This is the fourth semi-autobiographical story of an evolving relationship between Jake and Ryan. Reading the first 3 would be beneficial for context, but not essential. Please leave a comment and let me know what you liked and disliked. I'd like to work on my writing style, so feedback would be great. And where should this pair go next?
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The changing room was nearly silent, when Jake came in from his extended training. Only the faint hum of the overhead lights and the vanishing echoes of the voices of his teammates' voices fading down the corridor. That was until Ryan burst through the door from the gym.
Jake had not seen or spoken to Ryan since he left Ryan's house in the early hours of Monday, the previous week. Having become close, absence had resulted in confusion, doubt and an uncomfortable stalemate.
Jake had spent the extra hour working on his long-range shooting, perfecting his technique, driving ball after ball toward the top corner until his legs tired. Sweat soaked through his training kit.
Ryan, meanwhile, had been in the gym, lifting weights, pushing himself, building bulk on his muscles. Now, both of them were exhausted, overheated, and slick with perspiration as they found themselves alone in the changing room.
Jake sat on the bench, running a towel over his face and through his damp hair, trying not to look across the room to where Ryan stood, shirtless, casually stretching out his shoulders. He felt ripped, as he always did after a session on the weights.
Ignoring Ryan was impossible.
It had happened twice now. Twice, they had crossed that line. Ryan pushing, teasing, daring him to admit what he wanted. And Jake, well despite his inner confusion, had taken the bait.
It was still fresh, still something he hadn't fully figured out. But he did know one thing. Ryan had a hold over him and that was terrifying.
Ryan leaned against the lockers, watching him with that same air of confidence, his glistening skin making the definition in his arms and chest even more pronounced.
"You've been quiet lately," he said.
Jake scoffed, tossing his towel into his bag. "I dunno what you expect me to say."
Ryan smirked. "How about, 'Hey Ryan, you look great. Love the way you push yourself.'" He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Or maybe, 'Hey Ryan, I can't stop thinking about you, do you want to hang out?'"
Jake's stomach twisted. Because he had been thinking about it. Too much.
He exhaled sharply, standing up and turning to his locker, as if focusing on something else would make Ryan disappear.
"Can you not........." his voice faded out.
"Not what?" Ryan was closer now, his voice smooth, infuriating.
"Not...." Jake hesitated again, gripping the edge of the locker. He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Not flirt? Not mess with my head? Not make me feel things I don't know how to deal with? These words floated around his head, but didn't come out.
Ryan's breath was suddenly near his ear. "Not.... remind you?"
Jake froze, heat prickling across his skin. The scent of sweat clung to both of them, the physical exhaustion doing nothing to dull the tension between them.
Ryan's fingers brushed lightly along Jake's side, teasing, lingering against the fabric of his damp training shirt.
"You keep acting like you don't want this," he murmured, "but I know different."
Jake closed his eyes. "It's not that simple."
"It's not anything, just what we choose to make it, a thing or nothing," Ryan countered. His hand slid lower, settling on Jake's waist, just enough pressure to make Jake's pulse spike.
"We're alone. No team mates, no expectations. Just you and me."
Jake swallowed hard. His mind screamed at him to step back, to shut this down. But his body wasn't listening. It craved more.
Ryan must have noticed because he chuckled softly, his fingers trailing higher, skating over Jake's ribs, then his chest before gripping his shoulder and turning him around.
Jake found himself face-to-face with Ryan, their bodies too close, their skin damp, the heat between them undeniable.
Ryan tilted his head. "Tell me to stop," he said again, "just like on the bus."
Jake's chest tightened. He should. He really should.
But instead, he reached for Ryan, fingers curling around his wrist, holding him close.
Ryan held Jake's gaze, his smirk lingering--but then, just when Jake thought he might push further for a kiss, he stepped back.
"Fair enough," Ryan murmured, voice casual, but there was something knowing in his eyes. He reached for the waistband of his training shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion. The fabric hit the floor, leaving him in just his compression shorts, sweat-slicked skin catching the flourescent light of the changing room.
Jake swallowed hard and turned away, pretending to rummage through his bag. Don't look. Just don't look.
Ryan, of course, took his time. He peeled off his vest top next, stretching slightly as he pulled it over his head. Jake could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft sigh Ryan let out as the cool air hit his overheated skin.
Jake froze, staring hard at the inside of his locker. He wasn't going to give Ryan the satisfaction. He wasn't.
Then came the unmistakable sound of Ryan's compression shorts sliding down.
Jake's resolve cracked.
His gaze flicked sideways--just for a second, just to confirm what he already knew.
But that was a mistake.
Ryan stood completely naked, his body toned and glistening, his confidence so effortless, it was maddening. He was already walking toward the showers, completely unbothered, and Jake had to force himself to tear his eyes away before Ryan looked over his shoulder and caught him watching.
Except he did catch him.
Ryan paused just before stepping into the showers, with a knowing smirk. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to. The look was enough.
Jake felt his face heat. He quickly turned back to his locker, trying to be busy with something, anything, but his heart was pounding.
The sound of rushing water filled the silence, steam beginning to drift through the air. Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.
He needed to get out of there.
He took a shaky breath, staring at the exit. He should leave. Grab his bag, head back to his digs, and take a shower at home, alone. That was the logical choice. The safe choice.
But his feet didn't move.
Ryan was in there, his silhouette visible through the steamy mist, washing off the intensity of the day.
Despite everything telling him to walk away, something even stronger pulled him forward.
Jake exhaled sharply, as if trying to shake off his hesitation. Then, before he could overthink it, he peeled off his damp kit and tossed it onto the bench. His fingers moved on autopilot as he stepped toward the showers, the cool floor tiles sending a shiver up his spine.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the heat hit him--thick steam curling around him, the hiss of water echoing off the walls.