'I don't remember kissing a man being so nice.', he thought, still locked against Malik. 

Malik's inexperienced. Very inexperienced. His uncertain movements were only corrected by Rhys' steady hand. One hand guiding Malik's shaky fingers to his waist while the other presses against the wall of chest before him.

Rhys hums feeling the hand grip tighten around his waist. Another hand joins the grip and in one pull he is hoisted onto a shelf. The shelf's dusty outer is smeared as Rhys is pushed onto its surface.

That's when the sensible part of his brain kicks in. The part that tells him, 'Are you that horny or you just really into him?'. He moves, breaking the intense kiss, a mind stares at Malik's confused face.

"Malik. Why are you doing this?", Rhys asks. Maybe Malik has an answer.

Malik eyebrows furrowed as Rhys came to expect from him. His hands falling to the red head's lap allowed him a good reason to not look at him and at his crotch.

Almost a year without sex coupled with a hormonal teen sex drive, not to forget a dash of residue pregnancy brain, spelled instant erection no matter how long they kissed. Rhys had the time nor will power to begin patronizing himself. 

He isn't a silly little virgin!

Malik bends his lips in thought, "I need a boyfriend."

"Come again? You need to give me more than that."

Malik, now meeting his eyes, says, "We have a deal with a university coach. He's a dick. Wants to reframe  view of football players. So..gay footballer."

Rhys could only blink in confusion. He can't begin to wrap his traumatized brain around the craziness of that statement. Instead of asking an array of redundant questions, he decides on clearing up what's on his mind.

"So, you are not gay?"

"Don't know."

"Of course you don't…"

"But...I liked kissing you."

"Yeah. Got that a lot."

Maliks grip tightened on his kneecaps. A small wince escapes his mouth causing the grip to falter. 

"What do you get from being the guinea pig in this situation?"

"Scholarship. New donor got connections"

"That's it? I need more than that."

"Fine."

~

It was a normal practice session for the Eastside Eagles Football team. Malik had just finished his warm ups when he saw the principal and coach Lamar walking up to the team. Sandwiched between the two was a man he has never seen before. He had to have been important judging by the unusually tight tie Principal Lewis was wearing and the obsessive wiping Coach Lamar was doing to his shiny egg of a head.

At the blow of a whistle, Coach called us forward. 

"Team. I would like to introduce to you Mr Peter Oats. I'm sure you all would know him but he's a Coach at Bridgeport University's Rhinos."

A melody of intrested hums and mumbles emerged from the team.  Malik remain silent. His eyes following Coach Oat's. From years of being through many orphanages and foster homes, he has developed a very keen eye for certain kinda of looks. This look in particular is not new to him. He has seen it on many prospective parents that came and went out through his life.

He's looking for something. Something specific. 

Someone.

He is looking right at Malik.

Oats leans back and whispers something to the principal. His eyes widened a fraction before another set of eyes focused on him.

"Mr Oats  going to observe y'all practice."

"Pretend like I'm not even there.", Oat's adds in.

Easier said than done for Malik.  Throughout the whole practice he could feel it. The intense burning of holes by Mr Oats. It wasn't until practice concluded that he finally knew why.

They pulled Malik aside. They had the audacity to smile when they told him.

"I believe you, Malik, would make a wonderful addition to the Bridgeport Rhinos!"

"But?"

Mr Oats was caught off guard by the flatness. A nervous chuckle leaked from his thin lips. 

"But, we would like you to be more open about your sexuality."

"What?"

"I was informed by your principal and coach that you are gay."

Malik could have said hell no. He could of stormed off in anger. He could of done lots of not so pleasant things. But he didn't. He just stood there and nod much to the two grown traitors in the back pleasure.

"A person from your background, your looks and personal life would be gold to our team's reputation.", he boasts, giving himself a pat on the back, "However, I feel that it should be more out in the open. Add to its authenticity."

~

"So basically, get a boyfriend or not go to that college. "

"Basically."

"That's stupid. Out of all the colleges why Bridgeport. They are not even that good."

"Because, this is my one shot. Can't afford college myself."

"I don't see why it's important."

That's when the grip got tighter. Not arousingly tight. The almost bone crushingly tight. It was then Rhys realized the illplacment of his words.

Rhys' eyes studied the man. The man is desperately trying to keep his eyes upward. The uneven breathing is all Rhys needs to hear to know his answer.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll be your dang consort.", he says.

Rhys' mind gives a sigh of relief when the grip was gone. With a little discomfort he stalked behind Malik. The man's brown eyes tracking his movements. 

"On one condition ."

"Yes."

"No kissing."

"Yes kissing. Needs to look believable."

"Fuck….fine. We kiss but I am the one to do it not the other way around."

"Fine."

Rhys nods and turns to leave when a hand pulls him back. Rhys is getting tired of being pulled around. Who does Malik think he is. A dang Football to be gripped so tightly. 

"I have one more request."

"You are not in a position to make one. Already asking hell of a lot from me."

"Please."

"Hmm. Only if you handle Ming Lee's diapers for a month. Including the explosive ones."

Malik's nose scrunched in miserable disgust. Nevertheless said, "Fine. I want to be able to hold you."

"Hold me?"

"I don't know. I like touching you."

"Creepy."

"But?"

"No just creepy."

"I'll do it. Really don't want to handle diapers for awhile."

Malik didn't respond. He grip fell from his forearms to his palm. He held it with a gentleness equivalent to a mother's. Rhys couldn't control the heat that bloomed on his face. He would curse himself if he was alone. Curse himself to hell for enjoying this touch.

'Stupid hormones.'