CHAPTER 28
casey
I t’s hard prioritising competing interests when you have an addictive personality. A strong part of me clings to those addictions that have made me into the committed footballer I am today—the disciplined training, the focus and drive to succeed.
It’s just, nobody told me how good it would feel to have someone at my side. Someone like Harrison who gives me so much more than I ever thought possible, whose touch sends me absolutely wild, whose kisses weave their way right to my heart.
My mind is a very active space these days, thoughts of Harrison never far from the centre.
Kind of competing for space with my solid commitment to football if I’m entirely honest. Good thing he knows me well enough to gently nudge my attention in the direction it is meant to be.
To keep me focused on training and drills and preparing my body.
Even if I’d rather be somewhere alone with him so we can fuck again.
Besides, we do that quite a lot already so I know by now that I can do both quite successfully.
And maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be less singularly minded on just one addiction.
Maybe spreading those addictions around will be good for me.
At least, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself because it serves my purpose best.
Besides, it hasn’t affected my game at all even though we lose the battle for the hearts and minds of Sydney to the Sydney Sails, and then we lose again in Melbourne the following weekend against the Portland Panthers.
And then at main training day earlier this afternoon, I am crunched on the field between the friendly fire of Chad Lawson and Zeke Penrith. The problem with that is that those two friendly giants are our team’s ruckmen, so little Casey Calloway is the sole casualty in the ruck sandwich.
My left hand suffers in the fallout. It’s just a sprain but Doc Masters straps my fingers together and orders me to rest for the remainder of the day.
Mmm, no. Resting is not in my vocabulary, right there along with the word tata which Harrison cruelly banned me from saying.
But when Tim Masters spies me lurking in the weights room, he orders me home, so I have to go.
Unfortunately, this means I have to leave Harrison at the club for his physio appointments, so we go our separate ways today.
Only thing is, I am home way too early and all by myself, desperately horny and wishing Harrison was by my side.
I think about calling him, but I drop the phone on my sofa and walk away.
I know I should give him space from me. I know I’m needy and demanding of his time and he probably doesn’t want to spend every waking hour with me the way I do with him.
Still, I don’t know why I’m surprised when I hear a knock on my door right before dinner time. I open it to find the man of my dreams on my doorstep. Harrison wears that smile that renders me a little senseless and it’s probably due to that I miss the brown paper bag in his hand.
“I thought you might like some dinner,” he offers, holding the paper bag up between us.
My heart melts into a dozen pieces as I lean up against the door frame, eyeing this man who knows me so well it’s kind of scary.
“Well, I was about to defrost a meal kit,” I pretend to mull, like I’m weighing up my best option.
“I can leave,” he returns, something we both know is a lie. I grin as I reach for his Fever polo top, yanking him closer to me, a little rougher than I meant as he stumbles into my chest.
“Never,” I tell him, watching the way his eyes darken and drop to my lips.
“You want to let me in or are we giving the neighbours a free show?” he responds, voice gravelly.
“You’re worth way more than a cheap freebie,” I say, letting him step into the house before I close the door. He drops the paper bag and reaches for my face, cupping both cheeks before he presses the most mind bendingly sweet kiss on me.
I moan as I lean into the kiss, right before I feel the wall hit my back as Harrison cages me in. He breaks the kiss right before we reach the point where dinner will become a forgotten memory, but I don’t mind those glassy eyes he looks down at me with.
“Damn, Casey,” he murmurs, licking his swollen lips.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I sigh, words slightly too honest. But he smiles and drops his hold on me, gaze all over my face.
“Me too,” he says. “How’s the hand?”
“Sore,” I pout, lifting my strapped left hand to where he gives me a sympathetic hum as he strokes it gently. “It’s my left hand too, H so it’s really lucky you’re here.”
“Right, cos it’s really hard microwaving with your right hand,” he chuffs, looking at me with such fondness I swallow.
“I wasn’t talking about microwaving, Harrison,” I return.
“What were you talking about?” he asks, head cocked innocently to the side.
“You ever tried wanking with your wrong hand?” I pose right before he drops the pretence and barks out a laugh.
“I can wank your dick for you,” he says.
“See? This is why you’re literally the perfect guy,” I grin. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and then steps away from me to collect the paper bag. I follow him into the kitchen where he spreads out an array of ingredients including rice, carrots, onions, chillis and a can of four bean mix.
“What are we eating?” I ask, watching him move around my kitchen like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“It’s a Mexican rice dish,” he tells me. “You like spice?” he adds, holding up the thin red chilli.
“I love a bit of spice,” I assure him. He grins at me before turning back to the veggies. I love helping Harrison in the kitchen so I try to chime in with some assistance. I’m never sure if I’m actually helping or hindering but Harrison just smiles at me as I try my best and I know he doesn’t mind.
Harrison once again proves to be a master in the kitchen as we eat the Mexican rice propped up next to each other on the island bench, the taste exploding in my mouth. I pack away the kitchen afterwards and Harrison helps even though I tell him I’ve got it.
I lean against the kitchen cabinets when we’re done, watching as he stalks towards me, intent in that gaze. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, reaching down one cheeky hand to cup my dick over my sweats. It hardens in an instant as he rubs me softly.
“Now, want me to take care of this?” he asks, all false sweetness on his pretty face.
“Yes,” I whimper. His grin is delicious as he leans towards me, planting his mouth on mine.
There’s nothing sweet about this kiss as he plunges his tongue into my mouth, devouring me the way I love.
I groan as I knock my head to the side as he trails kisses down my neck, my hips pushing forward for friction.
“I wish I could be all manly and hike you up against the kitchen cabinets and fuck you right here,” he murmurs. “Unfortunately, you and I both know I’m not that strong and those things only work in the movies.”
“Well then, better come to my room,” I reply.
We race up to my room where we both strip off in some kind of land speed record and dive onto the bed.
Then Harrison proceeds to take me apart with all the things he promised.
His touch is everywhere, his mouth not far behind as he sinks it around my cock while his fingers plunge inside me.
He pulls my orgasm up out of nowhere and I am not prepared for it as he swallows around me.
And then before I’ve had a chance to recover, he flips me onto my stomach, belying his claim about lack of physical strength. I hear the tear of a foil packet and a second later he pushes himself into me.
He turns me into a mindless, desperate thing as he props my knee up higher, opening me up for him as he goes to town on me. I think I want to live like this, with Harrison moving inside me and those soft grunts and moans as he picks me to pieces.
He presses lower on me, body lined up with mine as he sucks a gentle mark on my neck, not enough to leave any evidence because we’re not that dumb.
He finds that spot in me, the one that has me shooting to the moon as my cock hardens against the bed and his heady grind, grind, grind has me out of my mind.
I think I love him. No, scratch that. I know I love him.
I think maybe I’ve been in love with Harrison Thornfield since the day he let me plant that corked hat on his curls and we clipped those koalas all over each other.
I also have just enough presence of mind to know now is not the time to blurt out my feelings, not with him pounding into me and my brain turned to mush.
I spill on the bed, my orgasm ripping out of me so fast and strong I don’t even have time to prepare. I tip Harrison over the edge right along with me as he makes that sound I am addicted to and he fills me up. I drift in his arms.
I think I might have fallen asleep for a moment or two, blissed out and thoroughly sated as Harrison’s warm body blankets me.
It’s only when he shifts and pulls out of me that I realise how much I want him back in there.
Once is never enough for me but I feel Harrison’s exhaustion as he curls up alongside me, warm and cosy and sleepy the way he always is after sex.
I should be tired too after those two explosive orgasms but I’m suddenly wide awake, my exhaustion dissipating in a whirlwind of thoughts, brain active and firing again now that Harrison is not occupying my body.
“H?” I say, nudging him gently with my knee.
“Mmm?” he murmurs, just a happy cat at my side. I love him. I honestly love him.
“Harrison,” I add, full naming him because I need his attention. He must realise because his eyes flick open, chestnut brown and heartachingly beautiful and just as full of warm emotions. “I think you should move in with me.”
I just say it, the words needing out or I’ll stew on them all night. And I mean it too. I want him here every day and every night. I want him in my bed and in my pool and in every waking moment of my life. I want him everywhere.
He takes a moment to respond, an array of emotions flickering through his eyes. “We’ve only been … dating a couple of months,” he says, stumbling over the word to define our relationship. I get it, I don’t know how to define us either.
“No, we’ve been having sex for a couple of months,” I correct. “Pretty sure we’ve been in a relationship since our first date back when you moved to Sydney.”
He chuffs a laugh at that, leaning in when I glide my fingers through his luscious curls. “That’s true,” he concedes.
“I don’t care about convention or how long we should be in a relationship before we move in. We’re good together, H. You get me. I don’t really know why you put up with me and I know you’re way too good for me and this is a completely one-sided relationship, but I still want this.”
Harrison pulls back to look at me, a bemused expression on his face. “Um, what? There is no way you think this is one sided.”
“Yeah, it is. I get way more out of you than you do me. I know what I’m like, H. I know I’m neurotic and obsessive and not actually all that good at much outside of football. And you’re like this really cool, posh, classy boy but you still get me. And not many people have ever got me like you do.”
His expression melts a little before he sighs out a breath of air and leans in closer.
“Firstly, I get just as much out of this relationship as you do, Casey. I’m serious here.
Even though you’re literally eye candy personified, and I about die every time I’m inside you, I like so much more about you than that.
I love your neuroticism, and I love your crazy and your dramatics and your passion.
It’s your personality that drew me in, even more than your looks and your body. ”
I don’t know why those words mean so much to me, or why I hardly know how to breathe after he says them.
I know I’m not the easiest. I know I’m obsessive and possessive and high maintenance.
But Harrison gets that about me, and he still likes me.
The thought strikes through me like a warm coil of iron.
“I like everything about you too, Harry,” I tell him.
“You’re like this calm to my crazy, peace to my obsessions.
You give my overactive mind a place of quiet and rest and you have no idea how good that makes me feel, H.
But that’s the thing about an addictive personality because, well, you should probably know I’m addicted to you.
Like in a head over heels, completely and totally in love with you kind of way. ”
I glance up at my words, words I hadn’t been quite prepared to tell him just yet.
They kind of just spilled out of my mouth like a word tsunami that was impossible to hold back.
Only thing is, he’s looking back at me with the same kind of emotion, and I choke up again as he cups my face, so gentle compared to how he was with me pinned underneath him.
“Well maybe it’s catching because I’m definitely addicted to you too, Casey,” he tells me, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. “I think I’ve been in love with you just as long.”
He leans forward and takes my mouth in a kiss, a slow, languorous kiss with just a gentle twining of tongues, a kiss that is not about anything other than sealing our words to each other.
I know there’s a question in there he has avoided answering but that doesn’t matter right now, not while he’s here with me, kissing me like he means it. Kissing me and loving me just like I’m kissing and loving him right back.