Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional mind control, rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.
*****
The bus rattled to a stop outside a modest roadside hotel, and Jake followed the rest of the team into the crisp evening air. It was their first overnight football tour, and excitement buzzed through the squad. Jake, a first-year midfielder still trying to find his place, felt out of his depth. When he checked the roommate list pinned to the coach's clipboard, his stomach flipped: Ryan.
Ryan was the team's star striker, tall, blonde, and effortlessly skilled. While he was friendly enough, he wasn't like the others. Where the rest of the team revelled in post-game banter and late-night antics, Ryan stayed on the side-lines of the bravado. He wasn't cold--he always offered a smile or a quick comment during practice--but he never joined in the endless teasing or the chatter about the girls who lingered after games. He seemed comfortable keeping his distance, focused on the game rather than the chaos surrounding it.
Jake hadn't spoken much to Ryan since joining the team. Not because Ryan was unapproachable, but because he always seemed content in his own quiet world. Now Jake was about to spend the night sharing a cramped hotel room with him. Nervous energy churned in Jake's chest as he dragged his bag inside, glancing down the hallway.
Ryan appeared moments later, casually hauling his duffel bag over one shoulder. "Hey," he said with an easy smile as their eyes met. His voice was calm, unhurried, and it took the edge off Jake's nerves.
"Hey," Jake managed to reply, trying not to sound awkward.
Ryan nodded toward their room. "Let's get settled."
Jake followed him, wondering what he might learn about his enigmatic teammate and if Ryan's quiet confidence might just rub off on him.
The team gathered in the hotel's modest dining room, noisy excitement filling the air as they pushed together tables and claimed seats in a haphazard arrangement. Plates piled high with pasta and bread made the rounds, and the chatter quickly turned boisterous. Jake sat near the middle, half-listening to the animated recaps of the day's practice as he stole occasional glances at Ryan, who was seated at the far end of the table.
Ryan participated politely, answering questions and laughing softly at a few jokes, but it was clear he wasn't invested in the rowdiness building around him. When dessert arrived, and the first bottle of something stronger was uncapped, Ryan stood.
"I'm calling it a night," he said casually, picking up his plate and turning toward the door. A few guys called after him, trying to coax him back, but he just waved them off with a small smile.
Jake watched him go, wondering--not for the first time--how Ryan managed to make detachment look so effortless. He felt a pang of envy before someone nudged his arm.
"Come on, Jake, you're not skipping out like him, are you?"
The drinking games began in earnest, and Jake soon found himself pulled into card games with forfeits and dares that grew progressively louder and more chaotic. He was determined not to be the shy freshman, so he drank when prompted, laughing along even when the burn in his throat started to sting.
By the time they finished the second bottle, Jake's head was merry. His words came too quickly, but he was feeling good, and most of all, having a great time. This was his chance to fit in, to be part of the team. Just what he needed.
Laughter echoed off the walls as the team's antics escalated. Jake felt warm and light, the alcohol making everything seem a little funnier, a little easier. He felt his usual nerves melt away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he noticed Ryan's absence. It seemed strange
Jake leaned toward Max, who was across the table, laughing mid-story about some disastrous game from last season. "Hey, Max," Jake interrupted, his words very slightly slurred.
Max smirked. "What's up, rookie? You having a good time?"
Jake nodded, his gaze flickering toward the empty seat Ryan had left behind. "Yeah, it's fun. But... what's Ryan's deal? Why does he always leave early?"
Max leaned back in his chair, eyeing Jake with mild amusement. "Ryan, huh? Didn't peg you as the curious type."
Jake shrugged, emboldened by the alcohol. "He's cool, just... different. Doesn't drink, doesn't join in with all this." He gestured vaguely to the rowdy group around them. "I mean, he's part of the team, right? So why does he keep to himself?"
Max took a sip of his drink, considering the question. "That's just Ryan. Always been like that since he joined. He's not rude or anything--he just doesn't care about all this."
"But why?" Jake pressed. "I mean, he could be the life of the party if he wanted to. People like him, right?."
Max shrugged. "Maybe that's why he doesn't. Doesn't need it. Ryan's focused, you know? Maybe he finds the banter and rude jokes not to his taste, just a bit trivial."
Jake frowned, swirling the remnants of his drink. "Still seems... I don't know. Lonely?"
Max shook his head. "Nah. That's just how he is. He's not lonely--he's just private. Trust me, he's solid. He's just not the type to join this circus."
Jake nodded slowly, maybe Max was right, but Jake got the impression that Max knew more, but wasn't willing to say.
Late into the night the dinning room thinned out as one by one the revellers retired. Max had long since disappeared. Jake had stayed long enough to fit in with the group, but he was ready to turn in.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning as Jake opened the door, surprised to find Ryan not only awake but sitting on the small sofa by the window. A lamp cast a warm glow, and Ryan glanced up from his book when Jake walked in.
"Late night?" Ryan asked with a faint smile, setting the book aside.
