Promises, promises...
4/18/05 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxy...I've been promising Brex for a while now, and I haven't been holding out, I've been poking it along. So, today, two Brex in...well--two. There's a short Brex interlude in Dis and this thing--a short little story about...heh--jerking off basically. It's about 14 very, very short parts. Let's start with part one , shall we?
.
Strange Boys or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Game.
Bruce held the bag between his gloved fists and rested his head against the worn leather. Sweat rolled down his face and the bag, and he was pretty sure he was tired enough to sleep tonight.
“See ya Bruce, clean up?” a voice called out—the coach leaving for the night. Going home to his family, probably. Family. Bruce felt a pang as he thought of the coach’s pretty wife and pretty kids—they probably lived in a nice house. Bet he had a golden retriever, bet he drove a van….
He leaned back from the bag and pulled the gloves off. He wiped his dripping face and grimaced, he stank of sweat and the gym.
He was tired, but good tired. He was looking forward to a good sleep tonight. Pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes, he leaned down and grabbed the mats, pulling them to the wall. He’d gotten all of them squared away except for the ones in the far corner, when a creaking noise made him look to find the source of it—it’d been going on a while he realized, he’d just now became aware of it.
A kid was on the rings; going through a simple routine while an older classmate it looked like, couched him through it. Oh, him. He knew the kid on the rings, more precisely knew *of* him--he was hard to miss, that one, considering he was bald.
Bruce picked up a towel from the pile next to the bench and began to wipe his face and neck with it. He pulled it over his face, stopped halfway through the movement. There was something interesting in this routine. The effort involved was evident in the play of muscle over the kid’s body. He looked kind of thin and weedy dressed, but he was actually in pretty good shape. The jump and stretch of muscle in his arms and chest fascinated him, so different from the muscles called into play for boxing. Bruce wanted to know suddenly what it felt like, hanging in the air like that, your body fighting to stay aloft…the kid pulled his legs up straight as arrows, his toes pointed---pulled his legs up until the were parallel to the floor.
“Good job, Lex good job.”
Bruce watched him move, watched his face. The boy was so concentrated on what he was doing Bruce was certain he didn’t know he was there. Lex frowned and his brows drew together, his neck was corded from the effort of holding his arms straight. And as Bruce watched he sucked in his lower lip and held it, he breathed hard through his nose, making his nostrils flare. Bruce tore his eyes away. For some reason it seemed too intimate a look to stare at. His eyes drifted, he watched stomach muscles clench and unclench, his eyes traveled over his chest, he could see nipples hard against the material of the tank Lex wore, he found himself watching the bump in the spandex pants and his fingers twitched. He realized he’d been holding the towel against his face the entire time and he could hear himself breathing. He turned and blushed…he was a little hard.
“ Okay, Lex—you’re doing great.”
Bruce snuck a look towards the rings. The kid grinned briefly at the other guy, so swiftly it almost seemed not to happen, and swung out, let go and landed lightly on his feet, head tilted back, eyes closed and arms lifted-- listening to imaginary crowds applauding, Bruce thought and snorted softly, but even Bruce could see that it was a good dismount.
“Nice,” the other grinned and threw an arm around him. “You’re getting better. See you here tomorrow, right?”
Lex looked up at the older boy and smiled. He nodded, standing under the other’s arm. Bruce could see him squeeze the boy’s shoulder and walk off. Lex stared after a moment before leaving the gym without glancing Bruce’s way. Even from where he’d stood, Bruce could see heat between the two. Sex. Bruce frowned. They were probably doing it. Doing it--Sex was just a confusing pain in the ass. Glad he wasn’t bothered with that crap.
part two coming up
ETA: typing is the Devil
.
Strange Boys or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Game.
Bruce held the bag between his gloved fists and rested his head against the worn leather. Sweat rolled down his face and the bag, and he was pretty sure he was tired enough to sleep tonight.
“See ya Bruce, clean up?” a voice called out—the coach leaving for the night. Going home to his family, probably. Family. Bruce felt a pang as he thought of the coach’s pretty wife and pretty kids—they probably lived in a nice house. Bet he had a golden retriever, bet he drove a van….
He leaned back from the bag and pulled the gloves off. He wiped his dripping face and grimaced, he stank of sweat and the gym.
He was tired, but good tired. He was looking forward to a good sleep tonight. Pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes, he leaned down and grabbed the mats, pulling them to the wall. He’d gotten all of them squared away except for the ones in the far corner, when a creaking noise made him look to find the source of it—it’d been going on a while he realized, he’d just now became aware of it.
A kid was on the rings; going through a simple routine while an older classmate it looked like, couched him through it. Oh, him. He knew the kid on the rings, more precisely knew *of* him--he was hard to miss, that one, considering he was bald.
Bruce picked up a towel from the pile next to the bench and began to wipe his face and neck with it. He pulled it over his face, stopped halfway through the movement. There was something interesting in this routine. The effort involved was evident in the play of muscle over the kid’s body. He looked kind of thin and weedy dressed, but he was actually in pretty good shape. The jump and stretch of muscle in his arms and chest fascinated him, so different from the muscles called into play for boxing. Bruce wanted to know suddenly what it felt like, hanging in the air like that, your body fighting to stay aloft…the kid pulled his legs up straight as arrows, his toes pointed---pulled his legs up until the were parallel to the floor.
“Good job, Lex good job.”
Bruce watched him move, watched his face. The boy was so concentrated on what he was doing Bruce was certain he didn’t know he was there. Lex frowned and his brows drew together, his neck was corded from the effort of holding his arms straight. And as Bruce watched he sucked in his lower lip and held it, he breathed hard through his nose, making his nostrils flare. Bruce tore his eyes away. For some reason it seemed too intimate a look to stare at. His eyes drifted, he watched stomach muscles clench and unclench, his eyes traveled over his chest, he could see nipples hard against the material of the tank Lex wore, he found himself watching the bump in the spandex pants and his fingers twitched. He realized he’d been holding the towel against his face the entire time and he could hear himself breathing. He turned and blushed…he was a little hard.
“ Okay, Lex—you’re doing great.”
Bruce snuck a look towards the rings. The kid grinned briefly at the other guy, so swiftly it almost seemed not to happen, and swung out, let go and landed lightly on his feet, head tilted back, eyes closed and arms lifted-- listening to imaginary crowds applauding, Bruce thought and snorted softly, but even Bruce could see that it was a good dismount.
“Nice,” the other grinned and threw an arm around him. “You’re getting better. See you here tomorrow, right?”
Lex looked up at the older boy and smiled. He nodded, standing under the other’s arm. Bruce could see him squeeze the boy’s shoulder and walk off. Lex stared after a moment before leaving the gym without glancing Bruce’s way. Even from where he’d stood, Bruce could see heat between the two. Sex. Bruce frowned. They were probably doing it. Doing it--Sex was just a confusing pain in the ass. Glad he wasn’t bothered with that crap.
part two coming up
ETA: typing is the Devil
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
4/18/05 07:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 07:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 07:41 pm (UTC)Yeah! I'm with Bruce! Boo and hiss to that silly sex! It messes everything up! Especially when it gets all sweaty. Noone wants that!
Except of oourse, the fact that Lex is soo easy to clean with just one's tongue....although I'm quite sure that a shower would be sufficient.
(no subject)
4/18/05 07:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 07:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 07:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 07:57 pm (UTC)*bounce bounce*
I like - like - like already!
Yes yes.
:)
(no subject)
4/18/05 07:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 09:23 pm (UTC)Social values are SO passe.
:)
Heeeeeee.
Ummmm.
Who is 'Charlie'??
He's cute.
(no subject)
4/18/05 10:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/18/05 11:51 pm (UTC)I haven't seen it.
Guess i'd better - he's cuuuuuute!!
(no subject)
5/12/05 08:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/12/05 10:32 pm (UTC)