Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Nico stood at the windows, watching the sea of cars beneath him. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tee, and nothing more. Nothing.
Cedric Pearson’s voice carried through the loft apartment, echoing off the exposed brick walls.
Cedric played for the Cobras two decades prior with Rich Callahan, Cooper Callahan’s father, and was now the primary commentator for Cobra games.
“The Cobras arrived in Portland yesterday afternoon, missing their rookie quarterback. The promising athlete had a lot to prove, coming into the season after Cooper Callahan’s abrupt retirement early last year.
He is out today with his second concussion within the span of his first six games. ”
“There’s no denying that this team took a hit with the loss of Callahan and Davies,” Grant Newell added.
“It really shook up this organization and we’re still seeing this team try to pick up the pieces.
When you look at a player like Nico Fallon, he’s an absolute weapon on paper.
The initial speculation when he was drafted by the Cobras was that he didn’t exactly fit their offensive scheme. ”
“Yeah, Grant. What we’re seeing is an organization struggling to fit a square peg into a circular hole.
It hasn’t exactly been working the way the fans would want.
With the addition of Cooper Callahan being brought on as a coach for the rookie quarterback, I’m eager to see how that changes the conversation for this team going forward. ”
“Fascinating development by the way. Who would have thought he’d return to the field so soon after retiring? It kind of gives fans hope—”
A knock on the door stole Nico’s attention and he found himself opening it too fast, as if he were there waiting the whole time and hadn’t immediately sprinted across the room.
Cooper stood in the hallway with one hand shoveled into a deep pocket of white and red athletic shorts. Calm and collected.
“Everyone in this city drives like their foot is glued to the pedal. Not you, though.” Nico wagged a finger at Cooper with a smile. “Cutting it awfully close to missing kickoff.”
“Blame it on my driver.” Cooper glanced down and then looked back at Nico. “I don’t drive.”
“I guess we’re even, now,” Nico said, welcoming Cooper inside with a flick of his hand.
“Specify, please.”
“I was late yesterday and you’re late now, which means we’re squared away.”
“Not quite.” Cooper raised his wrist to check the time on his smart watch. “By my calculations, you’re still running a fifty-two-minute time deficit.”
Nico pointed to the island that served as a barrier between the kitchen and the living room. On the top of it was a spread of cheese, crackers, and a tin bucket filled with ice and a few different brands of beer. “Do you want a beer?”
“That was the agreement, right?” Cooper stepped past him and hung his backpack off the back of a chair lined up against the island. He searched through the available options, grabbed a Modelo and twisted the cap off. “We have a couple drinks and watch the game.”
“Don’t forget the part where you point out all the mistakes I’d be making if I were the one playing the game.”
“That’s the real reason I’m here.” Cooper’s gaze held firm over the top of the bottle as he took a sip of beer. “To watch you squirm.”
“The Cobras won the coin toss and have opted to defer taking the ball till the second half,” Cedric Pearson announced.
Nico and Cooper landed on opposite sides of the short couch as the Portland offense took the field. It was a quick three-and-out and with thirteen minutes left in the first quarter, Jensen Fuller led the Cobra offense onto the field.
Nico watched as Cooper straightened himself, zeroing in on the game.
But Nico wasn’t as interested in the game as he should have been.
He was much more interested in studying his coach, taking note of the way his blue eyes seemed to brighten just a little.
Noticed the way his hand always found its way to his face—brushing across his lips and scratching at the side of his nose.
He was always in motion. Restless. When his hand wasn’t occupied with caressing his own face, it was palming the neck of the bottle of beer.
Nico turned back to the TV just in time to see Fuller miss the throw on third down, and watched as the punting unit rushed onto the field with ten minutes left in the quarter.
It was going to be one of those boring games and Nico was simultaneously relieved he was not there while swearing it’d be different if he were.
Close to the end of the second quarter, neither team had scored.
“We’re almost at half-time and you haven’t told me how bad I am at playing football yet.” Nico took a long chug. It was his third beer and he was feeling slightly more brave than before, but still not quite brave enough to… What exactly was he trying to do again? “Are you okay?”
“The only thing you’re going to learn from this game is that there should be mandatory retirement once a player reaches a certain age,” Cooper said, still nursing his first beer.
“Surely, there must be something you can teach me.”
“Just remember that you asked for this.” Cooper set his beer on an end table and rifled through his backpack, grabbed his tablet, and sat back down on the couch.
Not in the space he was occupying before, but rather the middle seat right next to Nico.
He swiped through the tablet and took control of the TV, casting footage from Nico’s last game onto the big screen.
“Give me a minute to find what I’m looking for. ”
“The anticipation is killing me,” Nico said deadpan.
Nico watched as Cooper zipped through the footage, went too far, rewound, and hit play just about thirty seconds before the concussion.
“Come on,” Nico pleaded. “Haven’t we run this humiliation ritual into the ground already?”
“Relax,” Cooper said. “I found something new to poke and prod you about.”
Nico peeled his gaze to Cooper, sitting so close to him. Cooper cocked his gaze to the side, meeting Nico’s, pressed a strong finger against his cheek and forced him to look at the TV.
“Watch it closely,” Cooper whispered. “Tell me what you see.”
Nico groaned but did as instructed. The center snapped the ball to Nico who retreated into the temporary safety of the pocket.
He looked to his left, saw Matteo was double-covered in the slot, and ran to the right.
He had seen the clip enough times, had relived it enough times, to know what came next.
But Cooper paused the memory. “Why did you run there?”
Nico shrugged because he didn’t have a good answer. He saw clearly the point Cooper was trying to make, but was too stubborn to admit it. Too stubborn to point out the tight end, Sawyer Preston was wide open in the center of the field. Further down the field, Kaiden Lox was open in the red zone.
“I know you have eyes,” Cooper continued. “Your instinct is to run as soon as you can and that’s a habit we have to break. You’re not progressing through your reads properly before you get scared. Scared men don’t win football games.”
And Nico took that personally.
“Fuck off,” Nico howled.
“What did I tell you?”
“Specify please.”
Cooper pushed the tablet to the other side of the couch. “About telling me to fuck off.”
“Yeah,” Nico laughed. “But this time I’m joking, so there’s no need for you to look at me like….”
Nico’s words trailed off as he felt Cooper’s gaze upon him, dark and steely.
“What. Did. I. Tell. You?” Cooper asked, each word deeper than the last.
Nico’s eyes rolled to the top of his head as he attempted to recollect the full conversation. “To… earn it?”
He looked back to Cooper for confirmation and quickly found it.
“Have you?” Cooper asked. “Earned it?”
“If I’m a…” The words were so ridiculous, so loaded, that Nico couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Not with the way Coach was looking at him.
“If you’re a what?”
“You know what.” Nico swallowed an empty gulp.
The distance between Cooper and Nico seemed to lessen. Their thighs brushing against each other at first and then squeezing, like being trapped between the ends of a vicegrip.
“You’re not saying it,” Cooper growled.
“If I’m a good boy,” the words came out so low, he might as well been whispering them.
“And how are you going to be a good boy?”
“By being a better quarterback.”
“In the context of how I’m looking at you right now, do you really think I’m talking about football?”
Up until that point, Nico wasn’t exactly sure.
There was an off-chance Callahan had other intentions in the way he pressed his body against his, in the way he pleaded with him to repent.
Doubt jumped out the twenty-second story window and all that was left was silence as the game faded into the halftime show in front of them.
A hand fell upon Nico’s, soft at first—as soft as an athlete’s hand could be, anyway.
And then firmer, stroking and guiding. Nico let Callahan take the lead, let him guide his hand to the other man’s lap.
The heat was the first thing Nico noticed, and he dropped his gaze to Callahan’s shorts.
He noticed the outline of the coach’s cock.
Thick. Rising against the fabric and then falling, leaving creases behind until the space would fill again.
Cooper traced his fingers up the back of Nico’s palm and circled there patiently.
Nico needed no more guiding. He reached forward, palmed the other man’s cock through his shorts. It felt familiar, but not. Felt wrong, but not. Felt like this was such a breach of the coach-player contract, but he’d always loved breaking rules.
Nico had tested Cooper the day prior in the locker room. He felt a spark of something unfamiliar, and needed to know if it was something real. Needed to know if Cooper felt that same spark. Cooper believed he had all the power, but this was exactly what Nico wanted.
Game. Set. Match.
A finger hooked under Nico’s chin and guided his gaze upwards to meet Cooper’s.
His coach wanted to see him like this, wanted to watch him and Nico wanted to watch right back.
Cooper arched upward and pushed his shorts and white underwear down his thighs. His cock slipped free, slapping against the happy trail on his stomach.
Nico took the briefest of glances at the man’s cock before he was guided right back to where he was before, where he belonged—staring into his coach’s eyes as he took his cock in his hand.
The cock, a real human cock, felt more alive in his hand than his toys.
It felt more terrifying too. Harder and somehow yet softer, like it was coated in silk.
It was warmer. Hotter than his toys. He gave the older man a few strokes and watched as moans fumbled through a small part in his lips.
Watched as Cooper’s mouth fell open, his tongue dancing along the edge of his teeth.
Cooper’s fingers brushed through the hair on the top of Nico’s head, and then applied just enough pressure to give Nico a hint of what to do next. It was permission for him to break the staring war they’d been engaged in.
As Nico leaned over, he took in a good whiff.
The scent of clean masculinity stirred with a dash of salty sweatiness.
He’d smelled his own man bits on far too many occasions and they never quite smelled as clean.
It was almost as if Cooper had prepared for this.
And thank god because Nico had wiped his fingers on his sweaty balls once and stuck them in his mouth, just to see what it tasted like. Hashtag never again.
Nico’s heart raced, pounded against his chest. What if this was all a joke? What if this was all a test? A hazing ritual for the rookie.
Fuck it.
He brushed his tongue over the head of Cooper’s cock and the wicked half-word the older man cried out was enough to instill enough bravery in him to swallow him whole.
Cooper shifted beneath him, reached around Nico and pushed his clothes past the curve of his knees.
The man spread his trembling legs as Nico bobbed his mouth up and down his shaft.
The more he sucked, the slippier Cooper’s cock became as saliva combined with salty precum.
“Shit… Fuck. Rookie…. I’m going to…”
Nico swallowed him to the hilt.
“Come,” Cooper groaned, pushed down on the back of Nico’s head, exploding in the rookie’s mouth.
When Nico was finished, he lifted himself from Cooper’s cock with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, and a droplet of cum smeared over his bottom lip. He wiped it away as he sat up, taking in the sight of his coach who stared blankly ahead, breathless and chest heaving.
Nico couldn’t break away from watching Cooper’s lips as he pictured himself kissing him. As he pictured inhaling every sharp exhale into his own mouth. He reached down and caressed his own cock through his sweats, waiting for Cooper to return the favor.
But he was met only with silence, and so he did what he always did.
He put on a smile. “Do I have the right to tell you to fuck off now?”
“I…” Cooper’s eyes drifted away. “I should go.”
Nico chuckled nervously. “I think you should stay.”
Cooper shook his head and landed on his feet, pulling his clothes back up his legs and tucking away his half-hard cock. “There are lots of things I should be doing right now, and none of them involve staying.”
Nico sat still, watching as the other man gathered his things and stuffed them into his backpack. “You said my first instinct was to run without considering other options, but isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”
Cooper passed him a knowing glare, the kind of look that screamed, damn man, you’re right. You know what, I think I’ll stay.
Those weren’t the words that came out of Cooper’s mouth. “I just remembered I have—”
“A thing you need to do that absolutely cannot wait.”
“How did you know?” Cooper smiled, but it was the furthest fucking thing from genuine.
“Because I’m a runner, too.”
“Right.” Cooper nodded and made a beeline for the door. He reached for the knob, but turned back to Nico. “Thanks for having me and thanks for…” He stopped himself, brushing a finger over his bottom lip. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”
The door opened and closed before Nico could give his coach a proper goodbye.
He sank back down on the couch and stared at the game returning from the halftime show. Sat in silence with an ache in his gut and a throbbing in his pants.