“I love fruit and whipped cream!” Milo exclaimed.
I grabbed my phone to check the time. It was close to when I planned to start making dinner, so I saw no harm in starting it early. It meant we would have less opportunities for that awkward silence to settle back over us.
I pushed myself off the couch and started toward the kitchen. I heard Milo’s footsteps on the hardwood behind me. When I reached the kitchen, he stopped at the counter and took a perch on one of the bar stools. It was strangely touching that he remembered that I wasn’t fond of sharing my kitchen space when I was cooking. Either that or he didn’t want to risk ruining dinner by attempting to help with his own poor cooking skills.
Conversation started slow as I began prepping dinner, but soon, we found a steady flow. We talked about our game against the Savannah Dolphins the following day. Milo had a lot to say about them, as they were division rivals with the Scorpions. I’d only played them once in my entire ALF career, and they’d not provided a challenge to the Foxes. But the Foxes and the Scorpions were two very different teams.
After we exhausted the conversation about that week’s game, we started talking about bye week. The only real plan I had for bye week was finally purchasing a car. Or maybe just finding one for lease. Either way, I was ready to be done with ride sharesand depending on Milo for rides to and from the stadium. When I’d first gotten to Tucson, I’d thought that maybe, I’d spend bye week finding a longer-term place to stay. Something with a six-month lease until I knew for certain that I would be signing a long-term contract with the team.
I didn’t want that now.
I didn’t like the idea of no longer being neighbors with Milo Tobitt or his weird Aunt Ethel. I’d really grown to love this building and having a friend close. It made the city feel less lonely.
Milo had less plans than I did, but he was quick to remedy that. He started listing local places that he loved and tourist traps, places he thought I should visit, and by the time dinner was ready, he’d planned an entire tour of Tucson for us. Given the manic way he’d named things for us to do, I decided I was not going to hold my breath for it to come to fruition. It was probably one of those things that you talked about and kept strictly in the hypothetical.
“Holy fuck, this is good,” Milo moaned as he took his first bite of his pasta.
The way he moaned reminded me of that night in his bed. My cock twitched in my jeans, and I became fixated on watching the facial expressions he made as he ate. I was mesmerized by the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple when he took drinks of the water we had with dinner, chosen specifically because I never drank the night before a game, and we both needed to be hydrated for tomorrow.
He cleared his plate in record time. It took me longer due to the constant distractions of the noises he made while he ate and those damned facial expressions. Once we were both finished eating, I rinsed the plates in the sink and began cutting fruit.
We took our dessert plates back to the couch, and I realized the flaw with this dessert. If I’d found him eating pasta to bedistraction, then watching him wrap his full red lips around a cream topped strawberry was positively pornographic. When he caught me watching, he began playing it up. He licked around the next strawberry, and I imagined him doing the same to the head of my dick. He sucked it into his mouth, and my cock pulsed in my jeans. Each fruit on his plate became more pornographic until I was hard from watching him.
Then, he reached over and fed me a strawberry. The heat of his body so close to mine sent me over the edge. Our lips met. He tasted of whipped cream and fruit, and I moaned into his mouth. The fruit and whipped cream were soon abandoned as we took each other apart on my couch.
We won our game against the Savannah Dolphins, and then we had the week off.
I spent the first day of bye week buying a car. It was the latest model of the same car I had in Fayetteville, something sensible and good for city driving. I had never cared for the flash of sports cars that so many league members seemed to be obsessed with. They always seemed like a waste of money, more style than substance. Besides, it wasn’t like I drove anywhere other than practice, games, and occasionally, the grocery store.
Milo and I spent the second day together. He’d shown up at my door at eight in the morning, and he dragged me around to restaurants, museums, and a few local spots he’d discovered in his time in Tucson. We ate all three meals at local restaurants that he’d discovered, each unique to the Tucson area. When we found ourselves lagging in the middle of the afternoon, he took me to his favorite coffee shop.
After dinner, we made our way back to our condos and I kissed him good night at his door.
I didn’t know if it was a date, but it felt like one.
It also felt like something that would need to be talked about, another conversation I didn’t know how to start. I thought about it as I laid in my bed replaying the events of the day. I remembered the way our hands brushed in the museum. I thought about the way our conversations never ran dry, a feat that rarely happened with me. Troy and Raina were two of the only people who could bring out that side of me, but Milo was learning how to do it without any effort.
He was easy to talk to.
Every time I closed my eyes, more images from that day filled my mind.
I didn’t remember making the decision to climb out of my bed, but the next thing I knew, I was knocking on his door. He opened, and I was shocked at how cozy he looked. He was wearing plaid pajama pants, and his toned chest was on full display. His platinum blond hair was mussed, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. His brows were furrowed in confusion as he studied me. I understood why.
It was late, and I was at his doorstep.
He blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing, before he shook his head in a way that reminded me of the old golden retriever my family had when I was a kid. “What are—Am I dreaming?”
I couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping my lips. “Dream about me often?”
“Not dreaming,” he grumbled. “Dream you is a lot nicer.”
I hummed and took a step closer to him. “So, you do dream about me often.” My eyes drifted down to his full red lips. His tongue darted between them, leaving them shiny and alluring, Whatever force had overtaken me and dragged me out of bedand to his doorstep took over again. I lifted my hand and thumbed at his lips. They were so soft under the pad of my thumb.
His lips wrapped around the tip of my thumb, and his eyes met mine. As our eyes locked, he pulled my thumb in deeper. His tongue swirled around my finger the same way it did around my cock. I let out a breathy, lust filled sound.
“What happens in these dreams?” I asked him. I could hear the lust in my voice. I’d all but forgotten that we were still standing in his doorway. Anyone could walk out of their condo and see us. Luckily, it was the middle of the night, and I was sure everyone on our floor was asleep.
Even still, I was glad when his hand wrapped around my wrist and he tugged me inside. The door clicked shut behind us.
