Chapter 2: Stolen Moments Between Practices
The polished wood of the soccer field was a furnace under the midday sun. Hyukjae dribbled the ball down the sideline, his cleats biting into the turf, the roar of his teammates and the coach’s bark fading into a dull background hum. All he could think about was Gabby’s mouth, her taste, the way she’d looked at him over the rim of her wine glass. The memories were a loop playing behind his eyes, slick and distracting.
When the coach’s whistle finally shrieked for a water break, it was a relief. Hyukjae jogged to the sideline, grabbing his bottle and dousing his head, the cold water a temporary shock to his system. He leaned against the bleachers, trying to slow his breathing.
“Earth to Hyukjae.”
He blinked. Gabby stood a few yards away, just beyond the chain-link fence separating the soccer field from the cheerleading practice area. She was in her practice gear—a sleeveless top and tiny, glittering shorts that showcased every impossible curve. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat, and she looked like the sun personified.
“Noona,” he said, his voice rough. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Her smile was a secret just for him. “Got a minute? I need a spotter for a new lift. Kwan hurt his wrist.”
It was a transparent lie. Her eyes told him the real story. The same heat that was coiling in his gut was reflected in her gaze. He glanced at his coach, who was busy yelling at the midfielders. “Yeah. Sure. Just a minute.”
He ducked through the gate and followed her across the concrete walkway towards the gymnasium. The cheerleading practice space was vast, echoing with the shouts of other squad members practicing tumbles and the rhythmic slaps of their shoes on the mats. The air smelled of chalk, vinyl, and Gabby’s vanilla-citrus perfume.
She didn’t lead him to the mats. Instead, she veered towards a heavy door labeled `EQUIPMENT` in block letters. She pushed it open and slipped inside, her hand reaching back to grab his wrist, pulling him in after her.
The door clicked shut, plunging them into near-darkness. A single high window let in a dusty shaft of light, illuminating stacked mats, old bleacher sections, and shelves of discarded pompoms. The air was thick with the smell of old foam and dust.
“Spotter, huh?” Hyukjae whispered, his back against the door.
Gabby was already on him, her hands fisting in his damp practice jersey, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, desperate. “I’ve been watching you run for an hour,” she breathed between kisses, her hands sliding under his jersey, tracing the muscles of his stomach. “It was torture. I need you. Now.”
All coherent thought evaporated. He spun them, pressing her against a tower of folded mats that groaned under their weight. His hands were on her ass, lifting her, and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shorts.
“Someone could come in,” he gasped, even as he ground himself against her core, the friction making them both shudder.
“Then you better be quick,” she challenged, her voice low and filthy. She rocked against him, a slow, maddening roll of her hips. “Unless you can’t.”
That was all the provocation he needed. His control, always so tenuous around her, snapped. He yanked at the waistband of her shorts and her underwear, pulling them down just far enough. He fumbled with the zip of his own track pants, freeing his aching cock. He was already slick at the tip.
There was no finesse, no gentle easing. He guided himself to her entrance, found her soaking wet, and pushed into her in one hard, deep thrust.
She cried out, a sharp sound muffled against his shoulder, her back arching. She was so tight, so incredibly hot and slick around him. He didn’t wait, didn’t pause. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, driving pace right from the start.
The mats shifted behind her with every thrust. The only sounds were their ragged breathing, the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies joining, and the soft creak of the equipment. It was crude, raw, stolen.
“Fuck, Gabby,” he grunted, his forehead resting against hers. “You feel so goddamn good.” He hooked his hands under her thighs, spreading her wider, angling deeper. Each plunge hit a spot that made her gasp.
“Harder,” she pleaded, her nails digging into his back through his jersey. “Don’t you dare hold back.”
He obeyed, pounding into her with the same focused intensity he used on the field. The pleasure was a sharp, coiling wire in his gut, pulling tighter with every frantic stroke. She was meeting him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into the small of his back, urging him on. Her breasts rubbed against his chest through their thin tops, her nipples hard peaks.
“Yeah, right there, right there, fuck me,” she chanted, her words breaking on a sob as another climax began to build, triggered by the sheer, relentless force of him. “I’m gonna come, Hyukjae, don’t stop—”
The door swung open.
Bright light from the gym flooded the closet, silhouetting a figure in the doorway. Hyukjae froze, buried deep inside Gabby, his body screaming in protest at the sudden stop. Gabby stiffened in his arms, her face a mask of shock over his shoulder.
“Gabby? I thought I saw you—Oh my god.”
It was Min-ji. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood frozen, taking in the scene: Gabby’s shorts tangled around her thighs, Hyukjae’s pants down around his hips, their bodies locked together, sweat-slicked and trembling.
For a second, no one moved. The world narrowed to the three of them and the heavy, panting silence.
Hyukjae felt a wave of nausea, part shame, part adrenaline. He carefully, slowly, eased himself out of Gabby, the separation feeling obscenely loud in the quiet. He quickly pulled his pants up, his hands shaking.
Gabby, however, recovered faster. She wriggled, pulling her shorts back into place with a defiant jerk. She slid off the mats, her legs unsteady, and turned to face her friend, though she stayed close to Hyukjae, her arm brushing his.
“Min-ji,” Gabby said, her voice surprisingly level.
“What are you doing?” Min-ji hissed, stepping fully into the closet and letting the door swing mostly shut, leaving them in the dim, dusty light. “Here? Anyone could have walked in!”
“We didn’t,” Gabby shot back, a flicker of her old defiance returning. “You did.”
Min-ji’s gaze darted between them, landing on Hyukjae. He felt judged, laid bare. “Hyukjae,” she said, her tone softer but no less urgent. “Is this… Are you two serious?”
He found his voice, rough with recent use. “Yes.” It was the simplest, truest thing.
“It’s been a week!” Min-ji exclaimed, her concern breaking through. “Gabby, you’ve never… you told me you were waiting for something real. Is this real? A quick fuck in a storage closet?”
“It’s not like that,” Gabby said, but her cheeks flushed.
“Then what is it like?” Min#### pressed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re risking a lot for a secret hookup. Your reputation, for one. His.” She glanced at Hyukjae again. “The team has rules about fraternization, you know. If Coach Park finds out…”
“He won’t,” Gabby said, but the confidence wavered.
Hyukjae reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Her skin was hot. “It’s not a secret,” he said, looking directly at Min-ji. “Not from people who matter. We’re together.”
Min-ji stared at their joined hands, her expression softening slightly, then hardening again with worry. “Together,” she repeated. “Okay. Fine. But together people usually go on dates. They don’t screw in closets during practice.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I’m your friend. I’m happy if you’re happy. But be careful. This… this has a lot of eyes on it. Your parents. The school. The social media gossips. You’re Gabby Walker. He’s Lee Hyukjae, the rising star midfielder. It’s a story.”
The weight of her words settled in the dusty air. The passion of moments before had curdled into something more complicated, more dangerous.
“We’ll be careful,” Gabby said, squeezing Hyukjae’s hand.
Min-ji nodded slowly. “You better be.” She turned to leave, then paused at the door. “And for god’s sake, at least lock the door next time.” She slipped out, leaving them alone again in the dim, charged silence.
The aftermath was a cold splash of reality. Hyukjae leaned back against the mats, the adrenaline draining away, leaving a hollow ache. Gabby rested her forehead against his chest.
“Well,” she murmured. “That was…”
“Intense,” he finished.
She looked up at him, a wry smile touching her lips. “I was going to say ‘stupid.’ But yeah.”
He kissed the top of her head. “She’s right, though. About being careful.”
“I know.” Gabby pulled back, her expression serious. “I don’t care about the gossip. But your team…”
“I’ll handle it.” He didn’t know how, but the thought of hiding her, of pretending this wasn’t the most important thing that had ever happened to him, was worse than any threat. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, then a genuine smile broke through. “Yeah. I am. A little… well, a lot interrupted. But okay.” She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, chaste compared to their earlier fever. “We should get back.”
They straightened their clothes in silence. As they stepped out of the closet, the bright lights and noise of the gym felt like an assault. The world outside their hidden room was still spinning, oblivious and demanding.
Hyukjae walked back to the soccer field, the sun feeling colder now. He could still feel her around him, still taste her on his lips. Min-ji’s warning echoed in his head, a counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. He had her. He had this. And he knew, with a certainty that was both thrilling and terrifying, that he would do absolutely anything to keep it.