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Don’t give up. He twisted, taking Clint by surprise and catching his arm in a grip strong enough to throw him off. He doubted the move would work a second time from the way Clint sent him a feral grin as soon as he stopped rolling.
“You gonna stop playing around?” asked Clint, wiping a bit of spit from his lips. “Or is that really all you’ve got.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, little subby,” said Scotland, hauling himself back onto his feet. Mustering up every bit of courage, Scotland stalked ahead, raising up his arm as if to strike as soon as he closed the distance between them. Clint landed a punch of his own—a light tap on Scotland’s shoulder that barely zinged off his muscle.
Clint must’ve meant to hit hard, though. His eyes went wide as he stumbled, his weight off balance as he shuffled his feet. If Scotland hadn’t been training at the gym for a while he wouldn’t have noticed the opening it created for the brief flash of a second.
Scotland swept out his legs, catching both of Clint’s ankles and sending him tumbling. He hit ass first, letting out a soft gasp as he fell back, sprawling across the mats with his arms thrown wide.
It had never been so good to pounce. Scotland pinned Clint’s wrists above his head hauling them straight and high so Clint could barely struggle. When Clint tried to move, he straddled his hips, settling his full weight on Clint. Scotland felt his own arms bulge as he leaned in, refusing to let Clint move or escape.
The corner of Clint’s shirt rode up as he squirmed, their groins coming precariously close. The trail of blond hair on his belly was dark with sweat, his skin slippery with it. Scotland could almost taste it on his tongue, and on his breath, every sense filled to the brim with Clint.
“Got you,” said Scotland, unable to stop himself from leaning in and licking a stripe along Clint’s neck. He was salt and sweetness and every other good thing that Scotland knew. When he closed his eyes he could smell the hit of his own laundry detergent and soap. Home.
“It was a lucky shot,” said Clint, his struggles going weak as he let out a soft moan. “Let me up, and I’ll show you.”
Scotland shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think so. I like you like this—so vulnerable and soft.”
“You two need a minute?”
Scotland drew back at Maxim’s voice, flushing as he realized that he had been seconds away from making out with Clint like teenagers in the middle of the gym. Most of their audience had already taken off, although Garry was looking pretty darn invested in the outcome.
“We’ll hit the showers,” said Scotland, releasing Clint and offering him a hand as he rose to his feet. “I think there were a few guys done for the day, so we’ll keep it clean.”
Clint’s face was just as flushed as his own felt, his lower lip between his teeth as he stared at the ceiling, with his chest rising and falling fast. Scotland was going to fucking ruin him.
“Go ahead, baby. I’ll just have to ask Maxim about the schedule, then I’ll join you.” Scotland leaned down to drag his thumb over Clint’s lips, giving him the only kiss he could at the moment.
“Okay, Sir.” Clint staggered a bit as he rose to his feet, his gaze bleary and lost when he stumbled through a door clearly labeled ‘showers’.
“Can you keep everyone out of there for the next hour or so?” asked Scotland, giving Maxim a pointed look. “I’ll owe you a favor.”
Maxim cracked a smile, throwing an arm around him as Scotland ducked out of the ring. “An hour? You’re spoiling him.” He glanced at the closed door. “I’ve been thinking of a tattoo for Copley. You do that for us, and I’ll keep everyone out of there for the rest of the day.”
Scotland grinned, doing nothing to hide his semi. It was pointless. Besides, it happened all the time during workouts. Once the blood was flowing, the rest was a write-off.
“But what’s the schedule you’re talking about? I don’t know shit about that,” said Maxim, withdrawing his arm and wiping it with a towel. Okay, so, I’m a little sweaty.
“Nothing, man,” said Scotland. “I just didn’t want Clint to know the coast is clear. He’s gonna think someone is going to walk in on us at any time. Nothing like a bit of risk to spice things up. And hey, Maxim, one more thing…”
Chapter Twenty
Clint
Oh God. Clint shuddered, leaning his back against the nearest locker and sliding slowly to the ground. He’d never been so turned on in his life. Sore muscles and aching knees just added to the warmth in his gut and the thrumming through his veins. So good.
He couldn’t wait to get Scotland back to the farm and push him against the nearest surface. He didn’t care if he was the one getting fucked or if it was his turn to rail Scotland’s ass, but he was coming. There was no cock ring in the world that was going to stop him.
Dragging himself to his feet, he stumbled across the locker area around the corner where he presumed the showers would be. There were three of them, made up of nothing more than a tiled strip with drains carved into the floor and three spouts protruding from above.
With no walls or even curtains, it was like a dream. Even if he had to keep his hands to himself, he was certainly letting his gaze stray. Scotland had an amazing physique, but it would only be better soaking wet and with a bit of soap spiraling down his leg to the drain below.
Fuck, keeping it clean. Clint reached for himself, pressing the heel of his hand to his groin to try to ease the ache. Anticipation would only make it better. Plus, he could plan a surprise for Scotland and pounce on him as soon as they got to the lane at the farm. Clint could easily maneuver over the center console, straddle Scotland’s cock right there and let the bounce of the first pothole grind their cocks together.
He shucked off his track pants and T-shirt, tossing them on a bench outside the tiled area before toeing his shoes off and stepping into the shower. The first jet of water that hit him was freezing cold, pushing a gasp through his lips. It was probably for the best. Anything warm on him right now might just make him come.
His teeth chattered as the stream warmed to something much more reasonable, the water stripping the sweat from his skin as steam started to rise. He ducked his head under the water, turning toward the wall as he caught the sound of the shower room door opening and closing.
