The third week came and went. I hadn’t attended tutoring in nearly a month. I buried myself in soccer and nightly runs that sucked the strength from my legs and left me a quivering puddle on the ground. The physical exhaustion helped take my mind off the growing realization that the longer Aidan and I were apart, the more I wanted him with me. The occasional text wasn’t enough. Even the idea of dating... sure, it was exclusive, but I wanted more than dates, and I’ve never wanted that before. My life had always revolved around soccer with the occasional fling thrown in there. Nothing more, I didn’t want my sexuality clashing with sports, but now that my team knows I’m gay, then who the fuck cares? I have room in my life for a significant other. More than that, I want a significant other.
Aidan. That’s who I want. And I really fucking hope he wants me as much as I want him. The type of wanting that blurs with need.
We reach week four since the accident when Maverick decides to join us at dinner. He doesn’t say anything, just eats his food. My mother smiles and returns to eating her meal. It’s a step. For all of us.
Afterward, I head back to my apartment, but halfway there, I find myself turning down different street, toward Aidan’s place instead. Tonight, I don’t want to be alone. One of the things I love about Aidan is that we don’t need to talk. We can sit in each other’s company and do nothing. It’s enough. It’s always, always enough.
And that’s the entire crux of the problem, isn’t it?
I love Aidan.
Fuck me, I do. I really do.
When did it happen? Hell if I know. Somewhere in between him dragging my drunk, sorry ass back to my apartment and teaching me about slope. And by the way, I still have no idea what the slope actually is or why it’s important, but that’s a conversation for another time.
He allowed me—an arrogant, brash, hard-headed snob—into his life and his bed. It’s kind of laughable, how I thought I was better than him because I could kick a ball into a net. Then there’s Aidan, man who works harder than anyone I’ve ever met to keeps his academic dreams alive. I can learn a lot from Aidan Forester. Come to think of it, I already have.
When I pull into his apartment complex, I see the light on at his bedroom window. After pulling into a space, I jog over to his door and knock. Then I wait, my palms sweaty and my heart hammering. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen his face or heard his voice.
The time between my knock and when he opens the door feels like an eternity, but when I finally take Aidan in, my heart starts to bang its way outside of my chest. He’s... wow. It feels like I’ve been asleep for ten years and the first thing I see when I wake is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His long limbs. The disheveled hair. The wire-rimmed glasses that constantly slide down his nose. Stubble on his sharp jaw. The rumbled clothes and bare feet.
“Sebastian.” He blinks in surprise, his mouth hanging open.
Honest to God, my throat feels tight. A burn migrates to my eyes, which I quickly blink away. “Hey, Mr. Jude Law.” My voice is hoarse, the words soft and full of ache. It’s so good to see him. He’s the best thing I’ve seen all month, and I wonder why I waited so long to come visit.
“Is everything okay?” Reaching out, he tugs me into the apartment and shuts the door behind me. We stand close enough that I can smell the soap on his skin, coffee on his breath. He’s an addict like the rest of America. I tell him that stuff’s bad for you, but Aidan never listens to me, and I hope he doesn’t start now, because everything he does is everything he is. And that’s the man I’ve fallen in love with.
I shrug. “Could be better. Maverick came to dinner last night. That’s definitely an improvement.”
“Do you want something to drink? There’s leftover pizza, too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Oh. So is there a reason you’re here or—” His eyebrows creep up his forehead.
“I wanted to see you.” I swallow. “I’ve missed you.”
His eyes soften. A tentative smile curls his mouth, yet there’s concern there too. “I’ve missed you, too. I didn’t want to pressure you into visiting. I know your family is going through a hard time. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you but, well, you know.” Tentatively, he touches my cheek, as if he’s unsure if this is still allowed when we haven’t been together in a month.
“I need you.” It flies out of me, a blurt. I don’t think I’ve said those words to anyone in my life. But I’m saying them to Aidan.
Almost as if he understands what I’m not saying, what I’m too afraid to say, Aidan nods and rests his hands on my shoulders. His bony fingers knead for a moment, then fall away. Then he lowers his head and presses a sweet kiss to my mouth, another, and a third, slowly deepening each successive kiss, until we’re trading breath and heat and sucking air through the other’s mouth. And still it’s slow, achingly slow, and we both maintain the pace because any faster and I’m afraid I’ll miss this feeling. The fullness. The completion. The belonging. Instead, I grab hold of it and twine it around my heart where it’s safe.
With our mouths unable to separate, we communicate what we can’t say with our hands. His run under my shirt, lingering on my stomach. I know how much Aidan loves my abs, which is why I take every chance I can to flash them, letting my shirt ride up when he’s around, knowing it makes his brain go to mush. His fingertips trace the indentations around the muscles before sliding toward my hipbones.
My hands coast over his chest, lingering at his nipples, which have hardened into points. When his glasses get in the way, I pull back and, carefully, remove them, setting them on a side table. I push him toward the bed. Aidan resists at first. I know he doesn’t think his twin-sized bed and cramped space is up to my standards, but I don’t have standards when it comes to him. Being with him is enough. I could care less about what size mattress he has. The smaller the better, in my opinion. More skin on skin.
“There’s a condom in my wallet,” I say on a breathy sigh. “And lube.” He’s removed my shirt, and I’ve removed his.
Except Aidan doesn’t reach for it. He drops to his knees, tugging down my pants and letting my cock spring free. It hangs heavy between my thighs, dripping. He must sense my hesitation, because he says, “Let me take care of you.”
He’s giving me something and expecting nothing in return? I nod, unable to voice what those words mean to me.
He starts slow. At first, it’s barely-there touches that make my eyeballs roll into the back of my head. My fingers fist at his scalp, my hips nudging forward. The torturous buildup will be worth the agony.
For a time, he’s showering attention on my balls, licking the soft skin, and behind. Soft pulls from his mouth—not too hard. My breathing is ragged, my heart hammering as the desire thickens my blood and shaft. He noses my pubic hair, breathing in, all the while stroking up and down my legs, tracing the muscles of my calves, which I know he loves. It’s true: soccer players have amazing calves.
A gasp flies out of my mouth as he spreads my cheeks and teases my hole. He’s still playing with my balls, but they’ve drawn up tight against my body, hard with impending release. My ass cheeks clench in anticipation. He doesn’t penetrate me, only teases. I shift my ass backward, trying to push him inside me. So far, I’ve only penetrated Aidan, but I would let him fuck me, if he wanted. If he was curious enough, if he wanted to switch roles, I’d be happy to do whatever the hell he wanted.
He makes his way to my shaft, licking a hot trail up and down, over and over again, yet skirting the tip. I growl out a sound. Not sure if it’s a word or a moan. Aidan smiles around my cock and finally latches onto the head.
I can’t hold back. Before I know it, the pleasure obliterates my world, searing fire washing through my body. It goes on. And on. It’s been a month since I’ve gotten off. Not even masturbation interested me.
I’m pumping into his mouth, and he t
akes all of me, one hand palming my ass and jerking me deeper into his mouth while he jerks himself with the other, until it feels like I’m hitting the back of his throat as my seed spills out. The thrusts come slower and peter out. Then Aidan makes moans and erupts in his hand. With trembling legs, I stare down at Aidan as he pulls his mouth away, licking the tip clean. He stares up at me with huge eyes.
My hands cup his face. One kiss pressed to his swollen lips, and I tug us both onto the bed. We lay wrapped up in one another, sated, blissed out.
The moment is so perfect after the hardest, shittiest month that I can’t keep the words inside me anymore. Because if it’s possible for me to have this not just tonight, but every day? For the rest of my life? I’d be an idiot not to take that chance.
“Aidan.”
The way I say his name, low and serious, makes his head turn, his eyes lock onto mine. Neither of us blink. “What is it?”
“I’m in love with you.”
A moment of silence passes. Then another.
Another.
Suddenly it’s all I hear. No response. Just a gradual widening of Aidan’s eyes. It’s not the response I’d hoped for. Panic spikes, but I tamp it down and focus on keeping my voice level. “Are you going to say something?” I ask.
“You’re in love with me,” he states, dumbstruck.
An ill feeling worms itself into my stomach. I’m not sure what I expected. Actually, that’s a lie. I know what I expected. I expected Aidan to smile, his face brimming with joy, and place a smacking kiss on my mouth, telling me he loved me, too. Yet I’m left with his surprise, shock. And more silence.
The feel of his skin is too much. “You don’t love me back,” I say, the words tearing at something in me. Is he ashamed of me? Is that it? I don’t drink anymore. I’m trying to change my attitude, but it’s not going to happen overnight. I’m trying. It’s enough for me, but is it enough for him?
He goes still. His hands on my waist feel cold. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. I can see it written all over your face.” God, I’m an idiot. Also, extremely confused. I thought Aidan wanted this? He said he didn’t do casual hookups. He said he got emotionally attached. Was it wrong of me to confess my feelings when I thought he’d be happy, when I thought he felt the same? Apparently not.
Maybe all he wanted was exclusive dating. Emotional connection, but never to the point of love. Caring, yes, and trust.
Love, I guess, was never in the cards.
The walls begin to collapse against me, and the floor, the ceiling. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. “I gotta go.” Pulling away from him, I almost fall onto my ass from how swiftly I exit the bed, searching on the ground for my clothes, which I pull on in a hurry. I can’t find my shirt, so I forget about it and shove my feet into my sneakers. I’ll buy another one later.
“Sebastian.” Aidan gets out of bed, reaching for me, but I’m already out the door.
Unsurprisingly, I find myself at the soccer field. When something in my life goes to shit, soccer is the one thing I can return to time and again, the one thing I can depend on. It’s me and the ball. Me and the goal. Me and the field streaming out before me like a green carpet, beckoning me onward. When I’m flying downfield, I’m close enough to touch my dreams. That’s why I keep running, hoping someday I’ll attain them. Some days, it feels like I will. Most days, it feels like I won’t.
Okay. So confessing my feelings to Aidan didn’t go down as planned. On the contrary, they crashed and burned. Fine. That’s life. I’ve failed before. I’ve taken hits, broken bones. That never stopped me from getting back up, and it’s not going to stop me now.
It feels different though. More acute, I would say. I’m either going to have to find a different tutor or lose sleep and study math like a fiend in hopes that I can pass the next exam. It will probably have to be the latter because I never want to step into the building where Aidan’s office is again if I can help it. That would be too embarrassing.
You know what the worst part is? Deep down, I thought I had this in the bag. I wanted this man, and he wanted me too. It should have worked out. So why didn’t it? Bad timing? Bad luck? Not in the cards? Whatever it is, it sucks.
“Sebastian.”
The sound of Aidan’s voice behind me locks up my shoulders. I don’t turn around. I can’t. The blenchers stretch out on either side of me, the metal bench creaking as I lean forward and rub my hands over my face. “No offense, Aidan, but I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like to lick my wounds in peace.” I have my pride. He doesn’t feel the same way. Whatever. I’ll get over it—eventually. But that won’t happen if he’s around. Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t work quite like that.
“Are you even going to listen to what I have to say?” He doesn’t sound upset. He sounds patient. Like he’s willing to wait, if needed.
That’s what makes me turn around. My eyes are red. Yeah, I bawled like a god-damned baby on the drive over here. It’s been a difficult month, and I had too much hope in things working out.
“You’ve been crying,” he says, taking a step forward.
I do a slow clap. Call me an ass, but I’m not interested in talking right now. “Give this guy a medal. He sees everything!” My hands drop, and I glare through the hot blur. “Seriously, Aidan. Not in the mood.”
At this, he makes a sound of disgust. “There you go again. Me, me, me. So you get to decide when and where we have this conversation? You won’t even let me say my part.”
“Because you’ve already made it clear where you stand!” I shout, flinging up my arms and leaping to my feet. The cool night air whispers against my sweaty skin, trying to soothe me, but I won’t have it. I’m allowed to be hurt.
“If you would have stayed ten seconds longer,” he says in exasperation, “you would have heard me say I feel the same way about you.”
It takes a second to process what he’s telling me. “What?”
His smile is amused, a little shy. My heart starts beating a mile a minute. I’m sprinting toward this feeling of love and being loved in return. Hope: it’s a dangerous, powerful thing. “Did I stutter?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
His hand hovers over my arm, silently asking permission to touch me. I scoot closer, allowing him to pull me to his chest. It’s a good thing his arms are so long, because I’m much bulkier than Aidan is, though he has a few inches on me height-wise. “Because you took me by surprise. I thought I’d have to wear you down slowly over a few months. I didn’t realize you were already at that point. And I’ve never been the best with words anyway.”
That’s true. Actions are where Aidan’s heart truly speaks.
Deep breath. Let it out. Tentatively, I rest my head on his chest. “So if I were to say it again, that I’m falling in love with you, what would you say?”
He waits until I lift my head. His eyes shine. “I would say that’s good, because I’m in love with you, too.”
That confession sucks all the air out of my lungs. I’m trembling. Shit. Who knew that deep down, this soccer star was secretly a little kid wanting love and acceptance, just like everyone else? To be told he was enough for love?
Yeah, not me.
Aidan chuckles. “You’re speechless. That’s new.”
I let out a huff of air and tug him closer. Our chests brush. There’s never been a better feeling. “You know, if you would have told me this from the start, you could have saved me a lot of grief.”
“Don’t you like it when life keeps you on your toes?”
I don’t answer, choosing instead to trace various shapes against the soft cotton of his shirt. “So you love me. And I love you. And most of all, you love coming to my soccer games.”
Aidan blanches, and I laugh. “I didn’t say that,” he says nervously.
“I’m thinking
I’ll probably keep you around a while.” My smile can’t get any bigger. It splits my entire face in half. “How long are you willing to stick?”
“As long as you’ll have me.” He’s serious, staring down at me as if I’m the answer to every problem he could never solve.
I whisper, “And if it’s forever?” Looking forward, I see Aidan by my side through the best and the worst, the thick and the thin. When the world passes us by, I want to be by his side, always.
He presses a gentle kiss to my mouth, lingering. “Then let forever begin.”
More M/m Romance by Mackenzie
Out of Bounds (Blue Devils #2)
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for your purchase! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Reviews are critical for authors, as they help readers find books they might enjoy!
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Acknowledgements
My thanks goes out to my family, for their love and support, and to Beth, for all of the amazing advice and guidance!
About the Author
Mackenzie Gray read her first romance novel while flying on an airplane at age thirteen—a rather scandalous affair. Many years later, she decided to try writing one herself. That book, thankfully, will never see the light of day.
When she’s not writing, you can find her traveling, gorging on chocolate, or watching Ever After reruns, sometimes all at the same time.
Also by Mackenzie Gray
Blue Devils
Playing the Field
Out of Bounds
One Last Shot
Sebastian (The Dumonts Book 1) Page 16