Page 64 of Try Line Hearts
Just for a second.
Eli’s grin was dangerous.
Not cocky. Not for the cameras.
For him.
The changing rooms were bedlam—steam, sweat, adrenaline still snapping in the air. Laughter ricocheted off tiled walls. Someone cranked music too loud. Someone else yelled over it anyway.
Lucas stood before his locker, chest still rising and falling hard, heart racing from more than the scoreline. He peeled his jersey over his head, the fabric damp and heavy, and wiped his face with a towel.
“Captain,” someone called. “Media’s waiting.”
“In a minute,” Lucas said automatically.
He meant it.
Eli drifted past him, close enough that Lucas felt heat through damp fabric. He didn’t stop walking—just tilted his head toward the far corridor, the one that led to equipment storage and the physio overflow rooms.
A suggestion.
Lucas followed without thinking.
The door shut behind them with a muted click.
The room was narrow, dim, cluttered with tackle bags and spare kit. The concrete walls held the chill of the building; the air smelled faintly of rubber and sweat and disinfectant. The distant roar of thestadium filtered through concrete and steel—loud enough to mask sounds, not loud enough to erase the risk.
Eli turned, eyes dark.
“You like it?” he asked quietly.
Lucas didn’t pretend not to understand. “Like what.”
“Being in charge,” Eli said. “Out there. Everyone listening. Everyone moving when you tell them to.”
Lucas stepped closer. The space between them vanished in a single stride. “You asking as a player or—”
“As me,” Eli said, soft but intent.
The equipment room smelled like sweat-soaked leather and rubber mats, the air thick with the distant roar of the stadium crowd filtering through the thin door. Lucas's pulse hammered in his ears, matching the adrenaline still buzzing from the game. Eli stood too close, his lean frame radiating heat through their damp jerseys, big brown eyes locked on Lucas with that mix of challenge and surrender that always twisted something deep in Lucas's gut.
The team was just outside—shouts and laughter echoing as they stripped off gear—but in here, it was just them, the risk sharpening every breath. Lucas's hands shot up, fingers digging into Eli's jersey at the hips, yanking him forward until their bodies crashed together. The contact was electric, Eli's exhale hot against Lucas's neck, low and ragged.
‘Yeah,” Lucas growled, voice rough from the game's yells. “I do.” Eli's smile spread slow and wicked, those full lips parting just enough to tease.
“Good,’ he murmured, pressing in closer, his voice a whisper against Lucas's skin. “Then don't hold back.” Lucas's control shattered like glass under a cleat. He chuckled dark and low,shoving Eli down hard. Eli dropped to his knees on the gritty concrete, studs scraping as he went, eyes never leaving Lucas's.
With a quick tug, Lucas yanked his shorts and jock down, his thick cock springing free, already hard and throbbing from the tension. Eli didn't hesitate—his mouth opened wide, tongue flicking out to lap at the swollen head before sucking the length in deep, greedy and wet.
Fuck, the heat of Eli's mouth was perfect, lips stretching around Lucas's dick as he bobbed forward, taking more with each sloppy pull. Lucas groaned, the sound swallowed by the stadium's noise, but the thrill of it all—the door just feet away, teammates milling about—made his balls tighten.
He threaded his fingers into Eli's long black curls, gripping tight, and thrust forward, forcing his cock deeper into that willing throat. Eli gagged softly at first, the wet choke vibrating around Lucas's shaft, but he didn't pull back. Instead, he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, spit dripping down his chin as Lucas started fucking his face in earnest.
Each push was rough, hips snapping, the head of his cock bumping the back of Eli's throat. “That's it,” Lucas snarled, voice low and commanding. “Take it all, like a good little bitch.” The words came out harsher than planned, but Eli's eyes watered up at him, big and brown, full of that eager trust that drove Lucas wild.
The gagging grew louder with every thrust—wet, choking sounds that Eli tried to muffle by swallowing around the invading dick. Lucas felt the tight squeeze of Eli's throat convulsing, milking him, and it took everything not to blow right then.
He yanked Eli's hair harder, tilting his head back to angle deeper, watching his own cock disappear between those stretched lips, slick with saliva and pre-cum. The public edge hit Lucas like a spike—any second, someone could bang on the door, catch them like this,Eli on his knees choking on cock while the team waited. Eli pulled off just enough to rasp, voice hoarse and wrecked, “You like that? Fuck my throat harder—gonna make you cum down it.” Spit strung from his lips to Lucas's glistening shaft, his chest heaving under the jersey.
