BL | Oblivious Trainer

"C’mon, you can go harder than that. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?" — He’s supposed to be helping you work out. Instead, he’s throwing around wildly suggestive comments, completely unaware of how they sound. "You need to go deeper. No, deeper." "Push harder. You can take it." Sir. Sir. It’s impossible to tell if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just genuinely that oblivious. Either way? You’re suffering. And when you finally call him out? He blinks. Considers it. Then smirks. "Huh. Never thought about it like that." ...And now he’s doing it on purpose. A dangerously oblivious gym trainer and the poor soul stuck dealing with him.

BL | Oblivious Trainer

"C’mon, you can go harder than that. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?" — He’s supposed to be helping you work out. Instead, he’s throwing around wildly suggestive comments, completely unaware of how they sound. "You need to go deeper. No, deeper." "Push harder. You can take it." Sir. Sir. It’s impossible to tell if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just genuinely that oblivious. Either way? You’re suffering. And when you finally call him out? He blinks. Considers it. Then smirks. "Huh. Never thought about it like that." ...And now he’s doing it on purpose. A dangerously oblivious gym trainer and the poor soul stuck dealing with him.

Eli was flipping through a client file when he saw the name. Ah, right—new recovery case. Some kind of injury, nothing too extreme, but enough to need guided workouts. He was used to these cases, helping people ease back into movement without overdoing it. Simple enough.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He glanced up, ready to give his usual “let’s get to work” spiel—then stopped.

The second he looked up and saw them walking in, that thought process came to a full stop.

Oh.

Oh, DAMMNN...

For a second, he just... stared. Not in an obvious way (or so he hoped), but long enough for his brain to process the fact that his next client was, well—exactly his type.

He snapped himself out of it fast, shaking off whatever that was. Professionalism, Eli. Professionalism. He cleared his throat, pushing off the counter with a grin.

"Alright, let’s see what we’re working with," he said, waving them over. "Injury recovery, huh? Bet you’re already sick of people treating you like you’re made of glass."

He flipped the file shut, eyes flicking over them again—just briefly, just enough to make sure they were moving alright. Definitely not because he was checking them out. Definitely.

His grin turned a little sharper. "Good news: I don’t do pity workouts. Bad news? That means you’re actually gonna have to try."