“So good. So fucking good.” Not as good being filled with his cum will be.
“You gonna take all of me?”
I nod.
“Can’t hear you.”
“Yes,” I hiss. “All of you.”
“Might wanna brace yourself.”
Miller moves slowly at first. A roll of his hips, a tiny thrust. Every move he makes, I do the same to the toy, and I swear I’m two seconds away from passing out. Pleasure rolls through me, from my head to my toes and then back again.
I never want it to end, but I fear it may kill me if it doesn’t.
When he goes harder, my hand slips, and I almost headbutt the wall. I have to rest my forearm against the tile instead.
Miller pounds my ass until my vision blurs and the water runs cold, but the heat between us is enough to keep me warm.
The magnificent drag of Miller’s cock over my prostate over and over again has my orgasm hitting out of nowhere. My whole body trembles, and my moans vibrate off the walls, but Miller continues his punishing pace.
While I spill into the Fleshlight, every time Miller moves inside me, it drags out my orgasm. My legs go so weak the only thing holding me up right now is Miller.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Miller grunts.
I turn my head to look at him. “Yours.”
Miller’s arms wrap around me as if holding on for dear life as he comes. My cock becomes oversensitive, and I have to pull out while Miller slows and catches his breath. “Always?”
“Forever.”
Chapter Thirty
MILLER
Damon’s plan works to a tee although the timeline is moved up. Team management is informed, but the public article goes to print before we get a chance to tell our teammates. It starts with rumors and is confirmed by Lennon’s article. And that’s how our lives have imploded.
Everything we feared would happen has.
We’re photographed constantly.
We can’t step outside our houses or go anywhere without someone following.
The articles spreading hate about gay being contagious and pulling Jackson into it are fewer than expected, but they’re a lot harsher than anticipated. The fearmongering is out of control.
Worse yet is all those people we were scared about coming forward have—guys I hooked up with in college and girls Talon and I shared. Although it’s interesting to hear we were hooking up with each other even back then. It was news to us, but apparently, these women remember it differently.
We know to let it go, but it’s hard when there are lies out there mixed with the positive things about us. And there is positivity among the negative, which we’re both thankful for.
But social media is the evilest thing to ever evil. The positive sometimes outweighs the rest but not always. Yet, I can’t seem to stop checking it. Masochism is a shitty trait to possess.
Football is a man’s sport #nohomo
If Marcus Talon and Shane Miller get married, their celeb name would be Sharcus.
Who cares who bones who? #loveislove #teamSharcus
#ConGAYgious. First Matt Jackson. Now two more. Soon the whole NFL will be gay.
I thought San Francisco was the gay city #herecomesChicago
The reason football players wear helmets is to stop them from kissing.
TALON AND MILLER ARE SO FREAKING CUTE! #teamSharcus
I wonder who plays wide receiver in the bedroom.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
“You on Twitter again? I told you to stay away from that bullshit,” Talon calls out from his kitchen. I must be making my grumbly noises aloud.
“Would you believe me if I lied and said I wasn’t?”
“Well, no, because you just told me you’re lying.”
“Oh. Right.” I stare at my phone again.
Talon appears and throws himself down on the couch next to me. “Anything new?”
“Same old, same old. Although, Henderson is getting more passive-aggressive every day.” I show him Henderson’s latest tweet that’s a picture of guys in military getup.
These are real men.
Talon points to the photo. “Bet you that one on the end is a total bottom.”
I snort.
The hashtag #teamSharcus trends for a week after we come out. Worst ’shipped name ever, but we’ll take it. We’ll accept any of the positivity that has the power to drown out the negative noise.
“You ready to head out?” Talon asks, and if I’m honest, the answer is no.
Facing our team for the first time? Excuse me for not jumping for joy at being reunited with the guys who gave Jackson hell when he first joined the Warriors.
As if sensing my dread, Talon reaches for me. “It’ll be fine.”
I scoff. “Uh-huh, sure.”
The drive to Jackson and Noah’s place is silent because we’re both mentally psyching ourselves up to do this.
A year ago, we were on Jackson’s doorstep in Chicago trying to convince him to come out with us to meet the rest of the team. This time, we’re here for a different reason, but the same queasy, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this feeling is there. Last year was for him. Now, it’s for us.