Chapter Text
Bif stared down at his phone, rereading the simple text message he sent to Derby— 'You coming to practice?'— but as the seconds ticked by, he got no response, and natural worry began to cloud his mind.
He figured that Derby had a meeting of some sort, or maybe had to go see his dad, but either way Bif felt a pang of disappointment at the absence of his boyfriend; not just because he missed him, but now he had no one to properly practice with.
He clicked his phone off and shoved it into his duffle bag, eyes scanning the club silently— Chad and Bryce were occupied with each other, as were Justin and Tad, and Parker seemed content in his own corner with a punching bag; it took him a minute to realize, but a certain flirty brunet was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn't unusual for Gord to be late to practice; he was in law school, so naturally that took up most of his time, and if it wasn't his studies, he was off shopping or somewhere roaming his hands all over some random chick or dude, or hell, maybe even both at the same time— Bif scoffed to himself at the thought, giving a light shake of his head with a smirk upon his lips.
Just as he was about to stand up to go make his way to the locker room, the doors to the club swung open, and in came Gord, looking as prim and stylish as ever. Bif's gaze lingered on him as he entered, and as Gord's eyes naturally scanned the room, they landed on Bif, who seemed to be the only one not doing anything, wasn't even in his athletic clothes yet— That was certainly out of character.
He gave him a greeting smile from across the way, and Bif gave one back, prompting Gord to stride over to him, his designer gym bag hanging off his shoulder.
"Not in the mood to practice? That's certainly unlike you," the brunet teased as he settled himself in front of the sitting man, glancing down at him with a playful smirk.
"I was waiting for Derby, but he's a no-show," Bif admitted gruffly, scratching at his head as he looked up at Gord, "You wanna take his place?"
"Who, me?" Gord cooed as he placed a hand upon the middle of his own chest in a gesture of surprise and flattery, "Why, you've never asked me to spar with you, Bif."
"Yeah, well, I'd usually feel bad breaking that pretty face of yours," Bif chuckled as he leaned back on the bench, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, "But my options are kinda limited right now."
"Ohh, you think I'm pretty?" the smaller prep gave a coquettish bat of his eyelashes, biting his lower lip just slightly as he tilted his head, and Bif just laughed, standing up to his tall stature as he brought a large hand out to push his palm against his forehead, playfully shoving him back a bit.
"Don't start, Vendome," he teased as Gord took a slight stumble backwards— Gord grinned wide at the contact, enjoying the playful attention from the brute.
Gord always thought Bif was attractive— The redhead was everything he liked in a man; masculine, confident, tough, handsome— but he knew he'd never have a chance with him, given that he was Derby's stupid little lapdog, but someone being unavailable certainly never stopped that flirt.
"So do you want to fight me or not?" Bif asked as he grabbed his bag from the bench, slinging it over his shoulder before casually making his way toward the locker room— Gord wasted no time following along by his side.
"I suppose so," he mused, glancing up at Bif with a smirk, having to really kink his head up due to their height difference, "Though I shall warn you, my skills have drastically improved."
Bif laughed as he pushed the door open with a loud creak, not even giving the other prep a simple glimpse.
"Oh, yeah? How? You're always late, and when you are here, you're either on your phone or too busy worrying about your hair being messed up," he taunted as they walked over to the lockers, placing his bag down upon the bench before pulling out his workout clothes.
Gord rolled his eyes dramatically as he set his own bag down beside Bif's, fingers unzipping the pouch to retrieve his neatly folded uniform.
"I'll have you know there are times where I come in after hours, and Bryce has been oh-so kind enough to give me some pointers in the gym room back at the house," he explained to him in a condescending tone, peeling off his sweater vest and folding it before placing it on the bench.
"Is that why it always stinks in there when I go in?" Bif teased as he pulled his polo off in one swift motion, crudely implying that the two men do more than just boxing.
Gord scoffed loudly at the accusation, fingers coming up to undo his tie.
"Don't be such a pervert," he shot back through an amused smirk, "Besides, even if that were the case, which it isn't, I'd say you're just jealous."
"Yeah, okay," Bif chuckled as he carelessly tossed his shirt over the back of the bench, kicking his shoes off in the process, "I don't do jealousy, it's an ugly look; I don’t wanna fuck up my hotness."
Gord couldn't help but let his eyes rake along the redhead's torso, admiring the ridges of his muscles, all the fresh and faded bruises that riddled his skin, and how his nipples were hard from the cool air of the locker room— ‘Hotness’ was definitely an understatement.
"Well, I certainly do," the brunet said as he slid the tie out of the collar of his shirt, letting it pool over his folded vest, "I’ll say, you are looking absolutely divine— I don't understand how you can reach such a sculpted figure so easily."
He continued to shamelessly check the redhead out, fingers beginning to unbutton his shirt one by one in a slow manner, seemingly mesmerized by the sight before him.
"This shit ain't easy," Bif scoffed as he began undoing his belt, barely noticing Gord's prying eyes, "All I do is workout— I wake up at five nearly every day to run, of course there’s practice, then before bed I’ll lift some weights—" he explained as he pulled his pants down, revealing his pale, strong thighs, "I eat a lot, too, that's important— and it helps that I'm naturally just big, you know?”
Bif never passed up an opportunity to brag about himself, especially when it came to his physique; it was, after all, what made him so known and respected, though feared was a more fitting word.
The brunet's tongue snaked out to wet his lips as he watched Bif strip down to his briefs— the man was practically a Greek god, and Gord had half a mind to drop to his knees before him right then and there, but even someone as risky as him had self-control.
"Mm, well, all that hard work certainly pays off," he purred as he slid his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his own bare chest and torso, "Though I can't say I envy your schedule— I'd much rather spend my mornings sleeping in."
"And that's why people like you look at people like me in awe," Bif smugly stated as he reached down to poke two playful fingers at Gord's abdomen, teasingly pressing into the lean flesh, his usual goofy cackle leaving his lips.
The unexpected touch sent a jolt through Gord's body, a wide grin plastering across his face as he dramatically clutched his stomach to stop those thick fingers from prodding at him. The teasing contact felt absolutely electric, and Gord was delighted at the attention, even if Bif was technically making fun of him.
"Are you bodyshaming me, Bif?" he gasped mockingly as he turned his body away, hands snaking up to cover his bare skin as if he were a pin-up model.
Bif just laughed as he went back to undressing— He casually pulled his underwear down, tossing the discarded fabric onto the bench before slipping on his compression shorts. Next came the athletic cup, which he adjusted with practiced ease before putting his boxing uniform on.
Gord froze at the sight of Bif completely nude, brown eyes blowing wide as they focused on his exposed cock— Of course, it wasn't hard, and Gord had seen it countless of times over the years, but it never failed to make his face flush and heart begin to pound. He forced himself to look away, biting his lip as he went back to undressing himself.
"You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a twink," the redhead lightheartedly stated as he sat down on the bench to lace up his boots.
Gord's hands suddenly paused at his belt, stopping mid-action as he glanced back up at Bif before whipping his head to the mirror he was standing in front of.
"I'm not a twink!" he protested loudly as his eyes scanned the reflection of his body, "I'm— I'm a twunk! I'm not that skinny to be considered a twink! And how do you even know such vocabulary?" his head whipped back towards Bif, who was still seated on the bench, lacing up his boots— He let out a loud bark of laughter at Gord's offended reaction.
"Even Tad has more muscle than you— You’re a total twinkie, Gordie," he explained with a ridiculing grin, finishing up his laces before standing to his towering height, "And I know the vocab 'cause I use the internet, duh."
"Oh, I'm sure you do, searching dirty sites and all," Gord grumbled as he finally peeled off his pants, stepping out of them elegantly and neatly folding them, and Bif just shook his head and rolled his eyes, though his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink at the accusation.
Now that Gord was in just his underwear, he took this as an opportunity to prove himself, flexing his muscles as he analyzed himself in the mirror. His physic was absolutely nothing compared to Bif's, but he had muscle, had definition— He wasn't a frail, bony weakling, and he'd be damned if he let Bif label him as such.
He turned his torso slightly, lifting his arms up and flexing them particularly hard, lips pursed as if he had a camera on him. Bif's eyebrows raised at the display, actually fairly impressed, but upon seeing his face, he couldn't help but chuckle— He reminded him of Derby by doing that.
He pushed himself off the bench, positioning himself behind Gord and raising his own arms in a bulging flex— The difference was staggering, Bif towering over his short stature while his biceps were nearly doubled the size of his.
"See the difference?" the redhead teased, watching Gord's expression twist into one of frustration and embarrassment.
"Well, of course there's a difference!" Gord suddenly turned around to face the redhead, cheeks now a noticeable shade of pink, "You are an unfair example!"
"Baby, I am the example," Bif cackled cockily before bringing his flexed arms down, reaching a hand out to ruffle the brunet's perfectly styled hair, in which Gord whined pathetically, though made no attempt at smacking his hand or stepping away.
"Now quit your complaining and get dressed," Bif commanded him in an easygoing, teasing tone as he grabbed his water bottle from his bag, making his way towards the door— As he passed Gord, he brought his palm down in a sudden, playful smack against his butt, causing him to flinch and gasp theatrically.
Bif didn't look back, just laughed at the man’s response as he pushed through the door, disappearing behind the wall. Gord stood frozen for a moment, face a deep shade of red as he stared in shock at the closed door— To Bif, that was just typical locker room antics, but to Gord, that smack was something way more than crude dude-humor.
After putting his uniform on and taking a moment to collect himself, Gord made his way into the gym, finding Bif already in the ring; he was sitting on the ground with his legs spread, stretching his arms over them with his eyes closed, focusing on the dull ache in his muscles. Gord climbed into the ring, and upon hearing the rustle of the mat, Bif opened his eyes, glancing at the smaller man before shutting them again, a cocky smirk upon his lips.
"Better start stretching, princess, 'cause I'm not going easy on you," he taunted as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his knee.
Gord's eyes lingered on his stretched form, swallowing hard as he got lost in those muscles, impressed by how flexible this big, burly man was— His thoughts began to roam, wondering just how flexible Bif could be, but before he could delve into all the naughty possibilities, he cleared his throat and turned his back to him, bending forward in an exaggerated stretch.
"I don't expect you to," he retorted as he splayed his fingers on the mat, subconsciously hoping that Bif might be watching him the way he had been watching him.
As Bif switched over to the other leg, his head naturally lifted, eyes opening, and he was instantly met with the sight of Gord bent over— he definitely noticed the way his shorts were pulled tight over his pushed-out ass, and it was in that moment that his vision tunneled, pupils dilating as he kinked his head slightly to the side.
Despite his heart belonging to Derby, Bif was still human, a young man at that; his eyes were guilty of roaming others every now and again, and Gord had always been undeniably cute, but there was something about that stretching position that was absolutely hypnotizing.
He chalked it up to not getting any action in nearly a week, so naturally any form of suggestive sight was going to catch his attention, but he didn't feel any sparks back in the locker room when Gord was nearly naked— So why was this suddenly doing it for him?
He could see Gord's face poking through his spread legs, eyes closed as he focused on the stretching of his calves and hamstrings, seemingly unaware of Bif's gaping stare, though the redhead was quick to avert his head away when he suddenly lifted himself up.
Gord didn't look back at Bif at first, rather brought his arm up over his chest, pressing his other arm against it to get a good stretch in his triceps. His eyes scanned the gym, taking in how the other preps were still busy with their own workouts before turning his head over his shoulder to glance back at Bif— The redhead was still on the floor, face pressed into his knee as he continued to stretch his legs.
The two men continued their stretches for a while longer, sneaking glances at each other when the other wasn't paying attention, both lost in their own thoughts— Gord kept replaying in his mind Bif looming behind him in the locker room and gloating, most notably the playful smack against his ass, while Bif couldn't shake the image of Gord bent over. Finally, once they were both loose and ready to rumble, they slipped their gloves on and got into position.
Bif rolled his shoulders, giving his neck a good crack before putting his hands up and beginning to bounce on the pads of his feet— Gord did the same, though he wasn't nearly as graceful on his toes as Bif was.
"You ready?" Bif asked through a wide grin, cocky as ever, already anticipating an easy win— Gord grinned back, nodding as he raised his gloved fists.
Bif didn't lunge forward right away, rather let Gord approach him first— Even though he said he wasn't going to go easy on him, he still didn't want to outright destroy him; he'd let the brunet get a feel first, throw the first punch, then it would be game on.
"You sure you don't wanna wear headgear?" Bif teased as they circled each other, and Gord just let out a laugh.
"How about you just aim for my body, big boy?" Gord shot back with a wink before suddenly lunging forward with a surprising speed— He threw a punch right at Bif's ribs, immediately followed up by another aimed at his other side.
Bif barely had time to react, grunting at the sudden impact, but his grin was quick to return— He sidestepped Gord's next swing and countered with a jab to his shoulder. Gord staggered, but before Bif could capitalize, he ducked low and popped back up with an uppercut that got him right under the jaw.
Bif’s teeth painfully clacked together as he stumbled back just slightly, “Woah, I thought you said we were just taking body shots?!” he hissed.
“My face is off limits, but yours is free game,” Gord cooed as he bounced on his toes, in which Bif scoffed and suddenly removed his gloves, throwing them down onto the mat below.
“Fuck you, let me get my mouthguard then,” he grumbled as he slid out of the ring and made his way to the locker room.
Gord’s steps halted as he watched the redhead’s mini outburst— Oh, hell, now he was mad, and now Gord felt bad.
As he watched the large prep angrily push through the door, Gord sighed before removing his gloves and sliding out of the ring himself, jogging toward the locker room to fetch his own mouthguard.
Upon entering, he was met with Bif staring at himself in the mirror with furrowed brows as he rubbed at his jaw.
“I’m sorry, chap,” Gord awkwardly apologized as he made his way over to his bag, “I fear I got a little excited.”
Bif rolled his eyes, letting out a huff of a chuckle, “Clearly.”
Gord unzipped the small pouch and pulled out his own mouthguard, turning to face Bif with a lopsided smile, “How about I let you get a punch in to call it even?”
“Oh, way ahead of you,” Bif snickered as he turned around, “I was already planning on getting my revenge.”
“Wait, you were going to punch me without my guard?!” Gord whined.
“Hey, man, that’s exactly what you did to me!” Bif cackled as he playfully shoved the smaller man back, prompting Gord to laugh and stumble, his back hitting the locker with a metallic clank.
“Okay, yes, that’s true, but a punch from you without protection would surely break my teeth!” he pointed out, and Bif just laughed and shook his head.
“This is why you don’t fuck around, ‘cause you’ll surely find out,” he snickered as he cornered the smaller man against the locker, his large figure casting a shadow over him.
Despite the playful atmosphere, Gord’s eyes widened as the ginormous brute breached his space, his throat tightening and cheeks flushing. He parted his lips to speak, but before he could say anything, Bif was speaking again.
“But in all honesty, I can already tell you really have gotten better,” he smiled down at him as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, “Good for you, twinkie.”
Gord’s groomed brows furrowed over his eyes as his nervous gaze shifted to an irritated glare, his own arms folding over his chest, “Don’t call me that.”
Bif scoffed, “What, you gonna punch me again?” he challenged as he leaned down slightly, in which Gord’s lips kinked up into a smirk— Without hesitation, he stood on his toes to reach Bif’s looming face, planting a soft kiss upon his jaw where he had previously hit him.
Bif’s eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, blinking a few times before slowly straightening his back out, kinking his head to the side as he stared down at Gord with a confused gaze, though he was smiling ever so slightly— Gord didn’t shy away or begin laughing, showing no indication that he was joking, and when Bif realized that he actually had made a move on him, he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, “The hell was that?”
Honestly, Gord didn’t even know what that was— Bif was so close to him, it was just second nature to use his lips, but as the realization of what he did hit him, he felt panic begin to bubble within, his haughty exterior starting to crumble, “I, uh…”
The image of Gord bent over in the ring earlier flashed through Bif’s mind, and now paired with the lingering feeling of his lips against his skin, something inside him suddenly clicked— He swallowed, staying silent as he continued to stare down at the blushing prep for a moment longer before slowly uncrossing his arms, bringing a hand up by his head against the locker as he leaned down into his space once more.
“Do that again.”