Trick Play

by Eden Finley

  “Eww, I ain’t putting that cheap shit near my junk.”

  “Oh, sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t realize you were a connoisseur of hand lotions.”

  Instead of throwing me a comeback, Matt reaches for my jeans and takes them off the rest of the way. “We have our mouths. And our hands. I’ll fuck you when you move in.” He climbs on the end of the bed, and his head dips, his mouth so close to my aching, swollen cock, but I grip his hair and pull his head back.

  “You want me to move in with you?”

  “Isn’t that what you meant when you said you were moving to Chicago?”

  “Uh … no. I didn’t think that far ahead, only that I want to be with you. But I want to live with you. Yes, I want to move in with you.”

  This time when his head moves toward my cock, I don’t stop him. He swallows me down with that talented mouth of his, and as much as I love it, I want more.

  “Matt.” I pull him up, and his body slides over me. Precum and his saliva mix, and our cocks align, grinding against each other easily. When Matt rocks his hips, my eyes roll back in my head. “Goddamn it.”

  He continues to move over me, frotting against me while he whispers claiming words over my skin and my new favorite three words: I love you.

  When we both become frantic, I grab his ass and ride out my pleasure. He pushes harder to the point the headboard bangs against the hotel wall, but I don’t care if Matt’s teammates are on the other side. I’m so far past gone I need to come.

  As I think I can’t take anymore, Matt shudders above me, and it triggers my release.

  Moans and hard breaths is all I hear when Matt buries his head in my shoulder, but then a voice that doesn’t belong to either of us says, “Umm …”

  “Talon.” Matt scrambles off me and covers me with the sheet while he wraps the comforter around his waist.

  His teammate stares blankly at us, his mouth hanging open. “Umm …”

  I wonder if that’s the only thing he can say.

  Matt doesn’t know what to say either.

  When my gaze travels over Talon and lands on a very obvious bulge in his pants, I wonder how long he was watching us and why a straight guy would get turned on by that. I don’t have time to overanalyze before Talon finally regains his composure.

  “I’m glad you guys got your shit together, but uh, no visitors in the rooms.”

  Right. “That’s my cue,” I say and go to get up.

  “Wait,” Talon says. “I’ll, uh, go down to the hotel bar for a drink while you … uh, dress. And, umm, yeah … drink. Bar.”

  If I was ever curious to know what two hundred pounds of awkward looked like, I’m staring at it as Talon tries to leave. He opens the door, but it gets stuck on his big foot. That doesn’t stop him from trying to walk through the half-open door. He headbutts the edge and lets out a curse.

  “Shit, are you all right?” Matt asks.

  Talon waves him off and rushes out the door.

  “I need to go talk to him,” Matt says.

  “Okay. Maybe I can get a room, and—”

  “It’s like school camp for me right now.” Matt rummages for his clothes and starts dressing. “Even if I were to sneak out of my room, this hotel is fully booked with the team. I won’t be able to leave without someone knowing.”

  I climb out of bed. “Guess I’m keeping my scheduled flight home then.”

  Matt deflates. “This sucks. I don’t want you to go, but—”

  “I understand. This is your job, and I’m not supposed to be here. I’ll go home to New York and pack and—”

  “Crap. What about JJ?”

  “He can stay at the house however long he needs it. Look after it for me while I’m gone.”

  “What if you set up your charity here and then the Warriors dump me? Maybe we should sit down and think—”

  I step forward. “Babe. I’m going where you go. I don’t care how we make it work or what we have to do to make it happen. It’s happening. Got it?”

  Matt nods. “Got it.”

  “Now, go talk to your freaked-out roommate, and I’ll see you in a few weeks. In our apartment.”

  “Our apartment.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Matt

  How the hell do I play this? Casual. Calm. Apologetic?

  Maybe I should’ve got Noah to apologize. He made me launch myself at him and totally forget about the fact I have a roommate that could’ve come back at any moment.

  I stare at Talon sitting at the hotel bar a little longer than I probably should, but he doesn’t appear freaked out. He’s not chugging drinks, he doesn’t look pale or sickened by what he saw. He sits there sipping his scotch or bourbon—whatever the dark liquid is—with a concentration line across his forehead.

  Taking a deep breath, I approach and pull the stool up next to him. “So, uh … that happened.” Great opener, Matt.

  Talon snorts.

  “I just want to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Noah agreed to move to Chicago, and I kind of jumped him. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry for putting you in this weird position, and it won’t happen again, and—”

  “Whoa, Jackson. It’s okay. Wait, do you think I’m pissed you were hooking up in our room? You think I haven’t seen that type of shit before on the road?”

  True. I’ve been kicked out of shared hotel rooms over the years, but this is different. “Not with two guys, no.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t care you’re with a guy. I thought we already established that? I think I fucked up. I wasn’t expecting it, and instead of doing what I normally do, which is back away as quietly as I can and disappear for an hour or so, I froze … and now I feel like a creep. For, like, watching and stuff.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Not for ages or anything. I was taken off guard and I couldn’t move, and then it was all over, and I had to say something or you would’ve thought I’d been there the whole time, but I wasn’t, and … Oh my God, I’m digging a hole here.”

  I laugh. “Can we totally forget this ever happened? You’re not a creep. I’ll never sneak Noah into a hotel room again, and if you ask for a new roommate, I will totally understand.”

  “Not going to ask for a new roommate, dickhead.”

  “Good talk. I’m going to bed … to, uh, sleep. Noah’s gone home.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I mean, probably could’ve done with a heads-up about an hour ago—”

  “Never discussing it again, remember?”

  “Right. I’ll be up soon. Just gonna finish my drink.”

  “Don’t drink too much. Coach will kill you and make tomorrow hell for all of us.”

  “It’s training camp. It’s going to be hell no matter what.”

  “Especially for me,” I murmur.

  Talon throws back the rest of his drink and stands. “You’re not worried about getting cut, are you? We’re untouchables. Coach said so at the press conference.”

  “And what if we’re all fooling ourselves, and we get out there tomorrow, and they’re all gunning for me to fail?”

  “Because you like dudes? You have no faith in the world, do you?”

  “Well, when your own family disowns you for it, you have no expectations when it comes to people you’ve never met.”

  He grabs my shoulder. “Go out there and do your best. You’ll prove you belong on this team.”

  “I’m ready to make football my bitch.”

  Flat on my back, staring up at the clear sky, I wonder what it is about football that I love, because right now I can’t think of a single reason.

  Talon’s laugh hits my ears before his face appears above me. “Is that making football your bitch?”

  I groan as he helps me to my feet. After two weeks, I’m sore all over from being tackled over and over and over again, but I’m killing it. I know I am. I may feel like shit, but if the praise from my coaches is anything to go by, I’m impressing the hell outta them, and that’s
all I care about.

  The only thing bringing down my training—other than exhaustion—is the strain between me and some of the guys. Surprisingly, most of the animosity is on the field. In the locker room, I’m left alone. It’s promising, but I’m not getting my hopes up that it’s going to last.

  The days drag, and I miss Noah like crazy, but now I’m not on the ground, and the pain from my last hit is dimming, I know I’m in the right place. Even sore and exhausted, I can’t stay mad at the game for long.

  We’ve been running scrimmages all day, but when Talon says we’re running the same play that just failed and ended with me getting tackled without the ball in my hand, Carter doesn’t settle for his usual scowl that I’m slowly getting used to. His protest now comes in the form of muttered words so quiet I don’t know what he says.

  I’m fully prepared to let it go, like I have every other little snip someone’s had in passing, but Talon takes his helmet off and charges Carter, bumping pads and getting in his face.

  “Wanna say that louder so the whole class can hear?” Talon says.

  “Talon, drop it.” I try to pull him back.

  “Nah, if he’s got a problem, we need to sort it. Speak up or forever shut your face.”

  The offensive coach runs in from the sidelines, and Coach Caldwell is hot on his heels. Fuck a duck. “Problem?” Coach asks.

  Carter looks between Talon and me and then to the coaches. “Not at all.”

  “Then let’s run this fucking play and get it done,” Talon says.

  Talon off the field is a playful, cheery guy who’s a great friend. Quarterback Talon is this commanding presence who’s all bossy and arrogant. It’s kinda hot.

  We get into the line of scrimmage, and I face off with Henderson, one of the team captains.

  “Lovers’ quarrel?” he taunts but then he falters. “Shit. Probably shouldn’t use that line with you or I’ll get in trouble.”

  This is what’s going to end up driving me and the rest of the team crazy. They’re walking on eggshells, thinking they can’t joke about anything they normally would with any of the other guys. Coaches in the past have called the whole team “ladies” as a form of put-down. Now with all the PC shit, they’re all going to be afraid to say anything at all. No, they shouldn’t say it, but I don’t want to be treated differently either.

  “Say whatever you want to me, Henderson. You’ll be doing it while I run circles around you.”

  He laughs, and the tactic works, because after the snap, I pivot and run past him. Unlike the last play, where I was tackled before I even got to the ball, I hit my mark only to be beaten out by Carter stealing my fucking pass.

  Oh, hell no.

  Next thing I know, I’ve got my hands on his jersey, and we butt helmets. “What. The. Fuck.”

  Carter pushes me off him. “Didn’t think you’d get there in time. Some of us are here because we don’t need a gimmick to get us a pass.”

  An eerie silence falls on the field. And then? I burst into laughter. I laugh so hard I can barely breathe. “Are you serious right now? You think I got my place on this team because I’m gay? Like I’m using that to my advantage?” I laugh some more, and by now the coaches and the rest of the team surround us.

  We really are like school kids.

  “Jackson, are you okay?” Coach Caldwell asks.

  “Peachy. My teammates think I’m waving the rainbow flag to get special treatment and don’t believe I deserve to be here, but sure, I’m fantastic. Let’s see, I was outed against my will, shoved in front of the press who liked to ask personal questions about my sex life, and then I had to take a pay cut because of the stupid salary cap and no one else wanting me. Yeah, I totally did this all on purpose, Carter. Maybe I’ll accuse you of only getting your wide receiver position because you’re black. How would that go over?”

  “What the fuck you just say?” Carter tries to get to me, but Miller pulls him back.

  “I’m just pointing out your logic is flawed.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself,” Coach says, “but you do, Carter. You were explicitly told—”

  “No,” I cut in. “This is his problem. This is everyone’s problem. I have upper management fighting my battles for me.” I turn to Carter. “You want to apologize now or go head to head with me? Suicides. Full gear. Keep going until one of us drops. I kick your ass, you drop the attitude and acknowledge that using my sexuality to get ahead is the most ridiculous plan anyone could ever think of, because it wouldn’t work. It works against me in everything. Even having to prove it to you right now. You beat me, you can take all the passes you want from me.”

  “Dude, so not a bet you want to make,” Miller says.

  “He can take him.” Talon says. “Fifty bucks on Jackson.”

  I look at the coaches, and the glimmer in their eyes lets me know they’re on board even though their scowls say they shouldn’t be.

  “Gonna eat your words?” I ask Carter.

  He lifts his chin in challenge. “You’re on.”

  It takes less than a few minutes of suicides for me to realize what I’ve gotten myself into. Adrenaline is replaced with pain as my limbs ache, my chest heaves, and I’m ready to vomit, but there is no way I’m giving up. I will die before I let Carter beat me.

  We’re on display for the entire team, plus the coaches, but that’s a good thing. I should only have to do this once to shut them all up about deserving my spot with the Warriors.

  The fact I have to do this at all reiterates the reason why no one comes out in this sport. Maybe I shouldn’t have given in and should have squashed the need to prove myself, but if this gets the assholes off my back, then I’m willing to do it.

  I push distractions aside and focus on the end goal, which I can’t quite remember what that is when my muscles burn with lactic acid. Still, I don’t give up.

  I won’t. Ever.

  It takes a hell of a lot longer than I expect and so many rounds of suicides I lose count of how many we’re up to when Carter finally trips over his feet and falls.

  “Thank fuck,” I mutter and drop to my knees.

  Water comes at me from somewhere, I don’t know where, but I don’t hesitate. I rip my helmet off and guzzle it down.

  “Pissing contest over then?” Coach Caldwell asks.

  “Over,” I say breathlessly and refuse to look at Carter.

  “So, this is done?” Coach asks.

  Carter’s voice comes out as a rasp, but his finality is clear. “Done.”

  “You two are dismissed for the rest of the day. Make sure you warm down properly, or you’ll be useless to us tomorrow.” Coach turns to the rest of the team. “Break over! Get back to it.”

  One challenge down, and I really hope there isn’t more to come.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Noah

  The moment Matt told me he loved me, I knew I would never experience that type of high ever again, but this one is a close second.

  “You’re not moving to Chicago,” Dad says from behind his massive desk.

  “Uh, yeah, pretty sure I am.” I can’t stop smiling, and I think that pisses him off even more. Or maybe it’s my feet resting on the precious mahogany desk that has him pissed. Either way, I don’t care.

  “You need to make public appearances with your mother and me, and your charity is an affiliate of this campaign. You can’t be across the country.”

  I stand. “Oh, forgot to tell you. Spoke to the family’s finance guy. He’s willing to release a huge chunk of my trust so the charity is all mine. No longer affiliated, no longer your puppet, and no longer my father.”

  Dad stands too and leans over his desk. “Noah, you can’t do this.”

  “You should’ve thought of that before you tried to pay off yet another one of my boyfriends. Backfired this time, didn’t it? And the thing that gets me the most is you still don’t see anything wrong with what you did. You, of all people—someone who married someone outside hi
s race and class against his father’s wishes—should know what you’re doing won’t work. I was willing to put the Nathaniel thing in a folder labeled it should never have happened, but then you go and do it again?”

  “I thought Matt would’ve taken the deal. Just like I knew Nathaniel would. He didn’t love you, and I was doing what was best for you.”

  I laugh. “Like that makes it any better? It’s always either the campaign or money. It has nothing to do with me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I want to believe you, I really do, but when Matt didn’t accept your deal, you threatened to take my charity away so he’d keep his mouth shut. We broke up, thanks to you. You’re done trying to dictate my life, Father. If you want me to keep playing the doting son for the press and make public appearances, you will leave me and Matt the fuck alone.”

  He stares at me as if I’m backing him into a corner, but he still doesn’t realize he did this himself.

  “I’m done here.” I turn to leave but he stops me.

  “Leave the charity linked to the campaign. I don’t want to lose you from my life, Noah. And not because of the election. Because you’re my son. Despite what you believe, I did it for you. Not me.”

  “Will you let Matt and I live whatever kind of life we want?” I’m probably pushing my luck, but I’m on a roll.

  “As long as you’re not making press headlines, I’ll even invite you two home to family dinners when you’re available.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  It’s the best outcome I could ask for, even though I’d love nothing more than to not have to deal with the man ever again. If Matt can still support his parents, I can placate my father.

  Look at me being the bigger man.

  I blame Matt for it. The adorably nice bastard.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. “We done now?” I ask Dad. “My boyfriend is calling me.”

  “Hope the move to Chicago is smooth.” Dad’s glare doesn’t match his pleasant words.