˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ Dirty Little Secret.
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - You joined his gym a few months ago and he grew a small crush on you despite you being a man.
Inspired by - Dirty Little Secret by Nessa Barrett
Words - 1k+(?)
Warnings - (little)Internalized homophobia, religious guilt, smut, begging, choking(?), angst at the end
A / N - this was before he was married, so he was about 23-24 in this. Also, it might be ass mainly because while I was making this, half of the time I was high lmao. Plus I am not a boy so this is my first time writing FOR a man yn, pls dont judge
At first you were nothing. Just another teammate that joined his gym.
But that changed. He began to watch you. He began to have thoughts that were surely sinful. He started thinking about how you would look in his bed, how you would look without those shorts, how your lips would feel. He prayed hundreds of times for the thoughts to leave, but they wouldn't. It only grew worse.
He would study you whenever you sparred with Islam, or watch you when you would walk to your vehicle. Islam noticed. He notices everything. "What's on your mind, brother?" Islam asked quietly after a rough training session. "You seem distracted."
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong." Khabib said as soon as Islam was finished, eyes darting to where you were last.
Islam didn't believe him, but didn't press. He knew Khabib would just close up more.
He slowly became more obsessed with each day, watching you like a eagle watches it's prey. His thoughts would be filled with explicit things, thinking how you would moan his name in bed. How you would cry out when he got too rough. How you would feel.
It was slowly eating him away, like a virus taking his mind away each day that passes. He knew if anyone found this out, he would surely be looked down on, especially his father.
So all he could do.. Was watch. Occasionally sparring with you, but it would only make him more hungry. Hungry for you.
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Today was like normal, the morning dark as he woke up to his alarm on his phone. 5 am. He grumbled as he stared at his bright screen before turning it off and sitting up on the thin mattress on his bed frame. He swung his legs out under his blanket and rested his feet on the hardwood flooring.
He ran a hand over his face as he slowly began to fully wake up. The first thing that popped up in his mind was you. He fucking hated it. He buried his face in the palms of his hands, muttering a curse in low Russian.
He finally stood, dragging his feet out of his bedroom and out to th kitchen where his father was already fully dressed and ready.
"Assalamu alaykum." Khabib muttered out tiredly, reaching out to grab a cup of coffee.
"Wa alaykumu s-salam." Abdulmanap replied quietly.
As the morning passed, khabib found himself with his hands in his pockets, looking around at the cold scenery. Snow blanketed the grass, covered tree leafs, and buried any living plants. Mountains in the distance framed the old buildings. His feet crunch in the white soft ice. His face rosey due to the cold temperatures, his breath visible in the air. He finally reached the gym, his cold shaky hands opening the door. The warm air immediately hit his face.
He looks up and sees.. You? You're rarely ever early. Or on time. You were on the mats, stretching silently. You look over at the sound of the creaky door opening, greeting Khabib with a gentle smile. You stood up and walked over to him.
"Assalamu alaykum." You greeted as you slap a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He froze at your touch, warm hands making contact with his freezing shoulder. He muttered out a weak "Wa alaykum s-salam"
"You okay? You look distracted recently." You asked gently, concerned. Khabib looked at you, debating on telling the truth but ultimately choosing not to. "I'm fine." He said back before turning to walk to the locker room.
You just nodded silently as you watch him move to the room, eyes tracing his figure. You swallow at the thought of him. You've been watching Khabib too. You just had a better way of hiding it, mainly because you've been hiding it since you were thirteen. When you were pressured into joining the sport, it awoke your true self. At first you prayed every single time you found yourself with those sinful thoughts. Soon, you grew to pretend. To hide, because if any of the men found out about your homosexuality, it would be chaos.
You walk back over to the mat, beginning to train once again. Soon, Khabib walks out, in his training attire. Khabib goes across the room, beginning his warm ups. You glance at him in confusion before continuing your warm up. Soon, others began to flood the gym, chatting warmly, not noticing you and Khabib.
As the day passes, the gym was filled with sweaty men wrestling, sparring, or taking breaks. You were one of the men taking breaks. You sat against the mat, breathing heavily as sweat drips down your forehead and soaking into your eyebrow. You take a long gulp of water, the cold rush shooting down your hot body. You glance over at Khabib, whom you make eye contact with. You smirk slightly and he immediately pulled his gaze away, embarrassed.
You just continue drinking your water. Everything was alright until a sweaty Usman plopped down next to you, breathing heavily. "Fuck... It's hot..." He groaned out tiredly. He sideways glance at your water bottle, silently asking for a sip. You put give the water to Usman, him taking greedy gulps as usual. Usman was like your brother, been best friends since freshmen year.
You and Usman began to chat about training and that. You hadn't notice Khabib glancing at you two, jealous. His jaw was clenched and he was training a little harder since you and Usman started talking. He knew you two had a pure platonic relationships, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. Like you were his.
After training was finished, you and Khabib stayed the longest. Saying back to help clean the gym. Soon after, you walk to the shower, grabbing the soap bar you brought from your locker. You turn on the steaming water, the droplets hitting your skin. You sigh as you just stand there, letting the water slide down your bare body. The door opens and Khabib steps in before immediately slamming the door shut when he realized you were in there. You just stare at the closed door, Khabib spewing apologies in Russian.
His heart was racing, he almost saw your.. And you almost saw his... Strictly forbidden. Soon, you came out the shower, towel wrapped around your hips. "Showers free." you muttered loud enough for the embarrassed Khabib to look up and stare at you. At your body. You weren't hairy, but you sure did have hair on you. Dark hair softly covered your chest with a stripe of hair trailing down your stomach, into the towel. You walk over to your locker, pulling out fresh clothes.
Khabib swallows as he continues to watch you, trying to resist the urge to just walk up to you and kiss you. To pull the towel off. To pin you against the cold metal of the lockers and-
"Can you get in the shower so I can change?" you asked. The bathrooms were dirty and getting cleans by the janitors and the other showers were either being repaired or simply too dirty from the past users from today. Khabib nods shakily, moving to go into the shower before halting. He stood in the door way before turning to look around you. Your back faced him as you were typing on your phone. His chest tightened slightly before stepping into the shower.
Cold water shot down onto his skin, attempting to cool the heated skin. He let the water flow smoothly down his abs, washing away the sweat. He heard the lockerroom door open and close, signaling you left. He turns off the water, opening the shower door. His feet padding against the concrete. He stood in front of your locker, staring at it before he enters your code. He learned it a long time ago, remembering it when you asked Khabib to get your water from your locker when you were sparring with Islam.
He saw the spar clothes you left there, and another used shirt you forgot to take. He reaches out, his fingers curling around the fabric. He brings it up to his nose, breathing in your scent. Definitely musky, but still had the faint cologne scent you wore. He sits on the wooden bench, burying his face in the shirt. The water that was previously on his skin drips down into the ground.
His breathing became more ragged the longer he kept his face in the clothing. He muttered out a rough curse before slowly standing up, putting the shirt back in the locker. He looked down at his erection, grumbling before walking over to the shower again. He had to wash the filth he was covered in. The sin guilting him. He took a long cold shower to calm down his erection, teeth grinding.
The later night wasn't any better. He stayed awake, staring at his ceiling. You wouldn't leave his mind. The soft trail of hair ducking down that towel you wore earlier. Your defined abs glistening in the soft light of the locker room. He subconsciously began to palm himself through his boxers, letting out a low whimper. His breathing became ragged once he fully submerged his hand below the waistline of his boxers.
He squeezed his eyes shut and moved his free hand to cover his mouth, whimpering behind it. The more he thought about you, the more he got turned on. He imagined you beneath him, scratching at his shoulders, moaning out his name as he moved his hips faster. He imagined you breathing in his ear, begging him not to stop.
Everything halted when the black turned white, finally pushed to the edge. He came hard into his hand, staining the jet black boxers he wore. He breathed heavily before sitting up. He lifted the thin blanket off his legs, staring at the mess he made. He stood up and moved to take the boxers off, switching them with new ones. He then reached over for his phone, pulling up your contact. He was tempted to message you. He sat down on the edge of his bed, typing and deleting message after message.
He finally sent one. A simple, "Are you awake?". In all honesty, he didn't expect you to be. It was 2:34 am, but your response came quick.
"Yeah, what's up?" You sent back
"Nothing. Just couldn't sleep." He hesitatingly sent back, swallowing.
"I feel you. It's so boring."
"Wanna hangout? Odd times, I know, but I know a place that would be cool to see at night."
His response was immediate. "Yes. I'll pick you up." He sent before quickly dressing in sweatpants, black tee, and a old gray jacket he buried behind all the fancy stuff. He stuffed his car keys and phone in his pocket before sneaking out.
He starts up his car, driving towards your address. His heart was racing. What would you two even do? Just talk? He pulled up to your apartment, not a fancy one. More like the broke down apartments you see in th poor part of town. He texts you he arrived and you immediately walk out the door. You wore simple jeans and a hoodie. You climb into his passenger seat.
"Lemme see your phone. I'll type the place down." You said almost immediately, looking at him softly. He handed his phone over to you, speaking out his password.
"It's my birthday." He said gently as he studied your profile as you typed his password in. He wasn't expecting you to know his birthday because you and him weren't close-close. Just friends, you could say?
You typed the address in and handed it back to him, locking eyes. He nervously broke eye contact and shoot his eyes down to his phone, trying to distract himself.
"Oh, I know this place!! It's my favorite spot to relax." He said with a smile. He puts the vehicle into drive and began to push the pedal with his foot. The roads were quiet. Especially at 3 am. The only noise was the tires crunching against the rough road and your soft breathing. It was weirdly comfortable.
Soon, Khabibs car pulled into the road that led to the spot. His car stopped moving and he took the key out, turning to you.
"We're here." He said softly. You just nodded and climbed out the car, shoes stepping onto the soft grass. The cold air hit you, it felt calming. Like you were supposed to be there. Khabib silently approached you, watching every move you made. You looked.. Handsome. The soft moonlight highlighting your features. The way your breathing slowed in the wind, the way you looked like a god in his eyes. He was fighting every urge to not kiss you, to feel your soft lips against his rough ones.
"Follow me." You spoke out, walking forward. Soft, blue flowers scattered around the hill. As you two gradually made your way up there, a gazebo came into sight. Old, but sturdy. Vines curled themselves around the thin columns, sprouting beautiful small flowers.
The silence was comfortable. Not like the times at the gym when it was just you two. You step onto the wooden platform before sitting down on one of the seats in the middle. You jus stare into the sky, staying silent. Khabib followed your steps, sitting across from you. His eyes just stared. Stared at you. Beautiful you.
"Khabib.. You're staring." You pointed out softly, looking at him.
"I can't help but stare at you..." He thought loudly, just admiring you like a fool.
Because in all honesty? He was. He was for you. Only you.
He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his. He immediately looked down, feeling your warm hand in his. His eyes shot up to yours, eyes wide like he was scared. He was.
"Y/n..." He muttered lowly, his voice hoarse from nervousness. His hand slowly gave in, relaxing in your touch. His eyes were starry eyed, yet filled with fear. Fear of being caught with a man like this.
"Khabib.. I.." You started but trailed off, voice stuttering. "I like you." You blurted out finally. You were a grown man, but you felt like a teenage boy confesssing again.
"Please.. Khabib, I never felt like-" You were sharply cut off when Khabib pressed a silent kiss against your hand, eyes staring into yours. You were at a loss as Khabib began to press more kisses, like he was marking territory, but in a soft way. You could tell he was nervous though. The way his hands shook slightly as they held your hand.
He stood up and walked to your side of the table, sitting next to you. His musky Cologne filling your nose. It made you hazy. You loved it. Khabib leaned close, breath mingling with yours. Your eyes kept glancing down to his lips, tempted to lean in closer. You were... but Khabib beat you to it. The kiss was soft at first. The moonlight glowing over the scene, until it became desperate. His tongue tangled with yours, his hands gripping the sides of your face.
The night filled with small moans and whimpers as the kiss carried on. He had you pushed down against the wooden bench, hands wandering over your body. He lead soft, sloppy kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping and biting gently.
"K-khabib–.." You gasped out when he bit at your Adams apple. He grinned against your skin, huffing a bit of air out before leaving more subtle hickeys.
"Милый.." He whispered against your skin, making you shiver. You gripped the back of his head, rough fingers digging into the soft skin. He let out a soft groan, halting for a second before sitting up, staring at you with lustful eyes. His hands slid beneath your shirt before pulling it off you completely. His eyes shamelessly glide over your frame, admiring your soft abs, the veins ripple all over your bicepts and arms.. But despite all that, he was still bigger in every way.
Khabib fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants before just pushing them down along with the boxers. He stood proud, long, and thick. About 7.5 inches. Your own erection bulged against your gray sweatpants. It was painfully obvious. He grinned slightly, gently palming you through the fabric, watching you buck your hips into his touch, moaning.
It was mesmerizing. The usually kind but quiet guy in the gym now moaning and whimpering out his name. He fucking loved it. Reducing you to a mess.
He slips his hand around your waistband of your sweats and pull them down, revealing gray boxers. Your boner strained against them and Khabib began to palm again. He whispered small praises as tears began to well in your eyes. He knew he was torturing you, not giving in to what you so clearly wanted.
"Pretty." Khabib murmured lowly, watching you closely. You just spewed small Russian curses from your mouth, trying not to give in to the urge to come. The stimulation from his palming was not helping. He finally pulled his hand away and pulled down his briefs before pulling down yours. He gently pushes his tip against your rim, grinning as he felt you shudder.
"Breathe, baby..." he muttered softly before pushing more. You were unbearably tight and warm. Khabib let's out a small groan as he slipped into the warmth, hands tightening on your hips. His pace fastened ever so slightly, skin on skin filling the night air. Your hand went up to your mouth as your eyes rolled back as his length hits the spot that makes you see stars. He grins at that. His hand slides up to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly.
His rough fingers brush against your stubble that trailed up from beneath your jaw to your cheeks. The feeling made his hips stutter ever so slightly. "Y/n.." He grunted. His voice was rough with lust as he gained control over his hips once again. The more he hit your prostate, the closer you were.
"Kh-...Khabib.." You whined out into the cold night air. "I-I'm close.." You managed out lowly, eyes rolling back.
"M..me too.." His raspy voice followed after yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His hips began to speed up the closer he got. His grunts got changed to needy whines and whimpers, occasionally breathlessly whispering your name.
Finally, he hit your prostate for the last time until you came. Hard.
Your cock shot out thick ropes of cum onto yours and his stomach, causing his hips to stutter and he cum. He let out a string of curses, eyes rolling back as he felt the tightness of you. Warmth filling your lower stomach and back. You let out a low sigh in satisfaction as Khabib slowly pulled out, flinching at the freezing air. He kisses your jaw softly before standing up and pulling his sweats back on.
Your legs still shook as the wooden bench pressed into your skin. Your body was sore. Way too sore. Like you trained nonstop. Khabib picks up your sweats and helps them on you, occasionally looking up at your face.
He picks you up, knowing your legs are sore. You bury your face into his scruffy neck. "Don't mention this to anyone." He softly said as he set you in the passenger seat, making sure your comfortable.
Soon, once Khabib starts his car, you both stare out the car in comfortable silence. When he arrives at your beat up apartment, he opens your door for you, helping you limp to the door. He looks around slightly before sneaking a quick, soft kiss.
You let out a soft hum and smile before stepping into your cold home. You watch as his car slips out of the parking lot out your window before you flop onto your bed, his Cologne sticking to your shirt.
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The next morning, you limped into the gym silently. You had a gentle smile on your lips as you walked towards Khabib just for him to completely ignore you. When you said his name, he didn't spare a single glance at you. Just brushed past you and walked to the locker room. You follow him there, confused as you kept calling his name. The faster his pace got, the more confused you got.
"Khabib- slow down–" You said before roughly getting cut off with Khabib turning around with a look in his eyes you cant place.
"Stop following me around like a little puppy, Y/n." He spoke harshly, eyes cold. His jaw was clench as he continued to stare at you.
"What the fuck?.. What happened?" You said, confused.
"You, happened." He snapped. "You made me commit Haram. Sleeping with another man. Haram." He growled as he got closer. "I never want to see you at this gym again. I'll pay you to leave. Name your price." He said as he pulled out his wallet, pulling out ruble bills one by one.
"Here. Leave." He muttered as he shoved the bills into your hand. He could look at you. Not without tears forming now.
You stared at him stunned. Tears began to form but you wiped them away. You felt stabbed in the heart. Having to leave everyone you love. You couldn't resist and lean in, kissing him before walking away, chest tight. Tears began to fall down Khabib cheeks, but kept silent. His eyes were dark, cold.
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So now, here you are. In Italy somewhere random. It's been 3 years since you left Khabibs gym. You've never been happier.
You were walking around the streets, smiling as you held your dogs leash in your right hand, phone in the other. The warmth of the sun hitting your skin felt relaxing. You turn to step into a coffee shop, the smell of fresh coffee hitting your nose.
"Ciao!!" You greeted brightly to the cashier. You began to order your coffee until a cold chill was sent down your spine. You heard quiet men speaking Russian and you turn to the talking.
Khabib, Islam, and a few others. 
You felt sick to your stomach as you continue. You were shaking as you order your coffee. Your throat felt tight. Tears were threatening to fall. You finally get your coffee and turn to walk out before you lock eyes with him.
His dark eyes stared at yours with shock, his jaw tight.
You just rushed out the shop.
Never spoke to him again.
You were tired of him.
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