CHAPTER 24
harrison
T he Fever fly out to Perth on Thursday.
This is all well and good but not one person thought to inform me that flying from Sydney on the east coast of Australia to Perth on the west coast takes five freaking hours.
That’s basically an international flight but I’m still in mainland Australia and still cramped in a basic economy seat.
Casey is loving life up in business class with the head coaches and some select players which the club paid upgrades for. Which is great for him. Perth is two hours behind Sydney, so I feel like I’ve stepped into another country when we finally disembark in the west, tired and slightly jetlagged.
Perth is one of the most isolated cities in the world and it kind of has that frontier feel as I soak in the warm, late afternoon skies.
Apparently, it takes four days to drive to the closest city of Adelaide, seven if you do it right, and I am finding it impossible to wrap my head around the vastness of this continent.
It also explains why we flew out two days before the Fever’s Saturday twilight game against Perth Storm. After a light mobility and yoga session at the hotel Coach gives the team and support staff the rest of Thursday off. Casey’s eyes immediately zone in on me.
He ignores Sonny and Izak as he beelines my way. I get the impression my boy maybe wants me to take him out, enjoy a little time on our own in a different city.
“Want to get out of here?” he asks, voice low in my ear.
“Just us?” I ask, double checking in case he meant to bring his friends.
“Just us, Harrison,” he replies, eyes hinting at that possessive nature I’ve come to like. Plus he used my full name so I know he means business.
I don’t wait for him to change his mind or for anyone else to claim his attention. We head straight to the circular driveway and into a waiting taxi. Casey’s been to Perth before so he names a popular restaurant strip and the taxi zips away.
Casey’s relaxed here but it’s in a different way to how he is back home. And it’s kind of amusing because people recognise him way more when we’re on road trips to the AFL states than they do back in Sydney.
He doesn’t seem to mind it though, the positive attention from fans, but I do wonder what our life would be like if we lived anywhere else.
Whether we’d ever have the space to breathe and figure out what this is between us without the ever-present worry of interested eyes on us.
There is a level of anonymity for the Fever players in Sydney, and I think even my Casey, lover of the limelight that he is, enjoys that.
We find a restaurant we like the look of—a mix of south Asian street foods that has a cool vibe.
We sit opposite each other and I’m only vaguely aware of the stares our table attracts, all my attention for the beautiful man across from me.
His smiles are sweet and vibrant, and he laughs freely. I think I want to keep him forever.
But those smiles soon start to take a different turn, enough to make me call for the cheque and find a taxi back to the hotel.
We don’t see any of the Fever travelling party as we cross the lobby, calling up the elevator.
Casey stands at my side, an inch of space separating us as I press the button for my floor.
I usually have my own room when we travel, especially for an extended road trip like this, but as Casey is one of the younger players he shares with Izak. Casey doesn’t say anything, just steps out behind me and follows me to my room.
And I want him there, I want him so bad, and it takes hardly a moment until he’s exactly where I want him, underneath me with my mouth on his.
We make quick work of shedding our clothes and then he takes the lead, pushing me onto my back until his head is buried between my thighs, milking my cock until I am nothing but insatiable need and bare bones.
I don’t recall sex ever being this good before, but I think it might have more to do with the gorgeous boy and those intoxicating blue-green eyes looking up at me than anything else.
Casey crawls up my body afterwards, knees on either side of my head and hand resting on the headboard as I return the favour, gentleman that I am.
Not that there’s anything gentlemanly about the way he pushes himself down my throat, or the way my fingers take a naughty wander between his ass cheeks.
We collapse in a heap of tangled limbs and warm, sweaty skin afterward, completely spent. Or at least I am. I think I know better than to assume with Casey.
Casey finds the remote control and turns on the live football game currently playing on TV and then proceeds to commentate the entire play for me. It’s slightly harder to take him seriously as he lies there naked, legs entwined with mine and head on my chest as I thread my fingers through his hair.
And then we turn off the television and rinse and repeat because I find that once is never enough when I’m with Casey.
He seems to have no trouble achieving multiple orgasms a night.
Sure, he’s two years younger than me but I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of stamina.
I have a feeling he’s going to be hard to keep up with.
Unfortunately, we must fall asleep at some point because when I wake again the sun is peeking through the curtains and Casey is still in my bed.
“Case,” I say, nudging his shoulder gently.
“Huh, what?” he replies, snuggling in even tighter.
“We fell asleep.”
He sits up, head swivelling side to side as he catches his bearings.
“Shit. Izak,” he says, holding my attention for a brief moment.
He jumps out of bed, pulling on the clothes and shoes we left scattered around the room.
He rushes for the door, stops and turns back to press a kiss to my lips before he leaves me in a whirlwind of smiles and mild panic.
I’m already awake so I shower and dress and then make my way down to the first floor for breakfast. Casey is already there, sharing a booth with Sonny and Izak.
There’s a space next to him, but I hesitate, unsure whether I should sit with the medics or the boy who pulls me to him like a magnet.
Casey glances up, soft smile on his face as he knocks his head to the space beside him and my mind is made up.
I slide in beside him, sharing a quick smile as I say good morning to the other boys.
“So, anyone else not make it home to their allotted bed last night?” Izak is saying in a way that sounds like a continuation of an existing discussion.
I freeze, not even daring to look at Casey who has no trouble laughing off Izak’s suggestions.
“Not everything is a scandal, Devereux,” Casey chuffs.
“So where were you then?” Izak presses, eyes boring into his friend. I don’t miss the way Sonny’s gaze flickers between me and Casey, thoughtful expression on his face. Yeah, Ingram’s definitely onto us.
“I just fell asleep watching the footy with Harrison,” Casey shrugs.
“Oh,” Izak says, disappointed that he hasn’t uncovered a potential scandal. If only he knew . “Why didn’t you just say then?”
“Because it was much more fun watching you come up with potential scandals in your salacious little mind,” Casey laughs.
“Yes, no need for that when the truth is so much more interesting,” Sonny deadpans. Yep. He knows.
“That is not interesting,” Izak huffs. “I thought he’d at least finally gotten some west coast action.”
“Maybe he did,” Sonny shrugs.
“I’m gonna … get some breakfast,” I say, trying not to fall over my feet as I bolt from the booth.
I almost run for the buffet, hardly even noticing what I pile onto my plate.
Casey catches my eye in the distance, sending me a wink with that soft smile that lets me know we’re fine. And he is. Nothing phases Casey.
The thing is though, I don’t think he has a clue what he’s getting himself into. How a scandal is not even close to what he’d be facing if the truth about us ever got out.
Not for the first time I wonder what the hell we are doing.
***
Casey has his worst game in his short playing history against Perth Storm. They place a heavy tagger on him and double team him for the entire game. He is never able to break free. He manages only fifteen possessions and no goals.
The fact Casey is playing with two opponents on him should mean there is a free Fever player somewhere out there on the field, but the team never seem to find him.
The Fever lose and it becomes abundantly clear how important Casey Calloway is to this team’s success.
He is quiet in the rooms afterwards, eyes downcast and a heaviness to his shoulders.
His teammates do their best to lift him up—everyone has quiet games after all—but I can see my boy is in pain.
And not of the usual musculoskeletal variety either.
Coach sends him to the ice bath before he comes to me for treatment, but he follows Casey into the treatment room until we are away from listening ears. Other than mine but I don’t seem to count.
“Head up, kid,” Mick says kindly, hand heavy on Casey’s shoulder. “It takes a lot of practice to shake a tag like that and the way you’re playing means you’ll be attracting that sort of attention. We’ll work on it this week.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Casey nods as he climbs onto the treatment table, vulnerable in a way he never usually shows outside of when it’s just us.
I start working on him, not missing his wince when I touch him in that troublesome spot.
“Pain level?” I ask, trying to keep this to our normal post-game rub down.
“Three,” he huffs, arm draped across his eyes the way he does when he’s trying to shut people out.
“That’s good, Case,” I encourage, finding that problem muscle and digging in while he lets out a long breath.
“Hardly touched the ball anyway so what does it matter?” Yes, I could call him out for being petulant, but I know that’s not what he needs from me right now.