Chapter 18 The Confession Game
The Confession Game
It was quiet on the bus as they drove back to the hotel. They played a grueling game against Buffalo and lost by three points. And everyone in the league would consider a loss to Buffalo a massive embarrassment.
A few of the guys on the team spoke softly on the phone with their loved ones, while others dozed off.
Taylor wore his headphones, probably listening to whatever weird meditation thing he really liked.
Fletcher thought it was like a placebo effect or something.
He tried it out a few times and it somehow made him feel even less relaxed.
Fletcher felt like a zombie as he and Taylor made their way back up to their room, suddenly wishing he hadn’t woken up early that morning to go for a run. Neither of them exchanged a word as they slipped off their shoes.
Fletcher somehow managed to lose his balance as he bent down to untie his shoelaces.
Taylor quickly reached out to steady him.
“Careful,” Taylor said softly. He gripped Fletcher’s arm as Fletcher finally found his balance and leaned back up.
He locked eyes with Taylor, and Taylor didn’t immediately let go of him.
A sea of nerves ran through his entire body when he read the look in Taylor’s eyes.
Like there was a hint of longing. Fletcher swallowed.
They held each other’s gaze for a few more beats before Taylor abruptly cleared his throat and let go of Fletcher’s arm. Taylor silently walked over to his bed near the window and sat on the edge to look out.
Fletcher quietly grabbed a shirt and some sweats to change into before heading to the bathroom.
His mind went back to the night in Boston.
He left the door open on purpose, hoping Taylor would open it up and walk in on him.
The way Taylor watched him in awe as Fletcher jerked himself off would permanently be ingrained into his mind.
Fletcher swore to himself as his cock twitched in excitement at the thought of Taylor. He couldn’t help himself as he reached down to cup himself through the thick fabric material of his sweats as he tried to tell his cock to calm down. This shouldn’t be happening.
Somehow even thought of Taylor had become synonymous with the pinnacle of attractiveness as Fletcher continued to grow hard.
Fletcher groaned as he left the bathroom and slumped down onto the middle of his bed.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked as he turned to look at him.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Fletcher said plainly.
A heavy silence lingered through the room for a few minutes. Fletcher looked up at the ceiling, trying not to entertain the thoughts that slowly crept into his mind. He could hear the sound of rustling coming from Taylor’s side of the room, like he was laying down and decided to sit back up.
“Can I tell you something?” Taylor asked, sounding hesitant.
“Yeah, sure,” Fletcher answered, sounding guarded. Wild thoughts came barreling into his mind.
This was it, Fletcher thought. He was going to tell him that they couldn’t be friends anymore. That he couldn’t pretend anymore. That everything was screwed up with no going back. Fletcher was going to lose his best friend and mess things up with their team and it was all his fucking fault.
Taylor took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose.
“I don’t think we should see each other this summer.
When the season ends.” Taylor confessed.
Fletcher closed his eyes in fear that he would cry right there in front of him.
A screw-up. A disappointment. Belittling thoughts replayed in the back of his mind.
He couldn’t get his dad’s voice out of his head.
Maybe he was right. Fletcher had created a mess.
“Why not?” Fletcher choked out, trying to conceal how upset he was. Taylor probably saw right through him. His heart clenched.
He heard Taylor shift around on his bed again. Taylor walked over and sat on the edge of Fletcher’s bed, painfully similar to the way he did in Florida.
Taylor sat nervously with his hands fidgeting in his lap. He looked at Fletcher and frowned.
He couldn’t do this. He was such a fucking screw up.
He messed up a perfectly good professional, working relationship because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
A fucking screw-up. He was going to have to beg management to trade him somewhere else.
Anywhere else. Maybe even Florida. Because he couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t dare to see Taylor look at him the way he was doing now. Looking at him with pity.
“I don’t think I can forget what happened,” Taylor told him. Twisting the fucking knife.
Neither could he, but at least he was pretending nothing was wrong.
Fletcher just nodded at him before turning his head away, but Taylor reached over and placed his hand on his knee. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He couldn’t do this. Taylor touching him just made things worse. His body was betraying him.
Fletcher couldn’t stop the tear that had fallen down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. “It’s fine. I understand,” he said, not fully sounding like himself. He tried to be cool about it.
“Fletcher,” Taylor whispered. His thumb caressed him on his knee. When Fletcher didn’t move his head, Taylor whispered again. “Look at me,” he let out hoarsely.
Fletcher quickly sat up and swung his legs over the opposite end of his bed. He sat with his back to Taylor. “It’s fine, Taylor. I screwed it all up. It’s my fault.”
“No,” Taylor quickly bit out. He turned and reached over to put a hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you on the plane or cornered you in the bathroom. I made a mistake,” he took a deep, pained breath. “I don’t think I can control myself around you.”
Fletcher didn’t say anything. He put his head down and squeezed his eyes shut as more tears fell. Taylor’s hand traveled from Fletcher’s shoulder to the back of his neck. He ran his fingers through Fletcher’s hair, giving Fletcher extremely mixed signals.
“Touching me like that doesn’t really help,” Fletcher finally said softly after a minute had gone by.
Taylor didn’t stop. His fingers brushed up and down the skin of Fletcher’s neck.
They moved towards the side of his face and brushed over his cheek, sending chills down Fletcher’s spine.
Fletcher let out a sigh of relief as he leaned into it.
Nuzzling into Taylor, cupping Fletcher’s cheek.
He wiped away another tear that had fallen with his thumb as Fletcher sniffled.
Weak. Fletcher was weak. He couldn’t do this.
“Look at me,” Taylor asked again. He pleaded. His voice broke.
Fletcher gulped, lifting his head to look at Taylor.
He looked just as upset as Fletcher was. Maybe even worse. His glossy eyes flickered to Fletcher’s lips as he brushed his thumb over them. Slowly, testing the waters. Fletcher’s chest rose and fell as his heart squeezed.
Taylor’s hand reached over to cup Fletcher’s jaw, forcing Fletcher to meet his gaze.
Fletcher didn’t know what came over him. He parted his lips and slowly took Taylor’s thumb into his mouth. Taylor’s gaze turned primal as he watched Fletcher suck on his thumb. Like he had been waiting for this to happen.
“Fuck, Fletcher,” he breathed out in shock and maybe awe. He inserted the thumb deeper into Fletcher’s mouth and let out a soft grunt as Fletcher swirled his tongue over the pad of his thumb pad.
Fletcher looked at him with desire in his eyes, holding Taylor’s wrist.
“You like that?” Taylor asked him with an edge of curiosity in his tone.
Fletcher responded by lightly grazing Taylor’s thumb with his teeth. Taylor’s jaw ticked as he let out another grunt, slightly less soft than the first. Taylor wrapped his arm around Fletcher as he straddled Taylor’s lap.
He pushed his erection up against Taylor’s stomach.
Taylor removed his thumb from Fletcher’s mouth and connected their mouths in a slow, tender kiss.
It quickly escalated into something more panicked as Taylor reached down and tugged Fletcher’s pants low enough to free his aching cock.
Fletcher tugged at the collar of Taylor’s shirt and Taylor quickly lifted his arms so Fletcher could take the shirt off.
He reached down to take his off next and Taylor’s hands slid up and down Fletcher’s bare chest. Fletcher shifted a bit so Taylor could free his own cock before gripping them both in his strong hand.
“Fuck, Taylor. Holy shit,” Fletcher grunted.
He wrapped his arms around Taylor’s neck and pulled Taylor’s head to his chest. He reached for Taylor’s hand and brought it to his mouth so he could spit in it.
Taylor spread the saliva up and down their touching cocks and gripped them again.
Fletcher moved his hips and thrusted himself in Taylor’s hands, groaning at the friction it made as his cock slid over Taylor’s.
“Keep moving like that,” Taylor instructed. The arm that had been wrapped around Fletcher slowly loosened its grip on him as his hand moved up and down the muscles of Fletcher’s back. Taylor slowly slid his hand down south before he briefly swiped a finger over Fletcher’s hole.
Taylor brought his hand back up to his mouth and spit in his hand before returning to Fletcher’s ass. He spread his saliva over Fletcher’s rim as he continued to pump the both of them in his fist. This was…something else. Why the hell was he liking it? He shouldn’t be liking this.
“I’m so fucking close,” Fletcher panted. He clenched as Taylor added a little pressure with a finger. Fletcher suddenly wondered what it would feel like if Taylor had pushed any deeper, but Taylor’s finger never strayed from the surface.
His orgasm quickly built up as Taylor quickened his pace. “Give it to me, Armstrong,” Taylor told him through gritted teeth.