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Chapter 27
Landon
I fight the urge to glare at Rick when I walk past him. I know exactly why he’s chuckling, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I’ll get him back later for his lack of empathy over how I feel this morning.
“Andrews!” Coach yells from the other side of the room. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” I yell back, all the while struggling to walk without a hitch in my step as I make it to my locker.
“Did you pull a groin muscle?”
“No,” I tell him, lowering my voice as he draws closer.
I see Rick grinning at me over Coach’s shoulder. I look at Coach’s face, so I don’t end up doing the same.
How do I tell the man that another teammate managed to get three fingers in my ass last night, and it’s left me sore in the most delicious way?
“A glute?”
“What?”
“Did you pull a glute? What the hell is wrong with you, Andrews?”
“Just a little tight this morning,” I mutter, hearing Rick’s voice in my head. Tight every morning, Andrews.
“Alternate between ice and heat this evening,” Coach says as he turns away. “Can’t have my star player injured.”
“Yes, Coach,” I quickly agree, grateful that he didn’t attempt to dig deeper in why I’m walking with a limp.
Rick is busy pulling on his cleats when I try to meet his eyes. As if he can feel me watching him, he looks up, and not for the first time in the last three weeks since he first made me orgasm with a finger in my ass, we share a secret smile before he looks away.
I know he’s giving me exactly what I asked for by not drawing more attention to the two of us, but it leaves me feeling temporarily empty inside. The man has me in knots these days. He makes me beg and plead before taking me over the edge in the most delicious ways. I always want more—more time with him, more adventurous sex. Well, not sex. We haven’t taken things that far, and that’s on me.
I just haven’t been able to build up the courage to tell him that his fingers feel great, but I know his cock would feel better. My head has convinced me that asking for it would be taking it too far. That’s the line in the sand I’ve mentally drawn and can’t seem to get past.
I ache for it. I dream about it.
But I just can’t manage to ask for it.
I wouldn’t stop him, but true to what he told me from the start, he’s taking his cues from me. I have the boundaries, not him. If I don’t ask for it, I don’t get it.
Last night I whispered, “I want you inside of me,” but he took that as meaning his fingers which have managed to find their way into my ass nearly every night for weeks. I didn’t clarify that I meant his cock.
I’m such a fucking coward.
That last step has somehow become the equivalent of my acceptance to who I really am, and I just can’t go there.
Acceptance is the first stage, disclosure to others being the next, and I kind of like this little secret bubble the two of us are living in. There’s no judgment when we’re in bed together. I don’t have to make excuses or explain why I’m feeling a certain way about the guy I grew up with.
This bubble is the nicest thing I’ve ever had. It comes without judgment. Rick isn’t rude. He doesn’t try to coerce me into things. He doesn’t have a this-for-that attitude. He seems genuinely turned on when he touches me, as if pleasing me pleases him. I know I feel that way about him. My cock gets so stiff it hurts when he’s in my mouth, leaking from the tip, and begging for attention.
However, that’s all sexual need, and I know Rick wants more. He confessed his love for me years and years ago, and I know he believed that kind of love for me was real. It wasn’t because of the trauma we suffered that night. It was the adrenaline rush from thinking we were going to die, tied up in the middle of the living room. In his heart, he felt that way, and I see that same worried look on his face in our dorm room, a shadow of that emotion he tries so fucking hard to keep hidden.
He wants me to love him back. I saw the look on his face, all wistful and dreamy as he watched two guys smile at each other as they held hands and strolled across campus to the dining hall. He didn’t know I was watching, and at first, I didn’t feel like a creep, but the way he watched those guys made my chest hurt.
He deserves that, doesn’t he? He deserves a man that doesn’t keep him holed up in a room, a man that just gives him a simple wave or a secret smile while around others. A man that doesn’t greedily take everything from him at night while pretending to be less-than-true friends in public. He deserves every ounce of affection that he craves, whether that’s in private or out in the world for others to witness.
