Matt tossed and turned in his bed Saturday night, unable to sleep thinking about the 4AM alarm set to wake him for another confrontation with Jack. He still couldn’t believe that he’d saved Jack’s shot Friday, finding a new gear of speed from the motivation to impress his bitter rival and ‘friend’.
He’d made a subconscious decision in the moment of the handshake line as he had one arm around Matt’s strong, muscular frame. The aroma of Jack’s natural smell after 90 minutes on the pitch, the chiseled and defined jawline…’what the fuck was I thinking?’ He thought to himself. He’d tried to appear cocky to Jack, employing his usual flirty and confident attitude with girls to woo his counterpart, but was now lying in bed questioning his entire existence.
He’d been in a relationship…with a girl…for two full years and still had no explanation as to why Jack seemed to be the only guy he’d ever met who made his heart flutter. He seemed willing to throw away that relationship for the chance at…what, exactly? The chance to seduce Jack again into some competitive and primal moment of getting off? Jack’s talent on a soccer field and the mystery behind their shared infatuation with each other made him feel alive and challenged like no one else, especially his girlfriend, could. He finally drifted off to sleep around midnight.
This time, it was Matt who arrived early, getting out of his car in the pitch black around 4:52AM. Two lowly lit light poles meant more to illuminate the area around the field for safety were the only sources providing any sense of sight in the area. Now in November, the field was wet with dew and the temperature hovered in the mid-40s, much colder than their last meeting. Matt took a deep breath and stretched, preparing to propose the next ‘game’.
Jack pulled up at 4:58, surprised to see Matt down on the field already, his blonde hair falling around his usual sweatband, pale skin ghostly under the dim light, and wearing long thermal tights down to his cleats under his athletic shorts.
“Hey,” Matt greeted him, the confident smile back on his face.
“Hey…” Jack walked towards him, hesitant now of how to act with the two of them alone after their recent meetings.
Matt met him near the top of the box and held out his arms for a hug. Jack was surprised and eyed Matt carefully. Matt knew he’d asked for a lot - the lies, the continued exploration of their sexualities, the admission that they were both still clearly interested in the other in some way beyond athletics and friendship. He filled in the space that Jack’s skepticism had kept open and pulled Jack in for a deep hug, which he lightly returned, still unsure of himself.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Matt pulled away.
“Yeah…it’s freezing…” Jack rubbed his own shoulders.
“Yeah…little different than last time…” Jack shuttered at Matt’s recall of ‘last time’.
“What do you want to do?” Jack asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Crossbar challenge? First to 3?” Matt suggested, wanting a quicker game this time, hoping to speed up getting to the ‘finish’.
“Yeah that works...playing for?” Jack was careful not to jump to conclusions and wasn’t going to be the one to state the obvious.
Matt hesitated, unsure if Jack was uncomfortable or open to him again. But he came here, which meant lying to his girlfriend and taking another leap into the unknown, “same as last time? Anything?”
Jack slowly nodded, biting his lip from both nerves and a burning hunger.
They jogged to opposing corners of the penalty box as the two small light poles cast long, distorted shadows across this side of the field.
“You ready?” Matt called out, his voice echoing slightly in the morning stillness. He bounced the ball on his thigh, then on his shin, the rhythm a familiar comfort to counter his jitters, a different kind of nervous energy than the competitive drive that usually hit just before a game.
“As I’ll ever be. Maybe I’ll finally win something over you,” Jack replied, his voice a little rough but carrying a bit of humor. He adjusted his position, planting his feet firmly on the dew-slicked turf. He tried to focus on the game, on his shot mechanics, but his senses were hyper-aware of Matt. The lean strength of his legs, the casual grace in the way he held himself despite his lanky, tall figure. It was clear to both of them that this was now far past mutual competitive respect.
Matt took the first shot. He jogged a few steps, his eyes locked on the crossbar, a silhouette against the dark sky. He struck the ball with a controlled power, the satisfying THUMP ringing out. It soared upwards, a perfect arc, and struck crossbar with a metallic clang.
“One nil,” Matt fist pumped, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t gloat this time, though. His eyes met Jack’s, searching him for some sense of his inner thoughts.
Jack stepped up to his corner and mimicked Matt’s approach, the same jog, the same focused stare. But as he struck the ball, his mind was a whirlwind. He remembered the weight of Matt’s gaze during their last encounter and the taste of…everything. He was supposed to be straight. He had a girlfriend. Matt had a girlfriend. And yet. These meetings had clearly morphed simply into an excuse to hook up and there was no point in denying it any further.
His shot went high, sailing over the crossbar.
“One nil still,” Matt said, his smile softening. There was a warmth in it now, less competitive triumph than usual.
Jack felt a flush creep up his neck. He nudged a ball towards Matt. “Your turn.”
Matt took his second shot. This time, the ball hit the post with a hollow thud.
“Close,” Jack offered, a little too quickly. He felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Did he even want to win?
Matt chuckled and retrieved the ball, passing it to Jack who lined up for his second shot. It just barely managed to ping off the underside of the crossbar.
“One-one,” Matt declared, looking at Jack with his easy confidence and mojo back. Matt was enamored with the dark haired attacker, butterflies fluttering strong in his chest. He saw not just a rival, but someone who understood his drive in life.
Matt missed his next shot, this time badly soaring it over the net entirely.
Jack’s hands felt cold as he took the ball. He looked at the crossbar and kicked without any charge-up. BANG. Like a gun going off, the ball struck square against the bar.
“Two one…” Jack retrieved the ball, throwing it to Matt, unsure of himself even on the brink of victory.
Matt took a deep breath and stared at Jack, taking in his built frame and dark hair as it moved in the cold morning breeze. He turned on a pivot and took three steps towards the ball before rocketing it directly into the bar. Tied at two.
“Next shot wins? No ‘win by two’?” Matt suggested.
“Yeah…” Jack knew they both just wanted to get to the finish so they could use their competitiveness as the excuse they needed to do what they really came here for.
Jack lined up, knowing he could easily end the game. He could do it. He knew he could. But the thought of winning…was it really what he wanted? He took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He started his run, the familiar motion automatic. He lined himself up, the ball at his feet. He could see Matt watching him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Jack swung his leg, but as the ball left his foot, he intentionally guided it slightly wide, sending it skittering past the goalpost, harmlessly into the empty field.
Matt’s eyebrows rose slightly. He didn’t say anything, just jogged over to retrieve the errant ball. He looked at Jack, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. Then, he jogged back to his own end of the box, the ball now firmly in his grasp.
“My turn, then,” Matt said, his voice softer now, a hint of something questioning in it.
Jack just nodded, his throat dry. He watched as Matt set up. Matt took his run and struck the ball with precision. It flew, a perfect trajectory, and then, that unmistakable clang echoed through the quiet field.
Matt turned, a slow smile playing on his lips. He met Jack’s gaze, and there was a new understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgement of Jack’s deliberate miss.
“Looks like I win…again” Matt said, his voice a low, smooth tone that sent shivers down Jack’s spine. He walked towards Jack, the ball dropping to the ground between them.
Jack swallowed hard. He knew what he wanted, and he’d just ensured it. He met Matt’s eyes, and this time, the hesitancy was gone, replaced by a breathless anticipation. He was ready for whatever Matt wanted. For whatever they wanted.
“Guess you just own me out on the pitch…” Jack let out with a small, nervous, knowing grin. He felt awkward openly flirting with Matt, the veil starting to lift on their dance.
“I’m just lucky,” Matt played down his cockiness, momentarily.
“So…” Jack started, slicking his dark hair back, “what do you want…” he tried to hide his excitement, the thrill of being surprised at Matt’s inevitably dirty and forbidden requests of him.
Without speaking, Matt lifted Jack’s shirt from his body, revealing a tan, slim, but toned, chest with two olive colored nipples, hard from the chilly morning air. He watched as Jack’s breathing intensified, his chest expanding in an ever quickening rhythm. Matt leaned in and made soft contact with Jack’s neck, lightly kissing and teasing it with his teeth. Jack closed his eyes and breathed out, feeling their sensual connection deep in his core. Matt slowly kissed down his shoulders, onto his chest, and eventually onto his right nipple, gritting his teeth carefully and biting, playing with it. Jack’s mouth involuntarily opened wide, the softest of moans escaping his throat.
“Matt…what do you want me to do?” Jack tried to reset the situation, offering himself up again.
“Shhh…I won…shut up…” Matt continued nibbling at Jack’s nipple, moving his left hand behind the small of Jack’s lower back where it met his waist, feeling hard muscle and rough, masculine skin.
Matt slowly kissed his way down Jack’s six pack, planting a peck on each ab like stairs to a prize down below. Reaching the waist band of Jack’s sweatpants he looked up.
His eyes. Jack saw it in his eyes. A yearning, desperate, warm begging. Far beyond competition and now seeming to go even farther than just sex, there was genuine emotion in those beautiful, big, blue eyes.
“Okay…yeah…” Jack answered Matt’s face, knowing the question he was signaling with those innocent and tender eyes.
Matt’s hands moved carefully, gripping the waistband of Jack’s sweatpants and slowly lowering them as the blonde midfielder felt excitement and fear at seeing Jack naked for the first time. Jack’s sweats slid down, followed by black briefs, damp in the front, revealing Jack’s groin.
His skin was a shade less tanned than his upper body, but still considerably darker than Matt’s own pale complexion. Jack was hard, about six cut inches curving slightly upward, two or so less than Matt’s. His pubic hair was also thicker than Matt’s, a jet black, slightly unruly, mess that contrasted Matt’s smooth groin. Matt turned his head, taking in the sight of Jack’s balls, drawn up tight against his body, a natural reaction to the cool morning air.
Matt’s smile was slow and genuine. Jack found himself laughing, pure relief and exhilaration.
“My girlfriend has never looked at my dick with this much infatuation before,” Jack blurted out, the joke a nervous tic, a way to distract Matt from studying his penis.
Matt’s laughed and shook his head in disbelief at himself. “Shut the fuck up,” he managed, his voice thick with amusement.
Matt lowered his head. He nuzzled into the dark curls, his lips finding Jack’s balls. Jack gasped, caught off guard, as Matt’s mouth closed around one, then the other, tasting the salty sweat and earthy scent of pubic hair covering them. Matt nibbled and sucked on his sack, Jack’s hard dick throbbing above and begging for attention. After thirty seconds, Matt felt Jack jerk backwards.
“Matt! Ah, fuck, that hurt, you can’t suck my balls so hard,” Jack sputtered, his voice tight with a mix of pain, pleasure, and humor at speaking such a sentence out loud.
Matt pulled back, his blue eyes wide with innocence, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. “Sorry,” he chuckled, “it’s my first time doing this.”
Matt dove back in, this time focusing his attention on Jack’s throbbing penis. He took it into his mouth, his hand wrapping around the shaft. Jack’s fingers found Matt’s long, blonde hair, still confined by the sweatband on his forehead, and gently, began to twirl it in his fingers. The sensation of Matt’s mouth, the soft suction, the lapping of his tongue against the underside of his cock head, sent shivers of pure pleasure through Jack’s entire body.
As Matt continued, his hands moved to Jack’s backside, his fingers pressing into the firm, toned flesh of Jack’s glutes. He squeezed, kneading them and feeling the dense, muscular cheeks contract under his touch. He could feel some hair on the skin there, a surprise against his own naturally smooth cheeks and the girls he’d done stuff with. But it didn’t bother him because it was Jack. He kneaded deeply, appreciating the way Jack’s bare ass, the engine of his soccer prowess, responded to his touch.
“I want you to cum in my mouth,” Matt murmured, his voice muffled against Jack's cock, the demand raw but tender.
“Is that what you’re picking as your winning prize?” Jack teased him.
Matt let his teeth glance against the flesh of Jack’s cock.
“OW fuck! HEY!” Jack playfully smacked Matt’s face, “not cool!”
“Well stop being a dick!” Matt lifted his face and pumped Jack with his hand, feeling his own spit glide over Jack’s cut dick as lube, “yes. With yet another win over you…I want your cum…” he returned to sucking Jack with a fury.
Matt’s words and hunger as he sucked Jack off like his life depended on it sent Jack spiraling. He gripped Matt’s hair tighter, his hips beginning to move instinctively. He urged Matt on, both with his hands and his body as he started to hump his cock deeper into Matt’s mouth, meeting his mouth with light thrusts. He felt the familiar build-up, the tightening in his gut, the overwhelming surge of pleasure about to break.
“Matt, it’s coming…” Jack groaned out. Matt sped up further.
“Matt…I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…”
With a guttural groan, Jack drove himself down, pressing Matt’s mouth more firmly onto his cock. He felt himself release, a hot, powerful flood of seed depositing directly down Matt’s throat. Matt’s suction intensified, an attempt to draw every single ounce out of Jack’s body.
Jack collapsed backwards onto the ground, naked other than his sweats and underwear around his ankle, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Matt stood up and wiped his mouth, tasting pure man on his tongue.
“Fuck man…” Jack panted, struggling to get his lower clothing back up before laying back on the turf, shirtless in the cold.
Matt laid down next to him, “Yeah…we’re even now.”
“Even? You beat me though?” Jack was confused.
“I meant on blowjobs,” Matt turned his head to the side to face Jack, who let out a loud genuine laugh. He felt like a silly kid again, caught up in one of the moments in life that one never forgets.
“Yeah that felt pretty damn good…” Jack admitted. He moved his hand halfway between them on the turf and held it facing upward and open, taking a leap.
Matt reached over and met it, holding his hand and interlocking their fingers, “I don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing but I want to keep doing it.”
Jack smiled at him, some trepidation on his face, mostly forced, out of an instinct to reject his feelings. Fuck the instinct.
Jack took a deep breath and squeezed Matt’s hand tight, “I’m going to break up with my girlfriend…”
Matt smiled and rolled his eyes, “okay fine, me too. I guess that’s the right thing to do after you suck a dick…” They giggled.
“What now?” Matt asked.
“Now we go into the playoffs and I finally win the game that matters when we meet in the final.” Jack smiled.
Matt released Jack’s hand and sat up on his elbows, an idea playing on his face that he was nervous to say out loud, “how about another bet? Want to…uhhh…” he struggled to find the right words. Jack raised an eyebrow curiously.
Matt scrunched his nose before deciding to just say it, “winner fucks the loser in the butt?”
Jack returned a devilish grin.
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