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

[muscleaddict]

22 hours ago, stewbake said:

I dunno @MdlftrI'm from Brighton, England, and I can confirm that when I'm just sat there, I've definitely said this. In fact, its hard NOT to say it...

So (for example) you might something like, "I'm just sat there pumped from the gym. Arms bulging. Pecs full. Waiting for muscleaddict to arrive so I can flex and pose for him!"? 

[muscleaddict]

16 hours ago, Wrestlejock646 said:

Dean-Zie?  Dea-Z?

It's gotta be Deanoz!  Don't forget about Dadam and Sheano though! 

[Muscleinatl]

Do continue to use the local slang.  It really helps me and most other Americans to immerse ourselves into the world of Deano and Muscle University.  Effecting that immersion is a sign of a good writer. 

[muscleaddict]

1 hour ago, Muscleinatl said:

Do continue to use the local slang.  It really helps me and most other Americans to immerse ourselves into the world of Deano and Muscle University.  Effecting that immersion is a sign of a good writer. 

Bless you, mate. I think I've said this before but I honestly don't think about wether readers will understand certain language or slang words. I just try and write dialogue that's authentic.

[stewbake]

18 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

So (for example) you might something like, "I'm just sat there pumped from the gym. Arms bulging. Pecs full. Waiting for muscleaddict to arrive so I can flex and pose for him!"? 

Exactly right

[DennisFLL]

There's so many potentials that MA has introduced into our story for us to ponder on what may happen with a Deano relationship -

1) will Adam come around to eventually thinking of Deano as romantic potential?  It looks to me that Deano may want that. 

2) we don't even know for sure yet about Ozzie's sexuality for Deano and him to maybe hook up with some well-needed nooky!  And more. 

3) and then there's Shaun, waiting back in England for his roommate. Where is he coming from? 

MA, I think we're due the next chapter.  Please!

[muscleaddict]

23 hours ago, stewbake said:

Exactly right

14 hours ago, DennisFLL said:

There's so many potentials that MA has introduced into our story for us to ponder on what may happen with a Deano relationship -

1) will Adam come around to eventually thinking of Deano as romantic potential?  It looks to me that Deano may want that. 

2) we don't even know for sure yet about Ozzie's sexuality for Deano and him to maybe hook up with some well-needed nooky!  And more. 

3) and then there's Shaun, waiting back in England for his roommate. Where is he coming from? 

MA, I think we're due the next chapter.  Please!

I can't think of any reply to this comment that wouldn't hint at something and potentially give something away so I'll just say keep reading!  Next chapter coming up, mate! 

[muscleaddict]

Thanks for all the brilliant comments on that last chapter. Here's the next one featuring more of everyone's new all time favourite character Ozzie...

Thirteen

I spend the first few hours or so walking around the expo in this weird, shitty mood that I can’t seem to snap out of. Because of Ash. And Keiran and Connell (though mostly Keiran). Even though it’s probably the best expo I’ve ever been to. And it’s wall to wall bodybuilders and muscle lads. The most famous of which is Justin Hughes. I’m not really bothered about physique guys, though I respect what they do, but Justin’s physique is incredible. The dude ALWAYS comes out on stage so shredded he practically looks skinless. Plus, well, he is kinda cute. Okay, he's VERY fucking cute. I recognise a few other guys I've seen on Instagram too. I keep expecting to see someone in a backwards cap and black “Osman's Gym” t-shirt. But I don’t. I wonder where is and what he’s doing. He’s probably somewhere with his top off posing next to Austin Kaplan. A small gathering of people crowded around them.

I’ve checked my phone a few times to see if Walker has called like Johnny said he would. But I don’t think he will. Because I already know he hasn’t spoken to those guys about the rooms. And they’re here with me. So that conversation’s not gonna be happening any time soon. I’m starting to get the impression that it’s a conversation that’s not going to be happening at all. Ugh. Why am I the one who gets screwed over?

And then I spot something which suddenly pulls me from my mood. Or, more accurately, someone.

Standing at a booth with “Foster Nutrition” banners surrounding it, looking like a pocket-sized monster in a black branded vest, is one time 212 Mr Olympia Tommy “The Tank” Foster. One of my favourite 212 bodybuilders in recent years. And the guy Adam Lloyd told me was rumoured to be gay when I was sitting in his dorm room just a few weekends ago. 

His arms are fucking crazy. It’s like time and space bends around them. How can someone so short have such monstrously thick arms? It’s weird seeing him offseason and pale. He’s having a picture taken with a beefy college frat boy looking dude. All of us lads are pretty excited to see him. For the first time, it actually feels like I might have something in common with these third-year lads who stole my room and made no apologies and gave zero fucks for it.

“Lads - look at the fucking queue!” Ash says. 

“Fuck!” Kieran exclaims as I suddenly spot a huge line of people. My heart drops. That’s a hell of a fucking queue, but it IS Tommy Foster.

“Mmmm. I don’t think it’s worth it, lads,” Ash reasons.

I feel something rise in my chest. This steely determination. “I’m gonna do it,” I announce. 

Keiran pulls a face and side-eyes Connell. (Ugh!) Ash looks surprised. Maybe that I’ve defied him. Maybe he was just expecting me to go along with what they wanted to do. But fuck that. Why should I? Even if I have to queue up by myself, I wanna do this. I’m not passing up the chance to meet one of my favourite (and possibly gay) pro bodybuilders.

“Yeah, I think I wanna do it too,” Mafra pipes up.

Ash shrugs. “Shall we meet up with you guys later then?”

I’m kind of relieved. Is that bad? I think I’d prefer it to just me and Mafra. I feel like I could probably breathe a bit more. Relax, I guess. I know where I stand with Mafra. I have no idea where I stand with Keiran and Connell. Or what they think of me. But then -

“I’m gonna stay with these guys,” Connell announces.

Ugh. My heart drops as Ash and Kieran carry on walking through the expo and the rest of us join the queue to meet Tommy. It’s a little bit awkward with Connell here, but it still feels more relaxed than it was before. Plus - I’m about to meet Tommy Foster. Talk to him. Shake his hand. Have a picture taken with him.

I wonder if he’ll know about me. Just by looking at me. I wonder if he’ll recognise something in me. What do they call it? Gaydar? Maybe when he shakes my hand he’ll feel some kind of chemistry or spark. He’ll ask me what my name is and it will stick in his head. Then maybe he’ll find me on Instagram. And after watching me guest pose at the show tomorrow, he’ll send me a DM telling me how impressed he was with my physique while making a cheeky joke about the cocky loud guy with the mohawk posing next to me. And maybe he’ll invite me round to his hotel room. In the same hotel we’re staying at. And maybe he’ll make me cum with a single flex of his monstrous sized biceps. Then we’ll have the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had. Rendering anything I did with Ryan North obsolete. Harry the Bouncer who? Oh and remember my crush on Sebastian Wood? HA! What the fuck was that about? Little did I know that less than a year after kissing him I’d be having sex with Tommy “The Tank” Foster. You know - the shredded pro bodybuilder his boyfriend had a poster of above his bed.

My excitement rises as I get closer to the front of the queue. And after an exhausting three-quarters of an hour of waiting, I’m next. Before Mafra and Connell. I’m about to meet Tommy “The Tank” Foster! 

My heart catches in my throat when the monster himself looks me in the eye and then reaches for my hand to shake.

“What’s your name, buddy?”

Buddy! I fucking love that. His voice is so hot. And he’s MUCH better looking in person. Oh - and he’s absolutely fucking monstrous!

“Deano,” I repy, starstruck.

His mouth curls into a smile. And I’m melting. I feel like a big wet fucking puddle of a mess because I’m shaking hands with the biggest and hottest bodybuilder I’ve ever seen in real life. And he’s looking right at me. And fucking smiling at me.

“You’ve got an accent there!” he says, letting go of my hand. Tommy Foster is making conversation with me!

“Ummm … from the UK!” I suddenly seem unable to form a proper sentence. “I’m at Muscle University.”

“Oh - awesome!” he says, his eyes lighting up. “Aren’t you guys doing a guest posing spot tomorrow?”

I want this guy to marry me. Fucking NOW. All I can muster is a nod in response and then he asks me if I want a picture. I hand my phone to a guy working with him and Tommy grabs my hand again. I can’t believe I’m this close to a bodybuilder this huge. His mass engulfing me. It feels so fucking surreal. Will this be me one day? Will people be queuing up to meet and have a picture taken with me? I just can’t imagine it.

And just like that, it’s over and Connell’s up next. It went so fast. But fuck - it was so worth it. And now I’m on this incredible high. When Connell’s finished, he comes over to me, his eyes lit up and this excited smile on his face.

“Man - that was fucking awesome!” he says in his Irish accent. Which (not gonna lie) is pretty fucking sexy. And now we’re showing each other our photos and I’m actually sharing a moment with Connell. And I’m starting to think that maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all.

“Hey, dude - I’m sorry about the rooms, man.”

Okay - what the fuck? I was NOT expecting that. I have no idea what to say. 

“We didn't plan it or anything. The woman on reception asked us what rooms we were having and … well, Kieran just said two singles,” he explains, looking a little sheepish.

So it was fucking Keiran? 

“I told him afterwards we shouldn’t have done it. Sorry, dude!”

I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth and nod, looking over to see Mafra having his picture taken with The Tank.

“You guys don’t get with Ozzie, then?” I ask.

Connell surprises me by just shrugging and pulling an indifferent face. “I’ve never really spoken to him much. He and Kieran don’t get on though.”

I nod, starting to get the impression that Kieran’s the one Ozzie has a problem with.

“They used to be mates! I don’t really know what happened.”

Okay - what? I just glare at Connell, not knowing what the hell to say. Kieran and Ozzie were MATES? How do you go from being mates with someone to refusing to sit next to them on a plane? Weird. I get this bizarrely strong desire to know what happened. I know Ozzie won’t tell me though. Since we’re hardly friends. And we don’t actually talk about anything REMOTELY serious.

Nothing else at the expo beats the high of meeting Tommy, but at least the whole encounter has lifted my mood. I’m not really feeling that pissed off about the whole room thing either. At least not at this moment. 

When the expo starts to wind down, we decide to call it a day and head back to the hotel, Kieran and Connell retreating back to their room first. We have a few hours to kill before we head back to the convention centre to watch the press conference and meet the pros. There’s this undeniable air of anticipation. It's like we’re all aware we're on the verge of embarking on this amazing experience.

“D - text us if you wanna come to the room and hang out,” Ash says. Then I do the fist bump thing with both him and Mafra and head back to my room. 

I have NO idea whether I‘m going to be walking into an empty room. Or whether a certain fellow short-arsed bodybuilder is going to be sitting on the bed next to mine in a backwards cap waiting to annoy the hell out of me. 

I get my answer as soon as I walk into the room. Ozzie’s here. But he’s taken his backwards cap off. Oh - and he’s not sitting up either. He’s lying on his side. His head on the pillow. One of his big thick arms bulging out. It’s the LEAST annoying I’ve ever known him to be. But only because my new unwanted roommate is asleep. 

I quietly crash on my bed, careful not to wake Ozzie. I look over at him sleeping and something pinches in my chest. Why are the knobs always so good looking? I suddenly wonder what he’s been up to today. Maybe I can bring up the whole Kieran thing. But I don’t think he’d tell me anyway. Plus, I don’t want him to think that I actually care or anything.

I look at the picture of me and Tommy Foster on my phone. Fuck. Just looking at it gives me a buzz. I met Tommy “The Tank” Foster today. Holy crap! I load up Instagram. I very rarely actually post on Instagram. I just don’t really like putting too much of myself out there. I think I kind of like the idea of being fairly mysterious. I don’t really know why. 

I haven’t even mentioned that I’m in the States. Or at the McCarthy Classic. I guess posting the pic of me and Tommy would be a good way of letting people know. Plus - it's a picture of me with Tommy Foster. How can I not post that?

I copy in Tommy Foster’s IG handle. Which means he’s probably going to see the post. Well, in theory. He probably gets copied into so much stuff there’s a chance he won't take a second glance at it. But he might. Rumoured to be gay bodybuilder Tommy Foster might actually look at my Instagram.

I feel a heady rush as I post it. The likes start to come in. And they don’t stop coming. They’re fucking flooding in. Connell likes it. AJ Jones likes it. And so does Shaun! Shit - Shaun. I feel a pang of worry. What’s he going to think when he sees that picture? I hate the thought that it might make him feel like shit for not being here with us.

But then a comment comes through and I breathe a sigh of relief. Because it’s from Shaun.

OMG! Absolutely EPIC shot, mate!

Okay - that doesn’t mean to say he’s not sitting in our dorm room feeling other things as he looks at a picture of me and one of the world’s top 212 class bodybuilders. But I know Shaun. And I know that if he had a REAL problem with that picture, he wouldn’t have posted that comment.

The likes keep coming in. From Mafra. Some lads back at uni. And tons of people I don’t know. No like from Adam Lloyd though. At least not yet. Would he even like one of my Instagram posts after everything that happened? After my cold, “Maybe,” when he told me we should “catch up” when I’m back from the Chicago trip. I can still see the look on his face now. That expression. Who knows what went through his head. What he thinks about me. Ugh. Why am I thinking about him right now? STOP. I need that to get that whole fucking mess out of my head. 

I start scrolling through my Instagram feed. And then - HOLY FUCK. You know those bodybuilding pictures that make your heart jump into your throat? I’m looking at one right now. It’s a shot of Mitchell “The Machine” Murray flexing a front lat spread in a hotel room which looks very familiar. Because it’s THIS fucking hotel! And oh my God. He looks fucking monstrous! Like a seriously inhuman freak. He’s tanned up. Wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxer shorts that are riding up his mammoth sized thighs. Everything’s huge and bulging. The gaps between his forearms and lats are so narrow. And I’m going to get to meet that. In a few hours time! FUCK!

I hear Ozzie stirring and look over to see him fidgeting on the bed. I knew that wouldn’t last for long. 

“All right, Little Dude?” he says sleepily. I look over and see him propped up on his elbows. He still looks sleepy. 

“All right,” I say, turning back to my phone. For some reason, I’m not feeling that annoyed with him at the moment. I’m sure that could change very quickly though. “You a Tommy Foster fan?” I ask.

“Course!” he says. 

I get off my bed and stretch my arm out to Ozzie, my phone in my hand for him to take. He seems taken aback as he looks up at me. His eyebrows furrowing. Then he smiles. Not an annoying cocky smirk though. A genuine smile. It’s almost kind of coy.

He takes the phone off me and his grin gets bigger. “Very awesome!” Then he reaches for his own phone, plays with it for a few seconds then passes it to me, giving me this cheeky grin.

I take his phone off him. And now I’m looking at a picture of Ozzie with Tommy. Ha! Unlike me, Ozzie’s slightly taller. Tommy makes Ozzie look small. Which is no small feat. Ozzie looks so happy in the picture. I can’t help smiling. I nod and hand him his phone. “Very cool!” I say. His eyes meet mine. We’re smiling at each other. For a weird, brief moment it actually feels like we’re friends.

I go back to my bed and Ozzie retreats to the bathroom. When he comes back out he stops at my bed, stretches out his arms in a big dramatic yawn and then - he practically fucking JUMPS onto my bed, whacking my legs with his as he collapses on the mattress.

“OW! What the fuck are you doing?”

He lies fully down next to me after fidgeting about a little, his head on the pillow next to the one propped up behind my back. There’s barely an inch between our bodies. Then he looks up and over at me with a cheeky grin.

“Bonding with my new best mate!” he replies.

I roll my eyes and don't reply,

He squirms a bit more, crosses his hands over his stomach. His huge arms bulging. I’m glad I’m sitting up because I’m swelling in my skinny jeans. I know, I know. It’s fucking Ozzie. Annoying, pec bouncing, mohawked Ozzie. But he IS a bodybuilder. And his physique is amazing. How can I NOT have a hard on with him lying next to me?

“Your bed’s comfier than mine!” he exclaims.

“Cool! I’ll go and sit on yours then!” 

I look down and see him smirking as he closes his eyes and lets out a big sigh as if he’s getting comfortable. So Ozzie not annoying the hell out of me lasted what - of all about five fucking minutes?

“What ya doin’, Little Dude?” he asks, leaning over and trying to look at my phone screen, which I instinctively pull away, even though I’m only scrolling through Instagram. His t-shirt has lifted up a bit. I can see the bright green waistband of the boxers he’s wearing peeking out over the top of his trackies. A narrow bit of his hard, tanned stomach exposed. Which isn’t exactly helping my hard on.

I look at his face and narrow my eyes. “Why is your Instagram profile private?” I spit.

The corner of Ozzie's mouth starts to curl into a smirk. Then he pulls a face and shrugs. “It’s not?” he says, convincingly.

I furrow my eyebrows at him then turn back to Instagram on my phone. I type in his name and go to his profile. About to prove Ozzie wrong. Unless he’s changed it. And yep - he’s changed it! I can now see Ozzie’s profile in full. A topless picture of him flexing a front double bicep jumping out at me straight away. 

I look at him. “You’ve changed it!” I cry. “It was private when I looked.”

His mouth curls into a smirk. Like the weird, ominous one he gave me the first time we ever met. “Why are you looking at my Instagram profile, Little Dude?”

I feel a tug in my stomach. I roll my eyes and turn back to my phone.

“I’m making a voodoo doll,” I tell him flatly, “I needed a picture of your face.” 

Ozzie lets out this big, loud laugh. I look down. “I like that!” he says, beaming up at me.

And now I’m smiling too. (Despite myself.) It’s hard not to.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

I look down at him again. He’s still grinning at me. One of those genuine smiles that makes me momentarily forget that this guy annoys the fuck out of me and that we’re not actually friends.

“How’s the Tommy Foster post doing?” he asks.

“Erm. Already got a hundred and eighty likes.”

“FUCK!” he cries. Then he fidgets and leans his whole body closer to mine and I instinctively twist my body away. But he’s just getting his phone out of his pocket. He gives me a confused look at my reaction like it was a bit extreme, but he’s smirking too. 

He moves up the bed a little, leaning his head against the headboard and playing with his phone as he rests it on his chest. Why is he still lying on my bed? Wait - I know the answer to that. To annoy the hell out of me. That’s why. 

“So … why WAS your Instagram profile private?” I ask, feeling oddly nervous all of a sudden. Like I’m crossing some sort of line. 

I look over at him. He’s not looking up. He just lazily shrugs. “Sometimes I don’t like the idea of just anyone being able to look at my profile,” he says, still not looking up from his phone screen. I’m tempted to ask him if by “anyone” he really means Kieran.

“Didn’t think you cared what people thought!”

No reaction. But things feel a little serious all of a sudden. There’s this slightly awkward silence.

“Check your Instagram comments!” he says after a little while. He sounds a bit weird.

I go to my notifications and see that seth_ozzie_osman has left a comment.

“Oh God!” I groan, my body filling with dread. “What have you written?”

He rolls his eyes and pulls a face like he thinks I’m being dramatic. I look back at my phone and read the comment Ozzie’s written on my post of me and Tommy Foster.

Amazing pic of a bodybuilding legend meeting the future of 212 bodybuilding! 

What the fuck? I feel a pinch in my chest as I read the comment. I look over at Ozzie and narrow my eyes at him.

“What’s the catch?”

“HUH?!” he cries, with his face screwed up.

“Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”

He pulls another face and sits up. “I’m always nice to you!” he cries. His face is level with mine now. I pull a face as if to say, “Yeah right!”

“When have I not been NICE to you?” he asks. I’m surprised he didn’t do air quotes when he said the word nice. He kind of did them with his face.

“Erm … slagging off my posing? Calling it boring?”

He groans. “I told you. That was constructive criticism!”

“Constantly going on about how I should be cockier?”

Ozzie shrugs. “I’m just trying to inspire you!”

“Calling me LITTLE DUDE!”

He lets out a laugh. “That’s just my nickname for you! Jeeez - I knew you were sensitive but I didn’t know you were THIS sensitive!”

I look at him confused. “Why do you keep saying weird stuff like that? Like you know me or something?”

He groans and lies back down. “Okay - I THOUGHT you were sensitive. Jeeezus!”

He’s starting to piss me off again. 

“Okay. So I won’t call you Little Dude!”

“Good!” I say, defiantly, turning back to my phone. There’s an awkward silence. Until Ozzie finally speaks. 

“I’ll just have to think of another nickname to call you.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. I look down at him. And he’s smiling up at me. His arms bulging in that stupid “Osman’s Gym” t-shirt. Even though I really don’t want to, I find myself smiling back at him.

I don’t know if it’s because of the Instagram comment. Or what he said to me at breakfast about me being misunderstood. Or maybe it's just sitting here like this next to each other on this bed. But it feels like something between us has shifted. 

He’s still an annoying, cocky twat though. 

[Shade]

Oz and Deano just need to fuck already.

[DarkLord]

36 minutes ago, Shade said:

Оз и Дино уже нужно потрахаться.

Definitely so))