The Quarterback

by Mackenzie Blair

  As if sensing his need, Matt released his wrists and reached under Trevor to grab his cock. Trevor pushed up onto his knees, and Matt continued to rut against him, faster and faster. Matt held his cock just a bit too tight, pulling a bit too roughly, and then he bit into Trevor’s neck again, this time enough to leave a mark.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Trevor cursed.

  This only spurred Matt on more, his restraint clearly gone. He shoved his free hand into Trevor’s hair, yanked it back, and then kissed him roughly. Biting and nipping at Trevor’s lips, then thrusting his tongue in deep as his hips slammed along Trevor’s ass. Trevor urged him on, reaching back to hold Matt’s hips in a bruising grip as they both raced toward their orgasm. When Matt released his hair and twisted his nipple, hard, Trevor cursed and shot all over the bedspread, his orgasm slamming through his body. Matt followed a moment later, his seed hot and wet against Trevor’s ass.

  They both collapsed, lying there for long minutes, breathing hard, Matt heavy on top of him.

  “We were supposed to be studying,” Matt finally managed to say.

  “Screw studying,” Trevor replied, boneless and lazy.

  Matt chuckled, but sat up. Trevor could feel Matt’s eyes on his ass, staring at the come smeared all over his butt cheeks and lower back. A second later, Matt tentatively reached out and rubbed some into Trevor’s skin, marking him.

  “Oh fuck, you have a seriously kinky side,” Trevor praised. “Thank god.” He bucked his hips up in approval. And then he shouted out a curse when Matt dared to rub some of his come into Trevor’s asshole with his thumb.

  “Shit. You like that, babe?” Matt groaned above him as Trevor clenched his asshole then released it. “Do you ever . . .?”

  “What?” Trevor looked over his shoulder.

  “Bottom?” Matt whispered.

  Trevor nodded. “I’m versatile.” He reached back and squeezed Matt’s thigh. “Besides, it’s a rite of passage, taking it up the ass to get your queer card.”

  “Really?” Matt practically squeaked, pulling back.

  Trevor smirked, rolling onto his side. “No. Some gay guys don’t ever do anal. But, damn, you’re fun to toy with.” He leaned up and pecked Matt on the lips. “Don’t worry. We can take it slow. There’s no pressure.” Trevor slid off the bed and grabbed his towel. “But now I have to go shower, because there’s no way I can study covered in your jizz.”

  Matt laughed and cleaned himself up with some tissues as Trevor grabbed his shower caddy. “I’ll be on my best behavior when you return,” Matt promised.

  “Only because your dick is exhausted,” Trevor said, unimpressed.

  “Are you daring my dick to wake up again?”

  Trevor held up his hands in mock surrender and headed out. He almost started to whistle on the way to the bathroom. Which was weird as fuck. He so did not whistle. Apparently his new boyfriend was turning him into an animated cartoon of happiness. He’d have to keep that in check with a lot of R-rated sex. Yeah, hot, dirty sex. That he could do.

  How the hell had they missed the extra point? Matt threw back his beer, still pissed. They’d lost the game. They were now ranked number two in their conference.

  He knew it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. They were still heading for the National Championships at this rate, and would probably even get a bye in the first round. But it still pissed him off.

  Coach had sent in Fischer to kick. When the opposing team had broken through their lines, Fischer had panicked and kicked wide. It was a rookie mistake. If Matt weren’t so pissed about losing, he’d be happy the shithead had screwed up so royally. He figured Fischer had a lot of bad karma coming his way. Being practically booed off the field couldn’t have happened to a more deserving asshole.

  Matt had talked to the Coach afterward. From here on in, Jamal would be their kicker—he was good, damn good. With just the right balance of fear and cockiness. He was also currently sandwiched between two hot girls on the makeshift dance floor who were trying to console him with their gyrating hip action. Matt hoped like hell that would shut Fischer up for the night with the gay slurs. Last time he saw Fischer and O’Donnell, they were getting wasted in the keg room. Matt was mildly impressed O’Donnell had stood by his friend while the rest of the team was pretty pissed at Fischer. O’Donnell had loyalty—too bad he had shitty taste in friends.

  As Matt watched Jamal grind against the girls, he was pretty sure the dude was totally straight. He was pretty though. Matt shook his head. He probably should’ve noticed that sooner—but he wasn’t Trevor. Trevor, who had turned him on for years with his dark hair that he’d pull up into a topknot . . . and the sexy pieces that would slip out, teasing his neck. That piercing in his eyebrow that gave him a bit of a bad-boy edge along with his clothing. His body that was lean and . . . Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about him.

  Matt sighed, knocking back the rest of his beer. Beside him, Danielle sat on Connor’s lap, whispering comforting words in his ear. She reached over and squeezed his knee.

  “Don’t look so sad, Matt. It wasn’t your fault,” she consoled.

  Connor nodded, slapping Matt on the back. “One loss, right? It happens. We’ll still probably get a bye in the Championships.”

  “A what?” Danielle crinkled her brow.

  “Not every team plays in the first two rounds, babe. Some automatically advance. It’s called a ‘bye,’” Connor explained.

  “Oh, that’d be sweet!” she exclaimed. “You two could actually have Thanksgiving this year.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” Matt said. “I’m actually looking forward to it.” Which wasn’t a total lie. He was taking his sisters to his aunt and uncle’s. He only had to survive the night before with his father, and even he could manage that.

  “God, please don’t let today screw up our chances.” Connor groaned.

  “You’ll be fine,” Danielle assured him, and then she apparently decided it was Phase Two of her cheer-up plan, which included shoving her tongue down Connor’s mouth. Matt cringed and looked away.

  He scanned the party for an escape. Ryan and Damian were shaking off the loss with a raucous round of beer pong out on the patio. But he didn’t really feel in the mood to join them. He could head upstairs and see what they had going on in the game room. Last time he checked, though, it was Madden NFL, and he sure as hell wasn’t up to that. And Brett was busy trying to turn a straight dude for the night. The guy was shameless. And so openly gay it hurt Matt’s soul to watch. He envied the hell out of him.

  “Matt? Matt, are you even listening?” Danielle snapped.

  “Sorry, what?” Matt said with an apologetic grin. Clearly, he’d been tuning her out for the last minute since she’d decided to stop sucking Connor’s face.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “You need to officially ask Jocelyn to be your date for Homecoming. I mean, I’ve told her the plan, but still be a gentleman, huh? At least, text her.”

  “Shit, sorry, I forgot,” he mumbled, and pulled out his phone. He sent Jocelyn a text making it very clear he was asking her “as a friend.”

  She replied almost immediately with a series of emojis that pretty much meant yes. Matt shook his head. Girls were weird. He scrolled through his texts to see the most recent one from Trevor. It had been waiting for him in the locker room: sorry about game. i’d let u score xo.

  Matt felt himself smiling again like a goon. He quickly looked over to Connor to see if he’d been caught mooning over his boyfriend. But Connor was now sucking Danielle’s face. They’d been hot and heavy for the past few weeks, Connor spending most of his time in her single. Otherwise, he was sure his best friend would have realized he was finally getting some . . . on a regular basis.

  But Connor hadn’t said a damn thing. And Matt didn’t know how to bring it up. He’d promised Trevor though that he’d tell Connor. But there never seemed to be the right moment. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready yet to tell any of his friends a
bout Trevor. He wasn’t ashamed or anything. Embarrassed maybe. By the kinds of questions his buddies might ask. They’d want to meet Trevor and grill him . . . and things would suddenly get more complicated.

  Matt jumped when his phone dinged. His pulse sped up when he saw it was from Trevor: celebrating?

  Matt bit his lip, now feeling even more guilty. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he hiding Trevor from Connor? It was time to stop. Time to man up. And the beers were enough liquid courage to type back: at kappa house. Wanna come? Jamal here 2. He knew he added the last part as a cowardly move. Using Jamal as a bit of a shield. But, whatever, it was a step.

  So he hit Send. He held his breath as he waited . . . and waited. Thirty seconds later his phone dinged with a simple: ok.

  Matt almost whooped and did a victory dance. But he held back. Instead, he headed to the bathroom to make sure he looked good, then decided to watch some of the beer pong to make the time go faster while he waited. After about twenty minutes, Matt decided he needed another drink before Trevor arrived and headed over to the bar. He was in luck, because Brett was behind it grabbing the good stuff they kept hidden away for VIP guests only.

  “Brett!” Matt called out.

  Brett looked up, clocked Matt with a grin, and grabbed another glass. He poured them both a shot, snagged them two more beers, and then joined Matt in the corner of the room.

  “You look better. About fucking time.” Brett laughed, clinking their shot glasses together. “So you lost, big deal.”

  “Thanks, man, that pep talk was super helpful,” Matt joked, then tossed back his tequila. He looked back toward the main entrance, keeping an eye out for Trevor. Of course, Brett noticed.

  “You waiting for someone?”

  Matt shrugged, trying not to blush. He failed.

  “Ah, man, you got a chick coming, don’t you?”

  Not even close. “Maybe,” Matt said with another shrug.

  Brett laughed, clearly thinking he was playing coy. “Jocelyn’s gonna be pissed. It’s not her, right?”

  Matt shook his head. “No, we’re just friends.” But did everyone think he was fucking Jocelyn? Hell, she was probably spreading the rumor.

  “Don’t worry,” Brett said, apparently misinterpreting his silence. “Everyone knows you’re not exclusive. You may be discreet, but Damian and Ryan love to brag about your hookups.”

  “They do?” Matt asked in shock. Maybe that was how he’d been able to stay in the closet so long. His friends were making up fake conquests for him.

  “Oh yeah. They love talking pussy to me. I think they get a perverse joy out of making the queer cringe.”

  Matt felt himself cringe a little on the inside too. Brett still seemed oblivious. Clearly, Brett’s gaydar sucked, and the thought made Matt chuckle.

  He gave his buddy a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, man, I had no idea they were, uh, sharing my conquests.” Matt also didn’t know if he wanted to thank them for the cover or kick their asses.

  “No worries. I get around myself.” Brett leered. “Who the fuck wants monogamy?”

  Matt grimaced. Well, he did. He actually really did. Just not with a girl. Wouldn’t that set the campus on its ear? Matt took a sip of his beer, glad that he had never wanted to go professional and get picked up by the NFL. After he graduated, he wanted to move far away and come out of the closet. He wanted to sleep in on the weekends, maybe be super metro and go to brunch, rather than doing stadiums in the sweltering heat or icing his aching body. Were guys allowed to drink mimosas?

  His eyes strayed to the front door once more, and this time he was rewarded by the sight of Trevor, looking hot as hell in dark jeans, a plaid button-down rolled at the sleeves, and leather wrist cuffs. His hair was pulled back into a haphazard knot. Next to him stood a curly-haired girl with big brown eyes that he guessed was Emily, Trevor’s best girl friend.

  “That must be her,” Brett said, apparently noticing Matt’s big, stupid smile.

  Matt quickly tried for a nonchalant shrug. “Um, yeah. I should go say hi.”

  Brett pulled him back. “Uh-uh, not until you tell me who she’s with. He’s hot as fuck.”

  Matt’s hands curled into fists as a streak of jealousy raced through him. But of course Brett was checking Trevor out. So were most of the chicks, too. He stood out in a crowd with his gorgeous looks, so unforgettable in a sea of scruffy white boys. What the hell was Trevor doing with a closeted jock like him?

  But then Trevor seemed to feel his gaze, and his eyes locked with Matt. Just a small tilt of his lips, the faintest smile, and Matt knew it was for him. Matt moved forward, patting Brett on his chest to stay. “I’ll introduce you later. He’s my tutor. But I need to say hi to Emily first.”

  Matt headed their way, then realized Emily would probably want to shake his hand when Trevor did the introductions, which would be a clear giveaway to Brett, who was still watching, so he snagged two beers in red cups from a passing pledge.

  “Hey,” Matt said as he reached them.

  “Hey,” Trevor said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Uh, this is Emily. Emily, this is Matt. I’m tutoring him in Statistics.”

  Matt gave her a big smile, glad to finally meet the infamous Emily. And hopefully win her approval. “Hey,” he said in greeting, then handed her a beer. “I got you a beer so you don’t have to wait in line.”

  “Oh, thanks,” she said with a huge smile. “That’s so sweet of you.”

  Matt shrugged and handed the other one to Trevor. Trevor used his finger to stir away some of the foam and then, with pure devilish evil, slowly licked his finger.

  Matt looked quickly away, gulping down his beer. “You’re a shit,” he mumbled.

  Trevor chuckled.

  Emily looked between them, lost on the inside joke. Had Trevor not told her about them?

  From the big, flirty smile she was aiming at Matt, apparently not. “I’m sorry about your loss tonight,” she shouted over the hip-hop song that was playing.

  “Thanks.” Matt shrugged nonchalantly. “It happens.”

  “Your kicker must feel pretty shitty. Poor guy,” she added with a sympathetic look for Fischer, who really didn’t deserve her pity.

  “He’ll live,” Matt said. “Trust me, he’s kind of an asshole.”

  “Oh, that sucks,” Emily said, crinkling up her brow in a way straight men probably found adorable. She turned to Trevor in confusion. “But I thought you tutored the kicker and that’s why we were here? You said he was sweet.”

  “The backup kicker, Jamal,” Trevor clarified, then turned to Matt. “Why didn’t he go in for the play?”

  Matt looked at Trevor, surprised. So, Trevor watched all the games now, did he? Trevor seemed to read his mind and tried to look away as if it were no big deal. But it was. It really was.

  “Seniority,” Matt explained. “But it won’t happen again. Jamal will be up next time. For now, he’s over there pounding shots to drown his sorrows.” Matt pointed to Jamal across the room.

  Emily turned to Trevor and nudged his shoulder. “You should go say hi.” Trevor hesitated. “That’s why we came, right?” she added.

  “Uh, yeah, okay,” Trevor replied, turning away. But Emily stayed firmly rooted in her spot, sipping her beer. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

  Emily shook her head, “Nah, I’ll stay here with Matt. He wants to dance.”

  “I do?” Matt said.

  “You definitely do,” she teased, linking her arm through Matt’s. “Unless you already have someone to dance with?”

  “Um, nope, no one,” Matt stammered, not really sure how to answer that.

  Emily gave Trevor the stink eye, and Matt knew that look. She wanted to be alone with him. Trevor seemed as stumped as Matt on how to deal with her obvious interest, so he shrugged and headed toward Jamal. Coward.

  Clearly, they should have included Emily in their circle of trust. But now was not the time for confessions. So Matt let her squeeze his arm wh
ile also attempting to communicate the platonic vibe.

  Emily smiled up at him. “You don’t like dancing, do you?”

  “Not really,” Matt admitted. Even though that wasn’t totally the truth. He loved to dance. He was pretty good too. But if anyone saw him, he felt like they’d just know he was gay. White boys were not supposed to be able to dance. Not straight ones, at least.

  Oblivious to his thoughts, Emily laughed, not pushing the issue. “So, what’s Trevor tutoring you in?”

  “Statistics,” Matt answered, taking a long gulp of his beer. “How do you two know each other?”

  “Freshman year dorm. We both hated our roommates, so we hid out together in the lounge. He’s also . . . different, you know?”

  “Different how?” Matt asked, curious as hell. There were a million questions he wished he could ask her.

  “Like . . . he’s going somewhere,” Emily replied.

  “Literally or figuratively?”

  Emily laughed. “Both I guess. He wants to backpack through Europe, and I am so going with him. He dreams of hooking up with hot French dudes.”

  “Oh,” Matt said, hating that he wasn’t French. Would never be French. But French guys would so love Trevor.

  “Uh, you know he’s gay, right?” Emily twisted a piece of hair nervously, clearly misinterpreting his silence.

  “Yeah, sure, of course. Uh, let me get you another beer,” Matt stupidly stammered, but he managed to throw out one of his patented charming smiles, and then escaped toward the keg in the back room.

  Matt chugged a few beers himself for courage and then grabbed another for Emily. Half an hour later, he was feeling pretty damn tipsy. And pissed off.

  Because Brett hadn’t waited for an introduction. No, he’d swooped in on Trevor the first moment he could. Now Brett and Trevor were flirting at the edge of the dance floor, and Matt felt a bit sick watching it.