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He looks over at me curiously, to which I just shrug. "I texted her and said I was fine. I'd rather be alone than give her an excuse to try to sink her claws into me."
"I thought you rather liked her sinking her claws into you."
"Not exactly," I say pointedly, not wanting to admit that my idea to date around is backfiring. I'm not ready to face the fact that my dick only seems to get excited about him. "I can head back to my dorm today.”
"I'm not implying that you have to leave if you're not ready."
In all honesty, a big part of me doesn't want to leave. I'm curious about what Bryant Nicks is like outside of school and football, but I'm not about to admit it. "I have a tutoring session today at the library," I say.
"I already called the student center. You're excused for today, and you can do the rest of your sessions for this week virtually. I also let your teachers know you might be out this week, but that you'll still be turning in your assignments through the online portal, so make sure you check your email. You should probably still isolate yourself the rest of this week to avoid passing the flu to anyone."
"Aren't you worried you might get sick?" I ask, thanking him as he passes me an omelet. Egg whites only, of course, with spinach and bell peppers.
"Bit late for that now. But I have a strong immune system," he says, and I watch as he mixes some orange powder into two large glasses of water. "Extra vitamin C," he says when he passes me one. "When you're done eating, if you want to grab a shower, I'll get you some clean clothes. I've still got about an hour before I really need to be in my office."
I shove a bite of eggs in my mouth and nod, accepting the dismissal for what it is. I've worn out my welcome, and it's time for me to go home and recuperate on my own.
A few minutes later I follow Nicks down the hall so he can show me where all the extra towels and such are. He walks in to bring me a stack of clothes while I'm getting the temperature of the water right, and I waver a little when I stand up.
"Whoa, you alright?" Coach asks me, steadying me by my shoulders.
The heat of his hands on my bare skin is almost scalding. I'm fine, just stood up too fast, but I seize the opportunity to get closer. I lean into him, and my lips brush lightly against the space where his neck and shoulders meet. He tenses, and I think for a moment that he might push me away, or insist that it's time for me to go home, but he doesn't.
"Still need a bit of help, I guess," he mumbles, and I nod.
It's a lie. I don't, and even he knows it. Yet we both let ourselves believe the lie for long enough to strip out of our clothes. As weak and exhausted as I was feeling before, adrenaline courses through my veins at having him this close. It feels more intimate than the rushed moments in the locker room, or his office, where we are hurried in case we're caught. Somehow, this feels both safer and more illicit. As though by doing this here, we're acknowledging something about ourselves.
Coach holds me beneath my arms and directs us into the spray of the shower. I let him pretend that he is helping me shower, and he washes my hair and guides me beneath the spray. When he begins to lather my body with soap, I decide to do the same to him.
"I already showered," he mumbles, but stops when my soapy hand wraps around his thick cock.
"I think you missed a spot," I whisper, stroking him. His eyes dilate, and the dark ring around his hazel irises grows larger, making his entire gaze darken with lust.
He finally drops the pretense of what he's in here for and captures my mouth, pressing me against the cold tile of the shower wall, and reaching for my erection. Our mouths move passionately against each other, and I grip his hard ass as I pump his cock. He presses his chest against mine and increases the speed of his strokes, squeezing my head. But then he stops and abruptly pulls back, releasing my cock and pulling my hand away from his. He lifts both my arms above my head and pins them there with one hand, before pressing his hips into me and rubbing our erections together. I groan into his mouth and buck my hips forward.
"I really want to bend you over and take that tight ass like I keep promising, but this isn't the right time. Consider this my apology for pushing you too far and not realizing you were sick."
He releases my arms and turns me around slowly, pressing my hands to the wall and then trailing his fingers lightly down my sides. My ass pushes into the hard appendage behind me, taunting, begging for his cock. Instead of getting anywhere near my hole, Nicks rubs his cock through my cheeks and reaches around to grab me. He squeezes and strokes and pumps me into a frenzy, all while thrusting against my ass, sliding his big cock through my wet, soapy cheeks. I let out a choked cry, holding back the climax that threatens.
"Come for me, Jack," Nicks grunts, rubbing against me harder and faster as his strokes match the rhythm of his thrusts, jerking me until I fall back against his chest, shuddering as he aims my release at the shower wall. My back is covered in his hot, sticky cum seconds later.
True dizziness threatens, and I rest on the wall as Nicks cleans us both up. Then he leads me back to the guest room and tucks me in, handing me a glass of water and some painkillers. "Just rest here today. I'll be back later and we can figure out what to do next."
Does he mean my class schedule and tutoring while I'm sick? Or does he mean us? I'm not sure, but I'm hoping it's the latter.
I'm just out of it enough to admit to myself that I want there to be an 'us'. Will I be able to admit it to him when the conversation comes up?
For now, my eyes are already closing. He leaves to get dressed, and I drift off to sleep. I swear I feel the pressure of Bryant Nicks’ lips pressing a kiss to my temple before he leaves for the day.
When I wake up again, it's hours later, and I feel a hundred times better. My head and body don’t seem to ache as much as they did before, and I don't feel like I'm going to keel over if I attempt anything physical. Whereas before I had no appetite and have had to choke down a few bites of whatever Coach has made me since I've been here, now I'm ravenous.
After using the restroom, I head into the kitchen, finding it's after four in the afternoon. I slept much longer than I thought, but I suppose I needed it. There's a container of soup in the fridge that even has my name on it. Everything in the fridge, aside from condiments, is labeled. While my soup heats in the microwave, I look around the kitchen a bit, noticing how meticulously clean everything is. You can't even tell that he used the kitchen this morning.
I stand in the kitchen and scarf down the soup, first draining the broth by drinking it right out of the container, then eating all the chicken, vegetables, and brown rice. I find dish soap and a sponge under the sink, and make sure to clean everything I used. I don't know where the dish goes, so I leave the clean container on the counter, thanking him for the soup.
Assuming he expects me to stay until he gets back, I snoop around the house. I've nothing better to do, and surely there's a TV around here somewhere.
I push open the door to his bedroom, and his musky, sandalwood and laundry scent surrounds me. I don't go too far into the room, it feels too much like intruding. I notice how clean this room is, too, and it makes me backtrack to the guest room to make the bed and make sure to straighten everything up. Within minutes, it's like I was never here.
