Chapter 17
Zamir
Isaid I would not do this again, but what am I doing? Stalking up to Nash in his fucking kitchen. Now that he’s finally admitted to why he’s been acting the way he has, it’s all starting to make sense.
Should we be doing this as teammates?
No.
Do I give a fuck?
Also, no.
Let’s really test the waters. “That cock of yours is about to bust through those sweats.” He’s shirtless and has been since I walked in here. It shouldn’t make my stomach flip… but it does. He seems comfortable with me, which surprises me since we’ve been arguing like divorced parents since he joined the team.
I pin him up against the oversized island and palm him through his pants. 1“Fuck, you’re big.” I lean in and take the skin between his neck and collarbone into my mouth with a suck. I want to mark him, and that scares me; I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this… if ever.
I’ve moved my hands up to his hips. He has his eyes closed and is grinding his dick against mine. “Look at me when you’re rubbing that fat cock of yours against mine.” I grab his chin. “Use me all you want.” Those words sting coming out. I’m so fucking tired of just being used. I want more, but it seems everyone in Vegas is just looking for a good time. I can’t blame Nash either; he’s young as hell, hot as fuck, and wants to explore this new side of his sexuality.
“Fuck, Z, are you sure?” My breath hitches.
My voice sounds like gravel as I demand, “Say it again.” That nickname makes me think of Ellie.
“Say what again?”
“Z. Why did you call me that?” I question him.
“It just slipped out.” He shrugs.
With a growl, I push my hips and my own straining cock onto his even further and lean over him. I grip his hips hard, forcing him to stop the grinding. I grit out, “Say it.”
His back is almost flat on the island. I’m normally not the dominant one, but something about this being his first time with a guy is making me feral.
He pants out, “Why don’t you give me a reason to say it.”
Yep, the dominance is out to play now.
“On the counter. Lay flat.” I bark out.
I can see him trembling a bit; he’s nervous. I can fix that, and he’ll for sure be screaming my name here in a couple of minutes.
“Joder, Z.”
“Keep talking that Spanish to me, and I’ll end up busting in my pants.” He easily slides his ass up onto the counter, and I push on his shoulder to lay him back. My hands are on his waistband, but I look him in the eye and ask, “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been so sure in my life.” I hate being someone’s experiment when I know exactly what I want. I’ve warded off baby bi’s because I always end up getting hurt. Honestly, the one-night stands too. I’m just ready to settle down in all honesty. I want someone to share this life with. A genuine partner, whoever that may be. It’s hard to find nowadays, though. Everyone is worried about fame, power, and money and will do anything to get it.
“Get ready for the best head of your life.” He huffs out like he doesn’t believe me, and excitement runs through me from being the first guy to be able to pleasure him like this. “Lift up for me.” I tap his hip, and he does just that. I slide his sweats and briefs down his legs, and his fucking monster cock flops onto his stomach.
“What in the actual fuckery. Who would’ve thought you’d be carrying this piece around? Damn I wish our football pants were white.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger dick. I wrap my hand around it. “Yep, never seen one this big. Djale I Bukur, I hope you want to bottom.” He lifts his head and looks mortified at that suggestion. “No pressure, Nash, I was just fucking around. Now lay back and let me see if my gag reflex is really as non-existent as I say it is.”
He takes my wrist to stop me. “I do want to eventually.” I nod and give him a soft smile I only reserve for certain people before I take his tip into my mouth. I pull off slowly to spit on it, all while looking up at him. He groans and lays his head back on the counter top. I work my spit up and down his thick, swollen length with my hand. Then I take him as far into my throat as humanly possible, meeting my hand—fuck—he really is massive.
“Z, yes! Please… More.” I start to grip with my hand, rotating it over his shaft with a tough hold.
I pop off. “I love hearing you beg. You sound like such a good boy.” He looks back at me; those normally caramel eyes heat to a fiery brown. He likes to be a good boy.
Still pumping up and down his length, I instruct, “Put your feet up on the counter.” He does just that. “Has anyone touched you here?” I run a feather-light finger over his puckered hole. He tenses but quickly relaxes.
“No.” He’s already breathless.
My self-control snaps. I push his legs up to his chest. “Hold them here, and don’t let go until I tell you you can.” I lean back down, staring right at him all spread out. “This is very pretty. I can’t wait to wreck it.”
I begin by licking up his hole, pulling both of his balls into my mouth, and then running my tongue up the whole length of his shaft. Taking his cock back into my mouth, I bob up and down, giving his balls a nice tug.
“I like being your first, Djale I Bukur.” I run my finger around his hole again. “Do you have any lube here?” He’s shaking his head back and forth. I’ll let the not answering with words go this time. “You’re from the south… What about Crisco?”
He’s fully up and on his elbows now. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Crisco. Like the cooking oil.” I shrug. “Works great in a bind.” I could just use my spit, but I want this to be as enjoyable as possible for him.
“Up above the stove,” he says with a questioning voice. He’ll trust me with his whole existence after I give him the best orgasm of his life. “Was I supposed to prepare for this?” Fuck he’s so cute when he’s worried.
“No, Nash, sit back and relax. Let me milk this big cock of yours.”
There are a lot of men who are fighting with themselves in all pro sports because of their sexuality. Football is the worst, though, in my opinion, with all the toxic masculinity that makes men think they can’t be anything out of the perceived norm. They have to figure that out on their own. Some are even married with kids and will be secretly fucking their guy best friends behind their wife’s backs. They can live that miserable life. I don’t think Nash is going to fall into the same category as the rest, but that could just be my hopeful thinking.
Knocking at the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I whip my head back to Nash’s. “Are we expecting pizza or something?”
He’s up, pulling his pants up, mumbling something in Spanish, and walking over to the door.
1.High - Stephen Sanchez