Messages from the Past
Back in his apartment, Paul unpacked the evening mentally while unpacking groceries. The scene replayed: hands, mouths, the brink of something deeper. He had wanted it, but doubt crept in. Was he rushing? The lone wolf in him rebelled against the vulnerability. Work the next day provided distraction: a long sales call, negotiating contracts for new medicinal lines. But his phone buzzed incessantly from the old Leipzig group chat. He ignored it at first, focusing on spreadsheets.
By lunch, curiosity won. He opened the app, scrolling through the messages. His old teammates: rough, hetero guys he considered family were active.
First from Marco, the loudmouth defender: "Hey, Koslowski! Googled your new club. Flying Otters? Sounds like a kids' swim team. But wait, their site has your pic. You posing with a bunch of... rainbows? WTF man, you switch sides or what? 😂🏳️🌈"
Paul's stomach dropped. The website. He had forgotten about the team photo from last practice, posted online. The LGBTQ+ banner prominent.
Then Lukas chimed in: "Haha, yeah, saw that. Paul, you trading handball for pride parades? Those guys look too friendly. Don't drop the soap in the showers! 😏"
Timo added: "Seriously, bro? From Leipzig lions to otter twinks? Bet you're the mascot now. Pink jersey incoming?"
Laughter emojis flooded. Paul's face burned. Mocking, crude, the kind of jokes they always made. But now, aimed at him, it stung. He scrolled, hoping it stopped.
More piled on. Another from Marco: "Come on, Paul, spill. You batting for the other team now? Or just desperate for a league?"
Paul set the phone down, appetite gone. Sadness washed over him, mixed with confusion. These were his friends, or had been. The jabs echoed his old self... the guy who laughed at gay jokes in the locker room. Now, on the receiving end, it felt hollow, hurtful. Was this who he was? Who he had been?
The chat buzzed again. Christopher's name popped up. Chris, his closest buddy from Leipzig, the one he roomed with on away games, shared beers and secrets with. Paul held his breath.
Christopher: "Alright, cut the shit, guys. Paul's our brother. Doesn't matter what club he's in or who he's with. Mocking him like this? That's low. We're better than that. If he's happy in Hamburg, good for him. And if he's exploring life, that's his business. Grow up. Apologize."
Silence in the chat for a minute. Then responses trickled.
Marco: "Damn, Chris is right. Sorry, Paul. Was just joking. Miss you, man."
Lukas: "Yeah, my bad. Didn't mean to hurt. Congrats on the new team. Kick ass. They even play in a higher league!"
Timo: "Sorry, bro. Stupid jokes. Come visit sometime."
More apologies followed, the tone shifting to support. Paul exhaled, a weight lifting. Chris private messaged him: "You good? Call if you need."
Paul typed back: "Thanks, man. Means a lot. I'm good, just adjusting."
He set the phone aside, but the mockery lingered, stirring confusion. The old life clashing with the new. He needed to talk, not just fuck it out. Finn came to mind: his straightforwardness, his care. Paul texted: "Hey, want to come over? Need to chat. No team stuff."
Finn replied quickly: "On my way. Bringing beer?"
Paul smiled faintly. "Sure."
An hour later, Finn arrived, blond hair tousled, carrying a six-pack and takeout burgers. "Figured you might be hungry." He set them down, pulling Paul into a hug. "What's up? You look off."
They settled on the couch, beers open. Paul recounted the group chat: the googling, the mocks, Chris's intervention, the apologies.
Finn listened intently, blue eyes focused. "That sucks. Old friends turning shitty. But props to Chris... sounds like a stand-up guy." He sipped his beer, then added with a gentle smile, "Reminds me of my coming out. Family was mixed, but the ones who mattered stepped up."
Paul nodded, the sadness easing. "It confused me more. Like, am I betraying who I was? Or am I just growing?"
Finn set his beer down, turning to face him fully. "Growth isn't betrayal. You're still Paul... the buff salesman who crushes handball. Just with more layers." He paused, expression serious. "Speaking of... last time, at Serkan's. Did I go too far? Push too much? I don't want to overwhelm you."
Paul shook his head. "No, it was me. I wanted it, but chickened out. You're good to me."
Finn's relief showed. "Good. Because I want more with you. Not just sex... though that's fucking amazing. Dates, talks, seeing where this goes." He grinned, lightening it. "I mean, imagine us at a trade show, me as your arm candy. I'd charm the clients right out of their wallets."
Paul laughed, the sound genuine. "You'd probably outsell me." Warmth spread. Finn wanted more. And Paul did too. The lone wolf craved pack, craved him.
"I want more too," Paul said softly. "And... deeper. Like, I want to fuck you. If you're into that. I don't know if you bottom or..."
Finn's eyes lit. "Vers all the way. Love switching. And with you? Thrilled." He leaned in, kissing Paul softly. "Let's explore."
They moved to the bedroom, clothes shedding slowly. Kissing deepened, hands roaming: Finn's blond chest hair, Paul's dark fur. Paul pushed Finn onto the bed, exploring with mouth—nipples, abs, down to his cock. He sucked slowly, savoring Finn's moans.
Finn flipped, offering himself. "Lube's in my bag." Paul prepped him carefully, fingers sliding in, scissoring. Finn arched, "Yes, like that."
Paul positioned, condom on, slicking up. He entered gradually, inch by inch. Tight heat enveloped him, Finn's gasps guiding. "Fuck, you're big," Finn groaned.
Paul thrust gently at first, building rhythm. Sensations overwhelmed: the grip, the sounds, Finn's body responding. He angled, hitting prostate, Finn crying out. "There! Harder."
Paul obliged, pounding deeper, hand stroking Finn in sync. Sweat slicked them, bodies slapping. Finn came first, clenching, pulling Paul's orgasm. He filled the condom, collapsing atop Finn.
They lay tangled, breathing heavy. "Sensational," Finn murmured. "You?"
"Amazing." Paul kissed his neck.
Talk resumed post-cleanup, cuddled. Finn funny, sharing bad hookup stories. Paul opened more about his past. Bonds deepened, confusion fading.
...To be continued
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