What Darío Taught Me Behind the Sports Hall

Darío is dark-haired and dark-skinned, with that warm tone that seems to keep summer alive even on the grayest days of January, when we train with numb fingers and our breath turns to vapor inside the municipal sports hall. He has full lips, always slightly wet, as if he had just drunk cold water. A shaved body, not a single hair to break the clean line of his muscles. Compact, solid, built to jump higher than the others, to absorb hits without giving way, to push forward even with three rivals hanging off him. At twenty-two, he is the closest thing to a god I’ve ever seen on a court.

I don’t say that out loud. I almost never put it into complete words, because when I do I feel something like vertigo. As if I were leaning out from a roof too high and had to step back.

I’m not like Darío. I’m the one who always arrives half a step late to the sprints. The one who barely looks at himself in the locker-room mirrors. The one who has learned too well how to disguise things. I’m the one who watches Darío when no one can see me.

We’ve played on the same basketball team for two seasons. The gym smells of sneaker rubber and varnished floor, voices bounce off the brick walls, and everything sounds more urgent in there, more real. Darío plays small forward. Powerful. Confident. Precise. The kind of player the coach uses as an example when he wants the rest of us to understand something.

Darío was straight, that much was crystal clear to me. The way he talked, the way he moved, that voice that even when he was young already sounded deep and direct. There was no doubt. Or so I told myself.

That Tuesday I arrived late to the locker room. The physical trainer had held me back to go over a defensive position on the board, and when I finally pushed through the door, the steam from the showers was still hanging in the air, hot and dense, mixed with the smell of cheap soap and roll-on deodorant.

The sound of running water echoed off the tiles. I came in with my bag slung over my shoulder, still keyed up from training. And then I saw him. Not fully. Just enough.

Darío came out of the showers with a towel wrapped around his neck, dark hair stuck to his forehead, skin still shining with water. Drops slid down his chest and slowly along each of his abs, as if they meant to stay there longer than necessary. He bent toward his locker. The towel slipped a little.

And there it was. Fully naked for one eternal second. His dick hung heavy between his thighs, thick even at rest, the glans half exposed, peeking out from the foreskin. His balls were tight, tense from the cold water, hanging under that cock that seemed designed for anyone to stare at. The skin over his pubis was smooth, hairless, everything on display, everything obscenely perfect. My mouth went dry all at once.

By the time I lifted my eyes all the way, he had already pulled on his underwear. Black. Tight. Clinging in all the places they were meant to. The bulge was obvious, the fabric stretched over that dick I’d just seen a second earlier, outlining the shape of the glans against the cotton.

Blood rushed to my head, and I felt my own cock harden in my pants before I could do anything about it. It swelled fast, tight, uncomfortable, pushing against the fabric.

I kept staring a second too long. Then Darío turned his head and his dark eyes met mine with a precision that left me breathless. I looked away at once. Too fast. Too obvious. I felt the heat climb from my neck to my ears. I bent down, pretending to look for something in my bag, though I didn’t need anything at all. I took the chance to readjust my cock against my thigh, praying nobody else would walk in at that exact moment.

When I looked up again, Darío already had his tracksuit pants on. He closed his locker without saying anything. He left.

I left a few minutes later.

***

The cold air hit me in the face as soon as I crossed the sports hall door. The parking lot was almost empty, the streetlights drawing long shadows over the asphalt still wet from the afternoon rain. I started home trying not to think, focusing on the sound of my own sneakers on the damp ground.

Then I heard his voice.

—Hey.

I turned.

Darío was leaning against the metal fence of the parking lot, looking toward the path that led to the little woods behind the sports hall. He didn’t seem to have been waiting for me on purpose. Or that’s what I told myself.

—Come here a second? —he nodded toward the trees—. Just a second.

I didn’t know how to say no. I had never known how to say no to him when it came to him.

We walked down the path in silence. The ground was covered in dark leaves that crunched under our sneakers. The air smelled of wet earth, resin, and that winter cold that still hadn’t fully settled in. The image of the locker room was stuck in my head like a photo I couldn’t close. That heavy cock hanging there. That marked bulge in his underwear. And the uncomfortable certainty of having been caught.

Darío stopped in a small clearing where the trees formed an uneven roof. He put his hand in his tracksuit pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. I just stared at him. It didn’t fit at all with the image I had of him.

—You smoke? —he asked.

I shook my head.

—No.

He smiled faintly, a tiny curve at the corner of his mouth.

—Me neither, really.

He took out a cigarette and put it between his lips. He lit the lighter. The metallic click rang out in the silence of the woods like something final.

He inhaled slowly. Very slowly. His chest rose slightly and then he let the smoke out with a slowness that made me look. The white cloud came out of his mouth and hung between us before dissolving into the cold air.

—Want to try?

He looked straight at me.

I swallowed.

—I’ve never smoked.

—There’s always a first time —he said.

He stepped closer. Then another step. He offered me the cigarette. I took it. Our fingers barely brushed, a contact of a fraction of a second, but enough for something warm to race down my arm and straight to my cock, which went hard as a stone again.

I brought the cigarette to my lips. Inhaled awkwardly. Coughed. Darío laughed, a low laugh, almost without opening his mouth.

—Slowly —he said. He came a little closer. He put his hand over mine, guiding the movement—. Like this.

His voice sounded different. Lower. Closer to me than to any normal conversation.

I inhaled again, slower. The smoke came out unhurriedly and hung between us.

***

Then something started that I didn’t know how to name at the time. A silent game. Darío took the cigarette between his lips and inhaled without looking away from me. His eyes fixed on mine as if he were waiting for something. As if he were measuring me.

He exhaled slowly, but not upward. Toward me.

The smoke moved slowly, directly, wrapping around me before fading into the icy air. I breathed in some of that warmth without meaning to. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the temperature.

He inhaled again. Deeper this time. He leaned in a little before letting the smoke out, so close that I could feel the heat of his breath before the white cloud came from his mouth.

—Breathe —he said.

I obeyed. Inhaled slowly.

The smell of tobacco mixed with the smell of his skin. It made me slightly dizzy. The cigarette passed back and forth between us as if it marked its own rhythm, a pulse we hadn’t agreed on but that we were both following. Sometimes he brought it to my lips without touching me. Sometimes he pulled it away at the last second, as if he enjoyed that tiny distance. As if he were playing with it.

The woods were completely silent except for the occasional crack of some distant branch. No one was there. Just him and me and the white smoke between us.

At one point he took a deep drag and, instead of letting the smoke out into the air, brought his mouth to mine. Very slowly. So slowly that I had time to pull away and didn’t. He didn’t quite touch me, but he was so close I could feel the heat of his lips without them actually brushing mine. And then he let the smoke out. Straight toward me. It went into my mouth before I could react. I breathed it in purely by reflex.

My heart was pounding in my throat. And my cock was pounding inside my pants, throbbing against the fabric, so swollen it was starting to hurt.

—See? —he murmured. His voice was almost a whisper now, something that belonged only to the space between us—. Like that.

He did it again. And again. Each time closer. Each time with less space between his mouth and mine. The cigarette burned down between his fingers while the air between us grew warmer despite the cold.

At one point he took my hand. Lifted it. Put the cigarette between my fingers. His fingers closed over mine, guiding me.

—Your turn.

I inhaled. When I let the smoke out, I directed it toward him. Darío didn’t move away. He breathed in slowly, as if collecting exactly the air I had just expelled, as if he wanted to keep something of mine.

Our faces were so close I could see every detail of his. The precise curve of his lips. The wetness at the corner of his mouth. The dark shine of his eyes fixed on mine. The smoke going back and forth between us like an invisible thread tying us to that moment without our noticing.

And then he closed the distance. He threw the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under the toe of his sneaker, and grabbed the back of my neck with that same hand that a second earlier had been guiding mine. His mouth came down on mine without asking. Hot, wet lips, tasting of tobacco. His tongue went straight in, looking for mine, pushing, and I opened my mouth by instinct, letting myself be invaded. He kissed me like he’d been wanting to do it for months. Hungry. Furious. With the certainty of someone who has already decided not to stop.

A moan escaped me that I couldn’t control. Darío swallowed it and kept going, biting my lower lip, sucking it slowly before shoving his tongue back in deep. While he kissed me, his other hand slid down my torso, shoved under my sweatshirt and clawed at the skin of my stomach, moving upward, searching for my nipples. When he found one, he pinched it and I moaned into his mouth.

—I’ve spent the whole season thinking about this —he murmured against my lips—. All fucking season watching you and jerking off at night.

My legs went weak at hearing that. His hand moved lower, found the bulge in my pants, and squeezed it through the fabric.

—Fuck —he said, pressing me with his open palm—. You’re rock hard.

—Shut up —I managed to say, my voice broken.

—I’m not shutting up.

He shoved me against the trunk of one of the trees in the clearing. The rough bark dug into my back through my clothes. He pressed against me, his whole body against mine, and I could feel his hard cock pushing against my hip through his tracksuit. Thick. Persistent. Claiming me.

He pulled down my pants zipper without taking his mouth off mine. He slipped his hand inside my underwear and yanked my cock out. The cold of the woods hit my burning dick for half a second before his closed hand wrapped around it. He tightened his grip and started stroking me slowly, up to the glans and down to the base, squeezing each time he reached the top.

—Look at how pretty it is —he said, looking down—. You’re drooling all over the tip.

I couldn’t speak. I could only breathe in broken gasps against his neck, clutching his sweatshirt, pushing my hips into his hand so he’d keep jerking me off.

—You want to come here, against the tree, like a filthy little pig? —he whispered in my ear while he pumped me faster—. Or do you want me to suck you first?

The word alone set my whole body tight. Before I could answer, Darío was already on his knees over the dark leaves on the ground, his face level with my cock. He looked up at me from below with those dark eyes and stuck out his tongue. He licked the tip very slowly, collecting the drop of fluid already sliding down. He tasted it like it was the first decent thing he’d had in weeks.

Then he opened his mouth and took me all the way in. All the way. In one go. I felt my cock slam against the back of his throat and he didn’t pull away, he held on, swallowing around it, pressing with his tongue. When he pulled off, a string of saliva hung from his chin to my glans.

—Fuck, Darío… —was all I managed.

He took me back in. And again. And again. With brutal rhythm, sucking hard on the way up, driving his head down onto me on the way down. His cheeks hollowed each time he sucked. The full lips I’d been sneaking looks at for two seasons were now stretched around my cock, shiny with saliva. He slipped one hand into his tracksuit and started jerking himself off while he kept sucking me.

I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands. I started fucking his mouth without thinking, pushing my hips, and he took it all. His eyes filled with tears but he didn’t pull away, moaning with my cock filling his throat each time I hit the back.

—I’m gonna come —I managed to say—. Darío, fuck, I’m gonna come.

He pulled off suddenly. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and smiled up at me, cheeks red and chin shining.

—Not yet.

He stood. In one motion he turned me around against the tree. Now my face was against the bark and his body was pressed to my back. He dragged my tracksuit pants and underwear down to my thighs in one yank. My bare ass out in the freezing forest air.

I heard the sound of his zipper coming down. Then the crinkle of a wrapper. He was putting on a condom. The guy had a fucking condom on him.

—You had it ready? —I asked, my voice shaking.

—Since the first day I caught you looking at me in the locker room —he said, pressing his mouth to my ear.

I felt the tip of his cock sliding between my ass cheeks. Thick. Hot even through the latex. He spit into his hand, ran it over himself, and then smeared my entrance with his finger, pushing slowly until the knuckle gave way and he slipped it all the way in. I moaned against the bark.

—Relax —he murmured—. You’re ready already. You’ve got your mouth open for me, fuck.

He added a second finger. Spread me open inside. Pushed again. I clenched my jaw trying not to make a sound and he licked my neck while he kept stretching me.

—I’m going to put it in now.

He pulled his fingers out. Put the tip against me. Pushed slowly, his hands gripping my hips, and I felt the thick head opening me until the ring gave way and he slid in all at once. The cry got stuck in my throat. It burned. It burned like someone had shoved a coal into me. But at the same time my own cock, crushed against the tree bark, throbbed with a force I had never felt before.

—Fuck, you’re so tight —he panted into my ear—. Fuck, fuck, you take it so well.

He stayed still for a moment. Then he started moving. At first slowly, halfway in and out, giving me time to adjust. Then deeper. Deeper. When he noticed I was pushing my ass back toward him, searching for him, he started fucking me for real.

The thrusts made a wet, obscene sound, mixed with the crunch of leaves under our feet and his heavy breathing against my neck. Every time he drove in all the way I felt his balls slap against mine. He grabbed my hair with one hand, pulling my head back, forcing me to lift my face as he rammed into me.

—Tell me you like it —he panted—. Tell me you like the way I fuck you.

—I like it —I moaned—. Fuck, Darío, I like the way you fuck me.

—Louder.

—I love it —I said, and I didn’t care about anything anymore—. I love your fucking cock.

He laughed, panting against my neck, and fucked me faster. His other hand came around to the front, found my hard cock, and started jerking me off in the same rhythm he was fucking me with. Every thrust inward matched a pull upward on my dick. I wasn’t in control of anything anymore. Moans kept slipping out of me on their own and his breath came out in broken gasps.

—I’m coming —I said—. Darío, I’m coming, I’m coming.

—Come —he growled, pumping me faster, fucking me harder—. Come for me, come on, come.

I exploded. I felt my orgasm rise from my balls and shoot out in hot bursts against the tree bark, while my ass clenched around his cock. The spasms forced him to grit his teeth.

—Fuck, fuck, fuck —he groaned—. Yeah, yeah, me too.

He shoved in to the hilt, stayed pressed against me, and I felt his cock throbbing inside as he emptied himself into the condom. A long shudder ran through his whole body against my back. He moaned against my ear with a broken voice I had never heard from him, not on the court, not anywhere.

He stayed inside me for a few more seconds, breathing against my nape. Then he pulled out slowly. I felt the emptiness like a strange tug. He took off the condom, tied it off, and tucked it into a tissue in his pocket. He didn’t even throw it on the forest floor. That made me laugh, right in the middle of everything.

I turned around, still braced against the tree, my legs trembling. Darío’s face was red, his hair tousled, his lips swollen. He gave me a small smile, that same tiny curve at the corner of his mouth as before.

—Tomorrow, do you want to come back here after training? —he said, almost in a whisper.

—Yes —I answered, without my brain really taking part in the decision.

—Perfect —he said.

And then, before I could process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. But not exactly on the cheek. Closer to the corner of my lips than anywhere else. The contact lasted barely a second, but it was enough for my whole body to respond in a way I could no longer hide.

Darío looked down for a moment. Smiled faintly.

Then he walked away down the path without looking back, hands in his pockets, moving with that calm of his I had never fully understood.

I stayed alone among the trees for several minutes. The cold hit me all at once now that he was no longer near. The smoke had vanished long ago. The spent cigarette lay on the ground by my sneakers. And on the bark of the tree, at hip height, a sticky white trail of my own cum was slowly drying in the cold of the woods.

I thought about the locker room. His fingers on mine. His mouth around my cock. His cock breaking me against the trunk. That question I had spent the whole season asking myself in silence.

Darío wasn’t straight.

Or maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe that category no longer helped me understand anything that had just happened between us.

I started home with my ass still stinging in a new way, with my hands still warm where he had touched them, thinking that tomorrow there would be training again, and that after training there would be a woods, and that in those woods someone would be waiting for me who knew exactly what I hadn’t dared to tell myself for months.