45. Changing of the Guard
45
CHANGING OF THE GUARD
Beck
Once I’m dressed and ready for practice, I scan the locker room one more time, judging the mood, and noting the attendance. Most of the team is here. They seem chill. No red flags. Carter’s by my side, playing wingman.
I take a few more seconds to catalog my feelings. Nerves? Check. Certainty? Check. I’m calm enough.
“I’m ready,” I say to Carter.
My buddy cups his hands to his mouth in a makeshift megaphone. “Listen up, men. We got news.”
The floor is mine, and I take it, talking to the guys like I would if I were changing a play in the huddle. All business—no bullshit. “I’m dating Jason McKay. I have been all season. We’re together for real. Any questions?”
Stunned silence spreads to every corner of the locker room. For two, three, four seconds. Then, Hayden shifts his weight. “Let me see if I got this right. You took us to a thirteen-three record and pulled off a secret affair?”
“Yes,” I say, braced for wherever he’s going.
“Damn,” he says in admiration as he reaches for his practice jersey in his stall.
Isaiah finishes tying up his uniform pants. “I want that kind of magic. I can barely balance dating and playing. This lady I was seeing wanted me to come over on a Thursday night last month, and I conked out after practice. Woke up the next morning to a mean message from her about my no-show ass.”
I chuckle at their stories, light-headed with relief at how simple that was after I’d prepped for the worst. I just hope Jason has it this easy in his locker room.
“More power to you, bro,” Miles, the center, says, then fist bumps me. “Just keep racking up those W’s, and we’re all good.”
I never thought they would take the news this well. But then, my team has taken everything well. They were chill after the losses. They were happy after the wins. They’re good guys, plain and simple.
We finish gearing up, and I trot out to the field to practice for a game.
That evening, I park on the street at Jason’s house. I walk through the small front yard. I head up the steps and ring the bell.
It’s a brand-new day.
When Jason swings open the door, he shoots me a curious look. “You do have the garage code and app.”
I shut him up with a kiss.
He sighs happily as I kiss him on the front porch, in public, unashamed.
My boyfriend wraps his arms around my waist, hauls me closer, and kisses me like I’m what he’s needed most all day. I can feel it in his touch, in the possessive way he brushes his lips to mine, then digs his fingers into my back.
He needs me.
I need him.
We are so right for each other.
We kiss for another minute on his porch.
He’s wanted this kiss for so long. In the light, out on the street, for anyone to see. He is a social guy. He is a public figure. He relishes that.
I’m not that way, but I can give him these moments.
When he breaks the kiss, he jerks his gaze to his home. “We better take this inside.”
Ten minutes later, we’re side to side, panting and fucking each other’s faces.
I draw him deeper, squeezing his ass as I work his dick over with my lips and tongue. He’s giving me the same treatment, going to town on my cock, like he’s missed my dick fiercely.
Know the feeling, Jason .
I’ve missed him so much. I’ve missed everything about him. The guttural groans he makes as he sucks me. The tremble of his thighs as he gets closer to the edge.
Most of all, this incredible intimacy. This trust. This bed full of sex and love and fire.
When his cock pulses in my throat, he lets my dick fall from his lips. He comes first, with a loud and glorious grunt that makes my cells sizzle.
My orgasm is so blazingly near. I can feel it building strength in my spine.
Jason scrambles to his knees, pushes me down on my back, and slides between my legs to finish the job he started. I come hard as the bliss of being with him again washes over me.
He pops off and lies next to me with a satisfied sigh. I exhale too.
He runs a finger down my sky and mountains. “You still like my Alaskan King?”
“I love it. Especially when I can finally make you come first.”
Jason laughs, then drops a kiss to the ink on my arm. “Feel free to keep making up for that first time for all time.”
That sounds good to me. “I will.”
Later, after we’ve dressed and moved to his kitchen, debating whether to order or make dinner, Jason’s phone pings with a text.
He grabs it from the counter, reads it, then grimaces. “It’s Xavier. He wants to stop by.”
“You don’t want him to?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just want to be with you,” he says, but I can understand his hesitation since he’s told me what went down today.
“Same, but maybe you should hear him out?” I suggest.
“Ugh,” he groans, dropping his head like he just can’t deal.
I wrap an arm around his waist. “I can go upstairs. Or I can be with you if you want.”
He turns into my touch, looping his arms around my waist. “Now that I got you all locked up, I want you with me. You know that, right?”
My heart glows. “I do.”
He nuzzles my neck, then bites my ear. “Fuck, I’m getting horny again.”
I slug his arm. “You’re always horny!”
“That’s true.”
“But you can’t be horny if he’s coming over, so let’s order food and watch a show.”
“Watching a show with you makes me horny,” he says, shameless about his sex drive.
“Then I’m making dinner, since you only behave while I’m cooking.”
“That’s debatable.”
While he replies to Xavier, I gather the ingredients to whip up a quick veggie and tofu stir-fry.
Thirty minutes later, the meal’s ready, but before we can sit down to eat, the doorbell rings, so I set everything on simmer.
Jason lets in his teammate. I meet them in the living room, giving a chin nod and a brief wave.
“Hey, man,” Xavier says to me.
“Hey.”
“Let’s talk,” Jason says, but he’s on his guard even as he gestures to the couch.
Xavier sits on one side, and Jason and I on the other.
The guest wastes no time. “Listen, I wanted to explain myself. I might have come across like a homophobic jackass,” he says to Jason.
Jason doesn’t acknowledge the comment, but there’s a bit of if the shoe fits in his shrug.
“I come from a different world than you. I’ve been in the league for fourteen years, and times are different now, but when I started, man...” Xavier blows out a weighty breath, but Jason waits for him to go on.
“The world was not this world. Guys didn’t come out. I had a friend on my first team who was in the closet the whole time,” Xavier says, shaking his head in visible regret. “We went to bars together, and he went home with dudes. I kept his secret, but he was terrified of the backlash if anyone found out. He was sure the team would cut him, the fans would slash his tires, harass his mother. Anything.”
“That sucks,” Jason says.
“He retired eight years ago, and he only just came out earlier this year.” Xavier looks from Jason to me. “But guys like you are making changes. And guys like me—straight dudes who sometimes don’t have a fucking clue but want to do the right thing,” he says, then stops, struggling to find the words. “You hear me?”
Jason studies Xavier’s face. “I’m not sure I do, Xavier. But I want to.”
I might know what Xavier’s problem is. It’s something I struggle with at times. I don’t always talk in a straight line either. “You’re saying you worry about us because you’ve seen the flip side. And you know, too, that people are going to be assholes, so you want to keep your ear to the ground for us,” I supply.
Xavier thrusts his arms high. “Yes! Thank you for translating X-Man speak.” He turns back to Jason. “I’ve seen the way it was, and I know there are also guys like Coach, who are just pricks, plain and simple. I played for him back in Miami when he was an offensive coordinator, and I saw that ice in his eyes, you know?”
“Know that well,” Jason says, warming up to Xavier. He’s leaning closer, and his voice is less distant.
“And I pay attention to what people say on social media. Most are chill, but some are flaming turds. And at the end of the day, most fans just care about winning. But I want you to know where I’m coming from. I’ve seen some of the shittier days, and here we are in better days.” He takes a beat and locks eyes with Jason with ferocity in his dark gaze. “But I’m your teammate, and I’ll be here for you.”
Jason smiles and offers a hand. “We’re all good, X-Man. Thanks for coming by.”
Xavier leans forward to shake with him, then relaxes against the couch and stretches his arms across the back. I struggle not to smile at Jason’s expression as his teammate ignores the hint to leave, manspreads over the sofa, and sniffs the air. “Something smells good.”
“I made dinner.” Damn, that feels good to say. Yes, I made dinner for my boyfriend at his house.
Xavier hums. “Something smells real good.”
Jason cracks up. “You can stay for dinner, X-Man.”
The cornerback pops up. “Thanks for the invite, bro.”
We head to the kitchen and eat, the old guard and the new.