A Thousand Words

Five: Egoist Short

Workout: Act II


Working out on the chest-press machine, Nowaki's muscles were pleasantly buzzing. Sweat ran down his back, catching the waistband of his cutoff sweats. After seeing everyday all the ways things could go wrong in a person, his physician's mind marveled at the wonder of how perfectly his well body functioned.

The young doctor smiled. If he was completely honest, when Hiro-san had first approached him with the whole gym thing, initially he hadn't really been interested in the idea of working out. For one, he was often tired given his grueling schedule and would rather be resting when he didn't have work. For another, if he was going to be physical, there were other forms of "activity" he preferred to engage in.

Unfortunately, that activity required a cooperative Hiro-san, which is why in the beginning he had agreed.

Since then, however, Nowaki had discovered that besides the fact his new gym access card documented his status officially as Hiro-san's "partner," there were other benefits to this whole fitness kick his professor was on right now. For one, Nowaki had found rather quickly, in fact, that he really did feel better and had more energy once he'd begun exercising.

He had chosen to go the weight route because as tall as he was he had never felt particularly agile. So running did not appeal to him, and his long legs complicated stationary bikes and rowing machines. He'd been surprised to realize that what he most liked about working out with the various machines and weights was coming up against that sense of heavy resistance and pushing through it.

Nowaki thought that in some ways, this experience served as an appropriate metaphor for much of his life. After all, there were few things in his almost twenty-six years that he had accomplished without initially meeting some serious resistance (going to college, becoming a doctor, wooing Hiro-san, just to name a couple) but like the weights, pushing through that resistance over time had only made him stronger.

Besides, he had to admit, since he had been working out for a few weeks now, he had noticed that it seemed Hiro-san was touching him quite a bit more recently. Not that Hiroki had ever been stingy with physical contact, though Nowaki knew that there were those who would contest this assertion.

While it was true Hiroki was not one generally for overt displays of affection, that didn't mean he was withholding. One just needed to understand the professor's cryptic syntax of touch: the hip brushed against his when they were both in the kitchen despite the fact there was plenty of room; hands meeting when things were passed at the table and lingering just a bit longer than necessary to complete the exchange; Hiroki sitting down next to him on the couch so that their thighs were instantly touching.

It was a complex language of physical affection that Hiro-san spoke. True, it was concise, but it was also eloquent in its precision.

Perhaps, Nowaki thought, this was one reason why he had not been quite as forthright about his swimming experience as he could have been.

The truth was he knew a bit about swimming though he'd not had much experience in the water and was not a strong swimmer. That it made him uneasy was also true. But when he had begun to explain about his lack of experience, Hiroki had jumped to his own conclusions. Rather than correct Hiro-san, he had allowed his lover's assumptions to stand.

And now, despite the occasional pang of guilt, Nowaki was secretly delighted with the results of his deception. Having Hiro-san alone in the pool on late Sunday afternoons was such an intimate experience. His "tutor" tried to be so gentle in his instructions, it was just so darn cute.

Nowaki 's eternal grin widened recalling their last lesson: the feeling of Hiro-san's hands supporting him as he floated; looking up from the surface of the water into his lover's face, Hiro-san's brow furrowed in concentration and concern for him.

Pausing a moment at the press, Nowaki suddenly realized in his musing he'd lost count of his reps.

He had planned his exercise rotation so that he would always end on this machine. That way he could watch Hiroki for a bit without him knowing. Looking at his lover now, watching Hiroki running, Nowaki considered that while tender teaching Hiro-san was lovely, marathoning Hiro-san was incredibly hot.

At first he'd thought Hiroki had chosen the treadmill so that he could read while he worked out, but he'd been surprised to find that Hiroki, when he was at the gym, gave the physical activity a single minded attention.

Entranced, Nowaki watched as his lover's tight body paced. Hiro-san was wearing a pair of loose gray sweats and a tight white tee-shirt. The front of the shirt had subtly grayed where it had been soaked through with sweat.

While in the beginning he had really hoped they could work out together, Nowaki was now secretly pleased that Hiroki wasn't lifting weights. He didn't really find the idea of a bulked up Hiro-san all that appealing: in love with his partner's masculine litheness, he gloried in Hiroki's lean strength.

Looking over again, Nowaki's eyes met Hiro-san's from across the room. A silent spark was exchanged between them before Hiroki became self-conscious and looked away.

When he ran, Nowaki realized, that Hiro-san reminded him of a sleek plains creature, something dashing and spry like an impala. Even Hiroki's coloring, with his light-brown hair, fit such an image nicely. Thinking of his lover in the terms of a fleet footed prey animal, brought out his own predatory beast. A slight growl built in Nowaki's chest.

It was time, Nowaki thought, getting up, for he and Hiro-san to hit the showers.


Thank you for reading!