Not In the NFL

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

The party was in full swing. Adam usually gave a party after a game, win or lose. While the whole team was invited, it was generally understood Adam gave these parties to thank his offensive line and receivers. He knew without their efforts his reputation as a superstar QB would be erased. He lived or died on their play. He knew that a quarterback not in the good graces of his offensive line could easily be sabotaged with just a missed block here or there. So, despite the facts that his line had let him be sacked, hurried and hit several times and that his receivers had dropped passes and missed routes, a win this big was reason enough to celebrate even in light of such errors.

The penthouse suite of the Mustangs’ hotel was rocking: loud music, full service bar and rowdy, happy football players were making for an intense celebration. The team’s cheerleading squad had not attended this away game, so there were fewer than the usual number of female companions for the men. Some of them had found ‘dates’ among the team’s groupies that seemed to turn up at every game no matter which city they played in.

Adam was glad his girlfriend, Brenda, had not come on this trip. He was getting tired of her anyway and her constant pressing him for a commitment of some sort. Without her here he was feeling a sense of freedom.

Adam was leaning against the bar talking with Dean, his go-to receiver, discussing some of his missed passes when there was a commotion in the large living room near the door.

“Hey, man!” he heard one guy call out.

“What the f**k. You got some nerve crashin’ our party,” another could be heard, laughing as he said it.

Adam turned to see Brendan Fletcher making his way into the crowd. There was a general camaraderie in the NFL. Most of the players were friends with each other, had even played together in college, and the protests at the presence of a player from the opposing team at the celebration were mainly good natured and carried no real animosity.

The teasing and taunting continued as Brendan made his way through the men and their dates. He came up to the bar and held out his hand to Adam.

“Heard what you said in that post game show,” he said smiling, his perfect white teeth gleaming in the bar light. “Can’t wait to bring it on.” He squeezed the hand Adam had placed in his.

Adam was taken aback, but before he could say anything Brendan added, “Just wanted to congratulate you on a great game. You really showed what you were made of today,” he said. His voice carried genuine warmth.

“Thanks, Brendan,” Adam responded, feeling the strength in his grip. “You played a good game yourself. Almost single-handedly dismantled my game plan.”

Brendan smiled. “Yeah, but you got me in those last two minutes. And that run for the two-pointer. s**t, totally caught me by surprise. I was sure you were looking to pass to Dean.” He turned and smiled in the receiver’s direction.

Adam realized they were still holding hands. He self-consciously let go of Brendan, who turned and took up the conversation with Dean. Feeling a bit uneasy for reasons he couldn’t fully put into words, Adam left the two to their discussion and made his way through the revelers, accepting their congratulations and thanks while at the same time giving his own back to the men.

Adam made his way to the john, went in and took a piss. Standing in front of the mirror, he splashed a little cool water on his face. The door opened behind him and Brendan walked in, locked the door and proceeded to the toilet where he unzipped his pants, took out his d**k and began to urinate.

“Thanks for the privacy,” Adam said.

“Hey, you're the one who didn't lock the door,” Brendan chuckled.

Adam glanced down at Brendan's c**k as it emitted its golden stream. He felt something akin to a swoop in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the man's impressive equipment. He raised his eyes and saw Brendan had caught him looking. He turned back to the mirror, blushed, and pretended to check his face by rubbing his chin.

Brendan walked up behind him. Adam turned to face him. Brendan was taller than Adam's six foot three by an inch or two and probably outweighed him by twenty pounds. Broad shouldered and deep-chested, Brendan was a beautiful specimen of manhood. Right now his handsome face, with its deep brown eyes and ready smile was inches from Adam's. Adam could smell the alcohol on his breath. He felt the swoop again.

Hang on, why am I thinking this? I’m straight!

“No harm in checking out what the competition’s got,” Brendan said in a low husky voice as he reached out and fondled Adam's hardening c**k through his khakis. Putting his other hand behind Adam's head, Brendan pulled the quarterback toward him. Before Adam fully realized what was happening, Brendan was kissing him, Adam was opening his mouth, and allowing Brendan's tongue to caress his. At the same time as the men embraced, Brendan's hands slid down and pressed the flesh of Adam's firm, muscular ass.

“Whoa!” Adam cried out, breaking the connection, pushing Brendan back. “What the f**k are you doin'?”

“What I think you want me to do.” Brendan smiled, putting his hand back on Adam's shoulder.

“What the f**k gives you that idea?” Adam said, pushing the hand off of him.

Brendan merely smiled, turned to the mirror and brushed his thick, dark brown hair into place with his hand. “You'll figure that out one of these days.”

Adam was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, you gonna be in there all night? I gotta go,” a deep voice said that Adam recognized as coming from Ashanti Peters, one of the offensive tackles.

Adam felt a wave of panic sweep over him. This guy was one of the biggest homophobes on the team: always preaching about how faggots would burn in hell, and making disparaging remarks whenever he saw anyone he thought might be a homosexual.

“Keep your pants zipped!” Brendan called out. “It's gonna take as long as it's gonna take, man. Go use the can in the master bedroom.”

“Randy's in there with a couple a groupies, dude!”

“Then politely say 'excuse me' as you walk by,” Brendan told him.

“f**k!” the lineman said. Adam could hear him retreating down the hall, cursing loudly.

Adam let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was trembling all over, half from the intense s****l arousal that still permeated his body and half from the fear of near exposure.

Brendan, still smiling, kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked to the door.

“Think about it, babe,” he said and left the room.

Adam raised his hand to the place where Brendan's kiss still lingered.

Think about it? What does that mean?

Adam took a steadying breath. After waiting long enough for his hard c**k to relax and to make sure no one would see him come out so soon after Brendan, he left the bathroom.

* * * *

Adam lay on his back on the king-sized bed with its satin sheets in the master bedroom of his suite. As an all star QB he was entitled to private quarters. He had left the party shortly after the incident in the john with Brendan. He told everyone to have a good time and thanked them again for their great play. He was in no mood to party anymore after what had happened, and didn’t want to run into Brendan again.

Returning to his own room he had showered and gone to bed, all the while trying not to think about what had transpired in the penthouse bathroom. Was the thing he was trying to avoid thinking about the very thing Brendan had wanted him to think about? And why had he called him ‘babe’? Wasn’t that some sort of term of endearment among gay men?

“f**k!” he said aloud as he tossed and turned.

He had thought about jacking off. That usually relieved the tension after a game if he didn’t have Brenda with him to get him off. But, as soon as he had started, the only images that came to mind were those of Brendan and what they had done.

Adam couldn’t let himself think of stuff like that. Gay guys didn’t survive—not in the NFL.

He wasn’t gay and wasn’t gonna do anything that might give guys like Ashanti any reason to accuse him. There was that player on one of the other teams. He remembered reading about him. Rumors started floating around that he was gay. Stuff began to appear on blogs. He had supposedly been outed by an alleged ex-lover. He had hired a lawyer to fight the rumors. They were found to be unfounded. Nonetheless, the damage was done and life was hell for the guy. The talk around Adam’s team locker room was vicious. The things the men said they would do to a ‘faggot’ if they found out one of them was playing on their team were frightening. That wasn’t going to happen to him.

And what about Brendan? Was he gay? Or had he just had too much to drink? Adam had heard someone somewhere say the only difference between a straight and a gay man was a couple of drinks.

But the handshake that lingered too long before Brendan had had anything to drink? The kiss as he left the bathroom? Calling him ‘babe’?

These questions kept bringing him back to the very thought he was trying to avoid: his intense response to the man as Brendan held him in his arms. And so the cycle continued into the early hours until finally he fell asleep.