9. Grady
9
GRADY
We win two of the three games against the Phillies, but the last one is hard on the guys. Everyone is quiet on the plane back to Cadence, and I can’t say I blame them. It’s been a long week away, and I’m as ready to be home as the rest of them.
“You’re awfully quiet, big man.” Steal nudges my arm off the armrest between us, and I quickly press my elbow into the top of his hand. He yelps, pulling his arm away with mock indignation.
“Sorry, was your hand there?” I try to sound as innocent as possible, and Steal gives me a narrow-eyed look. If he weren’t so obviously close to smiling, I would be afraid I’d hurt him.
He’s quiet for a second but can’t seem to stay silent much longer than that. “You gonna make another move?”
The not-so-subtle reminder of Elliot makes my head fall back. I wish these seats were tall enough to thump my skull against the cushion in frustration.
“That’s not good,” Steal correctly assumes, adjusting in his seat so he’s facing me. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Are we really going to do this again?”
I roll my eyes but murmur a pathetic “No.”
“Great, so,” he pokes me in the side, and I straighten out my neck. “What happened?”
“Nothing, and don’t poke me,” I quickly add, trying to dodge his hand. It’s impossible in these tiny seats, and he ends up stabbing me in the pec. “It’s genuinely nothing this time. We went to dinner the first night in Philly, and it was nice, but then…”
Then . Then Elliot flirted with Adam fucking Shelby in the weight room, and I lost all sight of being Elliot’s friend. I wanted to storm over there and shove my tongue down his throat. I know that I’m attracted to Elliot, I’m not that out of touch with myself, but I didn’t realize I was mark-my-territory attracted to him.
I’m not even sure when it happened. It’s like a switch flipped in my brain and now I have this uncontrollable crush on a man that still looks like he wants to run away every time I talk to him.
“Then?”
“Then I forgot that I’m supposed to look at Elliot like a friend .”
Steal’s eyes widen before he flattens his lips in an understanding gesture, nodding a few times as he thinks that over. “How bad did you forget?”
“If you’re asking whether I went all caveman on him?—”
“It’s a valid question after that shit with Mary.”
“I didn’t,” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my eyes. Sometimes, I forget how much of my life I’ve lived in front of my friends. Steal might not be aware that I grew up in a town run by a violent mafia or that my brother is trapped in that life, but he does know that I fractured my hand when my ex broke my heart. No one knows that the leader of the MacAlister’s killed my dirtbag father in front of me, or that my friend Callum is part of that crime family, but they know I was completely calm when Sorensen snapped his tibia in half mid-game two seasons ago. I didn’t tell any of them that my mother died of cancer three years ago, but they were all there when I got drunk and fell off Miller’s roof on what they thought was a random Tuesday in December.
They don’t know every moment of my life, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know me . I need to start listening to their advice.
“So, you got caveman jealous in your own head, and now you think things are ruined with Elliot?”
“Basically.”
“You suck.”
I glare at Steal, daring him to hit me like he does with Miller. Somehow he has enough self-preservation skills to not even try it.
“Just keep talking to him like a friend, and it’ll all even out again. He doesn’t need to know you momentarily had a crush on him.”
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to react to the word momentarily . “Yeah, I guess.”
“Great,” Steal smiles brightly, shuffling in his seat. “Now leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”
“ You started this conversation.”
“Shhh, I’m sleeping,” he stage whispers, rolling in his seat so his back is toward me.
This is why I don’t give my friends credit when they say intelligent things. I know that they’re just a bunch of overgrown children talking in circles and occasionally saying something that isn’t total trash.
My eyes dart to Mills who is already sleeping, his head jammed between the seats and his soft snores floating through the air. Hoax is awake, but he’s watching a video on his phone with his headphones in. That leaves me without friends back here, but I still don’t trust myself to talk to Elliot without saying something possessive or out of pocket, so I’m stuck with nothing to do.
Thinking of Elliot reminds me of the books he put on my phone, and I pull up the first one in the app. I don’t know anything about it, but it only takes a moment for me to realize it’s a hockey romance. At the beginning of chapter two, I learn it’s a romance between two players, and by the end of chapter two, I’m sweating through my shirt.
An idea I’ve been mulling over for the better part of the last week finally wins out, and I open my messages to start a new text thread.
How do you read books like this in public?
I got Elliot’s number from one of the million different group chats Miller constantly creates for us, but this is the first time I’ve ever sent him a message outside the group. I’m surprised to see the three little dots pop up almost immediately. When the text comes through, I half expect it to be, “Who is this?”
ELLIOT
Which one are you reading?
I send him a screenshot of the cover along with the message:
They’re having sex in chapter two.
ELLIOT
Yeah, sometimes they do that.
I was expecting one of those historical books with all the pining and the chastity belts.
ELLIOT
Then you’re definitely reading the wrong book. I’m pretty sure I put one of those on there, though.
I search my little library of books again, finding one with a woman facing away in front of a historic looking house.
This one?
ELLIOT
Yeah, I love that author. Her stuff is very spicy.
Spicy means sex, right?
ELLIOT
Correct.
Got it.
I open the story, settling in to read for the rest of the flight. I’m proud of myself for breaking the ice with Elliot without being weird or making him uncomfortable. It’s none of my business if he does sleep with Shelby.
Now that I’ve had the thought, it won’t go away. My brain immediately floods with images of Shelby and Elliot together, and I can’t seem to turn them off. I’m about to lose my mind when my phone vibrates, and I click on the message before looking to see who it’s from.
ELLIOT
I’ve been reading this one and think you’d like it. It’s also hockey (I’ve been on a hockey kick lately, don’t judge me), but the guy is mute, and the girl doesn’t know ASL.
How do they communicate?
ELLIOT
Mostly through texts.
And at least one questionable use of FaceTime.
I laugh louder than I mean to, and my eyes cut to Steal. He doesn’t move from the little ball he’s curled himself into, so I assume he’s managed to fall asleep like that.
That’s always a fun time.
The three dots pop up but disappear almost immediately. After a full minute without getting a text, I reopen the eReader app and start reading the historical romance. The last thing I need is to get hard on a plane full of my teammates.
I’m halfway through the second chapter when Elliot finally sends me another text.
ELLIOT
Have you done that before?
I look at the messages before that one, unsure what he’s asking.
You mean a “spicy” FaceTime?
ELLIOT
Yeah.
Of course.
When Elliot doesn’t immediately respond, I start to feel a bit nervous. My thumbs move quickly across the screen as I try to explain myself.
It comes in handy when I’m on the road with the team.
Jesus Christ, Matthew. Comes in handy ? I really couldn’t have thought of a better way to phrase that?
ELLIOT
That makes sense.
I read the message three times before I reply, and because I’m a glutton for punishment, the perfectly reasonable question I ask is:
Have you ever done it?
There’s a long pause, and I think he may not respond, but eventually, the little dots appear.
ELLIOT
No, but I think I’d like to someday. It always sounds so fun in books. I’ve just never had a partner I trust enough to try things like that.
Why does that feel like an invitation? It isn’t one, I know it isn’t, but fuck if my brain isn’t begging for it to be Elliot’s way of asking me to give him this experience. I can just picture him spread out on a bed, with his phone in hand and all that soft skin on display for me.
Me , not Adam fucking Shelby.
There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right person.
ELLIOT
I know that, mother.
I huff a quiet laugh at that, doing my best not to wake anyone around me.
I just want to make sure you understand that all experiences are valid, sweetheart.
ELLIOT
It’s so annoying that King has ruined “sweetheart”.
Yeah, he really screwed us all with that one.
ELLIOT
Have you heard Mills calling Charlotte “baby”?
My eyes snap to the man sleeping with his mouth open in front of me, and I try to imagine him pulling off the nickname “baby”. It’s a tricky one, and not everyone can do it, but I suppose that’s Miller’s specialty.
No, but I can see it.
ELLIOT
It’s certainly an experience.
I’m not sure what he means by that, but he’s typing again before I can ask.
ELLIOT
If you were to have a nickname, what would you want it to be?
Easy. Everyone calls me “big man”.
ELLIOT
Okay, first of all, I meant specifically with a sexual partner, and second, dudeeeee.
What? Everyone calls me that. YOU have called me that before!
ELLIOT
Yeah, as a joke. No one should call you “big man” in bed.
It’s so tempting to tell him he’s wrong, but this isn’t that kind of conversation. This is two friends talking about the sickeningly cute names couples call each other.
What would your nickname be?
ELLIOT
I don’t know about names for me, but I can see myself calling someone Daddy.
I stare at the phone for a long moment, unsure how to respond. It’s so far from what I expected that I think it broke my brain. Do people actually do that outside of porn?
ELLIOT
For the record, because we’re new at this friendship thing, and this is a text, so there’s no inflection here; that was a joke. I could never say that with a straight face.
Thank fuck. I was trying to find a way to respond without coming across like I’m kink-shaming.
ELLIOT
I appreciate that.
My honest answer is boring. I don’t really use nicknames.
I’ve used a few, but it depends on the person more than anything else.
ELLIOT
What would you call me?
Shit . For the second time, I’m stuck staring at my phone at a total loss. What would I call Elliot if he were mine? I never let myself have those thoughts about my friends, and for good reason. It’s a quick slide into unrequited love, and that isn’t a place I enjoy being.
ELLIOT
Is that too personal for friends?
No, I just can’t think of anything that suits you.
ELLIOT
That must be why no one has ever called me anything but Elliot.
Other than that guy who kept calling me Eli, but I’m pretty sure he just thought that was my name.
I have a deep desire to beat the shit out of every dude Elliot’s ever been with. I’m still drowning in murderous thoughts when my phone vibrates again.
ELLIOT
I have a question, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to ask a friend.
Only one way to find out.
ELLIOT
What all have you done?
I stare at the message. Is he asking me about sex? About my sex life, specifically? I force a deep breath through my nose, thinking of how I would respond if Mills asked me that. I’d tell him to fuck off, so maybe not Mills. What about Steal? If he asked me what my sexual history was, I would assume it was coming from a place of genuine curiosity. I would answer him honestly but vaguely. I can do that for Elliot.
I’ve been with people of all genders, so I’ve done most versions of penetrative and oral sex. I’ve also been with multiple partners at a time, so that includes most forms of multiple penetration.
I lean toward topping, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t bottomed for the occasional person. As far as kink goes, most of my partners have had some kind of verbal kink: begging, dirty talk, praise, degradation, praise/degradation combo.
As a top specifically: bondage, impact play (mostly spanking), orgasm denial, voyeurism and exhibitionism, sex toy control, blindfolds, choking, edging, fisting (not my favorite), roll play, degradation/humiliation, breeding kink, and sensation play. I know there’s more, but that’s all I can think of right now.
As a bottom: bondage, wax play, somnophilia, pegging. Most people shy away from asking me to bottom because I’m such a big guy they just assume I want to top. I could write a whole thesis on assumptions like those, but I’ll spare you from that (for now).
I send the messages without reading them back, knowing that if I let myself think about it for even a moment, I wouldn’t send them at all. Elliot doesn’t respond for so long that I start to think he may have fallen asleep while I was typing. It’s been a long week, and I can’t blame him for being tired, but I still feel a pang of sadness that our texts are done. I pull up the book I’d been reading earlier and get sucked into the story.
When my phone buzzes again, I’m surprised to see Elliot’s name at the top of the screen.
ELLIOT
Am I allowed to ask questions? Because I have questions, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
Something tells me I will regret this, but there’s no way I’m saying no. I want to know what kinds of questions Elliot has. I want to know what he’s curious about, what he’s interested in, what turns him on.
Ask away.
ELLIOT
What is sex toy control?
Mostly things like vibrating butt plugs. My partner would wear it while we’re out, but I had the controller to change the intensity throughout the night.
ELLIOT
And what do you mean when you say praise/degradation combo?
It’s mostly just [praise] + [degrading name]. So, things like “Such a pretty fucktoy” or “Look how well my little whore takes me”.
I should not have included the examples. My cock has officially entered this conversation, and it has no intention of leaving any time soon.
ELLIOT
And that’s a normal thing for people to be interested in?
Before this moment, I never would have considered Elliot the type to enjoy the rougher sides of sex, but now it’s all I can think about.
Elliot, on his knees, sucking my cock while I tell him he’s such a good little slut. Elliot, face down on my bed, holding himself open and begging me to fuck him and fill him. Elliot, riding my dick with a chastity cage on.
Fuck, I want that. I want him bent over and begging for me.
Nope, friends. Friendsfriendsfriends . I’m Elliot’s friend, and he’s asking me this because he trusts me.
Yes, it is.
I have more experience with degradation than humiliation, but probably nowhere near as much as you have from your books.
ELLIOT
Romance books are not a safe sex resource. The need for plot development tends to make them unrealistic, especially when it comes to kink.
What do you mean?
ELLIOT
I read one the other day where three separate men fucked this dude bare, then each of them ended up putting their dirty dicks in the guy’s mouth. Post anal! Can you believe that??
This is a special kind of torture that should only be reserved for the lowest levels of Hell. I always assumed I’d end up in Satan’s playground, but I didn’t think it would happen while I was still alive.
You read about foursomes?
ELLIOT
Sometimes. They’re not my favorite, but that book had been recommended a few times for the degradation, so I tried it out.
Someone fucking kill me.
Did you enjoy the degradation part of it?
ELLIOT
Yeah, but like…dirty dicks in the mouth kind of ruined it for me.
Fair.
I try to think of something else to say, but my brain is a little short on blood flow at the moment.
ELLIOT
I want to ask you something because you have experience here and I’ve never talked to anyone who might have an answer for me.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t promise I’ll have an answer but I’m happy to help however I can.
I watch the little dots on the screen like they’re about to reveal all the answers to the Universe.
ELLIOT
How would someone go about asking to be degraded with a new partner?
This is it. This is how I die. Before I respond, I force myself to take several deep breaths and spend a solid minute repeating that Elliot isn’t interested in me degrading him.
Be honest with them when you have the consent conversation. Tell them what you want and be as specific as possible.
Communication up front prevents a lot of things from happening in the moment that might make one or both of you uncomfortable. And if it turns out they cannot meet your needs, or you theirs, then you need to be able to have that conversation with them as well. It really does all come down to communication.
There’s a long pause before he texts me back.
ELLIOT
The consent conversation?
Elliot, please tell me your partners have been talking to you about boundaries and consent before you experiment together.
ELLIOT
I’ve never experimented with anyone, so the extent of consent has been “yes, please”.
I’m going to have an aneurysm. I shift in my seat, trying to remove some of the pressure where my jeans are pressed against my painfully hard dick.
You haven’t experimented at all?
ELLIOT
Unless you call vanilla “experimenting”, then no.
Do you want to experiment?
And that question is the one that reserves my spot in Hell behind the velvet ropes but it’s worth it because I have to know . I have to know if Elliot is desperate to be taught new things. Would he be pliant and willing? Would he be cautious but curious?
ELLIOT
I’ve never been comfortable asking for things like that.
But if you found someone you were comfortable with, would you ask for more?
The pilot announces the flight attendants will begin preparing for descent, but my eyes are locked on the phone in my hand. Elliot isn’t typing. Why isn’t he typing?
Steal shifts in the seat next to me, and I grab my hoodie off the ground to lay across my lap before either of us ends up in a situation we’d rather avoid.
“Home already?”
“Almost,” I nod, clearing my throat. “You sleep alright?”
He huffs, rolling out his neck. “I’m getting too old to sleep on planes.”
“You’re like twenty-five.”
“I’m twenty-seven, asshole.”
“And I’m thirty-four, you dickheads,” Mills groans from the seat in front of me. He stretches, and I can hear his back crack from here. “If anyone is too old for this shit, it’s me.”
My amusement at Miller’s discomfort dies when my phone vibrates with an incoming message.
ELLIOT
I have a whole list of things I’d want to try with the right partner.