Page 36 of Filthy Ruck

“You could say that about any of us,” I said. “Especially Jay and Atlas.”

They must have heard their names, because they turned around to glare at me.

“Fuck off, Keller,” Jay snapped.

“Careful, you might hurt his boyfriend's feelings.” Atlas sneered at Frost like he was something he might scrape off the bottom of his shoe.

“Careful, your jealousy is showing,” I retorted. “You're salty because neither Frost or I would give you the time of day.”

“I have better taste than the bottom of the barrel,” Atlas said.

I glanced over at Frost and grinned. “At least he can finally admit he wants a boyfriend. The women of Dusk Bay can sleep safe in their beds tonight.”

Atlas growled and charged at me, his shoulder dropped before he slammed it into my chest. The momentum carried us both backwards.

I fell on my ass, taking him down to the ground with me. Rolling over, I slammed my fist into his face.

He aimed his knee at my groin, but caught the side of my thigh instead. My response to that was to punch him again, and again.

Someone grabbed the back of my jersey and pulled me up off him. Frost and Dallas.

Jay and Ramsey grabbed Atlas before he could lunge back at me again.

“Ten more laps to burn off whatever bullshit is going on,” Coach snapped. “Any more of that and you're both out.”

I spat in the direction of Atlas' boots before heading off at a faster jog.

“He's a fucking prick,” I snarled under my breath.

“You need to stop provoking him,” Frost said. “Sooner or later he might get a punch in. Wouldn't want him ruining that pretty face of yours.”

I snorted. “He couldn't punch his way out of a wet tissue. I don't know what he's doing on the team.”

The problem was, neither did he. The Smashers weren't his first choice. Probably not even his second. Ever since he and Jay joined the team, morale was in the toilet.

“You're not helping.” Ferris Ramsey caught up to run beside me.

I looked over to him. Three words was more than he usually said in any given sentence. If he could express himself in one, or even none, he would. Sometimes, it was frustrating as hell, but it was a vast improvement on people who talked when they had nothing to say.

“I'm very helpful,” I said. “I'm over here supporting my teammates. The ones who aren't dickheads.”

His look suggested that was exactly the kind of thing he was referring to. I supposed calling the other guys names was juvenile, but if the hat fit.

“What do you want me to do?” I demanded. “Kiss their asses and call them ice cream? I'm not going to suck up to those two. They wouldn't do the same to me either.”

“Bury the hatchet,” he said simply. “Not in each other.” He gave me a curt nod before jogging faster to catch up with Jay and Atlas.

“In each other sounds good,” I said under my breath. “Hey, Frosty, did you bring your hatchet to training?”

He grinned. “Shit, I knew I forgot something. I left it in the pocket of my other shorts.”

“I feel sorry for you if your hatchet is so small it fits in your pocket,” I teased.

“My hatchet is huge,” he said. “So big I can barely pick it up.”

“I bet you have no trouble wrapping your hand around it,” I said. Now I was picturing him with his cock in his hand, the tip glistening with pre-cum. I tried not to think about licking it off. If anyone was going to lick anything, it would be him licking my cock.

“I usually need two hands,” he said. “But you wouldn't know anything about that.”

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