Day 14

Day 14 - Original - Temperature Play

An franchise quarterback for a big-market NFL team was the closest American equivalent to an anointed god-king. By that standard, Jason Kelly was more of a contested boy-prince, elevated to the throne too soon.

Evie was always a little stunned with how they talked about grown men like they were children. Jason was twenty-four. He'd been old enough to drink for three years now and had been actually drinking for far longer. He owned a house, was set to be married, and probably had at least one illegitimate child he was paying support for. But because he'd only been a professional at his job for two years now, everybody talked about him in terms of 'this kid' and 'young player'. He had infinite excuses for every kind of off-the-field behavior from speeding to domestic abuse. But the second he threw a bad pick, he held onto the ball for too long and took a bad sack, or the second he showed immaturity in the locker room and burned a bridge with one of his teammates, the media expected sage wisdom out of him. Not that they wouldn't make infinite excuses for him. He was a pretty, white, blonde guy who played for a team in LA, he was perfectly set up to get infinite defense for his mistakes from a lot of people. But his attitude had been enough of a problem to keep him from going first overall, and early on had been enough of a problem to make some of his fans raise an eyebrow.

"One more," Evie said coldly, watching Jason's legs shake as he raised his three-hundred pound bar up again. He flicked a desperate, prey-animal look at her before straining back into his squat and trying to drive up.

He had shown up at the combine with bad weight. At six-five and with a big frame, he was expected to be over two hundred and thirty pounds, but that was a strong two-thirty. For a corn-fed Montana boy who had looked like a slab of beef his first year of college, he'd coasted for a year or two on being young, dumb, and full of talent. Then he'd started partying with his teammates like any star college player does if they weren't born with the kind of derangement that makes you need to be the best at everything. He'd gained thirty pounds of bad weight between his sophomore year and the combine after his junior year, showed a bad attitude during the pre-draft process, and fallen all the way to… well, third overall pick. He was still very talented, white, and a Quarterback.

The strange thing was that - even if college athletics was a breeding ground for drinking problems, apathetic misogyny, and date rape - it was also controlled enough to usually keep young men from self-destructing entirely. They told you when to eat and what to eat, they had regularly-scheduled practices, short off-seasons surrounded by guidance counselors and never too far from your coach's eyes, and they had far stricter codes of conduct than an NFL team. The kind where you missed games for an offense instead of just being fined. A lot of players left that environment, got paid 'fuck you' money, and suddenly had to face all their worst habits and aspects on their own. Off-seasons got longer and darker, abuses got easier, and isolation grew. Plenty of players ate themselves from the inside. Some had the sturdiness to ask for help; be it counseling or rehab or just companionship and guidance. The cruelty was that they were expected to but not instructed to. It was assumed that you would have a personal chef and an off-season program to keep in shape and a sports psychologist. You were supposed to invest in yourself, the brand that was your personhood. But nobody did it for you. Often, you had to fail. You had to have a rookie season like Jason had. The first contract was life-changing money, but the second contract was the goal. He understood that, at least.

"One more," Evie repeated, looking at him with an expression like she was confused that he was even asking if he could stop. Jason's face grew pathetic as he dropped back down.

After that first season somebody had gotten through to him, and he'd hired Evie. Considering that she was a dietician, personal trainer, and at least something of a sports psychologist, she had probably seemed like the best option to make his team happy on the cheap. But to his credit, Jason had actually attacked their off-season program with decent fervor. She'd gone easier on him that year than she was going this year, feeling out what it was he responded to. But she'd recognized early on in that program that what he needed was some semblance of a controlling figure. He'd gone from a disciplinarian head coach in college to a more laid back, 'player's coach' in the pros. And he was one of those athletes that needed a firm hand.

She'd always thought there was something inherently submissive about wanting to be a professional athlete. Of course there was an appeal to making millions of dollars playing a children's game, going home and fucking a supermodel, then doing late-night interviews where they lobbed you softball questions while the camera focused lovingly on your face. But you couldn't make it in any league off of that appeal alone. Getting through even a high school training camp required either some deep mental sickness or a true love of the game itself. And from there it only got harder. You needed to be a hard person who could be sculpted. Responding to a firm hand like the voice of god itself spoke through them. On your knees and receptive for whatever higher power would see you through to Valhalla, be it the paternal figure of your coach or the perverse church-bred masochism that allowed you to be lashed and smile.

"One. More." She enunciated firmly as Jason opened his mouth to protest. "You do know what 'to failure' means, don't you?"

Jason's second season had been leaps and bounds better than his rookie year. That was, of course, as much down to the surrounding cast being better as it was on his own improvement. Sean Lincoln, the veteran receiver they'd brought in to help him, had really become a great mentor to the him, as he had to Carnell Williams, the rookie who had played at Jason's rival school but who had quickly become a favorite target. But none of that wouldn't have mattered without a change in mindset on Jason's part. He'd shown up for camp in far better shape than his rookie year, more driven, better mentally prepared. She'd clearly done a good enough job to earn her own second contract. Evie had also gotten plenty of offers from other teams as well was Jason's teammates, but she had decided she specialized in Quarterbacks. More than that, she specialized in one Quarterback. If Jason's coach wouldn't be the firm hand he needed, she could take the role.

He was about halfway up his squat when Jason's face went blank and his eyes wide. Evie watched him shoot out from under the bar and leave it to clatter loudly to the bottom of the machine while he lurched desperately for the nearby trashcan and was violently ill. As Jason lost his breakfast, Evie made her way over to him and rubbed his back sardonically.

"There there, baby," She teased. "Get all that poison out."

"Fuck. You." Jason gasped between heaves.

"I know, I know," She sweetened her voice tauntingly. "It's not your fault that you love beer. It's not your fault that your college buddies called over the summer and wanted to party. How are you supposed to say no to Whatshisname? That guy was a Heisman runner-up, and now he sells insurance."

"Leave Jake out of this," Jason spat, though she could hear him trying not to smile. "He wasn't even there."

"I told you last off-season, you could keep drinking and eating fast food with your friends all of January to April and it wouldn't be a problem. It just meant that May is going to be hell for you each year." Evie sighed dramatically. "It's either we have hell week every year after OTAs or you show up to mandatory minicamp looking like a fat sack of shit."

"Oh blow me," Jason heaved once more before straightening up. "I put on fifteen pounds. I'm not college fat any more."

Evie glanced him up and down, his sweat-soaked grey sleeveless hoodie and sweatpants hanging gaunt around his form. He definitely wasn't college fat any more, hadn't been since about midway through last season. But Jason was never going to have the body of a greek god. Most NFL players actually couldn't. You needed to eat and rest a lot to recover from the games, and you almost never had time for hard cuts during a season, so you wound up with a sort of pudgy dad bod by season's end. Jason, right now, was getting close to the trimmest he would be for the rest of the year. Right at that 235 mark with a lot of showy muscle that would give way to the functional bulk of the long campaign. Still, when he put his hands on his hips and arched his back, trying to keep his lungs as open as possible to suck in air, there was just a hint of a belly.

"You're not Ben Roethlisberger, I'll give you that." Evie watched him start to reach for a water bottle and blocked his arm. "Cold tub time."

"Can't I get a drink first?" Jason pointed to the deep triangle of sweat that went from the shoulders of his hoodie down to the crotch.

"You have a weigh-in today. It'll make your life a whole lot easier if you're dehydrated for it." Evie's voice hardened. She'd pretty easily conditioned him to her tones of voice by now. When she deepened it like she was doing currently, her words were coming purely from the position of his coach. "If you come in over the goal weight, we're going just as hard tomorrow."

Jason actually shuddered at the idea, then reached up and pushed back his blonde, too-photogenic-for-his-own-good cowlick before wiping his hand on his pant leg. They moved together from the private gym of his house into the attached sauna room. He hadn't followed the advice vets gave, to buy a secluded little place that you'd actually want to leave each day to go to the team facility, but that price had already been paid. It was a very nice mini-mansion up in the hills, and if he got a second contract she couldn't guess what he'd do with the literal hundreds of millions. Even after he'd started being more responsible, he'd still bought a too-nice car. At the very least, it meant they could do their training at his place instead of in a shared gym.

The room attached to the sauna had originally been a sort of transitional white-walled shower room with a locker in it. Since he hadn't been using it for anything, and it had been close, they'd thrown down a cold tub in the middle, right next to the drain. It was waiting for them right now, already prepared with ice water filling it to the rim. The thermometer suggested not far above freezing. Evie had tried a dip in one exactly one time, out of sheer curiosity, and convinced herself that somebody was insane if they regularly used them. But she was also aware, scientifically, of the actual benefits.

When he started to strip, Jason shuffled over underneath one of the two shower heads projecting out of the wall. He pulled his sweatshirt up over his broad shoulders. The whole "All-American farm boy" had always been a fabrication, he'd lived in a bunch of places growing up and had really just finished High School in Billings. There were tattoos on his chest and shoulders, though he'd only just been talked out of getting a sleeve. It wasn't that you couldn't have tattoos in his position, some did, but they were the exception. They had already settled into sort of selling him as the 'bad boy' QB be, which funny enough existed in the exact same space as the All-American. She found it funny how he got to be both. He shaved his chest, like they all did right now, and got his back shaved for him. His skin was splotches of pink and yellowish white intermixed and intermingled. The pecs visible beneath his chest but under just enough of a layer of fat. His belly was the slimmest she had ever seen it, but there was still a belly.

He was shriveled from working when the pants came off, and immediately slipping into a cold shower didn't help with that. Evie found it a little humorous that all of that care and attention that went into making his torso hairless as a baby's hadn't really reached below his hips. His muscular thighs were covered with a scraggly bunch of hair that thickened so much at his calves that it almost looked like he had socks on. While his groin was maintained but not cleared. A well-trimmed couple of patches in a way he had probably thought looked cool in high school. If it had been a more… business-facing area for him, Evie and his stylist would have forced him to shave it.

Knowing it wasn't going to get any better for him, Jason slunk into the cold tub as quickly as possible. At this point, he was used to it enough that he didn't start shivering and cursing, but she heard him let out a distinct, pained exhale. Evie pulled up a seat behind him and poured some balm into her hand. It wasn't Icy-Hot, only because Icy-Hot was a specific brand and also underpowered. In every meaningful way, the balm may as well have been. It was a menthol-based spread with just enough CBD in it to be pretty effective. The NFL wasn't stupid about CBD the way it had been ten years ago. Jason needed to be damn grateful for that, because this was about the only pain reliever he seemed to tolerate.

"How are things with Janet?" Evie asked as she started to massage one of his shoulders. There were two distinct surgery scars in separate places. One wilted and old, from high school, and one still a little pink and fresh, from a cleanup procedure he'd had last year.

"Fine," Jason answered.

"Does she still 'want to jump your bones like all the time'?" Evie asked, dropping her voice to mock him a little.

"No uh," Jason swallowed heavily. "We're not really doing that right now."

"Why?" Evie frowned. "Did you fuck up?"

"No, for once," Jason laughed at himself. "She's… you know how it is sometimes."

"I don't know how it is sometimes, Jason." Evie dug her fingers in a little harder.

"She's kinda gone… baby crazy." Jason sighed. "That's a normal girl thing, right?"

"Jason, I have never once looked at my life and thought that it would be improved by being much fatter and more hormonal." Evie lifted her hands and leaned her head down next to his. "Or by having a second child to look after, this one with incontinence issues."

"You never told me you had a kid." Jason was either trying to tease her back or genuinely didn't get it.

"Of course, he's terribly overgrown and has an awful attitude." Evie took another dollop of balm into her hand. "But his career pays great."

"Alright, whatever." Jason sounded like he hadn't been joking, but got it now.

"So she's gone 'baby crazy'," Evie said a little testily. "And you're not looking for a kid right now."

"I'd never be around. That seems unfair." Jason shrugged slightly.

"That's surprisingly thoughtful of you." Evie patted him. "Now say something stupid to balance it out."

"Okay," Jason exhaled slowly. "I don't think she and I are very compatible."

"What?" Evie stopped. "Not compatible?"

"You said to say something stupid." Jason muttered. "Would you prefer I had made something up?"

"And when did you start thinking this?" Evie asked. "Around the time she went 'baby crazy'?"

"Before then," Jason admitted. "Baby crazy helped me make up my mind, though."

"Frankly, this is between you and Lois." Evie rolled her eyes.

"Feels a little shitty letting my publicist decide my relationships." Jason sulked.

"You want to fuck actresses, that's how it's going to be." Evie moved over to the other shoulder, giving it about half of the attention.

When she was done, she got Jason up out of the tub and gestured without speaking to the sauna. He rose without a word, splashing her slightly with icy water. Where Jason looked, occasionally, like he'd been vacuum-sealed into size-XL sweatpants and sweatshirts, Evie usually looked like compression outfits were hanging off of her. By weight alone, he was usually either literally two of her, or almost literally two of her. At times he stood over her like he did now and reminded her of that. But then he moved to the sauna and shut himself inside.

Evie took a minute to make some notes on her phone, one of them a reminder to call Lois because she was pretty sure that Jason would either forget to bring it up or chicken out. When she was done with that, she shrugged out of her sports bra and shorts and followed Jason into the sauna.

It wasn't as hot as it needed to be, so Evie turned it up. Jason had been lounging in a very warm but not quite steamy room and hoping that was good enough. At the feeling of the heat starting to increase, he lifted his forearm from his eyes just enough to groan at her. He liked the sight of her, of course, and the heat was starting to un-shrivel him, but he set his arm back over his eyes. His back was arched slightly over the wooden bench with his arm up dramatically and his leg spread, the other hand on one of his thighs. He looked like he was posing for a life drawing class, though she knew by now that this was just how he tried to get comfortable. Football was sort of an accelerated decay chamber for some joints, and his back was already older than the rest of him.

"You've got a long time before you can sleep," She tried to sound dispassionate. "And I'm not going to be in here to lifeguard you the whole time."

"Right, so just check back in an hour." Jason mumbled.

"But we have to go over the things you're going to say at your next press conference." Evie joked, making herself sound far more excited than anybody should be at the prospect. "What are you going to say if somebody asks about your sophmore DUI instead of zone defenses? There's hours of things we could go over."

"Aw suck my dick," Jason muttered.

"Your dick?" Evie sharpened her voice.

She was pleased that he flinched just slightly when she said it. He peeked just slightly from under his arm as she scooted closer, placing a hand gently on his soft penis.

"This is your dick now?" She asked. "During hell week?"

"Sorry coach," He answered instinctually.

"Not your coach." Evie instructed.

"Sorry, ma'am." He corrected.

Evie wrapped her hand around his shaft and squeezed life into it slowly. It started springing to life almost immediately. Between that and the way his balls immediately rose up into the loose skin of his sack, she could guess that he hadn't been lying about him and Janet. That or she'd just done a good enough job conditioning him at this point. Maybe a little of both. He let out a slow, testing groan. Obviously he remembered that she wanted to hear him when they were doing these kinds of things, but he clearly wasn't certain yet what she intended to do. Sometimes, Evie would decide on the spot if she wanted to ruin him or leave him high and dry. This wasn't one of those times, she'd decided what she was going to do before he'd even given her a reason to.

"That's better, because if it was your dick, I'd have to stop touching it, wouldn't I?" Evie asked sweetly. "I can let go of it if you want, leave you to take care of it."

"No, please." Jason offered weakly.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll keep playing with my dick." Evie stroked him slowly, coaxingly. Feeling him swell and heat up under her touch.

In very, very quick order, he was impressively hard. She wondered if he'd even jerked off in the past couple weeks. His large, sensitive balls kept jumping and squeezing every time she pulled the skin back fully from his head. Jason let out a long, breathy groan that reverberated around the small room.

"Jeez, you're so hard it looks like it hurts." Evie gave a voice of faux concern. "Is this another injury for me to take care of?"

"Please," Jason mumbled.

"Louder," Evie instructed, knowing she was going to make him eat his words and savoring knowing what was coming next when he didn't.

"Please, mommy," Jason repeated more loudly.

"Fine," Evie shifted her weight, making it seem like she was getting ready to lean down and suck his dick. "No mommy today. Just ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am." Jason swallowed.

"Better," Evie grinned.

She reached over and grabbed the bottle of balm as subtly as she could, relying on his arm over his eyes to conceal her. Then she quietly opened it and squeezed some into her free hand. As she started to slather it onto Jason's shaft, he let out a moan and bucked his hips softly into it, seeming to think it was lube.

"There we go, cover the injury nice and evenly." Evie said, doing her best to cover the whole of his shaft. He definitely noticed the fact that she was smearing something on him more than stroking him.

"What?" Jason uncovered his eyes and looked down. He saw the bottle of balm pinched between Evie's thighs and put two and two together.

A second or two later, he let out a gasp and started squirming. His cock kept trying to jump out of Evie's hands. Her grin deepened as she started to pump him, making sure to get her slick palm at the space beneath his foreskin. Each few seconds, he let out a new and sharper gasp or groan. The menthol would kick in first, of course, an icy-cold feeling that bordered on burning. But with it would then come heat and tingling, the pleasurable numbness and lightness from the CBD, but it wouldn't feel 'normal' again for a long while. In an area that sensitive, it was going to have the exact effect she intended.

"Hold still," Evie instructed firmly. "If you keep squirming, you'll make it worse."

Jason was absolutely trying to, but his hips and thighs kept squirming and pumping The skin of his lower stomach and crotch was turning brighter red than the rest of him. And the head of his cock was turning much redder still. A desperate, needy bead of pre-cum leaked from his head as it throbbed under her touch. His cock kept swelling and jumping. His moaning and groaning kept turning into near-squeals and stifled gasps.

"There we go, isn't that better?" Evie got he free hand covered in more balm and started to massage his balls with it.

That was clearly too much. Jason yelped and bucked like he was trying to pull away, but forced himself through sheer will to remain seated on the bench. His torso was shaking like he was moving heavy weight with his core, his cock now leaking more steadily. As the icy sensation started to coat his balls, they pulled up toward him in his sack, which shriveled back up while his cock stayed desperately hard. Evie pumped his shaft furiously as it kept trying to jump out of her hands. Now his legs started to shake along with his stomach. Both his arms were up over his face, clinging to the railing behind the bench desperately.

"Ha… ow… ow… shit… fuck… ow…" Jason groaned out.

"Hold on, I'm really trying my best to work out all these knots." Evie brought her palm up around the head of his shaft, pulled the skin back, and gave a bunch of quick, pumping squeezes right where he was most sensitive.

"C-cumming," He managed to gasp out.

Evie kept the quick pumps up near his head as his cock swelled and then exploded, Jason's cum shooting out of the top of her nearly-closed fist. She slid her hand all the way down his shaft and pumped more at the base as she angled his cock up at his stomach, watching pearly ropes paint his belly one after the other. He groaned and bucked his hips up into her touch, and Evie gently stroked and scratched his balls as he did.

As soon as he was done, Evie pulled her hands away. Immediately, Jason's hands went to his groin, clutching at it like he'd actually been injured. He gave a couple of gasping whimpers. Even after his orgasm had faded, his cock was still hard and still giving the occasional heat and cold-induced throb or jump. He looked at her with a slightly accusatory glare, though one undeniably undercut by the lust-drunkenness of his eyes. His broad chest was still rising and falling rapidly as Evie stood up.

"Well, I'll see you in an hour." Evie stepped to the sauna door. "Try not to fall asleep."

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