10. Bryant

I've had to step back. Being around the kid is too much. I was way over the line the other day, and it could have cost us both everything. There"s no way I could keep my job or ever get another, if Jack had told or we"d been caught. And there"s no way the dean would keep Jack on the team if I was gone. Not least of all because it would imply things about his sexuality that aren"t considered acceptable in Texas football society. But also because the dean has a severe disdain for people he considers low class, and would look for any excuse for Jack to leave if he embarrassed him at all.

Jack shows up early and leaves late every day. I know because I check the cameras nightly, watching him arrive each morning and then as he walks to my office before he leaves the building at night. I"m confused by the way he watches me, the way he comes to my office every night after his extended workout, the way he leaves the door to the locker room open so the steam from the showers filters out into the hallways. It"s almost as though he"s seeking me out, looking for my attention.

I"m curious, but not enough to ask him about it or do anything. I barely pay him any attention at all outside of what I absolutely have to say to him at practice. Every time he says "Yes, Coach," my cock gets hard. The jock strap can only do so much, and I go home with a raging boner every night. I don"t allow myself to do anything about it, but I"ve woken up more than one morning with a sticky mess on my stomach.

The dreams that plague me are both erotic and terrifying. One moment, I"m licking the sweat from his naked spine as he bends over the leg press machine, or looking down into his grey eyes as I force my cock into his mouth, and the next I"m standing before a judge, who looks exactly like Jack, holding an open bottle of whiskey.

He"s become an obsession that I can"t seem to shake. It"s worse than the struggle I"ve had with alcoholism since my NFL dreams went up in flames, the constant reminder that I"ll never be the man I once thought I"d be. Maybe that"s why he calls to me, because I know I can help him achieve those same dreams and he could actually live them for longer than a blink of an eye.

I've been watching him closely, and he"s doing well. There"s no reason to change or push anything while he"s succeeding the way he is. I"ve got him exactly where he needs to be, and if he keeps pushing himself the way he is, he"ll be a new NFL recruit by this time next year. I gave him a warning, and as much as a big part of me wanted him to continue pushing back, it worked well enough for him to get his head back in the game.

Or so I thought.

I look down at my watch. Practice started nearly five minutes ago. Jack didn"t show up for his early morning workout, nor did he respond to my texts when I asked him where the fuck he was.

I sense movement in the tunnel that leads to the locker room. Jack is there, leaning against the wall, looking at his watch. I look down at mine, curious about what he"s looking for, considering he"s already late for practice.

At exactly five minutes and one second past the time the rest of the team started their practice, he starts walking out onto the field.

"My bad!" he calls over to me, lifting his hand in a wave, before heading onto the field to get stretched out. My jaw ticks.

The rest of the morning, Jack puts less effort into his training. He runs slower, talks more. I even catch him flirting with the water girl again. Who the fuck let her back on this field?

When the team jogs off the field for their lunch break, I try to pull him aside, but he bypasses me. The chicken and brown rice I left in his locker is sitting on my desk when I get back to my office. Through the cameras, I watch as Jack fills his plate full of pasta.

"Fine, be a brat. That"s going to hurt later when I make you run wind sprints," I whisper to the camera. Just before I switch it off, Jack looks directly up at the camera, like he knows I"m watching him.

For two days, Jack purposefully shows up exactly five minutes and one second late, doesn"t eat the meals I continue to prepare for him, and fucks around on the field. The last straw happens when I can"t find Jack before we start our scrimmage. Jogging off the field, I"m expecting to find Jack bent over a toilet because he"s been putting trash into his body that it isn"t used to anymore, but he isn"t in the bathroom. Instead, the door to the supply closet is ajar and I find him in there getting his fucking dick sucked by the water girl.

"Oh, hey, Coach. I"ll be right out," he says, holding down the poor girl"s head when she panics, realizing they"ve been caught. She gags in his harsh grip.

"Let her go," I say, rage seething beneath my calm surface.

Jack throws both of his hands up, and she falls back, coughing. Jack"s cock bobs, glistening with spit. I fight to tear my eyes away from it.

Turning towards me, her eyes watering, the girl chokes out a cry and stands to leave. I hold my arm out to stop her before she can pass through the door and give her a stern look.

"Don"t come back," I warn her. "I"ll sign off on a transfer to the girls' softball team, but if I catch you here again, you"ll be expelled." Nodding through her snot and tears, the girl runs off.

I turn my gaze to Jack. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You are," he says lazily before he brushes past me and walks out of the closet.

I"m trying to relax in the sauna, immersed in the thick steam, heavily scented with eucalyptus that I brought from home. Everyone has long since left the building, so I"m surprised when the door clicks open. I can"t see who walks in at first, but I can sense him.

Jack walks into the room, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung workout shorts. He looks like he"s been working out, or running, even though he wasn"t working out in the building or on the field.

"What are you doing here, Jack?" I demand, exasperatedly, trying not to show him how glad I am to see him. My cells react to his presence.

"Why aren"t you punishing me?" He asks bluntly.

"What?"

"I"m assuming your so-called reward was leaving me to my own devices, but I got bored."

"Ah, I see," I say, feigning calm. "Baby bulldog needs a firm hand with his training?"

Jack squeezes his fists, and my lips quirk. He doesn"t like that at all, yet he"s still here, waiting for me to punish him. But punish him how?

"And exactly how is it that you want to be punished?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

His eyes shift down to my lap, where my cock is stirring beneath the towel around my waist. Feigning more confidence than I actually have, because honestly, I'm freaking out and way too excited about the prospect that Jack might actually want my cock. I throw back my head and bark out a laugh. "It's not much of a punishment if you want it, is it?"

Jack continues to say nothing, his jaw clenched and flexing as he grits his teeth. I continue talking, both a play for more time and to understand Jack better. Does he want me to fuck him? I thought I"d been so over the line, expecting him to either quit or report me, but he… liked it? My cock twitches almost violently at the mere thought.

The steam from the sauna is oppressive, the effort to breathe through my arousal even more difficult. I can feel the warm wooden bench bite into the back of my thighs as I hold myself as still as possible. In this little room, surrounded by the thick cloud of steam and low lighting, I can almost make myself believe this might be a dream or fantasy.

Jack"s dark hair is wet with sweat and the mist from the sauna, and his light grey eyes bore into mine. Imploring me, tempting me, daring me. He sits down opposite me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. His legs are wide, elbows resting on his knees, so he can continue to stare at me. The silence and his lack of movement might suggest patience, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

I hold his eye contact for a while before slowly unwrapping the towel around my waist, letting it fall open. My cock juts straight up, throbbing in time with my violent heartbeat. Jack"s gaze leaves mine, settling on my hard length, his eyes tracing over every inch.

My voice comes out raspy and gruff. "Get on your knees."

His eyes flash back up to mine before darting around the room, clearly trying to decide if this is what he really wants. But he fucking asked for it, and he"s going to get it.

"I said on your knees, Jack. Don"t make me wait."

He shifts forward, like he might comply, but the effort is too slow. One or both of us could lose our nerve at any point, but I"m too far into this to back down now. I won"t be made a fool of.

He wants to be taught a lesson? I"m going to do just that. The next time he wants to disrespect me, he can remember what a bruised throat feels like.

I launch off the bench and crowd his space, my fingers raking over the back of Jack"s head and gripping the hair tight, pulling so he"s looking up at me.

"From now on, when you disobey a direct order, I"ll make you regret it."

"And if I"m a good boy?" His question is sarcastic, but the way my cock twitches, popping him under the chin, gives me away. We both know how much I like hearing him challenge me with those words. The little shit smirks.

"Then I suppose we"ll have to figure out a reward that you find acceptable, but it would be very, very hard to earn."

Jack"s voice is husky, straining with the effort of pulling back against my hold. "How hard?"

A fucking rock-solid steel pipe, that"s how hard.

"Don"t test me, Jack." I"m barely holding myself back, still giving us both an out.

"Or what?" he challenges, eyes darkening.

My chest rumbles, my composure close to snapping. I'm already far past my threshold. I intended my threat to be a warning, assuming he'd back away from the idea of taking my cock.

My grip on his hair tightens, my other hand coming up to cup his jaw. I rub my thumb against his bottom lip, stretching it to open. He complies, and I shove three fingers in his mouth, rubbing against his tongue and hooking his bottom teeth. I pull his face towards me before grabbing my cock, spreading his saliva down my shaft before lining it up. My eyes stay locked on his as I slide my cock past his lips. I start slowly, tentatively, giving him his last opportunity to protest, but he continues to challenge me with his eyes. Once I"m about halfway in, I slowly pull out, but then pitch forward, giving him another few inches. Thrust by thrust, I give him a little more each time, keeping a close hold on my control.

When my cock hits the back of his throat, he gags. The sound revs me up even more. I expect him to start pulling back, but he doesn"t, and for some sadistic reason, this disappoints me. My thrusting increases, abusing his throat until he"s struggling, tears streaming down his cheeks as I use him for my pleasure. When my balls tighten and my release is close, I pull out just long enough for him to get a breath before driving back inside, holding him all the way down on my cock. His throat contracts around my cock, protesting the intrusion and being cut off from air. Jack"s fists hit against my thighs, not trusting that I"ll let him breathe.

Good.I want him afraid.

I can"t hold back a grunt as my climax washes over me. My cock pulses, shooting streams of hot cum directly in the back of Jack"s throat, and he has no choice but to swallow everything I have to give him. Only when the last drop is spent do I pull out to let Jack breathe. He sputters and coughs, leaning over like he might be sick.

"Don"t you dare throw up," I warn him. "Or I"ll have to fill you up all over again."

His face is deep red, almost purple, and it"s hard to say if it"s because he was just fighting for oxygen, the heat of the sauna, or embarrassment. Maybe all three.

Jack groans, and I don"t know what to make of it. It almost sounds like arousal, but that could be my post-orgasm brain speaking. A quick glance down is all it takes to see that Jack is definitely sporting a large hard on. Yeah, he liked choking on my cock.

He fucking liked it.

Before Jack can do more than adjust his erection, I give him a new instruction. "If you want to cum, you"ll have to earn it. Don"t be late tomorrow," I say, picking up my towel and leaving Jack reeling in the sauna.

And this is how I rationalize what I've done. As part of the process, to encourage him, incentivize him.

To make him better.