“Not tonight, Tomlinson.”
Louis isn't the type to take offense easily but he feels it as he stands in the office doorway, shirtless and ready. He’s not used to getting turned down. He usually gets what he wants and right now it’s attention.
“Are you sure?” He cocks his hip to the side and trails a hand down his chest and towards the elastic of his shorts.
He doesn’t mind playing dirty.
Coach Greg James finally looks away from his computer screen and takes in the sight of his student pointedly waiting for a reaction. Predictably, Greg drops whatever he's doing and pushes his chair back. The hunger in his eyes sends a shockwave from Louis’ brain to his cock.
“We have to make this quick. I’m not done entering grades.”
Louis works on autopilot the moment he steps forward and locks the door behind himself. He steps out of the rest of his kit and toes off his cleats. Coach meanwhile unbuttons his own trousers and reveals his cock, already growing in anticipation.
Louis licks his lips.
~ ~ ~
Walking home with a slight waddle does nothing to his dignity. He loves it. He knows that tomorrow he’ll be so sore it’ll be hard to sit through class and not think about his secret arrangement with the hottest and youngest staff member at his university. He gets fucked whenever he wants and still gets to be captain of the football team. The greatest thing is that absolutely no one suspects what’s going on. It’s the best prank Louis has ever pulled.
Louis was recruited straight out of sixth form. A scholarship was offered to him and he couldn’t be happier to accept it, knowing that his mum couldn't afford a single year of tuition.
One day Coach James was nothing more than a figure of authority, yelling along the sidelines during practice and sharing his best knowledge of the sport. Then the next thing Louis knew, he was being watched with much more attention than necessary. He’d catch wandering eyes on his thighs or his bum—especially his bum—and would feel heat rush through his entire being. Most times he tried to ignore it and focus on his footie skills but other times he basked in the attention and sent inconspicuous winks over his shoulder. It started off as a joke.
It was late one night. They beat the University of Essex by several points and Louis had scored the final goal quite effortlessly despite the opposing defenders trying to psych him out. He spent so much time getting congratulated by his teammates and the crowd that came down from the bleachers, he ended up being the last to shower in the locker room. He’d been passing by Coach’s office with a towel wrapped low around his waist, water dripping everywhere. They made heavy eye contact and without any words or grace, Louis met Coach halfway, getting shoved up against a wall and getting the best sex of his life. Granted he didn’t have much experience before that night, which he never bothered to mention.
It was still the best.
~ ~ ~
“Lou! You’re on the blog again!” Niall shouts from his bedroom, across the way from Louis’ in their shared dormitory. “They somehow always get a great fuckin’ photo of you!” He whistles.
Louis hasn’t risen from bed yet despite having a class to attend in less than an hour. He clicks on the link Niall sent him and skims through a review of last night’s game. It was a friendly match and won’t do much to count towards their impending victory. It still sucks they lost by two points. The headline reads, “Oh No Tomlinson! Striker No Striking!”
He rolls his eyes because as always, the unidentified blogger is using one of their ridiculous puns to irk Louis. At least the photo beneath the headline favors him nicely. Louis’ thighs look powerful as they flex while he aims to steal the ball from his opponent. His eyes look icy and fierce, jawline sharp.
His best friend has been obsessed with this unofficial school website since they were freshmen and has made it his life mission to figure out who runs it. He’s narrowed it down to three people but Louis can’t recall any of their names. Maybe he’ll tune in the next time Niall rants about the whole ordeal.
Louis is used to being featured on the blog. It happens more often than not and sometimes it feels like they’re trying to pull his proverbial pigtails. He could care less.
He scrolls down to the end of the article and gives it a thumbs down. There are already ninety-five thumbs up and it has only been published for an hour. God, he hates his gossip-hungry classmates.
~ ~ ~
There's a party that weekend. A friend of a teammate invited Louis so naturally he drags Niall along with him. It's a full house. They stick together and line up for the keg. A drunk girl spills her drink over Louis’ chest. She offers to mop it up with her tongue but he politely turns her in the opposite direction and gives her a little push. She disappears in the crowd.
“You have the best luck, mate,” Niall comments.
“I know. Get me a drink, please? I need to scrub this shit before it stains.”
He finds an empty loo and peels off his grey shirt to scrub it in the sink. He's concentrating so hard and mentally cursing the girl that he doesn't notice the door swing open. He also doesn't notice he's being watched until a flash captures his attention. He turns and finds a boy with long limbs and a pretty face leaning against the doorway. A camera hangs from a strap around his neck.
“Did you take a fucking photo of me?” Louis twists his dripping shirt and aims it at his head. The boy lifts his camera quickly and takes consecutive photos just as he dodges Louis’ shirt.
“You embody anger very well. Have you modeled before?”
Louis’ cheeks heat up. “What is your fucking problem?!”
“What? Has no one ever told you that you photograph well?” Camera Boy smirks as if he thinks Louis will fall for his cockiness.
“Oh, geeze. Please excuse my friend here. He's very drunk.” A boy with a buzz cut and nice biceps appears. His thick eyebrows are drawn together as he tugs on his friend’s arm. “Come on, mate.”
“I am not drunk. I am talking to my new friend.”
“I'm not your friend,” Louis says, arms crossing over his chest. He's starting to feel uncomfortable standing shirtless in a stranger’s house.
Biceps pulls Camera Boy away, despite his weak protests, and just like that they're gone.
Louis picks up his wet shirt and searches for Niall. He's had enough of this night. He runs into a couple of acquaintances and tries to keep their conversations short.
Niall's in the middle of a beer pong match when Louis finally finds him.
“Can we go?”
Niall glances at Louis’ bare chest and then at the ping pong ball in his hand and then at his opponent whom happens to be very good looking. Wow. Louis wonders why he hasn't seen him before. His hair is styled artfully and his entire face has been sculpted by gods. His eyelashes fan over his pretty eyes nicely. Louis is entranced.
“Yeah, I guess someone can sub for me,” Niall concedes. He looks around for someone to take his spot but Louis stops him. He'd like to hang around this perfect specimen just a little longer.
~ ~ ~
They leave the party around two in the morning. Louis doesn't have a new phone number in his pocket so he's bummed. Niall is drunkenly chipper, singing Irish jigs no one would ever recognize. It's a night Louis will hardly look back on when he's done with university.
He does however wonder about the jerk who photographed him. He'd like to see him again and demand an explanation along with a decent apology and proof those photos have been deleted. That's all he wants from him.