Possessive Coach

He kisses me, slow and deep, holding me tight. We stay like that for a while, I don’t know how long, I don’t think I’m capable of knowing. It doesn’t matter to me. There’s only David, his massive body, his perfect cock, his incredible smell and taste.

“You’re mine,” he whispers in my ear. “And I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will,” I whisper back.

And in this moment, I know it’s true.11DavidI blow my whistle and stride out onto the grass. The smell of ocean water almost overpowers the musk of sweating men as the pile of bodies in front of me detangles itself. The guys pull each other up, patting helmets, slapping hands. “Break it up,” I shout. “Back into line.” They hustle to obey, men reforming into their set positions like a well-trained army. That’s how I think of them sometimes, my soldiers out at war, and I want to make sure they’re prepared before each battle.

It’s a nice day with a cool breeze, and I blow my whistle again. The two lines hit each other, offense and defense, and I watch as the battle unfolds. I take note of the defensive center losing too much ground, the left tackle turning but too slowly, and I can see it all happening in my mind, like water running downhill.

I blow my whistle and break it up before they can end up on the ground again. I bark a few orders, get them set up into individual drills, then head back over to the sidelines to check my clipboard and my notes.

Practice is a well-oiled machine, or at least it is now that I work here. Before, it was more haphazard. Coach Hardy would assign drills as he saw fit, but there was no consensus between the position coaches on what everyone was supposed to do. Those first few practices were a mess, and I couldn’t believe that Hardy had let it get so bad.

But it makes sense to me now. I look over, craning my neck to spot Coach Hardy sitting in the stands with a pair of binoculars, watching every move, but doing nothing. That was his trademark move. He’d sit in the stands and stare down from above, like he was some kind of chess master moving his pieces around the board. Except he said nothing, did nothing, and let the position coaches fight amongst themselves. At least until I showed up and took over.

Now, practice is structured. Everyone knows what they’re doing and when they’re doing it. The guys are all working on complementary skills, with the goal being that they develop not only as individuals, but also as a cohesive unit.

My little army.

I blow my whistle again after another twenty minutes. “Break!” I bark out. The guys jog over to get water as I stand off to the side. I catch sight of Erik, his helmet off, joking with some of the offensive guys. They all hang on his every word, mostly because they know that having a good relationship with him will get them the ball more often. The more they get the ball, the more chances they have to prove themselves to NFL scouts.

That’s how Erik can hold so much power. Everyone wants something from him, everyone thinks he can get them to the next place. Either the guys want more touches, or the coaching staff wants a win. So long as he keeps delivering, the guy’s untouchable.

Almost, at least.

“You look intense today.”

I glance over at Frank. “Just putting on my coach face.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Gotta mean mug for the kids sometimes, let them know who’s boss.”

I nod once and my eyes wander over to the bleachers. I spot Hardy talking with one of his assistants. Then he stands up and starts to leave. He heads down the steps and disappears into the tunnel.

“There he goes,” Frank says. “The fuck’s he doing?”

“Who knows,” I say. “He hasn’t actually run a practice in a while.”

“True enough. But he’s always up there watching.” Frank tilts his head and cracks his neck. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering if you still got that kid on your squad, what’s his name… Bobby? Tommy?”

“Shit, you mean Billy?” he asks. “That redneck moron. We’re letting him go at the end of this week.”

“But he’s still here?”

Frank shrugs. “Sure, he’s here.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

Frank gives me a look. “This have something to do with what we talked about the other night?”

“Yes,” I say. “It sure as fuck does.”

He groans. “Look—”

“All you need to do is let Billy play in the next drill,” I say. “We’re doing a little offense versus defense. You know how that goes.”

“David—”

“Look, whatever happens will be on me. Nobody will look at you twice.”

“Billy’s a loose cannon. The kid’s fast and strong but dumb as hell.”