Fragile

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 2 Fragile

“WHAT do you think, Doc?” The deep-timbred voice came out of nowhere, pitched low and close to the ear of interim team doctor, Andy Jameson, so that he felt it down to his toes. Stifling a start, Andy closed his eyes for a second, relishing the warm breath at his cheek, before he swallowed hard and refocused on the injured player in front of him. “Umm, Coach….” He struggled, clearing his throat, sparing only a sidelong glance at the man pressed close to his side, the heat that radiated off his much larger body and seeped through the layers of Andy’s clothes making it hard for Andy to concentrate. He took another deep, steadying breath, taking in the autumnal scent he would always wistfully associate with the coach, before continuing on. “Coach Sheridan. It looks pretty bad, as you can see.” Andy willed his fingers steady as he pointed out areas of concern. Having this man so close—close enough to reach out and touch and taste, if he were to give in to his rampant urges—was its own kind of torture for Andy, but he had a job to do and couldn’t let his errant infatuation, and way too vivid imagination, lead him astray. “Definitely needs to be checked out at the medical center.” Andy spoke to both the coach and player as he confidently drew up the dose of anesthetic to help minimize the pain. Not that it could swell much more, the knee now grotesquely large and turning that angry shade of purple that meant the bruising went to the bone.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 3 “They’re on their way,” the coach reassured him. He knew how bad it had been. The hit had been painful to watch: a 300-pound steamroller, pile-driving helmet first into the receiver’s knee. “Bad” was an understatement. Andy nodded his head, turning his focus away from the coach and back to the injured player sprawled on the table in front of him, still suited up in his game-time garb. A loud groan of pain from the big guy put the coach into action helping a few assistant trainers remove the uncomfortable padded uniform as gently as they could after Andy inserted the needle into the wounded knee. Everyone froze at the sight of the needle piercing the painful injury and the sound the player made as Andy pushed the plunger, but all were soon shuffled and pushed away as the EMTs arrived. It was one of those nights that seemed to go on forever as Andy saw to a few other minor injuries while the coach went to the hospital to watch over his player. It was closing in on 2 a.m., and Andy was sitting at the desk in the coach’s anteroom filling out the requisite papers on post-game injuries when he heard footsteps behind him. It always gave him a little hitch whenever he saw the coach, but watching him walk in now was like a pain to the center of his chest. This was Andy’s last night on the job, as he had turned in his notice a little more than a month earlier. The job had been contracted from spring practice until the last game of the regular season, and had seemed the perfect, easy break it had truly ended up being before he started his full-time residency in a little less than two weeks at the hospital the injured player had just been taken to.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 4 It was bittersweet. The easy ride he had signed up for in the beginning had ended up being a whole lot more than he had hoped for—and that hope was just walking in the door. This was the last night he’d be working with Coach Sheridan, unless he didn’t mind tainting his karma and wishing for more injuries like tonight, just on the off chance of catching a glimpse of the coach. Andy couldn’t wish that on anyone, no matter what it meant to him personally. No, this was it. So he watched as the man walked toward him now, as he removed his overcoat and hung it on the rack inside the door; watched as he pulled down the already loosened tie at his throat and opened yet another button on his shirt. In all his disheveled glory, he was the sexiest man Andy had ever seen. Being able to look at him had been the biggest perk to Andy’s job. “Doc, you look as tired as I feel.” His voice was deep and scratchy, as if he had been talking too much, though it was probably due more to the emotional overload. He nodded his head toward the stack of papers lying on the desk in front of Andy. “You about finished there?” Andy’s head bobbled like one of those dolls as he continued to stare up at the man standing in front of him. He must have looked like an idiot, but he was too tired to care. These were the last few moments he’d be in the coach’s presence, and he was going make the most of them. Andy cleared his throat when he noticed the half-smile the coach had on his face, bringing him back to reality. “I just need you to sign off on them, here.” He began shuffling the papers nervously, searching to put the ones on top that needed the coach’s signature.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 5 He nearly jumped out of his skin when the coach’s big hand clasped his shoulder. “Bring them inside; we’ll take care of them.” The warmth of the Coach Sheridan’s palm remained even after he turned to head into his office, leaving Andy to snatch up the papers and follow him. “It’s been a helluva day,” Coach Sheridan offered, closing the office door as Andy followed behind him. The coach hung his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair before collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. He shoved his fist through his salt and pepper locks, pulling on them in complete frustration. “A helluva day.” He laid his head back against the leather of his seat, his eyes closed, every line of his body echoing the tiredness that was etched onto his face. “That was a career-ending injury.” His voice was barely audible, stretched thin with pain. “Just a kid and his dream could be over.” This was one of the aspects of the coach that made him so attractive to Andy. Beyond the rugged good looks and the swagger of a man who was keenly aware of his appeal to those around him, he had compassion. To the outside, these players were nothing more than athletes chosen to increase the odds of the team making it to a post-season bowl game, but to those who were lucky enough to see inside the locker rooms and to be present at practices, these were the coach’s kids. In his late forties, and having never been married, he took these players under his wing. He was always there for them to lend an ear, offer support, to give advice. Those kids looked up to him, and the mutual respect they had was the reason the football team played so consistently well.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 6 Andy didn’t know what to say… what to do. He sat down in the opposite chair, forgetting the papers for now. “Is that what they said?” he asked quietly, wishing now he had gone to the hospital too. A lot of truth was in what the doctors didn’t say. The coach sat up with a groan, rubbing his hands roughly against his face, as if trying to fight the exhaustion he had to be feeling after such a long day. “You know how doctors are.” His smirk made Andy’s stomach flip. “Cautiously optimistic, they say. But you saw it, hell, we heard it, out there on the field. If the surgery is successful, you know how fragile that knee will be from here on out. This was his last year, this was his last game….” He left the thought hanging as he reached across the desk for the papers awaiting his signature. “Lot of lasts happening tonight,” he offered quietly as he absently signed off on Andy’s reports without even reading over them. “Not a great send-off, is it?” He smiled, signing the last one and putting his pen down before deftly pulling his tie from around his neck. “You are now no longer an employee of the university.” “Well, not the Athletic Department, that’s true.” Andy offered a tired smile. “It’s been great working with… the team. And, you, of course, working with you.” He stumbled over the words, nervously working them in. He mentally shook himself, but it was hitting him—this would be the last time he’d be in the presence of Coach Sheridan. The last time…. “Yes, great.” The coach gave up a killer smile, slapping his hands on his thighs before he stood up. “And what kind of bon voyage has this been? We need a drink.” The coach

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 7 walked around his desk, unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then we are heading out for a farewell celebration.” Andy wanted to open his mouth and tell him, “No, that’s okay,” but he just sat there with his mouth open, watching with wide-eyed adoration that he couldn’t have hidden if he tried as the coach removed his shirt and stepped into the bathroom. The shirt landed in a heap on a chair, and Andy could have sworn Coach Sheridan gave him a wink as he closed the door. He slumped into his chair with a groan of frustration. Now he was imagining things? Coming to the conclusion that his momentary insanity was due to the combination of weariness and wishful thinking, he tried, without success, to keep from thinking about the man on the other side of that door. He wanted to melt right through the floor, thinking he just might if he let his mind concentrate on the sound of water coming from the bathroom. The coach naked, wet, with soap-slick skin…. The thought made Andy’s fingers itch with the need to feel it for himself. Oh, God, he didn’t need to be anywhere near a drink and the coach at the same time. That was definitely a bad idea. He looked at his watch and was reminded of how just how late it was. True, it was a college town, but surely nothing would be open at this hour. Knowing he couldn’t depend on that possibility, Andy was still trying to come up with a good excuse to leave when the coach opened the door. Holy shit.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 8 A towel wrapped low on his narrow hips, the coach was a chiseled, dripping-wet god that Andy ached to worship. A knowing half-smile ghosted the coach’s mouth as he rubbed another towel against his wet head. “It’s all yours.” He motioned with a quick thrust of his chin in the general direction of the bathroom. With his own absent nod of acknowledgement before standing up, Andy found himself heading to the bathroom, not even sure that he needed to go, but he was with it enough to understand he needed to break the unknowing spell Coach Sheridan had him under. The bathroom was still humid from the shower, the scent of soap and lingering spice hanging in the heavy, damp air, forcing images into Andy’s head that definitely didn’t need to be there. Wasting as much time as he thought prudent, Andy finally used the toilet and washed his hands. While the water was still cool, he splashed some on his face before letting his head hang from his shoulders over the bowl as it filled. The steam rising from the rapidly heating water did little to soothe his frazzled nerves. This was the time for inner pep talks and self-promises, but he just couldn’t manage any of that now. Andy was in love with a man who had no idea, and how sad was that? It was a good thing this was his last night on the job; Andy didn’t know how much longer he could take being near him… wanting him… needing him, and knowing nothing would ever come of it but all of that one-sided want. Wearier with the sadness of that realization than he had ever been before, he worked up the courage to finally look at himself in the mirror. Through the rising steam from the

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 9 water that was still running, he saw his reflection and what was written in the foggy condensation gathered on the glass. Still dressed in nothing more than his towel, Coach Sheridan stood, leaning against his desk, bare feet crossed at the ankles, his arms at each side, supporting his weight on the smooth edge of the wooden desk. He was the perfect outward example of calm and collected—except the tension in his shoulders, forearms, stomach, and thighs showed a man laid bare and scared about what he had just revealed. Andy stared at him from the doorway, his mind reeling, looking at him, really, for the first time; looking at the coach, taking him in with no fear. He watched the coach’s throat work, swallowing before he spoke. “You’re leaving… won’t be working here… I….” It was the strangest sensation. Andy couldn’t feel his hands or his feet, a strange kind of heat taking their place. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, and didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke. “I want… I need to hear….” His mouth snapped shut as he locked eyes with the coach, getting lost in their aquamarine depths. “What you wrote….” The dead weight of his hand followed through with the mental command, indicating the bathroom. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Doc.” The coach wrapped his arms around his chest. Andy shook his head. “No.” The coach winced at that tiny word and rubbed his arms roughly as if against a chill. “No.” Andy pointed to the bathroom, holding the Coach Sheridan’s level gaze. “I want to hear you say it—what you wrote on that mirror.”

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 10 Realization seemed to dawn on the coach, his eyes shining three shades brighter as his face split with a grin. The coach rolled up from his perch on the desk, fluid in his movements as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Andy. Andy’s skin flushed ice-cold, then white-hot, when the coach’s hand reached up, tousling the cropped waves and curls of Andy’s hair, brushing his wide palm against the soft stubble of his cheek that had grown in over the long day. His head tilted, Andy looked up at Coach Sheridan towering over him, wrapped in the autumnal scent of his ginger and nutmeg cologne, relishing the soft warmth of the coach’s breath against his face. “I’m closing in on fifty fast, and I thought I was past being surprised by much of anything.” The coach’s hand rested warm and heavy against the side of Andy’s neck. Andy swallowed a nervous lump that made the coach smile. His thumb gently traced the curve of Andy’s jaw. “I thought I knew who I was… what I wanted, but then….” The coach leaned in, his mouth whisper-close to Andy’s ear. “But then you fearlessly walked in, handling these boys more than twice your size… never flinching at injuries that made most of us dizzy to think about, let alone have to deal with.” The coach’s other hand wound into the soft locks of Andy’s hair, gently tugging, pulling his head back and bringing him in closer. Andy sighed and swallowed again, at the first touch of the coach’s soft lips barely grazing the outer shell of his ear. “And I would catch you looking at me, those blue eyes of yours; I could feel them burning my skin whenever you thought I wasn’t paying attention.” His voice was nearly a growl against Andy’s ear, sending violent

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 11 shivers and white-hot heat coursing through his veins, settling low in his belly, and even lower still. “You wanted me, I could feel it, Doc, and I fought it, I did, until you turned in your resignation. Until….” His fingers tightened their grip on Andy’s head, his own eyes lifting to look into Andy’s, to search for something—for what, Andy had no clue. The coach’s eyes glowed with an inner light as they moved across Andy’s features. “How…,” the coach whispered. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he repeated, his words tinged with anguish, his vulnerability reflected in the worried crease of his brow and the veil of emotion that now haunted his blue-green gaze. The moment hung frozen as Andy stepped into the coach, lifting his hands, running them gingerly up the length of the coach’s arms, following the contours of solid muscle over smooth skin, feeling the dampness that still clung to them as he brought them to rest on the coach’s broad shoulders. He felt the coach stiffen briefly before relaxing, and Andy’s eyes were drawn to the strong column of the coach’s throat, watching as he swallowed. The coach licked his lips as his eyes locked on Andy’s, and Andy found his voice to finally speak. “What do you want?” Coach Sheridan gave a low, self-deprecating chuckle as his hand instinctively tightened in Andy’s hair. “I want to take you home and get you naked and have my fill of you.” His words growled over Andy’s lips before finally… finally… they met. It wasn’t gentle: no tender, explorative first kiss, but Andy wasn’t surprised, let alone disappointed. That first

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 12 meeting of lips was rough, explosive, and all-consuming, and Andy opened readily to the coach’s greedy assault. It was all he had dreamed of and more as he felt the rough beard stubble of the coach’s face, felt the power contained in the wide shoulders as he clung desperately to the coach, aching for more, more taste, their tongues dueling in quick time. Andy’s fingers dug into the rock-hard muscle of the coach’s shoulders, and he swallowed the fierce growl of approval that met that action. The coach’s mouth moved along Andy’s jaw, biting and nipping, his tongue soothing the harshness as Andy struggled to breathe. “Take me home,” Andy begged. Coach Sheridan did growl then, marking Andy’s throat before stepping away, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Lips tingling, throat stinging, Andy shivered from the cold air. Now that he had been scorched from the heat of the coach’s embrace, the room now seemed frigid without the warmth of the coach’s skin beneath his hands, without the coach’s arms wrapped tightly around him, without the pounding rhythm of the coach’s heartbeat against his own. Andy smiled, running his own shaky hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing it in reflex, trying to calm himself down, trying to keep just one last thread of control as his eyes locked on the massive erection the coach’s towel did nothing to conceal. “Don’t look at me like that,” Coach Sheridan threatened wickedly. “Or I’ll have you over my desk, here and now.”

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 13 Andy couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his hands up in supplication. On the verge of begging for him to do just that, Andy was thankful for this little respite—time to gather his thoughts and get over the gobsmacked realization that this was not a dream. The coach dressed quickly, and they were in his car, leaving Andy’s to chance for all he cared, pulling out of the empty, cavernous garage faster than Andy would have thought possible. Andy was more than ready to give directions to his humble home in the Old City downtown area, but he kept silent as the coach pulled his sleek, dark SUV onto the interstate heading away from downtown. Holding back a gulp, he tried not to think too far ahead, discreetly wiping his sweating palms on his thighs as they made it to the coach’s house in silence and record time. Andy reached for the door handle but stopped as the coach’s hand squeezed his knee. The coach gave him that dead-sexy crooked smile Andy had come to relish when Andy finally looked up at him for the first time since they had left the football stadium. Jumping out of the car quickly, Coach Sheridan came around and opened Andy’s door and, much to his chagrin, helped him down from the tall vehicle. Their hands clasped, Andy could feel the dampness in the coach’s own firm grip, and that, as much as any reassuring words he could have spoken, calmed Andy. The coach led Andy up the meticulously landscaped walkway, their path clearly marked by tiny lights along the edge, to the door at the side of the house.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 14 So now here he was, about to enter this man’s home… this man who had filled his teeming imagination and held his fascination for months. He fought down the urge to gulp as he stumbled up the path. “Hey,” the coach urged softly, pulling Andy close to his side. “You okay? Second thoughts?” He brushed a wayward lock of hair gently from Andy’s forehead. Andy quickly shook his head. “No, no second thoughts, just… nervous.” He tried to give a little laugh. “Me too,” Coach Sheridan quietly admitted before pressing his lips to Andy’s forehead as he managed to unlock the door. They entered a small anteroom that led to a large kitchen that opened into an informal living room. “Would you like a drink?” the coach asked over his shoulder as he moved into the room to turn on a few lights. Andy shrugged out of his suit jacket, placing it on the back of a wrought-iron barstool at the long bar island that ran the length of the kitchen. “Sure, maybe a beer, if you have one?” The coach met Andy’s gave with that wicked lift of his eyebrow that always drove Andy a little mad. “An SEC football coach without beer in his refrigerator? I could be brought up on NCAA charges of violation on an infraction like that,” he teased as he pulled two bottles out of the doublewide refrigerator. He popped the tops on them with the opener mounted over the sink and slid one over to Andy. “Though they are imports, so I might be charged still yet.” He winked as he took a long, slow pull from the icy bottle.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 15 Andy refrained from mentioning the brand was his personal favorite as he took a refreshing drink of the cold beer. The coach took his hand again and led him through the massive house, taking his time, showing Andy the pool, the weight room, the bonus room and all three bathrooms before stopping at the foot of the stairs that led to the second story. “Upstairs are the bedrooms, three of them, And a bathroom….” His words faded as he held his gaze locked on the upstairs balcony. Andy couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him right then—his nervousness was palpable. Tightening the grip he held on the coach’s hand, he slid closer, pressing his lips to the skin bared at the edge of the coach’s short-sleeved shirt. “I’d like to see your room,” he offered quietly, his mouth moving against the coach’s sensitized skin. He felt the gooseflesh rise beneath his lips as a shiver ran through the coach’s frame. Coach Sheridan pulled him up, meeting his mouth for a quick, super-heated kiss that left Andy reeling before he was pulled behind the coach up the stairs. The time for words had passed—the culmination of dreams and confessions materialized into fervent neediness. Andy barely registered the masculinity of the master bedroom, vaguely aware that it reflected the man quickly undressing in front of him. He peeled his own clothes off in record time, and they soon stood naked in front of each other, taking in every detail of the other’s body. Andy’s cock stood proud from the trim thatch of caramel-colored hair between his legs, where the coach’s

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 16 grew long and hard and thick from the mass of the same black curls that peppered his chest and narrowed into that perfect line below his navel. “Fucking gorgeous,” Coach Sheridan breathed, licking his lips as his eyes devoured the sight of Andy’s trim, athletic body. Andy could feel the heat rise up his throat, scorching his face at the compliment as the coach stepped forward, reaching with his hand, fingers slightly trembling as he placed his palm in the center of Andy’s chest. He was glad the coach could feel the pounding of his heart, hoping it eased some of the nervousness he could feel emanating from the coach in waves. The coach’s fingers tensed before he cleared his throat to speak. “I’m not sure exactly… how to go about this….” Andy smiled at the admission. “I think it’s pretty much the same as….” What should he say? Regular sex? Normal sex? This was regular, normal sex for Andy, but he understood what the coach meant. First times were hard no matter what. “You think?” the coach asked with a doubtful lift of his brow. Andy shrugged noncommittally. “I wouldn’t know about the… other,” he offered quietly. Coach Sheridan nodded in understanding, and as if he had now consulted his playbook, he finally lowered his head to Andy’s, seeking his mouth with tenderness. Gone was the near-terrifying intensity of their earlier kiss in the locker room. This kiss was a beginning, an exploration of what could be.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 17 The coach’s lips were pillow soft, his tongue gently probing, teasing the outer corners of Andy’s mouth before slipping slowly inside. Andy relished the taste of him this time, the tang of beer mingling with the elemental flavor that was uniquely the other man’s. As Andy reveled in the kiss, he let his hands roam, searching out and tracing the lines of defined muscle across the coach’s chest, letting his palms rasp against the light covering of coarse hair, tweaking the hard peaks of each nipple before following the trailing line of hair that led to the coach’s waiting cock. He inhaled sharply against Andy’s mouth when Andy’s wandering hand finally wrapped around his throbbing length. As Andy slowly stroked from base to tip with confident pressure, Coach Sheridan’s head fell back on his shoulders, his back arching and forcing his cock to rock in Andy’s grip. Struck by the sight of the coach’s pleasure, Andy licked at the exposed throat, peppering kisses along his chest and abdomen as he lowered himself to his knees on the floor at the coach’s feet. Gripping each hip, Andy pressed kisses low on the coach’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he sucked in a breath. Andy nuzzled his face in the thick, dark curls at base of the coach’s cock, the enticing musky scent of mingling with the autumnal fragrance the coach wore. coach’s hands fluttered against Andy’s shoulders as cheek caressed the long length.

the sex The his

He didn’t want to give the coach any kind of idle time, knowing how much easier this first time together would be if he didn’t have to think, if he could just get lost in the

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 18 sensations. Forcing down the twinge of guilt at manipulating the situation, Andy boldly wrapped his hand around the thick cock on offer in front of him, sliding the foreskin back at the same time he leaned in to lick the glistening drop of moisture that beaded at the tip. As Coach Sheridan hissed through clenched teeth, Andy wrapped his mouth around the swollen head, groaning in satisfaction at the taste before slowly taking more of the length deep into his mouth. “Fucking hell, Doc.” The coach moaned hoarsely. “Oh… you little liar,” he breathed, letting his hands mold around Andy’s skull and holding him in place as he thrust a little deeper into the hot, wet cavern of Andy’s hungry mouth. Andy allowed him the liberty, concentrating on relaxing his throat, steadying his breathing to take Coach Sheridan as deeply as he could before he pulled back. He tilted his head so that he could catch the coach’s eye as he watched with avid interest at sight of his cock, slick and wet, sliding effortlessly out of Andy’s mouth. “Liar?” Andy asked flirtatiously as his tongue teased the sensitive slit at the tip of the coach’s cock, his hand squeezing up the shaft, milking another drop of moisture from the hard length. The coach’s hands tightened in Andy’s hair as he watched him lick at the drop hungrily. “Fucking little liar,” he growled. “This isn’t the same as anything I’ve ever done.” “It’s not?” Andy continued innocently, tracing the flared head before dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin along the underneath. “Doc,” his voice held a warning, “this could get ugly, real fast.”

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 19 Andy looked back up, finding the sea-green gaze that had always been so captivating now darkened ominously, like the turbulent seas just before the storm. He had forgotten, for a moment, just what this all meant to a man like the coach, realizing for the first time his attraction for another man. As jubilant as Andy had been to see that confession written on the bathroom mirror, the coach must have been just as equally frightened. This moment was a milestone in the coach’s life, and Andy was teasing and playing…. Andy tightened his grip and put his mouth back on the coach, meeting each firm upstroke of his hand with a sucking downstroke of his mouth until finally the coach was fucking his throat. His free hand played with the heavy sac that hung behind, feeling it grow tighter and fuller. Finally, Andy pulled away, gasping for air as Coach Sheridan tried to hold him in place with a frustrated groan. Andy quickly stood, whispering against the coach’s lips, “I want you to come inside me.” Coach Sheridan’s stormy eyes grew wide, and then he was suddenly lifting Andy, nearly carrying him to the bed, where they fell in a tangled heap of groping hands and hungry mouths. The coach’s hands were all over Andy, who writhed in pleasure from each firm caress and each rugged touch, until finally, the coach leaned to the side, the sound of a drawer in the bedside table sliding open breaking into Andy’s haze of lust. The coach was quickly sheathing his erection with a condom as Andy reached for the bottle of lube that lay on the bed between the coach’s knees, where he knelt between Andy’s own.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 20 Their eyes met, and the color grew deeper in Coach Sheridan’s cheeks. The coach shrugged, his hand continuing to slowly stroke the erection in his fist. “It’s been a while. I was… hoping,” he admitted softly. Andy leaned up, quickly kissing him reassuringly as he whispered into his mouth, “I’m glad.” Popping the lid on the bottle he held, Andy squeezed some onto the fingers of his left hand before handing it to the coach. As he watched with an intense, burning gaze, Andy reached between his legs, sliding his middle finger deftly beneath his balls and into the tight hole hidden there. His eyes drifted to the hefty cock that jutted impatiently from between the coach’s thighs, and he slid another finger in, scissoring them both in preparation. Coach Sheridan just stared at what he was doing, and Andy was now the one blushing deeply. “It’s been a while for me too,” he offered almost sheepishly. The coach swallowed hard. “I’m glad,” he echoed, now pumping his cock with renewed interest as he watched Andy with barely concealed astonishment. “That’s the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen.” Andy couldn’t help but smile, pulling his fingers free and then grabbing the coach’s waiting cock, slicking the residual wetness down his length, guiding him between his legs. “You don’t have to be gentle,” he quietly confessed. The coach leaned in to kiss him lightly before letting his forehead rest against Andy’s. “Good, because I don’t think I can be.”

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 21 And with that, he was entering Andy, slowly but insistently, until he was buried completely in the tight, hot depths of Andy’s ass. “God…,” he breathed, lifting himself up on his fists, angling and arching his back so that he went even deeper. “Fuck, Doc… it’s good, it’s so good.” Andy’s hands caressed and clutched at the coach’s tight buttocks as he began to move inside of him. Lifting his knees, Andy met each pounding thrust the coach battered him with. Stroke after stroke, the intensity built, each climbing, reaching for the end. Andy stroked his own cock in time with Coach Sheridan’s hungry thrusts, the pleasure of being filled by the coach almost enough on its own, but he knew the coach was close, could feel that tension building in every muscle, and he wanted to be with him in that moment… coming together this first time. Andy felt the coach’s eyes on him as he worked to bring himself off at the same time. With a low moan from deep in his chest, the coach thrust forcefully twice more as he wrapped his own hand tightly around Andy’s, working his cock together as the coach came. “Say my name,” he ordered roughly, his eyes tightly shut, his fist pumping madly as Andy felt the deep pulses of his come inside of him with the heat that flooded the condom. At the order, Andy stiffened, arching into the coach’s grasp and grinding his ass deeper onto the still hardened cock as he came, the warm, thick jets spilling over their hands. “Erik,” he breathed the coach’s name for the first time ever outside of his own dark fantasies.

Fragile | Monika Krasnorada | 22 The room was silent except for their heavy breathing as the coach lay where he had collapsed across Andy. He kissed Erik’s shoulder as the coach nuzzled his throat, and Andy traced designs on the damp skin of his back. “You know,” he spoke softly against the coach’s skin. “You never did say what I asked you, earlier.” The coach managed a small chuckle, the sensation tickling Andy’s neck. “Hmm, I don’t guess I did,” he teased. Andy waited a moment before pushing gently on his shoulder. “Well?” he demanded. With another low laugh, the coach rose up on his elbows and looked down into Andy’s face before his stillstormy gaze turned serious. “I think I could love you, Andrew,” he confessed to the words he had written on that mirror earlier. Andy smiled warmly up at him before leaning in to kiss him tenderly. “That’s good, because I know I love you… Erik.”

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About the Author

MONIKA KRASNORADA grew up in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains in rural east Tennessee. Forever the perennial black sheep, she never fell into step with the country life. Her teenage obsession with Duran Duran and the dream of being Andy Warhol’s “latest discovery” filled many notebooks with stories of teenage angst. She worked as a labor and delivery nurse for nearly ten years before becoming a stay-at-home mother of two, but those notebooks of her youth were never forgotten. An avid reader, she always felt she had a story to tell, and thanks to the encouragement of some very special friends, she now has the opportunity to tell it. Visit Monika at http://www.mkrasnorada.blogspot.com. Contact her at [email protected].

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Fragile ©Copyright Monika Krasnorada, 2011 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Catt Ford This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June 2011 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-026-4