The bus ride to the tournament was the usual bullshit. Three hours of dudes yelling over each other, passing around bags of gas station chips, coach up front pretending he wasn’t listening to the playlist someone had blasting through the speakers. We were headed across the city for a baseball showcase against a bunch of other college programs. Nothing huge, just enough to get scouted if you played clean and hit hard. I was Marco, starting shortstop, decent speed, solid glove, not the biggest arm on the team but I got the job done. At 6’1”, I wasn't small, but next to most of these guys I felt like the runt sometimes.
We pulled into the hotel around dinner time. Budget place right off the highway, just a few minutes from the campus we were competing at, the kind with thin walls and a pool nobody ever used. Coach handed out key cards and room assignments like it was a military op. I got stuck with Diaz, our backup catcher, who spent the whole check-in texting his girlfriend. She lived nearby, close enough that by the time we finished eating at the attached diner he was already dropping hints about dipping out.
I didn't care. Solo room sounded perfect. After lights out I could stretch out, watch some highlights on my phone, maybe rub one out thinking about the sorority girls from the host campus who'd shown up to the pre-tourney mixer earlier. They'd been all over the place in tiny shorts and crop tops, laughing too loud at our dumb jokes. Yeah, that was the plan.
Diaz didn't even wait for curfew. Around 10, he grabbed his duffel, muttered something about grabbing ice, and vanished. I heard the door click behind him. Good riddance. I locked up, stripped to my boxers, and hit the bed. Queen size, crisp sheets, AC humming just loud enough to drown out the highway noise from the road near campus. I scrolled for a minute, found a video that did the trick, finished quick and quiet into a sock, then passed out hard.
Next thing I knew it was pitch black except for the red glow of the alarm clock. 1:32 AM. Someone was knocking. Not polite taps. Full on pounding like they were trying to wake the whole floor.
I groaned, rolled over, stumbled to the door in my underwear. Peered through the peephole. Connor.
Fuck.
Connor was our ace pitcher. 6 '4 " easy, shoulders that looked like they could bench a truck, arms thick from years of throwing heat. Legs like tree trunks, chest that filled out every team shirt until the fabric looked painted on. The dude lived in the weight room. Protein shakes for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Everyone called him Captain Protein behind his back, but to his face it was just Connor or Connie. He was the guy who carried the vibe on the team, always laughing loudest, always ready with a dumb one liner. Right now he looked wrecked. Hair messed up, eyes red, wearing gray gym shorts and a team tank that was already soaked with sweat across his chest.
I cracked the door. “What the hell, man? It's one thirty.”
“Dude.” He pushed in without waiting for an invite, voice low but urgent. “I cant do this. My roommate is snoring like a goddamn chainsaw. I've been trying to sleep for two hours. I'm losing my fucking mind.”
I shut the door behind him, rubbing my face.
“Where the fuck is Diaz?”, he asked.
“Gone. Probably balls deep at his girl's place. Didn't even tell coach.”
Connor ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “Any chance I can crash here? I just need a few hours of sleep.”
I glanced at the bed. Queen. Big enough for one guy to sprawl, maybe two if they didn't mind getting cozy. I wasn't thrilled, but the dude looked like he was about to cry or punch something. Team shit, right?
“Fine. But don't hog the covers. And if you snore, I'm kicking you to the floor.”
He grinned, tired but relieved. “Deal. Thanks, bro.”
He kicked off his slides, peeled the tank over his head, tossed it on the chair. Jesus. The room light caught every ridge of his abs, the way his pecs flexed when he stretched his arms up. Dude was built like a comic book. Boxers underneath the shorts, loose enough that you could see the heavy swing of his cock when he moved. I tried not to look. Failed a little.
I climbed back in on my side, hugging the wall. Connor dropped in next to me, mattress dipping hard. The whole bed tilted toward him like gravity had a favorite. He smelled like hotel soap and that faint locker room musk that never quite washes out.
He settled on his back, one arm behind his head exposing his hairy armpit, the other resting on his abs. “Thanks again, Marco. Seriously. Coach finds out I didn’t get enough sleep before the match, he's gonna have my ass.”
“Yeah yeah. Just don't make this weird.”
He chuckled low. “Weird how?”
You know. “Two dudes in a bed. Don't get any ideas.”
He snorted. “Relax, princess. I am tired.”
We went quiet. The AC kicked on again, blasting cold air across the room. I pulled the sheet up higher. Connor shifted, trying to get comfortable. Every move made the mattress bounce. His leg brushed mine under the covers. Solid muscle, warm through the thin fabric of his shorts. I scooted closer to the wall. No room.
A minute passed. Maybe five. The bed was too damn small. His shoulder kept bumping my arm when he breathed. Deep, slow breaths, the kind that come from a guy who's used to crashing hard after practice. I could feel the heat rolling off him like a furnace. My back was to his side now, because turning away was the only way to pretend there was space.
Then the mattress sagged again. He rolled toward me a little, probably chasing the dip in the middle. His chest pressed against my shoulder blades. Solid wall of muscle. Warm. His arm flopped over, landing across my waist like I was his girlfriend he was cuddling. Nowhere else for me to go.
I froze.
“Dude” I whispered. “Personal space.”
“Cant help it. Bed sucks.”
His voice was right in my ear now. Hot breath on my neck. Sent a stupid little shiver down my spine. I told myself it was the AC.
I tried to inch forward. Hit the wall. No give. His thighs were right behind mine now, pressing in. Thick, heavy. I could feel the outline of everything through his shorts. The weight of him. The casual way his hips settled against my ass like we were just two guys sharing a bunk after a long day.
I swallowed. This is fine. Just circumstance. Tired dudes. Hotel bed. Nothing more.
But my dick didn't get the memo.
It twitched. Once. Then started filling out slow, traitor that it was. I clenched everything, trying to will it down. No luck. The heat from his crotch against me wasn't helping. Warm. Firm. And yeah, I could feel it starting to thicken too. Not subtle. A slow swell pushing into the cleft of my ass through two layers of thin fabric.
I held my breath.
He went still behind me. Completely still.
I whispered, barely audible. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Voice tight. “Just... trying to chill.”
Another shift. The bed creaked. His hips rocked forward an inch, unintentional. The ridge of him dragged along me. Big. Thick. Pulsing once, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
My face burned. My own dick was fully hard now, trapped against my stomach, leaking a little into my boxers. I hated how good the pressure felt. Hated that part of me wanted to rock back just to see what happened.
Connor exhaled slow against my neck. “Sorry, man. It’s the... adrenaline or some shit. Game tomorrow. Nerves.”
Yeah. Nerves.
We both knew it wasn't nerves.
A car alarm went off somewhere in the parking lot. Sharp, sudden. We both jolted. His arm tightened around my waist on instinct, pulling me back into him harder. His dick throbbed against me, full mast now, trapped right between my cheeks. Mine answered with its own pulse, brushing the inside of his thigh.
Fuck.
Neither of us moved.
The alarm kept wailing. We stayed locked like that, breathing shallow, pretending it was nothing. His hand flexed on my hip. Not grabbing. Just holding. Steadying.
The alarm finally died.
Silence again.
His voice, right in my ear, barely a whisper. “Dude... this is fucked.”
“Yeah.”
But he didn't let go.
And I didn't pull away.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
