by Eden Finley
I’m vaguely aware of his hand still jacking him through his orgasm, and I tell myself I should help with that, but I’m dead.
Eventually everything slows and goes quiet, as if the world settles around me into relaxed silence.
“Uh, Talon?”
“Yeah?”
“I kinda need my ass back.”
“Right. You probably need that.” I slip my softening cock from his body slowly, and Miller winces. “You okay?”
“I will be.” He smiles over his shoulder at me.
“Good.” I snuggle in behind him and kiss the back of his neck. We need to get up and clean ourselves before heading downstairs for training, but I don’t want to move.
Miller’s back rises and falls hard with his breaths but as they slow, he becomes fidgety.
I feel like I could go back to sleep again. “Stay still.”
He laughs. “Can’t. I’m uncomfortable and lying in cum.”
With a chuckle, I roll onto my back. “Fine.”
Miller wriggles his way to the edge of the bed and heads to my bathroom. I close my eyes to the sound of water running in there and almost drift off when warm hands land on my junk.
I crack one eye open. “Wha?”
A deep laugh and warm brown eyes meet me. “I’ll get rid of this for you.”
“My dick?”
More laughs. “The condom.”
Oh. That.
He ties it off and takes it into the living-slash-kitchen area. A cabinet door opens and then another. Miller rummages around for a while, but when the telltale noise of the refrigerator opening hits my ears, I smile and prepare for the complaining I know I’m about to get.
“Hey, Talon?” Miller asks.
I sigh and climb out of bed, finding some boxer briefs and sweatpants to throw on.
Miller’s still scanning the contents of my fridge when I emerge. “Where’s all the good food?”
“You’re staring at it. I went shopping yesterday.”
“You went shopping? On Staten Island?”
“Okay, fine. I hired a guy to do it.”
“Who?”
I shrug. “There’s an app where basically you can get anyone to bring you anything.” I approach him and wrap my arm around his bare back. My lips land on his shoulder, and I love the way he melts into my side. “I got egg whites, kale, lots of protein. Superfoods for the win!”
Skeptical eyes meet my innocent ones … well, relatively innocent. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Not with my cooking, at least. I’m only letting you rest for half an hour before going to the gym.”
Miller groans, and unlike a few minutes ago in bed, it’s not a happy groan. It’s an I really don’t want to type of groan.
I saw the way he struggled yesterday during his PT session, but I’ve never known Miller to hate training. He’s one of the hardest workers I know. I’m usually the one pulling him away from a workout or practice to do stupid shit. So, seeing him so against training is disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s only because he’s had months of slacking off while recovering. I know how hard it is to get back into it after the off season. So much so I try not to let myself relax too hard.
“Your leg’s not gonna get better until you get off your ass,” I say.
“Well, thanks to you, my ass is currently wrecked. Can barely walk.”
“We’ll go light today, but we need to do something.”
“Sex counts as a workout.”
This isn’t working. “Okay, how about this: you give me two hours in the gym, I’ll let you have my ass tonight.”
I’ve never seen Miller move faster. Well, since his injury anyway.
“There. Done,” Miller pants. “Sex. Now.”
He’s on his back on the mats in the gym after a set of hand weights, and he can barely lift his arm to try to swat at my ass.
I laugh. “You sure you could handle it right now? You’re moving like a rookie with a hangover.”
“Nope. Can’t move. You’re gonna have to ride me right here.”
I think he’s joking, but I can’t be sure. “In the very public gym? Are you stroking out on me?”
He reaches for me, but I hesitate. I really want to climb on top of him, but even though no one’s come through the gym doors since we came down here two hours ago, we can’t risk it.
Those guys from the other day recognized us, and if they were to walk in again …
“Help me up, jackass,” Miller says.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought …” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
Miller raises a brow at me. “I’m not actually that dumb as to want to hook up in public.”
“Sorry. I know. I just—”
“You freaked out for a second. It’s okay. You have to be careful all the time, no matter what, but I’m not used to it yet, and I didn’t think. I was just goofing off.”
“It sucks even goofing off has lines drawn now.” My immediate thought at Miller’s joke was to freak out about being caught. It more than sucks. “You getting up?”
Miller doesn’t move. “Can’t. I live here now.”
I try not to let my concern show. Toward the end of the session, Miller finally perked up and became the annoyingly focused guy I’m used to him being in a weight room. But getting there … it’s like he’s not one hundred percent committed. He’s lagging and slow, and I understand he’s had months off, so his body’s weak, but I can’t help thinking if his mind is holding him back, not his body.
“We should go do something fun tonight,” I say.
Miller finally climbs to his feet. “I thought the plan I had was fun.” He winces. “But I’m gonna need the use of my arms for that, and I think they’re dead.”
“Maybe we could go hang out with Jackson and Noah?”
“I’ll message their friend Maddox too. He’s cool. He’s kinda the one who gave me the courage to FaceTime you that first time.”
“Ooh, so he’s awesome then? That’s risky, putting us both in the one room. The world might implode with that much awesome in the same place.”
“Mmhmm.” Miller grabs his towel and chugs some water and then heads for the door.
I still love the way he ignores my bullshit.
Going out turns out to be a good idea. Miller’s blah mood vanishes as soon as we enter the bar where we’re meeting Jackson and his friends. His mood lifts even further when I put a light beer in front of him.
“Really, bailiff? I get an actual beer?”
“Have at it.” I worked out today that I’m going about his training all wrong, so I’m going to try a new tactic. Positive reinforcement.
The tough act would’ve worked with old Miller, but his injury has shifted something in his head. He needs to get excited and retrain his brain to give him the right mentality toward his reconditioning.
We learn about sports psychology through team trainers and our coaches, and while I think some of it is hokey, like visualizing a win, I totally see the correlation between being in the right mindset and succeeding. I need to get him back on track.
Seeing as I know Jackson and Noah and know of Damon King from articles and his baseball days, when they enter, I can only figure the shorter blond guy is Maddox.
He’s good-looking, so that counts for something.
Guess I’m noticing the attractiveness of other guys now. Interesting ...
Maddox makes his way over to me, and I see it in his eyes immediately—it’s the look. I’ve been getting it since my college days.
“Football fan?” I ask.
He doesn’t reply.
Miller nudges him. “Hey, you didn’t get all gushy when you met me.”
“You’re not Marcus Talon.”
“Ouch,” Miller says. “You’re no longer my favorite friend of Jackson’s.”
Maddox continues to stare at me, but he still hasn’t said hi.
Damon’s arm goes around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Ignore this one. He
’s a weirdo.”
Maddox snaps out of whatever fanboy trance he was in and turns to him. “A weirdo you’re in love with, so what does that say about you?”
“That I’m not only crazy about you—I’m just plain crazy.”
Maddox leans into Damon. “Marcus Talon needs a wingman tonight, so I’m gonna go flirt with some girls.”
“Uh, I need what now?” I ask. I have to force myself not to turn my head toward Miller.
They ignore me.
Damon kisses Maddox’s cheek. “Flirt with girls all you want, babe. You know they can’t give you what I can.”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for Marcus Talon.”
“Uh, can you stop saying my full name like that?” I ask. “It’s weird. Call me Talon.”
Maddox lets out a little “Squee,” but I think it’s by accident. He whispers something to Damon, and Damon nods.
“Go. Have fun.”
Maddox puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me through the crowd.
“Uh, I wasn’t really looking for a hookup,” I say.
“Single guys are always looking for a hookup.”
Before we disappear, I turn back and give Miller eye contact. He has a reserved smile, and as if we’re already having those voodoo-reading-each-other’s-mind thing couples have, I know he’s telling me it’s okay to humor Maddox. Or at least I hope he’s saying that.
After the PT conversation Miller and I had, it feels wrong flirting with someone else, because we’ve set our hard limits. I’ve never had that before—where I don’t see a point in flirting. Maybe it’s because in the past I’ve always kept my options open. Since Miller’s come back into my life, my options are definitely closed to everyone but him.
“Damon doesn’t care if you flirt with women?” I ask Maddox.
“Why would he? He knows I’m only ever coming home to him.”
Huh. I guess that’s what complete trust looks like. “How long you been together?”
“Twelve months? I think. Around there. I dunno, we’re not keeping track.”
Is that how long I can expect to get to that place with Miller? Then again, I have no clue where we’ll be in a year. If we were to get to that point, we wouldn’t be able to live together without people getting suspicious. What kind of millionaires have roommates?
“Want to play a game of pool instead?” I point to the pool tables at the back.
Maddox turns and cocks his head. “Sure.”
He continues to eye me as we head over and interrupt a game with two other guys. One thing I love about my celebrity status is getting my way when I want it.
It only costs me a selfie to get their table.
Again, I glance back at Miller, and I wonder if he has the telepathic thing too when I send him a “Look, I’m being a good boy” vibe.
When he smiles at me from across the room, I turn away again, only to be met with Maddox’s inquisitive stare.
Maddox pulls out a stick from the holder while I rack up the balls. “So, you and Miller are good friends?”
“The best. We went to college together.” It’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I begin to wonder if I’ve screwed up somehow, because Maddox’s eyes widen before he schools his reaction.
Then he throws me some forced nonchalance while nodding once and saying “Cool.”
I can’t explain my unease as we play.
Maddox scrutinizes me and not in the “I can’t believe I’m here with Marcus Talon” way like he did as soon as he saw me. Then there’s the way he looks at me. Like I can hear his thoughts: I know your secret.
The paranoia makes my ears burn and my chest tighten.
I don’t know how this stranger could possibly know for sure, but it’s a feeling I can’t shake. So much so Maddox kicks my ass at pool when I’m usually the kicker of asses.
“Another game?” he asks.
I smile, but it’s tight. “Actually, I might go grab a drink.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
MILLER
When Talon approaches, his skin pale, I have no idea what the fuck happened. He nods in the direction of the entrance of the bar, and I follow him out.
The cold night air hits us, and I shiver because I didn’t pick up my jacket.
I shove my hands in my pockets of my jeans. “What’s wrong?”
“Does Maddox … did you tell Maddox? About …” He glances around the street, but no one’s paying us attention. We’re right near a subway station, so it’s busy, but everyone’s going about their own business. “Us.”
“I told him about me, but I never mentioned you specifically. I said my straight best friend kissed me but didn’t give specifics.”
“That Maddox guy? Not dumb. He knows.”
“Oh.” I don’t know how I feel about that. “What’d he say?”
“Nothing.”
“Then how—”
Talon’s face is red, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s angry, embarrassed, or just cold from the frigid air.
“Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. It’s obvious in the way he stares at me. All smug and knowing and shit.”
I try not to smile. “Annoying, isn’t it?”
Talon cocks his head at me, and I realize now’s not the time to joke.
“And are you freaking out that he knows or that it could get out? I don’t know him very well, but I trust him. Jackson trusts him.”
Talon still seems unsure, so I take my phone out of my pocket and text Maddox.
He appears moments later with both our jackets.
I can’t get mine on fast enough. “Thank fuck. I’m freezing my nuts off.”
“What’s up?” Maddox asks. “Is this about you two fucking around, because you’re not exactly being subtle about it.”
Talon’s mouth drops open.
“He blurts things,” I explain. “It’s normal.”
“But I was right. He knows.” Talon’s still uneasy.
“We’re not telling anyone,” I say to Maddox. “We’re, uh, trying to figure this whole thing out.”
“Figuring it out is the fun part.” Maddox winks.
Talon and I don’t respond. If anything, Talon tenses more.
“Too soon?” When we don’t reply, Maddox nods. “Too soon. Got it. Uh, I’m gonna go back inside. Just know I haven’t said anything to anyone about Miller, not even Damon, so please don’t freak out about me knowing too much. You guys are rich and could totally afford a hitman to take me out.” His face falls. “Oh, God, I’m giving you ideas.”
Talon finally smiles and lets out a little laugh. “I do all my contract killing myself.”
I sigh. “Figures you two would get along.”
“Anyway,” Maddox says. “Offer to talk is there if you guys need it. Otherwise, I’m gonna pretend I know nothing. Knowing nothing is my specialty … wait … did I just call myself dumb?” Before we can answer, he shrugs. “Eh. Oh well. See you guys back in there.”
He turns on his heel and heads back into the bar.
Talon sinks against the rough brick of the building.
“I think we can trust him,” I say.
He shakes his head. “It’s not that. It’s …” He sighs. “Is this what it’s like? What it’s going to always be like?” Talon searches the street again as if paranoid people can hear or that we’ll be recognized. The only thing that could hear us is random patches of melting snow.
“What is it always going to be like?” I ask.
“When I realized Maddox knew, it was like the ground could crumble underneath me if I said the wrong thing, and I froze up.”
I can see it written all over his face. It’s the freak-out I expected him to have months ago when we started FaceTiming each other and then again when we began fooling around in person. Only, he’s not so much freaking out about us being together but the rest of the world and how they’re going to react if they find out. If it was just us and our families, it wouldn’t be a proble
m, but we’re not just anyone. We’re both public figures—Talon more so than me—but if either of us was outed, it has an impact. On us, on the league, on the fans, but most importantly, on Jackson.
“My life is splashed all over the tabloids enough as it is,” Talon says. “What if this all comes out, and then those women we’ve been with come forward? What if you’re thrust into the spotlight, Jackson’s shit is dredged up again … Everything flashed through my mind in a split second.”
I take a deep breath, because what I have to say probably isn’t what he wants to hear. “During college, every time I hooked up with someone, I was self-conscious about it getting out, about them telling everyone. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, and then when I made the NFL, I was terrified one of my hookups was going to come forward, but they didn’t.”
“Did the paranoia ever go away?”
“It dimmed, but I’m not gonna lie—I still worry about it from time to time.”
Talon looks so brokenhearted and defeated, but I don’t know how to fix it.
“It’s probably something we need to evaluate,” I say. “Because this is what being together is gonna be like. There’s no way around that.”
“Evaluate?”
“If it’s worth it.”
“Do you need to evaluate?”
I want to tell him the truth—to yell a big fat no, I don’t, because it’s always been Talon for me. I’d move heaven and earth to be with him. But his uncertainty is clear as day, and I don’t want to influence that.
“Maybe we both need it,” I lie.
“Man, this part isn’t on the brochure, is it?”
“Brochure?”
“When you hear about people coming out, you always picture awkward teens sitting in front of their parents. They come out, parents react—good or bad—and then it’s done. Fuckin’ nope. You’ve got friends, work, random people figuring it out in bars …” Talon grunts. “Whoever the assholes are who say being queer is a choice clearly don’t know shit. No one would choose to feel like this.”
My heart stutters, and I know that’s not a dig at me or what we have, but I can’t help being crushed just a little. “Like what?”