As Matt perched on the bench, his tiny chest heaving from the climb, the locker room’s heavy door groaned open. His heart lurched—it was Jack. The linebacker’s massive frame filled the doorway, his sweat-drenched practice jersey clinging to his chiseled torso, his green eyes scanning the room absently. Matt scrambled for cover, aiming for the folds of a nearby jockstrap, but his tiny foot slipped on the slick bench. He tumbled backward with a faint *thud*, landing sprawled on the wood, fully exposed.
Jack’s gaze snapped toward the sound. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his cleats booming like thunder on the tiled floor. Matt froze, his tiny body trembling under the weight of those piercing eyes. Jack crouched, his face looming like a billboard, close enough for Matt to smell the faint musk of sweat and grass on him.
“Whoa… Matt?” Jack’s voice was low, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “The rumors were true? You’re… tiny.”
Matt’s face burned. He tried to stammer a response, but his voice came out as a squeak. “I-I… uh… accident… lab…”
Jack’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. He glanced around, ensuring they were alone, then leaned closer, his breath a warm gust over Matt’s shivering form. “You shouldn’t be here, man. This place is a death trap for someone your size. What were you thinking?”
Matt swallowed, his crush warring with his panic. “I… just wanted to… see the locker room.” It was a flimsy lie, and Jack’s raised eyebrow said he knew it.
“Right.” Jack’s tone was skeptical, but his eyes softened, a flicker of something—concern? affection?—passing through them. He rubbed the back of his neck, his massive hand dwarfing the gesture. “Look, I… I don’t know what’s going on with you, or… us. But I’m not letting you get squashed out here. We gotta find somewhere safe for you till we figure this out.”
Matt’s heart skipped. *Us?* Did Jack mean…? No, he couldn’t let his hopes run wild. He nodded mutely, still sprawled on the bench like a bug under a magnifying glass.
Jack sat back on his heels, thinking. “Alright, you need to stay close, but somewhere no one’s gonna step on you. I could… I dunno, tuck you in my sock, inside my cleat? It’s snug, but safe. Or… maybe the front of my briefs? Lots of room, but, uh, might be weird. Backside’s an option too, I guess. Could slip you under my armpit, keep you hidden in my jersey. Or against my chest, inside my pads. Your call, Matt, but we gotta move. Team’s coming back soon.”
Matt’s mind spun. Each option was intimate, overwhelming, and fraught with danger—or temptation. The idea of being so close to Jack set his tiny pulse racing, but the reality of being trapped in a cleat or pressed against Jack’s skin was daunting. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I… I need a second to think,” he squeaked.
Jack nodded, his expression unreadable but gentle. “Fair. But don’t take too long. I’m not leaving you out here alone.” He extended a massive hand, palm up, offering Matt a perch. “Hop on. Let’s get you somewhere less… exposed.”
Matt hesitated, then climbed onto Jack’s palm, his tiny hands gripping the warm, calloused skin.
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