Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s cold. Bdubs shivers in his green puffer jacket and exhales a heavy sigh. His breath billowed out into the mist, and he watched as it dissolved into the field in front of him. The whistle blowing and shouting fell away to a faint hum, and Bdubs lost himself in seeing the hazy figures in front of him dart as quick as fish with a streaking white ball. Maybe his friends and family were right- Washington was not for the faint of heart. He could just hear his mother’s insistent voice, “Bdubs, you don’t know anyone out there! Pick someone closer to home for your first job, trust me.” Cleo could make anyone question their decisions. But, he traveled anyway. He left the rolling hills of the South for cloudy swaths of gray so so close, he swore he could feel the mist on his face.

There was a certain kind of beauty here, though. So many different hues of coffee, the pattering on the bus windows in its own harmony, and the exhausted smiles of each player after a long day.

It hurt, sometimes. To watch the players weave in and out, to hold such strength evident in the cords of muscle wrapping their knees. To had lost his chance to play because he simply was not born tall enough and with a permanent ache in his knee. To throw the decade of playing away and to settle for the next best thing- helping the players that were born tall and healthy enough- to never be like him. And so, after years of studying and a quarter spent in the farthest he’s ever been from home, Bdubs is here. Was it worth it?

His answer streaked past him on the sideline. A flash of silver hair, narrowed eyes, and pale skin. Iridescent dew scattered into mist as the ball slipped through a gap at his feet, sleek black cleats with blue chrome accents. Bdubs lost himself in the sinews disappearing beneath his socks, the harsh lines in his quads as he dribbled up the line.

Etho. Number 11, starting left wing, or position 7, right dominated, but trained ambidextrous. Takes corners with left for an outswing and right with an inswing. Senior captain, no fights on record, and leading goal scorer from Alberta, Canada. A quiet demeanor that keeps players in place, but quick to laugh and quicker to make a joke at himself. His eyes crinkle when smiling, and Bdubs cannot recall if he had ever seen his mouth. For whatever reason, he had always worn a gray gator-like mask. He had never seen the captain get questioned for it before. It was odd. Intriguing.

Etho was just intriguing, nothing more, he told himself.

And suddenly it happens all too fast- a large figure looming, left leg in the defensive stride, hips jutting to force him to the line, and Etho’s lithe form suddenly seeming too fragile, too precious for this game as he loses traction on the snow- and the ball skids to the side as Etho collapses onto white.

Bdubs is up in a second, running over without even remembering to bring his bag.

By the time he reaches the field in a couple of strides, he can already see the tears glittering in the defender’s eyes. Gentle giant Skizz, somehow always playing with his sleeves rolled up in blizzard weather and somehow always getting a yellow card. His teammates began to jog in once Etho made no effort to get up. Bdubs watched with no interest at all as the captain’s navy long-sleeved shirt darkened as the melting snow seeped in and clung to his skin.

So not immersed, he almost missed the “Oh, fuck you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” murmured behind him. Gem reached him as soon as he shooed all the players away from him, instructing Impulse to lead Skizz through his breathing exercises, and he knelt to analyze the Etho-shaped mass on the floor.

“Hey, Etho. Quite a tumble huh?” Bdubs quirks as the man’s gaze sweeps to him with the left half of his face pressed to the floor. The trainer takes in his laboured breathing and his eye squinting in pain. His face looked almost gaunt and lighter than the snow.

“Tho-ought the snow looked comfy today,” Etho replied, voice muffled by fabric and shuddery.

“Har har. Alright funny guy, what are you feelin’?” Bdubs resisted the urge to brush back the hair plastered to his forehead.

“I- I uh felt this sharp pain when I tried to accelerate.” He exhaled shakily. “Then I lost traction and my leg just- just buckled and I felt like I had just nothing. No power.”

Skizz tries to reach for Etho but Impulse holds him back. “You know I didn’t mean it, cap!” Impulse, always with the sweetest smile on his face yet their toughest defender in the back. He is known for taking multiple shots near the half line and scoring. Bdubs swore that the soccer ball looked the same size to his thighs sometimes.

Etho’s eye crinkled. “Skizz, buddy, you didn’t even touch me.”

Bdubs smiles softly. “Can you wiggle the toes in your right leg?” The man half nods. “Hear a click or a snap when you fell?” He shakes his head. “Can you try to bend your knee.” Etho’s face contorts into concentration but he sharply inhales and his expression crumbles. “Uh- yeah no can. B-but- don’t you worry Coach! You know I’ll be there for our game in uh- 3 days.”

Gem just sighs again, shaking her auburn curls. “Sure you will, cap. Wait till Lizzie comes back from her 3rd coffee run, she’s gonna whip you guys into shape for the next game without Etho.”

“… wouldn’t mind if Lizzie whipped me,” Joel whispers to Grian next to him, who simply scoffs with a chuckle. Bdubs decides that Joel needs some whispering lessons as Gem wrinkles her freckled nose in disgust.

Joel and Grian, quite possibly the worst duo on the team. With a streak of green in his hair, and one of the shortest on the team, he stood out constantly on the field. He relies on his brute strength and his anger issues to bulldoze through entire back lines. Grian, the other striker, seemingly meek and thin, has twice the wit of Joel. Constantly slipping through players with grace, megging them, and leaving them with their pants by their ankles once or twice. They both have gotten more than a few talks with the ref for being “more than slightly deranged.” Their synergy with each other and their natural leadership must be the reason Gem still keeps them on the team.

Everyone else too caught up with the thought of sprints, groans. Martyn is the loudest with some interesting swear words.

”Martyn, you know you need it the most if you’re gonna hold down the middle.” She eyed him with a severe glare. “You hafta know that the cardio you do with Ren isn’t enough, huh?” She grins as the team erupts into shoving and shouts, as Martyn and Ren shrink with rosy cheeks. Martyn may be one of the slowest on the team, but he makes up for it with his ingenuity and game knowledge. He maintains the position of holding center mid, balancing the other two attacking mids and supporting the defense. Ren is one of the attacking mids with Mumbo, who is a newer player. Ren is a little clumsy, a little shy, but all heart and smiles. He has charmed more than a couple referees to let Joel and Grian off without a card.

“Alright, alright folks let’s give Etho some space so we can check him out.” Bdubs says.

Gem glances at her phone. “Bdubs will take care of him, you all can get back to the scrimmage. I gotta call the coaches.” She pointedly looks at each of the players with dark green eyes. “You guys know to be careful with acceleration on the more drenched sections of the field. Focus on connection today and less of physicality.” She walks off, throwing up her hands as she rambles on the phone with Pearl animatedly.

He notices that Joel lingers. “Hey, you think you can flip over so you can walk back?” Etho nods and rolls onto his back, all while grimacing with pinched eyebrows. Bdubs wants to cry. Ever the professional, he instead grabs Etho’s left arm and puts it around his neck. He ignores the comforting warmth. “Joel, you think you can grab his other side?”

“Yup, yup,” he swoops underneath and together, on the count of three, they lift Etho up with his weight onto his left leg. Bdubs worships the small victories which meant that the man was pressed up next to him, he smelled like dew and linen. He pointedly ignores that Etho is much taller than him and has to lean into him to be supported.

“I’m no doctor Etho…” Joel contemplated, examining Etho closely as they limped to the sideline. Bdubs suddenly did not like the way Joel pronounced Etho’s name in his British accent, like “Eefo.” “But this may be a symptom of that horrible injury.”

“Uh huh, Joel enlighten me?” Etho huffs out. Drops of perspiration had collected by his hairline with the effort needed to hobble along. Bdubs worries this would last more than a month.

“I think… I think it’s called washed-up syndrome.” Joel can not finish the line first, before he is already cackling. Etho looks at him with boredom and shoves him off abruptly.

“Oh, somebody thinks he’s funny. Shoo ‘n go score a goal or something.” He pats the arm that Joel is pretending to cradle.

“Thanks for your help though.” Bdubs pretends not to stare at the way his thin hand rests on Joel’s bicep a second too long and the glimmer in his eyes. Joel smirks back at him and salutes the two of them before running back on the field.

“What a guy,” Bdubs says, perhaps with some contempt in his voice. Etho turns, his tall frame looming over him and Bdubs feels his heart jitter at the eye contact. “Oh, for sure,”

The shorter man almost drops him with how spooked he was. Sure, they’ve had brief, typical conversations about past injuries and slight brushes of hands, but never has he been this close to see the faint scar on his brow bone and the purple stark beneath both eyes. He thinks that his delicate eyelashes will feel like butterfly wings on his cheekbones when they kiss.

“Uh- you think you can stand while I bring the golf cart around to go get you checked out in the office?” Bdubs cannot hold the heat of the eye contact and flits his gaze away to the mist blanketing the mountains. The sky was just beginning to dim in shades of purple and it was past eight, which always amazed him.

“Would you mind if you checked me out here? I want to be there for the wrap up at the end of practice.”

“No problem,” Bdubs replied and regrettably, pulled away from Etho’s warmth to help him lie chest down onto the bench. Through a lot of wincing and breaths, Etho murmurs, “I’m so glad no one else is here. I can finally be weak.”

“Oh, you’re plenty strong.” Bdubs says absentmindedly as he analyzes the tendons wrapping around the back of the knee. The area was already inflamed and looked tender. “You okay if I touch you now?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Etho breathed out, once again his head facing Bdubs as he watched him work.

The trainer slid down his sock to analyze the knee, checking for inflammation and signs of patella strain, often connected to the hamstring and abductors. He sighed with relief. “Most likely nothing knee related, thank goodness.” Bdubs continued up, cautiously raising his shorts, wet with cold from the snow, and he felt entirely too large for his skin. “You have some bruising along the back and your IT band.”

He tries to be as gentle as possible, brushing the area for any knots or abnormal swelling. At a particular spot, he hears the faintest whimper and Bdubs freezes in place. Oh fuck. He looks over and Etho is breathing heavily, pale skin glistening. “Ohmygosh, I am soso s-sorry! Didn’t realize that area was so tende-“

“No-no, ‘Dubs, you’re fine.” Etho chuckles sheepishly, his brows furrowed with embarrassment. “Guess I’m just sensitive.”

Sensitive. Bdubs thinks he’s melting. Where else was he sensitive? He can almost feel the pads of his fingers digging into his waist as Etho is buried within him. He’s slick with sweat but his hands are cold and they feel like snow. The man is whispering sweet things into his ears, and Bdubs crumbles at the appraisal and endearment. Does he make those whimpers when he is just about to-

He snaps out when he feels the blush spread to his face. What the fuck is he doing?

He is their athletic trainer. There are strict rules against this and he is already being too carefree. He cannot afford to lose this job at the start of his career and lose the best team he has ever helped. Etho was just being friendly. This was just attraction, he repeated to himself. Nothing else would spiral from this.

It was time to go back to normalcy.

Bdubs finishes the exam with firm touching. He felt along the other leg to compare it as a baseline, and grimaced at how tight the muscle was. It seemed like every part of his body was heavy with exhaustion but bunched up like a knot. “Okay… most likely a grade two hamstring tear. It’s not a complete tear, but you must have gotten through most of it when your leg buckled.”

Etho sighed heavily, shutting his eyes. “How long am I out for?”

This was his least favorite part. “At least a month. You should be back in time for championships.” Bdubs met eyes with him somberly. “Recovery would do you great though, Etho you’ve been stressing yourself out too much. I can feel it and see it.” He tried to say it as gently as possible. “I played too much and jacked up my knee for life, you gotta rest it sometime.”

Etho looked at him with curiosity. “You played?”

“Just high-school, wasn’t healthy enough for college.” He looked at the hues of cascading blues in the sky and all the shouting on the field faded past him. “The usual, ya know?”

Ethos cheeks rose, and Bdubs wondered what his smile looked like. “Bet you were too short and slow as hell.”

“Something like that,” Bdubs felt miserable seeing Etho’s face fall at his dull response. He could not help but notice his resemblance to mist. Never demanding anything, but gorgeous all the same in the way they made things around them feel natural, and raw in a way.

Speaking of raw, Bdubs wanted-

Aw, fuck he had to pull it together.

Etho follows his gaze to the sky. “It’s always breathtaking. Doesn’t beat Canada, though.” Bdubs murmurs, “never been. Maybe someday.” And together they watch the clouds move for just a second or two. He is taken out of the moment as the players neared, all interested in hearing the diagnosis.

“Etho! What’s the say?” Scar saunters in, with a slight limp. The goalie had loved soccer for all his life, but an injury in his teens had prevented him from playing on the field. On good days, he is a ray of sunshine cracking jokes all while stopping cannon shots. On worse days, he will sit with Bdubs and talk about everything from Star Wars to his adorable cats in his dorm(no one tell the resident advisor!!) and Bdubs cherishes every second of it. Once Bdubs saw how attentive his teammates were to his health, never overbearing, he knew that this team would become much closer to him than simply clients.

“Grade two hamstring tear, I’ll be out for a month or so.” Everyone groans and sighs quite dramatically.

“But, but! I’ll be back in time for champs,” Etho looks over to him with gleaming hope in his eyes. Bdubs smiles and nods. “Yes, Etho will be back by then if he ices everyday and does his physical therapy.”

Everyone devolves into cheers and their conversations become a comfortable rhythm. Bdubs hides his grin at Etho’s attempts to look dignified, enthused with his amicable talking with Skizz and Impulse despite the pain. As Gem nears with a quite frazzled looking Lizzie, Bdubs realizes he needs to clean up and finish the paperwork of yesterday, and uh, the day before that too. He realizes the need to distance, and figures that Gem could cart Etho over after closing practice.

With that, Bdubs begins his walk back to his office and tries to find beauty in the snow that begins to flit down gently. He imagines it burying his thoughts forever.

★

20 minutes or so has passed. He’s walking back from the bathroom when he hears voices around the corner.

“Y’know, I like it when you’re against me.” Bdubs stops right in his tracks.

A breathy voice chuckles. “I knew I should have let coach cart me back.”

“Oh come on, Etho. You know you need me.”

”What I really need right now is a break, come help me to this wall.” Bdubs hears his laboured breathing and his heart pangs. It’s quiet for a bit and they seem farther.

”Etho,” Bdubs hears him say, and he now knows for sure that it is Joel. “You know I can take care of you. Don’t gotta be such a tough guy.”

He hears him sigh. “I know Joel, you’re good to me.” Bdubs hears fabric rustling and he cannot resist it longer, he walks softly to the corner and looks around.

Joel has Etho leaning into him, gripping his waist. Etho is facing away from him, so he cannot see his facial expression. It seems so natural, his body leaning into the shorter man’s warmth. Bdubs watches as Joel’s fingers wander up from his waist to his jaw. He does not ignore how the silver-haired man folds into the touch.

It’s faint when he next hears Joel speak. “Come over tonight. It’s been too long.”

Bdubs steps back before he can hear Etho’s response and once out of earshot, walks briskly to his office. He locks it up in a haze and before he knows it, he is sitting in the warmth of his car with his fingers gripping the wheel tightly. It grounds him in a way, and he just sighs heavily. He shrugs off his puffy, turns on the car, and combs his unruly hair. The sun has now set, and it is his favorite time of day- dusk. He revels in the darkness intermingled with purples and looks up to see the faint stars dotting the sky. It reminds him of his family and home.

Whatever that was, was not his business. He was here to do what he loved and support the team. It is only then does he realize he was supposed to formally give Etho his instructions on how to care. Bdubs gives himself this one chance of weakness. He will play it off as an emergency and will message him the instructions later.

Bdubs finally lets his head the wheel as he lets out a heavy breath. From now on, he will be perfect. He will not talk to Etho again, unless he must.

Chapter Text

8:43 pm

You
Hey, this is your athletic trainer, Bdouble O. I would like to apologize for not being there after school, I had a personal emergency. Your routine is as follows: ice for 15-20 minutes, every 2-3 hours. Use compression to reduce swelling. When resting, try to elevate as much as you can. Do not engage in any physical activities or anything strenuous. I understand that your roommate, Impulse, can lend you crutches. Thank you, and I apologize again.

Bdubs watched the message flicker to “delivered,” and he huffed out a breath. He wondered how people could be so serious and business-like all the time; this was tiring. It still felt so wrong to text Etho’s number with his personal phone, even if he had all of the players' numbers in case of emergency or inquiry. His mind absentmindedly wandered to the bottle of whiskey sitting on the worn kitchen table. The man melted back into his bed and tried to ignore the nagging in his mind. Before he knew it, he was off the bed padding downstairs in fuzzy, manly socks to find that bottle.

He convinced himself that Etho would have no questions, or he would not reply because he was currently getting the best backshots of his life, and Bdubs was not drinking while texting a client. He poured the glass anyway and watched the amber slosh into cheap crystal.

His phone reverberated on the table mid-pour. After taking a sip and biting his teeth, he slipped back up the stairs before deliberating to just grab the bottle and then went back up to hide under the covers.

He peered down and saw:

Unsaved Contact
“you’re good. you sound a whole lot older and fatter texting me, what’s up with that?”

He shook his head lightly, resting it against the cool glass. It centered him. He took another burning gulp.

It took him multiple tries to reword his next response.

You
“This is your athletic trainer. Do you have any questions about your physical therapy?”

Bdubs swallowed more, and he found the whiskey eased him into it. He dreaded seeing the three dots indicating Etho was typing a response.

Unsaved Contact
“i swear if i am talking to a bot...”

He scoffed a bit before straightening up and realizing that scoffing was also unprofessional of him.

You
“No, it’s just your friendly neighborhood Bdouble O.”

Bdubs sipped as he waited for the response, barely acknowledging the warmth filling his stomach. He thought of his dogs and family at home and how he missed someone else in his bed. He thought of the last time he had someone in his bed, and found that memories were fuzzy as it all happened before he moved to Washington. Flashes of sticky summer skin, halfway promises, and missed calls. In the Pacific Northwest, Bdubs found that those thoughts had dissipated like coffee steam between slants of light from his downstairs window.

The man wondered what Etho was doing at the moment.

Shrugging on his clothes at Joel’s apartment, phone light stark in the dark room? Was Joel trying to peer over his shoulder, grumbling at Etho to come back to bed? His thoughts managed to amble to the silver-haired man, always.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

Unsaved Contact
“there you go you sound a bit more like yourself now.”

You
“Why yes, of course, do you have any concerns?”

“i hope everything is okay though, was looking for you after practice.”

He felt too vulnerable in the way that he blushed.

You
“How horrible of a person I am, you’re in crutches and you’re the one checking on me.”

Bdubs took a breath.

“But, if that is all, I will see you at practice tomorrow.”

Unsaved Contact
“goodnight”

He stared at the screen for a second, maybe anticipating something else - anything else. He dropped his phone into his lap and gripped the glass tightly. A distorted, brown face looked back at him at the bottom of the crystal. Never had he looked so tired. In a blink, and the glass was exchanged for the bottle on his nightstand. This time, it felt like water going down his throat.

His phone vibrated and he immediately picked up his phone.

STUPID FREAKIN SPAM CALLER
“Hi, it is extremely urgent that I talk to you about the life insurance of your washing machi-”

Bdubs groaned and set the bottle down. God, he was pathetic, wishing for another response. Why was he acting like he had never had dick before? Why did he want this one man so fucking bad?

Then his phone shook against the blankets again. He glanced down.

Unsaved Contact
“wait bdubs how do i wrap my hamstring?”

He celebrated the small victories of life and rewarded himself with another swallow.

You
“It’s just a wrap around the thigh with the ace bandage, and you tuck it in, make sure it is tight enough to compress but not too tight. Take it off before you sleep.”

Unsaved Contact
*sent a photo*
“like this?”

Bdubs exhaled audibly, and his jaw slackened. The room was dark, with beige walls and soft yellow light emanating from the right to illuminate pale skin. “Oh fuck me.” The man said to the emptiness of his room. Etho’s thighs were huge, quadriceps muscles tensed to show the soft grooves in his skin. His injured leg’s shorts were rolled up high, dark blue sliders peeking out from underneath. Bdubds ignored the shittily wrapped compression bandage- how did Etho not know how to do a wrap??- and drew his attention to Etho’s hand resting on his other leg. Large, but thin fingers. And, do not even get Bdubs started on the veins in his forearm. He had to swipe a hand across his face to refocus.

By the time he began to formulate his scattered thoughts into a reply, four minutes had passed. This was not professional at all. Etho had just wanted help with his wrap, right? Bdubs would do his best. It was getting harder to ignore the warmth sitting in his gut and the lightheartedness of talking to someone he admired.

You
“Yeah, that’s a good start. Try wrapping each section so that they only overlap a half-inch or so. It should cover more surface area.”

And you have a lot of surface area, Bdubs thought to himself as he waited a minute or two.

Unsaved Contact
“oh thanks, it feels a lot better.”

“sorry im keeping you up, i know old men gotta sleep early.”

You
“Who you calling old? But, you’re right, I’m always in bed at 9.”

Unsaved Contact
“poor mrs. bdubs…”

You
“Now you definitely have the wrong number. Got too many options to settle down.”

Bdubs pressed send without thinking about it, and then paused. This was just being friendly to his clients. He thinks.
Unsaved Contact
“oh sure, i am sure youre very knowledgable with bodies. speaking of, is the bruising normal?”

He considered the text. He wasn’t talking about sex… right? It was just because Bdubs is an athletic trainer. His train of thought was interrupted when the photo was sent.

*sent a photo*

If Bdubs were standing, he would have fallen to his knees. It was a mirror picture of Etho’s back and the back of his legs. The captain had not showered yet, his practice shirt stretched across wide shoulder blades. Muscles were prominent in his deltoids and biceps, and Bdubs strained to imagine how his back would look without the shirt, gleaming with sweat. He was holding his phone sideways, and there was a sliver of his face profile visible. Bdubs saw the gleam in his eyes and felt heat spread like wildfire. It was obvious that Etho was a little unsure, pink cheeks beneath the mask and a soft posture, but fuck, the trainer would be lying if he said that it was not working on him. His gaze trailed down to the swell of his hips and the muscles that lined them. From a player perspective, Bdubs was incredibly jealous of the man’s glutes and his quads. From a horny young man perspective, Bdubs was incredibly mad that Etho was not in his bed. His shorts were still rolled up, porcelain skin under the dim bathroom light. The injured leg had dark purple bruising spreading outside the bandage. A normal symptom of a pulled hamstring, but jarring when seen. He could not help but imagine bruises like that made by him, littered across pale thighs and the expanse of his back.

Bdubs shifted and felt arousal simmering beneath his skin. He could feel himself half hard and heavy against his thigh and sincerely weighed his options. The room had become a little hazier, warmer, and he was nearing the bottom of the bottle. Before he even responded, a text slid in.

Unsaved Contact
“whats wrong dubs, something you thinking about?”

He warmed at the nickname further and fumbled around- what was he supposed to say? He could feel himself slipping into things that should not be said. Maybe Etho was just sending the pictures for genuine questions. He would wait for him to fully make the move.

You
“No yeah, that’s normal! Should go down after a few days.”

Unsaved Contact
“let me guess, you have something that isnt going down.”

Okay.

Fuck it.

If he was getting fired, hopefully he would get some dick first.

You
“Etho”

“You make it so hard to do my job”

Unsaved Contact
“just give up”

“you think i dont feel your eyes on me every practive”

“would be creepy if you weren’t so weirdly attractive”

Bdubs scoffed. He thought of himself as just attractive, not weirdly attractive. He was shocked to see Etho being so unrestrained, absent of his usual humility.

You
“Since when was Etho so blunt?

Unsaved Contact
“when i know what i want”

He groaned, turning his head to scream into the pillow a little bit. How did the man know just the things to do and say, to burrow deeper into his head? He trailed his hand from his abdomen down to the sensitive expanse of his hips, further beneath the covers. The first roll of his palm was heavenly through the fabric of his boxers. He typed a response with his left hand, cursing as he fumbled around and pressed other keys.

You
“I fiucking hate yoiu”

Unsaved Contact
“struggling to type with one hand?”

“thought you would last less til you started touching yourself, im impressed dubs”

It was not enough. He was shivering at Etho’s taunts and it felt so good, but he needed so much more. Bdubs was practically straining in his boxers, whimpering at the abrasion. He shrugged off his shirt and gasped at the tug on his nipples. It was inconceivable that he was so desperate already.

You
“Shut up”

“Let me hear you”

The replies were now coming instantly, and Bdubs wanted to hear his voice so bad.

Unsaved Contact
“ im not alone in my room”

Bdubs froze, just as he broke his waistband. Was Etho texting him from Joel’s room? He was suddenly infuriated with Joel, jealous of him having seen more of the captain than Bdubs had.

You
“Don’t tell me you're at Joels”

Unsaved Contact
“what makes you say that”

You
“Heard you guys talking”

“Practically grinding on each other after practice”

Unsaved Contact
“hah he wishes”

“we had a couple nights”

“nothing more”

He did not want to think about what that made Bdubs, just a one-night thing? He’d think about that later.

Unsaved Contact
“so you were there after practice”

You
“That guy is so full of himself”

“Not worth it at all”

Unsaved Contact
“careful he might hear you”

You
“You mean youre sending thirstraps and fucking getting off in the same room as him?”

Unsaved Contact
“he’s passed out on the couch, we’re okay”

“and no, im actually quite soft hearing all this fragile masculinity jealousy talk”

You
“Eat my ass Etho”

Unsaved Contact
“another time maybe”

This was too much for Bdubs. He felt like he was floating at the thought that Etho could have Joel in a heartbeat, and here he was flirting with Bdubs without abandon. And the thought of Etho behind him, spreading him open, filling him with warmth, that was too much. The trainer could imagine glancing back to see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

Bdubs came to the conclusion that Etho could have him however he wanted, as long as the man was touching him.

He finally gripped the base of his cock and moaned loudly. His skin was so hot, he needed the coolness of Etho’s skin back on him. He scrambled for his phone with his other hand and finally wrote a truthful admission.

You
“Fuck I need you so bad”

Unsaved Contact
“show me”

Bdubs could not believe he was doing this. He shoved his boxers to his knees and his cock sprung out into the warm air. Desire was evident in the beading of pre at the crest of its dark pink head and the veins that stuck out. The blanket covered most of his thighs, except for where a sliver of brown skin peeked where his thigh met his hip. Curls of hair fanned out around the base. The man tried to ignore how he throbbed as he brought up the camera to take it. Fuck, he wished he could see Etho’s reaction.

You
*sent a photo*

A reply took longer than normal, and he had the sense to get a little anxious. Bdubs’s eyes flickered between their chat and the slow rise and fall of his hand on his cock.

Unsaved Contact
“fuck”

“i dont think i could take that”

“god but i need you inside of me”

“i know it will make you feel better when i tell you you’re bigger than joel”

You
“Oh no babyy you definitely could”

“It doesnt make me feel betterr because I want my cock to be the only one you ride”

Unsaved Contact
“i wish i could hear you say that”

Bdubs was panting as he increased the speed, clenching the base as he rose up and swiped over the head. It was harsh at first, calluses from weights on his hands oversensitive on soft skin, but he was leaking at Etho’s confessions. Warmth was seeping in from all angles. He wanted to tell him everything fully.

He managed to swipe through his phone with a clean hand and pull up the camera app. The angle was high, his damp chest and the sweat collecting in rivulets in the grooves of his toned stomach. Bdubs ran a hand through his tousled hair and acknowledged the heavy blush on his cheeks and lidded eyes. There were always brimming thoughts of negative self-confidence, but never had he felt so attractive. He slid the blankets down a bit more, gripped his heavy cock, and pressed record.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” he breathed out harshly as he began stroking his cock faster. “Fuck, Etho, you make me insane.” His voice rang out deep and breathy into the silence of the room, loud only in the slickness of his hand and his grunts. It felt almost natural talking to him like this.

“I-I keep replaying when you whimpered on the bench-“ he admitted. “Ohh, I bet you did that on purpose.” Bdubs tilted his head back and moaned embarrassingly loud when he pressed that one spot beneath his head. “I- ah- know I’d treat you so much better than Joel,” He felt the heat pooling in his stomach and started grinding upwards into his hand.

He glanced at his phone, taking in his bitten lips and the lashes brushing his cheekbones and grinned. A notification slid down from Etho’s number and Bdubs struggled to pull it down to expand the message he sent with one hand.

Unsaved Number
“working so i can take you”
*sent an image*

“Oh- shit baby, fuck!” Bdubs groaned loudly at seeing a view of the underside of Etho’s red, straining cock while he had three fingers deep into his ass. Bdubs’s strokes were now frantic, the image ingrained in his mind as he shut his eyes. The thought of his cock being squeezed by Etho’s pale cheeks as he bent him over the bed. The captain’s fingers were thin already, how was it possible that his rim looked like it was being stretched impossibly with only three fingers? It would feel so good and he chased that fantasy, holding onto Etho’s whimper as his back arched off the bed and he came all over his stomach, vision whitening with flickers of stars.

He stroked himself through it, groaning and whimpering as it became too much, the slickness covering the backs of his knuckles and smearing across his abs. It felt too good to stop but he slowly winded down. He had tensed his glutes so tightly he felt the ache now.

When Bdubs returned his gaze to the phone to see he was a mess and he chuckled. “I-I Better not see this on pornhub, this shit is just for you. Now let me hear you say thank you.” He ended the recording and sent it, grabbing kleenex from the night stand to half-ass clean up his stomach.

A response followed in about 3 minutes, enough time for the post nut clarity to hit like a bullet train.

“I’m so freakin screwed,” He said to no one.

He’d fallen. He needed this so bad. He would never see Etho again in the same way, and this wouldn’t be solved with just a one night stand. And he was going to lose his job. So, he solved the problem by finishing whatever was left in the bottle and rolling up his boxers and figuring it was a tomorrow problem.

When he returned to his phone after pondering the universe, he was surprised to see multiple messages.

Unsaved Contact
“shit bdubs you’re so hot”

“your smile fuck you”

“im so glad i took those shots to text you”

“need you so bad”

“thank you thank you thank you”

“hope joel didn’t hear me moan your name when i came”

“fuck come back you better not be having post nut clarity”

“bdubs”

You
“Hey”

“Did you like the video?”

Unsaved Contact
“mr. bdoubleO are you kidding me?? that’s going in my private folder and im pulling it out every night”

You
“Oh no”

“I think I’m gonna theow upp”

Unsaved Contact
“are you okay??”

You
“Too much whiskey”

“Oh false alarm”

“Why are you always checking on me I'm supposed to check on you.”

“You better not have worsened your hamstring muscle after that buddy”

Unsaved Contact
“nono im okay”

With a lull in the conversation Bdubs really thought about it.

He did not want to lose this job. There was no way that they would be able to have a relationship, real or not, without anyone knowing. And as much as he did want Etho for his own, he realized that the job took priority. A one time thing they could cover up, but he knew he would never be able to give up Etho. Especially with his complicated relationship with Joel. The best Bdubs could do would be to move on.

And maybe the whiskey coerced him to make the decision irrationally, or maybe it was his fear of losing something so good without even trying for it. Without fully comprehending it, he had typed and sent it out.

You
“I don’t think we should do this.”

“I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Goodnight.”

He shut off his phone completely and closed his eyes before he could think about what he just lost.