I've spent years dodging rules on the field.
Chasing glory.
Hiding the cracks that no championship can fill.
But him? The man who's supposed to own every play, every drill, every damn second of our sweat-soaked lives. He's the one unraveling.
It started in the steam.
That haze clinging to the benches, lockers gleaming cold under the haze. His eyes caught mine after a win, sharp and starving, like he'd been waiting lifetimes for someone to call his bluff. I did. Pushed him back against the metal, his breath hitching as the team filtered out slow. Too slow. One hand on his throat, the other claiming what's mine. His control? Gone. Melted into slick, yielding skin that begs for more, even as he fights it.
He hates how good it feels.
The fortress of his isolation cracking under my mouth, my grip, my orders whispered low enough for echoes to carry. Public. Watched. The thrill of it twists us both - his career on the line, my spot on the roster dangling like a noose. Fingers tracing the scars he hides under that coach's armor, in victory's hush where tenderness slips through the dominance. Every thrust against those lockers brands us deeper. Deeper than team loyalty. Deeper than rivalry's glare.
But surrender's a paradox for a man like him.
Needing my chaos to feel alive, yet terrified it'll torch his world - the wins, the respect, the empire he's built. I'm his temptation wrapped in defiance, the vulnerability he masks with commands now turned to pleas. What if one witnessed slip ends it all? Or worse - what if pulling back breaks us first?
A full-length gay age gap maledom power exchange exhibitionism erotic romance featuring a haunted coach and his defiant star athlete.
