...Kyle rounded the counter, smiling that killer smile of his. “I’ll set you up a routine using free weights. Any experience with them, Brendan?”

“Not much,” he said. “Just a few barbell curls for my biceps.”

Kyle turned toward him and, in the mirror behind the rack, Brendan glimpsed the bulge in his shorts.

Man, what he must be packing… Brendan was definitely horny. It had been a while since he’d had sex. And allowing himself to flirt with, to lust, for someone else felt exhilarating.

“That’s a good start,” Kyle said, “but you’ll be an expert by the time I get through with you.” He grinned again and Brendan almost wet himself—those dazzling eyes behind a forest of black lashes, that tanned skin, strong nose and square chin made him feel as if he were turning to jelly.

“How ’bout we get started?”

“Lead the way, Kyle.”

Kyle crossed to the decline bench and loaded the bar with two twenty-five-pound plates. “Just a warm-up set at this weight. Here,” he said, straddling the bench, “let me show you how it’s done.”

I wish you would… Brendan tittered inside. You are so bad!

As Kyle positioned himself under the bar, Brendan imagined himself straddling the man’s narrow hips, resting his butt atop those massive thighs. Then they were naked, and Kyle was splitting his ass with that big cock of his, Brendan riding it like he was going somewhere in a hurry.

Damn, it’s been too long since you had some…

“You watching?”

Brendan smirked and focused his attention on Kyle’s pecs as he demonstrated the decline press. “Keep your grip wide to work your chest,” he said. Kyle swung himself from under the bar and stood, offering Brendan the bench. He positioned himself as Kyle moved to the head of the bench to spot for him.

Kyle helped Brendan lift the bar off, and Brendan did the reduced-weight practice set with ease, lowering and pressing, lowering and pressing—as he snuck a peek up Kyle’s shorts.

Brendan nearly let go of the bar when he caught sight of the bulbous tip of Kyle’s dick dangling near the hemline.

Commando! Oh, yeah!

Kyle grinned at him and helped him rack the bar. Rising from the bench, Brendan’s face flushed with heat, but Kyle was still smiling, a bit devilishly, he thought.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe he was reading into it. Lots of guys skipped the skivvies. But not all of them grinned like alligators when they caught someone looking up their shorts. He really didn’t know what to think. He decided to play it by ear, see if it was just his wishful thinking—or maybe something more.

Kyle headed over to the dumbbell rack, and Brendan watched the trainer’s muscular ass cheeks caress each other beneath the silky material of his shorts. Kyle demonstrated a triceps kickback, but all Brendan could think of was burying his face between the man’s powerful butt cheeks and feasting on that tangy, manly hole of his.

Brendan accepted the dumbbell from him and emulated his form. He caught Kyle looking not at the back of his arms, but at his backside. Then Kyle saw him in the mirror and smiled again. He turned red but said nothing. He seemed to be toying with Brendan and enjoying every minute of it.

Brendan let his form slip, and Kyle grasped his arm to move it back into the proper position. “Give it a good squeeze at the end of the movement. You’ll get your best burn that way.”

“Right, right.” The best burn Brendan could imagine would be Kyle’s hot cock searing his tight little asshole in the locker room.

Stop it, Brendan! He shook his head as if to clear the rush of hormones surging through his brain. But the flood returned in full force, along with the flotsam of doubt.