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He isn’t in the locker room when I arrive, but it doesn’t take long before he walks in with Silas Fawkes at his side. I hope he ended up with him last night rather than seeking out Mazie just to prove that he’s as straight as he ever was.
I don’t get those answers just by looking at him as I linger in the locker room. I came this morning already dressed to work out, but I go ahead and change my clothes anyway, needing the excuse to be in there. No one has looked at me sideways, even after declaring my gayness to the entire locker room my first day here, but I always do my best to never raise suspicions. There’s a fine line between being okay with a gay guy around and thinking that guy is checking them out while they strip down and shower.
He doesn’t look around the room as he pulls a change of clothes from his locker, and I can’t help but internalize his actions. As much as we fought and ignored each other over the years, he always seemed to scan the room, looking for me. I figured it was so he knew which direction to go to avoid me altogether, but he doesn’t seem interested in doing that now.
I drop my ass to the bench, bending over to tie my sneakers when raucous laughter fills the locker room. Glancing over my shoulder to figure out which idiot athlete is doing whatever it takes to get that kind of response from the group, my eyes land on Landon.
“Oh fuck,” I hiss.
The man is bending over to pull down his shorts and fuck my life.
I want to die. If this moment doesn’t kill me, then Landon is sure to do it the very first chance he gets.
“Daddy?” someone near him asks.
Landon turns around, still unaware of what’s going on.
“What?” he snaps.
Several guys point to his boxers, making him look down at the front of them. He looks back up in confusion before walking toward the huge mirror on the far wall.
Like a form of punishment, I, along with every other guy in the locker room, watches his ass as he makes the trek across the room.
His cheeks heat, turning the apples red the second he turns and looks over his shoulder.
Right there, in the mirror Yes, Daddy! stares back at him.
When his shoulders fall, another round of laughter and taunting ensues.
I’m grateful all the attention is on him because my body is responding in a way I’ve managed to control in the room every single time I’ve stepped foot in here. The man is sexy as hell. The fact that he picked up the boxers I was wearing last night in his rush to escape just makes him hotter.
The heat in his face begins to seep down his neck and onto his chest.
I hate Rex in this moment. He got those for me for Christmas. This isn’t the first time they’ve been folded, making me mistake them for a regular pair of black boxer briefs. I realized I brought them home with me this summer, and since I wasn’t leaving them for Sophia or my dad to find, I packed them again when I left New Mexico. They must’ve ended up on the top of the pile when I unpacked.
“Please clarify,” Jericho says. “Is someone calling you daddy or do you call someone else daddy?”
Landon’s jaw flexes as he walks silently back to his locker. Once again, he doesn’t look in my direction even though I know he has to be strangling me in his mind.
“It’s fucking laundry day, assholes,” he finally mutters. He turns, looking around the room before shoving them off his thighs. “Better?”
You could hear crickets chirp for a few long moments.
He’s got a fucking semi. Shamefully, I know what the man’s cock looks like flaccid, and that isn’t it.
Is he turned on that he’s wearing my clothes? Is he possibly thinking of hearing me or even himself say those words?
I don’t have a daddy kink. It’s what made the damn boxers so ridiculous in the first place, but maybe I need to revisit the idea.
A roar of applause so loud it seems choreographed goes through the locker room. The guys wave their arms around and clap, hooting and hollering.
Landon chuckles before turning around and sliding on a pair of athletic shorts sans underwear.
“I’m straight as a board, but I’d call you daddy,” one guy says, humor in his voice.
“Goddamn, that thing fits in your cup?” another guy questions.
His skin is still tinted with embarrassment, and he still hasn’t looked in my direction.
“It’s just a dick, assholes,” Landon mutters.
“A fucking huge one.”
“No wonder the girls flock in his direction.”
I turn away from the group, my own cheeks warming. I had that monster in my mouth last night, and I loved every fucking minute of it. Fuck, Rick, do not think about last night while in this room.
