Swole by Golden Czermak

Author:Golden Czermak [Czermak, Golden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, gay, Contemporary
Publisher: Golden Czermak
Published: 2018-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

Will Marsh

It was three o’clock in the afternoon by the time Trent made it to the north side of town. His morning was spent unexpectedly on social media, swirling in the black hole of political commentary and debates, cute animal videos with the inevitable ‘this is abuse’ comments, and incessant inbox messages that opened with the high-quality prose, “Hey.”

After all of that (a downright hot mess if he had to categorize it), his first stop in the Summerset Center was Sir Mixalot. There he got himself a medium Berry Cherry smoothie, Jared’s irksome voice snickering in the back of his mind.

Fucking J-Rod and his cucumbers and bananas, Trent remembered, his free hand spontaneously rubbing his ass to relieve the phantom soreness. Idiot.

As he walked outside, stepping from the covered walkway into the sun, Trent glanced right in the direction of Swole. Like most Sunday afternoons, the parking lot had been empty when he arrived. but now there was a large, supercharged Tundra in the parking lot. Trent’s mood dampened when he saw the black truck – parked right in a front space no less – and he sucked a little harder on his straw. Cherry flavored brain freeze soon followed.

It was Will Marsh’s truck, the immense man no doubt just getting there to do his workout.

Why couldn’t you have lifted this morning? Trent mused, regretting giving Will a key to the facility (even though he had brought Trent the most referral business out of everyone there combined).

Stopping at his Charger, Trent eyeballed the workout bag in the passenger seat and considered taking Jared’s advice and just skipping any paperwork for the day. After all, it could wait for…

Too late.

Will emerged from Swole, moving as fast as his absurd muscular build could propel him. He was wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a supplement tee that had to be 3XL (yet was still tight). If the wind caught in those massive lats, he could possibly soar (if he wasn’t so heavy, that is). Reaching his truck, Will jerked a pair of Chuck Taylors from the rear passenger floorboard, happening to look in Trent’s direction when the door closed.

“Fuck,” Trent grumbled, realizing his outfit – a bright yellow stringer, red shorts from earlier, and bright kicks – didn’t work so well to blend into the otherwise normal surroundings. “Now he knows for a fact you’re back from the trip.”

Sighing heavily as Will went back inside the building – casting one last, lingering look at the gym owner – Trent yanked the car door open and reluctantly climbed inside.

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