Soccer Stunts
That evening dragged on forever after my friends finally bailed. Mia left with a wink and a “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Noah slapped me on the back and muttered “good luck not jumping him,” and Leo just grinned like he already knew how the night would end. Jessy stuck around longer than necessary, lounging on my bed like he lived there—which he did—until I grabbed my soccer bag and told him I was heading to practice to clear my head.
“Practice?” he’d said, that lazy grin back in full force. “Perfect. I’ll see you on the field, baby.”
I’d flipped him off and left without another word. Now the floodlights buzzed overhead, turning the pitch into a glowing rectangle of grass and sweat. Night intramural scrimmage. Our usual Tuesday thing. I’d shown up early, changed into my shorts and jersey in the locker room, hoping the cool air and the run would burn off the leftover heat from Jessy’s arm around me earlier. Fat chance. My skin still remembered every circle his thumb had traced on my collarbone.
I was stretching near the sideline when he jogged out, cleats clicking on the turf. Black shorts that hugged his thighs like they’d been tailored by the devil himself, white practice jersey already clinging to his chest from the walk over. His hair was damp at the temples, and that stupid confident stride made my stomach tighten before I could stop it.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Jessy called, voice carrying across the grass. He dropped his bag next to mine and bumped my shoulder with his on purpose as he bent to tie a cleat. “Thought you were avoiding me after I had you all cozy in front of your crew.”
I straightened, rolling my shoulders. “Avoiding you would mean I care. I’m here to play soccer, not whatever game you’re running.”
He straightened too, close enough that I caught the faint cedar scent mixed with fresh sweat. “Same team tonight. Try to keep up, Clark. Wouldn’t want you getting all frustrated when I steal the ball from under you.”
Coach blew the whistle before I could answer, splitting us into scrimmage sides for warm-up drills. We ended up on opposite teams for the main play—thank fuck. The ball rolled out and the game kicked off fast. I took the midfield, legs already burning from the first sprint. Jessy played striker on the other side, all long strides and cocky flicks.
First real clash came ten minutes in. I dribbled up the wing, eyes on the goal, when he came in from the side. Shoulder to shoulder, his body slamming into mine with just enough force to be legal but way too intentional. His thigh grazed mine—hot, bare skin sliding together as we fought for the ball. Muscle against muscle, sweat already slick between us.
“Easy there,” he muttered, breath warm against my ear as he shoulder-checked me again. “Wouldn’t want to bruise that pretty ass.”
I shoved back, hip bumping his hard enough to send the ball loose between us. “Keep your hands to yourself, Delgado.”
He laughed, low and filthy, and stole the ball anyway, tapping it away with the inside of his foot. As he spun past, his hand came down quick—palm flat, right on my ass, a solid pat that lingered half a second too long. “Nice try, though. Keep that fire. Looks good on you.”
My skin burned where he’d touched me. I chased after him, lungs already working harder than they should. The next ten minutes were a blur of grass and heavy breathing. Every time I got near the ball, Jessy was there. He’d slide in from behind, chest pressing to my back for a split second, thigh slipping between mine as we both lunged. The graze of his leg—firm, warm, the fine hair tickling—sent a jolt straight up my spine. I’d twist away and he’d be right there again, grinning like he knew exactly what it was doing to me.
Halfway through, we tangled for a header. Ball in the air. I jumped. So did he. Our bodies collided mid-air, chests slamming, his arm wrapping around my waist on the way down like he was spotting me instead of competing. We hit the turf together, him half on top, hips aligned for one dangerous heartbeat. His thigh pressed between mine, right against my crotch, and I felt the hard line of him through his shorts—thick, warm, already half-hard from the run.
“Fuck,” I grunted, shoving at his shoulder. My voice came out rougher than I meant.
Jessy didn’t move right away. He hovered there, face inches from mine, sweat dripping from his temple onto my jersey. “You’re breathing heavy, Brady. All that running or just me?”
“Get off,” I snapped, but my hands stayed on his chest a second longer than necessary. The muscle under my palms was solid, slick, rising and falling fast.
He pushed up slow, hand brushing down my side on the way. Fingers grazed the hem of my shorts, thumb dipping just under the fabric at my hip. “Make me.”
Coach yelled something about keeping it clean. Jessy backed off with a wink, jogging backward a few steps so I had to watch the way his shorts rode up his thighs. The game rolled on. I scored once, pure luck after a deflection, and he was on me immediately—tackling me in a celebratory hug that turned into a full-body press. Arms around my waist, chest to chest, his mouth right by my ear.
“Good one,” he murmured, voice all warm gravel. His hand slid lower, patting my ass again, this time with a squeeze that made my cock twitch against the front of my shorts. “Proud of you, baby. Look at you getting all competitive. Makes me want to pin you down right here.”
I shoved him off harder this time, face hot. “Save the sweet talk for someone who gives a shit.”
But my body was betraying me. Every bump, every graze of his thigh against mine, every lingering pat on my ass had me half-hard under my shorts by the final whistle. Sweat soaked my jersey. My legs felt loose in the best-worst way. Jessy jogged over as we cooled down, water bottle in hand, and bumped my hip with his again.
“You’re flushed,” he said, tilting his head. “All that physical contact getting to you? Or is it the way I keep finding excuses to touch you?”
I grabbed my own bottle and chugged, avoiding his eyes. “It’s called soccer, Jessy. People bump. It’s not a fucking seduction.”
He stepped closer anyway, voice dropping so only I could hear. “Could’ve fooled me. The way your thigh kept sliding against mine every time we went for the ball? Felt pretty intentional on your end too.” His hand came up, casual as hell, and patted my ass one last time—fingers spreading just enough to cup the curve through the thin fabric. “Nice form tonight. Keep it up and I might let you score off me later. In the room.”
I spun on him, heart hammering. My cock was fully interested now, pressing against the front of my shorts in a way that made me want to die. “You’re impossible. I came out here to get away from your bullshit and you turn practice into foreplay.”
Jessy just grinned, wiping sweat off his brow with the hem of his jersey. It rode up, flashing those abs I hated noticing. “Foreplay? Nah. This is just me reminding you how good it feels when I’m all over you. Legally. On the field. With witnesses.” He leaned in, breath still coming fast. “Imagine what I could do when there’s no referee.”
I stepped back, frustrated heat crawling up my neck. My body was buzzing—skin too tight, shorts too thin, every graze and pat and thigh brush replaying in my head like a highlight reel I didn’t ask for. I was hard, pissed off, and so turned on it made my teeth ache.
“Whatever,” I muttered, grabbing my bag. “I’m done. You win this round. Happy?”
Jessy’s laugh followed me toward the locker room, low and satisfied. “Not even close, Brady. But we’re getting there.”
I didn’t look back. Couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d see that look on his face… the one that said he knew exactly how angry and horny he made me.
I shoved through the locker room door after practice, bag slung over my shoulder, still buzzing from the field. My thighs burned from every intentional bump Jessy had thrown my way, my ass still warm where his hand had lingered too long with those cocky little pats. I was half-hard in my shorts and pissed about it. All I wanted was a quick rinse, my bed, and maybe to forget how good his thigh had felt sliding between mine every time we fought for the ball.
The showers were mostly empty this late. One stall running. Of course it was his.
Jessy stood under the spray, completely naked, back to the tile wall like he owned the place. Water poured over him in heavy sheets, tracing every cut line of muscle down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, straight to that sharp V that disappeared between his legs. His cock hung thick and heavy between his thighs, water beading along the shaft, the head flushed a deep pink from the heat. He wasn’t even pretending to wash efficiently. One hand ran slow through his wet hair, the other soaping his chest in lazy circles, thumb brushing over a nipple like he had all night to put on a show. Steam curled around his bronzed skin, making him look carved out of something warm and dangerous.
I froze in the doorway for half a second too long.
He cracked one eye open and that slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Well, well. Look who decided to join the party. Come to finish what we started on the field, baby?”
I didn’t answer. Just yanked my jersey off, tossed it on the bench, and stepped into the stall across from him. The water hit cold at first, then scalding. I turned my back to him, cranking the knob higher, trying to focus on the burn instead of the way my cock was already twitching at the sound of his low chuckle.
“Silent treatment tonight?” Jessy called over the spray. “Cute. Especially after you spent the whole scrimmage grinding against me every chance you got. Your thigh kept sliding right between mine like it belonged there. Felt nice, didn’t it?”
I grabbed the soap and scrubbed my chest harder than necessary. “It’s soccer, Jessy. People touch. Get over yourself.”
He laughed, rich and easy, the sound bouncing off the tiles. I heard him move—water pattern shifting—and risked a glance. He’d turned to face me now, full-frontal, water streaming down his body like it was personally in love with him. His cock had thickened a little in the heat, hanging heavier, the dark trimmed patch of hair at the base glistening. He soaped his stomach slow, hand dipping lower, fingers brushing just above that thick shaft like he knew exactly where my eyes wanted to go.
“Yeah? That’s why you’re already half-hard over there?” His voice dropped, conversational but filthy. “I saw the way you looked at me every time I patted that perfect ass. You liked it. Liked feeling me all over you. All that sweat and skin and me whispering in your ear how good you looked competing for once.”
I turned away again, jaw tight, but the image was burned in—his hand on my ass, fingers spreading, the warm press of his thigh. My cock filled out the rest of the way, heavy and obvious against my stomach now. I hated it. Hated how my body reacted like it had a mind of its own every time he opened his mouth.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I muttered, voice rough. “I’m just trying to wash the game off me. Not whatever fantasy you’re jerking off to in your head.”
Jessy stepped out of his stall, water still running, and crossed the short space between us like it was nothing. Naked. Dripping. Close enough that the steam felt thicker, warmer. He leaned one shoulder against the tile wall of my stall, arms crossed loose over his chest so his biceps flexed and water ran in rivulets down the grooves of his abs.
“Fantasy?” He tilted his head, eyes dragging down my body slow and open. “Nah. This is real. You’re standing there rock hard because you can’t stop thinking about how my thigh felt between yours. How my hand felt on your ass. How good it would feel if I did it again right now.” His gaze dropped pointedly to my cock, which gave a traitorous twitch under the spray. “Look at you. Leaking already and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
I gripped the soap tighter, refusing to cover myself. “Fuck off. You’re the one flaunting your dick like it’s a trophy. Go jerk off somewhere else if you’re that desperate.”
He didn’t move. Just watched me with that dark, amused heat, water dripping from his lashes. “Desperate? Baby, I’m just enjoying the view. You’re the one who can’t stop staring. I saw you in the doorway. Eyes all over me. My chest. My abs. Lower.” He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand down his stomach, slow, fingers trailing through the wet hair at the base of his cock. It thickened more under his touch, lifting slightly. “You hate how much you like it. Hate how hard you get just looking at me. But you’re still looking.”
My face burned. My cock was fully hard now, aching, the head shiny with water and a bead of pre-cum that mixed with the spray. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to drag him closer. Both at once. “You’re delusional,” I said, but my voice cracked on the word. “I’m not— I don’t—”
Jessy stepped fully into my stall. The water hit us both now, steam wrapping around us like a secret. He was close enough that his chest brushed mine when he breathed, his cock heavy and warm against my thigh for one electric second before he shifted. His hand came up, not touching me, just hovering near my hip like he was daring me to close the gap.
“Yeah?” he murmured, voice low and rough and way too intimate. “Then stop looking at my mouth like you want me to kiss you stupid right here under the water. Stop getting harder every time I talk. You’re so fucking pretty when you’re like this, Brady. All frustrated and turned on and pretending you hate me for it.”
I swallowed hard. My heart slammed against my ribs. The heat between us felt thicker than the steam, his body radiating warmth, every drop of water on his skin catching the light like it was showing off for me. I hated how romantic it felt—how the water made his lashes stick together, how his voice went soft and filthy at the same time, how badly I wanted to lean in and taste the water on his collarbone.
“Shut up,” I managed, but it came out breathy. My cock throbbed visibly between us, begging for attention I refused to give.
Jessy noticed. Of course he did. His eyes flicked down, then back up, and he winked—slow, cocky, full of promise.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, voice like warm honey over gravel. “Keep pretending, baby. Makes it so much hotter when you finally stop lying to yourself.”
He stayed right there, naked and dripping and way too close, letting the water run over both of us while I stood frozen, hard and hating how much I wanted him to touch me.
The door to the room clicked shut behind me and I dropped my gym bag on the floor like it had personally offended me. My skin was still damp from the shower, hair sticking to my neck, and my shorts felt too tight after everything that had happened under the spray. I could still see Jessy standing there naked, water running down every line of him, that cocky wink burning behind my eyes. I hated how my body had reacted. Hated how hard I’d stayed the whole walk back.
I yanked my shirt off and tossed it toward my bed, pacing once across the small space before dropping onto the edge of my mattress. The room smelled like the cedar-vanilla soap he always used, and that just pissed me off more. I grabbed my phone, scrolled without seeing anything, and tried to pretend the ache in my groin wasn’t still there.
The door opened again.
Jessy stepped in, towel slung low around his hips, hair still wet and messy from the shower. His chest gleamed under the room light, water droplets sliding down the center of his abs like they had nowhere better to go. He kicked the door closed with his heel and leaned against it, arms crossed, that slow grin already spreading across his face.
“Back already?” he said, voice low and amused. “Could’ve sworn you were trying to scrub me off you in there. Took you long enough. Or were you just standing under the water thinking about how long you stared at my dick?”
I didn’t look up right away. My jaw tightened. “I wasn’t staring.”
He pushed off the door and crossed the room, stopping right in front of me. The towel rode low on his hips, the V of muscle framing the top of it like an invitation. “Bullshit. I saw you. Eyes all over me. Chest, abs, lower. You were practically eye-fucking me while pretending to wash your own hair. Cute, Brady. Real subtle.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I stood up fast, putting us chest to chest, close enough that I could feel the warmth still radiating off his skin. My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Yeah? Fine. I was looking. Happy now? I looked because you’re so fucking hot it’s actually ridiculous. That body, that cock hanging there like it knows exactly what it does to people. I hated every second of it, but I looked. I couldn’t stop. Is that what you wanted to hear? That you make me hard just standing there dripping wet?”
Jessy’s eyes darkened, but the grin stayed, sharper now. “Keep going. I like this version of you. Angry and honest.”
I stepped closer, voice dropping but still edged with fury. “You want honesty? I looked because every inch of you is built like it was made to fuck with my head. Those shoulders. That chest I wanted to run my hands over. That thick dick swinging between your legs, already half-hard just because you knew I was watching. It pissed me off. It turned me on. And now you’re standing here in my room like you own the place, towel barely hanging on, daring me to keep pretending I don’t see it.”
He didn’t move. Just watched me, breath steady, the towel the only thing left between us.
I laughed once, short and bitter. “You want me to watch? Then do it properly. Strip. Right now. Take the towel off and let me look all I want. No games. No teasing. Just you, naked, in front of me. Since you’re so fucking proud of it.”
Jessy’s eyebrows lifted, but the heat in his eyes flared hotter. “You sure about that, baby? Once I start, I’m not stopping until you’ve seen every inch.”
I held his gaze, heart hammering so hard I felt it in my throat. “Do it. Or are you all talk?”
He reached for the knot in the towel, slow, deliberate. His fingers tugged it loose. The fabric slid down his hips and pooled at his feet.
There he was. Fully naked. Standing two feet away in the middle of our room like it was the most natural thing in the world. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, thicker now, the head flushed and already glistening at the tip. Water from the shower still clung to the dark trimmed hair at the base, a single drop sliding down the veined shaft before it fell. His balls hung full and tight, swaying slightly as he shifted his weight. The muscles in his thighs flexed, powerful and defined, leading up to those sharp hips and the deep cuts of his abs that tightened with every breath.
I couldn’t look away.
Jessy ran a hand down his own chest, slow, fingers tracing the water trails over his pecs, brushing over a nipple that tightened under his touch. “This what you wanted?” His voice was rough, low, like gravel wrapped in silk. “Me naked for you. No towel. No hiding. Look at it, Brady. Look how hard I’m getting just from you staring like that.”
His cock twitched visibly, lifting, thickening right in front of me. The head swelled, a fresh bead of pre-cum forming at the slit and sliding down the underside. I felt my own dick throb hard in my shorts, pressing painfully against the fabric, leaking in response.
Jessy took one step closer. “See that? That’s what you do to me. You snap at me, tell me I’m hot, and my cock starts dripping for you.” He wrapped his hand loosely around the base, not stroking, just holding it up so I could see every thick inch. “You hate how much you want this. I can see it in your eyes. But you’re still looking. Still breathing fast. Still hard enough that I can see the wet spot forming in your shorts.”
I swallowed, throat dry. My hands itched to touch him. My mouth felt too full of words I didn’t want to say. Anger and want twisted together so tight I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.
Jessy let go of himself and ran both hands up his abs, over his chest, then back down, slow and sensual, like he was putting on the filthiest show of my life. His cock bobbed with the movement, heavy and flushed, the veins standing out. “Keep watching, baby. This is all for you. Every inch. Every drop. You told me to strip. I did. Now tell me what you see. Tell me how much you hate how badly you want to drop to your knees and taste it.”
The room felt ten degrees hotter. My pulse roared in my ears. Jessy stood there completely exposed, naked and hard and unashamed, eyes locked on mine like he was daring me to keep pretending this wasn’t exactly what I’d asked for.
Chapter 14 – Too Close For Comfort
Jessy stood there completely naked, cock thick and heavy between his legs, the head already shiny with a fresh bead of pre-cum that caught the light. I was stunned silent for a second, eyes locked on him like I couldn’t look anywhere else. My own cock twitched hard in my shorts, filling out fast, half-hard and pressing against the fabric before I could stop it. The room felt smaller, hotter, just the two of us and the low hum of the radiator.
Jessy’s grin turned filthy. He wrapped a loose hand around the base of his dick and gave it one slow stroke, eyes never leaving mine. “Watch all you want, Brady. Touch if you want. It’s right here for you. Feel how hard you make me.”
I swallowed, throat dry, but I didn’t step back. Couldn’t. My pulse was pounding in my ears. “Bored,” I said, voice rough but steady. “That all you got? Standing there naked like some show-off? If you want me to break, you’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than just flash your dick.”
His eyes lit up, dark and hungry. “Challenge accepted, baby.”
He closed the distance in one step, crowding me right against the edge of my bed. His bare chest brushed mine, warm and still damp from the shower. I didn’t move. He reached down, caught my wrist, and pulled my hand up to his chest. His skin was hot under my palm, smooth over hard muscle. He pressed my fingers flat against his pec, right over his nipple.
“Feel that?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “That’s what you do to me. Touch me. Go on. I know you want to.”
My hand stayed there, fingers spreading without me telling them to. His nipple tightened under my touch. I could feel his heart hammering. He shifted closer, thighs brushing mine, and then his cock—thick, heavy, burning hot—rubbed right along the front of my thigh. Slow. Deliberate. The slick head left a wet trail across my shorts as he rocked his hips once, twice, grinding the whole length against me.
“Fuck, Brady,” he breathed against my ear. “Feel how hard I am for you? That’s all you. You standing here acting like you don’t want it, but your hand’s still on me. Your cock’s pushing against my leg like it’s begging.”
I forced a laugh, even though my voice cracked. “Still bored. You’re gonna have to try harder if you think this is gonna break me.” But my hand slid down his chest anyway, palm dragging over the ridges of his abs, feeling every tight muscle jump under my touch. His cock kept rubbing my thigh, slow and filthy, the veined shaft sliding hot and slick against the thin fabric of my shorts. Pre-cum soaked through, making everything slippery. My own dick was fully hard now, throbbing painfully, leaking into my boxers.
Jessy groaned low, hips rolling again, cock dragging up and down my thigh like he was fucking it. “Liar. You’re breathing so fucking fast. I can feel your heart racing. Bet your shorts are soaked already. Just admit it feels good having my dick on you.”
“Doesn’t feel like anything,” I muttered, but my hand kept moving, sliding lower, fingertips brushing the dark trail of hair at the base of his cock. My thighs clenched around the thick heat rubbing between them. I was so turned on it hurt, cock aching, balls tight, every nerve screaming to grab him. But I kept my voice flat. “Keep grinding if it makes you feel better. I’m still not interested.”
He laughed, dark and breathless, and pressed in harder. His cock slid right between my legs now, trapped against my inner thigh, the head nudging the underside of my balls through the fabric. “Not interested? Then why’s your hand still on me? Why are you letting me fuck your thigh like this? You’re so hard I can see the wet spot spreading. Stop pretending, baby. You want this cock.”
I bit back a groan. My fingers curled around the side of his hip, pulling him closer even as I said, “Still bored. You talk a big game but—”
That was it. Something snapped. I yanked him against me, arms wrapping tight around his waist, pulling his naked body flush to mine. My mouth found his shoulder, kissing the warm, damp skin there, open-mouthed and hungry. “Fuck,” I whispered against him, hands roaming up his back, feeling every muscle flex. I kissed lower, teeth grazing his collarbone, tongue tasting the salt on his skin. My hips jerked forward without permission, grinding my aching cock against his thigh.
Jessy groaned, hands sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me even tighter. “That’s it. There you are.”
My hand moved on its own, sliding between us, wrapping around his hard cock. It was so thick, so hot, pulsing in my fist. I stroked him once, slow and firm, thumb swiping over the slick head, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft.
For one perfect second it felt right. His breath hitched against my neck, his cock throbbed in my hand, and I wanted it. Wanted all of it.
Then reality slammed back in.
I shoved him hard, both hands on his chest, sending him stumbling back a step. My heart was hammering. My cock was still painfully hard, leaking like crazy. I wiped my hand on my shorts like it burned.
“I’m still not interested,” I said, voice shaky but sharp. “That was nothing. You got me for half a second and that’s it. Don’t get cocky.”
Jessy stood there naked, cock rock-hard and glistening from my hand, chest rising fast. His eyes were dark, lips parted, that same wicked grin slowly coming back.
But I turned away before he could say anything, grabbing my shirt off the bed and yanking it on like armor.
“Whatever you think just happened,” I added, not looking at him, “it didn’t. I’m still not breaking. Not for you.”
The room felt way too quiet after that. My body was still buzzing, still aching, still remembering exactly how good his cock had felt in my hand. And Jessy just stood there, watching me, like he knew the truth even if I wouldn’t say it out loud.
Jessy just stood there naked, cock still shiny and hard from where I’d stroked him, that lazy, knowing smile spreading across his face like he’d won the lottery.
“Damn,” he said, voice low and amused. “Half a second, huh? That’s cute. You’re really sticking to that story.”
He didn’t push it. Instead he walked over to his bed, dropped down on the edge, and leaned back against the headboard like he had all night. His legs spread wide, one hand resting on his thigh, the other loosely wrapping around his still-hard cock. He gave it one slow stroke, eyes locked on me the whole time.
“Go ahead and get comfortable, Brady,” he said, voice all casual like we were chatting about the weather. “I’m just gonna take care of this since you left me hanging.”
I should’ve looked away. Turned my back. Put my headphones in. Anything. But I didn’t. I stayed standing there in my shirt and shorts, watching as he started stroking himself properly—long, lazy pulls from base to tip, thumb swiping over the slick head every time. His cock looked even thicker in his fist, veins standing out, the head flushed dark and shiny with pre-cum.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded but still watching me. “You know what would feel better? Your hand back on me. Or that mouth. Bet you’d look real pretty with my dick between your lips while you glare up at me.”
My mouth went dry. My own cock was throbbing again, pressing hard against my shorts, a fresh wet spot forming. I hated how hot he looked—spread out on his bed, muscles flexing every time he stroked, abs tightening, thighs tense. The wet sound of his hand moving filled the quiet room.
“You’re such a perv,” I muttered, but my voice came out rough.
Jessy grinned, stroking a little faster. “Maybe. But you’re still watching. Eyes right on my cock. You like seeing me jerk off thinking about you? Like knowing I’m this hard because of how you grabbed me earlier?”
He twisted his wrist on the upstroke, letting out a low groan that went straight to my dick. Pre-cum leaked steadily now, making everything slick and shiny. His balls drew up tight as he spread his legs wider, giving me the full view.
“Shit, Brady… keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna last.”
I couldn’t move. My heart was pounding. I was so turned on it was embarrassing—cock aching, balls heavy, every stroke of his hand making me imagine it was mine. Or better—his hand on me.
Jessy’s breathing got heavier. His hips started rocking up into his fist, fucking his own hand while he watched me. “You’re so fucking stubborn. Standing there pretending you don’t want this. But I bet your shorts are soaked. Bet you’re dying to touch yourself right now.”
He stroked faster, the wet sounds louder, his free hand gripping the sheet. His chest rose and fell quick, nipples tight, that gorgeous body all tense and glistening.
“Fuck… Brady…” he groaned, eyes locked on mine. “Gonna come thinking about your hand on my cock. About you finally admitting how bad you want it.”
His strokes turned short and fast. His abs clenched hard. Then he let out a deep, rough groan and came—thick ropes of cum shooting across his stomach and chest, some even hitting his chin. He kept stroking through it, milking every drop, hips jerking, moaning my name under his breath like it tasted good.
I stood there frozen, dick throbbing so bad it hurt. My mouth was dry. My face felt like it was on fire. I hated how hot it was. Hated how much I wanted to crawl over there and lick the mess off his abs.
Jessy finally slumped back, breathing hard, a satisfied smirk on his face. “See? That’s what you do to me.” He wiped his hand on the sheet and stretched like nothing happened. “Night, baby. Sweet dreams.”
I didn’t answer. Just turned off the light, stripped down to my boxers, and climbed into my own bed. The room went dark, but I couldn’t shut my eyes. Every time I tried to sleep, I saw him—naked, stroking that thick cock, groaning my name while he came all over himself. My dick stayed hard for hours. I tossed and turned, sheets tangled around my legs, trying to ignore how badly I wanted to touch myself. How badly I wanted it to be his hand instead.
Eventually I gave up pretending I was going to sleep anytime soon.
The clock said it was after two. Jessy was out cold on his bed, completely naked, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach. Moonlight came through the blinds just enough to light him up—broad chest rising and falling slow, abs relaxed, that thick cock soft but still impressive against his thigh. His legs were slightly spread, balls heavy, everything on full display like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I stayed perfectly still on my back, heart hammering. I told myself I was just looking. Just making sure he was actually asleep. But my hand had already slipped under the waistband of my boxers without me really deciding to do it.
My cock was still rock hard, slick at the tip from hours of being worked up. I wrapped my fingers around it slow, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make any noise. The first stroke felt so good I almost groaned out loud. I kept my eyes on Jessy the whole time—watching the way his chest moved, the faint trail of cum still drying on his stomach from earlier, the way his cock rested heavy against his leg.
I stroked faster, thumb rubbing over the head, spreading my own pre-cum down the shaft. Heat built low in my gut, fast and sharp. My thighs tensed. I imagined his hand instead of mine. Imagined him waking up and catching me. Imagined him smirking and telling me to keep going.
Fuck. I was losing it.
I realized right then, hand wrapped tight around my leaking cock, eyes glued to his naked body, that Jessy was actually getting to me. He was winning. Slowly. Every tease, every touch, every filthy word was chipping away at me, and I hated how much I liked it.
But I wasn’t going to admit it. Not out loud. Not to him.
I stroked faster, breath coming short and quiet, chasing that edge while I stared at him. My balls drew up tight. My hips jerked up into my fist. Just as I was about to tip over, I squeezed the base hard, forcing myself to stop.
No. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. Not even in my own head while he was asleep.
I pulled my hand out of my shorts, wiped it on the sheet, and rolled onto my side, back to him.
“I’m not losing,” I whispered to the dark room, so quiet I barely heard it myself. “You’re not winning, Jessy. I’m not letting you break me.”
But even as I said it, my cock was still throbbing, my body still buzzing, and I knew deep down I was lying to myself.
Jessy shifted a little in his sleep, letting out a soft sigh, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.
This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 15 – Brady’s Plan
The floodlights buzzed over the field like they were personally invested in the drama. It was a Thursday night intramural match against the business majors—our biggest rivals this semester—and the stands were packed with half the campus. Cheers, trash talk, and the occasional wolf whistle rolled across the grass. I was already sweating in my jersey, cleats digging into the turf, trying to focus on the game instead of the fact that Jessy and I were playing on the same team for once.
Jessy jogged up beside me during warm-ups, shoulder bumping mine on purpose. “Ready to look good out there, baby? Try not to stare at my ass too much when I run past you.”
“Focus on the ball, not my ass,” I shot back, but my stomach did that stupid flip anyway.
The whistle blew and the game kicked off hard.
It was a war from the first minute. The other team came out aggressive, pressing high, and we answered with everything we had. Jessy was everywhere—fast, cocky, reading the field like it owed him money. I played midfield, breaking up plays and feeding him the ball whenever I could. We were the best two on the pitch and everyone knew it. The crowd started chanting our names every time we linked up.
Halfway through the first half, Jessy made a run down the right wing. I saw the opening before he did and threaded a perfect pass through two defenders. He took it in stride, cut inside, and smashed a shot toward the far post. The keeper got a hand to it, but it was close. The crowd roared. Jessy spun around and pointed straight at me, grinning like an idiot.
“That’s my boy!” he yelled across the field.
I flipped him off, but I was smiling too.
The score stayed 0-0 deep into the second half. Both teams were gassed, legs burning, but the tension kept climbing. The business majors scored first—a lucky deflection off a corner that left our keeper flat-footed. 1-0 to them. The stands went wild on their side.
Jessy clapped his hands loud. “We got this. Brady—stay with me. We’re ending this shit.”
We pushed harder. I won the ball back in midfield with a clean tackle, spun past one guy, and looked up. Jessy was making a run, calling for it. I hit him with a long ball over the top. He brought it down with his chest like it was nothing, took one touch, and fired. The keeper parried it, but the rebound fell right to me.
I didn’t think. I just swung my foot and buried it low into the corner. 1-1.
The crowd exploded. Jessy ran straight at me, jumped on my back, and nearly knocked me over. “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s fucking go!”
We were tied with ten minutes left. The game turned into a dogfight—sliding tackles, shoulder charges, bodies crashing together every time the ball was near. Sweat poured down my back. My legs felt like lead, but the adrenaline kept me going.
With three minutes on the clock, Jessy stole the ball near midfield. He beat one defender, then another, and looked up. I was already surging forward on the overlap. He played it perfectly—weighted pass right into my path. I took it on the run, cut inside, and saw Jessy making a late run into the box.
One defender slid in. I nutmegged him clean, then chipped the ball over the last guy’s head. Jessy was there. He rose up and headed it first time—powerful, precise—right into the top corner.
The net bulged. The whistle blew for the goal. 2-1 to us.
The stands lost their minds.
Jessy spun toward me, eyes wild with joy, and before I could even process it, he grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me. Right there on the field. Full on the mouth. Hard, hot, and way too public. His lips were salty with sweat, his body pressed flush against mine for one electric second, the roar of the crowd fading into background noise.
I froze.
Then reality hit like a truck.
I shoved him back hard, chest heaving, face burning hotter than it had all game. “What the fuck, Jessy?!”
He was still grinning, breathing hard, eyes bright with adrenaline and something a lot more dangerous. The crowd was going absolutely insane now—cheers, whistles, phones probably recording every second. Someone yelled “Get a room!” and half the field laughed.
Jessy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still looking way too pleased with himself. “We just won, baby. Had to celebrate properly.”
I glared at him, heart slamming against my ribs, lips still tingling from the kiss. My teammates were slapping us both on the back, laughing, but all I could feel was the heat crawling up my neck and the way my stomach twisted with a mix of fury and something I refused to name.
“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered, turning away before he could see how badly that one stupid kiss had rattled me.
Jessy just laughed behind me, loud and happy. “You loved it.”
I didn’t answer. Because the worst part was—I kind of had. And that scared the hell out of me more than losing the game ever could.
The locker room was a madhouse.
Guys were yelling, slapping backs, blasting music from someone’s phone. The win felt electric, but the kiss had turned everything into pure chaos. I sat on the bench in front of my locker, towel around my neck, trying to focus on unlacing my cleats like nothing had happened. Like my lips weren’t still buzzing and my face wasn’t on fire.
It wasn’t working.
“Yo, Brady!” Evan called from across the room, grinning like an idiot. “That victory kiss was straight fire, man. You two been practicing that shit in secret?”
Marco laughed so hard he nearly dropped his water bottle. “For real. I thought you two hated each other. Now you’re making out on the field like it’s the championship game? Campus is gonna lose its mind.”
I kept my head down, yanking harder at the laces. “It was nothing. Jessy’s an idiot who gets carried away when we win. That’s it.”
Ty leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, smirking. “Nothing? Bro, he grabbed your face with both hands. That wasn’t a bro kiss. That was full-on ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks’ energy.”
“Exactly,” Evan added, peeling off his jersey. “And you didn’t even push him away right away. You just stood there for a second like you were into it.”
“I was shocked!” I snapped, finally looking up. My voice came out sharper than I meant. “He caught me off guard. One second we’re celebrating a goal, the next his tongue is halfway down my throat in front of the entire school. It was a dick move.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Tongue? Damn, it looked pretty deep from the sidelines.”
“It wasn’t—” I stopped, face burning hotter. “There’s nothing between me and Jessy. We’re roommates. We fight all the time. That’s it. He was just being Jessy—dramatic as fuck.”
The guys exchanged looks and started laughing again.
“Sure, man,” Ty said, nodding slowly. “Keep telling yourself that. We all saw how you looked at him after. Kinda dazed. Kinda pissed. Kinda like you wanted round two.”
“I did not want round two,” I growled, standing up so fast my cleats scraped the floor. “I wanted to punch him. Still do. There is zero—nothing—between us. He’s just a cocky asshole who thinks he can do whatever he wants.”
Evan wiped sweat off his face, still grinning. “Whatever you say, Brady. But the whole campus is already texting about it. Someone posted the clip. It’s everywhere. People are calling you two the new campus power couple.”
I groaned and slammed my locker shut. “Power couple? Are you kidding me? We’re not a couple. We’re not anything. He kissed me to mess with me, like he always does. End of story.”
Marco clapped me on the shoulder, way too amused. “Keep saying that, bro. Maybe if you repeat it enough times you’ll believe it. But the way he looked at you after? That wasn’t messing around. That was ‘I finally got what I wanted’ vibes.”
I shrugged his hand off, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door before I said something stupid. “You guys are reading way too much into one dumb celebration. I’m telling you—there’s nothing going on. Nothing.”
As I pushed through the door, I heard Evan call after me, laughing, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man!”
The hallway outside wasn’t any better.
A group of girls from the art department were huddled by the water fountain, phones out, giggling.
“Oh my god, did you see the kiss?” one of them said loud enough for me to hear. “Brady looked so shocked but kinda into it.”
“Jessy’s so hot when he goes for it like that,” another added. “They’re totally fucking. No way that was just a celebration.”
I kept walking, jaw clenched, pretending I couldn’t hear them. My face felt like it was on fire again.
Outside the building it got worse. People were staring, whispering, some openly pointing. A couple of guys from the opposing team walked past and one of them yelled, “Nice make-out session, Clark! You two gonna start an OnlyFans now?”
I flipped them off without slowing down, but my stomach was twisting. Furious didn’t even cover it. I was pissed at Jessy for pulling that shit in front of everyone, pissed at the entire campus for turning it into the event of the year, and pissed at myself for the way my lips still remembered exactly how his mouth had felt—hot, sweaty, and way too sure.
By the time I got back to the dorm, my phone was blowing up. Texts from Noah: “Bro what the hell was that kiss?? Call me.” Mia sent a string of fire emojis and “I KNEW IT.” Even Leo sent a simple “Damn.”
I tossed my phone on the bed and paced the room, running my hands through my hair. “There’s nothing between us,” I muttered to the empty room, like saying it out loud would make it true. “He’s just an asshole. That’s all. Nothing. Zero. Nada.”
The door opened behind me.
Jessy walked in, still riding the high from the win, jersey slung over his shoulder, hair messy from the game. He looked way too pleased with himself.
I spun on him, fury boiling over. “What the fuck was that, Jessy? You kissed me in front of the entire fucking school! Now everyone thinks we’re together or some shit. They won’t shut up about it.”
Jessy dropped his bag and leaned against the door, arms crossed, that smug grin still firmly in place. “Relax, baby. We won. I got excited. It was a heat-of-the-moment thing.”
“Heat of the moment?” I stepped closer, voice rising. “You grabbed my face and kissed me like we were in a damn rom-com. People are already posting clips. They’re calling us a power couple. My own teammates don’t believe me when I say there’s nothing going on.”
He shrugged, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe because there is something going on. You kissed me back for half a second out there. Don’t lie.”
“I did not—” I stopped, face burning. “I was in shock. That’s all. There is nothing between us, Jessy. Nothing. Stop acting like this is some big romance. You’re just messing with me like always, and now the whole campus is in on it.”
Jessy pushed off the door and walked toward me, slow and easy. “Keep telling yourself that, Brady. But we both know you felt it. And we both know you’re not as mad as you’re pretending to be.”
I glared at him, fists clenched at my sides. “I am mad. I’m furious. And if you ever pull something like that again, I swear to God—”
He just smiled wider, like my anger was the best part of his night. “Can’t wait to see what you do about it.”
I turned away before I did something stupid, like kiss him again just to shut him up. The whispers, the jokes, the stares—they were all still ringing in my head. And the worst part? Deep down, a tiny part of me wasn’t entirely sure I hated the kiss as much as I claimed.
But I’d die before I admitted that to him. Or to anyone else.
The evening air felt sticky as I met up with Noah, Mia, and Leo at the usual spot behind the dorms — a rickety picnic table that had seen better days and way too many bad decisions. I’d barely sat down before Noah slid a can of cheap beer my way and leaned in with that knowing smirk of his.
“Alright, spill,” Noah said, cracking his own can open. “The whole campus is losing its shit over that kiss. You two trending on the group chats. People are placing bets on how long until you’re official.”
I groaned and took a long swig, the cold fizz doing nothing to cool the frustration still burning in my chest. “There’s nothing to spill. Jessy got carried away after the goal. Heat of the moment. That’s it. I told everyone there’s zero between us, but nobody believes me. They’re all acting like we’re secretly banging in the showers or some shit.”
Mia leaned forward on her elbows, dark curls falling over one shoulder, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “Because it looked hot as hell, Brady. He grabbed your face like he’d been dying to do it for months. And you didn’t exactly shove him away immediately. Kinda looked like you melted for a second there.”
“I was shocked!” I protested, face heating up again. “One second we’re celebrating, next thing his mouth is on mine in front of God and everybody. It was embarrassing.”
Leo chuckled, his easy surfer drawl cutting through the tension. “Embarrassing or not, you gotta admit it was bold. Jessy doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s been pushing your buttons all semester, and now he just went nuclear in public. The boy’s playing chess while you’re still trying to figure out checkers.”
I set the can down harder than necessary. “Exactly. He’s messing with me. Turning everything into his little game. The stripping, the teasing, the texts, the field kiss — he thinks he can break me first. Make me admit I want him or some crap. Well, fuck that.”
Noah tilted his head, studying me with that sharp, sarcastic edge he always had. “Here’s the thing, though. You keep saying you hate it. You keep saying there’s nothing there. But you’re sitting here fuming because the whole school thinks you two are a thing. Maybe the only way to beat him at his own game is to match his madness.”
Mia’s grin turned wicked. She tapped her nails on the table. “Noah’s right. Jessy’s all about pushing limits, getting under your skin, making you react. He wants to watch you squirm and eventually give in. So stop playing defense. Go on the offensive. Break him first. Make him the one who loses control. Make him the one who can’t stop thinking about you.”
Leo nodded slowly, taking a sip. “Yeah, man. Flip the script. He’s been the one doing all the teasing, all the stripping, all the dirty talk. Time for you to turn the tables. Get in his head the same way he’s been getting in yours. Match that energy — but smarter. Make him want it so bad he cracks.”
I stared at the beer can, turning it slowly in my hands. Their words sank in, clicking into place like the last piece of a puzzle I hadn’t realized I was solving. Jessy thought he could keep pushing until I broke. Thought he could kiss me on the field, jerk off in front of me, grind on me in the shower, and I’d eventually fold.
What if I stopped folding?
What if I started pushing back — harder?
A slow, dangerous idea formed in my head. I could see it playing out already: walking into the room tonight like nothing happened, but with a plan. Matching his cockiness. Turning his own tactics against him. Making him the one who got flustered, the one who got hard and desperate, the one who had to admit he was affected.
The game just got fun.
I looked up at my friends, a small, wicked smile tugging at my lips for the first time all evening. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve been letting him set all the rules. Time to change that.”
Noah raised his can in a mock toast, grinning. “There he is. Go get him, Brady. Break that cocky bastard first.”
Mia laughed. “And when you do, we want details. The filthy ones.”
Leo just shook his head, amused. “God help Jessy Delgado when you finally decide to play dirty.”
I didn’t answer them. My mind was already racing ahead to tonight — to walking back into that dorm room, to looking Jessy right in the eye, and to starting the kind of game he wouldn’t see coming.
The game just got fun. And for the first time, I was ready to play.
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