Time Out (Dear Lonely Guy Book 2)

by Alison Hendricks

  "Stop fucking around and put it in," I told him, though I was laughing, too. "Ass."

  "Ass, huh?" His hips rolled, the head of his dick just barely breaching me before he pulled back, gliding between my cheeks. "There's only one ass I see here."

  "If you don't fuck it, I'll wrestle you to the ground and fuck myself," I warned him, though we both knew it was an empty threat.

  Another rumbling chuckle left him, making me shiver. He continued to rock against me, drawing a gasp despite my best attempts to resist how good it felt just having his dick glide over my hole.

  "I swear to G--"

  Before I could finish, Brendan was pushing into my ass. My words cut off with a long, low moan as I found myself helpless to the sensation. He'd relaxed me enough that the first few inches slid in easily, that feeling of delicious fullness starting to bloom in my consciousness.

  He rocked into me, opening me up, sinking in inch by inch until at last he was fully inside of me. I let out another choked moan, one hand gripping the back of the couch while the other clutched at his thigh.

  He started moving soon after, and the feeling of him dragging in and out of me was something I couldn't begin to put into words. Especially since he held my gaze, pinning me down with the beautiful intensity of his. I was caught up in it, in how amazing all of it was, how right it felt. In that moment, I couldn't keep my walls up. There was no telling how much he saw, because my chest constricted with emotion I'd been refusing to feel for most of my life now.

  I realized it was happening far too late. Brendan was moving slowly, fucking me like I was actually his, like I mattered to him. I wanted it so badly that I just... let him do it for a while, before my brain finally managed to get a word in edgewise to protect my heart.

  I knew I needed to dash those feelings away, and the only way to do that was to focus on the physical.

  "Harder," I urged him. "Fuck me harder."

  He glanced to my leg, then me.

  There was a growl in my voice when I said, "It doesn't hurt, I promise. Now fuck me!"

  That time he listened, starting with slamming his cock deep inside of me. His balls smacked against my ass and I moaned, throwing my head back.

  He went for it as hard as he went earlier when his tongue was in my ass, pounding my hole with full, brutal strokes that scooted the couch back a little more each time he bottomed out. I forced my eyes open to watch him and was rewarded with the sight of Brendan totally lost to desire, a fire blazing in his eyes.

  "Fuck," I cried hoarsely, feeling my body begin to tighten. "I'm close. Don't stop."

  If anything, he redoubled his efforts to seemingly fuck me into the cushion. I was too far gone to stop my climax even if I wanted to, and I definitely didn't want to. I let it hit me like a tidal wave crashing into the shore, my whole body shaking and shuddering with the force of it. My loud moan bounced off the walls of my apartment. I was sure my neighbors would file a noise complaint, but I didn't fucking care. It felt so good.

  Especially since Brendan kept pumping inside of me, breathing heavily in huffs, grunts, and groans. I knew he was close, so I deliberately squeezed around him to pull him over the edge with me. He didn't even get a chance to slam all the way back inside of me before I felt his cock twitch and jerk inside my ass, the sensation of warmth emanating through the condom as he came.

  He was still, a choked moan in his throat as he emptied his balls, his hips bucking beyond his control. If I'd been close enough, I swore I could have come again just from watching and experiencing that.

  Meeting his eyes as I tried to catch my breath, I saw a tenderness there that warmed me through. I wanted to snap at him or turn away. To try and hide the fact that I was probably looking at him the same way, too.

  But, I couldn't force myself to do it. For once, I just... let myself get comfortable with the idea of this. Even if this was the only way I got it.

  Even if I knew it would never last.

  17

  Brendan

  It was hard not to think about him while I was working.

  It wasn't even just the sex, though that'd been unbelievable. The feeling of finally being inside of him after all this time was something I couldn't put to words. It spoke to a tender part of my heart that I'd locked away for so long, and I wanted to nourish it as often as possible.

  There were other things that fed it almost as well. Thinking about his smile, the mischievous glint in his eyes, or the passion he had when he spoke of his team. I remembered and imagined all of it as I trained with the guys and, while I made sure I never endangered any of them, I knew they weren't getting the fully-present Brendan.

  Especially Ty.

  I was spotting him as he did reps with a barbell, the magnetic weights stacked up to half of what he'd once been able to lift. His reconditioning was coming along fine, and thankfully the Gators hadn't started him in any more games. They did keep him on the bench, though, and put him through the same brutal hits everyone else endured in practice.

  Until I could beg my way into another hearing, all I could really do was make sure I trained him enough to be ready for it. Today, I wasn't doing my job and I finally realized it when his hands slipped on the barbell.

  There were safety catches in place, but I was able to respond quickly enough to grab the barbell and pull it back up to its resting place.

  I needed to pull myself together and get my head out of the clouds, and I definitely needed to stop wondering if this thing with Keith was going to be a regular occurrence from now on.

  "Sorry," Ty said, as if he was the one who needed to apologize. He sat up on the bench, both hands raking through his sweat-drenched hair. "My mind's not in it today."

  As much as I wanted to commiserate, it wasn't the best idea from a professional standpoint. I told myself to do better and just moved on instead.

  "What's up?"

  Sitting down on the weight bench beside his, I pushed my own thoughts and worries aside to listen to Ty.

  He sucked on his teeth, then said, "You're just gonna think I'm paranoid."

  "Hey." I waited until his gaze met mine. "If something's bothering you, it deserves attention. I'm not going to dismiss it out of hand."

  I can't help but wonder if the athletics department is pushing him again. Pumping him full of opioids when he complains and just hoping he'll somehow miraculously heal despite the fact that he's in a prime position to reinjure himself.

  "My economics professor keeps marking me down for bullshit reasons. Any test that has an essay component, I fail when guys who I know don't understand the material pass. All my papers come back with a D or lower. If I have to be a little late because of practice, or have to miss a class, I'm docked points when nobody else is." The longer he spoke, the more upset he became. "There's a guy who shows up to a Monday, Wednesday, Friday class once a week at the most and he's still passing somehow. But he's not a football player, so..."

  Ah. That's the crux of the issue.

  A lot of times the guys on the football team are given special treatment. They have to maintain a certain GPA to play and the professors know this, which means a lot of them do what they can to nudge that into place.

  Other professors resent the athletics department and especially the football team, despite the fact that these guys are bringing in the bulk of the money for the university. Professors like that go out of their way to grade football players harshly, like they're trying to make an example of them.

  I'm guessing this professor is one of those.

  "Who is it?"

  "Dr. Carson," he says with a little shrug. "I don't know, man. Maybe I am paranoid. I just can't afford to lose my scholarship. Like... literally can't afford it."

  I know that's part of why he's kept playing, too. His family doesn't have the money to keep him here on their own. He's fully-dependent on that scholarship.

  "I don't think you're paranoid," I told him softly, "but maybe there's some way you can mitigate what he's trying to do
. He's probably always going to grade you down and proving it will be a long road that's probably not worth it. But are the essays and test answers you're turning in the best they can be?"

  He blew out a breath. "Nah, probably not. Econ's not my strong suit. Shit's boring as fuck."

  I couldn't help laughing at that. As someone who'd never really had a head for numbers despite having to take a lot of numbers-oriented classes for a science degree, I couldn't argue with him. Econ sucked.

  "You know, Keith does some tutoring outside of school hours. I bet he could lend a hand," Reuben said.

  I hadn't even realized he was close to us, but now I saw him working with another player, helping them get their strength up rep by rep.

  I got the sense he was meddling, but I didn't mind the idea. Even if I still had no idea what Keith and I were to each other.

  "Would he be able to help with something like economics, though?"

  Reuben shrugged. "Worth a try. I can ask Elliot, if you want?"

  That was the coward's way out, but it wasn't exactly going to say me. "Nah, I'll ask, if that's something you’re interested in?"

  I turned back to Ty and he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, a tutor would be great. I'll do anything. Seriously."

  In that case, then I had to do anything and everything to bury all of the confusion and longing for something Keith might not be willing to give me and just ask him about tutoring.

  For Ty's sake, and for mine.

  I texted Keith with a heads up that I needed to ask a favor, figuring it would be better to break the ice.

  When I got to his apartment, I quickly saw his interpretation of the word "favor."

  He was sitting on the couch, completely naked, back against the arm of it with his legs spread wide. A cock ring gripped around the base of his very erect dick and he was working a dildo into his ass, a bottle of lube nearby.

  Fuck. I stopped breathing for a moment, my head swimming as all the blood in my body surged to my dick. It twitched, eager to get in on this, and I bit back a groan.

  In that moment, I was so, so glad I'd decided to drop him as a physical therapy patient. There was no way I could have resisted, and the reason I came here didn't stand a chance at getting in the way.

  "How long have you been fucking yourself?" I asked, my voice pitched lower.

  I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, then started on the buttons of my slacks. My cock was already firming up nicely, pressing against the seam.

  "Since I got your text," he said, continuing to move the dildo in and out. Each time he squirmed and moaned, my dick twitched again. "Jealous?"

  I didn't answer him with words. Instead, I shucked off my shoes and pants, then knelt down before the couch. I reached for the dildo, replacing his hand with mine, and slowly began to push it in.

  He arched his back, letting out a low moan as I angled it, then drew it back, working into a rhythm that matched the slow, rocking one he'd been using.

  Leaning close, I licked a stripe along the underside of his balls while I slowly pumped the dildo in and out of him. I drew one fleshy orb into my mouth, sucking hard before I released it and went to the other. When he reached back to grip the couch, I moved up to his cock, painting a stripe up the underside before taking him into my mouth.

  "Oh, fuck," he moaned as my mouth and the dildo worked in tandem.

  It didn't take long for him to come. I felt him tense seconds before a hot line of his jizz hit the back of my throat, his dick pulsing in my mouth. I held myself there, slowing my movements with the dildo until he finished. Swallowing down every last drop, I used my tongue to clean him up, then carefully withdrew the dildo.

  "Here I was expecting you to pull it out and fuck me yourself," he said, breathless. His cock was beginning to soften, the ring growing loose.

  "I thought about it, but I'd hate to waste such a pretty dildo," I said, admiring it before I set it aside.

  The moment I stood, he was reaching for my dick with one hand, the other on my hip to urge me closer.

  "Come here. I want this fat dick in my mouth right now."

  I start to comply, then realize in a shock of guilt why I actually came here.

  "Hold on," I tell him, pulling away from his grasp. His pretty pout is almost enough to make me stop, but I overcome it. "That's not actually the favor I'm here for."

  Boy, this was... awkward, with him completely naked and me only wearing a very tight pair of briefs that showed off my growing erection.

  I was afraid if I waited, though, I'd never get it out.

  "There's a kid I work with. Ty? You may know him from Reuben."

  To his credit, Keith sat up, adopting a more serious look.

  "I know the team's making him play, yeah."

  "He's also having some trouble with grades. Reuben suggested you as a tutor, and I was hoping..."

  Keith laughed out of nowhere, the sound a comfort, but still a surprise.

  "So you came over here to ask me to tutor somebody, but got distracted by helping me masturbate?"

  A smirk curved my lips. "You're the one who had a dildo up his ass as soon as I walked through the door."

  "Mm. Point." He leaned back on the couch, one arm draped over the back of it. "Yeah, I'll tutor him. You can give me the details later. After I suck your dick."

  I couldn't help laughing at that, letting out a very unmanly sound when Keith grabbed my hips and yanked me toward him. I steadied myself with the back of the couch and as soon as he got my cock out of my briefs, the only sounds from me were my moans as they echoed through the small apartment.

  18

  Keith

  I'll admit, I barely remembered Brendan had asked me about tutoring. I was too busy thinking about the quickest way to get his dick in my ass. Sue me.

  It was insane how much I wanted him. Like I'd been starved of good dick for ages and was only just getting a taste of it. I'd always had a healthy sexual appetite. When I was a teenager, it wasn't uncommon for me to jack off three or four times a day, sometimes in succession. I used to have marathon weekends where I'd watch hours of porn and see how many times I could make myself come, and how quickly I could recover.

  I'd even jacked it while sitting right beside Brendan once. We were seventeen and hanging out on the dumpy couch in my living room. My folks were gone, so we'd propped my clunky laptop on the coffee table and I fired up a porno I'd spent hours downloading knowing I'd have to delete it before my parents found out.

  It was straight porn, because I hadn't wanted to out myself with a video of two guys going at it. I'd also had what I liked to call Horny Brain Disease, where I thought it'd be a good idea to invite my best friend over for a shared masturbation session, and I knew the only way to do that was with straight porn.

  I watched the guy the whole time and, despite some self-consciousness at first, I eventually started doing more than just rubbing myself through my jeans. By the time I had my dick in my hand, the guy was throat-fucking his partner and I imagined it was Brendan doing that to me. Fucking my throat until I gagged on his cock, then telling me how good I was.

  Even back then I'd had a dirty mind, though porn was more to blame for that than anything else.

  I'd tried really hard to be discreet about looking at his cock, but he caught me. More than once. There was a moment where he locked eyes with me, his gaze searing, and started to pump faster. I should have known from then on that he wasn't straight, but I'd been afraid to hope.

  My desire for sex had only grown as I learned more about myself and what I liked. I was the definition of a slutty, needy bottom, and when I had a top who could satisfy my needs, I was in heaven. Brendan definitely fit the bill, but there was more to it than that. All of this was a dream come true for me. Even if I knew it was going to end in disaster, I could pretend and just enjoy how fucking good he felt inside of me, or how well he worked my hole with his tongue, or how much I craved the taste of his cum in my mouth.

  With all
of that swirling around in my head, it was no wonder I was surprised when he texted me about Ty. We were set to meet up at the library, where I hopefully wouldn't get into any trouble. Brendan was coming along to help put him at ease, and my dirty brain conjured all these images of pulling him back to the stacks and sucking him off just an aisle away from the nearest librarian.

  I really needed to get it together. Plenty of time for that later, in a place where we wouldn't be arrested.

  My leg was cleared for me to take a regular shower now, thank fuck, and I did that before heading out. The brace still had to be worn, but I could hobble around without crutches, and getting a Lyft prevented the whole problem of trying to drive when my foot felt like a lead weight.

  Brendan and Ty were already there when I arrived, situated at one of the tables in the back. Brendan waved me over and I joined them, setting my bag down. I'd brought my laptop so I could check on answers, and some notes I'd already printed out. Economics wasn't my strongest subject by far, but I could hold my own.

  "Hey," I greeted, holding out my hand to the football player. "Ty, right? I'm Keith. I'll be your resident nerd today."

  I grinned at him, my words prompting a laugh. He gave my hand a firm pump before letting go.

  "Really good to meet you. Brendan says you're a great tutor, which is good cause I don't understand half of this shit."

  "I don't even think economists understand half of this shit," I said, pulling out my printed papers and my laptop before taking a seat. "Brendan sent me your last test, though, so I figure we can go through the ones you got wrong and figure out the right answer together. That should ease into the essays. Sound good?"

  He nodded enthusiastically and we got started. The questions on that test were tricky, so I couldn't fault him for slipping up. Once I showed him how to get to the right answer and why it was right, he grew a lot more confident. He even took the initiative in finding the right answer to a couple of the later questions and explaining his thought process from when he'd been wrong.