m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

[Mdlftr]

What's with the verb tenses in this story:?  "So I'm sat there, looking at my phone"

 

Shouldn't it be:  "So I'm SITTING there, looking at my phone?"

 

Is this some sort of middle/working class slang?  Sort of how an American working class guy would say, "I seen him do it."  [No "Have" before "seen"] 

 

OH WAIT - I spoke too soon.  It turns out that Deano's speech mannerisms ARE a thing, specifically in Northern England:  

 

Language that annoys me:  https://forum.language-learners.org/viewtopic.php?t=4825&start=90 

They're different in that "I'm sat/stood" is mostly heard in England, particularly Northern England. My family is from Yorkshire, and they certainly say "I'm sat here" or "I was stood there" instead of "I'm sitting here" or "I was standing there".
=================

 

But again, isn't Brighton in Southern England?  Having Deano speak like he does as a southerner would be like an American in Georgia talking about "grindas" instead of Hush Puppies, or, more accurately,. to say he's going to "red up his room and put his clothes in a clothes press" when he'd be much more likely to say that he's going to his clothes in the chifferobe! 

 

[muscleaddict]

Yeah - that's my regional dialect coming through. Maybe Deano picked it up from Shaun? 

[muscleaddict]

Twelve

When I wake up the next morning I feel so disorientated. For a moment I don’t know where the hell I am. And then it hits me. Chicago. The McCarthy Classic. I hear the shower running from the bathroom. And then something else hits me. A reminder that I’m sharing a room with Seth “Ozzie” Osman. Jesus!

To be fair, he wasn’t THAT annoying last night. It wasn’t like he was jumping on my bed, bouncing his pecs and singing his own version of “D.I.S.C.O” at me. He was much worse on the fucking plane. I’m putting that down to him being tired. I dread to think what he’s gonna be like this morning.

I love the way I’ve been lumped with this guy three fucking times. Firstly, having to share Walker with him and have the occasional meeting and posing practice together. Secondly on the plane. And thirdly having to share a bloody room with him. It’s like some kind of cosmic joke. You can have this amazing experience of going to America and guest posing at one of the biggest bodybuilding shows in the world. But you have to put up with a cocky pec bouncing twat with a mohawk and annoyingly good physique and too big eyes to counterbalance the good stuff. Kind of like how the universe gave me Ryan North PT. And then it all went to shit.

There’s a text on my phone from Mafra.

Ash went to breakfast with the third years. I said I’d wait for you. Text me when you’re up.

So Ash has ditched us AGAIN. I text Mafra and tell him to give me twenty minutes. I’m tempted to text Ash right now and get him to pass on a message to his new mates that I want my single room. I picture Connell in his single room. Kieran in his. All of their stuff already unpacked. So I’ll be moving into one of their rooms. Ozzie the other. They’ll be moving in here. (Even though they didn’t actually agree to it beforehand.) Four students switching rooms. A lot of packing and unpacking. A lot of hassle. A lot of reasoning from Walker. Why do I have this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach?

And just as I have that thought, the bathroom door opens. And out strolls Seth “Ozzie” Osman. With a towel wrapped around his waist. And HO. LEE. FUCK. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without a top on since that meeting with Walker when we went through our posing routines.

I’d almost forgotten JUST how good this guy’s physique is. Those cartoon-like delts look crazy. His pecs look thicker than before. How is there even space for those things on his chest? And those cobblestone abs are still uniquely shaped as before. Only now the ridges are deeper and look even more fucking shredded. And just like before, I’m swelling. This time underneath my bed sheets. I just can’t fucking help it. Ozzie’s a knob. But there’s no denying it. That physique turns me the fuck on. Did I say it was good earlier? Let me rephrase. Ozzie’s physique is amazing. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Like, EVER.

“Yo, yo, yo,” he says. “All right, Little Dude!”

I internally groan. (Still turned on though. Ugh!) I say all right back, feeling weirdly sheepish. Maybe because I'm lying here in my boxer shorts with a hard on under these bed sheets.

“Your mate knocked on our door earlier. We didn’t wanna wake you, like.”

He walks over to his bed. My eyes focus on his thick pumped lats. And his arse sticking out under his white towel. Fucking hell.

“The scary looking Brazilian?”

I can’t help smirking at that. He might look a bit scary, but Mafra’s a fucking teddy bear.

“I’ve just text him,” I tell him.

“Cool, cool,” he says, pulling out clothes from his suitcase. Jesus. Is he capable of talking normally?

I have to look away from Ozzie and wait for my fucking hard on to go down before I get out of bed. I think on my feet and pull out some clothes from my suitcase. I still don’t really like the idea of changing in front of him. 

I half expect to return to an empty room after my shower. But no. He’s still here. Sitting on the edge of his bed and playing with his phone. In a black cap that’s on backwards which makes him look like some kind of college frat boy from an American teen film. And wearing a tight fitted black t-shirt which his tanned arms are bulging out of and has a print on the chest that reads - wait - noooo! 

Oh. My. GOD.

Ozzie looks up at me from his phone. Something flickers in his expression. And then his mouth curls into s weird ominous smirk.

“Are you SERIOUSLY wearing that t-shirt?” I ask him.

He looks down then back up at me wide-eyed. “I SERIOUSLY am!” he says, mocking me with his voice and pulling a stupid expression. 

I can’t believe it. Or maybe I actually can! Because written on Ozzie’s tight black t-shirt in white are the words “OSMAN’S GYM”. He’s wearing a t-shirt with the name of his dad’s gym on it. And okay - he looks fucking GOOD in it. Arms bulging. Shoulders stretching the material. But he’s wearing a t-shirt with the name of his dad’s gym on it!! Of his own free will.

“WHY though?” I ask.

“Free promotion, Little Dude. Can you actually breathe in those jeans?” he asks, looking at my painted on jeans with a smirk.

I roll my eyes.

“Would they rip if you squatted in ‘em?!”

I ignore him, texting Mafra to tell him on my way. I put my phone in my pocket and grab my wallet. Then I turn to Ozzie. Still sitting there in his black “Osman’s Gym” t-shirt and backwards cap. Those too big eyes looking back at me.

“I’m going down to breakfast with Mafra. Do you er … wanna come?”

Did I seriously just do that? The corner of Ozzie’s mouth starts to curl into a little smile. Then his expression relaxes and he shrugs. “May as well do!” he says, lazily, as he stands up. And now I’m heading out of my room to get Mafra. With Ozzie in tow. Voluntarily hanging out with Osman’s Gym’s most dynamic thinking marketeer. I MUST be fucking mad!

We’ve barely taken two steps and he’s already singing at me. Like an extension of the “D.I.S.C.O” song he was singing on the plane. “His dad owns a gym called Deano’s!”

I look over and glare at him. “Is this the extended remix?”

He cheekily beams at me. “He's got skinny jeans on!”

I shake my head and look away from him.

“His arse looks enormous!”

What the - did he actually just say those words? I furrow my eyebrows, not looking at him. Because there’s no hiding my smirk now. And I am NOT looking at whatever smug smirk or cheeky grin I KNOW is on his face right now.

When a surprised looking Mafra opens the door, Ozzie lifts an arm up and puts it around my shoulder. His heavy mass temporarily engulfing me. “All right, Mafra! Two pocket rockets for the price of one!”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’m SO sorry, mate!”

The three of us walk into the practically empty hotel restaurant to find Johnny Hoxton walking up to us, clearly heading out. “All right, lads? Finally made it down then? The others have already headed out to the expo.”

Me and Mafra look at each other and exchange smirks. Ditched by Ash, AGAIN. Johnny says he’ll see us later and reminds us we need to be at the convention centre at seven tonight for the press conference and meeting the pros afterwards.

But as he leaves, I suddenly think on my feet and go after him.

“Umm, sir?”

Johnny stops and spins around, his mouth turning into a playful smile. “How many times have I told you, Deano. Call me Johnny!”

I smile, feeling a little sheepish and awkward. “Erm … do you know if Walker’s done anything about the rooms?”

He frowns a little. “Not sure, mate.”

There’s something in his expression though. Something I don’t think I like. The kind of look you give someone when you’re trying to spare their feelings. “I’ll get him to give you a call.”

I nod and roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek. Why am I getting the impression that this room situation isn’t going to get resolved the way I want it to? Ugh!

I sit next to Mafra at a table they’ve found, Ozzie sitting opposite me. “Holy shit!” Mafra cries, looking at his phone. “Ash has just seen Mitchell “The Machine” Murray!”

Fuck. I have a flutter of excitement in my chest.

“Fucking awesome!” Ozzie says.

I frown at him. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

He pulls a face. “I never said that!” he says, smirking. He points at Mafra. “Scary Brazillian - what do you think of Austin Kaplan?”

I narrow my eyes at Ozzie. “Did you seriously just call him ‘Scary Brazilian’?”

He leans forward and looks at me wide-eyed. His eyes looking bigger than ever. “I SERIOUSLY just did!” he says, in a stupid voice. He leans back in his chair. “I say what I see!” His mouth curls into one of those annoying smirks. “Little Dude!” 

“The Kapman’s awesome!” Mafra says, looking from me to Ozzie with an amused smirk.

I turn to Ozzie. “I’m not THAT much smaller than you!” 

“Don’t you think Deano here could take a few tips from The Kapman’s posing?” 

I roll my eyes and pour myself a glass of water from the jug in front of me.

“You COULD be a bit cockier with your posing, D!” Mafra says.

“HA! YES!” Ozzie cries “I like you, Scary Brazilian!” he adds, pointing to Mafra.

“I’m pretty sure the feeling’s not mutual,” I say, flatly.

The waitress comes over. I look over at Mafra, who’s giving me a tight-lipped smile. Clearly finding the whole me versus Ozzie thing amusing. Ugh. I’m glad someone is.

“Is that a gym in Wales?” Mafra asks Ozzie, nodding at his t-shirt once the waitress has gone.

“Yep! My dad’s gym.”

“Oh, your dad owns a gym?” Mafra says, in an impressed tone. He nods at me. “Like Deano then!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Ozzie glares at me, his mouth curling into this big, fuck-off smug grin.

“Yep! EXACTLY Like Deano!”

Then he folds his tanned arms across his chest. Jesus. They’ve never looked bigger. So much thick mass bulging off his short limbs.

“Don’t you think me and Little Dude are really similar?” Ozzie asks Mafra, still smirking and his tongue rolling around the inside of his mouth.

“No!” I say, flatly.

“Both pocket rockets. Both of our dad’s own gyms.”

I look at Mafra who's pulling a face. “You kind of are!” he says. I roll my eyes.

“Both of us say what we think.”

“That’s true!” Mafra pipes up.

“You’re a dickhead,” I say to Ozzie.

He throws his head back and lets out a loud laugh. “SEE!” He does a little shrug. “Plus … you know. We’re both kinda misunderstood.”

What - what?! I frown at him as the waitress comes over. But I feel a tug in my stomach. Misunderstood? What the hell did Ozzie mean by that? How am I misunderstood?

He’s looking at me. His mouth curled into a little smile. It’s not a smug grin though. Like he’s got one up on me. It’s like a genuine grin.

I don’t press Ozzie on it, mostly because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten inside my head. Even though he has. I’ve never thought of myself as being 'misunderstood' before, but if I’m being honest, I guess I kind of am. I don’t know how Ozzie would know that though. Or what makes him think me knows me so fucking well. And I’m failing to believe that HE’S the same way. He comes across as a cocky, annoying twat. And I’m pretty sure that’s EXACTLY what he is!

“Ash wants to know where we are,” Mafra says, reading off his phone when we’ve finished breakfast. “He’s telling us where to meet him.”

I nod and then look over to Ozzie. Our eyes lock. His expression is hard to read.

“You coming with us, Ozzie?” Mafra says. For fuck’s sake. Still looking at me, Ozzie’s mouth starts to curl into a smile, but then he stops himself. He shrugs. “Might as well, like,” he says, in his thick Welsh accent. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

As we start getting up to leave, I turn to Ozzie. “Ready then? Annoying Welsh Twat?”

He lets out a shocked laugh, obnoxiously chewing on gum.

“Just saying what I see!” I tease. Mafra’s shaking head and smirking at me as we start to file out of the hotel restaurant to make our walk to the convention centre for the expo with the help of Google Maps.

“So, SB - I think we need a plan,” Ozzie says as we’re approaching the huge convention centre. I can already see a group of bodybuilders walking in. And a few big lads hanging around outside.

“Who the hell is SB?” I ask (even though I’ve already worked it out).

“Scary Brazilian!”

“Jeeesus - are you capable of talking like a normal person?”

“Maybe I would if I actually WAS normal.”

“Plan?” Mafra asks.

“Yep. To make LD here a cockier poser.”

I let out a big groan and turn to Mafra. “This was YOUR idea to invite him along.”

Ozzie lets out a twattish little laugh. “Why don’t you just try it, Little Dude? Tomorrow on stage in the posedown?”

“No thanks.”

“Just one little cocky move. When you hit a crab most muscular, screw your face up, jam your eyes tight shut and stick out your tongue.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“But it’s such a RUSH. A bodybuilding stage is the one place you can just let rip and go nuts. Without anyone judging you.”

“I’m not sure that’s technically true, since every bodybuilding show literally has a row of judges sitting in front of the competitors. You know, doing their job of, erm … judging them?” 

The three of us walk through the big glass doors to the entrance of the convention centre. A guy asks us if we have tickets and directs us to some barriers. 

And now we’re in. Mafra’s looking at his phone. Ash has told us where to meet him but I can’t see any sign of him as we walk through.

“There they are!” Mafra says pointing. I look over and spot Ash, Kieran and Connell huddled together. It’s kind of funny. Ash fits right in with those lads. It’s like he’s known them for ages.

“Fuuuuck THAT!” Ozzie cries.

I turn to him confused. He’s stopped in his tracks. “I ain’t hanging around with those two,” he says defiantly. Me and Mafra look at each other.

“I’m out!” Ozzie says, holding his palms up. “See you later, lads!” And then he turns and walks off in another direction. 

Mafra pulls a surprised face. I stand there watching Ozzie walk away in his confident stride. With his backwards cap on. His thick pumped lats sticking out underneath the material of his tight black “Osman’s Gym” t-shirt. His thick round arse bulging underneath his trackies. 

“Two secs,” I say to Mafra. And then I start to rush after Ozzie. I can’t quite believe I’m doing this, but I am.

“Oz - wait!” I call after him. (Did I just call him Oz? Where the hell did that come from?)

He spins around, looking baffled and surprised. His mouth curls into a little smile. Ugh. I’m regretting this already.

“Are you gonna be alright? Going round by yourself?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “I’m a big boy, Deano!”

I just nod at him, feeling slightly awkward. “Unless you wanna come with me?” he says, his too big eyes widening. Then his face relaxes. Clearly, he’s joking.

“See ya later, Little Dude! Your new mates are waiting!” he says, nodding at the Ash and the other third-years. And then he’s gone.

I don’t know what I’m feeling. Pity for him? I mean, he seems okay by himself. I SHOULD feel relieved that he’s gone. Something definitely feels like it's shifted. It’s like normality has been restored.

“Where’s your boyfriend gone, D?” Ash says when I rejoin the group. Keiran smirks and my stomach clenches tightly. Gay jokes? Fucking seriously?! Haven’t we long moved past that?

The five of us start walking. Keiran and Connell haven’t ACTUALLY spoken to me yet. They’re not exactly the most approachable pair. But I really want to say something. Fuck it.

“Did Walker talk to you guys about the rooms?”

Kieran doesn’t react. Or even look at me. But I know he’s heard me. I glare at him.

“Hmmm?” he finally says, looking at me with this annoying, ignorant expression. Like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Even though he clearly does.

“He said he was gonna talk to you.”

I look over at Connell. He looks a bit sheepish and embarrassed. 

“You two were supposed to be sharing.”

Kieran pulls a face. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Ugh. My stomach twists. I’m starting to get the impression this guy’s a fucking dick. Maybe Ozzie is on to something.

“I was supposed to have a single.”

No response from Keiran. But then - “Just drop it, D!” Ash pipes up. “It’s done now.”

What the FUCK? That pisses me off. Why is Ash siding with those two? They’re clearly in the wrong. And now I’m in a bad mood. And I’m stuck hanging around with these third-year guys. Who I don’t know. And are definitely not my friends. Maybe I should just turn around and go and find Ozzie? Hang around with him instead. And then I laugh at myself in my head. Because THAT is ridiculous. 

Absolutely. Fucking. Ridiculous.

[DennisFLL]

I don't know...but it sure looks like the two pocket rockets will be getting it on real soon!  All we need is for Ozzie to take his shirt off in the room later on and show Deano how to give an "oof" with his most muscular and the music will begin.  MA, I'm enjoying this read so much!

[WashburnDaddy]

Why is it that at the moment - I so want to read a story about Ozzie?! Just like Deano and his stories sprang from one of your other gems - here's another character you've written with such conviction that I want to know more about him! Brilliant stuff again.

[Tin]

5 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

We’ve barely taken two steps and he’s already singing at me. Like an extension of the “D.I.S.C.O” song he was singing on the plane. “His dad owns a gym called Deano’s!”

I look over and glare at him. “Is this the extended remix?”

He cheekily beams at me. “He's got skinny jeans on!”

I shake my head and look away from him.

“His arse looks enormous!”

What the - did he actually just say those words? I furrow my eyebrows, not looking at him. Because there’s no hiding my smirk now. And I am NOT looking at whatever smug smirk or cheeky grin I KNOW is on his face right now.

OMG this is totally happening, can't wait yay!

 

Also, what's the deal with Ash? What's wrong with him? Such a prick...

[Caliban11]

6 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

Then he folds his tanned arms across his chest. Jesus. They’ve never looked bigger. So much thick mass bulging off his short limbs.

It's all in the little moments like this. Sooo hot.

[BrzNLA]

Hurrah! Another great chapter of Deano Story! I’m in love with his story. Muscleaddict is giving us a lot f emotion, twists and turns. I can’t wait to see where he goes next. So many possibilities.

[Wrestlejock646]

I think Ozzie has the third years pegged right. Seems like Ash is a bit of a dick too, at least when he's in their company.  Another tasty morsel from the pen of muscleaddict!

[Kons]

I like how Ozzie and Deano relationship change. I think I like their dynamic as best bud more