Chapter 24
Beau
We’re all standing in the kitchen, Milo’s parents’ jaws dropping open like they’re ready to start yapping again, but I throw a hand up to stop them.
“Seriously, y’all can’t continue to flap your lips like you know how this works. You need to stop. You know nothing.” I sound so serious and so forceful. Milo reaches out and squeezes my arm. I look back at him, and he smiles.
“Milo is currently one of the best goalies in the division, in the whole league probably. The PHL really only cares about players playing well. They would be stupid to count him out of the league entirely just because he likes dick.” I shake my head, closing my eyes.
“The fact that you don’t believe your son’s talent can carry him says way more about you than it does about him.
” I level them with a glare before continuing.
“I would never jeopardize Milo’s career or my own career if we didn’t make it.
That’s incredibly selfish and goes against everything I believe in as a person.
If you had gotten to know me at all before walking in here and just shitting all over us, maybe you would know that. ”
Milo’s mom is loudly sobbing, big, angry tears flowing so hard she’ll be dehydrated in no time. I roll my eyes, and his father scoffs. I can tell he’s gearing up to clap back, but I just don’t have the energy for their bullshit.
“Look, your son is incredible. He’s an amazing goalie, yes, but he’s an even better person.
If y’all had even a modicum of respect for him, you would trust that he knows his own journey, that he knows the path that he needs to follow here.
You should trust that he knows himself.” I sigh because, based on the looks on their faces, they’re not quite getting it.
I finally look at Milo and shrug. “You’ll do whatever it is that you need to do, and I promise I’ll be here for you.
I promise I’ll support you. I promise I’ll… ”
“We’ve heard quite enough.” Mr. Hall, surprise, surprise, is glaring at me.
“You clearly don’t value our input,” his mom chimes in, incredibly unhelpfully. The tears are still waterfalling down her face like she thinks they’ll help her cause.
“It’s not that I—” Milo starts, but his mom shoves past him, pushing him into the island like a little bowling ball of fury. He cries out, and I rush to his side, unsure of how to help, just knowing that he needs it.
His ribs are all red and angry, and I feel all red and angry.
His parents are such shitheads. They don’t care about their son at all.
They only care about hearing themselves yammer on and on about things they don’t understand.
Yet when their son cries out to them, just wanting to be heard, they can’t return the damn favor.
“Are you okay, baby?” I whisper to him, wiping away the tears gathering in his eyes. He nods carefully, his hand gripping at his side. There’s a huge red splotch where he hit the island. It’s for sure going to bruise.
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.” His voice is low, and he flinches a little when I run my fingers lightly over the bruising skin.
His dad scoffs and shoves past us. We just stand together, huddled in the kitchen, listening to his parents shuffle around in their room. I’m selfishly hoping they’re packing their bags to leave, but I don’t know how that’ll make Milo feel.
“Do you think they’re leaving?” he asks, and I search his eyes for any sign of how he genuinely feels about that. His eyes are hooded, and he refuses to meet my gaze. I take him into my arms and just crush him to me.
“Yeah, baby, I think they are.” I pull back and cradle his face in my hands, forcing him to look up at me.
“How do you feel about that?” I search his face for any sign of discomfort, for any sadness.
My fingers feather over the red blotch on his ribs, and he flinches.
“Fuck, baby, are you going to be able to play tomorrow?” He rolls his eyes hard, forcing a laugh out of me, and I can hear one of his parents scoff again.
“Seriously, baby, this looks pretty angry. We should talk to PT about this.”
I go to move to the freezer, but his hand grips my arm, holding me in place.
“I’m just getting you an ice pack for that bump, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” He squeezes me again, but nods and lets me go.
Ice pack in hand, I maneuver him to the living room and sit him down.
We just sit huddled together, me pressing the ice pack against his ribs and him full-on hissing at me.
My chuckle is low and smooth. I’m trying desperately to keep him distracted from his parents' huffing and puffing, heard loudly from the guest room.
Finally, after what is much too long for two people to need to pack up after only one night, his parents roll themselves out into the living room.
Mrs. Hall bursts into tears again, and Mr. Hall makes a big show of comforting her, patting her back and really just being an overall douche.
I want to sneer at the two of them but don’t want to stoop to their level.
“You really are just going to let us walk out of here like this?” his mom asks between sobs before pulling out a tissue and obnoxiously blowing her nose. I can’t stop the eye roll that takes place at that, though I definitely try.
“Mom, what do you want from me?” Milo asks, throwing his head back in exasperation. “You’re choosing to leave like this. I didn’t ask you to leave. This is one hundred percent your decision.” He throws his hands up to match his energy. “So seriously, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to listen to me,” she all but screeches back. He stands up with a huff and begins to usher them out the door.
“Well, when you’re ready to have an adult conversation with me about the possibility of me coming out, I’ll be ready to talk with you. Until then, I think maybe we should take a break from each other and cool off.”
His parents blanch at that.
“You can’t take a break from being our child,” his dad hisses.
“I can, and I will. Either y’all can respect that and give me some space, or I can block you.” He walks around them and opens the front door. “Please leave.”
I’ve never felt so proud.
His parents literally stomp out of the house like two petulant children, and I have to remind myself of his bruise before I pounce on him. He slams the door shut and walks back over to me. I may be so proud of him I’m horny, but he has tears in his eyes, so I take a deep breath.
He plops back down on the couch, and I grab his hand and give it a squeeze.
“That must have been really hard,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice low and soothing. “I’m really proud of you.”
His head is flung back against the back of the couch, but he turns and squints at me, a smile spreading across his face.
“That sucked, like, a lot,” he says slowly, thinking about his words before he says them, “but all I really feel is relief. Like maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can actually come out?” His cheeks blush as if he’s imagining the prospect, and I hope it’s a flush of excitement.
Part of me wishes I could come out first, take that leap for him, but I think he needs this. I think he needs the opportunity to be brave. And who am I to take that away from him?
Before I can voice my thoughts, Milo is rolling over on the couch and is suddenly straddling my lap.
“It was so hot watching you stand up to them, sweetheart.” He nuzzles into my neck, and I groan. I can feel him plumping up, and before I know it, he’s rock hard and grinding his erection against mine. I reach up and bring his lips down to meet mine in a searing kiss.
What starts as wild and fervent turns sweet and tender as we just rock into each other. He’s cradling my head, and I’m holding him close. We sit there like that for quite some time, just kissing, just being close, just holding each other.
I want to tell him how I feel, but I still don’t have the words for it. I still can’t find it within myself to say them, so for now, I’ll show him exactly how I feel.
I stand up from the couch, bringing Milo’s legs to wrap around my hips and his hands around my neck. I start to move to the bedroom, but he stops me.
“No, fuck me in the kitchen. On the island.” His words are breathy and desperate. I change course and do exactly as he asks, moving toward the kitchen as quickly as I can manage with this big, beefy bottom in my arms.
I sit him on the island, and we continue to kiss from this new angle.
But as our lips move together, I grow more and more hungry for his body.
My fingers tangle in his curls as I hold his face to mine.
Finally, finally, I move down the column of his neck with the reverence of a prayer, licking and sucking at each juncture, desperate to elicit the most provocative sounds from him.
My hands are suddenly very busy tugging at his pants, very grateful we’re already in such a state of undress in the early hours of the day.
He maneuvers out of his pants and sits on the island in all his naked glory. I pull out my cock slowly, already achingly hard and dripping precome. I hold out a hand to him.
“Spit.”
And he obeys so beautifully.
I wrap my hand around our throbbing cocks, giving them a gentle squeeze and moaning at the delicious pressure.
“You like that, pretty boy?” I ask with a sugary sweetness, leaning in close and letting our bodies press together.
“You like rubbing that gorgeous cock against mine, like feeling how much I want you? Such a pretty slut for me,” I coo at him, one hand wrapped around our dicks, the other on his face, forcing his eyes on mine.
For a moment, we stand there together, dicks in hand, eyes locked on each other.
I’m entirely enraptured by him.
Entirely caught up in this beautiful man.
This man that I long more than anything to call mine.
His pupils are blown with lust, and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His cheeks are flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, those gorgeous freckles standing at attention. I want to lick a stripe up his chest, really taste him.
We get lost there for a while, just enjoying each other’s space and air, foreheads pressed together. My hand moves leisurely over our shared erections, in no real hurry to come, just whispering sweet nothings to my man.
Mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
All mine.
I pull his mouth down to mine and lose myself in his kiss, his lips so soft against my own.
Those three words are on the tip of my tongue. I literally have to eat my words and swallow them to keep from saying them aloud, to keep from scaring him off.
This is so real, so fast.
When we finally come, it’s together and on an exhale.
This is real.