Sebastian Stan Short Stories

Sebastian Stan [4]

"Worn Out"

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Present day, fiction

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There was no way I could move. I was flat on my back and couldn't feel most of my body. My heart was still pounding. Both Sebastian and myself were breathing heavy, laying a few feet apart next to each other.

"Wow," Seb whispered to me. I found the energy to chuckle softly.

"I guess I did good," I told him.

"I'd say," he conceded. I stopped staring at the ceiling and faced him. There he was in all of his shirtless glory.

Maybe it was the rush of happy hormones that came after a long stint of heart pounding exertion, but I couldn't help beaming at him. He looked just as happy as I felt.

"Where did you learn how to do that though?" he asked.

"Oh come on. It's not like this was my first time," I reminded him.

"Obviously," he scoffed. "It took me dozens of tries to get any of those moves right."

"Maybe I'm just a natural," I suggested.

"Most people are, especially if they're going at it for hours everyday for months straight. But you just walk in here and put a lot of people to shame," Sebastian said. He took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly. There was just the faintest bead of sweat forming on his temple. "How did you get your leg up like that?"

"I'm just more flexible than you," I pointed out.

"I'm plenty flexible," he argued.

"You couldn't reach me when we-"

"Shut up," he said quickly. "You can be the flexible one."

"I guess that makes you the strong one," I bargained. I had gotten very familiar with his muscles over the past few weeks. And it had been very nice.

"You guess," he repeated sarcastically.

"I was impressed you could hold me up that long," I commented. "Or hold up in general."

"Those are brave words," Seb warned playfully. He had held up perfectly well in the hours we had spent with each other.

"Wanna go again?" I asked cheerfully.

"Haven't had enough?" he questioned. I silently shook my head at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Give me a few minutes."

So we laid there together in the floor of the training gym. Seb shirtless and in a pair of shorts, me in a sports bra and work out tights. Our water bottles, iPods, phones, and all manner of gym paraphernalia were across the room.

"What on God's earth are you two doing?"

"Mack Attack? Is that you?" Sebastian called out. I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself off the ground. I didn't trust my body to sit up like normal. Not after six hours of cardio, boxing, and stunt training, at least. Sure enough, there was Mackie.

"Is he dead?" Anthony asked me.

"Close enough," I answered.

"She killed me," Seb added.

"He was my sparring partner today," I explained.

"No one told me she spent the last two weeks with a retired Marine learning self-defense," he commented.

"That's rough, man. Hilarious mostly, but still a little rough," Mackie laughed. "You want some help up?"

"Please," Seb caved. Anthony bent over and stretched out a hand. After some grunting and a few more insults, Seb was finally on his feet.

"You should probably stretch all that out," Anthony advised.

"Sebastian really isn't very flexible," I told him. "He should stretch in general."

"God, what were you two doing?" Anthony laughed. "Because I'm not sure I want to know."

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Author's Note:

Innuendos are fun.