* EIGHT YEARS EARLIER * 

~ ~ GAGE ~ ~

"Get 'em, Gage!"  I heard Kenny's voice from the chorus of cheers in the crowd as I rushed down the pitch, slamming into the players on the other team. When their Forward tumbled, losing control of the ball, my dad howled with delight. "That's my boy!"

His boy? 

Yeah. When it suited him. 

That was my sperm donor and I tried to ignore him as play continued.  I'd not seen him for a week.  But, at least he appeared sober, maybe.

Keeping my head down. This wasn't by any means an important game but I still gave it my all. Y'all never knew when a scout might be watchin' and lately, I'd been getting some interest. 

 Coach said it too. And the next few games could be a game-changer for me.

Duncan, a teammate rolled up next to me. I guess he was the closest thing to a friend I had in this town.  I'd only been at this school for roughly five months, and I hardly knew anyone.  Honestly, I gave up trying to make friends as we never stayed anywhere long, so it was pointless as any second, Kenny on a whim or because he owed money or pissed the wrong person off, would pack our shit up and move us on to the next town.

"Nice, dude. That motherfucker needed taking down," he said and then turned his attention to two girls giggling and sticking their tits out, up ahead.  He winked at them as we jogged together toward the sidelines.

I rolled my eyes with a chuckle as I punched him in the shoulder. "Your fan club is embarrassing."

"You're just jealous because it looks like I'm getting laid tonight." He punched me back.

When I glanced over at the two girls again, they were making flirty eyes at both of us. I tried my best not to grimace. "Both of them?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, why not? Unless you want to share?" 

I didn't. 

Brett Foster, our captain and quarterback darted between us, smacking us both hard on the back of the heads. "Get your heads in the game, boys!"

I bit back a snarky reply.

Foster twisted around and our eyes met, with his lingering on me longer than usual. Weird.

And here I thought I just played defence and stopped the other team from scoring.

By the end of the game, I was a sweaty stinky mess. But it didn't stop Kenny from yanking me to one side, telling me all the shit I did wrong and what I could do better next time.

Asshole.

Like, how the fuck would he know?

He had spent more time smoking weed in high-school than playing football. And from what I'd gathered he hadn't made it through one semester of college either.

"Be home early."

Oh, shit.  That didn't sound good.

Inside the changing rooms, the Coach shouted me over. 

Grabbing a bottled water, I headed his way. "You want me, Coach?" I unscrewed the top and started gulping it down.

He pressed a hand to my shoulder. "Good game out there." He hissed through his teeth. "I know you're not big on talkin', but they want a rundown of the game for the school paper."

Ugh. He was right about talking. I tossed the empty bottle into the trash. "Coach... can't—" I was about to protest when he cut in.

"Sorry, kid. They asked for you."

"What about Brett Foster?"

"He's already in there." He grinned. "Do it now, before you shower." He lifted his hand and slapped my back. "The smell might make her think twice about asking for you again." He laughed out loud. 

He was right about the smell. I was ripe.

Heading off, I found Foster with the reporter. I couldn't remember her name. Brett's eyebrows and chin hiked up when he saw me and I parked myself in the chair next to his.  Brett spread his legs a little wide and his knee now rubbed up against mine.

I stared at our knees touching.  Should I move mine?   He didn't appear bothered and I wasn't sure what to think 'bout that.

"How does it feel to be being known as one the greatest quarterbacks of all time at our high school?" she asked Brett.

"It feels great!" he replied

She fired off more questions but I wasn't paying until Brett nudged me.

"Huh?" I looked up.

"Cat got your tongue, Gage?" asked whatshername from the paper.

She rose from the chair with her dictaphone in hand and shifted around the desk. I watched her hips sway, noticing how her tits bounced and the way she licked her lips.

It would have most guys panting.  But not me. "Sorry. Can you repeat the question?"

Brett chuckled shaking his head. "Cut him some slack, sweetheart, they take a lot of hits out on the field."

I hadn't but if it stopped her asking me any questions. I was good with it.

"I asked do you have a girlfriend? Our readers are interested. You're the dark horse on the team." 

Ugh.  I didn't want this conversation. Not now. Not ever.  "I don't have time for distractions," I answered.  It was half-true.

Thankfully, she turned her attention to Brett, who had 'dated' most of the cheerleaders and I tuned out again.

Halle-fucking-lujah.  

I was relieved when Brett finally called time and I was up and out of there before she could say another word.

Back in the locker room, I stripped and headed into the showers. All the guys had already finished up and were dressing.  Flipping on the shower, the heat eased the tension in my exhausted muscles.

I closed my eyes and let my body relax beneath the warm water. A few minutes later, another shower-head cut on, putting an end to my solitude.

I opened my eyes just as Brett stepped beneath the stream of water. I couldn't help the momentary once-over I gave his ass before I faced the shower wall again.

The voices from the locker room had quietened and most likely we were the last two in here. I flicked another glance Brett's way. He was rinsing shampoo off his hair, tipping his head back.

My dick twitched.

While Brett's honed and sculpted muscles were enough to shame a gladiator, it wasn't just his looks that made him hard to ignore. From the way he held himself to the way, he looked down at everyone around him.  He screamed wealth and power.  I'd heard his family had more money than the pope.  And they practically ran this town.

Dragging my hands through my hair, I stole another look, only this time he was looking at me.

Fuck.

What was with that look?

It looked almost dangerous.

And with a smirk, he placed his back to the tile wall.

My eyes couldn't help but take a detour and fuck me. He was hard.

Water cascaded over his defined chest and abs. I was like a fly trapped in a spider's web, unable to look away as he trailed his hand down his stomach to his hard cock. There was something animalistic and raw to the way he fisted himself.

Was I seeing things?

Had I hit my head and was lying unconscious on the floor?

Or... was he like me?  Hiding.

Steam billowed in the space between us. Tension cloyed the air, promising to suffocate me as I watched Brett's fist pump with more purpose.

My dick was called to action and my balls grew heavy and tightened. This was erotic as fuck. It was alluring and taboo, something I told myself I shouldn't want, but given the way my dick hardened, my body definitely wanted something from him—And he knew it.

I fought not to touch myself, but when Brett dropped his head back on a low groan, I lost that battle.

I fisted myself, stroking a thumb over the bead of pre-cum on my tip as ribbons of cum spurted from Brett's cock and splattered the shower floor. As soon as he was done, he turned the water off not bothering to rinse all of the soap off his body.

It was as though giving me a show was the main reason he came in here.

And I liked that thought.

His gaze fell to my hard cock as he wrapped a towel around his waist. His teeth painted his bottom lip before he stepped out and rounded the lockers.

I'd dated a few girls, fucked them too, but no one knew I was more into guys. I'd kept those desires hidden only because Kenny couldn't have a queer for a son. A faggot.

But when I left for college, I was finally gonna be myself.

Six months and fucking counting.