break point: a m/m romance novella

by Daya Daniels

  Channing is a dangerous prospect.

  He’s a man who only breaks hearts and promises.

  Leaves carnage behind in his lusty wake.

  He’s a man who—like a thrift store rack—I should majorly steer clear of. Or any man should for that matter…

  Yet, still, I find myself wanting him.

  What does that even mean?

  channing

  I’VE SPENT ALL MY free time, which hasn’t been much, on this tennis court practicing.

  And practice makes perfect, right?

  We’re at the end of the third set. I’m losing. Rupert, the veteran, who lingers near the baseline hunched forward and holding his racquet in his palms is currently winning.

  Can’t say I’m surprised there but I’m not letting it discourage me.

  Being paired with better players encourages improvement. Challenges make us better. And being challenged propels us to change. I rehearse Bartholomew’s words, smiling when I accept how much sense they make especially at this moment

  Rupert is a man who polishes up my game.

  And I want to continue to play ball with him regardless of how many times he threatens to walk out of my life by getting a new instructor and/or a new fuck friend. He doesn’t stick to his words. So, something about me has captured his attention for the long term. Or, at least, I hope.

  Scott sips his Perrier. “15-30!”

  I bounce the ball, concentrating on Rupert’s blues. I toss it up the air, reach so high that I’m nearly on my tippy toes then swing.

  WHOP.

  I move!

  The ball rockets in his direction. Immediately, he volleys it back sending it so far to my left that I have to sprint for it. It connects with my racquet and heads to him in a straight line. Rupert hits it back.

  I’m in no mood for rallies today. None-at-all.

  I maneuver across the court at breakneck speed. I whack the ball back, making sure I follow through with my stroke, as Rupert had suggested.

  Running for the ball, he laughs. “I can see you’ve been practicing.”

  Yes, on/in your ass, and occasionally on this tennis court.

  “It’s clearly the only way I’ll win against the best.” I toss my hair.

  Rupert’s racquet connects with the ball. “The best?”

  “Yeah.” I can say it. I have no qualms giving this man props for being a good player.

  “Is that humility I hear in your voice today, Channing?”

  I chuckle.

  “It must be the gorgeous weather out here encouraging you to be so kind.” Rupert scurries across the court using quick footwork and expert posture.

  I scowl.

  The ball goes for the sky. I take a few steps back, setting up my smash and then my racquet connects with the ball.

  WHOP.

  It floats away from me like a neon bomb.

  Rupert runs for it but it’s too late.

  Point

  to

  me.

  Scott shoots up to his feet. “30-30!”

  I waste no time.

  Setting my serve up, my racquet connects with the ball.

  Rupert volleys it back and it lands when it makes it just over the net before the half court line.

  I let out a few unsportsmanlike expletives and pace the baseline.

  Rupert tsks.

  “30-40!” Scott sits back down, eyes peeled on the court.

  Rupert smiles, waiting, his blues narrowed which make me feel oddly defensive.

  “You might be the better and more experienced player here, Rupert. But that doesn’t mean that you still don’t have anything left to learn.” I bounce the ball a few times, preparing to serve.

  His smile is odd. “And what exactly do you think you can teach me, Channing?”

  A laugh rips from me. “Maybe to take what’s offered to you. And that sometimes being an asshole = being a man.”

  “Did you really just say that out loud?” Rupert scowls.

  I have no doubt this man thinks I’m ridiculous, but I go on anyways. “And perhaps to not be ashamed for wanting simple things out of life.” Like unattached sex. “And possibly, just maybe, encouraging you to step outside of your normal, boring, nap-time-filled, CNN-watching, Viagra-popping, prune-juice-drinking, pea-soup-comfort-zone.”

  Surprisingly, Rupert laughs. “You’re such a dick, Channing.”

  “Am I age shaming?” I make a face, caring but not caring.

  “I believe you are.” He ruffles his damp hair.

  “But, isn’t that what you do to me?”

  Rupert only shakes his head, doesn’t answer.

  Bingo.

  Scott’s face is scrunched, eyes darting between overzealous instructor and level-headed student.

  Rupert smirks as he tips his head to the left then drops his racquet to his side.

  I serve anyways.

  WHOP!

  rupert

  BASTARD!

  I wasn’t ready.

  Summoning my inner Brian Marshall, I sprint for the ball and prepare to send it back to Channing, but the top of my racquet scrapes the tarmac. The ball connects with it and goes careening off to my left.

  Channing lets out a high-pitched whistle while looking quite impressed with himself.

  Desperate moves for a desperate man…

  “DEUCE!” Scott shoots up to his feet, brows arched.

  Fuck.

  Channing sends a smile my way gifting me with all his perfect white teeth.

  It makes my dick jump in my shorts and my body crave for more. I wipe the sweat from my face with a towel and pace the court. Then, I look at him again.

  What am I doing?

  Why am I still here?

  Why on earth am I still playing this game with him?

  But which one?

  I need to get serious.

  About this game, my life, my true intentions.

  In the last week, I had kept those phone calls rolling. Every single one of them had gone to voicemail, as expected. You don’t just get to waltz back in someone’s life after leaving/being kicked out of it so long ago. I keep trying though, never discouraged enough to give up. I’d even landed a job at Cal State in their department of English and comparative literature. I just need to buy a house which is what I should be bloody well doing right now. Instead, I’m here.

  I toss the towel and breathe, realizing this man keeps me on my toes and maybe he’s right about all that bullshit. Maybe he has been the driving force behind me doing things a little differently.

  I bite my lip and consider it.

  Maybe, I should try something different. Perhaps, that’s why nothing is working.

  Channing is still smiling, tossing his blond hair like he’s on a movie set and holding the ball in his hand.

  I only smile.

  My life is boring. It is monotonous. It is basic. But that’s adulthood.

  It’s clear Channing is still living in dreamworld which only further confirms how different we are.

  Separated by age.

  Separated by reality.

  Separated by so fucking much.

  Yet, naked and wrapped up in his arms, there is no dividing line that’s readily apparent the way it is right here and now.

  I wipe the sweat away from my face with my forearm and accept that I’ve found myself in a conundrum. I’ve also found myself close to break point. A laugh rips from me right before I assume position waiting for the ball to come my way.

  Channing serves.

  I sprint for it and deliver my best slice. The ball slips past Channing’s racquet, hits his pristine white shoe then goes rolling off the court.

  “Advantage-Rupert!” Scott smiles.

  Channing serves again.

  I rush the net and send the ball far to the left of him. He scrambles but doesn’t make it.

  Two bounces and you’re out.

  “GAAAAAAAAME!” Scott shoots up from his seat.

  I march toward my gym bag an
d pack all my stuff away.

  Channing is still standing in the middle of court looking annoyed.

  I snatch up the duffel, toss it over my shoulder and give my opponent a second worthy glance. “Channing, good game.”

  He nods.

  “I’ll guess I’ll be seeing you in the locker room.”

  A smile stretches across his pretty face.

  With that, I head off with an ego stroked to perfection and a dick hard-as-stone.

  channing

  HE WAITS…

  Muscular back to me and posing, already covered in suds and the scent of cedarwood.

  Steam has filled the shower and the water beats down against the tile.

  I remove my towel and approach, smiling. “This seems to be our thing now.”

  Rupert laughs. “And so it is.” He lifts the loofah and washes me vigorously.

  I shampoo my hair while he’s at it.

  “That was a good game, Channing.”

  “Yeah, but I still lost.”

  He shrugs.

  Then, I do the same.

  “The challenge is what I enjoy the most.” He hangs the loofah on a hook and presses his lips to mine, stunning me.

  “Yeah, me too.” My lips find his again, kissing, nibbling, drawing his tongue into my mouth with an eager motion.

  His hand slides up the back of my neck and he presses his forehead to mine. Our eyes connect—something powerful, questionable lingers between us. Then, he tosses me one hella sexy smile.

  I twist around, shift and pin him to the wall. My lips fuse to his in a desperate kiss. When he attempts to control it, I grip his chin and force him to look at me. His blues dust me with lust. And his chest heaves with every breath he expels. He wriggles again. With a grunt, I plant him against the wall once more. We share a laugh, breathing heavily, challenging our strengths.

  Rupert smiles.

  And it’s then that I know he likes it rough, wants to be dominated by some young buck like me.

  I love it too.

  My other hand slides along his cock—wet, warm, hard—Viagra totally unnecessary.

  I’m an asshole.

  I take back my dumb joke.

  “How rough do you want it?” My lips graze the shell of his ear right before I take the lobe between my teeth and then I’m kissing along his neck, breathing this moment in.

  “As rough as you can give it, Channing.”

  By the hand, I lead him to the bench where he lowers, looking up at me with big eyes. In a smooth move, I force him back and spread his thighs wide, putting everything on display.

  His hand wraps around his cock and tugs at it while I work quickly to roll the condom on my dick. The spectacular and unforgettable vision…His firm pecs. His washboard abs. His toned thighs. And his balls. My god those balls.

  He’s gorgeous.

  I dip down and suck each one of them into my mouth and then I’m sucking between his ass cheeks, tasting him, leaving that hole hungry. When I’m done, I paint his skin with lube and yank him closer, treating him like his meat dangling on my hook.

  Rupert’s lips are pursed.

  Mine are pressed together, my lust skyrocketing to insane levels. I position myself ever so perfectly and then the head of my dick slides into him. His face contorts. His hands search for my forearms and my hands which grip the backs of his thighs forcing them forward. He’s open wide. Spread like a pretty rose. I’m fucking away, lost, grunting, groaning, sweating.

  I tunnel into him, reveling in the sight of my cock sliding in out of his thirsty asshole.

  Stretching.

  Filling.

  Giving him all of me.

  “Harder.” Rupert tugs on his swollen cock.

  Extra cock?

  Coming right up…

  “You want it harder?” My chest heaves.

  His head lifts from the bench. “Isn’t that what I just said!”

  My heart jumps in my chest and my eyes almost fall out of my head at the sudden aggression spewing from this gentle soul. But I obey his order. I do exactly as he demands.

  Message received.

  If this man wants more of my cock, by Christ, I’ll give it to him!

  rupert

  THE BLOND GOD WHO looms above me hisses. Those pretty pink lips of his pout. His body glistens beneath the soft light in here and the steam.

  My eyes remain fixated on his.

  I spread my thighs wider, mewling out his name, groaning each time that delightful cock of his fills my insides and makes them beg for more, more, more.

  His fingers press into my twitching thighs, pushing them back and he picks up speed, slamming into me, his hips going wild against my wet flesh.

  I cry out softly when his cock throbs helplessly deep inside me and I know it’s coming soon.

  He’s going to blow!

  My eyelids lower and I sink into the reality that this man consumes me.

  I could live here, die here, love here.

  It is perfect.

  “I love the way you fuck me.” I smile.

  Channing picks up speed.

  His chest shudders, mouth hangs open, hands shake. My body quakes as if we’re in the middle of The Big One. California has never seen this! My thighs quiver endlessly. Wails leaves me unrestrained.

  My mouth falls open, completely in tune with everything him.

  He fumbles over his own limbs and then he pulls out quickly, leaving me feeling bereft. He scrambles up from his knees to stand and brings his pretty swollen cock to my greedy mouth that’s already open, waiting like the glorious cum catcher it is.

  Sweetly, he palms my face and presses his cock to my top lip while holding on to the entire thing with a firm grip as if he fears it’s going to run away from him.

  Moaning, I’m desperate for the sweet and salty taste of his cum on my tongue.

  A succession of grunts rip from him just as all the muscles in his stomach bunch and flex with each hot spurt as he makes a mess of my mouth with his cum.

  I swallow every-fucking-drop.

  And then he kisses me.

  channing

  STRONG HANDS GLIDE OVER my shoulders and a kiss is pressed to my neck.

  I’m exhausted, desperate for sleep, but I don’t want to stop yet.

  Am I greedy because I want more?

  I glance over my shoulder to find Rupert’s eyes. The head of his cock drags over my ass cheeks. I shut my eyes and divulge my secret. “I have a boyfriend, Rupert.”

  There’s silence.

  When my eyes pop open, I find an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m not surprised.”

  A laugh rumbles my chest. “What does that mean?”

  “It just means you’re that type of guy, Channing, so…”

  I groan when his fingers slide along the crack of my ass then disappear into the hole stretching it. I face forward admiring the wet tile in front of me, arching my back, giving him more access. A condom wrapper tears and lube is painted on my skin. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” I gasp when those fingers dip inside me once more and his other hand massages my balls.

  “I can’t judge, Channing. We all do bad things sometimes.” He groans. “But I do know that we shouldn’t hurt the ones we love.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.” My bones are weak in his grip. I do whatever he wants me to.

  “If we know all we’ll end up doing is hurting them in the end, Channing, we should let them go.”

  I consider his words and then they drift from the front of my mind.

  I mewl when with a squelch when the head of his cock slides past the tight muscle. My moans grow hitch-pitched and frantic when he pushes all the way in. His thighs tremble at first but soon he steadies himself and sinks into a solid rhythm.

  “Ah, fuck me.” I rock my ass into his hips, completely adoring the sensation of being so full of cock. I push back harder, taking him in balls-deep. I crane my neck to find his beautiful contorted expression.

  He cups my cheek
and pulls me in for a vicious kiss, plowing into me harder.

  My mouth gapes, allowing the moans to escape. His lips find mine again and those blue eyes blaze, lips tremble, another harsh that is planted to them leaves my lips sore.

  He moans.

  He groans.

  He practically fucks me into the wall! His hands frantically pull my face to his. Another kiss. A war of tongues. I hold position, mouth wide open, spine threatening to crack from the force of his eager fucking. And then the dirty dirty man spits over and over and over right into my mouth.

  With a moan and a satisfied smile, I lick my lips then swallow it all.

  His groans grow savage and then in a flash, I’m starved for him, empty.

  Rupert rips off the condom and places the head of his cock that pistons like an unmanned firehose to my balls and decorates them with his cum. When he’s done shuddering and growling out my name, he lowers his chest to my back, heaving for breath.

  I only smile and press my forehead to the tile. “I like you, Rupert.”

  “I like you too, Channing.”

  We meet eyes.

  Grinning, he squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever tell anyone you said that.”

  My brows knot.

  “This is our little secret, Channing, to be taken to the grave.” He kisses me again.

  What?

  set three

  rupert

  TWO WEEKS LATER…

  What really brought Channing here today aside from the custom racquet he brought along with him that he’s been begging for me try out is questionable. I accepted the racquet with gratitude.

  And then he kissed me.

  After that, I couldn’t turn him away it seemed.

  Now, we’re here, in the middle of the den of my suite.

  I drag my fingers through Channing’s beautiful blond locks and peer down into his hazel eyes. I press a kiss to his lips and slowly, to my amazement, he eases down to the floor on his knees.

  Those big eyes watch me carefully.

  I don’t move.

  His fingers make quick work of unbuckling the belt of my suit pants and soon I’m free, hanging there, desperate for his touch. I drag my fingers over his lips, sliding them into his mouth and groan when they leave it wet. And then he nips at them with his teeth, smiling, nudging me to play. No words are spoken. Only breaths breathed. Slowly, Channing wraps his hand around my dick and takes me into his mouth.