The two young men in the beginning of their twenties left the club's mixed seats section, where crowds were not segregated, still talking animatedly about the football game. Walking among the masses that dispersed after the match, the two slender men, with delicate features, attracted many feminine looks. Few masculine looks too. However, they were oblivious to everything, so focused on each other that the rest of the world was just a blur.
The tallest blond, Lucian, wore a red T-shirt over pink-orange jeans, hands in his pockets, lids half-closed over his green eyes and a mischievous smile on his face. He leaned toward his companion, listening intently to what he said, laughing occasionally or adding sarcastic comments, his slick hair falling in front of his face like a curtain, living only Brendon's figure filling his field of vision.
Direct and excited, Brendon led the conversation with large gestures. He was dressed in the blue uniform of the opposing club, his big black eyes wide open, as if he were watching in front of his eyes the scene he was describing with enthusiasm. His irises were so dark that his pupils were barely visible. His spiky hair was also black, in contrast to the extremely fair skin.
They had met a week earlier, at Cafe Crescent. There they discovered Brendon had just been admitted into the same psychology course that Lucian had been attending for a year. They were unable to stop talking until they had to split up after the Cafe was closed, taking a little longer, changing their contacts.
Lucian was looking forward to seeing Brendon again and thought the football match would be a fun place to get to know him better. He called his good old friend, with whom he had scheduled to go to the game. Telling what was going on, he offered to buy his ticket. The friend, who cared very much for him, was thrilled to learn that he was showing interest in someone. With the candor that only good friends share, he said that although Lucian always posed as cool, he was too insecure and shy when it came to relationships, especially the romantic type. And, therefore, a football stadium was not the best place for a meeting.
"I don't want to create expectations for a romantic date." A public, controlled environment can be the best. I'm not even sure how I'm going to feel when I meet him again, "Lucian explained.
Then, his friend agreed to donate the precious ticket on the condition that, as payment, Lucian had to "relax and move on". Lucian replied that he would do as he pleased. The friend retorted that if he were always so demanding, he would end up like a lone auntie, surrounded only by cats.
Lucian immediately called Brendon. He simply said he had a spare ticket and invited him to the game.
Brendon immediately accepted. However, realizing that it had been too easy, he commented on how much he wanted to go to that match and how lucky he was to be invited since the tickets were sold out. Only then, he wandered if Lucian supported the other team. Brendon asked which section they were going to. Lucian did indeed root for the other team, but the tickets were for the mixed crowd section. Silently, he sighed with relief, he wouldn't need to wear the colors of the opposing team. After they hung up, he hurried to post to his group of football fans that he had a ticket left over to pass on.
Thinking about Lucian cheering for the other team, Brendon soon had a lascivious idea.
After the match, moving away from the stadium, Brendon was in a very good mood because his team had won. He took every opportunity to provoke Lucian, bringing up the subject again and again. The supporter of the red team pretended to be angry and responded by ruffling Brendon's hair, shooing him off and slapping his buttocks. Under the club's blue uniform, there were lean, firm muscles, a pleasure to look at and touch. Lucian was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his hands away, always putting them firmly in his pockets.
Coquettish Brendon turned to the window of a parked car to rearrange his carefully messy hair. Concealed, he checked the other young man's reflection and amused himself. The tall blonde was looking at him with a wolf smile, almost drooling.
A drizzle started to fall and Brendon sang:
—Raindrops keep falling on my head...
He stretched his arms over his head, palms up as if trying to catch those raindrops while doing pirouettes. Lucian chased after him trying to grab his waist, his hands freed again from the pocket prisons, but Brendon dodged smartly until they both had to bend over panting and laughing.
"You have a swing!" Lucian said breathlessly.
"Ah, I attended ballet classes," Brendon replied nonchalantly.
-Seriously?
Lucian's mind was taken with the image of the black-haired boy in a completely pink ballerina outfit, from the tutu to the pointe shoes with ribbon straps, making feminine movements. He shook his head, finding the idea a little fun and very exciting.
"Yeah, I know," the other replied deflated, mistaking the reason for Lucian's reaction.
Brendon's smile had faded and he walked with his hands behind his back.
Lucian felt guilty. Wanting to encourage the other, he tried to provoke:
"You must have met a lot of handsome men back then."
Only when he had finished speaking did he notice where that comment came from: a fit of green, burning jealousy. He looked sideways to see what would appear on the younger man's features.
"Oh yeah! Many!" Brendon had regained his luster. "The Nutcracker, Rothbart, and even a male black swan, not to mention several princes ..." This time, he was not mistaken about what Lucian was feeling. "What do you think? Ballet dancers practice a lot. There's no time for orgies."
Brendon continued, seriously:
"My best friend was a ballet dancer so good that he became a professional. Only, his father never accepted, even punched him in the face once. This is how it happens with prejudice, there is nothing to gain, but much to lose."
Finally, they reached the parking lot where Lucian had left the car. It was already dark and the open space was deserted. The asphalt, wet from the light rain that came and went all day, reflected the orange lights of the high poles scattered among the parked cars. Lucian felt it was beautiful, listening to Brendon's voice filling the space like a warm flow, still talking about prejudice.
Lucian's tingling feeling about Brendon had grown to a desire that was hard to ignore. He warned himself, again, not to act impulsively. He needed to take things slowly if he wanted to avoid getting hurt. He closed his eyes. Something about the younger man appealed deeply to what he struggled so hard to control. However, it also made him feel tender and caring. He could definitely fall in love with this witty young man.
Since his eyes were closed, Lucian didn't see the subtle vibration that touched Brendon's black lashes when he heard Lucian sigh.
They reached the car. Lucian was fishing for the key in his pocket, still listening to what Brendon was saying.
"In my view, hooligans are just repressed fags who want an excuse to touch other men."
He leaned against the car, looking directly into Lucian's eyes. Without changing his casual tone, he added:
"On the other hand, as open and reasonable gay men, we can simply agree among ourselves that the one whose team has won has the right to fuck the other."
Brendon, let the silence fall while, smiling, he waited for Lucian to realize the meaning of what he had said. The blonde stood there frozen, eyes wide. When Brendon heard the sound of the car key falling to the floor, that tall, lean body was pressing him against the car.
"Do you want to fuck me?" The tall blond's voice was a low growl.
After all, the blue team had won the score.
Although Lucian could feel the body underneath trembling against his, Brendon's voice was calm, even mild, yet provocative:
"Yes, a lot."
With his fingertips, Brendon placed a lock of Lucian's hair behind his ear, making the gesture become a caress, in stark contrast to the other's harshness.
Their breaths mixing heavily in the small space that separated their mouths, Lucian plunged hard over those tempting lips, parting them with his tongue, unrestrained. A voice in Lucian's head recalled the resolution to go slow, but it was completely obstructed by the feelings provoked by Brendon's hands pulling on the back of his neck, wishing for more. One of Brendon's legs went up to Lucian's back waist and twisted over Lucian's buttocks, trapping him, pulling him into an even tighter embrace where their pelvis met.
