Follow the River

While I appreciate the hell out of Coach Scott for the mentorship and all he’s done for me as a second father figure, I can’t help but feel irritation for his comment. For thinking I’m always the root of the problem because I sometimes like to be a smartass a little too often.

Or at inappropriate moments.

Shit okay, I guess he has a point. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The door slams open against the wall behind it as I enter the locker room, still salty about the entire fucking incident. Steam is rising in the air and I faintly hear the sound of water spraying onto tile, signaling Rain is in one of the showers. At least, I think it’s Rain, seeing as everyone else still has easily another two hours of practice before they’ll be done for the day.

My mind latches onto him in the other room, naked and dripping wet, and my cock springs to life behind my athletic shorts.

Fuck me.

I can’t stand this attraction I feel towards him.

Whipping my shirt and pi

Last thing I need is for him to attempt to drown me in the inch of water puddled on the floor of the shower room.

I make quick work of rinsing off my body, seeing as I haven't sweat much in the short amount of time I was actually practicing today, and hop out of the shower. Sounds of water splashing still come from the stall Rain occupies as I wrap my towel around my waist and head back out to my cubby. Redressing in a clean shirt and jeans is slightly difficult with the ache in my wrist and shoulder, and fingers tingle slightly when I tie my shoes, but I don’t think he managed to do any major damage with his vice grip.

I’m ru

And fuck, do my eyes wander.

I’ve always been very considerate with my teammates and their privacy, seeing as I’m openly bisexual and it might make them feel awkward to be changing in front of me. Never have I ever openly ogled them half or fully naked while in the locker room. Or fuck, even at all.

I need their respect as their captain, and the last thing I want to do is fuck with the chemistry we have going by getting an eye full of man candy.

Not that it’s been difficult, seeing as I’ve never been attracted to any of my teammates while playing for CU.

Until Rain, that is.

My perusal works its way down to his crotch, where a slight bulge is present behind the rough, white fabric. He’s not hard, at least, I don’t think he is, but from the size of said bulge, it’s apparent he is very well-endowed.

More so than I realized in that classroom those few weeks ago.

Subconsciously, I find myself rolling my teeth over my bottom lip, my thoughts straying to the night in Portland when I offered to suck him off.

Before I realized he was hard because of me.

After that, I wanted a fuckton more than just his dick in and around my mouth.

A

Fucking perfect.

Like he can read my goddamn mind, Rain turns his attention my way and catches me blatantly checking him out for probably the…what, thirtieth time since we’ve met? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you how many times it’s happened.

But…at least every other time he wasn’t practically naked.

A scowl instantly mars his rugged face, his dark brows creasing in the center, furrowing over a pair of whiskey eyes. Combined with the slight scruff dusting his jaw and he looks like a darker, pissed off, fuckhot version of that singer Jack Gilinsky.

“Are you fucking serious right now? Do you want me to actually rip your fucking arm from your body?”

“Uh, no?” It comes out more like a question than I mean it to, as if I’m really contemplating on letting him dismember me.

That sounds like a hard fucking pass.

“Then stop looking at me like you’ve seen me fucking naked.” The snarl evident in his tone should be warning enough. I’m treading down a dangerous path and if I want to leave this locker room on my feet rather than in a body bag, I’d better shut up real quick.

Then again, I’ve always liked to live life on the edge.

“I mean…you kind of are…right now.”

And just like that, I find myself being lifted by the neck only to be slammed down, my back against the wood bench that is positioned in front of the row of cubbies.

“You’re asking for a good ass kicking, Le

“You’re not wrong,” I taunt, refusing to back down despite the dizziness hitting me from his brutal manhandling of my body.

So what if he knows I’m attracted to him? Knows this little fucking dance we do with each other only serves as the best kind of foreplay?

I’m many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. There’s no way I’m going to start now just to appease him.

His smirk is filled with venom, and I instantly know I’m not going to like what he has to say next. “Too bad the only way I’ll even consider touching your ass is if it were to bury you six feet under after snapping your fucking neck like a twig.”

With that final barb, he releases his hold on me, heading back over to his own locker to get dressed. Leaving me disoriented with the begi

Pulling myself into a sitting position, I stare at his back as he starts pulling clothes from a duffle inside his cubby, wondering how in the ever-loving fuck he has this much hatred brewing inside him for me alone.

“Stop fucking staring at me.”

I don’t stop staring.

His eyes flick up to mine and he throws his duffle back into his locker, stalking back to me once again. “You need to get this through your goddamn skull. Hate isn’t a strong enough word to describe what I feel for you. The only reason I bother interacting with your queer ass is because football means the world to me. Stop fucking with it.” His face is so close, I can feel the dampness of his skin, sending a chill through me. “Stop staring at me like you want to fuck me. Stop with the witty bullshit that never fails to fall from your arrogant mouth. Jesus Christ, if you stopped fucking breathing around me, that’d be preferrable.”

My blood boils at his words, the infuriating way they make me want to do the exact opposite of what I know I should. I’m not normally a hothead, but something about this fucking guy has me bursting with animosity.

“What the hell is your problem?” I roar, getting in his face and pushing him in the chest. My fingers slide against the smooth muscles of his pecs, small droplets of water clinging to them, and I have the urge to lick every single one of them.

Fuck. Why do I have to want the one guy on the team, hell, in the school, that hates me?

His lips curl back in a sneer, just about knocking me off my feet, it’s filled with that much disdain. “How many times do I have to answer that? You’re my problem! Jesus Christ, can I make it more obvious to you?”