m/m Deano's Summer: A Muscle University Story

[BrzNLA]

Great chapter Mate. Awesome set up for Deano to get into more trouble. I can’t wait to see what happens on their night out.

FYI, I forgot how anxious I get waiting for a new chapter to be posted. Five chapters in, the anxiety and impatience is back. Thanks mate!

[muscleaddict]

17 hours ago, BrzNLA said:

Great chapter Mate. Awesome set up for Deano to get into more trouble. I can’t wait to see what happens on their night out.

FYI, I forgot how anxious I get waiting for a new chapter to be posted. Five chapters in, the anxiety and impatience is back. Thanks mate!

Haha - bless you, mate. Well I don't plan to keep you waiting too long in between chapters (if I can help it)! 

[Lefty]

Nothing hotter than a horny, drunk bodybuilder!

[Mdlftr]

I'm just starting to read this, after coming late to the other series and reading it in one go.

 

So, DEANO!  The Twat-faced "Pocket Rocket"!  Interesting!  He's the other resident at Muscle Uni who seems to have a personality that is instantly recognizable!

Great characterizations and terrific internal monologue, like this one from PART 2: [First Night home, Out with the lads] 

=========snip=========

“Do you have to wear those shiny little pants?” Captain America asks, joining in the conversation. I smirk and shake my head.

“MY mate - he does competitions …” Smithy interrupts loudly. “And those little trunks he wears on stage … he sells them for, like, a hundred quid to gay guys on Instagram!”

I take a swig of my drink, not making eye contact with anyone and trying to ignore the twisting feeling in my stomach.

“NO fucking way!” Captain America cries.

“So Deano - are you, like, all shredded and shit under that t-shirt?” Smithy asks me. 

Josh gives me a knowing smirk.

“Come on. Let’s see your abs!” Captain America says. Before I have time to respond, the cheeky bastard grabs the bottom of my t-shirt and lifts it up.

“WOAH!"

“What the FUCK?”

I feel a heady rush at the lads' reactions to my stomach muscles. Still with one hand lifting my t-shirt up, Smithy starts slapping my midsection with his other hand. It’s such a foreign sensation. Having a guy’s warm strong hand touching my abs in that way. It does something weird to me. I don’t really know why. Or maybe I do. 

==============snip===================

 

Hmmm.. I'm thinking  his name should be "Ramesses" not "Deano" ---- cause he's the King of de-nial!  

"Or maybe I do."

Seriously?! 

<Eye role----Keeps reading..........>

[muscleaddict]

Six

“That fucking prick, Nick!” 

That’s about the fifth time Tony has said that. Nick (my other oldest school friend and one-third of the self-named Three Musketeers) refused to come out drinking because, like me, he has to work tomorrow.

“But YOU, you fucking legend!” Tony shouts as he grabs my shoulders with both hands, before the mad cunt tries to jump on top of me as we’re walking up a busy, rowdy North Street.

“Fuckin’ hell, Tone,” I say, laughing.

It’s been nice to see Tony. It’s felt like old times for the most part. But there's also been times where it’s felt like something is different. Like a piece of the puzzle that makes up our friendship has gotten lost. Like something’s shifted or changed. Maybe it’s just me who’s changed.

“JEEEZUS!” some random lad shouts as he walks towards me with a group. “Look at the biceps on THAT!”

Tony looks at me and grins.

“Lads!” I say with a nod, as they walk up to me.

The guy grabs my right arm and starts slapping and squeezing it. “Fucking JACKED! Respect, mate!” he says. Then he starts hitting jokey most musculars as he walks off.

“DEANO!” Tony says, with his arms outstretched as we get to the top of the street.

“You’re more wasted than I am!” I say, laughing.

“DEAN-O-OH! DEAN-O-OH!” he started chanting loudly. This is just typical Tony. He’s like this when he’s sober too.

He gives me a big man hug and says goodbye. As I watch him stumble towards the train station, I feel this unexpected sense of relief. A group of girls walk past me, looking at me, smiling and giggling. But I don’t smile back. One of the girls wolf whistles and they stumble off, laughing.

I’m feeling pretty fucking hammered. I’ve drank multiple shots and pints, plus whatever that shit was of dad’s I drank back at the house. A buzz is going through my body. Drunk people are around me. It’s half-past eleven. I have work tomorrow. I should keep walking straight. I’ll be home in twenty minutes. “Oggy oggy oggy. Oi oi oi!” My chest fills up. A mix of adrenaline and nerves surges through me. I make sure Tony’s out of sight, then I turn around, walk back down North Street and head in the direction of the pier. 

This part of town feels so different at night. I’m more pissed than I was when I was here at the weekend. A lot more pissed. I can see the entrance to that club I walked past on Saturday night, after Josh pissed me off and I walked out on him and his mates. I can see the bouncers. And people standing around outside. More people than last time. What am I doing here? Fucking hell. I’m so drunk. But I’m so determined.

I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get to the door of that club. When I get to those bouncers. I don’t know what the fuck’s going to happen for the rest of this night.

I’m slowing down. The bouncer clocks me. A beefy bald fella. He’s taller than me and he’s pretty big, but he’s no bodybuilder. His eyes widen when he sees me. But I keep it cool. I keep walking towards the entrance. Pissed. Determined. Nervous. Kind of excited. But all the time still wondering - what the fuck am I doing here?

The bouncer nods and gives me a little, ominous smile. And suddenly I’m in. And I’m walking up some stairs. I can hear the music. Feel the bass. Some lads walk passed me. Both slim. Pretty boys. Nothing like me. They shoot each other weird judgemental looks at the sight of me. WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?

And when I walk into the club area and head towards the bar, that question keeps going round in my head. Because I don’t fit in here. I don’t belong. The music. The people. It’s not my world. And yet, there’s something keeping me here. There’s something that makes me want to stay.

I’m standing by the bar and Jesus - people are looking. No - people are staring. Properly fucking staring. Less subtle than they do in straight places. Fuck knows what they’re thinking. What’s he doing in here? Does he know it’s a gay club? He’s so big. That’s gross. He must be on roids. But maybe some of them are having other kinds of thoughts. 

I order a vodka and coke. The barman looks as equally surprised to see me as the bouncer did but there’s a little smirk on his face. And a glint in his eyes. He’s a good looking lad, but I don’t really feel anything beyond that. After all, I see good looking lads all the time. Every day at uni. And every day at my dad’s gym.

I feel kind of safe standing at the bar. But when my drink arrives, I have no excuse to be here, so I start to walk, and as people are staring at me again, the feeling that I don’t belong here, in this world, intensifies.

And then I hear it. Someone shouts, “Steroids!” in a stupid, loud voice and FUCK this shit. I walk away from the bar and dancefloor and into a corridor to get the hell out of here and suddenly some stupidly tall guy in a V neck white t-shirt is standing right in front of me. 

“WOAH!” he says, scanning me up and down. He’s not a bodybuilder, but he’s pretty beefy. He’s good looking too. I’m guessing late twenties. Maybe even older.

“Hello!” he says to me, his mouth curling into a smirk. This surprised, kind of excited smirk. Like he can’t believe what’s standing in front of him.

“Alright!”

And oh my God. The way he’s looking at me. I don’t think any guy has ever looked at me like this before. Like he wants me. Maybe one guy once before. When we were sitting on his bed in just our posing trunks and he apparently got caught up in a moment. My chest tightens.

The guy’s leaning into me and asking me what my name is. His face is close to mine. And now his hand is on my waist. And his lips are coming towards mine. And fucking hell. I’m kissing him. I’m kissing this ridiculously tall guy who’s kind of good looking and whose mouth tastes like beer and whose pressing his groin against mine. And it’s happening. And it’s a moment. But I’m kind of freaking out. Because I don’t think it’s a moment I want to be happening. Not here. In this world where I don’t belong. Not with this guy. This ridiculously tall guy whose mouth tastes like beer.

We part lips and he’s smirking at me. “Fuck!” he says, his face lighting up. He’s keen. So, so keen. 

“Back in a sec,” I tell him.

Something flickers in his expression. 

“Okay!” he says, nodding. But I can see he’s disappointed. Maybe he knows. Maybe he can sense what I’m about to do. I turn the corner, leave my glass on the floor, walk down the stairs and leave the club.

For a second I feel perfectly fine when I wake up in my bed a few hours later. And then it suddenly hits me. My head throbs. And my stomach is suddenly churning. Fuck. I jump out of bed, rush to the bathroom and throw up in the sink. And now I’m perched on the edge of the bath clutching the sink and hoping I don’t throw up again. A horrible sick taste in my mouth. Jesus. It's been ages since I've felt this bad after drinking.

“What the FUCK?!”

Oh shit. I look up. My dad’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Looking scary as fuck in his navy blue dressing gown. Staring at me in disbelief.

“You bloody idiot!” he says, shaking his head. He’s not shouting, presumably because it’s the middle of the night and he doesn't want to wake Josh up.

I don’t say anything. I’m just gripping the sink. My head throbbing. “You are NOT bloody getting out of work tomorrow. I want you up in three hours!”

I want to scream at him to fuck off. There is no fucking way I’m going to work tomorrow feeling like this.

“Three hours, Deano. I mean it!” 

I go back to bed, but I barely sleep. I feel fucking awful. I know I’m not going to be able to work tomorrow. Not in the fucking state I’m in. But before I know it, my dad’s banging on my bedroom door shouting my name. I look at my phone. It’s seven-thirty. My head's still spinning. And I still feel fucking drunk. I ignore my dad and stay lying in bed, wishing for the whole world to just fuck off and die.

And then my bedroom door opens and my dad is storming in. “Get up NOW! I’m not playing around, Deano!”

And now’s he’s yanking at my duvet and pulling it off me and the bed.

“I can’t. Dad - please!”

“Fucking GET OUT OF BED!” he shouts. Then he whacks me hard across my shins. “In that shower now. I bloody warned you, Deano!” 

I know my dad’s not playing around. I get up and take a shower. I feel like I’m dying. I don’t know how I’m gonna get through a day of working at the gym feeling like this. 

I sit in my dad’s Land Rover, trying to ignore the fact that I feel sick. He’s not shouting any more, but I can tell he’s still pissed off at me.

As we drive to the gym, I start to feel worse. My stomach feels like it’s being twisted from the inside. And then. Oh shit.

“Dad!”

He ignores me.

“Dad - I think I’m gonna be sick!”

“Oh for fuck - DO NOT BE SICK IN THIS CAR!” he shouts. 

It's the last thing I want to do, but I don’t think I can stop it. My dad parks in a lay-by and I get out, run to a black bin in the street and throw up behind it.

I get back in my dad’s car. My mouth tastes like sick. My hands smells like sick. My head is still throbbing. I just want to crawl back into bed and curl up into a ball until this feeling comes to a stop.

My dad sighs and shakes his head. “Fuck’s sake, Deano!” he says calmly.

I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. Wishing for this feeling to stop. I actually feel like I might start crying.

“I’m sorry!” I say.

My dad sighs again. “Couldn’t you have just waited one more night to go out? You couldn’t get away with this shit if you had a proper job.”

My dad starts up the car. “You can’t work at the gym like this,” he says in a kinder tone.

I feel relieved. But it doesn’t make me feel any less like shit. At least my dad’s not shouting any more.

“You’re working at that expo next weekend with Big Steve!” he says sternly.

“Okay,” I say, leaning back again, my eyes closed. Praying I manage to get home without needing to be sick again.

“And you’re going out with Josh and your mum.”

I open my eyes and look at him. “What?!”

He looks at me sternly.

I tip my head back and close my eyes again. “You can’t make me,” I say, stubbornly.

“I BLOODY CAN!” he barks. Then he breathes a deep sigh. “Just one afternoon, Deano. You can’t stay mad at her forever. She’s your mum!”

“She’s a shit mum,” I mumble.

“OI!” my dad shouts. But then he gives me this sympathetic look.

“She’s still your mum!”

I go straight back to bed when my dad drops me home. But I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about what happened last night. Seeing that picture of Woody and Luke on Instagram. Necking dad’s bottle. Going to that club. Where I didn’t belong. Kissing that guy. That strong feeling that it wasn’t what I wanted. 

God - I wish I’d never fucking gone. I wish I could rewind time and just redo the whole night. Not check Instagram. Not go out. Not stumble into that gay club and end of kissing someone who wasn’t Sebastian Wood. Kissing a guy who can’t compare to him. 

And a kiss which can’t compare to when I kissed him on his bed and we were both just wearing our posing trunks. My shoulder against his. His tongue in my mouth. The smell of him. His hard, pumped mass on mine. Pecs on pecs. Abs pressed together. How I felt like I was going to explode in my velvet posing trunks at any moment. How it felt like my insides were on fire.

No one’s ever made me feel that way before. And they certainly haven’t since. Maybe no ever will.

[stewbake]

This is some fine writing! the feeling when you step into a club for the first time not wanting to fit in but knowing you do... it's too familiar! And Brighton! love it!

[muscleaddict]

13 minutes ago, stewbake said:

This is some fine writing! the feeling when you step into a club for the first time not wanting to fit in but knowing you do... it's too familiar! And Brighton! love it!

Thank you, matie. No doubt you have a good idea of what Revenge looks like from the inside so you can visualise the scenes pretty accurately too! 

[Ozymandias]

Poor Deano, in love with Woody. He needs to find a new man...

[muscleaddict]

5 minutes ago, Ozymandias said:

Poor Deano, in love with Woody. He needs to find a new man...

Maybe there's a bodybuilder he used to go to school with working in his local Tesco's and bursting out of his work uniform? 

[stewbake]

17 minutes ago, muscleaddict said:

Thank you, matie. No doubt you have a good idea of what Revenge looks like from the inside so you can visualise the scenes pretty accurately too! 

Haha sure do, I remember a few hot and steamy nights in there...even in the middle of winter