This was a mistake, Phil thought as he stepped into the warm room. What the hell was I thinking?
Except that he hadn’t been the one thinking, it had been done for him. Again.
At the ripe age of 51, Phil thought he was in a pretty good condition. As one of the team leaders and trainers of Stark Security, he had to be, but there was always room for improvement. Or, like Mel liked to say: he was too stiff especially from where he shouldn’t be. But Mel was a Chinese kung-fu goddess, her opinion didn’t count.
Nevertheless, Phil found himself on the doorstep of Redwing, a gym not far from his route to work. If he was being honest, he’d actually considered checking the place himself because he wanted some variation in his gym routine. The Stark building had a staff-only gym with a pretty decent selection of a treadmill, a cross-trainer, set of weights and some general cardio equipment, and a sauna, but it offered no classes. Phil had been on his way of finding a new gym when Mel had given him a note with an address and a time.
Hence, the gym. And a Hot Yoga class.
Phil stifled a sigh as he took in the beautiful people that probably were too flexible for their own good doing sun salutation exercises to warm up. Mel had told him to bring a couple of towels and two bottles of water with him and Phil had a sinking feeling he knew he’d need them. The room was way warmer than Phil was used to, and he figured he’d be sweating like a pig long before the class was over.
He chose a place from around the middle of the room, not too far back so that he’d actually see what he was supposed to do, but not too near the front to put himself on display.
He’d tried other classes before but they hadn’t clicked. He hoped this one would be worth his time.
Five minutes before the class started, the side door opened to let in perhaps the most beautiful man Phil had seen in a long, long while. He was about Phil’s height, a bit younger, with wrinkles around his eyes and a mop of unruly dark blond hair. He was barefoot and the tank top he was wearing was almost too indecent to be worn in public as it revealed his gorgeous arms and toned everything.
Phil had always had a thing about arms and this man was pure, unadulterated arm porn on display.
”Hi everyone!” the man called as he stepped in the front of the room. ”Seems like we have some new faces here. I’m Clint, your instructor. Welcome to Hot Yoga.” The grin he flashed promised unpleasant things in the near future.
Phil swallowed and braced himself.
When the class finished, Phil was completely wrung out, laying flat on his back and wondering if he could just sleep there. Or die, either was fine. His water was long gone and he had sweated through his clothes and his both towels. He had had no idea yoga could be so… gruelling.
”Are you alright?”
Phil opened his eyes and saw Clint squatting down beside him, peering at him worriedly.
”I don’t think I can move,” Phil mumbled.
Clint grinned at him and offered a hand to help him up. With a sigh, Phil took it and forced his legs to work, feeling unreasonably proud of himself when he didn’t instantly topple over.
Clint assisted him to his feet with an ease that spoke of serious strength and clapped him on the shoulder. ”Remember to hydrate and go to bed early,” Clint reminded. ”That should help. The next time will be easier.”
”I can’t believe how hard this was,” Phil groaned, bowing gingerly down to gather his stuff from the floor. ”And I work out because of my job, so it’s not like I’m in a bad shape.” He knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t have it in him to care right then.
”Security?” Clint asked with a raised brow.
Phil blinked. ”How did you know?” he asked, curious.
Clint shrugged. ”You have the vibe. I can usually spot people in the business. Anyway, this would do you some good. I hope you’ll be back.”
”I don’t think I have a choice,” Phil said dryly. ”My colleagues have taken me as their personal mission.”
Clint let out a full belly laugh and was about to say something when someone rapped the door frame and called out, ”Clint! Lunch, remember?”
A vaguely familiar looking black guy leaned on the door frame with his hands crossed at his chest. Phil had a feeling he’d seen his picture on Redwing’s website. The owner, perhaps?
”Ah, right! Sorry!” Clint said. He turned to give Phil a stern look. ”Drink, rest, understand? I’ll expect to see you next week…?” he asked, raising his brows.
”Phil,” Phil added helpfully.
Clint nodded. ”See you next week, Phil,” he said and jogged to the waiting guy.
Phil decided his ass looked at least as good as his arms.
”So, how was it?” Mel asked the next day.
”Torture,” Phil said as he sat gingerly down. He’d tried to follow Clint’s instructions; he’d drunk several bottles of water and Gatorade and gone bed early only to wake up at least seven times to pee. He was achy and grumpy and he didn’t really want to talk to Mel.
”Good,” she said and patted him on the shoulder. ”It’ll get better with time.”
Phil winced and tried to shift from under her hands without his everything hurting too much. ”What is it with you and sports that are more torture than actual sports?”
She shrugged. ”I’m Chinese,” she said blithely. ”Meeting starts in five. Bring coffee.”
It wasn’t like Phil had too much time with nothing to do. He was busy and his days were usually filled from morning ’till late evening, wrangling customers or his boss, doing paperwork, and overseeing the introduction of new staff members. When he wasn’t working, he either read, worked out, cooked, or walked around with his camera taking pictures.
It was a decent life but he couldn’t deny it was slightly lonely at times.
Because of the nature of his work, dating complete outsiders was challenging. Stark Security didn’t have any fraternization rules which was the reason so many of them ended up in a relationship with each other. Years back, Phil and Mel had dated for a while, but it hadn’t worked out. Fortunately, they both were sensible adults and had stayed good friends even after they’d ended their relationship.
There was something soothing about working with someone who knew you so well. Of course, it was also a hindrance and, at times, straight out annoying because Mel had absolutely no filters when voicing her opinions about his personal life. Phil had been at the receiving end of her stinging lectures often enough to grow resent them from the bottom of his heart — even when he fully earned them.
Thing was, Phil was picky.
He’d rather be alone than hop in bed with a stranger. He had a deep distaste for dating apps and he didn’t go out nearly often enough to actually meet anyone — and even if he did, that someone would have to accommodate to how much Phil’s work dictated his life.
It didn’t mean that Phil was blind — far from it. He appreciated the human body in all its forms, whether it was male, female, or non-binary, and he would’ve listed people watching as one of his favorite activities, if Mel hadn’t told him it made him creepy.
For example: Clint, the yoga instructor, was pretty much the ideal male Phil liked, whereas Mel was the ideal female (Phil didn’t need to tell her that, she already knew). Fit, toned, and powerful but in an understated way. Gorgeous smile and dry humor were a bonus.
Mel was convinced that Phil would feel better if he just got laid. Phil himself was more interested in working through one day without vicious heartburn.
Phil continued going to Redwing and not only because he wanted to prove Mel he could do it. It was more about Phil slowly learning his way through asanas and his body accommodating to the stretches and heat of the yoga room. And, well, seeing Clint’s arms at least once a week was a definite bonus.
Gradually, the post-class bone-deep exhaustion gave way to relaxation and an overall good feeling and, after a couple of months, he no longer felt like a pensioner after a double hip replacement surgery. He was still waiting for the ’bursts of productive energy’ and ’a new level of clear-headedness’ usually associated with yoga, but perhaps they’d come later. Unless working for Stark gave him a stroke before that.
As Phil grew more confident, he moved his place in the class up a bit. Not to the front row — that was reserved for the mothers in their forties eagerly hanging on Clint’s every pose — but a bit closer, as if to let Clint know he was serious about this yoga thing. Not that Phil really meant anything by it. He was far too reserved to put himself on a display (cue: the mothers in their forties), but he couldn’t deny he’d like it if Clint noticed him a bit more. He knew it was silly but he did it anyway.
Phil’s eyes were drawn to him every time he saw him, both in and out of class. Clint was charismatic and attractive but he was also kind, smart, and sometimes plain goofy. And, three months into the yoga classes, Phil realized Clint was also taken: where Clint was, was also the gym’s owner, Sam. Clint’s most common place out of class was draped over Sam’s back, chin hooked over his shoulder and arms around Sam’s midriff.
Figures, Phil thought. The best ones are always taken.
”Are you coming tonight?” Mel asked one day over her cup of noodles, wrapping them expertly around her chopsticks with an ease Phil could only dream of mastering.
”Where?”
Mel rolled her eyes. ”Redwing’s Christmas party is tonight, remember? I told you about it a couple of weeks ago.”
”Ahh… right. That,” Phil said sheepishly.
He had totally forgotten. The past couple of weeks had been a whirlwind of meetings and planning and, annoyingly, placating some hillbilly congressman who was determined Stark Security’s logo was an emblem of Space Nazis. Phil had said that while ’SS’ hadn’t been the most delicate of logos, it definitely did not have anything to do with Nazis, space or other kind.
Mel gave him an unimpressed look. ”I’m taking you with me. You need to get out a bit.”
”Why would I want to do that at a gym?” Phil asked, genuinely confused.
”Because it’s an invite only party and Nat invited me,” Mel said as she got up to rinse her noodle bowl.
”Ah,” Phil said.
Even though Redwing was a relatively small place, it offered a lot more than just hot yoga and gym hours. There were weekly kickboxing and Krav Maga lessons, and PT services were available on call. Like Clint, Nat was one of Redwing’s senior instructors just like James who, despite missing his left arm, was one of the best kickboxers Phil had seen. Nat and Mel had trained together for over a decade, and some of Mel’s unconventional moves came from her Krav Maga routine.
Phil would’ve given his left kidney to have a front seat on one of their training sessions but every time he’d gathered up the courage to ask, Mel had shot him down even before he’d opened his mouth. That woman was a mind reader.
As the silence stretched, Phil realized Mel was still waiting for an answer. ”Yeah, okay, I’ll go with you,” he agreed and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t really feel like partying but perhaps he’d be able to sneak out after a couple of hours.
”Great,” Mel said. ”I’ll see you at seven. Wear the maroon button-down.”
Phil narrowly avoided rolling his eyes. Mel called that shirt his DILF outfit and she always recommended him to wear if he wanted to get laid. Phil wasn’t sure what Mel thought was going to happen at a gym Christmas party, but he highly doubted it was something that required wearing the shirt.
Phil knew what he wished could happen, but since he’d never been the one to purposefully go after a taken guy, he kept his wishes to himself.
When they arrived, Redwing was surprisingly packed. Sam had closed the place up earlier and temporarily revoked the key cards due to a private party. Phil only recognized a handful of people and after making the obligatory rounds with Mel, he was more than happy to find a quiet corner and nurse his drink in peace until he could leave.
Behind the counter, the staff of Redwing handed out reindeer horns and Santa hats along with drinks. Phil spied Nat’s fiery red hair behind one bulking guest and heard Sam’s laugh, but to his disappointment, he didn’t see Clint.
He frowned into his cup and felt like an idiot for trying to get a glimpse of the yoga instructor but he couldn’t help himself. He liked Clint and not just because of his looks, and he had wanted to wish Clint a Merry Christmas. It was just good manners, that’s all.
”Is it that bad?” an amused voice asked.
Startled, Phil looked up to see Clint, balancing on the balls of his feet and his hands tucked into the pocket of his tight jeans.
”What?” he asked.
”Um, you were scowling at the punch like it personally offended you,” Clint said and offered a sheepish smile. ”I made it so…”
Phil hurried to shake his head. ”No, no, it’s really good. See?” He downed the rest of his drink in one go and saluted Clint with the empty cup.
Clint blinked. ”Okay,” he said and nodded. He hesitated, then shot a quick glance behind him. ”I was thinking… would you like to go for a drink later?”
”Huh?”
”I don’t mean tonight, but sometime. Later. Like, next week or after Christmas?” Clint continued. When Phil just stared at him without saying a word, he rubbed his neck and shrugged, turning partially away. ”You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I just— I guess I wanted to—”
As Phil stayed silent, Clint offered him a tight smile, not quite meeting his eyes. ”Merry Christmas anyway,” he said and turned to go.
”Wait!” Phil said, his brain kicking to life. ”What?”
Clint looked at him with slightly narrowed eyed and said, slowly, ”I asked you out.”
”But… you’re with Sam, aren’t you?” Phil sputtered.
Clint’s face went through some comical expressions and then he burst into laughter.
”It’s not a completely unfounded assumption,” Phil said, somewhat offended by Clint’s reaction. ”You’re basically attached at the hip.”
”You thought— Sam and I—” Clint wheezed and fought to compose himself and wiped his eyes. ”Okay, I can see where you’re coming from… barely. Sam and I are just really good friends.” He grinned and shook his head. ”But he’s straight as a pole and I’m more into older, competent men anyway. And you… kinda fit that description.”
”Oh,” Phil croaked, wishing he had a drink instead of an empty cup in his hand. He cleared his throat and said, ”In that case…”
They ended up in the kitchen, making out like teenagers. As it turned out, Clint very much enjoyed being pressed against the wall and kissed to within an inch of his life and Phil was more than happy to provide. He felt giddy and lightheaded and only part of it was because of the punch. He was drunk on Clint, his scent and lips, his muscles that flexed and rippled under his skin, and the way he groaned into Phil’s mouth when Phil gripped his hips and ground against him.
”We should—” Clint gasped into his mouth.
”Yes,” Phil interrupted and bit his lower lip.
”No, I mean,” Clint tried again. ”This is the kitchen.” He pushed Phil away a bit and rested their foreheads together. ”We’re in the gym’s kitchen,” he said and huffed a laugh. ”Fuck.”
”If that’s your choice,” Phil said, fully aware how cliche it sounded.
Clint rolled his eyes and let his head fall back with a thunk. Phil resisted biting the exposed throat and rubbed his thumbs on Clint’s sides instead.
Someone cleared their throat from behind Phil.
”Are you done?” Mel asked dryly. ”Apparently, we’re out of cherries and Sam sent me to get more.”
Phil groaned and dropped his forehead against Clint’s shoulder. Mel was never going to let him live this one down. He was sure of it.
”You should be grateful, you know,” Mel said as she rummaged the fridge. ”Sam wanted to send Nat but James held him back.”
”Oh praise the Lord,” Clint said with feeling.
Mel ignored him. ”If someone asked me—”
”—Which nobody did,” Phil interjected.
”—It was about time,” Mel continued. ”Phil’s been moping since the first lesson.”
”No I haven’t,” Phil grumbled into Clint’s shoulder.
”He thought Sam and I were together,” Clint said.
Phil didn’t need to turn to look at Mel. He felt the weight of her disappointment boring in the nape of his neck just fine.
”For a bisexual, your gaydar is in serious need of an upgrade,” Mel said. ”Or, you could’ve just asked me.”
”I think I’m ready to go home now,” Phil said, deciding to ignore her.
”Good choice,” Mel approved and turned to lead the way out of the kitchen.
Phil grabbed Clint’s hand and tugged him along. He didn’t want to let go of him, not after he’d finally gotten a taste. He wanted to bring Clint home and take him to bed and never get up again. Or at least not until Monday.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he stumbled when Clint stopped and yanked him back. Confused, he turned, wondering if something was wrong. Instead, he met Clint’s smirk and mischievous eyes.
”Oh look, a mistletoe,” Mel said flatly from behind him and heaved a put-upon sigh before walking away.
Phil grinned and dived into another kiss.