clinging to the ridges of muscle along his back. Their footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, Coach's purposeful and heavy while Asher's were hesitant and scuffing against the linoleum. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering intermittently as they passed under them, casting jagged shadows across Coach's stubble-dark jaw.
Coach's office door groaned on its hinges as he shoved it open, the scent of old leather and antiseptic wafting out. He didn't sit, just braced his hands on the cluttered desk and stared at the wall of faded team photos. "Close the door," he said, voice low.
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