KNIGHT
Chapter Four
I’m an itchy, sweaty mess with a boner that rivals some of these trees.
It’s busy trying to burst beyond my waistband.
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever been this nervous or this turned on.
I can barely think at all. Sullivan’s face in the dark is all glowing highlights and deep shadows.
His eyes are black and bright gray. His skin looks smoother than anything naturally occurring.
He’s so fucking gorgeous, I don’t know how to say no.
I get the sense this kiss he’s offering doesn’t have much to do with whether or not he finds me attractive.
More to do with the fact that we’re alone in the woods, and he’s got a buzz, and it’s that kind of night.
The kind of night we’ll all remember. Where we made our best friends.
The kind of night some of the guys will tell their kids about.
But this isn’t where I thought mine would end up, even if I might have wished hard enough to manifest it.
“Yes,” I whisper. “But only if you want to.”
His sexy lips tilt up in half a grin. He takes a step closer, putting us toe to toe. If I didn’t have such big feet, my erection would be jamming him in the abs. I back myself up against a tree trunk, and he follows, his hand still holding mine. “I do,” he says. “I like you, Knight.”
“Thanks.”
“You seem kind. Are you?”
“I think so. I like to think so.”
“Not exactly on brand for a star quarterback.”
“There’s a lot about me that’s not on brand for that,” I admit.
He smiles that little smile at me again, and my insides start melting down. I’m glad the tree is here to hold me up with my weak knees and numb feet. The only thing I can feel with any reliability is my pounding heart and my throbbing dick.
And Sullivan’s hand, squeezing mine now before he lets it go to place it in the center of my chest. “Jesus, is that your heart?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“I’ve never done this before,” I blurt.
“What? Been kissed?”
“Not by a guy.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t have all that much experience either, if that helps.”
There’s so much Sullivan doesn’t say, and with everything else this night has brought, that’s one of the things driving me the craziest. All these questions for him that I still crave answers to.
But everything stops when his lips meet mine.
A pathetic whimper escapes me, and I have to fist my hands to keep myself from grabbing him.
It’s a light, soft kiss, and I think that might be all I get because he goes very still for a long moment afterward.
But then he steps into me, his thighs touching mine, and his lower abs colliding with my erection.
His mouth opens slightly, tugging my lower lip between his. “Are you gonna kiss me back?”
“I want to,” I whisper while I glance around again to make sure we’re still alone out here.
“No one’s gonna see.” His hand on my chest slides up to my shoulder. His lips kiss the corner of my mouth.
Hesitantly, I put a hand on his waist, resting it there.
The fact that there’s no curve, only a straight line to his hip bone makes me dizzy with want.
I’ve tried not to be this—this thing I’ve always known I am.
It’s not like there’s any shortage of reading online I’ve done about how to change these thoughts, these desires.
I’ve kissed girls, but I’ve never managed to take it any farther than that.
Each of those kisses was a desperate attempt to stop wanting to touch a man like this.
Women are beautiful, and I totally get why most guys want them.
They’re flattering and sweet. They look at me like I’m a prince or king, boosting my ego and telling me nearly everything I want to hear.
But I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them.
I want this. Sullivan’s lips opening my mouth slowly with an invitation to touch my tongue to his.
The tips brush, and I moan softly again.
It’s a quiet exploration of a kiss before his lips seal themselves to mine, and our tongues gently lick and stroke. It’s slow and wet. Hot and shaky.
He does all the things. All the things I had to do whenever I kissed a girl.
He’s the one moving his mouth, moving closer.
He’s the one cupping my jaw and running a hand up and down my side.
I’m the one desperate for every flex of his hips, trying not to groan, grunt, and fucking come.
Because goddamnit, I could totally come just from this.
As we make out, softly, gently, his hand moves between us, then lands on my crotch. I choke on a gasp, my hand immediately locking around his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?”
Fuck him and these questions without answers. I try to kiss him again, but he barely lets me before his mouth meets my neck.
I shudder, letting go of his wrist. He opens my jeans with one hand. The sudden lack of pressure on my cock is acutely uncomfortable.
“Do you want me to suck you?”
Holy shit.
“If you say no, I’ll think you’re lying.”
“Do you want to?”
“I do,” he says.
He sounds compelling enough. “I won’t last.”
“I think it’s probably better that way. I’ll feel like I’m good at it if it’s over quick.”
I would laugh if I could, but I want what he’s offering too much to find any humor inside this thick fog of lust.
He’s on his knees before I can think of anything to say that might talk him out of it.
His hands are inside my pants and boxer shorts, dropping them just enough to reveal my rigid cock.
I dig my nails into the tree trunk as he takes my length in his hand.
I find myself looking up at the sky in a desperate attempt not to come at first contact. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Fuck.”
He makes a short sound that’s almost like a laugh. “You’re fun.”
I respond with something like a whine.
“That’s hot,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over my tip, where I can tell I’m leaking. When he licks at my precum, more pulses out.
“Mm…wow.”
“I think I might come,” I confess. Tears sting my eyes at the humiliation of it all. At how impossibly good this feels and how badly I want it. At how totally fucked I am because this can never be my life.
He grips the base of my cock tightly, choking back the imminent orgasm before sucking me into his mouth.
The tight, wet heat suddenly encasing my shaft is better than anything I’ve ever felt.
The flat of his tongue wraps around the curve and then swirls across the tip.
He sucks me down again with some force and releases his hold on my base.
My orgasm builds like a perfect collision of storms. Lightening cracks up my spine and heat melts my legs. Thunder pounds through my balls, and my cock jerks like the earth just shook beneath us. I grit back the noise climbing out of my chest as I shoot into him, finally looking down at him again.
I find him with his eyes closed, cheeks darkly hollowed out, and a crease of concentration on his brow.
So fucking beautiful. Unable to help it, I touch his hair. It’s a light touch until his hand covers mine, forcing it against his head, into his thick hair.
He’s taking every drop. Even milking me for more, and my dick offers it up blindly.
I don’t know how I’m still standing. I can’t take any more of this. “Hey. Hey.” It’s all I can say until he pulls off and looks up at me.
“Hey,” he says, sounding drunker than he did before.
I slide down the tree trunk. Half my shirt comes up with the motion. Bark scrapes at my skin, but I barely feel it. I sit with him still kneeling between my legs, my hand still in his hair. I use my grip to pull him toward me, to bring our mouths together again.
His kiss is deeper this time, and I taste my cum on his tongue. Fuck, that’s so hot it makes my spent dick hurt.
“I guess I’m probably not straight, but that’s all I’m willing to commit to tonight,” he eventually says.
“Thanks for letting me help you figure that out.”
“Thanks for letting me do that.”
I half-laugh, and then something less like regret and more like terror gnaws at my awareness.
God, it’s the worst fucking feeling. He’s so perfect and beautiful, and I should be on top of the goddamn world, but this is where I have to say something along the lines of no one can ever know about this.
Ever. And I hate myself for it even though the words still haven’t left my mouth.
The thought itself is awful enough. I would say it’s unfair, except I chose this.
And I have to keep choosing it. My secrets and even my lies.
But before I do that, I drop my gaze to the bulge in his pants. “Can I…?”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t. It’s like—I don’t know if I want to explain it, but I’m good.”
“Okay,” I say, unsure how I’m supposed to feel about that. It doesn’t hurt so much as it’s confusing. But a lot of things about Sullivan are confusing.
He settles into a cross-legged position between my bent knees. “What do you think about this night?”
I stare at his mouth with its dark, swollen lips and the way they move when he speaks. “I wasn’t so sure about UNO, but since I won, I can’t really complain.”
“I didn’t understand the air fryer.”
I laugh softly. “I have to trust Gabe knows more about dorm life than I do.”
“Gabe seems extremely into dorm life.” He rests his elbows on my knees. “Are you looking forward to this year?”
It’s the kind of question people were asking around the bonfire. I wonder if we should go back. Five more minutes will likely go unnoticed, though. We’re in a bubble right now, and the second we move, it bursts. My life will be consumed by football, and his—I still don’t know anything about him.
“Why music?” I ask instead of answering his question.
This time he answers without argument. “It’s what I’m good at.”
“What part of music are you good at?”
“All of it.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning it makes sense to me. I found a shitty working violin in an antique store when I was seven and convinced my mom to get it for me. She couldn’t afford lessons, so I taught myself how to play it.”
“That’s cool.”
“It took three days,” he says.
“What did?”
“Learning the violin. But I didn’t know how to read music at the time, so I was just playing along with songs on the classical station.”
“Damn. I bet your mom found a way to get you lessons then, huh?”
“No. She was pregnant, and my dad was… He was going through a lot of shit, so no lessons. I watched a lot of YouTube. Finally saw a score for one of the songs I liked, and it all clicked.”
“Wait.” I back up from him slightly. “Are you like—a prodigy?”
“I don’t know if I’d say that. Music just makes sense to me.”
“So…yes.”
He shrugs. “I assume football makes sense to you.”
“Lots of things make sense to me, but I didn’t learn how to run a play in three days. Or teach myself anything.”
“It’s just a thing I know how to do,” he says.
“So, what do you want to do with that?” I ask.
“I like making the music. Playing it feels good, and it’s something I definitely enjoy, especially violin, but finding new ways to put the notes together and play with cadences and other instrumentation…that’s what I came here to study.”
“Okay, Mozart.”
He smiles. “I’m not Mozart.”
“That’s really cool.”
“We’ll see. Composing isn’t exactly an easy field to get into. It’s a lot about who you know. Luck.”
“And talent,” I add.
“We’ll see if I actually have any. We should get back.”
I nod, knowing he’s right but wishing this part of the night could go on forever.
It’s not like I think Sullivan is the love of my life or anything, but he is the first person who’s seen a part of me I’ve had to hide since I realized I was gay as a kid—around the same time he found his violin.
I’m not sure why I decided to share that secret with him, but I’m glad I did.
“Yeah,” I say, and it comes out as a whisper.
“I won’t say anything,” he tells me before I have to make my little speech.
I nod. “Thanks. Obviously, I won’t either.”
“Good.”
“Good?” I ask.
“I just mean, I don’t want a reputation from day one that I’ll blow a closeted football player in the woods, you know?”
I stare at him, mystified.
“I’m still figuring things out.”
“Yeah. No. I get it.”
He holds out his hand like he wants me to shake it. “Friends?”
I hesitate, unsure if I want to commit to that. But I‘d be an asshole not to, so I finally shake on it. “Friends.”
Overall, it’s a perfect night, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. Not the endless rounds of UNO or the creepy tunnel. Not the splinter I get carrying the wood back to the campfire or the jokes Sullivan and I laugh off for coming out of the woods together.
Even the next morning, when I’m slightly hungover and much too exhausted to run drills with any skill or grace, I wouldn’t change anything.
Knowing where the guys I’m playing with come from and what their dreams and fears are bonds us as a team from day one. Next year, when it’s our turn, we’ll be unstoppable.