Page 7 of Totally Opposed

“There are two of us and one of you. Ian and I share a lot of things but our taste in pizza isn’t one of them.”

“Cool, well, I’m going to jump in the shower. I mustn’t have washed out this soap enough. I’ll be out soon.”

“No quackers,” Duckie calls, and as soon as his back is turned, I slip into the bathroom just outside my bedroom door. Having my own bathroom is amazing. I’ve never had this. Not once in my whole life. I had to share with my asshole ex, which, okay, sharing with a partner is a given, but he claimed the counter for all his random creams and serums, plus two of the three drawers which left me living out of a travel bag I had to put under the sink. Before going to college, I lived with my family sharing a bathroom with not only my parents, but my cousin, Teddy, too. It was madness at times. College was the same, only with more people to share with, but at least they also had more toilets and showers to go around. My shared house was the worst, though. It’s one thing to walk in and find piss on the floorfrom a family member, but when it’s from basically strangers, the ick factor goes from low to very fucking high.

I strip off the wet clothes and climb into the shower, only this time when the water washes over my back and my mind replays images of Alan and his glistening cock, I don’t push them away. I let them morph into fantasies of him coming up behind me while we sang, pressing his cock between the cheeks of my ass, grinding up against me, and jerking me off while my hands reach around to squeeze that perfect ass until we both come.

Chapter four

Alan

Holy fucking shit. Iwas so sure I was busted when he knocked over that mop. I didn’t know what to do, so stupid me fucking stood there just looking at him like a goofy idiot. No wonder he turned away. He probably didn’t want me to see him laughing his fucking ass off. But once my pulse stopped thrumming in my ears and I could breathe normally again, I couldn’t help but start humming the song again. It’s fucking catchy, okay. It’s one of those songs that as soon as you hear it, it’s in your head for hours. But then he started singing, too, and it was sort of normal, like how it is when all the guys are in there, except it wasn’t all the guys. It was just me and Ryan Tanner, and my dick was not behaving normally. I was so glad when he left because with the erection I had, there was no getting past him without him seeing it and that would have made things even more awkward.“Oh hey, sorry, Ryan, I was thinking of you while showering and now I have a huge stiffy. No big deal, right?”Nope, I was not having that conversation.

***

I get to the field about five most mornings, but today I’m running a little late. I blame Ryan and the filthy dreams he inspired. Most of the guys hate how early they get us here on training days, but for me, I want to be here first. It’s nice hitting the gym and getting in a quick steam before the rest of them start arriving. But today, instead of opening the doors to a nice quiet corridor, I’m immediately met with what sounds like someone having sex in one of the rooms.

Moaning echoes down the vacant space in a steady rhythm.

I should leave. But I don’t. Instead, I continue down the hall and then slow when I near the physio rooms. The lights are only on in Kyle’s room and the door is wide open.

I could just walk past like I heard nothing and peek in on my way past, but that’s stupid because they’re not exactly being quiet.

“Almost there,” Kyle’s voice carries through the open doorway.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuuck,” the other guy cries out, and I stop stalling and walk past as normally as I can, peeking out the corner of my eye as I pass, but when I see it’s Ryan on the bed, face down, and Kyle’s fingers are digging into his shoulder, I freeze.

“Holy fuck, you suck!” Ryan screams, and Kyle laughs and then spots me.

“Oh hey, Alan. Are you all good?” Kyle asks, and Ryan shifts on the bed but can’t get up with Kyle pressing into the soft tissue of his back.

“Yeah, headed in for a workout, then a steam. I thought someone was…” You can’t tell him the truth. You can’t say you thought they were fucking, because then he’ll wonder why you walked past. And while Kyle is a good-looking guy, I don’t wanthim thinking I was trying to watch him screwing around in here. “I mean, if I’m totally honest, it sounded like someone was being murdered. Are you okay there, Ryan?” I ask.

“Fuck no. But I will be once Kyle stopstorturingme.”

“I’m not torturing you,” Kyle replies, shaking his head.

My gaze moves over his muscles, like shiny mountains I wish I could explore with my own hands, my mouth, my tongue. Kyle adjusts his position to stand by Ryan’s head and starts working his shoulder muscles down towards his lower back. He leans really far forward, and his face gets so close to Ryan’s ass. A freaking perfectly round ass that’s hugged by short gym shorts right now. Fuck, PTs really do have all the fun, though I’d prefer to be making Ryan moan for a whole lot of other reasons. No. I can’t go there. Half because he’s a Funky Monkey, the enemy. Well, one of them. Now we’ve joined the OG teams on their tour, there are three sides we want to thrash each week. And half because there is no way he’d even want me to. He’s into big buff guys like Harrison, and while my arms are guns when it comes to throwing power, my legs aren’t very big and no amount of working them out seems to be making a difference. I got all the jokes through school, well before I ever started playing baseball. I was the chicken-legged choir boy who got beat up a lot. Not as much as I could have, though. My brothers saw to that. They have all the buff body genes in the family, solid all over those two. With me, it’s like they were pouring the mold upside down and ran out about halfway through.

Gramps was the one who signed me up for Little League and drove me to every practice and game growing up. Baseball has always been our family’s favorite sport. Gramps took me to my first MLB game, and I would love for him to come to see me now I’ve finally made it big. But he doesn’t see this as making it to the big time, he won’t even talk to me about Banana Ball, because to him, this isn’t a sport, it’s the pre-show clown that messesaround before the real bull riders come out. MLB are the bull riders. I’m the clown.

“It’s good you’re here actually,” Kyle says, and I quickly look at him, hoping he didn’t just bust me checking out Ryan’s ass. “Ryan, Alan is always in the gym early every day. You can join him after our sessions and run through the new program I sent you. You have to strengthen those supporting structures to help avoid a real injury.”

“Sure, okaaaaaaaaa owe, fuck, you motherfucker.”

Kyle shakes his head. “He’s being over dramatic. I swear, it’s not actually hurting him that bad.”

“Fuck you, yes it is,” Ryan replies.

“Um, I guess I’ll see you in there,” I say, and I leave them to it. Ryan cries out a few more times, but once the gym door is closed, I can no longer hear him, and that’s a good thing because even knowing those sounds were made because of pain and not pleasure, my mind still went to all the ways I want to make him groan like that, and working out is hard enough without a boner to contend with, too.

I start on the treadmill to warm up and then hit the stairs machine to really get those muscles working. If I am being totally honest, I really come to the gym this early to run through my leg program alone. We all have gym time in our daily training sessions, but I focus on strengthening my upper thoracic and arms then. It’s probably why the team always makes jokes about how I’ll soon be so top-heavy that I’ll fall over if I keep skipping leg day.

I don’t skip it. Every day is leg day for me. I’ve made some improvements in the size of my thighs, and I’m the strongest I’ve ever been, but I don’t see a real change when I look in the mirror. I still look like those weird dinosaurGoombarthings from the old Mario Brothers movie. Okay, maybe not that bad. But myhead isn’t exactly big, and with my broad shoulders and almost no hips, it isn’t far off.

I move on to the leg extension machine and flick the weights to the next level up from yesterday. It burns, but I go slow, pushing through each rep until I finish three full sets. I’m just getting into position on the back squat machine when Ryan walks in.

“You survived,” I say, flicking the weight level up.

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