It's even more awkward to stand there, completely naked, as Derek strips down to nothing. I keep trying to tell myself it's just like the locker room, but I know it's not. For one, Derek isn't a teammate and, even if he were, well. It's not like I've never been attracted to a teammate before.

But in a locker room there are easy distractions, like the process of putting on or taking off your own gear, conversations between teammates, coaches whispering in a far corner. There are plenty of things to look at and pay attention to other than the fact that there is an extremely attractive naked man two feet in front of you.

I'm trying so hard not to be weird about the whole thing, mentally warring with myself over whether or not to let my gaze drop below Derek's. Is looking too obvious? Or is actively not looking even more obvious?

In the end, I let myself sneak when Derek nods down at the vial again, just long enough to see the heavy hang of his cock between his thighs and-- goodness. Okay. Okay, that's.

The vial.

Right.

Nodding, I glance up at Derek's face again and then take a breath, pull off the tiny cork on the vial, tip my head back, and swallow it down with my eyes closed. It's not the greatest thing I've ever tasted, but it doesn't make me gag. It's strangely warm though, like alcohol and, just like Derek said, it feels a little strange. Not a bad sort of strange, just... strange.

And then I'm suddenly, in the blink of an eye, much closer to the ground. And, oh. So much warmer.