Irresistible
"I have his voice in my head. Saying things to me that I can't forget. It comes back every night. Like it's haunting me. I'm getting over him. Slowly. Surely. But it's one step forward and three steps back. It's not a linear...linear progression. When I see him in the courtyard, or by the water fountain, I go back to those nights. I'm not over him. I am getting over him. Step by step. But sometimes I fall down and I have to pull myself back up again. Do you- do you understand that?"
"Yeah. Totally."
Tyson wakes at six. His phone beeping insistently over his head. "Fuck" He feels around for the device.
Finds it next to him on the bed.
"Hello?" he mumbles into the line.
"Tyson, my boy, how are you?" his dad shouts into his ear.
Tyson lurches upright. His friends are scattered around the room. In various poses and states of undress. Oh my god.
"Dad," he says. "Hi, I'm- I'm great."
"It's not too early, is it? Did I wake you?"
"No no. How are you? I miss you."
"I'm good. I miss you too, son."
"Where are you right now?"
"In Cairo"
"Oh" Tyson yawns, rubbing his eyes with a hand. "Are you coming home for Christmas?" He always asks the same questions. When are you coming home? Will you be there when I am?
"Ah, son," his dad's voice grows hesitant. Like it does every time. "I- We're working on something big this time."
"Mhm" Tyson swallows.
"It's a huge project. Will probably take months to complete," he says quickly, but adds right after: "But when we're done, I'm going to bring you something very special. And I'll be home for a long time. Alright?"
It's been this way for years. Ever since his mom died when he was seven. His dad couldn't cope with her death and went away. Traveling the world. And Hiro, his brother, left as soon as he could, teaming up with their father. Then it was just him and Grampa, till he grew up and moved to Tokyo for college. Gramps is not too sad about his absence, he met someone new when Tyson was in his senior year of high school. The sweet old lady who moved in next door. They connected instantly, bonding over gardening and their love for films. They're happy together now.
Tyson doesn't think he could have left Grampa all alone at home and moved to a big city if Nana hadn't come into their lives at the right time.
"'Kay, dad." He sniffles.
"I have to go. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Yep"
"Bye"
"Bye," he says. "I miss you. And Hiro too."
"We miss you too, son." The line goes dead.
He glances out the window near his bed. The sun's coming up.
Where's my dad? he wonders. Where's the dad who took me out for long walks in the park and bought me ice creams? Where's the dad who told me I was his sun and moon? His kidney and liver? Where's the dad who told me I was a part of him he couldn't live without? His favourite child? His golden boy?
Tyson takes a deep breath. Scrolling through his texts. He halts at Kai's contact name. 'Dick' hasn't messaged him at all since Wednesday evening. Today is Friday.
He starts typing, mouthing the words as he does so. "You...haven't...called...me...since...yesterday." He hits send.
He waits.
Bites the nail of his thumb.
Peeks at his friends. Still knocked out. Some snoring. Jesus fucking Christ, Michael's almost honking.
A blue tick appears next to his message. Read at 06:15.
Tyson brings his thumb out of his mouth. Staring at his phone as bubbles dance at the bottom of the screen for a second. The reply is swift.
06:15 Dick: 'Come over'
Tyson's eyebrow jumps in surprise.
Okay
He clicks his phone shut and goes to the bathroom for a quick clean up.
He takes a look at himself in the mirror before heading out.
Fine. He seems fine, despite the night he had.
Tyson breathes warm air into his cold hands as he walks across campus. The dorms are not that far from the Blitzkriegs' house.
A mere ten minutes' walk.
When he arrives at their doorstep he rings the bell but no one answers. He pushes the door open and lets himself in.
Kai knows he's coming over.
He's not trespassing.
His footfalls are loud in the quiet hall. He crosses to Kai's room. The door's open. He sees him standing next to the bed, inspecting something in his hands. The gentle morning light filtering in through the opposite windows softening his sharp features.
Tyson knocks on the doorframe, to announce his presence.
Kai glances at him. Briefly. Absorbed in what he's doing.
He's in a simple tee and shorts. Tyson notices he's wearing the boxing gloves he'd shopped for him. His breath catches for a second.
Kai's checking their weight on his hands. He pulls on the velcro straps, taking them off.
He grabs something else from the shelf in front of him as well before locking it shut and turning to Tyson. "Come with me" he calls, striding out of the room.
Where are they going?
Tyson's heartbeat picks up a notch in excitement as he follows Kai down the hall.
There's an inconspicuous little door hidden behind the staircase. Kai tugs it open, and descends down a narrow flight of steps.
Tyson stops. "Um, you're not going to butcher me down there, are you?" he asks with an awkward laugh.
Kai turns to look at him.
"Yes" he says. "I am. Are you scared?"
He scoffs. "Funny" He walks down the steps. When he reaches Kai, he gives him a once over that makes him raise his chin.
Offended? Tyson wonders, as he climbs down the rest of the way. Ahead of Kai. Hand sliding over the metal railing.
"Why is it so moldy down here? This place looks old," he comments as he enters the basement.
"'Cuz it wasn't refurbished with the rest of the house, genius."
Tyson watches him with a stank expression as he walks around him. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know the history of your tiny palace? I wasn't aware it was a part of my curriculum."
Kai opens a locker built into the wall, rummaging around for something. "Then stop asking questions, Granger."
He wants to hurl his shoe at him. He narrows his eyes. Picking fights with him alone in his basement is probably not the best idea. Then again, if they fought, gloves off, no rules, who would win?
Tyson could kick his ass. He knows he can. But.
He doesn't want to risk damage to his own handsome face. Because he needed a date for the masquerade ball coming up next Friday and he already had a rumour going around about his dick being less than average-sized so sporting a black eye wouldn't help his chances of finding a pretty girl.
He backs down because of that and that stupid fucking sex tape. Tyson wants to gut him like a fish. Asshole.
He stares at him with pure malice in his eyes as he takes out what looks like a bandage - a very long bandage - and begins wrapping it around his hand.
Tyson folds his arms. Looks around. It's an underground gym alright. A dingier version of it. Why work out here when you can do so under better conditions with better ventilation somewhere else in the house?
There are a lot of equipment around the space. With one gigantic and scary-looking punching bag hung in the center of the room.
Tyson chews on his lip as he appraises the equipment from where he's standing twenty paces away. It's black. Has some kind of brand logo in white on it. He wants to try hitting it. Test how hard the material inside is.
He returns his attention to Kai, who has both his hands wrapped in the white cloth. "What is that?" he asks before he can stop himself. Shit. His mouth seems to keep running away from him today.
Kai takes out a bottle of Gatorade from the mini fridge next to the lockers and takes a sip. He gives Tyson a dry smile. "Hand wraps"
Tyson raises his head like he understood what he said. What the hell are hand wraps for? Keeping your hands safe while boxing? He has so many fucking questions but he presses his lips together.
Kai puts the bottle away and pulls his shirt over his head, flinging it into the locker.
Tyson's gaze darts over him once. Accidentally. He averts his eyes. Backs a few steps. Not wanting to be in his personal space.
He's not looking. But the image is already burned into the backs of his eyelids. Smooth, creamy skin. Defined abs and muscles. He's not too bulky. His arms and back are corded with lean muscles.
There's a black something strapped around his taut waist. An inch or two above his shorts. An inch or half in breadth.
Tyson glares holes into the locker doors.
Kai picks up his red boxing gloves.
"Come on" he calls him.
Tyson trudges after, eyes looking everywhere but at him.
"Alright" he says, stepping up to the punching bag, and holding onto its sides with two hands. "Help me train."
Tyson walks to the other side of the bag.
"Hold it like this" Kai instructs him.
Tyson puts his palms on either side of the cylindrical equipment and peers around the bag at him. "Like this?"
"No, not like that," he says, coming around to his side.
Tyson looks forward at the bag. It's as wide as his shoulders, so it feels good to hold it. The outer covering is cool to the touch and hard.
Doesn't budge an inch when he presses in.
Kai steps directly behind him. His scent suddenly enveloping him. He reaches his arms around him, his hands closing over the backs of Tyson's to adjust his grip on the bag.
Tyson stops breathing.
His body is bracketing his. "Hold it like this," Kai tells him, his breath grazing his ear and the side of his face.
He nudges his feet closer with his own on either side. "Don't stand with your feet so wide apart. It will make it harder for you to maintain your balance. Hip distance should be enough."
Tyson's hearing him speak. Say words. But they fly right over his head. Meaningless. Vowels and consonants strung together with no purpose.
"Good" he says. Good.
His wrapped palms and calloused fingers brush over Tyson's hands. "Now put your weight on it."
What?
He hasn't fully processed the sentence when Kai presses the front of his body flush against Tyson's back. For the briefest moment. A jolt runs down his spine when he feels him. All of him. Leaning on him, causing him to lean forward slightly. Toward the bag. "Good"
He steps back.
"So you don't fly off when I punch."
"Right" he says, faintly. Standing there frozen, holding the bag. His body heated. His thoughts and senses muddled. He doesn't move for an entire five seconds, then he slowly returns. To the basement. To reality.
Kai's pulled on his gloves. He tightens the straps for the last time and gets ready to hit when he catches a glimpse of Tyson's face. Behind the punching bag.
He takes a step to the side to look at him, around the bag. One hand resting on the equipment.
Tyson notices this and gives him his attention. Hm? What's going on?
"Your face is a tomato," he says, spooked. Eyes a little wider than usual.
Tyson's survival instincts kick in. "It's the heat," he says quickly. "There are no windows down here." He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug.
Kai adjusts the straps of his gloves, glancing around, then at him. "Are you hot?" he asks.
"Uh...yeah!"
Kai stares at him for a moment, then drops his gaze, fiddling with his gloves again. He strikes the bag once, lightly. Distractedly. Licks at his lips.
"Okay" he says, dismissing the subject. "Are you ready?"
Tyson tightens his grip on the bag. And leans toward it a little. "Yeah" he affirms.
He hears Kai take a deep breath. Then let it out slowly. Tyson keeps his gaze on the ground by his feet. Preparing for the first strike.
He hears the tear of the velcro one more time.
He hits.
"Oof" Tyson almost bites his lower lip in half.
His heart thuds.
The punch is so powerful it's impact is jarring. He feels it in his whole body. His teeth rattles. He has to stop the bag from hitting him in the face by blocking it with his elbows and putting his weight against it.
He breathes heavily. Blood rushing in his ears.
This is why he's not afraid. His punch packs a lot more power than his does. He could have smashed his face in this whole time but he hadn't. He was letting him go. Giving him free passes.
Tyson had been so confident. So confident he could take him in a fight. But now he wasn't so sure.
"Don't take your hands off the bag," Kai warns him. "Keep them right where I showed you."
He nods. Guiding his palms back to the spots they'd been placed earlier.
He's a lot more prepared for the second hit. When it arrives it's just as powerful as the first, but not so shocking. He can take it.
He learns with each following strike.
And by the tenth punch, the bag stays almost perfectly in its place.
Kai steps back to look at him. There's a small elated smile on his face. It's that lightness again. One he'd seen the night he'd made him bleed for the first time.
He seems impressed. "Can you take kicks?" he asks.
Kicks?
Tyson wants to say yes. Yes, he can. Of course he can. But it had taken almost everything in him to stop the bag from swinging at his face from the punches. The truth is bitter.
"No" he admits quietly, dropping his gaze.
Kai nods. There's no judgment. "Call Sergei"
"I don't have his number." Tyson massages his own hands.
"Take my phone," he gestures towards his shorts.
Tyson has go over and put his hand inside?
He sighs. Then walks over to Kai. He's not even sweating yet.
He tries not to look at the black strap around his waist. Or his abs above it. The shorts are cool and silken against his fingers. He eases a hand inside the long pocket. Fucking hell it goes deep.
Tyson keeps his gaze over Kai's shoulder as he feels around the shorts for the phone. Thankfully he finds it before he does something embarrassing like grab his dick by mistake.
He draws it out and clicks the home button to unlock it.
He searches for Sergei in his contacts and dials him, ambling a few feet away.
He informs him that Kai needs him in the basement and hangs up.
Then trudges back to slip the phone into Kai's pocket again.
Sergei joins them a while later.
Kai jabs in a few more punches with Tyson till he gets there.
Tyson goes to the fridge and grabs the same bottle of Gatorade Kai had put his mouth to and drinks from it.
He'd made two offers with coffee, he clearly doesn't mind trading germs or drinks with Tyson, so why should he refrain from taking full advantage of that?
He screws the cap back on the bottle and turns to watch what's happening behind him.
He nearly drops the energy drink. With Sergei's beefy arms keeping the bag steady, Kai doesn't have to hold back. He's going all out. Punching in quick successions. Dealing terrifying blows at a mad pace.
He hits. He kicks. His grunts and pants filling the room. Sergei urges him on. Riling him up in Russian.
Tyson's mouth hangs open as he takes in the sight of Kai in action.
He's a fighter. His strikes are deadly. His strength petrifying.
He's not someone Tyson can defeat easily. In fact, it might take his best, on his best day, to bring him down.
May be not even then.
He sits down on the bench near the lockers.
Kai slows down after a while. And waves Tyson over. He gives him the Gatorade he drank from.
Sergei hands him a towel. "What's Bambi doing here?" he asks Kai, referring to Tyson, who gets irked.
His breath is laboured as he wipes the sweat off his body. He's practically dripping on the floor. Tyson forgets he shouldn't stare.
"He's helping me," he replies, gaze cutting to him. He twists opens the bottle and drinks. Neck long. Throat bobbing.
Tyson wrenches his gaze to Sergei who is already eyeing him. He glances away and spits something to Kai in his mother tongue, who barks a laugh. His voice deep and coaxing when he replies, lips against the mouth of the bottle.
"I need a date for the ball."
"You need a date for your blue balls."
"Piss off, dude."
"Oh my god, who is that fairy-looking thing?" Eddie gasps.
"That's Hilary!" Tyson smacks him on the head.
"Damn, when did she get hot?" Tyson shoots X rays from his eyes as Eddie checks out his best friend, who is flouncing toward them in a pretty white knee-length gown.
"You're full of ruffles," he comments as soon as she reaches them. They're sprawling on the lawn around campus. She stands on the pavement, and twirls.
"What do you think?" she asks with a grin.
"Enchanting" Tyson flatters.
"Raffle draw!" Eddie hoots.
Hilary frowns at him. "Don't be fucking rude," she says, offended.
"I'm sorry for him," Tyson stands up. "He was born this way. He cannot help it." He steers her away from his guy friends who can be wolves sometimes.
"Fuck you, Granger," Eddie drawls from behind them. "Fuck you."
Hilary spins around to face him once they're a safe distance from the guys. "I found someone for you," she says excitedly.
Tyson almost beams. "Who?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Is that a question?"
"Okay" She takes his arm, dragging him to the right so he faces the entrance of the main block looming in front of them. "See that girl? The blue-haired one sitting near the hedges reading a book?"
Tyson looks. And he sees. And he likes.
"Yyeaahh" he nods.
"What do you think? Isn't she pretty?"
"Mhm"
"Just your type?"
"Ahan"
"Go ask her out." She gives him a push. Tyson turns to her once more, slightly nervous, scratching his head.
"Go!" she insists.
"Argh" He swivels, striding toward the girl. She's wearing a tank top and jean shorts. Immersed in her read.
"Mind if I sit here?"
She glances up. "It's public property," she says.
"Right" He sinks down beside her.
"I'm Tyson by the way," he extends a hand.
"I know who you are," she tells him in an amused tone, eyes on her book. "Your face is everywhere around campus."
"Well" he says thoughtfully, "Then you must also know that there's a ball next Friday."
She shuts the book, looking at him cunningly.
"Do you want to go with me?" Tyson asks smoothly.
The girl smiles. "You didn't even ask me my name."
"I know who you are," he throws her line back at her, jaw smug.
"Okay" she replies, taken aback by the revelation. "What's my name then?"
"Will you go with me if I tell you?"
She's starting to blush. She smiles a lot. He likes that.
"Yeah!" she agrees.
"You'll go?"
"Yeah"
Tyson leans toward her. "See you on Friday, Mariam," he says, before getting up and walking off, leaving her starstruck.
All day he has this weird energy inside of him.
It doesn't go away no matter how hard he works out.
When he falls into bed that night, a snoring Max sleeping on the bed beside him, he cannot relax.
Tyson sighs.
Fine.
Let's try jerking it off then.
He rolls his eyes at himself. Stupid. He slides his hand inside his boxers.
The response is immediate. Oh so that was the problem.
He's just horny.
He just cannot catch a break.
Tyson closes his eyes and gives in.
His breathing picks up. His heartbeat rises.
He licks his lips. Gives himself a squeeze.
Images form behind his eyelids. Sharp. Crystal clear. As though they have been waiting all day to bombard him. Mercilessly. Viciously. He cannot stop them. Cannot fucking stop himself from reacting.
To his arms. His back. His chest. His abs. His creamy skin. His flawless complexion. The sweat on his body. The sheen of it on his neck.
Tyson grits his teeth. He remembers the sensation of Kai's frame surrounding his in the basement. He cannot hold back. He comes. Toes curling. Heart thrumming.
I hate you.
I hate you.
But you are so goddamn beautiful.