Jack looked to the sideline and saw the ref hold up four fingers, signaling four minutes of stoppage time at the end of the second half. He glanced at the scoreboard reading 2-2.
It was two weeks before Thanksgiving, the state playoffs starting next weekend. They were 7-3-1, worth 22 points in the standings, and jockeying to be the 2 seed in the playoff bracket for a state championship.
Jack tiptoed around near midfield, watching his goalkeeper secure a weak shot and coiling his own energy, waiting to strike for a potential game tying goal.
“4 minutes Jacky…”
Jack turned his head and caught a glimpse of Matt’s blonde hair bobbing above his headband, his locks even longer than usual. He has a loose, cocky smile on his face, and was borderline skipping across the midfield line.
Jack shook his head, again reminded of the last time he’d seen, or even spoken, to the tall captain of his rival school. Back in October, it was a one on one challenge that ended in Jack guzzling Matt’s cum down his throat. That day he’d gone home to hang out with his girlfriend panicking that she’d be able to smell, or god forbid taste, Matt on him.
Matt’s team was 6-0-5, one loss less than Jack’s but sitting with 23 points in the standings from being undefeated and heavy on ties. Their team had far less offensive firepower than one with a dominant attacker like Jack, but Matt was like a glove on opposing teams' offenses, shutting them down so well that they often struggled to even get the ball cleanly over midfield.
The keeper launched a kick, attempting to put the ball in play on the other side of the field. Jack cursed under his breath knowing it was a recipe for giving up possession immediately. As expected, Jack watched as his teammate waited for the ball to land, only for Matt to cover ground like a cheetah, step in front, and easily head the ball back towards the same zone that it had just left.
Even now, he couldn’t help but stare at his fiercest rival. Matt seemed to leap three feet off the ground, as if he was floating. He never stopped smiling when he played, always light on his feet and positive. His pale and lanky, 6’4”, 18 year old frame left him with a slim little butt, but Jack knew from feeling and tasting it that it was soft and welcoming, easily able to power his agile playing style.
Jack rolled his eyes. His defense held tough and was able to cut off a stretch pass, moving the ball forward quickly. Jack turned to pick up steam towards the opposing goal, careful to stay onside. The clock was at 92:50 so this was likely their only chance to win the game cleanly and earn the 1 seed in the playoffs over Matt’s club - and to give them their first loss of the season.
Jack took a wide approach moving to the left of the keeper and entering the box a few feet from a defender. He gave a quick but subtle raise of his hand to signal for a pass. His teammate wound his leg and hit a perfect cross over four guys from both teams, cutting the possession from the right side to the left side in an instant. Jack gracefully accepted the pass and immediately juked back in the direction that the ball had come from, catching his defender off guard who had committed to moving towards the sideline.
With a clear lane all the way to the goal, he barreled forward. The opposing keeper, panicking with nothing but air separating them, charged out of the goal to try to cut off Jack’s space to strike the net. Jack used his eyes to bait the keeper to his left, opening an easy lane to his right side in the middle of the goal to strike the ball to the far corner. Not wanting to sail a shot, Jack kicked hard and low, a rocket of a ground ball to the far right side of the net. He began to raise his hands to celebrate just as he saw a long figure slide into his frame of vision to barely get a toe on the ball, redirecting it wide of the net just a foot or two before it crossed the line.
Matt stood up panting, placing his hands on his knees, exhausted at the full on sprint he’d just made to save the goal and back up his keeper.
Jack couldn’t move, standing in place even through the following weak corner kick that dribbled to the opposing team, leading to a final whistle and tie. The whole time, Jack simply stared at Matt, in awe of his athletic ability, raw speed, and beauty.
They lined up to shake hands at the end of the game, Matt’s team finishing the regular season 6-0-6 with 24 points and Jack’s at 7-3-2 with 23 points. ‘Good games’ were repeated over and over until the final man in each team’s line met at midfield.
Matt held his hand out to dab up Jack, pulling him into a tight one armed hug and leaning into his ear.
“That was a hell of a shot Jack,” Matt could be cocky but he wasn’t an asshole, and he always respected equal competition.
“How the fuck did you get there…” Jack was still shell shocked
“I genuinely don’t know…” Matt responded. Jack could feel the smirk in his ear.
“See you in a few weeks for the championship.” Jack was pissed off. Another ‘loss’ essentially to Matt.
He started to pull away but Matt pulled him back in, “wait,” he leaned even closer into his ear, “can we meet up later this weekend? I want to see you before the playoffs starts.”
Jack pulled back and eyed him up. His eyes looked genuine, almost yearning, it felt vulnerable.
“I’m supposed to hang out with my girlfriend all weekend before crazy practice schedules and the playoffs…” Jack weakly offered as an excuse.
“So am I. Let’s just tell the girls we need to train…” Matt smiled.
Jack felt guilty. He knew what Matt wanted to do and he was even suggesting they lie to their girlfriends to make it happen. But he couldn’t resist the competition.
“Okay. Sunday? 5:00am? Should be clear until at least 8…” Jack offered. Matt smiled and nodded before letting go and walking back to celebrate with his team on their 1 seed.
The words echoed in his head as he walked towards his car, bypassing the locker room and the usual post-game chatter with his teammates who seemed thrilled with their 2 seed. He needed space away from the mediocrity, time to think through what the fuck he was doing.
He pulled into his driveway and turned the car off, staring straight ahead and feeling his sweat begin to cake into his skin from the match. His girlfriend would be expecting a call, wanting to hear about the game. His upcoming lie about extra training Sunday morning was already gnawing at him.
He walked inside, the silence amplifying his confused thoughts, needing to wash the game off, scrub the disappointment away. Jack headed straight for the bathroom and turned the shower on, adjusting the handle until the water was scalding hot.
He quickly stripped naked, not bothering to look at himself in the mirror before stepping under the spray, letting heat build on his skin, relaxing his exhausted muscles. All he could think of was the image of Matt, sliding across the turf, saving the day again. And the way his smile beamed like a movie star’s, with his long limbs that matched something else long, hidden away in his shorts. He felt a slow pulse in his groin.
Jack closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiles, letting the water beat down on his face. The pressure, the responsibility, to win. To beat Matt. Finally beat Matt.
His hands, instinctively, moved down his chest. He rubbed his nipples, feeling the slight sensitivity through the hot water. His mind drifted to Matt again. Matt’s pale, lean body. The way he moved on the pitch like a predator hunting down its prey.
He remembered how he tasted, warm and salty. Still, weeks later, the tase was glued to his taste buds.
His hand drifted lower, finding his dick. It was hard, six inches, uncut, and pulsating, responding to his emotions. He began to stroke, the rough skin of his palm against the sensitive head, the water running down his arm.
He thought about Matt’s face in the handshake line, asking him to meet, looking almost desperate for once. The way that Matt’s breath felt on his ear during the hug, the intimacy of their secret juxtaposed against the public setting.
His strokes became faster, more urgent. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing solely on the physical sensation, trying to drown out the mental noise. A noise that was Matt. Matt’s body, Matt’s speed, Matt’s calves, that stupid headband...
He felt his abs squeeze involuntarily, the heat spreading through his body completely unrelated to the water. He grunted softly, leaning his forehead against the wet tiles, his free hand gripping the shower wall. An orgasm hit him hard, a wave of release that finally cleared his head.
He came, hot and messy, into his hand and down his leg as the water continued to fall. The semen got stickier as it mixed with the water, but Jack simply took a moment to regain himself, panting. After what felt like an hour, Jack scrubbed the thick cum from his hands and legs and showered, his mind finally temporarily blank .
He turned off the water, a sudden silence meeting his clear head. Masturbating to thoughts of Matt. There was no way to even try to deny anymore that their rivalry was an obsession, one that defied his straight sexual identity.
He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel, avoiding the mirror. He felt dirty, despite being physically clean. The guilt of the pending conversation with his girlfriend mixed with excitement for Matt in two days.
Jack sank into his bed like it was a puffy cloud, running both hands through his hair. Laying back to sleep, he took one final deep breath, putting off a call and anticipating his next competition Sunday.
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