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A beat passed as he rubbed his jaw, contemplating his next move. His eyes flashed down at the slippery soap bar near the drain. He bent down to retrieve it with ease and then offered it to me.

“Relax. What guy hasn’t accidentally looked a time or two,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. His smile was all teeth. “There’s no shame in it.”

Looking back on this moment with hindsight, this was the turning point. This was Jason offering me an out.

Except he was wrong. There was a degree of shame in it, because the moment people found out the truth, you couldn’t go back in the closet.

Some guys couldn’t stand the idea of sharing a locker room with someone who wasn’t straight.

I had no reason to believe Jason wasn’t one of those guys, so I figured if I just played dumb about what he was insinuating, then maybe he would let it go.

Maybe after being humbled by my slipup, he would consider us even.

I snatched the soap out of his hands and shifted away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled to the tile wall.

Except Jason had no interest in letting this go.

“C’mon. I was watching you,” he teased. “You tilted your head earlier. You were checking me out.”

“As if I would ever! Why the hell were you watching me anyways?” I snapped my head to the side, mindful to keep my eyes fixed on his. “Mind your own business.”

“Or what,” he growled, stepping closer into my space, “you’ll elbow me in the face again?”

I gawked at him. “You’re really holding a grudge over something that happened years ago? That was an accident!”

“Yeah.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure.”

“It was! I would never deliberately hurt someone, asshole, even you.”

Where did this guy get off? If he was salty over one accidental elbow, then I deserved to open my own Himalayan salt mine for all the times he wasn’t called on a foul during games. Injuries happened, but none of them were intentional.

Jason stared me down—or rather up at me, to his chagrin. I had a few inches on him, and now more than ever, our minor height difference turned me into a smug little shit.

“You’re not the first guy to get a black eye during a game, Alvarez.”

“Only a dirty player throws elbows.”

“It was an accident! I’d tell you to get off your high horse, but it’s more of a miniature.”

“If you want to gloat over some inches that don’t actually matter, be my guest.” Jason laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not surprised you’re focused on making size comparisons.”

My face flushed in embarrassment and rage. The absolute nerve of this guy! He wasn’t even that much bigger than me.

“You immature asshole!” I yelled, chucking the bar of soap at him. “Our dicks are the same size!”

Jason didn’t flinch as the soap bounced off his pecs and landed on the tile floor yet again. Instead, he cocked a brow, and his eyes flashed down between us.

That’s when I realized my mistake. He hadn’t been referring to our dicks. His comment had been in reference to his height, but I was so blinded by my own anger and pride, I assumed he had been talking about something much more personal.

“You sure about that?” He taunted, hand on his hip.

I rolled my eyes, but deep down I was scrambling for a way to turn this around. “Of course you’d turn our rivalry into a literal dick measuring contest.”

“I wasn’t, but you brought it up. So go ahead,” he said, shrugging. “Measure it for yourself.”

In any other context, Jason’s suggestion might’ve thrown me for a loop.

I was conflicted, torn between taking the bait and backing down.

Some part of me had always wanted the opportunity to get my hands on a guy in a context other than basketball, but I never once thought the chance would play out like this: naked in a shower with my longtime rival.

I tried searching Jason’s features for an answer, but he gave nothing away. Was this a joke? What was going on?

When Jason gestured down to himself, my breath caught in my throat. There was no doubt in my mind this was more than just a challenge. This was an outright invitation.

I wasn’t a coward. I reached for his dick, and all the air was sucked out of the showers.

A hush fell between us, the sound of water smacking tile overwhelming.

I blinked down at him and blushed from a startling realization: I couldn’t even get my whole hand around his length.

It was heavy, uncut, warm, and what the fuck , he wasn’t even erect and he was this massive.

“They need to be side by side so you can see the difference for yourself, Matty.”

Before I could process what Jason was implying, his hand was wrapping around my own length, fingers circling it with ease. He tugged me closer and lined the two of us up, and the contrast couldn’t be denied: Jason was bigger than me in every way.

“Maybe you were top dog on the court today, but I think it’s obvious who’s on top here.”

I shivered, overwhelmed by how good it felt to have someone else's fingers exploring me. His hold on me was gentle, and the slightest shift made me audibly gasp and turn pink from more than just the hot water.

“I think it’s about time you admitted what we’ve both known all along.”

What was Jason talking about? Were we still beefing over the game, or were we keeping score over something else?

I blinked at him, confused. “That… That you’re a sore loser?”

Jason grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look at him. I should have pushed him away, but then his thumb started stroking along my lips. The taste of my own cock lingered on his finger, salty but not off-putting. I’d never been so bold as to taste my own cum in the past.

Jason laughed, eyes darkening. “You’re lucky I’ve always wanted to tame a smart-mouthed brat.”

“That’s funny coming from the guy who’s—”

But just as I was about to finish my snarky comment, I moaned from Jason burying a hand into my wet blonde hair and tugging hard enough to force my neck to arch back.

He licked a bead of water near the knot in my throat with the tip of his tongue.

When he took hold of my length again, my cock twitched, growing hard and full in the tight vice of his palm.

I rocked into him, desperate for friction, and Jason hummed in appreciation, satisfied with my response.

“Rumor has it you don’t get around much. You work all week, then you’re busy playing ball all weekend.” His teeth scraped my neck, and I gasped. “You’re not big on the dating scene. No past girlfriends, boyfriends...”

I blushed in embarrassment. How the hell did he know any of this? Why would he care about my personal life?

“Maybe no one’s ever been Mr. Right. Maybe you tell yourself you’re too busy to waste your time, but maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

Jason’s voice was as low as a whisper, but it somehow seemed to echo off the tile. If someone else was nearby, they would’ve heard him and everything he was suggesting.

“Either way, it's no wonder you’re wound up so tight.”

I swallowed thickly. “You… You don’t know anything about me.”

Jason smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong, Matt,” he purred. “I know more than you realize.”

My mind was too clouded by desire to dig further into what he was implying.

He was pressed into me, leaving little space between our bodies.

I had never let someone handle me the way I was letting Jason, falling under his spell with ease.

This close, I could smell the spiced soap he must’ve used before I joined him, rich, heady, and tempting.

“Let’s help you relax a little,” he said, hand loosening in my hair. “Go ahead. Stroke me.”

It was a command, and without thinking, my hand moved on its own accord, running along his length in tentative, slow movements.

It was like his order had flipped a switch inside my brain before I could use proper judgment.

My pulse quickened, and my lips parted when I glanced down and saw he had begun to harden in my palm.

Jason was either so full of himself he didn’t care who was touching him so long as someone was touching him, or he was into guys touching him.

This wasn’t two men from opposite teams taking a petty rivalry to a new inappropriate level—or maybe it was from the permanent smirk on his perfect face. He seemed to be enjoying my attention.

“That’s right,” he encouraged, dark eyes half-lidded. “Use both hands. Get me nice and hard.”

Using two hands was the right suggestion.

I needed both just to get a real hold on him.

Watching him get hard was an out-of-body experience.

Touching him while he touched me was so different than just touching myself alone.

Hearing his every response, seeing him flex his muscles beside me, feeling his warm breath on my skin, his clean smell—it was overwhelming.

Yeah, Jason definitely liked this. He was breathing hard like he was out on the court, and he was rocking his hips into my hands with his eyes unmoving from mine.

His own hand began to move faster around me, coaxing little sounds I’d never made before in the presence of another human being.

I tried to match his pace, to time my movements with his so we could be in-sync.

My inhibition waned as it became clear he was far more experienced than me.

I found myself wanting to let him show me how to pleasure another man properly.

I couldn’t believe how my body was reacting.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this—jacking another guy off, that said guy was Jason…

that I was glad it was him. He was murmuring encouragement and praise into my ear, telling me how to touch him, how much pressure to use, and I was eagerly following his every suggestion, waiting on bated breath for him to tell me I was doing it right.

Every nerve ending across my skin was on fire, with goosebumps rising on my arms despite the overwhelming steamy heat inside the shower.