Taming Marcus(BoyXBoy)

Chapter Five

An: Yes, this is another forced chapter, and a rather short one at that. My apologies. I've been learning alot about football lately to make this story more accurate.

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"So, what is it you want?" I practically growled, crossing my arms over my chest. He just shook his head, before grabbing me by the sleeve, and pulling me off towards the boy's locker room. Uh-oh, I had a bad feeling about this. Man, I wish I could just lock the door behind us, for all I know he might compromise my whole straight jock act. 

It seemed fate was on my side though, because Marcus was looking back and fourth like a caged animal, before fixing those beautiful eyes on me. 

"I want to learn to play yer American football," he grunted, folding his arms over his chest. I only stared at him, blinking in shock. The words slowly began to sink in, and I began to think properly again. I was a tad bit disappointed though. I was really hoping he'd jump my bones, and we'd make hot music with our bodies... I swallowed, bidding that thought to leave my head.

"You want... To learn about football?" I asked, still a bit shocked. He huffed, shaking his head fiercely, like a lion trying to rip meat off of a carcass. 

"No, I want to learn how to play football, mate," he said. Was there really a difference? Well, maybe, if you were some intelligent geek, maybe. Gah, brain stop thinking now!

"Play football. Got it." I nodded, glancing over his rather lithe frame. Compared to our team currently... Damn, over ninety percent of the school could use him as a toothpick. Somehow, I don't think he'd like it if I were to point that out... Seriously brain, stop thinking! But seriously, America's obesity rate must go down. 

"Yo, Dill, yer spacin' out on me," Marcus said, shooting me a... glare sort of like look. I have no idea what to call that! Oh those eyes! Curse you school for not having a locking door on the locker rooms! 

"Sorry, but are you serious? I mean, our football is sorta rough compared to your football, or rugby, or whatever." Though, he came at a perfect time, I mean our kicker did get expelled due to a rather unfortunate incident with a cheerleader, band geek, and some random goth kid. Plus, we currently had no Junior Varsity team, so we couldn't replace him, meaning try outs. But depending on Marcus' skills, and how fast he could learn the rules of the game... He might be able to learn in time. Plus, I might get a little action as well. 

"I can take it. Can't be too hard, right?"

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Marcus grunted, falling onto his back on the ground. It was so odd, he had been trying for half an hour to move the damn dummy, and me and Dad had long since sat down to observe. I had decided to get some professional help, since Marcus was most certainly a lost cause. He thought a quarterback was an American term for ribs! You know, we really should have had more then one person good at kicking on our team, come to think of it. 

Not that Marcus will have to be in the actual game much, but it would still be nice to have some one with more muscle working with us. Heck, as long as they can move the dummy, it would be better then Marcus!

"He's not very good..." I said, shaking my head sadly. Dad nodded, watching with those skilled eyes that got him to were he was. He was amazing at finding a player's strong point, and strengthening it to the max.

"I say we try him actually kick the ball now. I don't think we'll have to worry about toughening him up that much if he's a good kicker," Dad said, standing up from his position on the bleachers. I could only sigh, and follow. 

The ball was set up, and Dad was explaining to Red that he was to try and kick it through the field goal.  I was back on the bleachers, on the opposite end of the field. Who knew what his kick would be like? I was smart, and positioned myself in a spot where I would never get hit by it. 

Dad was talking him into it, really, who needs this long a prep talk?, before Marcus got ready to kick. He backed up a few feet, and me and Dad watched him like hawks. He suddenly ran forward, his leg swing at such a speed it was almost a blur and-- Wham! Amen! That ball was flying! Up into the sky, through the field goal, straight towards-- Shit.