19. Riley
CHAPTER 19
RILEY
Easton family tradition on Christmas Eve is simple: s’mores made in the oven and one present a piece until morning.
Imagine Griffin’s surprise when we finish up and pass a neatly wrapped gift into his hands.
“Wait, you all didn’t …”
I clap him on the back and rub between his shoulder blades. “You didn’t think my parents would let me have company for the holidays without getting you something?”
Griffin’s eyes blaze into mine, and I know without words that he had expectations, just not for something that would be considered family friendly.
“This one is from my Mom.” The package doesn’t say that specifically; it says: Easton Family, but I know the shape and my mother’s scrawl anywhere.
That doesn’t stop the groan that leaves my mouth when he gets it unwrapped and it’s the cover of a book I’ve seen a dozen times on the shelf in Mom’s office. It’s arena-rink blue with an obnoxiously hockey-inspired title.
“I wouldn’t read the inscription until you’re alone. She’s a menace.”
Mom gave me the same gift—albeit a different novel of hers—when I signed my first NAPH contract. She even gifted one to Matty when I brought him home that first Christmas; that’s how I know this is her way of embarrassing me.
Instead of speechless and red-faced like Matty was, Griff’s grin is wide and sincere. He looks genuinely thrilled to have received a book of hockey smut for the holidays.
“I’ll make sure to read it out loud when Riley’s trying to sleep tonight.”
I groan and shove his shoulder, but he only shifts his weight to press his arm to mine. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach over and grab my hand, so I settle mine on his knee and squeeze to distract him.
“ You’re a menace,” I grumble, and he knocks his knee into mine with a chuckle.
“You love it.” The innocent playfulness in his voice hides the true sentiment beneath, and while my family laughs and carries on, I’m laser-focused on everywhere Griff and I touch.
Our shoulders pressed together.
My hand on his knee.
His fingers brushing the short, shaved down strands of hair at the back of my head as he stands to run to the bathroom.
I’m half tempted to follow him just so I can taste his cheeky mouth.
I refrain, because once everyone goes to bed and the house gets quiet, I’m going to make him bite his tongue while I rail him into the mattress.
“Your friend seems right at home here,” Mom says, breaking me out of the naughty fantasy playing out in my head.
“Yeah? Griff’s kind of like a chameleon. He’s used to switching it up and bouncing around; I think he could make himself a home anywhere.”
“I’m glad the two of you hit it off.” Mom stands and brushes a kiss over my forehead, and I squeeze her hand in return. “You’ve seemed lonely the last few years.”
She means since I stopped bringing Matty. Him and my mom were like instant best friends, chatting about books and having secret conversations around every corner. It was nice to see them getting along, that someone special to me could fit so seamlessly into my life.
“Griff’s a great roommate. He’s just usually got his own holiday plans. They fell through this year, and since you all are always so welcoming?—”
Mom laughs and waves her hand in my face, cutting me off.
“It’s nice having adult conversations with someone other than your father,” she says. “It’s a shame you won’t be playing anymore. It’d be nice to see him around more often.”
“You just want new material for your books.”
“You brought a gay player into the home of a queer, sports romance author.”
Parker throws his hands over his ears and starts singing horribly off key, something he does anytime Mom’s books come up.
Not that he—or anyone else in the family—has an issue with Griffin or any player being gay; he just hates thinking about Mom writing it. While he knows the books exist, he is expressly forbidden from reading them. Which works out because Parker has no interest in books or romance.
Which begs the question, why—in thirty-one years—I’ve never told my parents that I’m gay. I knew it pretty early on, and I grew up in a fairly progressive part of the US, but there was always something deep down that made me wary of putting my attraction to words.
Whatever it is, the weight that keeps me just below the surface of making the confession, it’s got me in a chokehold.
I was a sweaty, nervous wreck making the announcement to the team, and I only managed because Griffin took the reins. I couldn’t handle the pressure, but for Griff, it rolled right off his back.
We haven’t talked about whether we’re going to come clean to my family about our relationship or even exactly where our relationship stands. Griff says he wants to be in this, with my doubts and all, but I don’t know if the guilt on my end will subside enough.
We also haven’t cured the reason I left in the first place.
For now, we’re enjoying each other and the holidays, but sooner rather than later, we’ll have to make a decision.
That decision seems to be Griff backing me into the door the second it’s closed and attacking my mouth with his own.
Given the option, he’d probably attack it with something else, but kissing seems to be enough for us given that Griff came in his pants for the second time again this morning during a lazy make-out session.
I haven’t gotten off yet, and the anticipation has my dick getting painfully hard the instant Griff’s hands land on me.
We’ve both been far too repressed, denying ourselves during this stent apart.
“How much of a turn off would it be to tell you your mom writes some hot ass porn?”
I sputter and turn my head away, having to drop my face to his shoulder as laughter rattles mine.
“The biggest.” Even though some of those books were my introduction to the world of gay sex. That and Mom’s browser history.
“I really like your family,” Griff says after a moment of silence. We’re only holding each other now: Griffin’s arms around my back and my head on his shoulder. “It’s hard not to slip up and hold your hand around them. Or talk about the silly things you do that might be a little much for a roommate to know.”
I press my nose into the hollow of his throat and inhale deep. “Mom wouldn’t question it, and unless it has to do with sports, it’s in one ear and out the other for Dad.”
“At least they listen. My dad checked out ages ago. Too busy dating girls younger than me.”
Beneath the teasing tone is the little bit of hurt that’s always lying in wait when he talks about his dad.
“I’m sorry you guys aren’t close,” I say, pecking a trail of light kisses up his neck. “At least you’ve got Cam, right?”
He brushes his smile over my cheek and sighs. “Am I a shitty brother for abandoning her this year? Knowing that Dad’s going to give her hell?”
“Griffin. She’s twenty-one. I’m sure if she was that worried, she’d stay in Knox with her roommates.”
“I know. We just always say we’ll brave the old man together.”
We stand in silence, gentle fingers exploring each other, mouths ghosting available skin and breathing each other in. It’s a peaceful moment, but the tension cording Griffin’s shoulders is wound tight, so I slink my hands under his shirt and knead the muscle.
“Listen. One whole twenty-four hours, and you’ve already got Parker’s heart; you know that right? Pretty sure he wishes you were his big brother instead of me.”
Griffin smiles crookedly, flicking his tongue over his lips like he does when he has something to say but holds it back. I don’t question it, though, just lower my lips to his tantalizing mouth and bring his tongue out for some leisurely fun.
It’s not long before Griff is pulling away with a disappointed groan, his fingers finding my ass and squeezing it in his palms.
“Enough about other people. Tonight should be about us.”
I quirk my brow, and he rolls his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. “What about us, hm?”
He pushes our bodies close, chest to chest, junk to junk, hands trailing up my body on a slow glide until he reaches my neck and anchors down.
“Before you decided to pull a Casper the Disappearing Ghost on me,” he says with a pointed stare, “I’d been planning a gift of my own. Not sure if you deserve it, but it might make you think twice about leaving me again.”
The casual way he jokes about it dries my throat out and has my eyes stinging, but he has every right to deal with what happened in his own way.
“I could beg,” I say softly, nudging his nose with mine. “Could get on my knees and give you a real good apology with my mouth.”
Griff’s eyes widen as does his smile. “Oh yeah? You gonna take me nice and slow? Get me all wet and sloppy until I decide you’ve earned your gift?”
Instead of answering, I slide down carefully to my knees and press my face to the bulge in his sweats. Our eyes lock as I find the damp tip of his dick and flatten my tongue over the spot.
“I don’t want to come again until you’re inside me,” he says, urging me to close my lips around his clothed dick.
A few sucks to thoroughly soak his shorts is all it takes for him to back away and kick them and his boxers off, his thick, red cock standing proud between his legs.
“Also not ruining another pair of those.”
I chuckle and beckon him forward, gripping the backs of his thighs and taking him into my mouth.
He’s hot and solid, wet and begging for my tongue to caress the underside of his shaft.
Griffin cradles my head in his hands, pushing deeper, agonizingly slow until he fills my mouth just shy of my gag reflex.
Deep throating isn’t in the cards for me, but driving Griffin out of his mind is a skill set I’ve masterfully acquired.
He’s on the edge in minutes, pulling out and dragging his spit-slicked dick across my cheek while he catches his breath.
“Stay there and close your eyes,” he rasps, covering my eyes with his hand when I continue to stare.
I chuckle and do as he says, listening to him shuffle around the room, the air mattress groaning beneath his weight.
“Open, D-man.”
Holding back a round of laughter, I open my eyes to see one sexy as hell goalie taking up space at the foot of my makeshift bed exuding a level of confidence I’ve never achieved—all while wearing nothing but a thin strip of lilac material that only just holds his raging erection.
“You liked the last one. Thought maybe we’d try some more.”
His thick, meaty hands dig into his thighs, stroking up and down the toned muscle as he watches me choke on any possible words.
God, I want to fuck him.
And fuck him I do. Fuck him in that tiny scrap of lace, balls bouncing as I pound into him, Griffin’s breathy “ah ah ah” as we try not to be overheard.
Sex is incredible, but it’s folding over him, covering his mouth with mine and swallowing every punched out mewl of ecstasy he can’t contain that does me in.
I’m rough, and it’s quick because I’m pent up. Haven’t gotten off in days, not meaningfully in weeks. I need this orgasm as badly as I need Griffin beneath me every goddamn day.
“Let me have it, baby,” I whisper into his neck as I suck a deep bruise below his ear. “Let me feel how much you missed me.”
The hair trigger Griff can’t seem to shake detonates, and he grabs my face and kisses me like it’ll never happen again. Like it’s never happened before, and he’ll die without it.
He clenches tight around me, and I see the cum dribble down his shaft when I look down, pulsing against the confines of the panties. The sight triggers my own orgasm, and I slam into that pleasure center one more time—making his back bow and his eyes roll—before letting go and filling his ass with cum.
Neither one of us dares move as the high settles, hazel eyes staring into gray, our labored breaths synched, and we come together like sunshine after the rainfall.
I’m the one who stands when Griffin begins to doze off. Who wipes us down and heads quietly to the door to grab a wet rag from the bathroom.
When I swing the door open, standing there with his feet planted, eyes turned down, and a deep red flush going from his ears down his sleep-shirt, is Parker.
Did he hear us?
The way his eyes dart past me to the bed, to the sliver of Griff visible from this angle, and how the scarlet on his cheeks darkens, tells me that’s a resounding yes .
Traumatizing my little brother wasn’t in my plans this holiday season, but seeing his owl-eyed expression on the other side of the door gives it away.
“I wanted to give you a present,” he says, voice thick and small as his eyes dart from me to the naked—but thankfully beneath the sheets—man in my bed.
He’s got a long tube slung over his shoulder that clatters to the floor as his fingers twitch.
I reach down to pick it up, to say something—an apology, and explanation—but his retreating footsteps hurry down the hall before I even make it upright.
With a sigh, I shut the door and carry the tube to the bed, perching on the end and slowly opening it up. It’s the same cloth material we were working on the other day, only rolled and folded to fit inside.
Instead of unraveling it, I squeeze it in my palms and drop my head to rest on my knuckles.
Fuck.
“You should go talk to him.”
Griff’s presence appears at my back, a warm, steady hand providing support.
“My brother just heard us having sex.”
The soft brush of lips meets my shoulder, followed by a breathy chuckle and fingers wrapping around my torso. “Go talk to him.”
“We’re more of a space and tease them in the morning kind of family.” Though, I know I won’t be teasing Parker about this. I’ll be lucky if I can look him in the eyes for as long as I’m staying here.
“Nope.” Griff gives me a squeeze and hops off the bed, locating a pair of shorts from the floor and throwing them on. “C’mon. We’re gonna make him some hot cocoa and a microwave s’more, and you’re going to face this.”
“Do I have to embarrass us further?”
“Yup. Perks of being an older brother.”
And then he’s out the door like it isn’t almost one in the morning.
Ten minutes later with a plate in one hand and a mug in the other, I rap on Parker’s door lightly so as not to jostle the peace offerings. I’ve put on a shirt and some pants, and Griff is already back in the room, so nothing indecent is happening this time.
Right when I start to think he might have fallen asleep, the door creaks open, and there Parker is with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket and a troubled frown. He spots the s’mores and the cocoa, and his eyes light up even if they’re a bit wary.
“Only because chocolate is my comfort food,” he says as he pushes the door the rest of the way open with his foot and reaches for the mug.
I put the plate down on his computer desk and occupy the swivel chair while he climbs crossed legged on his bed noisily sipping from the cup.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Wiping at the foamy, chocolate stash on his upper lip, Parker scoffs. “How dare you be an adult and have sex.” He wrinkles his nose when he says it.
“I should have been more considerate.”
Parker rolls his eyes, but I can tell by the way his shoulders rise that he’s uncomfortable. “It’s fine.”
I take a deep breath, knowing this won’t be any easier to say than the way this conversation is already going.
“Listen, Parker?—”
“Oh god, no.” Parker sets the mug between his legs and throws his hands up. “I don’t need details. If I wanted that, I’d open one of Mom’s books.” He shudders. “You can bone whoever you want.”
I try not to laugh at how grossed out he seems, but a stray one slips out, and he sends me a dirty look.
“Could you do me a favor?” I ask. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
“That you’re hooking up with your teammate?”
“That I’m dating a man.”
Parker’s brows dip down. “Okaaay,” he says slowly, drawing out the word. “You think they’d care?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m kind of … working my way up to telling them myself.”
“Oh, so you’re bribing me to keep my mouth shut?”
A denial hangs on my tongue, but Parker’s wide grin dries it up.
“It’s complicated.”
“Sure it is. I mean, I don’t get why you like sweaty dudes—we’re nasty—but I won’t yuck your yum.”
“Uh uh, nope. You stay away from Mom’s computer.”
Parker bursts out into laughter so hard he has to cover his mouth with his hoodie sleeve.
“Are we good?” I ask once he catches his breath.
“We were never not good. My ears might be majorly violated, but I’ll get over it.”
I stand up and walk over to his bed, ruffling his already messy brown hair until he squawks for me to stop.
“Love you, Parkie. I meant it when I said I wanted to be a better brother.”
“Ew. Then, let me sleep so I can decompress and actually look your friend in the eye tomorrow.”
We both laugh and say our goodnights, and when I sneak back into my bedroom, the lights are out but a bedside lamp is turned on with Griffin sitting up, book in hand.
“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, and he grins.
“We’re so trying some of these positions.”
“Shut the damn book and go to sleep. You can be the big spoon.”
As I climb into bed, Griffin hooks his arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. It’s soft. Slow. We end up naked and whispering each other’s names with our muted releases in a matter of minutes.
Still, he holds me close, exploring my skin with wandering fingers and turning my mouth into a playground for his lips.
We’re hanging on the precipice of doing this or not.
Of where our relationship goes from here.
But for tonight, we hold each other.
We make love again and again.
Because it feels like if we stop, we’ll have to face the dark cloud looming overhead.
Before we get lost in the storm, we need to build our boat.
Together.