Chapter 3 #4
Instead, I decide to teach him an important lesson about sex.
“Hey,” I say and open one eye to peer at him.
He looks at me with so much softness in his gaze, I need to close my eyes again.
“So, normally we check in with the other person before we touch them,” I say gently.
“You know. Unless you’ve agreed on some ground rules. ”
Marlon’s hand disappears immediately and I almost regret what I said. But consent is important and I need to make sure he’s aware.
“Shit.” He sounds distressed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even—I don’t know what I was—”
I lean over and silence him with a kiss.
“It’s okay. I liked it. Just something to keep in mind for—for your future partners.
” Isn’t that a terrible thought; Marlon with someone else.
Makes the inside of my mouth taste bad. So I clear my throat and quickly move on.
“So, what’s next? Are you ready for round two? ”
Marlon looks a little uncomfortable and I immediately know the night is over. “Or do you want to go home?” I add, quickly, to make it easier for him to back out.
“I—” He pulls a tiny grimace. “I’m sorry, you didn’t even get off yet, but I—”
“No.” I firmly grip his chin and make him look at me. “Never apologise for not wanting sex. That’s your right. Any decent partner will understand and support your decision.”
“Okay.” He gives a tiny nod but still doesn’t look happy. “I wish I could—you know. Return the favour. But it’s a lot, and my head is—” He gestures as if to mimic an explosion.
I knew this was coming. Him not wanting to do more was always the most realistic outcome, and I knew that going in. I’m glad he’s able to understand his boundaries and listen to his body. I just wish I could have held him for a little longer. Kissed him one more time.
But that’s a me problem and I’m not going to bother Marlon with it.
“I can imagine,” I say softly. And I do.
“My first time with a man was overwhelming too, and I knew I was not straight when I went out to meet him.” A quick, lopsided grin to show him I’m not being mean.
“So your brain must be going a mile a minute.”
“Yeah.” Marlon smiles. “Something like that.” He sits up and the bedsheet slips, giving me a glance at his dick. One last time, I look at it, before I have to pretend it doesn’t exist when we’re back to being team mates.
“Thank you,” Marlon continues. “Really. This was—” He gestures helplessly, and I nod. I know exactly what he means. “I never could have imagined—” He shrugs and I want to hug him. I want to touch him so bad, kiss his head and hold him and gently caress his skin.
So I throw back the duvet and sit up, then go searching for my t-shirt.
Marlon follows my cue and soon enough we’re both dressed again, like nothing’s ever happened. Only Marlon’s still slightly red lips and his messed-up hair remain as proof that it wasn’t just all a wonderful, long, detailed dream.
“Okay then.” Marlon looks uncertain, clearly not sure what he’s supposed to do now. He keeps looking at my mouth, but I don’t think I would survive another kiss.
“See you tomorrow!” My preppy brightness is false but Marlon believes it, or at least he doesn’t comment on it.
“Yeah,” he says and walks over to where his coat and hat lie on the floor. “Okay. Thanks, Freddie. And I—yeah.” A touch of forefinger to forehead, like a tiny salute. ”You’re staying here?”
I inject nonchalance that I don’t feel into my shrug. “For a bit, yeah. We shouldn’t be seen leaving here together.” It was bad enough to arrive together.
Marlon inhales sharply, as if he hadn’t thought about the risk associated with that at all, so far. “Oh. Yeah.”
Yeah. Welcome to the homophobic world of professional football. None of us like it here. I cover up my bitterness with a grin, which Marlon returns, hesitantly, then he pushes open the door and steps through it.
I exhale slowly and refuse to dwell on this meeting for longer than I have to. It was fun. It was a one-time thing. And I’ll jerk off now to the memory of the sounds Marlon made earlier, but it doesn’t mean anything. We’re back to being colleagues.
I’m in the dressing room early because I’m too in my head about last night and I need to calm down before I see Marlon again. My mind is reeling over something that was supposed to be a casual thing. A one night stand. I’ve had dozens of those.
Even Hadidja could tell when I got home and she was still up, checking some lab data on her laptop with the telly running in the background. I was rattled and I couldn’t hide it. Not that I need to hide anything, usually, but this time…I wanted to hide it from myself.
Hadidja is my girlfriend only in name, a fake relationship that benefits us both.
So she’s never been bothered about my exploring and has done some of her own over the last year or so.
Her parents never would have let her move out on her own, so her lifelong best friend turned boyfriend was the perfect front to put up.
As for me…well, things like sneaking into hotels with men or visiting the occasional gay club are taken much less seriously when you’re in a committed, long-term relationship.
I love DJ like a sister and I know it's mutual, but I’ve never had actual romantic feelings for anyone. I’ve never missed it, either. I get companionship from DJ and sex from whomever I decide to hook up with.
With a sigh, I pull my hoodie off and slip a performance shirt on. Last night was the first time I ever experienced both in one person and it has rattled me. It’s because it was a new experience, I tell myself as I sit down to tie my trainers. It wasn’t about Marlon as a person.
It can’t be.
Because that would be really fucking dangerous.
In a sport with no out players, it’s bad enough we hooked up. Everyone would go mad if they found out, and not in a good way. To have feelings involved would be unthinkable.
So it’s a good thing there aren’t any.
I’m totally cool.
Still … the way his face lit up when he smiled at me? The way he reacted to my touch, like he wasn’t expecting it to be this good? I can’t stop replaying it in my head. The way he trusted me, from the very first moment. The way he needed me, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
I busy myself with moving stuff around in my cubby, alarmed by my body’s reaction to these fairly tame thoughts. What am I, seventeen? Embarrassing instant boners were certainly not part of the plan.
“Mate.” Our centre-back Mofe plops down next to me and nudges me. The self-proclaimed Black Diamond isn’t usually one for a serious conversation and I can see the mischief in his eyes now. “What’s up? I’ve never seen you quiet for this long. Everything good?”
“Yup,” I say, probably not very convincingly.
A quick glance around the dressing room tells me it’s still fairly empty, the physios are already at work but the room itself only has a handful of people in it.
No need to be nervous. It’s a normal question.
He’s being a friend. There’s no way he can know or even suspect anything.
“Super good.” Wow. Cool. That’s sure to get him off my back.
And, yeah. Mofe snorts. “Right.” His gaze turns serious for a moment. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah. Seriously, I’m fine,” I add when he obviously doesn’t believe me.
From the corner of my eye, I catch our captain, Julian, looking over at us.
Am I being that obvious? I get laid a lot, nobody’s ever said anything.
So why today? Mofe is looking right at me.
Julian isn’t, but I’m sure he’s listening. “Just … a long night.”
“Aaah.” Mofe’s usual grin is back. “I see. DJ and you still having fun, eh?”
My throat tightens for a moment, but I manage a grin.
If you only knew, brother; you wouldn’t be grinning at me the way you are now.
“A gentleman never tells.” I sound wrong, stilted and anxious when I’m usually the life of the party.
So I add a wink for good measure, hoping that will make it more believable.
“All right! Nice one, mate.” Mofe thumps my shoulder, then, mercifully, moves on and pulls Julian into a conversation.
That gets both of them off my case, I hope.
Julian’s only a couple years older than me, younger than many other players on the team, but he’s a great captain.
Perceptive and with good instincts about when to step in and when to let things run their natural course.
Plus, he’s a total snack with his dark curly hair and the confident grin.
Speaking of snacks…Marlon walks in when I grab a water bottle off the table of refreshments in the middle of the room.
We both freeze as our gazes look, then Marlon looks away and hurries over to his cubby, faint blush spreading across his cheeks.
My heart flutters at the sight, and that is dangerous as fuck.
It’s just Marlon. He looks exactly like he did yesterday and all the days before that. Angular face, dangerous cheekbones, short, ashy blond hair. A friend. A mate. Someone I grew up with, someone whose style of play is so engrained in my subconscious I could pick up a long pass from him blindly.
My heart shouldn’t be involved in this. The mini boner earlier? Yes, fine. Inconvenient but understandable. This though? I need to shut it down, pronto.
But fuck if I don’t remember that blush from last night, as well as the coy smile that accompanies it. It felt so good under my fingers.
Nope, nope, nope. Fucking chill, Bloom. Okay, what would I normally do?
I would greet him. Right? He’s one of my best mates.
Of course I would. So I turn around to where Marlon has shed his coat and I get a split second to admire his muscular back hiding in plain sight under the jumper he’s wearing.
Then Marlon turns back to the room and catches my eye.
Now I’m the one blushing? What the—I swallow. “Hey.” I’m known for my cockiness. For being unfazed, no matter what life—or the opposing team—throws at me. I am fully unlike myself.
“Hey.” Marlon’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly when he smiles, which is a perfectly normal thing to notice.
“You -” I clear my throat and look past his right shoulder. “You get home okay? Last night?”
His eyes flick up to mine and away again, then he bends to untie his boots. “Yeah,” he says softly.
“Did Clara give you grief?” I can’t seem to stop talking. Or watching his deft fingers move. “For coming home so late?”
Marlon snorts without looking up. “Are you kidding? She was having mimosas for breakfast to celebrate.”
I grin involuntarily and can see the corners of his mouth tugging upward, too. That sounds like Clara.
Silence falls between us and every passing second becomes more awkward. “So, uh, I’ll see you out there, yeah?” My voice is too loud but I can’t dial it down. “Gotta take a piss.” With that, I turn, drop the water bottle back on the table, and flee.
Wow, Bloom. Real smooth.
Oh my god. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so embarrassed.
My heart isn’t beating right, the rhythm off-beat and too fast, and I’m glad to lock myself in a cubicle in the bathroom.
It’ll be fine. It will all be fine. Sure, things are awkward now, but that’s to be expected.
It’s not every day you hook up with a teammate.
Or find yourself smitten with him afterwards.
Fuck. No. Not smitten. Just…confused. No. Not that either. I’m…fine. Yes.
Shit, I need to get a grip. We’re about halfway through the season and the upcoming weeks and months will be tough.
The first team plays more games than the under-21s did last year and I can’t afford any distractions.
I need to stay on top of my game if I want to prove the manager right for trusting me.
If any of this affects my performance, I will be so fucked.
If it affects Marlon’s performance, I will never forgive myself.
I need to get into the right mindset. Right now.
So I consciously relax my body and unclench my fists, do a couple shoulder rolls and then sit there and grin at the grey cubicle door like an idiot until it finally feels natural. Until it feels like I can go back out there and be the Freddie they’re all expecting to see.
Which I can totally do. I’m the same person I’ve always been. One night certainly doesn’t have the potential to change that.