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“I better go with them, make sure Luke still remembers this is a party,” Troy says, patting each of our shoulders before following after his boyfriend.
“Goddamn, you’re sexy when you’re flustered,” I tell Bryan, who is still looking a bit shell-shocked.
“I am not flustered.”
“Are too, you don’t know what to fucking do with yourself after that. You’re an inspiration, Bryant Nicks,” I tell him teasingly.
He pulls me roughly against his chest, bending to scrape his teeth along my jaw. “I’m about to inspire you to bend over the nearest flat surface.”
“I dare you,” I taunt in a low voice, slowly reaching inside my pocket to grip my phone. I’m not sure what buttons I’m hitting, but I know the moment the plug starts up, because Bryant nearly goes limp against me before righting himself. He clears his throat, looming over me menacingly. “Jack,” he growls.
“Yes, Coach?”
BRYANT- THREE YEARS LATER
My fingernails dig into the plush leather of the chair I’m sitting in as I lean forward, as if by looking down at Jack from the box seats, I’ll somehow be able to see him better than I can on the screen. He must feel my gaze boring into him, because he looks up toward my usual seats at the Carolina Panthers’ home stadium. My chin dips down in a nod of encouragement, even though I know there’s no way he can actually see me.
I love you. You can do this. I mouth the words and get to my feet as the quarterback calls the play. The offensive line jostles around into a formation I’m not familiar with. This must be a new play they’re trying, putting it all on the line in the last seconds of the game.
They’re down by four points, and the only thing that can save this game is a touchdown. With only seconds on the clock, they’re on their fourth down, with far too many yards between them and the end zone. This is their last chance.
Time slows. The ball is snapped, and the fist around my rib cage clenches tightly as I watch Jack’s legs eat up the field, heading into the end zone. He cuts left, and then right, dodging the opposing team’s defensive players as they try to take him down. He doesn’t even seem to be looking at the ball, which is flying over his head at an impossible rate. The quarterback overthrew it, or dodging the players cost too much time. Whatever the reason, there’s no way he can?—
“TOUCHDOWN!!! MAGIC HANDS JACK PERRY HAS DONE IT AGAIN! THE PANTHERS ARE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL!!!”
The announcers are going nuts. The stands are absolute pandemonium, with fans breaking through security to run onto the field. The team rushes Jack, and I lose him in the fray until they lift him above their heads. He’s still clenching the ball in his hands, lifting it above his head in victory before holding the ball out in front of him, pointed towards where I’m standing, both hands pressed against the glass.
He fucking did it.
It feels like hours later that I’m still pacing the sky box, waiting for him to come to me. I had to convince Troy and Luke to leave because they were making me more nervous, but I didn't expect to be waiting for nearly this long. It’s too warm in here, even after everyone else has finally filtered out, but every time I take my jacket off, I pull it back on, feeling the weight in my right-hand pocket as I pace.
He usually meets me here after home games. It takes a while to get through all the interviews, celebrating in the locker room, and showers, but not this long. Even with all the extra attention and time it would take to finish up after a major win—one that’s secured their spot in the Super Bowl of all things—he’s taken twice as long as usual.
Maybe he pulled something during that impossible drive, completing what the sportscasters are calling the ‘play of the season’. I didn’t notice him limping at all when he was making his way through the press towards the locker room, but the highest-scoring wide receiver in the NFL isn’t about to show any weakness leading up to the biggest game he’ll ever play.
My phone doesn’t show any missed messages from Jack or any members of the coaching staff. They’d let me know if anything was wrong. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m too jittery and nervous to stay caged in here much longer.
The cleaning staff pokes their head in, probably waiting for me to leave so they can finish up for the night. Waving them in and handing off a generous tip for being so patient with me, I flip off the tv that’s been showing game highlights and take the elevator down from the skybox, heading into the area designated for staff and team members only. The guard recognizes me and gives me a friendly nod as he packs up for the night. The stadium is empty, even most of the staff are gone.
“Your boy played well today,” he says, and I accept his congratulatory handshake before he waves me through. “Most everyone’s gone already, but I haven’t seen Mr. Perry leave yet.”
“I’m expecting to find him in an ice bath or getting chewed out for that penalty he incurred in the second quarter,” I say with a chuckle as I walk into the dark hallway that leads to the team facilities.
“It was a bullshit call anyway,” the guard says before I’m too far down the hallway to not be able to hear him.
Nearly all the lights are off, and none of the offices seem to be occupied. I head toward the locker room, hoping I’m not about to find him neck deep in an ice bath with an injury he might not recover from.
A memory jolts through me as I walk into the empty locker room to search for him, and I find myself walking towards the showers. Steam billows out of the open door, and my lips quirk.
Stepping into the haze, I find Jack leaning into a stream of hot water. His back is to me, muscles rippling as he leans with one arm on the wall, stroking himself with his free hand. I’m frozen to the spot, locked in the visceral memory of the first time I saw Jack in the showers. My cock fills and presses painfully into the back of my zipper.
Jack looks over his shoulder at the sound of my clothes dropping to the floor and smirks. Even after almost five years together, I’m still obsessed with every inch of him. I’m hypnotized by his skin, pulled in like a magnet until my fingers are lightly caressing down his spine and over the curve of his muscular ass. He shudders as my tongue traces a path up the middle of his spine and over the back of his neck.
“Finally, you show up,” he rasps. “I was just about to give up and take care of this myself.”
With barely more than a rumble deep in my throat, I smack his hand away from his cock and turn him around, crowding him with his back against the tile. The hot water has nothing on the temperature of my skin. I'm so hot all this steam could be coming directly from my body.
My skin fuses itself to his as I take his mouth in a searing kiss. He gasps, and my tongue plunges inside, stoking the fire that builds between us. My cock, hard and desperate to be closer to Jack, rubs his as we grind against each other. I break from his lips to kiss and nip at his jawline, his stubble sending a spark of electricity down my spine.
