Cocky
Page 6
“You didn’t need to move on my account,” Eliot said after a moment, clearly awake.
He must have been awake the whole time.
Danny swore under his breath, embarrassed that Eliot had witnessed all of that.
“I, uh…” Danny struggled for something to say in response, and decided that the best course of action was to own what he’d done and play it off like it was no big deal.
It wasn’t really a big deal, after all. Eliot had been warm, and he’d been in pain. Of course he’d sought him out in his sleep. That made all the sense in the world.
That was Danny’s story, and he was sticking to it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t even try to stop you breaking my fingers.”
“Lucky for you, I was joking.” Eliot rolled over to face him. Danny had never seen Eliot like this before—his eyes unfocused, his hair all over the place, sleep-rumpled in one of Danny’s old t-shirts.
He was…
Danny shoved the thought aside before he could finish it. That wasn’t a road he needed to go down, even mentally.
He watched Eliot roll over again, reaching out to the bedside table to grab his phone.
“Roll over and pretend to be asleep,” Eliot instructed, still sleepy, but way more awake than Danny was.
“Why?” Danny asked, even as he obeyed. Eliot had a surprisingly forceful tone that made Danny want to follow his orders automatically. That was probably a habit he needed to get out of before Eliot noticed.
“I’m taking a selfie with you in the background so I can make a coy Instagram post about having spent the night here. So that anyone who saw you stumble will be silenced by your apparent sexual prowess.”
“Hey, I’m awesome in bed,” Danny defended. “Even with a busted knee.”
“You’re definitely good at sleeping. I tried to wake you half a dozen times before giving up,” Eliot said.
Danny sighed. There was no point in trying to pretend to Eliot that he was at his peak. He just wasn’t, and as hard as it was to accept that, he was eventually going to have to.
If he started being honest about it now with someone he trusted, maybe it’d be easier to ask people in future to understand that he wasn’t twenty-five anymore. That he was scarred and worn out and sometimes in too much pain to do anything but lie down and complain about it.
Not that he was that much older, but with his thirtieth birthday approaching at what felt like the speed of light, Danny felt old. Even next to Eliot, who he only had three-odd years on, he felt ancient.
That was the pain talking, he knew. Knowing that didn’t actually help with the feeling, though.
“There, posted. I promise to imply that you’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“Good.” Danny rolled back over to face Eliot again. His knee felt a little better, but he’d have to be gentle with it today if he wanted it to last him for the rest of the season.
“You don’t actually go for a run every morning, do you?” Eliot asked.
Danny vaguely remembered telling that particular lie when they’d first met. “I used to,” he said. “Now I kinda roll out of bed and go for an early-morning hobble around the house until my joints warm up. Which I realize makes me sound ninety.”
Eliot shook his head. “Not ninety. Just injured, which is understandable. I know you like to project an image of being totally unscathed by your years of professional sport, but… it’s obvious to anyone who thinks about it for a second that you wouldn’t be. I understand why you’re trying to hide it, but I hope you intend to get proper treatment as soon as you can.”
“I’m booked in for surgery the day after the season ends,” Danny said.
“I’ll remember to send flowers.” Eliot set his phone aside, then climbed out of the bed and stretched, lifting himself onto the tips of his toes as he clasped his hands above him and yawned.
It was a Sunday, so it wasn’t as though either of them had to be anywhere.
Part of Danny wanted to ask Eliot to stick around. The company would have been nice, especially while he was feeling sorry for himself.
He didn’t think Eliot would go for it, though.
“You’re welcome to the first shower. Water pressure’s amazing and there’s plenty of clean towels in the hamper,” he offered, wanting to prolong Eliot’s stay. “And then I could make you breakfast, return the favor.”
Eliot paused, obviously considering. He chewed on his lower lip, as he always did when he was thinking about something. It was a weirdly endearing habit.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he said, finally.
Danny wasn’t sure how to balance not looking desperate with assuring Eliot that if he wanted to hang out, he totally could.
“You won’t,” Danny said. “I don’t have any plans, and I can’t exactly go out. I can sweeten the deal by offering to drive you home later, though.”
Eliot’s uncertain expression broke into a smile. “Then I’m taking that first shower. Thank you.”
“No problem,” Danny called after him as Eliot disappeared into the connected bathroom.
It probably wasn’t good that he wanted Eliot to hang around, but Eliot didn’t seem to think it was weird. As long as that was true, he could enjoy having company for once.
That was definitely all it was about. Company.
The need for company didn’t exactly explain why Danny was still rock hard, though. His hand was skimming along his stomach before his brain kicked in and made him stop, fingertips hovering at the waistband of his underwear.
Eliot was in the next room. He couldn’t do this.
Hearing the shower turn on didn’t help at all. Danny’s mind chose that moment to show him exactly what Eliot would look like naked, all long lines and smooth, soft skin.
None of which would have been Danny’s thing a week ago, but now he couldn’t think of anything hotter.
He bit down on his lip as the image of Eliot undressing and stepping into the warm water filled his mind. His fingertips slipped beyond the waistband they’d stopped at, his hand moving automatically to curl around his cock.
It wasn’t about Eliot, he told himself. He was just feeling needy.
Besides, Eliot never needed to know. He’d be in the shower for a while. More than long enough for Danny to get off.
Danny closed his eyes, rolling over to face away from the bathroom door, just in case, and committing to what he was about to do.
He knew what he wanted. He wanted a freshly-showered, still warm Eliot to slip back into bed behind him, press up against him, wrap his own elegant fingers around Danny’s cock and jerk him off.
He wanted it hard and merciless, exactly the same as the way Eliot kissed. He wanted Eliot’s cock pressing against him from behind, rubbing against him, slick and needy, as turned on as Danny was by waking up like they had.
As Danny tugged on his own cock, he imagined Eliot doing the same in the shower, thinking the same thoughts. Biting his lip delicately, like he had on that first day, moaning softly as he worked himself, knowing he had to be quiet, or Danny would hear him.
Maybe Eliot’s thing would be Danny coming into the shower, pinning him against the cold tiles and kissing him, their hips rocking together, Eliot’s legs wrapping around Danny’s waist as he held him up, cocks pressed up against each other, slipping against their wet stomachs.
Danny could get behind that. He let himself sink into it, feeling the warm water running over his back, the friction of Eliot’s cock catching against his. He could reach between them, grab both of them for a little extra friction, pull and tug and thrust against Eliot as he begged for more, harder.
He was already close, the idea of having Eliot under him hotter than Danny had ever guessed it would be. Arousal burned deep in his gut, need making him feel heavy, his cock pulsing in his hand as he worked himself closer and closer to coming.
Danny’s orgasm hit at the same moment the water shut off, forcing him to bite down on his own fi
st to avoid being heard. His hips jerked into his hand, his body riding out the wave for long moments, the image of Eliot coming at the same time flashing across his mind as he spilled all over his hand.
With only a few seconds to recover, Danny reached out for a handful of tissues to clean up with, wiping himself down as well as he could as he heard Eliot’s footsteps on the tiles in the connecting bathroom.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to grab his sweatpants and pull them on, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling, his cock still sensitive and tingling.
It hadn’t been about Eliot. It had been about getting off after a stressful day, and after waking up hard. He’d probably been having a great dream he didn’t remember.
The dream probably hadn’t been about Eliot kissing him again. That was ridiculous.
Everything was under control.
Chapter Eleven
All of Eliot’s Monday morning so far had been taken up by torturing himself over his relationship with Danny. A lot had happened over the previous forty-eight hours, and he was still unpacking all of it.
Firstly, there was The Kiss. Practical as it had been, Eliot couldn’t help but make it into an important event in his mind. He wasn’t accustomed to kissing just anyone. His choices had either been let Danny’s secret—which he hadn’t been sure of until that moment—get out, or kiss him. It had been a split-second reaction, and he was fairly sure it was the right one.
Which led him to the second point: Danny’s attitude had instantly changed. They’d gone from awkward acquaintances to close friends in the space of a few hours. It made sense—up until that point, neither of them had been sure how far Eliot was willing to go.
Now that Danny knew unequivocally that Eliot was on his side, of course he’d warmed up to him. Danny had more or less said outright that there were very few people he could trust. Clinging to the ones he could only made sense.
The third thing Eliot was struggling with was that Danny had trusted him. He knew all of the relevant secrets now. He was part of a distressingly small inner circle that seemed to include Danny, himself, and Danny’s manager.
That was a lot of responsibility for what had initially been a very vague arrangement.
And then he’d had a really nice, calm morning with Danny afterward, as though they were old friends.
Or lovers.
That was maybe the most confusing thing of all. It was so easy to imagine them together.
A silly crush was one thing, but this was something different. It had been comfortable to curl up next to Danny to sleep, to wake up beside him, to have a peaceful breakfast with him and talk about nothing in particular for hours.
Danny had tried to explain the finer points of hockey, and Eliot had listened without really understanding. Then Eliot had explained some of the finer points of journalism, and Danny had done more or less the same. It had been nice. Simple. Comfortable.
Feelings were awful at the best of times, but not knowing what they were, exactly, was even worse. Eliot definitely felt something, but whether it was the simple affection he’d feel toward a friend or something bigger and scarier, he had no idea.
It made focusing on anything else practically impossible.
When Ben messaged him to ask him to come into his office, it was a relief. Even if he was about to be told he’d screwed something up, that was better than agonizing over his weekend.
The moment Eliot poked his head into Ben’s office, the other man straightened up immediately and smiled warmly at him.
“Congratulations on the Harper piece,” he said. “Your head must’ve spun when you saw the online bonus.”
Eliot blushed. His head had spun, and he was grateful that he’d been given the opportunity. In the year he’d been working at Cocky, he’d never really felt like he had a good read on Ben—he was a man who played his hand close to his chest, so it was hard to tell what his motivations were.
In this case, though, Eliot was willing to believe that Ben wanted to help him.
“It did,” Eliot admitted. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
“No problem.” Ben clicked on the pen he was holding. “You do good work. I’d like to offer you something else outside of your normal wheelhouse, if you’re up for it?”
Considering the success of the last assignment Ben had offered him, Eliot didn’t have to hesitate this time. “Absolutely.”
“I want a piece about what it’s like moving to LA from an outsider’s perspective. I know, I know, it’s fluff, but it’ll open up opportunities for you to cover culture and stuff. I want to give you opportunities to do less fluff, more stuff that means something. But the fluff is always going to be what pays the bills.”
“I understand,” Eliot said. If he hadn’t been given the other assignment first, he might not have understood, but now he could see what was going on. For whatever reason, Ben genuinely seemed to be trying to help him.
He’d take any help he was being offered. If the last few weeks had taught Eliot anything, it was that everyone needed a little help sometimes.
Ben smiled a gentle, warm smile at him. Eliot had never really thought about it before, but Ben was an attractive man. The kind of older mentor figure he might have fantasized about if he hadn’t been so afraid of him up until now.
“I knew you would,” Ben said. “I want a pitch by the end of the day. We can go over it tomorrow morning.”
Eliot wasn’t used to people taking him seriously, so this was a nice change.
“Sure. I’ll have it to you as soon as possible.”
“Good.” Ben nodded. “Then I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Eliot nodded, making a half-turn to leave before pausing and turning back to Ben. “Thank you,” he said. “For having faith in me. It means a lot.”
“Anytime,” Ben assured him, looking away as a faint blush colored his cheeks.
People didn’t give Ben enough credit. He was a hardass when he needed to be, and a seasoned journalist, but he was perfectly capable of being both supportive and kind of sweet.
Eliot was grateful for the opportunity, and he intended to make the most of it. That had been working out really well for him so far.
Chapter Twelve
Danny hadn’t expected Eliot to remember his birthday, so when he’d gotten a text from him, he’d been surprised. Not many people had remembered, and no one who Danny really wanted to see—except his mom, but she was thousands of miles away.
Which was why he’d invited Eliot over. It had seemed like an awesome idea at the time—and sensible, since a real boyfriend wouldn’t leave him to spend his birthday alone. Eliot had already missed this week’s game because his boss had kept him late, so they needed to make up for that before people started asking if they’d broken up.
This way, Eliot could post that he’d been here, they could take a selfie together, and everything would be right with the world.
Danny jumped the moment the doorbell rang. The pizza delivery guy had just left, so Eliot’s timing was perfect.
“Hey,” Danny said, stepping back from the door once he’d opened it to let Eliot inside. “Uh, make yourself at home, obviously. There’s food, I’m gonna grab some wine.” He waved in the general direction of the kitchen.
“Happy birthday,” Eliot said with a soft smile, holding out an envelope with Danny’s name written on it in the same elaborate scrawl he’d seen in Eliot’s notebook. “It’s just a card,” he added.
Danny held the envelope delicately in his hands, as though it was something rare and precious. In a lot of ways, it was. “I didn’t get many of those. Thank you.”
“No problem,” Eliot said, grinning broadly, his eyes lighting up. “I’m gonna go steal all your pizza,” he added, disappearing into the living room.
He wasn’t sure exactly when he and Eliot had become friends, but they definitely were friends now. Danny liked that. He didn’t have so many that he could afford not to have Eliot.
Danny didn’t like to think of himself as an introvert, but he was. He always had been, and playing sport had never changed that. That was just his job, what he was good at. He’d never wanted the fame, and while he was happy to be a team player, he’d never really wanted to be super close with his teammates.
Eliot didn’t make him feel crowded, though. Eliot didn’t take up much of the energy Danny had reserved for dealing with other people.
Bottle of wine in hand, Danny headed into the living room to see Eliot halfway through a slice of pizza. Laughter bubbled up in his chest as he took in the sight of Eliot carefully dangling strands of melted cheese into his mouth.
This was nice. This was exactly what he’d wanted out of his birthday when he’d thought about it. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want the pressure of not being alone, either. Eliot was the perfect person for that.
He moved to sit down on the couch next to him, setting down the bottle and two glasses he’d grabbed in the kitchen.
“I have a whole collection of wines that I assume are very nice. I… can’t really tell the difference,” Danny admitted.
“I can’t either.” Eliot shrugged. “But I will help you drink it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Danny said, holding the bottle between his knees to work a corkscrew into it.
A tiny part of him hoped that Eliot might stay the night again. He didn’t want to think too hard about why he wanted that or what it meant, but it had been so nice to wake up next to someone for once.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he could ask for, but he could encourage it if things looked like they were going that way.
Once he had two glasses of wine poured, Eliot made him hold his up to take a selfie of the both of them. Eliot was way better at taking photos of Danny than Danny was at taking photos of himself. He’d tried it a few times, hated the result, and then stopped bothering.