Bloodsport

chapter 4

Both options were disgustingly hot, and it pissed Harry off even more.

The shit-eating grin, or self-righteous smirk rather, that spread out on Louis’ face was enough to make Harry want to throw his shinpad at his face.

Louis stood there in the middle of the locker room, overwhelmingly almost naked. His voice was like the calm before the storm. “Please do,” he said. He had never sounded as gentle. “I think it would do us all a favour, truly. Imagine the relief for us all. The team, me,” he laughed, “your family —”

Harry pushed him. He pushed him hard and without remorse.

Louis, unexpectant and in the middle of a great monologue, flew back into the nearest wall of lockers. The noise that escaped the metal was loud, echoing against the ceiling. Louis’ breath hitched and he slid down slightly, meanwhile, Harry felt a white-hot urge to bury the boy’s face in the metal.

He approached him deliberately, their teammates nowhere to be found to stop him. This time he would actually kill him.

But Louis was faster this time, hands coming up and pushing Harry back in the chest. Harry tried to grab his arms, but Louis twisted away, squirming feistily and fighting back. Their hands struggled to find purchase against one another, neither of them wearing anything to grab onto. It wasn’t until a few seconds of struggle that Harry noticed an opening, and he lifted his hand to punch Louis in the shoulder. Somehow Louis managed to grasp his wrist, and it thoroughly surprised Harry, the sheer strength the grip inherited. Louis was slimmer and shorter than him, but his hold was unexpectedly firm and forceful. And Louis pulled Harry away from himself.

It pissed him off because he hadn’t expected Louis to be a good fighter. He wasn’t an expert himself, clearly, but from what he’d seen, Louis most definitely wasn’t. He was all mouth and little bite. But now all Harry felt was Louis’ strong hands around himself. He was solid.

In his moment of bewilderment, Louis kneed him in the thigh and he buckled over. But not before grabbing Louis by the arm. In a matter of a second, they fell and landed with heavy exhales against the hard floor, Louis on top of him, instantly scrambling to get off. The fall had forced them into an oddly intimate position; chest on chest, shorts against shorts, legs tangled.

And Louis was warm. Hot. Almost naked.

Something inside of him grasped the steering wheel of his brain, and an odd influx of teenage desire and impulse came over him. He had never been as close to a boy before, and all of it just reaffirmed what he already knew about himself: he liked boys. And Louis was fit. Objectively. And on top of him. He could feel him through his shorts. All of him.

Harry stilled and stopped fighting. He hated Louis, but it seemed even that faded away when his body was reminded that Louis indeed was a boy and indubitably attractive and naked. It took Louis a moment before he realised that Harry wasn’t trying to assault him any longer, but when he did, his movements slowed. Harry’s breaths felt too big for his body, his heart rapidly punching into his throat. He huffed out a large, nervous exhale, squirming slightly under Louis’ weight. He looked up, finding Louis’ eyes staring right back into his.

They were very blue.

For an awfully long, awkward moment, none of them said anything. They were both nearly naked, and Harry couldn’t help it. He could blame it on being a sex-deprived, teenage virgin, but he doubted anyone else wouldn’t have the same reaction to being underneath a naked Louis Tomlinson. Before he knew it and could stop it, he was turning hard.

Instantly, he felt sheer humiliation wash over him, because Louis must have felt it. However, the embarrassment lasted only a second, because he quickly came to realise that… well, Louis wasn’t moving. Louis was silent, breathless, and most of all… he was hard, too.