For Love of Justin

Running on Empty

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Justin flushed as the new assistant coach moved back slightly to look up at him from where he was crouching; his hands were still resting lightly on the younger man's bare legs. He moved away from that disturbing touch. His legs were tingling.

"Is something wrong?" He cocked an eyebrow at Justin.

"No, I'm just used to stretching the way I was doing it, that's all." Justin quickly came up with an excuse for moving away; from the knowing look that came into the coach's eyes, he didn't think he had fooled him.

Why did Coach Bruckner have to bring in another coach, especially one who looked like this guy, who could pass for a model? Justin knew that the Coach was gay, he had read his book and taken his class on gay studies the semester before; but he was very low key about it on the sports field. Out here, nothing was ever said by anyone about sexual orientation, with the exception of the couple of homophobes without which no locker room would ever be complete. Even they were careful to keep their comments quiet around the Coach. But while no one would ever guess that Ben Bruckner was gay who didn't know him, this new guy was different. While he certainly wasn't a flamer by any stretch of the imagination, he was the most sexual man Justin had ever seen. He had clearly looked over every one of the guys as he walked up with the Coach, checking them out with an experienced eye. Justin had seen his type before, and stayed as far away from them as he could-usually. Now he felt as though he understood exactly how a moth felt right before it flew into the flame. He flushed even redder as he realized Coach Kinney was talking to him again.

"Well, runners do tend to get set in their ways but I have a few years experience on you and I understand that you're going to be adding some heavy distance to your training this summer. You might find your old stretches aren't doing the trick and if you do, feel free to ask me about some new ways to loosen you up."

Brian placed his tongue in his cheek and smirked up at the embarrassed boy. No repeats policy, huh? If this kid weren't a virgin he'd turn in his card to Babylon. He'd be willing to bet his best pair of Prada boots that the boy had Prof. Ben and whatever other gays were on the squad snowed as to his level of experience so that they would leave him alone. The question was, why? From the bulge in his running shorts, it wasn't due to a lack of interest in hot guys, since he had responded quickly enough to the feeling of Brian's hands on his legs. For that matter, Brian had reason to be glad he'd decided to wear a jock and not rely on the built-in one that most running shorts came with these days. Having that cute bubble butt so close to his face hadn't failed to have an effect on him, either. At least he'd outgrown the tendency to blush, he thought with a grin, even if he could still be hit with an unexpected woody during practice. Ah, the memories that brought back, as he thought of all the cross country training runs that had gotten detoured back in his own college days. There had been more than a few times when he and a teammate had come back from a long training run claiming they had gotten lost in the woods. Of course, that didn't explain why their asses were covered in leaves and twigs, which is why they tried to find an accommodating lake whenever possible for a cold dip after frolicking in the grass. Fucking in the great outdoors looked a lot more romantic in porn films than it was in reality, Brian recalled, but since romance was never his goal, then or now, and the sight of sweaty male bodies always turned him on, it was worth putting up with a few branches digging into his knees and curious caterpillars dropping into his hair for the fun it gave. Besides, it was a lot worse for the bottom, he thought with an inward chuckle. It was always difficult to explain grass stains on the back and butt, once back in the locker room.

Brian stood up and gave the blond kid a friendly swat on the ass before strolling back over to Ben, who was clearing his throat to get everyone's attention. Ben gave him a look that clearly said, "behave" but Brian just gave him an innocent look back.

"Listen up. We're going to be breaking into smaller workout groups today. Coach Kinney will be working on longer distance training after we do intervals. This will be for those runners who need to build their stamina, those of you who are having trouble burning out too soon near the end of races." A few runners glanced over at Justin, who maintained an impassive face. Others were looking at Brian curiously.

"First, I want all of you to finish your warm-ups and then in five minutes, as a group, you'll do seven one mile repeats at your top race speeds. What I want to see is a consistent speed, so pace yourselves; if you start at a five minute pace, I want you to maintain that. If you drop to a five-twenty pace you'll be made to run seven repeats at that pace."

There was a groaning from the group. Brian held back a grin. Ben was a ball buster, but it was an essential tool for the runner to learn to develop his internal clock so he could pace himself in a race. Ben continued.

"Once the repeats are done, those of you who feel your base training is sufficient will run with Coach Kinney an additional fifteen miles, aiming for a six minute pace. The rest of you will do ten miles with me accompanying you on my trusty bike. Any questions?"

"Yeah!" One short, red headed kid raised his hand.

"George? You have a question about the workout?" Ben asked him, smiling pleasantly.

"Yeah, I was just wondering, when do you expect the Kenyans to get here who are going to keep Coach Kinney company on his run?"

Most of the group broke out laughing, while Ben and Brian grinned. The two men had intentionally designed a workout that would weed out all of the runners except the most ambitious, and they hoped that it would leave only Justin. The tough track workout was designed to tire him out sufficiently so that Brian could keep up with him, and the distance and pace challenging enough to discourage the other runners so that the two of them could get to know each other.

"Well, let's see how everyone feels after the speed work, okay? Hopefully, Coach Kinney will have at least one or two brave volunteers to accompany him." Ben smiled.

"Yeah, well who's going to cart his ass back if he can't make it though fifteen miles at that pace at his age?" This came from a muscular looking brunet who was reclining on the grass.

Ben looked over at Brian to see if he wanted to handle the insubordination. Before Brian could open his mouth to utter one of his withering put-downs, another voice spoke up.

"Since it's highly unlikely you'd be able to run fifteen miles at any pace after a speed workout, Hobbs, or that you'd even be close enough to see the dust kicked up behind the ass of a real runner like him, much less ever be in the position of carrying it anywhere, why don't you do us all a favor and keep that sorry mouth of yours shut?" Justin spoke up quietly, but in a clear, carrying voice, from his position by the lamppost.

"I can get close enough to kick your ass, Taylor, you little shit!" Hobbs started to jump up, but two voices snapped like gunshot:

"Enough." Brian and Ben spoke in unison, and then looked at each other. Ben nodded at Brian for him to continue; he was interested to see how the executive would handle the situation.

Brian spoke calmly but coldly. "Coach Bruckner asked me to work with you as a favor to him. He thinks this team has potential. I agreed to do so, but there are certain conditions that must be met. I will not tolerate a lack of respect, to any coach or to any other teammate by any of you. If any ass kicking or insulting is going to be done around here, I'll be more than happy to do it. I will not tolerate a lack of effort or a lack of discipline. That's not the kind of team I will ever associate with because that kind of team does not produce winning results and I only associate with winning teams."

He looked at each of them in turn, with his intense gaze. Most of them looked back, excited and energized looking. They were like his advertising teams, feeling that Kinney magic. A few looked away. They were the losers, and Brian made a mental note of them; they would be gone if he had anything to say about it. Brian saved Hobbs for last. He gave him his most annihilating look.

"One more thing. Call me old again and I'll kick your ass like I'm kicking a soccer ball, and for your information, I played varsity soccer at Penn State, so you don't want to test me. And if you have any doubts about my ability to run that fifteen miles, you're welcome to come along and we'll see which of us has to be carted back, junior."

Justin grinned widely and the rest of the team broke into laughter at the red-faced jock's discomfiture.

As the runners headed over to the track, Brian made sure to pass Justin. "Thanks for standing up for me. Who is he, the resident jerk?" The blond flushed again. Brian found himself fascinated; he wondered if he could make the kid blush every time he spoke to him. What would happen if he actually tried something with him, would his face explode?

"Well, you clearly didn't need my help," he muttered, picking up his pace.

Brian picked up his own pace in order to stay even. "Well, you didn't know that. I'm the new guy on the block, I may have been all atwitter at his taunts." He nudged the smaller runner. "Does this mean I can count on you for company on my lonely run? Something tells me the Kenyans may stand me up today, they are so unreliable and word is on the street that the Pitts is too damn cold for them, even in summer."

Justin gave him that blinding smile again. "Pittsburgh is too damn cold for anyone with any sense. But yeah, I think I can handle fifteen, a six minute pace isn't all that fast." He took off then, for his first mile repeat, going a nice four-fifty pace.

Ahh, princess, Brian thought, as he kept the stopwatch on him, admiring his light, effortless form, you haven't tried running that distance, almost two miles more than the half marathon distance, after already running more than a thousand meter race! Ben allowed them just thirty second rests between each repeat, and then a five minute cool down jog before they started out on the distance run. Sure enough, about forty minutes later, Brian and Justin were the only ones heading out on the fifteen mile run, although George made a pretense of heading out with them, only to collapse to the ground in a feinted faint. Clearly, he was the team clown; he was a good-natured runner, and not a bad one either, when he stopped goofing off long enough to actually train. Brian's gaydar told him he was one of the team's other gays as well.

Years of running had given Brian an innate sense of pace, and he had several courses mapped out for which he knew the distance. Therefore, it had been a simple matter to plan a fifteen-mile loop from the college over lunch with Ben. He chose a route that kept them in many of the safer residential, tree lined areas once they were clear of the campus. For the first several miles, he asked Justin questions about art to keep the younger man talking, partially to win his trust, and partially with the idea of keeping him winded so Brian could stay up with him. Even with the track workout, the kid was pushing the pace, trying to go faster than the six minutes per mile, which was fast for Brian to maintain over fifteen miles, especially since this was not his favorite time of day to run. He much preferred the early morning for his long runs. Justin was pleasant, but reserved, focused on his running. Brian noticed that the younger runner tended to zone out, as some other runners he had known in the past did. They went almost to an altered mental state. This was great for racing; they were able to ignore pain, fatigue, etc. It was bad for their safety, as they were not conscious of what was going on around them or of when they should stop to prevent injury. They tended to push themselves too hard.

It was around mile ten when Brian noticed that storm clouds were moving in. He also noticed that Justin's breathing was becoming forced, although his form remained as smooth as before. He had not talked for some time.

"Justin, you okay?"

There was no answer.

"Justin, are you okay? Slow down a bit, drop the pace." Brian leaned closer; he could see that Justin's lips looked blue and he was no longer sweating.

"Stop! Now!" He grabbed the boy, who tried to pull out of his reach.

Shit. "Justin, are you listening to me?" He felt the boy collapse against him, his body shaking. What the fuck? He cursed himself for not making sure the kid had hydrated between the speed workout and the long run, and for not bringing water along with them on this long run. He knew his own tolerance but had no clue what Justin's was, nor did he know when or what the boy had last eaten that day.

Brian looked around. He was standing in the middle of a road, holding a barely conscious runner, and he could not recall the last time a car had passed them. To make an already bad situation worse, he felt the first drops of rain hit his face, as a flash of lightening streaked the sky. He cursed himself for not bringing his cell phone with him; he hadn't wanted the extra weight with him on this long a run.

It was clearly time to put his Kinney charm to work somewhere outside the boardroom and Babylon. He picked Justin up in his arms and took off for the closest house. Hopefully, he could talk a middleclass matron into opening her door to two half-dressed strangers in order to get help for Justin in time.

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