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It was halftime, the locker room still hummed with the echo of the coach’s voice, sharp instructions lingering in the air like the chalk dust from the board he had been scribbling on. He had just finished running through their tactical adjustments, pointing out weaknesses in Blue Lock’s transitions and the small windows they could exploit in the second half.
With a final nod, he dismissed them to rest, rehydrate, and change out of their sweat-soaked shirts before heading back out.
Hugo wasn’t dissatisfied. A draw at this stage wasn’t a problem; it was an invitation. Blue Lock had a habit of bouncing back quickly, their adaptability impressive for their level, but they were fragile in the right conditions. Press them long enough, isolate the right player, and the structure begins to crack.
Hugo tilted his head back and drank deeply from his bottle as he replayed the half in his mind. Like Loki had said, blowout games were boring anyway. There was no thrill in winning too easily.
His thoughts drifted, predictably, to Loki. His gaze wandered across the room until he found him in the clusters of players peeling off their jerseys.
Loki stood a few rows away, water bottle tipped to his lips, throat moving as he swallowed. Sweat clung to his skin, catching under the fluorescent lights and outlining every line of muscle earned from years of discipline. He looked composed, almost detached, as if the first half had barely required effort from him.
Loki’s eyes flicked up mid-drink and locked onto Hugo’s.
Instead of holding the stare, Loki lowered the bottle and stood. He turned his back and walked to his locker, movements sharper than usual. He pulled the metal door open and reached for a fresh shirt.
Hugo followed without hesitation, drawn by instinct more than intention.
“You were right about Japan,” he said casually, leaning one shoulder against the cold metal beside Loki’s locker.
Loki didn’t respond immediately. He grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it over his head, the fabric dragging up slowly and revealing sweat glistened skin. A thin sheen across his chest and collarbones that made him look almost sculpted under the harsh lights. Hugo eyed him up shamelessly.
“Isagi Yoichi was easy enough to intimidate,” he continued absentmindedly, fixated on Loki’s every movement.
At the mention of Isagi’s name, Loki shoved the discarded jersey into his locker harder than necessary. The metal rattled with a sharp clang that made Hugo flinch.
That reaction wasn’t about the game.
Hugo studied him more carefully now. Loki’s shoulders were tight, jaw set in a way that suggested restraint. It didn’t align with his performance on the field, he barely needed to push himself. If anything, he looked amused.
“Are you going to keep marking him?” Loki asked suddenly, his voice smooth, overly polite in a way that immediately signaled there was an underlying meaning to his words.
“Yes,” Hugo replied, slower this time, watching for another reaction.
“Don’t worry about it,” Loki said as he tugged the clean shirt over his head, fabric stretching briefly across his chest before settling into place. He smoothed it down like nothing was wrong. “I’ll handle him myself.”
That made even less sense.
Hugo frowned slightly. Loki had mentioned there was something personal he needed to settle with Isagi, which is why he had been putting extra pressure on him in the first place. But it’s illogical to switch defensive roles when they need a goal.
“There’s no need to waste your breath on him, I’m close to breaking him down completely.”
Loki let out a short, humorless laugh. “You sure are. You’re giving him the creeps.”
Hugo blinked. He knew that tone. He had heard it cut through strikers twice Loki’s age, watched it reduce defenders to silence, seen it aimed at teammates who overstepped or underperformed.
The tone Loki used when he was reminding someone of the gap between them.
But it had never been directed at him.
“He won’t adapt anytime soon,” Hugo scrambled to explain himself, “I showed him that his ideology is flawed—”
“By feeling him up?” Loki cut in.
For a second, the noise of the locker room seemed to dull. The confusion finally cleared.
Loki’s eyes closed briefly, like he regretted letting that slip. His hand tightened on the edge of the locker before he slammed it shut.
“If you think it’s working, I trust you,” Loki said, composure sliding back into place with practiced ease, but his smile remained impossibly tight.
“I have no doubt we’ll win,” he added as he stepped past Hugo toward the hallway that led to the shower stalls. “Regardless of your… unnecessary techniques.”
Hugo remained where he was, watching him walk away, the realization settling slowly but unmistakably. He glanced around the locker room, casual and composed, making sure no one was paying attention. A few teammates were laughing near the benches, others busy changing or checking their phones. No one noticed Loki slipping away. No one would notice Hugo following.
He waited just long enough to make his own departure look incidental, grabbing his towel before heading toward the hallway with measured steps.
He caught up just as Loki stepped into one of the empty stalls at the far end of the tiled corridor. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, the noise of the locker room fading into a distant blur.
Hugo’s hand shot out, stopping the door before it could close fully.
Hugo stepped inside the stall without asking permission, effectively caging him in the narrow space. One arm braced against the tiled wall near Loki’s head, the other reaching for his hand. He lifted it slowly and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles, a gentle gesture that contrasted with the tension crackling between them.
Now, away from the others, Loki didn’t bother masking anything. His expression was sharper, irritation written plainly across his face.
"Baby, come on," he murmured, voice lowered for him alone. "You know I like to unsettle my opponents."
Loki just stared at him, unconvinced, eyes burning with something that wasn’t just anger.
There was a twisted part of him that wanted to push further, to test how far this rare crack in Loki's composure would go. On and off the field, he was always composed, almost theatrical in the way he wielded confidence. But this was personal. Human.
Hugo couldn’t resist.
“Have you seen him?” Hugo continued lightly, leaning closer so his breath ghosted over Loki’s skin. “It’s too easy to tower over him.”
He brushed his lips over Loki’s hand again, slower this time, eyelashes fluttering in exaggerated innocence, fully aware that he was making it worse.
Loki’s hand was yanked away, and in the same motion he grabbed Hugo by the collar of his jersey, shoving him back a step until his shoulders nearly hit the tile. His golden eyes wide and blazing now, irritation stripped down to something rawer.
“So you are enjoying yourself,” Loki said quietly, dangerously calm. “It would be a shame if an injury prevented you from going back on the field.”
As he spoke, his foot firmly pressed down over Hugo’s, enough to make the threat tangible without actually causing harm.
Hugo’s breath caught, both from pain and the electric rush that followed.
His heart thudded hard against his ribs, heat spreading through his chest at the sheer intensity of Loki’s possessiveness. The edge in his voice, the way he held him there, the unapologetic dominance in his stance, it made something inside Hugo ache with admiration.
He wished he could drop to his knees right there, to kiss every inch of that fury away and make it unmistakably clear that no one else stood in comparison.
But the muffled roar of the stadium beyond the tunnel was a reminder. Less than five minutes before they had to walk back out.
Hugo's chest tightened at the thought, but for now, he pushed it aside, focusing on the man in front of him.
He leaned down and captured Loki's lips in a deep, devouring kiss. Their mouths crashed together with raw hunger, lips parting instantly to allow tongues to tangle.
Loki responded fiercely, as if determined to claim Hugo right back with his mouth alone. The bite turned into a soothing lick, then another suck, Loki's teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he alternated between tender and possessive, marking Hugo's mouth as his territory.
Hugo's palms roamed from Loki's heaving chest, tracing the firm lines of muscle down to his narrow waist. There, he gripped hard, fingers splaying wide to haul Loki's hips up against his own. He ground their bodies together in a slow roll, the friction of their shorts-clad cocks brushing teasingly, sending aftershocks sparking through Hugo's veins. Loki's breath hitched into his mouth, a soft moan vibrating between them.
"You're the only one I enjoy," Hugo pulled back just enough to let the words spill out, hot and breathless against Loki's swollen lips. "Anyone else is just a tactic." To drive the point home, his hands dipped lower, sliding over the curve of Loki's hips to cup his ass firmly. He squeezed the firm flesh with bruising force, pulling Loki's body flush against him once more.
He had to clear all doubts in Loki’s mind. This was nothing like the fleeting, calculated contact on the field with Isagi, but undeniable possession.
Loki melted under the touch, the irritation that had sharpened him minutes ago replaced by softer sounds he clearly wasn’t planning on making. His fingers remained fisted in Hugo’s jersey, holding him there like he wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.
“Whistle soon!” a teammate’s voice echoed from somewhere down the corridor.
Both of them froze for half a second, reality crashing back in.
Hugo's grip softened instantly, his thumbs stroking soothing circles over Loki's skin as he stole one final kiss—a brush of lips that lingered with unspoken tenderness. “I’ll lay off Isagi,” he promised, forehead resting briefly against Loki’s. “Even if it costs us the match.”
Loki’s eyes searched his face for a moment, measuring the sincerity there. Then he stepped back, adjusting his shorts and smoothing his expression into something composed and untouchable again.
“You better.” He said simply. It wasn’t a threat anymore, it was a boundary.
Hugo nodded once, then slipped out toward the tunnel first. His mind was already racing ahead, to the final whistle, to the privacy of their hotel room, to the countless ways he would make it up to Loki.
Seconds later, Loki fell into step beside him, matching his stride with that effortless speed. As if sensing the whirlwind in Hugo's thoughts, Loki bumped his shoulder lightly. "Keep your head in the game," he murmured, a teasing edge to the words, but his eyes held a deeper warmth.
With renewed focus, he stepped into the light, ready to play for their victory.