Chapter 27 #2
Unfortunately, it also lines him up perfectly. He bends over the table, and I swear to God he’s making a show of it. Leaning farther forward than he needs to. Raising his ass higher than necessary. Asshole.
With a crack, he hits his shot and sends his ball right into the corner pocket.
He gestures around the table. All that’s left for him to win is to land the eight ball. I, however, have all but one of my balls to go. “Did you want to go again before I close this out?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice full of sarcasm. “There’s totally a chance I can still win this game.”
“You just need more practice,” he says at the same moment he takes his shot. The balls clap together with another satisfying crack. I may suck at pool, but I do love that sound.
“I need a tutor,” I say as I start to take the balls out of the pockets and roll them to the end of the table to be racked.
His eyebrow quirks up, and he grins. “I can tutor you.”
I can’t help but smile at him, even though this does feel a little bit like a trap. “I don’t know,” I say. “You’re not very good at this game, either.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs, then points at me with his stick. “Rack them up, Baby. We’re gonna make this interesting.”
“How interesting? Because if you’re looking to play strip pool, you may as well just ask me to take my clothes off now.”
“Not that interesting,” Ryan says, smirking at me. “Unless…”
“Absolutely not,” I say as my heart and dick betray me. Both are beginning to get excited and a bit nervous as well. An intoxicating mix that is likely to make my pool shot even worse.
I place the last ball into the rack and slide it into place on the table. “Besides,” I say, “we’re not ‘screwing around at our captain’s house’ again.”
“I didn’t suggest it,” he says, and gestures for me to come to the other side of the table where he’s standing, waiting to break. “That would be a terrible idea.” His voice is dripping in sarcasm and faux innocence.
“Again,” I say, now positive this is a trap. “If you want to fuck around, just say it and we can go back to your place. There’s no need for you to humiliate me at pool first.”
“Quit being a brat and get over here.” He pats the edge of the table with his hand. “I’m going to teach you how to break.”
My breath hitches as I step towards him. Excited and nervous once again.
When I get there, he moves to stand behind me. He reaches around my body and grabs my hand, then places it on my cue stick. From there, he uses his hand to press me forward, and he crowds my space, his body pressing lightly against my back as he bends me forward over the table.
I gulp.
“Now,” he says, his lips hovering close to my ear. He grabs the butt end of my stick and lifts it level to the table. “Bring your other hand towards the base, near where the color of the stick starts to change.”
He slowly covers my hand with his when I comply.
“Then,” he says, his hot breath warming my cheek, which I can tell is flaming bright red. “Look down the length of your cue and line up your shot. Keep your grip on the forward end of the stick loose between your fingers. Loose enough the stick can just slide right through.”
I gulp again. This is starting to feel a lot less like a lesson on the game of pool.
“Pull the stick back.” He grabs my back hand to pull the stick back with his words. “And now…” With his grip on my hand, my grip on the stick, he thrusts the stick forward to hit the cue ball. “You slam it home.”
He keeps me still, his body flush against mine as we watch the cue ball break apart the rest of the balls. They scatter in all directions.
“See,” he says as he pulls away from me. “That was the perfect break.”
My mouth is dry. My body is hot all over. And my dick is getting hard in my shorts. This is the best pool lesson ever. “It’s only because you helped.”
With his gaze locked on mine, a sultry grin tugging at his lips, he says, “And a ball went in. Which means it’s still your turn. Do you want assistance with your next shot?”
“No.” Yes. “I think I can manage.”
He drops his gaze, then looks back up at me, smirking. “We’ll see about that.”
“Dick,” I say as I give him the jerk-off motion with my hand.
“Oh, you wish,” he says. “You definitely wish.”
I absolutely do wish. There’s no use in denying that. But… I drop my gaze and look down at his crotch, not even bothering to hide that I’m leering. He also has a noticeable bulge rounding the front of his designer gray sweatpants.
When I flick my gaze back up to meet his, he shrugs. “Hit the ball, Baby.”
I walk around the table to line up the shot I want to take.
It should be easy. One of my balls is perched right on the edge of a corner pocket.
Holding my stick, I slowly bend forward, doing my best to give him a view of my backside.
Then, I follow his directions from my last shot.
I keep my grip loose on the stick, then let it rip, sending the cue stick forward to hit the ball. I completely whiff it once again.
“Smooth,” Ryan says. He doesn’t even wait for me to stand up before he wraps his stick around his body and takes a shot from behind his back with his ass perched on the side of the table. His ball drops right into the intended pocket.
I groan in frustration. “How are you so good at this?”
“Me?”
“No, asshole. One of the other people playing pool in this room right now.”
He leans over the table and takes his next shot. He barely even looks at the balls. Instead, he keeps his eyes on me as he makes the shot blind. “We had a table in our game room growing up.”
Rich-kid shit. I should have guessed.
I roll my eyes while I watch him take his next shot. “Was it next to your bowling alley?”
“No. That was above the garage.”
“I was joking,” I say, aghast.
He smiles at me, and with a little laugh in his voice, he says, “So was I.”
“Thank God.” I let out a sigh of relief.
“It was actually next to the pool table.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I laugh. Though I think he might actually be telling the truth. I mean, one of the few things I know about his family is that he grew up rich. But since he hardly ever talks about his life in Dallas, I didn’t realize it was that kind of rich.
He shrugs, then takes his next shot. This one blissfully misses.
“Finally,” I say, and walk around the table, looking for the perfect shot for me to take.
He taps the table next to his hip.
I look to see what he sees. He’s right. If I come over there, a soft tap of the cue ball into my ball will make it fall into the side pocket. But also, if I go over there, I’m pretty much guaranteeing he’s going to lean over me again to help me take my shot.
So, yeah. I practically sprint to the other side of the table.
“Look who’s eager,” he says.
“I am not!”
He crowds my space and puts me into position. “I was talking about taking your shot.” His breath is tickling the skin behind my ear. “If you’re too eager, you’ll blow it.”
Understatement of the year.
“Nice and easy,” he says, pulling my hand, which is holding the cue stick slightly back. “All you want is just the tip.”
“Oh, come on!” I laugh and drop my head down onto the table. Which, of course, makes my stick knock the cue ball to the other end of the table.
He lets go of me and walks away laughing.
“Asshole!” I say to him again.
He lines up his next shot. “It’s not nice to call your teacher names, Brandon. Don’t make me punish you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Believe me. This is punishment enough. I’m dying over here!”
“You’re losing, not dying. Don’t be dramatic.”
Through gritted teeth, I say, “I wasn’t talking about the game.”
He flicks his eyes to my crotch, then much to my enjoyment, he misses his shot.
Standing up straight, he directs me to come to him. “Alright. One more lesson,” he says. “Then you’re on your own.”
I bring a hand to my chest. “How magnanimous of you.”
His lopsided grin comes back. “Nice word, college boy. Did it take you four years to learn that?”
“No,” I say as I saunter over, holding my chin high. “In case you forgot, I didn’t graduate. I got this smart all on my own.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs, but there’s warmth in it. He guides me to stand in front of him again, then same as he’s done before, he leans into my space and uses his hands and his body to place me in the position he wants me in.
I swallow thickly when I feel his undeniably hard dick press against my hip. Not that he was hiding it. We both lost that battle a while ago.
“Now.” This time, I can feel his lips move, brushing the sensitive skin of my ear. “Keep your hands on the stick and let me guide us home.”
As always, I’m all too willing to be led anywhere he wants to take me.
When I feel his hands grab onto mine, I close my eyes and let him use my body as an extension of his to take the shot.
“On the count of three,” he says, his voice rumbling through me. He draws the cue stick back, then slowly slides it back and forth between our extended fingers as he counts. “One… two… three.”
I don’t open my eyes to see if the shot is any good. Instead, when I hear the cue ball crash into the other, I turn around in his hold and press my lips against his, kissing him senseless.
Ryan
Well, well, well. I was wondering when he was going to break.
With our lips attached I press his backside against the table, then grab his ass with my hands and lift him to sit on the edge.
His legs open, allowing me to step between them while his arms wrap around my shoulders.
It’s glorious. And also stupid. We’re in our captain’s house.
But also, I don’t know if I care. Lately, I’ve been beginning to understand why Kennedy laid one on Marshal after they won that game against Canada for everyone to see.
At the time, all I could think was that he was an idiot. An absolute moron. But now, after finding my own person, I envy his bravery.
I start laughing.
“Okay. I’m not that bad of a kisser,” Brandon says.
I shake my head, brushing our noses together. “I’m not laughing at that.”
He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me.
I give him a quick kiss. “I’m such an idiot,” I say, then kiss him again.
“That was never up for debate.”
“No, I suppose it wasn’t.” I laugh again. “I’m having a revelation here. When I saw Kennedy kiss Marshal on live TV, all I could think was, holy shit. Connor Kennedy is a moron.”
Brandon drops his head back and laughs. “That is the opposite of what I thought.”
“What? Did you think he was a genius?”
“No.” Brandon laughs again and looks at me smirking. “I was thinking Gavin’s dick game must be incredible for Connor to throw away his career over it.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “That is not what you thought.”
“It’s not not what I thought.” He shrugs. “Mostly I saw them kiss, and I felt excited, until Gavin was disappeared and the weight of it all came crashing down.”
I use my hands to tuck his unruly hair behind his ears. It’s soft under my fingertips.
He tilts his head, leaning into my touch. “Do you think there’s ever going to be a world where something like this is, I don’t want to say normal because that’s not what I mean, but—”
“Not noteworthy?” I say, voicing what I’ve always wished for.
“Yeah. That.” He laughs again. “Like why is it a big deal?”
“It isn’t,” I say, then kiss him again because I can’t resist as I’m overcome with affection for him.
It feels so good to finally have someone to talk to about this.
“Sometimes I don’t know what’s worse. The people who hate us for just being what we are, or people who treat us like their virtuous cause.
I know their intentions are good, but all it really does is push me further into the closet because I don’t want to feel like a zoo attraction for them to gush over purely because I’m gay. ”
“Well, and let’s be real, we’re not what they want out of their gay men anyway. Not really.”
“You’re what I want, though,” I say, holding his gaze.
Brandon is everything I’ve ever craved in another man.
He’s a hard worker, dedicated, has a wicked sense of humor, and isn’t afraid to be quietly vulnerable.
He brings out the best in me on and off the ice.
Not to mention the fact that he’s a bricked-up athlete with a body I want to lick up and down, and a face I can’t get enough of.
I grab his hand and pull him off the table then lead him towards his room. I’m craving closeness to him, and it’s not just because I’m horny as all get out.
“What are you doing?” Brandon laughs when I pull him down onto his bed to lie with me, and immediately tangle him in my arms and legs.
“Just taking a minute.” I nuzzle my nose against his neck and close my eyes. Being with him right now, I can’t stop myself. The words tumble out before I can pull them back in. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
He doesn’t respond at first, but with my face so close to his neck, I can hear his heart as it begins to beat faster and feel him swallow against my lips. “You can’t say that to me,” he says. “Unless you mean it.”
I pull far enough away from him so I can look him in the eyes. He looks so conflicted. Like he wants to be happy, but also scared, and like he’s sure that I am fucking with him.
“I mean it,” I say, then reach one hand up to secure a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I don’t know when it happened, but Brandon, I’m in love with you.”
He closes his eyes and lets out the deepest breath. “I love you too,” he says, and it feels like he’s been holding those words in for years.