Breaking the Rules

Chris hated working out. Really, really hated it. But he'd let Joey drag him down to his new gym one time, and look what had happened. Suddenly he was at the gym four and five times a week, letting Justin make him run and do pushups and lift weights, all things he'd sworn he'd never do voluntarily. He supposed he was getting in shape, but he wasn't really paying much attention.

It wasn't fitness that kept him coming back.

He had scheduled a nine o'clock training session with Justin, the latest appointment time he and JC had. The two trainers and Lance took turns staying for an extra hour after the training sessions ended so that the gym would be available for any of their clients who wanted to use the fitness machines on their own, and tonight was Lance's night. Chris had checked when he made the appointment.

"You did good today, man," Justin said, draping a towel around Chris's shoulders. "Next time I want to try to up the weights on some of your sets. This is getting too easy."

Chris glared at him, rolling his shoulders to ease the slight burn. "Easy for you, maybe. You're just standing there."

Justin just laughed, already headed for the locker room to grab his stuff and go home. Chris wasn't ready to go, just yet. He had other plans for the rest of the evening.

He spent a few minutes stretching his arms, moving his shoulders, trying to alleviate some of the post-workout soreness. It wasn't that bad, really, Chris realized. His workouts really were getting easier. He scowled at that, feeling as if his body had betrayed him by cooperating in the whole evil fitness scheme. Still, he thought as he glanced over at the front desk, the perks were worth it.

He hung around for a little while, waiting until Justin and JC had both said good night. Lance hardly looked up at either of them. He was lost in his computer, working, and Chris grinned wickedly as he contemplated how he was going to coax Lance away from his beloved spreadsheets.

Glancing around the gym, Chris's eye fell on the prone leg curl machine. It wasn't a part of his workout--Justin had him on the seated leg curl--but he'd seen JC using it, so he knew how to do it. More or less. Remembering the position JC had been in, Chris grinned. Yeah. That was it, definitely.

Chris walked over to the machine, humming loudly because there was always the chance that Lance would get so absorbed in his work that he would forget Chris was there and that Chris usually wanted to have sex with him. Chris never, ever forgot it when someone wanted to have sex with him, but that was Lance for you. If he got really involved with what he was doing, he could ignore even as fine a specimen of a man as Chris knew himself to be. It was lucky, Chris thought, that he was so secure in his fineness, because otherwise Lance could really wreck a guy's ego.

Studying the weight machine, Chris pulled the leg bar closer to the bench, guessing at the proper adjustments for someone his size. Shrugging, he set the weight for the same level he used on the seated leg curl. Then he frowned and moved it thirty pounds lighter. No point in pushing himself when he wasn't really trying to exercise at the moment, he decided.

The bench was shaped like an upside down V, and Chris leaned over one side. Hooking his legs under the bar that would raise the weights, he bent over the bench and grabbed the handles that were at the end of the downward incline. His ass was at the top of the V, and he wiggled it slightly in case Lance was already watching. Taking a very deep, very loud breath, Chris bent his knees towards the ceiling.

The weight wasn't bad, but he let out a slight grunt as he brought it back down anyway. When he lifted it again, he clenched the muscles in his ass. He had no idea if that was right or not, but he did thirteen more reps, clenching as he pulled the weights up and releasing as he let them down, and making as much noise as he could. When he finally let the weights all the way down with a slight clank, though, there had been no noticeable reaction from the desk behind him.

He rested for a few minutes, wiggling some more. He wished he could see whether or not Lance was looking in his direction. Of course, he realized, if the machine had been pointed towards the desk, he wouldn't be able to give Lance such a nice view as the one he was currently providing. Chris grinned to himself. With one last shake of his ass, he bent his legs again for a second set.

"You're doing it wrong." Halfway through the set, Chris didn't realize Lance had left the desk until he felt a hand on his lower back. If he hadn't been working towards just such an interruption all along, he would have jumped; Lance could be that quiet when he wanted.

"You're not a trainer," Chris said, gripping the handles tightly as he twisted around to look at Lance.

Lance's hand moved lower, towards his waist and then back up again, back and forth in slow, tiny motions. "Chris, I own the gym," he reminded him. "I bought all this equipment, and I hired JC and Justin. Do you really think I did all that without having a clue about any of it?"

Chris started to shake his head and then grinned, because Lance never did anything business-related without researching it to death. Something about a bad situation he'd gotten into when he was first starting out, trusting the wrong person, and now he checked every detail about everything. So he probably did know just as much about the equipment as Justin and JC, could probably be a personal trainer himself after all, and it was that image that made Chris grin. "Show me," he said.

"Get off for a minute," Lance said. He made an adjustment to the machine. Chris got back on, and Lance talked him through the proper technique while Chris bent his knees and straightened them again. He could feel Lance's eyes on him, and he tried to concentrate on what he was doing, feeling exposed. He had chosen this machine for that very reason, true, but with Lance right there, just watching him...Chris shifted slightly against the bench, where his dick was beginning to press uncomfortably.

He started to get up when he was finished. Lance's hand on the back of his thigh stopped him. "Do another set."

"That was my second set," Chris told him. Lance's hand slid over his skin before he pulled back, and Chris swallowed.

"And you should be lifting twice that much weight," Lance said calmly. "Do another set." He stood back, looking, as Chris shifted his lower body again. He knew, Chris realized suddenly. Lance knew that Chris had started to get hard, knew somehow that his burgeoning erection was confined between the rest of his body and the weight bench. And Lance wanted him to suffer some more, probably as payback for that thing two nights ago with the blindfold, and the feather, and Lance's wrists tied to the headboard, and yeah, thinking about that really wasn't helping Chris in his current situation.

He mumbled something to himself. "What?" Lance said.

"Nothing," Chris said. He wasn't going to repeat anything that might get him in trouble, since it was obviously *evil* personal trainer Lance who was watching him so closely. Sucking in a deep breath, Chris started the exercise again.

The weight was light, but he'd already done a full workout before the two sets on this machine. Add the fact that this was a new exercise for Chris, and his hamstrings were definitely protesting by the time he'd done the fifth rep. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, not looking at Lance and determined to finish the set without pausing.

His thighs were shaking slightly by the time he let down the weights. He looked smugly at Lance as he relaxed for a moment without moving, and then he stood up and took a step towards the younger man.

Chris winced, his left knee bending slightly under him as the muscle knotted up tightly. He shifted his weight quickly to the other leg and didn't cry out, but Lance was already at his side, ready to hold him up if he needed it. "Cramp?" he asked. Chris nodded painfully.

Lance turned him back towards the bench, one hand on the back of his shoulder and the other on his thigh. "Lie down." Chris started to protest, not wanting to go anywhere near that particular piece of equipment again, but Lance was already bending him over the bench, his hand rubbing Chris's leg. As soon as Chris was still, Lance worked the muscle with both hands, and Chris pretty much stopped complaining then because Lance's hands were just. Fucking amazing.

Lance dug in with his thumbs, and the heels of his hands, long deep strokes that hurt while they helped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have pushed you to do that extra set."

Chris groaned. "Don't ever stop what you're doing right now, and I just might forgive you." The knot in his leg was starting to loosen, and Lance's strokes had become more leisurely, running from the crease of his knee up to the very top of his thigh. Chris's erection, which had softened somewhat from the pain, was quickly becoming an issue again.

"This really isn't the best place for a massage," Lance mused. Chris turned his head to see Lance taking in the way he was bent over the inverted V of the weight bench again. "I just didn't want you to have to walk across the room while your leg was cramping like that. I suppose we could go over there now, and I could finish what I've started."

Chris started to nod enthusiastically when one of Lance's talented hands slid up and cupped his ass. "Or," Lance said, his voice dropping down to the low registers that sent shivers up Chris's spine, "we could stay right here and finish what *you* started."

"Oh, hell, yeah," Chris breathed. Lance laughed.

"You wanted me to look at you, right?" Lance had both hands on Chris's ass, now, holding him still as he moved to stand behind him with a leg on either side of the bench. "You wanted me to see you, all bent over with this--" he squeezed Chris's ass "--on display, and start thinking about what it would be like to walk over and fuck you right here." Chris moaned. He couldn't help it--Lance's voice, not to mention Lance's hands on his ass, did things to Chris that he didn't have words to describe.

Which didn't mean that he'd stopped trying to describe them, every time they were together, because Chris did have a lot of other words and he liked to use them, a lot. Right now, though, Lance was doing the talking. Chris let him, because that deep, sexy voice he fell into during times like this was worth shutting up to hear. "Hard and fast," Lance continued, his voice dragging slowly on the words. "Or slow, careful, until you were begging me for it. You wouldn't be able to do much about it, bent over like this. I'd be the one in control."

Chris gripped the handles tightly, wondering why Lance was still speaking in the theoretical sense when they were right there, about to do just what he was describing--or at least, he hoped they were. As Lance had pointed out, Chris had very little command over the situation. The realization only aroused him more.

Lance moved up against him, his own hardness pressing against Chris's ass. He ground his hips sharply once, twice, three times, and Chris gasped as he pulled away. Lance walked around the length of the machine, squatting down until he was at ear-level with Chris. "Don't move," he said softly, and walked away.

Chris blinked several times, breathing shallowly, before he figured out what Lance was doing as the younger man locked the door to the gym. When Lance disappeared into the locker room, though, Chris knew exactly what he was after. That first time, they had used Lance's master key to steal a bottle of lube from JC's locker. These days, Lance kept some on hand. So to speak. Chris adjusted himself, getting as comfortable as possible on the sloped bench. He was hard as a rock, now, so that really wasn't very comfortable at all.

Lance was shirtless when he came back, and Chris swallowed hard. He stepped up behind Chris, his hands settling on his waist. "Stand up for a minute," he murmured.

Chris stood, and Lance shoved down the track pants and boxers he was wearing in one fluid motion. He pushed Chris lightly forward, and Chris lay back down on the bench, his shirt still on and the pants pooling around his ankles as he kept his feet on the floor. "So which way were you imagining it?" Lance asked lowly. "Hard and fast, or slow and easy?"

"Oh." Chris breathed out. He was practically panting, now, and Lance hadn't even really touched him yet. "Fast." And then, because it was next to impossible for him to give a simple answer and leave it at that, to any question, he added, "I mean, maybe I was thinking slow. And begging, even. Then." Lance ran a finger over the crack of his ass, and he hissed. "But, no. I need fast. I need now, even." And Chris was whimpering, now, and it was his own fault because he'd set up this whole damn tease.

"I see." Lance sounded thoughtful, and Chris groaned. He was doomed, he knew it. "But then, as we've pointed out, you're not really in a position to do much about it, are you?"

"Lance." It came out strangled, and he *was* begging. When he felt Lance's slick fingers brush over his entrance, he pushed back as best he could, prompting a deep chuckle. Lance obliged him, though, sliding two fingers inside, and Chris sucked in air between his teeth.

"Fuck," he said, the word stretching out over three syllables as his breath hitched. Lance twisted his fingers, pushed, opened Chris with a slow, methodical motion that was going to kill him, he just knew it. And then Lance took those fingers away, and Chris wanted to object but didn't, hoping he knew what came next.

The sound of Lance's zipper coming down was loud to Chris's ears, and welcome. Lance pressed up against him again and he was hard, as hard as Chris, even. Despite his implied threats to drag things out, he was already pushing insistently. "Now," Chris managed anyway, never above a little begging. "Lance, please." And he rocked back, raising his heels and lowering them again. That was all it took. Lance entered him in one long, smooth stroke, hissing softly.

"God," he said, and Chris thought it sounded like he was actually praying. He paused just a moment and then he was moving again, thrusting as hard and fast as Chris could have hoped for. Chris held on for dear life as Lance fucked him, vaguely aware that words were spilling out of his mouth. He wasn't even sure what he was saying, or why, but Chris was toofuckingclose already. He'd lost control of his mouth and everything else the moment Lance slid inside him. Lance's hands were tight on his hips, and he knew Lance was close too.

Lance bent forward, pressing over him, his weight pushing Chris further against the bench. It was awkward for a moment, when Lance couldn't move properly against him, and then Lance slid an arm under Chris's shoulders. Straightening, he pulled Chris up with him, thrusting twice more as his other hand moved around Chris's hip. The moment Lance's hand closed around his dick, Chris knew he was lost.

He shouted once and threw his head back. He felt teeth closing on his shoulder and then Lance was coming too, clutching Chris to him so tightly that Chris didn't have to think about holding himself up, slumping in his lover's arms when he was spent.

Lance held perfectly still for a moment before he moved, easing them both to the floor. Chris lay back against him, boneless, as Lance began to laugh. "What?"

"I was just thinking," Lance said. He grabbed Chris's forgotten towel off the floor and made a half-hearted attempt at wiping down the weight bench with it; they'd have to clean it with bleach or something, Chris supposed. "In all the years I've spent telling Justin and JC not to have sex with the clients, I don't think either one of them has ever actually done it here, on my weight machines."

Chris grinned. "Don't know what they're missing. Damn, Lance. That was..."

"Yeah," Lance agreed. They were quiet for a moment, and then Lance kissed him. "What are we doing?" he asked softly as he pulled away.

"Mm," Chris said, stretching in Lance's lap. "If you can't figure it out, we're not doing it right." He grinned wickedly. "Give me a little while, and we can try it again."

Lance laughed. "I meant--"

"I know." Chris reached up and touched Lance's mouth briefly. He rolled up to face Lance, straddling him. "I don't know what we're doing," he shrugged, his voice serious. "I like you. I like having sex with you," he added, letting his lips quirk up.

"I do believe I knew that," Lance said dryly, and Chris laughed.

"So can we just...take it from there, see where it goes? Is that enough?" He held his breath, wondering what he would do if Lance said he wanted more. Probably, he thought, find a way to give it to him.

Lance was nodding, though, and Chris relaxed. "Yeah. Yeah, it's enough. For now."

"For now," Chris echoed. Lance was smiling, and Chris felt a full-fledged grin spreading over his face again. Leaning forward, he kissed Lance on the nose.

"Dork," Lance said affectionately. Chris nodded and kissed him again on the lips.

Lance's arms came up around him as he returned the kiss. Chris leaned into his embrace. It occurred to him suddenly that even if he had no idea where it was going, he was already pretty sure that they could make this relationship work.

He'd never wanted anything more.

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