10. Vincent
VINCENT
ONE MONTH LATER
Another publicity stunt. Another scheduled date to showcase our relationship to the masses.
I honestly don’t think anyone would care or notice if they didn’t see us in the media until next season, but Tate is convinced that we need to go out regularly to keep up appearances.
Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that I dragged him into all of this mess, I probably would have pushed against him harder, but this is him trying to save face and keep his reputation intact, and I can’t blame him for that.
Especially not when this is all my fault.
We’ve even been photographed doing normal things like jogging around town or getting groceries, which sparked a whole tabloid about how we must be enjoying our freedom and ability to be together in public now that the world knows about us.
At Tate’s insistence, we have been on a few ‘dates’ now, and as much as they have been publicity stunts, they have still ended up being things that are very Tate and me.
We went to a basketball game together, mini golf, endless coffee outings, and even the latest released superhero movie.
Mind you, there wasn’t any paparazzi for that one, but it was nice to just get out and spend time with him.
To watch a movie together, as friends sometimes do.
I didn’t think about how much tension there could be between us until the cinema went dark.
The last month he has been here. Living here with me.
Spending the night either on the couch or in the spare bedroom next to mine.
I’d asked him once why he didn’t go home, and even though he gave me a reason, and I let him stay—I don’t get it.
I truly do not understand why he hasn’t just gone home, why he won’t leave me here.
When all this started over a month ago, he’d told me he couldn’t go home because he didn’t want to lie to his dad.
Am I really to believe that is still the reason?
That Tate Stone, the sweet boy that he is and with the relationship that he has with his dad, still hasn’t spoken to him?
Guilt about this situation hits me again, like the punch in the gut it always is.
Not only was my spontaneous declaration of feelings unwanted, but the consequences of it are also long standing.
I wish I could say that living with Tate, and all the fooling around that we have done, dwindled my feelings—that I could say they fizzled under the reality of life with him, and it no longer just being a fantasy of mine.
But that didn’t happen.
If anything, being domestic with him has made my feelings stronger.
Having the ability to touch him, taste him, wring pleasure out of him, has only intensified my desire for him.
I tried to keep my distance in the beginning, knowing that this was fake and that it wouldn’t be for long.
I thought if I kept my heart out of it, when this ended it wouldn’t break me.
But as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop my heart from falling more in love with Tate.
All I can do now is just enough what time I have left with him, before it’s over.
Accepting that when he leaves me, that I will not be able to prevent myself from breaking, and knowing that I will never be able to recover from the feeling that I have for Tate.
Today’s publicity date is dinner at the newest restaurant in town.
While we have been going out more often, this date was planned by the management team.
Well, they told us that we need to be more present in the eye of the public.
They don’t even know that the relationship isn’t real, and they are still making us do PR stunts.
The marketing team said that they need more positive media out there to show how supportive the team is of our relationship, especially with training returning in a few weeks.
I don't know if I'm ready for training to come back, to get back to work, and get back into that headspace of assistant coach and rookie player.
But I guess he won't be a rookie anymore. He'll be in his second season. Even though he's not on my line, I've been studying him for so long. Helping guide him and check in with him for so long, that I don't know how I can go back to that without having my role revolve around him.
We were told that tonight we need to dress up and put on our best display of love and affection, and fuck, I don’t know if I am ready for it.
I walk upstairs to my room, knowing that I need to get ready for this date sooner rather than later.
As much as I want it, I'm dreading it at the same time.
While we've been spending more time together and we've been going out more, those have been low key and are easy to pass off as just some mates hanging out.
This, though, this is quite clearly a date.
And as much as I try to hold myself back and stop myself from wishing, there's still a part of me that I can’t contain.
A part that wants to put my best foot forward, that wants to do everything I can to possibly get him to just consider me that way. Walking into the bathroom, I strip off my casual clothes from the day and step into the shower.
Washing my hair and my body, I tune out the world and get lost in the steam of the shower. Which is probably why I didn't hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. I feel his hands on me. Which jolts me back to the present and realise that he's stepped into the shower with me naked as well.
“What, what are you doing?” I ask, turning around to look at him.
“I thought I'd join you in the shower and save some water,” Tate says, with a flirty look in his piercing blue eyes.
“But why? You have a shower in your bathroom?”
Even with us being sexually intimate with each other, it’s never been like this. We’ve never showered together.
“Um, to save some water to save some time.”
I don't know why he thinks that showering with me would save time when all I want to do is lather him up and lick him clean.
“I don't think we have time for anything.”
“Oh, I think we have time for some things,” Tate says with a smirk.
I’d like to say that I was a stronger man, but he knows all my buttons by now.
I cave the moment his lips touch my shoulder, my neck, and get closer to my mouth.
He whispers in my ear, “You know, I heard this rumour that couples are happier in their sex life if they have sex before they go on dates, rather than when they get home.”
I chuckle at this, trying to find the words to say, we're not a couple, but they don't come, they get stuck in my throat because I don't want to deny that we aren't a couple.
“Is that so?” I ask, finally finding the words to reply to him.
“Yeah, something to do with the energy levels when you get home after a big night.”
“I don't think we have anything to worry about with energy levels. We are both athletes,” I joke. Trying to put him off until later. Needing a bit more space, needing that distance to just separate this date—this fake date—to my emotions.
“I don't know,” he says coyly. “I think it's worth a shot. We can always give it a try, best case, we have another orgasm when we get home too.”
Home.
The word echoes through me as his hands roam my body.
Goosebumps rise on my arms even under the hot water as I sink into his touch.
It’s the first time he has touched me this way.
Confidently. Possessively. Sure, there have been times with his hands in my hair, or cupped my face.
But nothing like this. It’s always been my hands on him, me giving him pleasure and getting myself off at the same time.
His hands trail down my arms, wrapping around my back to pull me closer to him. Our cocks brush against each other, and that's when I realised we're both desperately hard.
“What are you doing?” I ask, feeling like my brain has left my body and I can barely string my thoughts together.
“If you haven’t noticed yet, I am trying to seduce you here, Vince,” Tate says, his eyes a blase with lust.
“You want to touch me?” I gasp.
“Of course I want to touch you,” he pants, his chest heaving. “I want to feel the slide of your cock as you thrust into my mouth, or my hand. I want to know what your cum tastes like. I want to feel how your cock pulses as I bring you over the edge, to know that I did that.”
“Holy. Fuck. Tate.” I pant, my cock as hard as concrete, my hips thrust forward seeking friction. I’m on the verge of cumming from his words alone. “Have you ever heard of frotting?” I ask.
“No, what's that?” He asks, eyes bright with hunger… hunger for me.
I want to laugh, but there’s too much tension in the air. With all of this gay experimenting that he's been doing, he hasn't even looked into gay porn.
“It's kind of like a hand job.” I state. “But it’s a bit different. It’s probably better if I just show you.”
“Oh, okay.”
Lining our cocks up together, I trail my hand down his tight abs and grip us both in one hand. The hot water trailing over us, keeping us warm.
We groan together as my hand flexes around our cocks.
His hands are tight on my hips, holding us together, his head falls to my shoulder, watching our cocks roll together between us.
“Now you fuck my hand,” I breathe into his ear.
“No,” Tate moans, pulling back to meet my eyes. “I want to do it. I want to be the one holding our cocks together.”
I bite my bottom lip at his words, giving our cocks a final squeeze together before letting us go.
“Go ahead then,” I say, moving my hands to his waist as we swap positions.
I shiver as his hand tightens around my cock.
“Yeah, like this,” I say as I start thrusting against him and his hand.
The groan he releases is so loud. It echoes around the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.