Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
The following morning, Dabbs took a virtual meeting with his coach, his organization’s head of media relations, the general manager, and the team owner.
Sitting at the kitchen table with his earbuds in, he listened as the head of media relations—Lynne—walked them through the meeting she’d held with the producer who wanted to document the Trailblazers’ next season.
“There has to be a line,” Coach Madolora said, “between giving the camera people access to private spaces and ensuring the players don’t feel like their privacy and personal lives are being intruded on.”
“Agreed,” Lynne said. “And they do understand that, but conversely, we need to understand that unless they have access to those spaces, this documentary will never get made. If it’s something we’re truly interested in, we need to make concessions.”
“Have you asked the rest of the players?” Dabbs cut in before Lynne and Coach could butt heads. “Have you asked them how they feel about this and what kind of compromises they’d be willing to make for the good of the documentary?”
“Not yet.” Ramsey, the team’s GM, sat back in his office chair. Behind him was a painting of a generic landscape that could’ve been the south of France, Ireland, England, or even parts of Canada. “We want to iron out a few kinks first.”
“Talk to them,” Dabbs insisted. “Now, if you can. They’ll appreciate having the heads-up months ahead of time, but more importantly, you might learn that some of those kinks don’t actually exist.”
The team owner, Bill, a businessman who often let the conversation happen around him before jumping in with his own opinions, nodded.
“You might have a point.” Coach twirled a pen in one hand. “I’ll schedule a team meeting when we’re back from our road trip. The problem is that I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”
“Put it to them practically,” Dabbs said. “Not as a done deal, but as a maybe, and you want their opinions before you move forward. Just like you did with me.”
Movement caught his attention, and he glanced up to find Ryland entering the kitchen dressed in nothing but a towel and a tiny nose ring.
Dabbs made an aborted sound that would not have been appropriate.
Water droplets clung to Ryland’s tanned shoulders. His chest was smooth, his nipples darkened nubs, his stomach toned. His dark hair, often a mess of waves, was now a damp mess of waves.
Christ, he was sexy. A walking wet dream right out of Dabbs’ fantasies.
Dabbs hadn’t exactly meant to kiss him yesterday—or, rather, hadn’t meant to goad Ryland into kissing him.
But Ryland had been right there, all concerned—after he’d finished laughing, anyway—and Dabbs had been done.
He’d given up. Or given in, he wasn’t sure which, but he was absolutely done resisting the temptation that was Ryland Zervudachi.
They’d kissed for a long time in the bathroom until hunger had sent them in search of food.
They’d put the pumpkin carnage away to deal with later, then put the hockey game on and pretended to watch as they’d kissed some more.
Casually as you please, Ryland opened the final bag of apple bread—he’d already eaten the other two in the past few days—and popped two slices in the toaster. He noticed Dabbs watching him and pointed at the bag, eyebrow raised.
Want some?
Dabbs shook his head slowly. No, apple bread was very much not what he was hungry for at the moment.
Ryland seemed to catch on to what he was hungry for—probably by the way Dabbs was looking at him, which Dabbs was sure was full of lust—and smirking, he undid the knot at his waist. With a flourish, he whipped the towel off.
Dabbs would’ve choked on his own spit if the voices in his ear hadn’t reminded him of where he was.
Ryland, shameless, comfortable in his own skin, and tempting as fuck, leaned back against the kitchen counter—almost posing—right in Dabbs’ line of sight. He looked down at his erection, at Dabbs, at his erection, at Dabbs again.
A clear message: Are you going to do something about this?
Dabbs’ own erection pressed against his pants, but he was more concerned about getting Ryland’s in his mouth.
“Hey, sorry, uh . . . ” His graceless interruption of the conversation was met with silence. He couldn’t take his gaze off Ryland as he said, “I’ve got to go. The dogs . . . they, uh . . . got into . . . something?”
“Go ahead,” Coach said. “We’re wrapping up anyway. If you miss anything, I’ll catch you up when I see you.”
Dabbs didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t log off of the meeting. Just closed his laptop with a bang, pushed his chair back, and stalked up to Ryland, caging him against the counter with his arms. He smelled woodsy, like whatever body wash he’d used in the shower, and he felt like everything Dabbs wanted.
“You,” he said against Ryland’s lips, “are trouble.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” Ryland whispered back.
“Naked and naughty nursemaid has come out to play, huh?”
“He was just waiting for permission.”
Dabbs couldn’t say who kissed who first. It was probably mutual. Their lips clung, eager. Their hands roamed, desperate to touch.
Perhaps Ryland was right—why hadn’t Dabbs let Ryland kiss him in Maplewood on the Fourth? He’d thought they were too different, but . . .
Maybe they weren’t.
Or maybe they were, but the differences didn’t matter.
Setting those thoughts aside for now, Dabbs dropped to his knees, thankful the incision from his appendectomy didn’t give him any trouble. He took Ryland in hand, squeezing until Ryland’s eyes rolled back into his head.
“Oh fuck. Kyle.” Ryland gripped the edge of the counter in both hands. “Please suck me. Please.”
“Since you ask so nicely,” Dabbs said in an echo of Ryland’s words from yesterday.
There was something incredibly seductive about being fully dressed while Ryland was naked. It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, but that power lay in what he could do for Ryland. How he could make him feel.
And he wanted to make Ryland feel good.
He licked up the underside of Ryland’s cock, gratified when Ryland let out a low moan.
Then he laughed when that same moan had the dogs trotting into the kitchen to make sure they were okay.
“Eep.” Ryland grabbed a tea towel and covered himself with it, wide-eyed. “I don’t want to traumatize them.”
Dabbs laughed so hard he fell on his ass. “You two.” He pointed at the dogs. “Go back to napping. You.” Rising, he planted a hard kiss on Ryland’s mouth. “Bedroom.”
“I can get on board with that.” Ryland headed for the stairs, tea towel and all, transferring it to his butt so the dogs wouldn’t see his naked ass on the way up.
Snorting a laugh, Dabbs followed after him, nearly tripping over Bellamy’s kitten when she darted down the stairs.
In Dabbs’ bedroom, Ryland tossed the towel aside. “I want you to fuck me wearing that.”
Dabbs glanced down at himself. “Sweatpants and a T-shirt?”
“It’s alluring,” Ryland said, grabbing a fistful of Dabbs’ T-shirt in one hand and yanking him closer, “being naked while you’re fully clothed.”
Hadn’t Dabbs been thinking the same thing? He kissed Ryland and gave his butt a little love tap. “I don’t know if I can hold myself up yet.” He gestured vaguely at his abdomen before getting the lube and condoms out of his nightstand drawer. “You’ll have to sit on my dick.”
Ryland’s eyes lit up. His erection jerked. “You won’t hear me complaining,” he said on a gasp as Dabbs thumbed the pre-come away.
And he didn’t complain, but he did swear a blue streak several minutes later as he lowered himself onto Dabbs’ dick after Dabbs prepped him.
“Fuck, Kyle. Fucking fuck, you’re fucking big. Oh my god.” Ryland folded in half, tucking his head in Dabbs’ neck. “I need a minute.”
“Take your time,” Dabbs said, gritting his teeth against the urge to pump his hips. His sweatpants and underwear were down to his thighs, his T-shirt rucked halfway up his chest.
He trailed his hands up and down Ryland’s back, already sweaty, his chest heaving. He kneaded one butt cheek, the other. Spread them apart.
Ryland shuddered. “Shit. Fuck. I need to come so bad.”
The words set Dabbs’ body on fire. “Can I move?”
“I think so.”
Dabbs shifted, just a little, testing Ryland’s readiness.
“Yes. More.” Ryland scrambled up, one hand braced on Dabbs’ chest. He was flushed and beautiful, his hair wilder than Dabbs had ever seen it.
Dabbs gave an experimental pump of his hips, and when Ryland hissed out his pleasure, he didn’t hesitate.
The world outside the bedroom blurred, one step removed from reality as he pistoned into Ryland over and over. His surgical incision gave a twinge as he engaged his core, but he could live with the pain if it meant he got to see Ryland crumble with pleasure.
And crumble he did. Tugging at his erection, chasing his own pleasure, Ryland was magnificent as he came with a long groan.
Dabbs followed after him, liquid heat spreading from his balls upward to his chest and down to his toes.
When he came, it was with a shout as he buried himself in Ryland as deep as he could.
“Jesus.” Ryland heaved for breath and slumped over him again. “We need to have so much more of that before I head home.”
Dabbs couldn’t agree more.
* * *
“The eyes are a little too close together.”
“What?” Ryland stepped back from the pumpkin at Dabbs’ pronouncement and inspected the face he’d drawn in pencil. “You think?”
“That middle part between them will disintegrate if they’re too close together.” Dabbs gestured at it with a paring knife before resuming his apple slicing. “Move them farther apart. It’s a massive pumpkin. Might as well use the real estate.”
“True.” Ryland erased one eye and started over.