Chapter 22
SEBASTIAN
Taylor flicked on his blinker at the stop sign. “Hendricks is going to review the game film tomorrow. See if Monroe and I have what it takes to keep the pairing.”
“You do.”
He glanced at me quickly, his eyebrows raised, before making a left turn. “You don't know that.”
“No, but Ethan does, and he said you worked well together. Something about Monroe taking risks, and you minding the defensive zone. He also said that Bell said you’re killing it at practice, already playing better than last year.”
Taylor’s smile was bright, even in profile. “Well, all right then.”
At the next red light, his hand found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The touch wasn’t remotely sexual, but by the time we pulled into his driveway twenty minutes later, I was practically vibrating.
Taylor killed the engine and turned to me. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”
“Me too,” I said, reaching for the handle. "But I really need you, so get your ass inside."
We launched ourselves from the car and up the path to the front door. Taylor fumbled the key twice before it slid home. I grabbed his suit jacket and pulled him to me, kicking the door shut behind us.
The kiss was deep and hungry, all tongues and teeth and days of pent-up horniness rising to the surface.
Taylor made a desperate sound and crowded me back against the wall, his hands framing my face.
“Missed you so fucking much,” he mumbled between kisses, his breath hot against my mouth. “Down here or upstairs?”
I thought briefly about the couch, about the quick release we could have there. But I was greedy and wanted to take my time with him.
“Upstairs, definitely.”
We shed our clothes along the way—our shoes kicked off in the hallway, his suit jacket tossed on the newel post, my coat on the floor of the upstairs landing, our pants and underwear discarded just outside the bedroom door.
We tumbled onto his bed, limbs tangling. Taylor rolled us over so that I was on top, his hands sliding down my back, his fingers digging into the globes of my ass. “You're fucking me tonight.”
My dick throbbed at the confidence in that statement.
He’d enjoyed himself the one time I’d topped him, but hadn’t asked for it again. Not that I was complaining. The last time Taylor had fucked me, I came so hard I saw stars behind my eyelids.
He pulled me down for another kiss, his hips rolling against mine. “Make me yours.”
“You’re already mine,” I said, reaching for his nightstand and fumbling for the bottle of lube and a condom.
Taylor caught my wrist. “Wait. Um … actually … I want to talk to you about something.”
I froze. “What’s wrong?”
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and I rolled away, moving into a similar position.
“I get tested regularly,” he began. "A full STI panel is part of my regular physical. I got the results back this week, and everything’s negative.” He swallowed hard, and I could see his pulse fluttering in his neck.
My brain had no difficulty catching up with where this conversation was going.
“I want ... I mean,” he continued, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink. “If you’re comfortable with it, I don’t want to pressure you or anything ... I’d … I want just you. No condoms.”
Even having guessed that was what he was going to say, I couldn’t lie—the idea frightened me a bit. Condoms had always been a given for me, no exceptions. But it also excited the hell out of me. I wanted that closeness with Taylor. The trust. Nothing between us.
“I’m on PrEP—have been for a while—but I’ll get tested this week and then we can …”
A slow smile spread across his face—the kind that I knew meant trouble. “And then you can make me your cum slut?”
I dropped my head forward with an exaggerated groan. “Oh my god. Please don’t ever say that again.”
He cackled. “What, you don’t like the thought of filling me up?”
I threw my legs over the side of the bed as if I was leaving. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going home.”
Taylor launched himself at me, tackling me back down onto the mattress, then climbed over me, bracketing my hips with his thighs. He weaved our fingers together and pinned my hands down on either side of my head. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“You’re gonna pay for that.” I flipped him over, not an easy feat considering the twenty pounds of muscle he had on me, and covered his body with mine.
Taylor’s laugh turned into a moan as I ground down against him, kissing my way down his body, pausing to bite gently at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He arched into it, his hands fisting in my hair.
“Mine,” I murmured against his skin.
“Yours.”
I continued mapping every inch of his chest and stomach with my mouth. When I reached the sharp V of muscle cutting down his hips, I glanced up. He was propped on his elbows, breathing hard, his cock jutting straight in the air.
He looked at it meaningfully, his eyebrow lifting.
With a smirk, I dipped away, kissing and nipping along the inside of his thighs, my pace unhurried, moving close but never giving him what he so desperately wanted.
“You gonna make me beg?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Would you?”
He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
What I wanted was him. And by dragging this out, I was denying myself, too.
“I want you,” I said, wrapping my hand around him and licking him from root to tip before engulfing him fully.
“Oh, fuck.” His body reacted instantly, his hips jerking up off the bed, his cock hitting the back of my throat.
I took my time—long, slow pulls of my hand, my tongue tracing the vein along the underside, my lips wrapped around just the head while he writhed beneath me. Only once I had him panting and cursing, did I pull off.
“Roll over,” I said, flicking the cap on the lube bottle open.
He obeyed instantly, and I took a moment to admire the long line of his back, the curve of his ass, the way his muscles shifted as he breathed.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I ran my hands over his skin.
“Sebastian, please.”
I slicked up my fingers and pressed the first one inside. Taylor pushed back against it with a groan. I worked him open slowly and carefully, adding a second finger, then a third.
When I tapped against his prostate, his arms gave out, and he dropped onto his front, his back arching beautifully.
“There,” he gasped. “Right there, please don’t stop.”
I reached for the condom and rolled it on. I slicked myself up, then lined up behind him.
With a greedy little grunt, Taylor pushed back.
“Easy,” I said, gripping his hip with my free hand.
I pushed forward slowly, watching his body open for me. When I was buried to the hilt, he let out a satisfied-sounding groan, and we both went momentarily still.
“Okay?”
“So fucking okay.”
I pulled back and pressed in again and again, setting a steady rhythm, Taylor pushing back every time I drove forward. On my next thrust, I folded over, covering his back with my chest, and pressed my mouth to his shoulder blade. “I love you,” I said against his skin. “So much.”
“Love you, too,” he gasped. “But I need you to stop being gentle. Fuck me harder, Seb. I can take it.”
I straightened back up and gripped his hips in both hands, pulling him back to meet the slap of my hips against his body, his face pressed into the mattress as I pounded into him.
With each thrust, the pressure at the base of my spine coiled tighter.
I wasn’t going to last much longer. I needed him to come before I did.
“Get yourself there,” I gritted out.
Taylor’s right hand disappeared beneath his body. After a few pumps, his whole body tensed in that unmistakable way that told me he was about to come.
I felt him shudder, and then he let out a muffled groan against the pillow, his ass squeezing my cock.
The pressure in my balls erupted, the first jet of cum shooting out of me. I gripped Taylor’s hips harder, holding him in place, and thrust deep, my thighs pressed against the back of his legs, as my orgasm barreled through me.
I collapsed forward, covering Taylor’s sweat-slick back with my chest, my pulse loud in my ears. Taylor hooked his pinkie around mine as the room came slowly back into focus.
I pulled out, tied off the condom, and disposed of it, then climbed back into the bed.
Taylor rolled against me, draping an arm and a leg over my body. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“Me too,” I said, recalling how I’d woken up at four o’clock in the morning the day before, hard and aching from a dream I’d had where Taylor had me bent over his dining room table. “I don’t want to go back to my apartment tonight,” I admitted, running my fingers through his hair.
“Then don’t.” He propped himself up on one elbow to look at me. “I’ll drive you back in the morning.”
A voice at the back of my head told me it was a bad idea to stay.
That if I did, I’d never want to leave again.
That I was neglecting a job I was getting paid handsomely to do.
There were so many reasons for me to head back, but none of them mattered when this man was lying next to me, telling me that he wanted more time together.
That he loved me and he wanted me by his side.
It was everything twenty-one-year-old me had wished for.
“Okay.”
His smile was radiant as he leaned down and kissed me before settling back down on my chest.
We fell asleep tangled together, and for the first time in days, I didn’t dream about campaign strategies or polling numbers or crisis management. I just slept.
I woke to the sound of buzzing from somewhere outside the room. Last night came back to me in vivid flashes, reminding me that my phone was still in my pocket, my pants discarded somewhere outside this room.
When the phone stopped buzzing but then immediately started again, I extracted myself out from under Taylor’s arm and padded out of the room, retrieving my boxers just outside the door. I stepped them on and fished my phone out of the front pocket of my jeans.
I had a string of missed messages.
David