2 #2
Coach’s eyes snap to me, narrowing. He likes order… everyone seated, everyone paying attention. He raises his brows and plants his hands on his hips, that silent warning we all know too well.
Before I can even brace, Remy’s hand clamps on my shoulder and yanks me down hard onto the bench beside him. “Dude, sit the fuck down or Coach’ll moan like a bitch,” he says, laughing like it’s any other day.
My ass hits the hard wooden plank and pain flares sharp and bright, like someone just lit a match inside me.
I’ve never been penetrated before today, and everything back there is raw and sore.
I just needed a little more time standing, for God’s sake.
A whimper slips out before I can stop it.
I bite my lips together hard, eyes watering instantly.
Remy glances back at me, realization dawning. He coughs to cover a laugh, eyes wide. “Ohhhh… shit. Sorry, man. You good?”
I just hum, “Mhmm,” and nod, staring fixedly at the floor, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
He pats my shoulder gently, leaning in so only I can hear. “Sorry…”
Coach splits us into two teams for a mini scrimmage, me captaining one side, Remy the other.
The indoor hall is massive, built for days exactly like this: high vaulted ceilings that swallow the echoes of cleats on the polished hardwood, full-sized goalposts set up at each end, turf mats rolled out down the centre to protect the floor but still give us traction.
Massive industrial fans hum overhead, pushing the cold air around, and the walls are lined with banners from past Big Ten championships.
It feels like a cavernous arena, plenty of room for routes and blocks.
Today, though, Remy is giving me a genuine run for my money.
He’s sharp… cutting harder, catching everything I throw at him, even when it’s off target, grinning wide every time he burns one of my defenders.
He’s lighter than he’s been in weeks, bouncing on his toes, high fiving his teammates, laughing loud at every little thing.
And I know exactly why: he finally got that release he was desperate for.
The thought twists weird in my gut. I’m still weirded out by the whole thing, but watching him act so completely chill, like nothing even happened…
makes me wonder why it’s eating at me this much, when he clearly doesn’t find it strange at all.
My team still pulls out the win, but only by a single touchdown. Close enough that the guys on Remy’s side are talking shit as we jog back to centre.
◆◆◆
Half an hour in, Harry and Jeb collapse dramatically in the middle of the floor, sprawling out like they’ve been shot.
Coach barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, take a break, guys. I’ll go easy on you today!”
I bend forward, hands on my knees, chest heaving as sweat drips off my forehead onto the turf. The cold air feels good against my burning skin.
Then a hand lands on my lower back, familiar, and Remy’s voice comes from behind me. “Here you go, man.” He holds my water bottle out in front of my face.
I straighten fast and step away, just enough that it doesn’t look obvious, but yeah… I don’t want to be touched right now. I take the bottle from him, tip my head back, and chug a long gulp, the cold water cutting through the heat in my throat.
Remy grins, wiping his own face with the hem of his shirt. “I did good, huh?”
I close the bottle, letting out a breathless laugh. “Better than usual.”
He shoves my shoulder playfully. “Ah, you’ll always be the cap. I could never beat your ass.”
My eyes go wide before I can stop them. He didn’t mean it like that, but my brain goes straight there anyway: he literally did beat my ass, beat into it with his dick not even an hour ago.
I don’t say anything. But heat crawls up my neck, and I just lower myself carefully to the cool floor, stretching out on my stomach so I don’t have to put any pressure on my still-sore ass.
I fold my arms under my head, close my eyes, and let out a slow breath.
Honestly, it would be perfect if Coach just let us chill like this for the rest of the session.
The guys are strewn all over the hall like we just survived a war…
most flat on their backs on the turf, a few sitting up against the walls chugging water, Matteo draped dramatically across one of the benches like he’s posing for a Renaissance painting of a dying soldier.
I’m not really listening, eyes still closed, cheek pressed to my folded arms, trying to let the cold floor soak the heat out of me.
Then Harry’s voice cuts through. “Man, Remy was on fire today. What’d you eat for breakfast, bro? Lightning?”
Tyler laughs. “Nah, he only plays like that when he’s been laid. Facts.”
My whole body freezes, heart kicking hard against my ribs. Fuck.
“Is Hannah back or something?” Tyler adds, curious but casual.
Remy laughs, so fucking easy, so light… that it starts to grate on me for no good reason.
He’s acting like sliding into your best friend is no different from a handshake, like it’s nothing.
But to me it feels huge, heavier than I want to admit.
I haven’t had actual sex in months… perfectly happy jerking off when the mood hit, and now I’m praying I can just go back to that normal, uncomplicated place.
“Nah,” Remy says smoothly. “Just found a new porno that really did the trick for me.”
Harry slaps the floor, howling. “No way!”
Matteo lifts his head from the bench. “Oh, was it Busty Asian Beauties? Love that channel…”
Remy laughs louder, clicks his fingers, and points right at him. “Exactly, my man!”
The whole group cracks up, totally buying it. Easy lie, easy laughs. Then Remy’s laugh drops lower, quieter, and I feel two quick pats on my back… like he’s checking in, or reassuring me, or something. I don’t move. I don’t react at all.
Jeb pipes up from the floor. “Yo, you two coming to my house party? New place, fifteen-minute walk from here.”
I lift one hand just enough to give a weak thumbs-up without opening my eyes.
Remy answers for both of us. “Yeah, dude, of course. When is it?”
“Next Saturday, the eleventh,” Jeb says.
“Cool, I’ll be there,” Remy nods. “You invite a lot of people?”
“Whole team, plus whoever they wanna bring. It’s gonna be a riot.”
The energy picks up instantly… guys whooping, already planning pre-games.
Then Marcus chimes in, grinning. “Cole could do with getting laid, though. Look at him sulking down there.”
I sigh loud enough for them to hear. Before I can brace, fingers dig into my ribs, tickling hard. I jerk, a surprised laugh bursting out as I twist away.
Tyler’s hovering over me, smirking. “Yeah, this big grumpy caveman needs some of whatever Remy had. Been a right miserable twat this afternoon.”
I shove him off, still laughing despite myself. “Shut up, idiot.”
“Seriously, when was the last time you had some action? It’s good for the soul, bro.”
I push myself up, stretching my arms overhead, and catch Remy’s grin, he’s looking down, fiddling with the cap on his water bottle like he’s trying not to laugh.
I shrug. “It’s been… a few months, but…”
Tyler cuts me off. “Ah-ah! No buts! You’re coming to the party. I’m gonna be your wingman and find you a hot chick to bang.”
“You’re disgusting,” I mutter.
He grins wider, swinging a sweaty arm around my shoulders. “Don’t flatter me.”
I shake my head, but the idea settles in anyway. Maybe a party and a hookup wouldn’t be the worst thing. Maybe it’d reset everything back to normal.