Some days, he couldn’t help but miss the underground stuff he used to do to make money on the side. Trevor wasn’t happy that the thought had even occurred to him, but it was true.

Some days, doing odd jobs felt worse than beating people up in one of those black market arenas he used to fight in.

Trevor wasn’t physically exhausted from the gig he had today—a construction job across town—but mentally was another matter. It wasn’t easy to work for someone that obviously didn’t care about worker health and safety.

He’d been a temp hire, there to cover for someone that couldn’t come in. His only role was to haul materials. He’d tried to advocate for the others, but there was only so much he could do.

Trevor was an esper and a martial artist, one that was mindful of his responsibilities as someone with power. He couldn’t use them wantonly—neither his superhuman abilities nor his martial arts—because the results could be lethal.

He had spent years painstakingly cultivating a mindset and rigorous discipline so that he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt the people around him, but despite that, he had to admit that it had been awfully tempting to sock the site lead right in the face.

The verbal abuse was nothing to him. He paid no heed to petty insults. The others weren’t so thick-skinned and he could see the toll it was taking on them.

It would have been a simple matter for Trevor to show off—to intimidate the foreman into being a little less of an awful garbage person—but that would have meant exposing his powers to a bunch of strangers. And if there was one thing he had learned in his 40 years, it was that nothing good could come from that kind of attention—not planetside.

As much as he hated to keep his head down and let the abuse continue, these people weren’t his family. He probably would never see them again. And he couldn’t justify risking himself and his family just for a bunch of strangers.

Trevor adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. It might have been tough work, but it had paid well enough. With the cash he got, he could keep the dojo afloat for another week. Maybe two if they stretched things out.

The place was popular enough, but their students paid a pittance. He couldn’t stomach the idea of charging them more because he knew most wouldn’t be able to afford the hike. What he did charge was already pretty much at the limit for a lot of the students to start with.

They tried to subsist on donations from the community, but those were hardly a reliable stream of income. And with the economy the way that it was, those had only been diminishing with time.

The government was another option, but the agency he’d applied to for a grant had been giving him the run-around for about two months now. Not that he was surprised.

Even if the program was ostensibly to help provide a safe and stable environment for underprivileged youth in the city, Trevor was pretty sure that most of the money in the pot was ending up in the pockets of various unsavory business owners and city councillors.

His train of thought was interrupted when he rounded the corner and noticed a young man standing on the sidewalk outside the dojo. The boy was looking at the locked door and pacing back and forth under the only working streetlamp between Trevor’s corner of the street and the next.

Trevor frowned. The young man didn’t seem to notice him until he walked up and cleared his throat.

“P-please don’t scare me like that,” said the boy.

Trevor squinted. Maybe it was cynical, but the benefit of the doubt was a dangerous thing in the slums. “The dojo is closed, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. But since you’ve come all this way, is there anything I can help you with?”

“I-I knew that…” said the boy as he stole a glance at the doors again. “I-I’m Peter and I-I was wondering if…if you could give me p-private self-defense lessons.”

Trevor hesitated. He’d given private lessons before, but it had rarely been a good experience. Most of the time it was a rich so-and-so that didn’t really want to do the hard work and just wanted to do the “cool martial arts stuff.”

“I’ve got a lot on my plate these days. I don’t think I’ll have the time to dedicate to giving you the most thorough education I can. And that wouldn’t be fair to you,” said Trevor, finally, after a minute or so of silence.

“I-It’s alright,” said Peter. He was fidgeting where he stood, clearly nervous about the whole thing. “I just want to learn. A-and I can pay for the inconvenience i-if I have to. I-I recently came into a lot of money.”

The moment finances were brought into the equation, Trevor had to stop and think. As much as he was a principled man, he was a pragmatic one too. “I… can only promise I’ll think about it.”

“A-a thousand clips!” Peter blurted out.

Damn. The kid was making it hard for Trevor to turn the offer down. “Kid, I—”

Peter seemed almost panicked when he upped the offer. “T-two thousand if that’s not enough!”

“Okay. Okay,” said Trevor, putting his hands up in an attempt to defuse the tension. “No need to get carried away, kid. First of all, tell me why you want this and then maybe we can talk about it.”

He needed to know if this kid was being sincere. As good as the money was, his time was more precious. And besides, martial arts was a great responsibility. He didn’t want to pass it on to someone for frivolous reasons.

The change in Peter’s gaze was marked. It went from uncertain to firm. His determination was almost palpable. “I want to get stronger. So I can protect my people.”

Trevor was surprised by the answer. “You do know there are other ways to protect people, right?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t want to rely on anyone else!” he said. “I want my strength to be my own!”

Trevor sighed. It was a line of reasoning he couldn’t very well refute. It was what drove him, after all. “Alright, fine. 2 grand every session. But just because you’re paying doesn’t mean you’re getting any special treatment.”

He rubbed his temples. It wasn’t that he was unwilling; it was just going to end up being a major inconvenience not having his evenings free.

“Honestly, since you’re so earnest about what you want to do, the training is probably going to be even more hellish than what I put my regular students through,” said Trevor.

“T-that’s f-fine,” Peter stammered, his earlier confidence seemingly gone.

“That’s the price of getting stronger—of cultivating your own power.”

Peter took a breath. Although there was a tremor in his voice, he still looked into Trevor’s eyes and said, “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

Trevor cracked a small smile. The kid’s eyes were strange. Blue with the faintest hint of a purple shimmer when they moved. “Come back in two nights. Around this time should be fine.”

Peter frowned.

“Something wrong?” said Trevor, quirking an eyebrow.

“W-well, I was hoping maybe we could start tonight.”

Trevor chuckled and shook his head. He didn’t think he had the mental fortitude, but Peter had asked so earnestly. “Honestly, I was giving you a chance to prepare yourself.”

Peter’s gaze hardened. “I’m ready,” he said.

It was impressive. Peter might have been a nervous wreck, but he had promise. And he had a kind of grit that Trevor could only admire.

“We’ll see,” said Trevor. “Come on.”

---

After Trevor flipped the switch, there was an audible clang of relays tripping before the lights came on. He didn’t really need them since he saw pretty well in darkness but it was more a courtesy for his newest student.

The lights were pretty stark during the evenings—not exactly the best for a dojo but they were the best he could afford. If nothing else, they were pretty long-lasting.

Peter walked in behind him, looked around, and said under his breath, “I always wondered what this place looked like on the inside…”

Trevor quirked an eyebrow and pointedly looked at the front of the dojo. “There are windows, you know,” he said.

“It’s different standing inside instead of looking in from the outside.”

Trevor chuckled. “Fair point. Why didn’t you come in?” he said, though he could imagine the answer had something to do with the general air of hesitance and uncertainty that surrounded Peter.

“Too nervous,” said Peter, rubbing his arm. “I-I thought I’d make a fool of myself if I tried to sign up… It’s why I want to take private lessons instead…”

Trevor had a faint sense that something wasn’t quite right, but here in the slums, everyone had their secrets and he wasn’t going to press unless he felt it was an imminent threat to his family. “You seem awfully familiar with the way we operate, though…”

Peter flushed. “I-I grew up nearby,” he said. “I-I would sit on the front step every morning to watch the kids with guts go inside.”

“Why haven’t I seen you around more, then?” said Trevor as he set his bag down at the back of the room. “The community’s pretty tight-knit. I’m sure I would have remembered your face.”

Peter was silent for a moment. It spoke volumes. Trevor realized he’d touched on a sensitive subject.

“I-I didn’t have a great childhood,” said Peter. “I got taken in by the state, so I had no choice…”

“Ah…” Trevor gave Peter a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I hope things got better after you got away from your birth family?”

The small, forced smile on Peter couldn’t be described as anything but rueful. “The whole foster family thing never really worked out for me.”

Trevor winced. “I’ve heard horror stories,” he said. “I’m just glad the community came together to help when I lost my parents…”

“Is that why you foster so many kids?”

Trevor nodded. “It’s my way of giving back. And I want to make sure I can at least change a few lives for the better, since I know so many have been failed by the government.”

Peter chuckled, but there wasn’t a trace of mirth in his voice. “I almost wish you had been one of my foster parents,” he said.

Trevor sighed and walked over, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry life has been so unfair to you. And this might be weird coming from a stranger, but… for what it’s worth, I hope it gets better for you from now on.”

Peter shrugged. “I hope so too.”

After a moment of silence that was only slightly awkward, Trevor clapped his hands. The sharp sound reverberated in the empty dojo.

“Well, now that we know a little bit about each other, we should probably start,” he said in an attempt to redirect the conversation to more productive things.

“I-I’d like that very much,” said Peter.

“You stay here,” said Trevor after gently guiding Peter to the edge of the training mat. As he made his way back to the center, he said, “The first and most important thing you should learn—more important than anything else I can possibly teach you—is awareness.”

Trevor had grabbed a cloth belt earlier and was now tying it around his eyes as a makeshift blindfold. “If you don’t have awareness, then it doesn’t matter how hard your punches are, how strong your kicks can be. Even the most tyrannical of techniques is worthless if you can’t tell where and how your opponent is attacking you.”

“I guess that makes sense…” said Peter. “But how can I work on that?”

“Let me worry about that,” said Trevor. “Go on. Grab something—anything—and throw it at me as hard as you can. I want you to really try and catch me by surprise. Move around the room if you want.”

Even with his eyes blindfolded, Trevor knew exactly where Peter was. It was the benefit of awareness, but it also made the challenge rather trivial.

Taking a moment to focus inward, Trevor slowly retracted his senses to himself. He wanted the reaction to be as genuine as possible.

The slightest breath of wind was the only thing that alerted him it was time to move. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

The instinct to take control stirred, but he pushed it down. Instead, he followed the momentum of his body, carrying through into the motions he’d practiced thousands of times.

He snatched the projectile out of the air—only to find the texture to be different than what he expected. That wasn’t the only surprise, however. There was more strength in the throw than he thought there would be, given Peter’s relatively lanky physique.

Curious as to what the boy could have thrown at him, Trevor brought it closer. The moment he did, he caught a whiff of a positively offensive odor—one that wasn’t unfamiliar to him.

It was the smell of used gym socks and sweat—a smell that wasn’t at all unfamiliar to him as the foster father of four young men and others before them.

There was something else in there, too. A scent he couldn’t quite put a finger on. One that gave a pleasant tingle in the back of his head. It was gone almost as soon as he noticed it and he had to wonder if it was ever actually there.

Trevor slipped the blindfold off his head and laughed when he saw that he was holding a shoe. He’d suspected as much once he puzzled out the shape of it.

He cocked an eyebrow at Peter and said, “Really?” after casting a pointed glance at the shoe he was holding.

Peter shrugged, a faint flush in his cheeks. “I-I thought you wanted the attack to be spontaneous, so I figured I should use something you wouldn’t be expecting…”

Trevor shook his head and chuckled. Peter was starting to grow on him, if he was being honest. Despite his earlier reservations. “I suppose that’s fair enough,” he said.

After a moment, he continued. “You’ve got a pretty good arm on you. I didn’t expect that. No offense.”

Peter sheepishly scratched his cheek. “S-sorry.”

“No. No. That’s good! It means you’ve got a pretty decent foundation to build on.”

“O-oh!” Peter cracked a smile. “T-thank you,” he said.

Trevor shrugged and returned the smile. “Just telling the truth, kid.”

Peter nodded. “U-um… That…that was awesome. H-howe did you do it? How could you catch something that was being thrown from behind you?”

“That’s what awareness is,” said Trevor. “Have you ever felt that sensation people talk about, where it feels like you’re being watched, only to realize you are being watched?”

Peter nodded. “I-I guess so, yeah…”

“Right. That’s your awareness, too. It’s something everyone knows how to use to some extent,” said Trevor. “It’s just a matter of taking conscious control of that process and using it to pick up on the subtle cues in the environment like the way that the air flows through a space.”

Peter lit up. “That’s so cool,” he said almost breathlessly. It was as if his inner child had suddenly surfaced. “Can you teach me?”

Trevor laughed. “You’re the one paying 2 grand a session, buddy. You better hope I can.”

---

Trevor pitched a tennis ball at Peter—not with so much force that it would cause injury, but it was going to hurt if it ended up hitting its mark.

Peter was in the middle of the mat, blindfolded. He at least managed to turn toward the ball and tried to snatch it out of the air like Trevor had.

Unfortunately for the kid, his timing was off just a bit. He moved too quickly, his hand passing through the trajectory of the ball a moment before the ball did. It struck him on the forehead, bouncing off with a hollow sound before hitting the ceiling.

“It isn’t just about knowing where the attack is coming from,” said Trevor. “You have to figure out how fast it’s coming and when to try and block or deflect.”

Peter turned toward Trevor. “I-I’m trying!” he said. “But it’s not exactly as easy as what we were doing before.”

The earlier exercise had been relatively simple. All Trevor had wanted to do was prime Peter’s senses for the proper training. He’d had the kid point to him every few seconds while he moved through the room.

“That’s what training is for,” said Trevor. He used some footwork to make his steps as light as a feather, making a circuit around the room without producing a sound before pitching the ball at Peter.

This time, Peter managed to knock the ball out of the air—even if his intent was clearly to catch it. “Fuck!”

“Slow down, kid,” said Trevor. “It starts with blocking. When you have that down, then you can start catching.”

“I could feel it though,” said Peter. “I just couldn’t move fast enough to snatch the ball out of the air.”

Trevor chuckled. “That’s because your stance is atrocious,” he said.

“Stance?” Oddly enough, Peter’s voice was steadier and more collected while he had the blindfold on. It was curious.

“A proper stance can be the difference between life and death in a fight,” said Trevor. “It’s what lets you move your body in the fastest, most efficient way possible.”

Trevor chuckled and cracked a grin. “Truth be told, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice the problem. The fact you could recognize it without being prompted is pretty good.”

Peter seemed to perk up. “Yeah? You think so? I just complained about my body not moving the way I wanted it to, though.”

“Except you were pretty specific about it. You said your body isn’t moving fast enough,” said Trevor. “Most of my students don’t even know they’re doing anything wrong until I tell them so.”

Trevor shook his head. “You have a talent for this. It’s just a shame you only decided to take lessons now.”

“I-is that a problem?” said Peter, managing to deflect another tennis ball.

Trevor shrugged. “Better late than never,” he said. “It won’t be as easy as if you had started from a young age, but honestly, it’s mostly about dedication and hard work—not time.”

Peter was silent for a moment. “O-okay,” he said, finally, after knocking another tennis ball out of the air. “Fuck. Okay. Well. I, uh… I’ll keep that in mind. Again. Please.”

Trevor smiled. He had to admire Peter’s grit. He threw another ball and this time, Peter tried to catch it again.

“Fuck!” Peter growled under his breath, throwing his hands up when he failed to grab the ball out of the air.

“If you can’t handle a few mistakes, you might as well give up,” said Trevor. “Time isn’t the ultimate factor, but it does play its part.”

He picked up one of the tennis balls that had been deflected already. “It will take your body time to develop the muscle memory. And more importantly, it will take time for you to learn the proper stance.”

Peter stood up straight. “Maybe you should show me what it looks like.”

Trevor paused. He shook his head and laughed. “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind.” He approached Peter, taking a moment to walk around the boy and take note of the deficiencies in his stance.

He stopped behind Peter, using his foot to nudge Peter’s legs into the right position. He placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders, bearing down with just enough pressure to gently lower him into place.

While Trevor was doing this, he caught a whiff of that strange scent from earlier again. A faintly musky, faintly sweet odor that tickled the back of his nose. A smell that was oddly tantalizing, sending a subtle thrill through his body.

He took a deep breath to drink in as much of the scent as he could—before it even registered that that was what he was doing.

Trevor coughed and pulled back, unsure of what was going on with him. It didn’t look like Peter had noticed, though, which was a blessing.

Whatever was happening, he set it aside. He had a student to focus on. Carefully, he moved Peter’s arms into position, his touch a lot gentler than it would usually be.

It was as if he were caressing the arms of a lover, his fingers tracing feather-light down Peter’s arms. When he realized what he was doing, he grabbed the boy’s wrists—perhaps a hint more forcefully than he intended—and moved them into position.

Trevor cleared his throat and took a step back. His cheeks were warm, but he tried not to let on that he was embarrassed. “Stay in that position. But relax into it. You’re too tense.”

He took a moment to make sure Peter was keeping the stance correctly and retreated to the edge of the mat when he was satisfied. He pitched another tennis ball at the boy after repositioning.

This time, Peter managed to catch the ball. Only just. And at the last moment, it slipped out of his grasp. He stumbled out of his stance chasing after it, but it was too late. The ball bounced across the mat and rolled away.

Peter straightened up and pulled the blindfold off his face. “C-could you demonstrate?” he said. “I-I’m not sure I get it entirely.”

Trevor hadn’t planned to, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt to do a demonstration. He walked into the middle of the mat and lowered himself into the stance. “Alright. Throw a ball at me.”

It seemed as though Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at Trevor. “U-um…” Peter looked at floor and rubbed his arm. " Actually… Y-your shirt makes it difficult to see what you’re actually doing with your body."

Trevor quirked an eyebrow. “What are you trying to say?”

“N-nothing!” said Peter, a hint of alarm in his voice. “I-I was just thinking that maybe it would be better if I could see which muscle groups are contracting and relaxing, you know?”

Trevor bit back a laugh. “You’re overthinking it,” he said. “It’s about listening to your body and going with the flow of energy through you.”

“P-please?” said Peter. “I-I don’t even know what parts to listen to!”

Trevor took a breath. That peculiar scent from before lingered in the air around him. He tried to ignore it.

“I suppose you make a decent point,” he said. “Alright.”

Trevor grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and peeled it off to reveal his muscular physique. “Pay attention, alright?” he said.

He felt oddly exposed. It was weird. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d done martial arts topless.

Even stranger, there was a small part of him that was a bit excited. He couldn’t quite understand why. The only thing he could think of was the fact that Peter was watching, but it didn’t make any sense—he barely knew the kid and even though Peter was cute, he just didn’t swing that way.

Trevor shook his head. It was probably just because he finally had a truly earnest student again after so long. That, and the fact that he hadn’t had a chance to show off in a while.

Maybe it was vain, but he already spent most of a time being a provider and a hero and a protector of his community. He was pretty sure no one would blame him a bit for being at least a little indulgent. Sometimes.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” said Trevor with a light laugh. “Here. I’m closing my eyes. Throw a ball at me.”

Once again, Trevor noticed more strength in the throw than expected as he caught the ball out of the air. “Did you catch the movement?”

“I-I think so… I-I didn’t get it all but I think I have an idea for what to do,” said Peter. “I-I’m still not sure about the stance, though… Um…”

Peter took a step forward. “C-could you go back into the stance?”

Trevor chuckled and did as asked.

“A-and would you mind if I… t-touched your body? I-I just want to really feel the stance for myself,” said Peter.

Trevor raised an eyebrow. It was a weird request, but the closer Peter got, the stronger that weird scent became. He took a deep breath and after breathing out, he realized that he had a responsibility as a teacher: he had to give his student every opportunity to succeed. If touching his body was what Peter needed, then he had to make himself available.

“Go ahead,” he said. “As much as you need to figure it out.”

Peter grinned for a moment. Before he managed to school his expression into something a bit more serious.

Part of Trevor thought it was strange. But he wasn’t sure why. Every lungful of that scent filled his head with a haze that made it difficult to think straight.

He pushed the thought aside. It was easy to become jaded and cynical, living where he did. He didn’t want to impose his hang-ups on someone that was likely innocent.

It was weird, feeling Peter’s hands on his body. The boy’s touch was light and hesitant, fingertips tracing the musculature of his arms. Oddly enough, he didn’t think he minded, though.

That Trevor wasn’t complaining gave Peter license to be bolder with his exploration. The boy palmed his biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as he worked his way up Trevor’s arms.

Peter whistled. “Your body is amazing,” he said. “You’d look great on the cover of a fitness magazine.”

Trevor blushed faintly. It was kind of embarrassing, but the compliment felt good. It was nice to have his efforts acknowledged. Not that he’d bulked up out of vanity; he’d done it for the same reasons as Peter. To protect the people he cared for.

“Too high-profile,” he said, about the matter of the magazine.

Peter chuckled. “This kind of body deserves admiration, though,” he said, rubbing his hands over the corded muscles of Trevor’s shoulders and upper back. “Fuck. Your body feels so strong and hard.”

Trevor wanted to tell the boy off for being so handsy—that he wasn’t into that sort of thing—but one deep lungful and the thought simply fluttered away. In its place was a frisson of arousal that only got stronger as Peter’s hands roamed his body.

At the same time, he felt a peculiar sense of protectiveness. Like he wanted to wrap his arms around Peter. Protect him. Like his boys.

“I wish I had a body like yours,” said Peter, running his hands along the tops of Trevor’s shoulders.

Trevor couldn’t help but preen a little. “Like martial arts, maintaining a good body is all about grit and hard work,” he said.

“It must have been a lot of hard work,” said Peter. He moved his hands over to Trevor’s chest, slipping them under Trevor’s arms.

Trevor had never had anyone feel up his chest the way Peter was. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not at all unwelcome.

“I love how big you are,” said Peter.

The comment sent alarm bells ringing in Trevor’s head. It was inappropriate—not just the comment but the way Peter was touching him, lightly flicking at his nipples.

But it felt so strangely good. And with every breath he took, the alarms seemed to grow fainter and fainter.

Peter’s fingers trailed down from Trevor’s chest and over his cobbled abs. They dipped into the ridges and valleys of the firm musculature, sending a thrill through Trevor.

“Your body feels like it was carved out of a block of granite…” said Peter, the awe evident in his voice. “You could stand to show yourself off more, you know… You have the body for it.”

Trevor’s cock twitched. He was getting turned on, somehow. He didn’t know why, only that it felt amazing. “I-I prefer to keep a low profile, you know? I don’t want to be flashy or showy… a standout.”

Peter chuckled. “That’s a shame… Because a body like this deserves to be seen.”

Trevor thought about it for a moment. He didn’t know if he agreed. But after taking a breath to try to clear his head, he realized that Peter had a point. He had a great body. Covering it up because he didn’t want to attract attention seemed like an awful waste.

Before the conversation could go any further, though, the back door to the gym swung open. The clang of the lock disengaging was quite audible.

“Fuck. I’m so glad to be home!” The voice filtered in from the back and Trevor recognized it to be his youngest, Leo.

Peter pulled his hands off Trevor and retreated back to the edge of the mat. It all happened so quickly Trevor couldn’t help but stare and blink in confusion.

He’d been enjoying the sensation of Peter’s hands on his body—even if there were alarm bells in his head that told him he shouldn’t have been. The sudden interruption felt oddly jarring.

“Oh, hey, dad. I didn’t think you would still be…” said Leo as he came into the main floor of the dojo, trailing off when he noticed that Peter was there and that Trevor was shirtless. “Um… What’s going on here? Who’s he?”

Trevor snatched his shirt up off the ground and pulled it back on. “This is Peter,” he said. “I decided to start taking private lessons again. This is our first session.”

Leo seemed surprised—not an unexpected reaction given what Trevor had said in the past. “I didn’t think we were still doing those…”

Trevor shrugged. “Peter offered to pay. And he made a pretty good case for himself.”

“He did, huh?” said Leo. He looked at Peter, clearly not buying the summarized explanation. “How much?”

“Two grand,” said Trevor.

Leo’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “A session?” he said.

Trevor nodded.

“I-it’s just I came into a bit of money recently, and…”

Leo waved him off. “It’s alright, man. 2 grand, huh? Damn. Well, if dad’s up for it, do whatever you want. Hey, uh… Do you mind if I sit in?”

Peter frowned. It was gone so quickly Trevor might have missed it without his superhuman senses.

“T-there’s no need,” said Peter. “I-it’s getting late. A-and I forgot to feed my snake. So I-I should probably get going. But I’ll be back whenever you’re available for another session!”

Trevor frowned. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be busy tomorrow night, but come back in two days and I should have some time.”

Peter gave him a small smile. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “H-hope you two have a good rest of your evening!”

Leo stared after Peter long after he’d scurried out of the dojo. “What was that about?” he said after a minute or so, turning his gaze to Trevor.

Trevor shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure myself…”