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Deano's Winter: A Muscle University Story


muscleaddict

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Four

“Where the bloody hell are you going?” my dad asks me the next evening as I reach the bottom of the stairs. 

I’m wearing my painted on skinny jeans, black North face puffer jacket and a tight fitted plain white t-shirt underneath. I thought about wearing a vest but a) I’m not sure I’m really prepared for the kind of attention that would bring me (especially if I end up going to a gay pub - which I highly suspect I will) and b) I don’t really want to be responsible for giving Harry the Bouncer a heart attack.

“A drink with Tony,” I lie.

My dad lets out a big groan. “Don’t make too much bloody noise when you crawl in at two AM.”

“I won’t be that late!” I tell him.

My dad gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me. “Watch what you’re doing!”

“Yes, dad!” I say, in a mock whining tone. And now I’m smiling. And my dad’s actually smiling back at me. 

The freezing cold December air hits me as I walk out of the door and walk away from the house. If only my dad knew who I was really meeting tonight.

As I start to approach St James Street, I suddenly start to feel nervous. Like RIDICULOUSLY so. Jesus. What is that about? It’s not like I’m going to meet some super hot bodybuilder guy. It’s just one drink with Harry the Bouncer. Who is nowhere to be seen when I get to the bottom of the street. Which means I have to stand here waiting for him like a complete knob and feeling even MORE nervous as I do.

The funny thing is - as soon as I see Harry confidently striding up to me in a black leather jacket with a big, excited grin on his strangely sexy face, I feel instantly relaxed.

“Hello, again!” he says to me, still grinning. And there it is again. The thing I felt the other night when Harry was stood next to me typing his number into my phone, the sleeve of his jacked brushing up against mine.

“All right!” I say, with a little nod. We start to walk. All the time, I can feel that undeniable chemistry. Between me and this moderately built bald-headed guy in his sexy black leather jacket. Oh, and I’ve got a fucking hard-on. Again!

He names a pub and asks me if I’ve ever been (I haven’t). Then he asks me what if I’ve been up to today. He doesn’t ask me about yesterday when he bumped into me at my lunch with dad, Josh and Terry. I have a feeling he will at some point though.

We walk past the pub he works at and he stops to talk briefly to the other bouncers on the door (neither of whom are anywhere near as sexy as he is). He also seems to know the bouncers on the door of the pub we walk into. I guess that’s pretty normal considering his job. 

The bar is sort of big and trendy looking. There aren’t many people in here, which I kind of feel relieved about. I guess it is a Monday night, after all. Pretty much all of the barmen are giving me looks. I’m not sure whether they’re looks of judgement or attraction though. I don’t think I’m too good at distinguishing between the two. They’re all, like, super groomed pretty boys. I doubt I’d have much in common with them. 

I wonder how people would react if me and a bunch of the lads from Montgomery walked in here in tight t-shirts and vests? Me, Shaun, Mafra and Ashley Mosaku all standing at the bar. Muscle bulging and spilling out of the material of our clothes. And now I’m smirking at the thought.

We sit at a table by the window facing each other. Harry takes his leather jacket off. Just like when I saw him in a t-shirt yesterday, I’m quietly impressed by his thick tanned arms. They’re pretty veiny. I’d bet my favourite maroon red velvet posing trunks that he’s competed as a bodybuilder at some point. 

I keep my jacket on. The thought of taking it off makes me feel surprisingly nervous. Harry’s smirking to himself and biting his lip. He’s looking at my body and arms. I bet he’s wondering why I’m not taking my jacket off. Maybe he knows the answer.

“So …” he says, this suspicious smirk on his face. I think I know what’s coming next. 

“Your dad’s Deano Watkins?”

Yep. There it is. Harry’s looking at me wide-eyed, that smirk still on his face.

I pull a face and nod, rolling my eyes slightly. 

“Bloody hell!” he exclaims, his smile widening. 

I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth and look down at my glass. It feels a bit weird talking about my dad. 

“So you used to train at his gym?” I ask, burying my face in my glass.

“Yep. Deano’s was my regular for years!”

I find myself smirking at the mention of that name. MY name.

“So did you, like, know who I was …” I ask Harry, my stomach tightening slightly, “the other night?”

He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head firmly. It feels like my body breathes a sigh of relief.

“Nope. But I did think you looked sort of strangely familiar. I thought maybe I’d seen you on the Internet or something. Or, you know, just around town. And then I saw you with your dad and - it clicked. You’re Deano’s lad! I take it he doesn’t know about you?”

I pull a face and shake my head. And then this weird sort of sad feeling hits me. I look down at my glass again and then take a swig.

“Your brother’s a bit of a pretty boy, isn’t he?”

That makes me smile. “Yep!” I say, nodding.

“He’s not a patch on you, though!”

I don’t know what to say, but I can’t deny that hearing Harry the Bouncer compliment me, as he looks at me with that cheeky (and undeniably sexy) smirk, it definitely does something to me. 

He’s just looking at me, smirking with his bald head and smouldering handsomeness. I’m finding it hard not to smile back. 

“Are you not used to being complimented, Shaun?”

The use of that name takes me back. I pull a face and shrug. Feeling awkward and flattered and turned on all at the same time. 

“So, did you used to be a bodybuilder?” I ask him.

Harry’s mouth erupts into a big cheeky grin. “Of course!” he says, proudly. I’m smiling back. It’s hard not to. He has this sort of infectious charm about him.

“Can’t you tell?” he asks. Then he lifts his arm up and flexes, looking at it with pursed lips. 

I’m a little taken aback at just how much Harry’s arm explodes. And just how big and hard his biceps are. I instantly start swelling. I bite my lip in an attempt to hide how much I’m smiling.

“Nothing compared to yours, I bet. Although … it’s hard to see while you’ve still got your jacket on.” And now he’s giving me this look. Like he’s enticing me to take it off.

Harry gets out his phone and starts playing with it. He’s got this mischievous look on his face. 

“This was me in 2010 …” he says, handing me the phone.

“Wow!” I exclaim. I’m looking at a picture of a younger Harry as a bodybuilder. Shredded and bronzed in red, shiny (meh!) posing trunks, squeezing a most muscular on stage. His eyes jammed shut and his mouth wide open in an outrageously cocky fashion.

He’s not a monster, but he’s pretty big. Boulder shoulders. Tight pecs. Impressively bulging biceps. Even then he had no hair. He looks younger, but, I dunno, I think he kind of looks better now in the looks department. Not that I can exactly tell when he’s pulling that stupid face.

Looking at the younger bodybuilding version of Harry, I can’t seem to stop smirking. And I’m hard. Fucking hell I’m hard.

“Nice facial expression!” I say, with an eyebrow playfully raised.

Harry beams. “You gotta show a bit of attitude when you’re on stage!”

It takes all of my efforts not to roll my eyes.

“That was probably my best ever condition. Mr Britain South East.” 

“Where did you place?

“Second!” he sounds, proudly.

“Don’t tell me my dad beat you?”

Harry laughs. “Nah. I mean - he definitely would have. But I never competed with Deano.”

My chest suddenly tightens at the mention of my name. Harry says he'll be back in a minute and leaves the table.

And now I’m sat here alone. Two lads come into the bar. One of them gets my attention. He’s pretty built. And tall. Like, ridiculously tall. He has a black tattoo running up the side of his neck. I can’t see his face that well, but I can tell that he’s a good looking dude.

One of the pretty boy barmen is looking in my direction. Then he leans into his equally pretty colleague and whispers something into his ear, who then looks over and smirks. I don’t feel like they’re saying anything bad though. It’s more the opposite.

Harry comes back, still with that excited and endearing grin on his face. He briefly looks over to the barmen, like he’s noticed them looking.

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

I playfully shrug, rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth to try and hide my smirk.

“Go on, take it off,” he teases. “Give the barmen something to gossip about!”

I roll my eyes, but I’m tempted. Fuck it. Feeling a mix of nerves and excitement, I take my jacket off my shoulders and place it on the back of my chair. My arms now on full display.

Harry’s eyes widen and he nods enthusiastically, which makes me smile like crazy. My arms definitely seem to be having an effect on him.

I notice one of the barmen looking, And wow - you should see his face. He looks intimated. Almost scared. But he looks like he’s kind of in awe too. I wonder what he’d do if I walked up to him and just hit a front double bicep for him from the other side of the bar?

It’s kind of intoxicating what the effect of my muscle has on people. And the power it seems to have over them. What will it be like when I’m a professional 212 class bodybuilder?

The tall guy with the neck tattoo turns around and clocks me. Yep. Just as I say expected - he’s a really good looking lad. Definitely the type of guy I might have obsessed over in the past. His eyes stay on mine for a few seconds before he turns back to his friend. And then he turns around again to get another look at me, just before Harry the Bouncer scans the pub.

“I think you’re turning some heads!” he says, cheekily.

I don’t really know what to say.

“I can’t think why!” Harry adds, looking at my upper body and arms with wide eyes.

I don’t know what it is about Harry. The way he looks at me. The effect my muscle is clearly having on him. It’s such a rush. And a turn on. Fuck, is it a turn on. I feel a surge of excitement. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen with Harry the Bouncer tonight. But I get the impression that pretty much nothing is off the cards here.

“So … was that your mum with you yesterday?” Harry asks.

The question throws me. I instinctively pull a face and shake my head. Harry gives me a curious look and I suddenly feel like I've given too much away.

I take a swig of my drink, knowing I'm going to have to give him some kind of explanation. “She’s, erm … dad’s new girlfriend,” I say, trying not to give away any emotion but knowing my face is probably betraying me. 

“Oh right. Is she nice?"

I shrug and pull a face and Harry gives me a knowing smirk.

“That was the first time I’d met her,” I explain, surprising myself at how much I’m giving away.

I notice a couple of guys walking down some stairs and ask Harry where they’re going. He tells me it’s “like a club” and we head down there. 

As I’m following Harry and walking through the bar it feels like everyone in here is watching me. The pretty boy barmen. Mr Handsome Neck Tattoo and the guy he’s with.

When we get to the bottom of the stairs, Harry stops and shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims.

I ask him what.

“I should’ve let you go first!” he says, with a teasing grin. “Buggered that one up!” he jokes. I smirk and shake my head. All the time he’s giving me that sexy but cheeky smile.

The downstairs area of the bar is pretty dead. It’s like a big deserted dance floor with loud music playing. There’s nowhere to stand, so we end up standing near a wall structure with a ledge for people’s drinks.

“So … am I right in guessing that you usually give your dad’s girlfriends a hard time?”

I screw my face up. But I’m smiling too. Because that would probably be accurate if having girlfriends was a regular occurrence for my dad.

“He’s never had one before!”

Harry looks surprised. “Huh. And now he does? That’s gotta be a bit weird?”

“A bit. I guess,” I say, burying my head in my glass and downplaying my feelings.

“So, erm … I kinda have something to confess,” I tell Harry, changing the subject.

“Oh God,” he groans. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

I smirk and shake my head. 

“When you asked me what my name was the other night, I sort of panicked a bit.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows and smirks at me.

“It’s not Shaun.”

Harry pulls a face and nods slowly. “I kinda had a feeling you were lying,” he says. But he’s smiling.

I bite my lip and nod. 

“So what is it?” Harry asks.

“You never heard what my dad called his sons, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not that I can remember.”

“It’s Deano.”

There’s a pause while I wait for Harry’s reaction. He looks confused. Then his eyes widen. “Noooo!” he says. “He named you after him?”

I nod and roll my eyes.

Harry’s shaking his head and grinning. “Yeah - that sounds about right. Your dad was always a bit of a nutter. And cocky!”

Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “You’re not really like him though, are you? I mean, you look like him, but … personality-wise!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” 

Harry laughs. Over his shoulder, I notice Mr Handsome Neck Tattoo drifting into the club area from upstairs. He’s looking at me. He does a little nod at me and gives me a little smile. Harry the Bouncer turns around and spots him. 

“Oh, you’ve definitely got an admirer!” he teases. “Do you just break hearts wherever you go?” 

It takes all my effort not to scoff. The complete fucking irony and absurdity of that comment.

“Why don’t you give him something to really gawp at?” Harry suggests with a mischievous smirk.

I look at him in confusion. He signals to my arms. “Flex your biceps!”

I shake my head, playing with the inside of my mouth to try and disguise how much I’m smiling.

“Come on! Pretend you’re in Posing Practice 101!”

“How do you know about that?!” I ask, surprised.

Harry shrugs. “I’ve been doing some research on the Internet.”

I’m smiling for some reason.

“Do they accept mature students?”

I bite my lip, still grinning. I glance over Harry’s shoulder.

“Too late. He’s not looking anymore.”

Harry’s mouth curls into a big grin. “You’ll just have to do it for me then.”

I roll my eyes, suddenly feeling sheepish and excited. Harry’s still grinning at me. That sexy grin on his sexy smouldering face. What the fuck is it about this guy?

“Come on - just give that right one a cheeky little flex! Just a quick little flex.” He puts his palms together and gives me a pleading look. “Pleeeease?” 

I groan and put my drink on the ledge of the wall we’re standing against. Harry has this excited look on his face.

I look around, nervous but excited. No one seems to be looking over. I bring my right forearm arm and clench my fist.

“Fuck!” Harry exclaims as my biceps bulge and erupt around the sleeve of my t-shirt.

Harry looks like he’s gonna spontaneously combust. Or maybe just cum in his pants.

“Just one more time!” he says. 

I shake my head and laugh. But I oblige and flex again, my dick starting to swell in my jeans. Partly because of the flexing, I think. But also Harry’s reaction to it.

“Can I …” Harry begins.

Before I have time to respond, Harry’s reaching out and his fingers are wrapping around my biceps. And fuck. Instant chemistry. My dick is swelling further. I’m still flexing. And Harry's squeezing and feeling the flexed balls of muscle exploding off my upper arm. 

What. A. Fucking. Rush.

And now Harry’s looking me in the eyes. And now he’s moving towards me. His body is close to mine. And before I know what’s happening he’s kissing me. Harry the Bouncer is kissing me. And it’s nice. And a little different. But mostly just really fucking horny.

We part lips. And he’s smiling at me. A sexy mischievous grin. Wow - I can really see myself starting to like this guy. And with that, I feel a twisting in my gut. 

“So … I might be jumping the gun a bit here, but … do you wanna come to mine?”

I bite my lip. My hard-on is still digging into Harry’s groin. (Fuck!) I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Then I close my eyes and nod.

Not half an hour later and Harry the Bouncer is sitting on top of me on his sofa in his flat. My arms are gripping his waist and back. His tongue is in my mouth.

This. Is. So. Fucking. Horny.

Harry peels my t-shirt off and places a hand over one of my pecs. God - the way he’s looking at my muscle. He cheekily asks me to squeeze. I do as he asks, my thick pec muscle bunching up and exploding under Harry’s fingers. And you should see his fucking face! It’s like he’s never felt flexed muscle before. But surely he must have done if he were a bodybuilder himself. Maybe it’s just been a while.

Harry asks me to flex my biceps so I bring them up into a front double bi. Still feeling a little sheepish, but considerably less so than when I was flexing for him back in the bar.

“Fuck!” Harry exclaims as both of his hands wrap around my fully flexed biceps. He lets out this sexy, almost animalistic growl, which makes me laugh as much as it turns me on.

And then Harry the Bouncer does something completely unexpected. He brings his mouth to the flexed biceps in my right arm. I let out a little laugh as his tongue tickles my biceps and his mouth works around the muscles. But as he sucks and kisses me more, I start to get into it. I put my hand on the back of his bald head. His lips and mouth working their way around my biceps. Fuck. 

He climbs off me and holds out a hand. I take it and let him lead me to his bedroom.

“Do you trust me, Deano?” he asks me.

I have no idea how to reply to that. Though, oddly, even though I don’t know him that well, I feel like maybe I do. Weirdly (and maybe this is incredibly naive of me) I feel like Harry the Bouncer might just be someone I can trust. 

“Close your eyes!”

And then I feel something soft wrap around the top of my head.

“What is this?” I ask, feeling whatever’s now covering my eyes and acting as a blindfold.

“Just a t-shirt!”

“Oh-kay …” I say, smirking like crazy.

I feel his hand on my waist as the other grips my hand. He’s leading me to the bed. 

I fall back on the mattress and Harry grabs my hand and stretches my arm out. I hear something. I think I know what's happening. I try to move my hand but I’m trapped. And now he’s doing the same with the other hand. And now I can’t move. Harry the Bouncer has tied me to his fucking bed! 

“You okay, Deano?” he asks. I smirk and nod. And then I feel his lips on mine. Fuck. I can’t stop him. I can’t move. I’m tied to Harry’s bed. I’m totally at his mercy. Harry could do whatever the fuck he wants to me right now. A thought that’s strangely horny. Really fucking horny, in fact.

Harry stops kissing my lips. But now he’s kissing my chest. And then I feel his lips on my abs. And I’m just letting him kiss my stomach muscles. I’m lying back, blindfolded and tied up and letting Harry the Bouncer do whatever the fuck he wants to do with my body.

I’m letting him play with my belt buckle and pop open the buttons on my painted on jeans. I’m letting him pull down the denim tightly stretched around my thick, bodybuilder quads. I groan as I let him place his lips on my cock and start to suck me hard.

I squirm and groan more, as I let Harry the Bouncer, with his smouldering handsome looks, sexy bald head, once-competitive bodybuilding physique and friendly, endearing charm, take me to the point of no return.

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DDeano has changed so much since we first met him.  He is still a little shy when it comes to being sexual but his confidence is grown. Im sure Harry will teach him so many things. He is in for a sexual awekening.

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On 3/10/2021 at 1:50 PM, Ro20316 said:

DDeano has changed so much since we first met him.  He is still a little shy when it comes to being sexual but his confidence is grown. Im sure Harry will teach him so many things. He is in for a sexual awekening.

I definitely see him as being on a journey. I don't have anything definite planned but I think there's more to explore with him too.

On 3/10/2021 at 3:00 PM, Built22 said:

Wow hot 

A bodybuilder tied up and helpless, a man after my own  heart ❤

 

Who knew Deano had a kinky side? 😏

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On 3/10/2021 at 9:22 PM, crushme99 said:

Just.  Plain.  Excellent.

 

On 3/11/2021 at 4:08 PM, Mickeypuk said:

Amazing story.

my mind has gone into overdrive

if Only I had a Harry

Thanks, both! Will be posting the next one shortly. 

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19 minutes ago, muscleaddict said:

I definitely see him as being on a journey. I don't have anything definite planned but I think there's more to explore with him too.

Who knew Deano had a kinky side? 😏

You call that kinky, MA?  Next out are the whips and chains!  

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Five

“Mmmm!” Harry the Bouncer says the next morning. He’s lying flat on top of me and looking into my eyes. My hands are gripping his back. I’m playing with the inside of my mouth to stop from smiling so much.

“When do you go back to uni?”

“Erm … next Saturday!”

Harry smirks, giving me this look. Maybe he’s waiting for me to make the next move. For me to ask HIM if he wants to meet up again before I go back.

“Grrrr!” Harry says, eyeing up my upper body. “Flex your biceps for me again. One last time!”

I roll my eyes and oblige. Harry’s hands run over my thick biceps as they blow up under his fingers, beaming like crazy as he does so. 

“God!” he exclaims dramatically. “I could SO fall in love with you, Deano.”

I feel my body tense up.

“Shit!” Harry says, studying my face. “Wrong thing to say.”

I have no idea how to respond. Clearly, my face isn’t too good of a job of hiding my emotions. I suddenly feel really awkward. And exposed. Like I’ve given something away I didn’t want to.

“Okay - scrap that!” he says, lightly. “I ... could SO tie you to my bed and suck you off again, Deano.”

Harry’s mouth curls into a cheeky smirk, all the time just gazing into my eyes. I feel my body relax again. I can’t fight my smile at his comment.

Half an hour or so later I’m putting my coat on by his door.

“You sure I can’t walk you home?” he says, with a mischievous grin on his face. Then he gasps. “Oooh - you could introduce me to your dad! Oh no, wait.”

I shake my head, grinning.

He puts his arms around me and makes an “Mmmm!” sound. Then he kisses me again. And before I know it, we’re wrapped around each other tightly.

“So … I’m not working Boxing Day night!” he tells me, with an eyebrow raised.

I nod. “That’s nice for you!”

He narrows his eyes and squeezes me hard. “Wanna go out again?” He bites his lip. He looks a bit nervous all of a sudden, which is kind of like.

I smirk and nod. And Harry grins like crazy in return.

“Tell your dad I said hi!” he calls to me as I walk away from his front door. I look back and roll my eyes at him, smirking.

I take the route home along the seafront. I barely stop smiling the whole way.

“Decided to turn up this year then?” my dad says teasingly to my mum as she, Gary and his daughter Chloe file into the living room later that evening. It’s mum’s traditional Christmas Eve that she missed last year.

My mum purses her lips and goes to hit my dad in a pretend manner and he smiles in response.

I sometimes wonder whether there’s an alternative universe out there somewhere where my mum and dad are still together. I wonder how different I’d be in that universe. Maybe I’d be less prone to feeling angry. Maybe I'd be more likeable.

Maybe in that universe, Sebastian Wood actually liked me back. And none of that stuff from last summer happened. I’m surprised at how sad the notion of that makes me feel. 

“Didn’t fancy getting the silent treatment from your son for six months again, then?” my dad teases.

My mum rolls her eyes and gives me a knowing smirk as she comes up to me. I roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek to hide my smile as I hug my mum.

“God, Dean. You’re getting so BIG!”

“He’s getting TOO big if you ask me!” my nan pipes up from the armchair she’s been sat in for the past two hours. And will remain seated in for practically the whole of the next two days. 

“No one did!” my dad says.

“All right, Doris?” my mum says. I can tell there’s a hint of wariness in her voice.

“Francis!” my nan says, in a short sharp manner, while turning her head away from her and not making eye contact. You should see the look of disdain on her face.

I have to fight back my smile at my nan’s rudeness. Mum does a little eye roll but says nothing. It’s no secret that they don’t get on. And that my nan doesn’t exactly have a high opinion of my mum. To be fair, I don’t suppose you would have a high opinion of a woman who walked out on your son and two grandkids. 

Mum hugs Josh and Gary shakes my hand. Which feels a bit formal considering he’s basically gonna be my step-dad soon. Chloe barely says a word to anyone and sits down with her face buried in her iPad, which my nan disapproves of given the way she’s scowling at her.

“Your son’s hungover,” my dad says. “AGAIN!”

I roll my eyes and my mum smirks at me.

“Crawled in at bloody noon!”

“That’s what he’s supposed to be doing at his age.” My mum turns to me. “You should have seen the states your dad used to get into when he was younger!”

Just as my mum sits down next to me my phone vibrates in my pocket. I feel an odd surge of excitement. It’s probably just Tony or Shaun. But it could be someone else.

“You met Terry then?” she says, leaning into me. She’s got this look on her face. Like she KNOWS I’d have an issue with the fact that dad has a girlfriend.

I bite my lip and nod, trying not to give away any of my feelings.

“She’s nice, isn’t she?”

I shrug and pull a face, completely betraying myself.

My mum looks at me with her lips pursed then does something I’m totally not expecting. She gives my leg a little squeeze and gives me this kind, knowing smile. Fucking hell. There really is nothing that gets past my mother. 

“What are you two gossiping about?” my dad says to us as he comes back into the room.

“Nothing to do with you!” my mum lies. She gives me a knowing look as dad hands me a bottle of beer.

“Right - shall we do these presents then?” my dad says to the room.

Chloe suddenly looks up from her iPad for the first time since she got here, her eyes lit up. We started this thing when we were kids. When mum used to come round on Christmas Eve, me and Josh would always open just one present in front of her. Chloe always got one too so she didn’t feel left out. And it’s kind of become a tradition that we still do (minus the years mum didn’t actually come over on Christmas Eve obviously, like last year).

As mum goes over to the tree and starts digging out and handing out presents, I sneakily take out my phone. I feel a pinch of excitement when I see the name on my screen and read the text underneath.

Harry (TEXT ME)

Is it Boxing Day yet?? (Tongue out emoji.)

I try to fight the smile at seeing Harry the Bouncer’s text as I put my phone away. I also start swelling in my jeans. Just like I always do when Harry texts me.

“Dean!” my mum says, coming towards me with a mysterious smirk, before handing me a soft square-ish shaped present. 

“And there’s one for you this year too, Deano,” mum says, handing my confused looking dad a present that looks like a similar shape to mine.

Mum gives us the go-ahead and I dig into the wrapping paper. Straight away I can see it’s a blue jumper. I open it up. There’s an image of a Brussels sprout wearing a Santa’s hat with two big flexed biceps on either side. And above it, the words “MINI DEANO” in white. I’m smiling like crazy. I actually really fucking love it. 

“What the bloody hell?” my dad cries. I look up and he’s stood up with a similar jumper to mine held up to his body. In fact, it’s the exact same jumper save for one little detail. His reads “BIG DEANO” instead.

I hold mine up and now my dad’s grinning and rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, what? Those are awesome!” Josh cries.

 “I had them made on this website I found,” my mum explains grinning. “God knows if yours will actually fit you, Dean,” she says to me. 

“Come on then, you two,” Gary says. “Put ‘em on!” 

My dad groans. “If I bloody have to,” he says. He’s smiling though. I can tell he’s enjoying the whole thing as much as I am.

As soon as I put my arms into the sleeves of my new jumper I can tell it’s too small. The sleeves are ridiculously tight around my short, thick arms

“Oh my God, Dean!” my mum exclaims.

I put it over my head and body, where the jumper is just as small and tight.

“It doesn’t even fit him!” my nan cries, taking the whole thing way too seriously, while the rest of us are just amused at how fucking tight the jumper is on my ridiculously muscular body.

“I hope you kept the receipt!” nan adds. Mum looks at me, pulls a face and rolls her eyes.

Dad’s jumper fits him pretty well, save for being a bit long in the sleeves (a common problem for short arses like me and him). 

“Come on then, let’s get a picture of the two of you,” mum says as she gets her phone out. 

Dad groans and comes over to me. It’s like he’s trying not to smile so much.

“Flex your biceps!” Josh suggests, excitedly.

Dad rolls his eyes and obliges. I bring my arms up into a flex, the material stretching around my arms while feeling this weird mix of embarrassment and warmth at the situation unfolding as mum takes our picture. 

And then it happens. I hear something rip.

“Oh shit!” I exclaim. I look at my arm and then under it. The seam around the armpit has fucking ripped.

Mum gasps and everyone else starts laughing.

“Well bloody done!” my dad says, smiling like crazy.

“It’s not my fault it’s too small!”

“Oooh! You won’t be able to take it back now,” nan says. “What a waste of money!”

The doorbell goes and for some reason, I get this sudden feeling of dread.

“Josh - get your nan another drink. Shut her up for two seconds,” my dad says before he heads to the door.

“You cheeky sod!” my nan barks as I peel the ripped jumper off my body. 

I hear dad answer the door. And then I feel a sudden surge of disdain when I recognise the voice. It’s fucking Terry. Ugh. What the fuck is SHE doing here?

And soon enough, she’s in the living room. “Hello, everyone!”

Ugh. Just fuck off. I don’t know why, but her being here on Christmas Eve really pisses me off. This isn’t part of our tradition. This is the night when I get to see mum. No overly-friendly new girlfriends with too much perfume on allowed.

Dad asks her if she wants a drink.

“I’d better not!” she says. (Thank God for that.)

“Love the jumper!” she says, pointing at dad’s chest. 

“Mum bought it for him,” Josh says. Ugh. Trust HIM to be all nice to her.

“Dean’s got a matching one!” mum says. My stomach clenches.

“Oooh - let’s see!” Terry says, excitedly.

“It’s ripped,” I say, not looking at her, and getting my phone out of my pocket. I know that came out rude. But I actually don’t care.

Everyone goes silent. And everything suddenly feels awkward. I know that’s because of me.

Dad lets out an annoyed sigh then introduces Terry to nan. I scroll through Instagram, never taking my eyes off the screen. I can practically feel my mum’s eyes burning into me.

Thankfully Terry only stays for about ten minutes. I hear something about just dropping off dad’s present. She says goodbye and everyone says it back bar me and Chloe and dad walks her to the door. I still don’t look up from my phone. Okay, I know I’m being a bit immature here, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“Oooh she’s a big girl isn’t she, that Terry?” nan says, which I can’t help smirking at.

My dad comes back into the room, and I know I’m in the shit from the expression on his face.

“What the bloody hell was all that about?” he barks at me.

“OOOH! Stop SHOUTING!” nan cries.

I look at my dad and pull a face. “What?!” I say, pleading ignorant.

“You were bloody rude, Deano!” he barks.

I roll my eyes, feeling about THIS small. “I wasn’t!” I protest. Which is ridiculous. Because I know I was. 

He shakes his head and lets out an annoyed sigh as he sits down. “You better not be rude to her on Friday!”

Oh, God. I feel another sense of dread. 

“What’s Friday?”

“The day after Boxing Day,” he says. “Your mum’s invited us all round to hers.”

I look at my mum, who gives me an understanding little smile. “Thought you could all come round for a little buffet,” mum says. 

And fucking Terry’s invited? Fucking. Great.

“Oh right,” I mumble.

“If D’s rude to her Friday, dad, you should make him do a shift at the gym!” Josh says, smugly.

“That’s not a bad idea!” my dad says, picking up his beer bottle and not looking at me. 

What the fuck? My stomach twists sharply. He wouldn’t really do that, would he? I feel a sudden sharp disdain for my dad.

I pretty much spend the rest of the night in a bad mood. When I wake up Christmas morning though, dad is fine with me and everything from the night before seems to have been forgotten. Which is probably mostly just because of what day it is.

At one point dad gets a phone call and drifts out of the room and I know it’s Terry. But nothing else is spoken about her all day and it ends up being a typical Christmas Day spent eating dad’s dinner, wearing stupid paper hats and watching TV with dad, Josh and nan.

I don’t hear anything from Harry the Bouncer. But when I wake up on the morning of Boxing Day and check my phone, there’s a text message from him waiting for me.

Harry (TEXT ME)

Is it 7 yet?? (Two tongue out emojis.)

I smile into my phone. And get that familiar hard on. It suddenly occurs to me that I didn't actually respond to the text he sent me on Christmas Eve night. Maybe he’s spent the past two days wondering whether I’m actually ignoring him, have changed my mind about tonight and have absolutely no desire to meet him for that drink after all. Which is an option. Maybe the easiest option I could take. Something tells me he wouldn’t give up on me that easily though. Which is kind of appealing, for some reason. I guess it’s pretty nice to be on the receiving end of someone’s affection for a change. To not be the really keen one.

My phone pings. Before I’ve even had a chance to reply to Harry’s text, he’s sent me another one.

Harry (TEXT ME)

Can I ask you a question?

What the fuck? I reply back with a cheeky, “Depends what it is!”

Harry (TEXT ME)

So you saw a pic of me on stage the other night. Any chance of me seeing a pic of YOU onstage? (Monkey covering his mouth emoji.)

Ha - I totally wasn’t expecting that. The idea of indulging Harry with his request makes me feel surprisingly excited though. I go to the photos on my phone and scroll way back. I haven’t competed since the summer before I started Montgomery. A year and a half ago. 

I eventually find a picture of me at a competition squeezing out a front double bicep in my favourite maroon red posing trunks. God - I look so young. And smaller. So much smaller! I suddenly feel the itch to get back on stage. Something I’ll be able to do in a few months at the end of term bodybuilding show back at uni. Something I should have done earlier this year before I did that stupid thing that got me suspended and banned from the competition.

I add the picture to the text message conversation with Harry, feeling slightly apprehensive as I hover my finger over the send button. Fuck it. And it’s sent. I feel a jolt of excitement when I see the three dots which tell me Harry’s typing a reply.

Harry (TEXT ME)

OMG!! (Three shocked emojis.)

PHWOAR! (Blushing face emoji.)

DING DONG! (Tongue out emoji.)

I’m smiling like mad into my phone as I read Harry's texts. I tell him the picture is from the summer before last, which is why I look younger and smaller than I do now. And then someone knocks on my bedroom door, which causes me to panic to a ridiculous degree.

“Deano!” my dad calls through the door. I lock my phone and put it on my bedside table. “Are you up?”

“Yes!” I call out, annoyed. Today involves another Watkins Christmas family tradition. After dropping my nan back home, my dad will drive me, him and Josh over to Haywards Heath to see my aunt (dad’s younger sister) and uncle.

“Oh, I’m, erm … going out tonight,” I tell dad, without looking at him, as I’m sitting on the sofa a little later and putting my shoes on. I feel stupidly nervous to tell him that.

“Who with?!” he barks.

With Harry the Bouncer. Who you bumped into last Sunday for the first time in years. Who used to go to your gym. Who’s twice my age. And has been sending me funny and flirty text messages for the past few days. Because oh yeah - he fancies the fucking pants off me. And we had sex the other night while I was tied to his bed. THAT’S WHO, DAD.

“Tony!” I lie, still not looking at him.

He lets out a big sigh. “I SWEAR you bloody do it to wind me up!”

And now I look up. “What?” 

“You bloody know what, Deano!”

I do know what. I’m going out drinking the night before I have to see his new girlfriend. Just like I did the first time I met her.

I look up to see my nan pursing her lips, a determined look on her face as she walks up to my dad. And then…

“OW!”

She fucking whacks him on the arm. Josh lets out a raucous laugh in response.

“Bloody hell, mum!” dad cries.

“STOP picking on my lovely grandson!” she barks. Then she looks at me, smiles and winks.

“Why has nan always liked D so much?” Josh asks from the back seat of my dad’s Land Rover a few hours later when we’re on our way back home from Aunt Teresa’s.

“Cause she’s going bloody senile,” dad says back.

“That’s all right. I’m happy being yours and mum’s favourite.”

I pull a face and roll my eyes. My dad scoffs. “I don’t have a favourite, thanks. You both annoy the fuck out of me equally!”

I look back at Josh in the back seat and we exchange smirks. When I turn back around and look out of the window, I suddenly realise where we are. And now my stomach is clenching and my chest is tightening because I suddenly realise that dad’s car is slowing down. And I know exactly where we’re heading. A place I’ve been avoiding for the past four and a half months.

“I just need to pick up a few things from the gym,” he says, as we approach Deano’s Gym. I look straight ahead and chew on the inside of my mouth as dad parks the car.

“Right, come on, Josh. I need your help”

“Huh?! What about Deano?”

“Just do as you're told,” he says, as undoes his seat belt. I’m still looking straight ahead, not making eye contact with my dad. “Won’t be long, mate,” he says as he gets out of the car.

And now I’m alone. Looking out to the almost deserted car park of Deano’s Gym. Thinking about the last time I was here. Almost five months ago. I’m looking at the spot where the car I was sitting in was parked. I remember everything from that day. It’s so clear in my head.

I get my phone out as a distraction. I haven’t had any more texts from Harry the Bouncer since this morning. I load up Instagram and scroll through the recent posts in my feed. And then I hear voices and when I look up from my phone and out of the front window of my dad’s Land Rover, I see something which makes me feel like I’ve been kicked in the fucking stomach.

It’s my dad and Josh standing at the entrance of the gym, each holding a box. But they’re not alone. Someone else is with them. Someone I try so hard not to think about. Even though I sometimes do. Someone who made me feel things that I’ve never felt before. Someone who basically tore out my heart and ripped it into pieces almost five months ago. In the very car park that I’m sitting in now.

Talking to my dad and Josh, in the same tight blue fitted t-shirt he often wore and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world, is Ryan North PT.

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