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

[WashburnDaddy]

Really - this remains such believable writing so congratulations on this story so far Mr Author! The writing thus far shows a change of pace from the superb AJ & Noah and Muscle University and is really giving such a feeling for Deano's uncertainties and inner anguish. It resonates with a lot of my teenage (and later!) angst - not that I was ever a pocket sized bodybuilder! - but jeez, it has been like reliving some of those moments of frustration and reaction I went through as I stumbled through my journey of exploration and what, so often at the time, let like failure and isolation in myself. So this chapter, particularly, left me feeling really pensive and thoughtful.... 

[Lefty]

Another well crafted chapter that so expertly describes the anguish Deano is going through.  At the same time you hint that Ryan may be feeling the same.   Or is it Deano’s wishful thinking?

[Sjdmuscle]

Union Jack posing trunks?  Running that up the flag pole?  Sounds pretty outrageous to me!

I guess it's more crispy socks under the bed!!!  At this rate, Deano will never get a comfortable night's sleep!

[brawnygods]

On 6/28/2020 at 8:35 AM, muscleaddict said:

“You don’t wanna hear about my girlfriend drama!” he says.

I'm sure she's a fine girl and all but muscle likes muscle and Ryan shouldn't light a pocket rocket's fuse if he doesn't want that rocket to launch!

[Sjdmuscle]

10, 9, 8, 7...........

[muscleaddict]

On 6/29/2020 at 12:07 PM, WashburnDaddy said:

Really - this remains such believable writing so congratulations on this story so far Mr Author! The writing thus far shows a change of pace from the superb AJ & Noah and Muscle University and is really giving such a feeling for Deano's uncertainties and inner anguish. It resonates with a lot of my teenage (and later!) angst - not that I was ever a pocket sized bodybuilder! - but jeez, it has been like reliving some of those moments of frustration and reaction I went through as I stumbled through my journey of exploration and what, so often at the time, let like failure and isolation in myself. So this chapter, particularly, left me feeling really pensive and thoughtful.... 

Thanks for the awesome feedback, mate. I wasn't necessarily aiming to do so but I think parts of this definitely turned out a little darker and more introspective than the previous stories. I would actually like to push that a bit further in future stories. It's been great to write something where the main character is really going through something. 

[muscleaddict]

9 hours ago, brawnygods said:

I'm sure she's a fine girl and all but muscle likes muscle and Ryan shouldn't light a pocket rocket's fuse if he doesn't want that rocket to launch!

Woody...Liam "The Guns" Watson...Ryan North. All these lads that Deano keeps falling for that he can't have/don't want him back. You'd think he'd have learnt by now? 

[Sjdmuscle]

30 minutes ago, muscleaddict said:

Thanks for the awesome feedback, mate. I wasn't necessarily aiming to do so but I think parts of this definitely turned out a little darker and more introspective than the previous stories. I would actually like to push that a bit further in future stories. It's been great to write something where the main character is really going through something. 

Keep flexing those gray cells! Still no sex yet! I guess we'll have to wait for chapter 13!

[DennisFLL]

1 hour ago, muscleaddict said:

Thanks for the awesome feedback, mate. I wasn't necessarily aiming to do so but I think parts of this definitely turned out a little darker and more introspective than the previous stories. I would actually like to push that a bit further in future stories. It's been great to write something where the main character is really going through something. 

Tough coming-out story for Deano.  A lot of your reading fans can identify; though perhaps in different ways.  

[muscleaddict]

Twelve

“Big Steve’s coming to pick you at seven-thirty on Saturday!” my dad says to me from the driving seat of his Land Rover.

“What?!” I cry. “Are you serious?” 

He shoots me a wide-eyed look. “Won’t bloody hurt you to get up early for once.”

I let out a groan. My dad imitates me with a big, loud groan which I can’t help smiling at. Saturday is the day of the bodybuilding expo in London. And all going well, I’ll get to see Ryan compete in the evening. I’ll get to see him crunch his perfect abs, tense his shredded quads, blow up his bronzed biceps and show off his big round glutes in whatever colour posers he’ll choose to wear.

“We don’t have to wear those Deano’s Gym t-shirts do we?”

“Yes you pissing well do!” he barks. “You’ll wear that poncey bloody Montgomery University hoodie but you won’t wear a t-shirt with the name of your dad’s gym on it?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

He gives me a sharp look. “Thanks a bleedin’ lot!” He actually looks a little offended. I wonder if I’ve gone too far. 

“Try having YOU for a son. That’s bloody embarrassing!”

“Yeah yeah!” I mutter. And now I’m thinking about what Ryan said to me the other day when I was next to him on his sofa. That dad always talks about me. And hardly never about Josh. And now I’m smirking. I can’t help it.

“What are YOU smirking at?”

I widen my eyes and shrug as if to say nothing and he just looks at me suspiciously with his eyes narrowed.

“Are any of your uni mates going to the expo?”

I screw my face up and shrug. I turn away and look out of the side window, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in my stomach. Because now I’m wondering again whether there’s a possibility that they’ll be there. What if I actually run into Woody and Henderson at the expo on Saturday? I try to push the thought to the back of my mind.

“Most of them live up North,” I say quietly.

“Don’t bloody blame ‘em! Cost of house prices down here.”

“Can I work on the gym floor today?” I ask, my stomach twinging with nerves.

“As long as you don’t spend all day nattering to Ryan. Swapping hairstyle tips.”

“Is he in today?” I ask, not looking at my dad. My stomach clenching further.

“Think so. Yeah - he is. He’s got a client this morning!”

I bite my lip, trying to cover up my smile. I haven’t seen Ryan for the past few days. Not since I went to his flat and sat next to him on his sofa. Not since I sat in his car and told him I got suspended from university. 

I still can’t believe I did that. There have been moments over the past few days where I’ve regretted telling him. I never really open to people like that. Not even my two oldest school mates, Tony and Nick know I got suspended. But, I dunno, there’s something different about Ryan. I didn’t plan to tell him, but I think maybe I kind of sensed that he’d be okay with it.

I’m excited to see him again. But, for whatever reason, the thought of doing so is making me feel oddly nervous. 

“Your brother's seeing your mum this afternoon!” my dad tells me.

“Great!” I mumble, pulling a face.

“They’re taking Chloe to Preston Park.” 

I feel a sharp tug in my stomach and my dad looks at me wide-eyed.

“You can have the afternoon off if you want!” he says, looking at me pointedly. “Hmmm? Go with them!” 

I shake my head, roll my eyes and look out of the window again to the sea.

“And you better bloody behave yourself at Josh’s barbecue!”

For fuck’s sake. Will my dad ever stop treating me like a fucking kid?

“No sneaking out of the house to see twat face Tony like you did when she came round after Christmas!”

“Will there be alcohol?”

He shoots me a stern look. “And NO getting pissed and making a show of yourself either!”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’ll just get pissed and tell her what I think of her?” I say, smirking to myself.

“You better bloody NOT!” 

I feel so nervous when I’m walking into the gym with my dad. Which is fucking ridiculous. Because I see Ryan practically every day. But I guess, after the other day, things have changed now. It feels like there’s been some sort of cosmic shift in our friendship.

I jump behind the desk on the gym floor, trying not to make it look like I’m actively looking for Ryan. Even though I know he’s here somewhere. I can almost sense his presence. 

And just as I open up my dad’s laptop, I spot him. Standing over his client who’s doing a set on the bench press. Wearing a tight fitted black t-shirt. One hand clasped over his fist in the way he often does. His huge, croquet ball biceps bulging. His thick triceps sticking out. (Jesus.) Looking as stupidly good looking as he always does. Six foot Super Heavyweight muscle stud Ryan North. Three days out from competing in his next bodybuilding show. A show I'm actually going to get to watch.

All the time I’m looking at my dad’s laptop, I’m wondering whether Ryan has noticed me. I look up every now and then but I don’t catch him looking over. I know it’s only a matter of time before he comes over though. 

I could so easily check Instagram on this laptop. Log in to my account. See all the people I follow. Maybe I’ll get some kind of clue as to whether certain people I follow will be at the expo on Saturday. Maybe I’ll see a dozen recent posts from Ryan flexing and practising his poses in his Union Jack posers. Maybe I’ll read a drunken DM from him telling me how much he was dying to lean over and fucking kiss me the other day when we were sitting in his car outside my house.

I’m smirking into the laptop at that thought. And then my heart fucking jumps into my throat. Because Ryan North PT is walking straight towards me. All six foot and two hundred plus pounds of him. 

I look up. He’s smiling, but I don’t know, he looks a bit nervous. Am I imagining that? Is it because I told him I got suspended from uni? My stomach clenches. Has his opinion of me changed since I told him that?

“Alright, D!”

I think that’s the first time he’s called me that. I nod. “Alright?”

Is it weird that I love that he has the same haircut as me? Slicked back at the top. Shaved around the sides and back. I wish I was a mini Ryan. Rather than being a mini version of my dad.

“That’s me done for the week!” he tells me, clasping his hand around his fist again. Biceps bulging. Triceps sticking out. Is he doing that on fucking purpose? Just to torture me? 

“Oh right!” I reply. I feel a weird pull in my stomach.

“I’ve got the next few days to concentrate on prep," he explains. "You’re still staying for the show, yeah?”

I nod. “Yep!” 

Ryan’s mouth curls into a mischievous little grin. He seems genuinely pleased that I’m staying for the show. Maybe he just wants everyone he meets to see him on stage shredded and flexing with his trunks wedged in the crack of his obscenely huge arse?

“You’re not wearing the Union Jack posers are you?”

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Oi! What’s wrong with Union Jack posers?!” he cries, but he’s smiling too.

I pull an eeek face. 

“Cheeky fucker!” he teases, but he’s smiling too. “Everyone loves those trunks!”

I’m tempted to make a comment. Everyone apart from your girlfriend that is. Who’s scared of what her family and friends will think if they see pictures of you tanned up and shredded and flexing in your shiny posers. Who gets off on the fact that her boyfriend’s big but is embarrassed about the fact she’s going out with a jacked to fuck muscle freak who loves nothing more than to stomp around bodybuilding stages cranking out most musculars with his trunks shoved into the crack of his big greedy glutes. Unlike me, Ryan, who would never be embarrassed by you. Who’d fucking do anything to be with a guy like you. Union Jack posing trunks, multiple daily Sloth impressions and all. 

“Anyway - they’re better than those red … velvet ones I’ve seen on you wearing on your Instagram!” he says, playfully screwing up his face.

I smirk and bite my lip. But then my chest tightens. Because I’m suddenly remembering a time when someone else said something very similar to me about my preference for velvet posing trunks. When I was stood over him in his bedroom wearing a pair. Right before I posed for him. Right before we switched places and he posed for me. Right before I sat on his bed and got so turned on watching him flex his huge pecs and squeeze his blocky abs that I lunged towards him and kissed him. Right before he kissed me back. Before I felt his pecs on mine. My shoulders against his. The heat coming from his perfect body. His soft, sticky skin that smelt like him. Muscle on muscle. Skin on skin. Right before I felt like I was going to die because I was doing the thing I’d wanted to do for so long. Right before I kissed Sebastian Wood.

“So are you, like, one of those weirdos who can go a whole day without checking Instagram?”

“Erm …” I say, my stomach clenching. Ryan's just smirking at me with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ve DM’d you, like, three pictures of me doing my Sloth impression!”

My chest flutters. I bite my lip and smile back at him. “I’m sort of having a break. From Instagram!” I explain

Ryan just nods and smiles at me. But the way he’s looking at me, studying my face even - it’s like he senses there’s maybe more to it than that. But he doesn’t say anything. 

Then his attention is turned to the entrance of the gym floor. “Oi oi!” he says to me, wide-eyed. “Haven’t seen those lads in here before!”

I turn to where Ryan is looking and my heart fucking drops. Because walking towards us is my brother Josh and his mate Smithy. Only this time he's not wearing his padded Superman costume. What the fuck are they doing here?

“Mr Biceps!” Smithy shouts, pointing at me. Fucking hell. I look at Ryan, who’s furrowing his eyebrows and smirking at me. 

“Yo, little broski!” Josh says as he approaches the desk.

I feel oddly nervous about Joshua meeting Ryan. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the kind of thoughts I’ve been having about him. 

“Thought you were seeing mum?” I ask my brother.

“I am later!” 

Josh is looking right at Ryan. It’s kind of awkward. Smithy leans forward to look over the desk. 

“Are you wearing your shiny pants under there?”

I roll my eyes. There’s a pause. Josh is looking at me. Ryan is looking at me. Oh God, it’s awkward. 

“Erm, Ryan - this is … Josh!” I say, my stomach clenching. My voice sounding way more nervous than I’d like it too.

Ryan looks surprised. I wonder fucking why. “Oh - the older brother!” 

“The good looking one!” Josh says.

I pull a face and roll my eyes. Even though he’s not exactly lying.

“Did you two get lost on the way to the pub or something?” I ask. I look at Ryan and he’s grinning.

“This is my mate Smithy,” Josh says to Ryan. “No relation!” 

“Fucking ‘ell!” Smithy cries, as he looks at Ryan. “It’s like looking in a mirror!”

He fucking wishes. 

“What - one of those distorted mirrors you get in a funhouse?” I joke. Ryan tips his head back and laughs. Fuck. My chest flutters. Because I just made Ryan laugh.

“Yeah! And I’m looking at one right now,” Smithy says, pointing to me. “In this one, I’m short, wide and ugly!”

Josh laughs. I give Smithy a fake sarcastic smile. Fucking twat.

“That’s a bit harsh!” Ryan says, with his face screwed up.

Bloody hell.  

“He knows it’s just banter!” Smithy says lightly.

Ryan pulls a face. I can’t believe he just stuck up for me. No one ever sticks up for me. My chest is expanding. My insides are doing something funny.

“So you’re a personal trainer?” Josh asks Ryan.

“Yep!” he replies, in a short tone. 

“I could do with getting a trainer!” Smithy says.

Ryan puts a hand on Smithy's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. (Lucky Smithy.) “You’re in luck, mate. I offer a ten per cent discount to Love Island contestant wannabe wankers!”

Josh tips his head back and laughs. My mouth drops but I’m laughing too. I fucking love it. 

“Nice to meet you, Josh!” Ryan says, shaking his hand. “See you, Saturday, D!” he says to me. I suddenly feel this incredible warmth. “And check your Instagram!” he says, with this mischievous little smirk. Then, without acknowledging Smithy, Ryan walks off.

Smithy screws his face up. “Bit of a twat!” he says. He’s clearly riled up by what just happened. Josh looks at me and we exchange knowing smirks.

Josh and Smithy finally leave me alone to train. And now I’m just sitting here with this happy buzz going through me. Because of Ryan. Because he stuck up for me when Smithy made that twatty joke about the way I look. Because he put Smithy in his place in the most epic way possible. And because he’s sent me messages on Instagram. Messages that he’s eager for me to check. 

Messages I could so easily read on my phone right now as I’m overseeing the gym floor. Once I’ve re-downloaded the Instagram app, obviously. Which I now kind of have to do. (Who am I kidding? Which I now WANT to do.)

I’m gonna wait until I get home. Until I’m by myself and lying on my bed. It doesn’t feel right to do it when I’m not surrounded by a room full of gym-goers, including my brother and his twat mate. It almost feels, I dunno - too special or something.

Plus - I kind of like the idea of waiting. The discipline of resisting the urge to check. I’m good at waiting I guess. I waited so long for Sebastian Wood. For a chance to act on my feelings. I can wait a few hours to check whatever no doubt awesome and funny messages Ryan North PT has sent me over Instagram.

No one’s in when I get back home. Dad’s still at the gym. Josh is out - maybe still at the park with mum and Gary's daughter. My stomach tightens when I picture them all together. Mum doting over Josh. Chloe all over him. Thinking how he’s the nice one of mum’s sons. The fun one. I push the thought away. 

I jump on my bed and start to re-download the Instagram app to my phone. My chest expanding. God - it’s fucking ridiculous how excited I am about the prospect of reading the messages Ryan’s sent me. 

It’s only when I open up the app and see a post from my favourite Montgomery University teacher, Mike Hancox, that I remember why I deleted it in the first place. 

I’m feeling brave though. I scroll down the main feed of recent posts a little. For some reason, I’m not feeling too nervous about coming across a post from Woody or Luke right now (which I don’t). And then I do the thing I re-downloaded the app to do. I check my DM’s. My chest expanding even more. 

Ryan was exaggerating slightly on the picture front, but he has sent me one of him doing his Sloth face. It was sent Monday night after I went to his, with the text, “Next time you’re doing the face!”

It’s ridiculous how much I’m smiling right now as I look at the message and picture of Ryan’s face. Completely fucking absurd. 

There’s one before that. Asking me if I’m hungover on Sunday and calling me a “shot monster” from when me and the lads bumped into him at the pub with Katie.

And then there’s a final message which was sent yesterday. “How would you feel about being introduced to Dom and Cole??”

So Ryan’s inviting me round to his flat again? Huh.

Barely able to keep from smiling, I go to his page and fuck - there’s a picture of him at Infinity Fitness which was posted yesterday, topless and hitting a side tricep pose in a pair of black boxers shorts with his trackies round his ankles. Quads veiny. Thick pecs bulging off his chest like balloons. Shoulders looking nuts. And his big, crazy triceps popping out to a cartoonish degree.

But it’s the caption that is really catching my attention.

Fun fact: My favourite film as a kid was The Goonies. I also do a mad Sloth impression. Just ask @deano_pocket_rocket (tongue out winking face emoji). #HeyYouGuys #SecretNerd

Fuuuuck. I feel like I want to melt into my mattress. He’s writing captions about me and copying me into posts. And he’s invited me round to his flat again. But why? And now my mind is racing. I can’t seem to stop it. And I can’t stop myself from thinking, wondering, that maybe (fuck!), just maybe there’s something going on here. Between me and Ryan North. Stupidly handsome Super Heavyweight muscle God Ryan North.

The messages. The caption. Lending me his DVD. Inviting me to his house. Is all of this just him being friendly? Is it all just normal new mate stuff? Because I can’t shake this feeling that something more is going on. 

Ryan seeming pleased and excited when I told him I’d be watching him compete on Saturday. The atmosphere in the room when we were sitting on his sofa the other day when I went to his flat. And the atmosphere in his car when we were parked outside my house. His reaction when I did the Sloth impression. That, “Awww!” Like he thought I was being cute or something. The way he looked down at my legs. The way he fucking looked at ME.

Is all of that because … fuck … Ryan North actually likes me? Is there any chance that I’ve found a bodybuilder who has the same thoughts and feelings about other bodybuilders that I do? Even though he’s got a girlfriend. A gorgeous stunning girlfriend whose back he was gently touching last Saturday afternoon? My stomach clenches sharply.

Or is all of this just my imagination going crazy? Am I seeing something that isn’t there? Is all of this just wishful thinking? Do I just want Ryan to like me so badly because I like him? 

I go to the main page of Ryan’s Instagram profile. There’s a picture of him and Katie, smiling into the camera. Heads closer together. My stomach churns. And my chest tightens. 

I look at Ryan’s message again inviting me round to his. I could so easily reply. Something a bit cheeky. “Only if there’s alcohol.” “That depends. Will you be doing cringeworthy impressions of the characters?”

But I don’t reply. Something is stopping me from doing so. And that horrible feeling in my stomach is still there. Because I’ve been here before. Lusting after a guy I can’t have. Thinking about him all the time. Constantly checking his Instagram. Practically obsessing over him. Did that ever really stop?

I close down Instagram, put my phone on my bedside table and slide down my bed. Maybe I need to stop this now. Stop all of these messages and banter with Ryan over Instagram. Put an end to these little trips to Ryan’s flat before I get in any deeper than I already am.

Before I’m lying here on my bed on a Wednesday afternoon, thinking about nothing but him. Thinking about his smile. And how fucking good he smells. Thinking about his huge arms. And the way he always does that thing where he clenches his fist and his biceps bulge and pop. 

Before I’m thinking about his thick pecs. And his perfect blocky abs I got to see the other night in the flesh when he lifted up his t-shirt up to do the Truffle Shuffle. And that big, round fucking arse of his. Much bigger and hotter than Sebastian Wood’s.

Maybe I need to stop. Right now. Before I’m lying here on my bed, my eyes closed and the side of my face sunk into my pillow, with my hand wrapped around my back again. Just like I was doing last week. Absolutely, unequivocally NOT imagining that it belongs to Ryan North PT.

Fucking. Hell.