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Seriously?
I give him a cocky grin and sit down next to the seat where I've placed his soup and gesture to it. I'm not going anywhere.
He rolls his eyes and sits down, wincing when he takes a sip of the soup.
"Yeah, I know. But it's better than dry protein bars."
"Is it?" He takes a few bites of the soup before turning to the salad, which he mostly finishes. I pretend to play with my phone, but I watch him eat every bite, focusing on the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. He notices me watching him and shakes his head, pushing away the food. "Alright, thanks for dinner, I guess. I'm going back to bed now."
I shake my head. "Not done returning my favors," I say, getting to my knees.
He doesn't push his seat back or turn towards me when I reach for his lap. Instead, he runs his hand over his face before leaning forward and resting his forehead in his hands.
"Go home, Jack."
"I distinctly remember feeling much better after getting my dick sucked. It's worth a try."
"Go. Home."
I stand and cross my arms, fully aware that I probably look like a petulant child, but I don't care. I'm annoyed at the way he's been ignoring me. "Why?"
He looks up at me with cold eyes, his expression hard and blank. "What happened Monday…"
"You're going to say that it can't or won't happen again, but that's bullshit. You keep going back and forth, but this will you, won't you shit is getting old. You want me, and I want you. It's as simple as that."
"If we got caught…"
"We won't. We'll be careful."
"I don't want you getting the wrong idea, either."
"Wrong idea about what?"
"I'm too old for you."
"This isn't a relationship, this is an exchange. A diversion until the season ends."
I'm not sure why my stomach clenches when I notice the look of relief on his face. He nods, almost begrudgingly, and I roll my eyes. He narrows his, and I laugh.
"Alright, old man. Pull your cock out so you can get back to your nap."
Coach Nicks comes back to practice a few days later, just in time to run us through our new plays and to push us through torturous workouts every night. He says Sanders was too easy on us. He's probably right.
The burn in my muscles makes my dick hard, and as usual, I stay behind to work out until everyone has showered and left. Coach's office door is ajar and his light is still on when I enter the locker room. I drop my clothes on the floor, a trail of breadcrumbs leading to the sauna. It takes about ten minutes before he comes in, just long enough for me to think he might not show.
He drops his towel the moment he walks in, standing there in all of his muscled glory. His whole body is thick with muscle. A thin layer of dark hair covers his chest and leads down to the very large, very proud, appendage jutting out between his legs. He palms it, running his hand up the length and pressing it against his hard stomach so I can see that bulging vein that makes my mouth water. Opening my towel, I let my erection free, stroking it as I watch his hand move over his cock.
"On your knees, Perry." It's clear by his tone that he hasn't come to play around, and it sends a delicious shiver over my heated skin.
The ground is hard and wet from the steam as I drop to my knees in front of him, waiting expectantly. I know exactly what he wants me to do, but I like to hear him tell me.
"Open," he says, running his fingers over my jaw. I comply, sucking in a breath of humid air as his thick cock pushes into my mouth. "Suck," he says, and I wrap my lips around the head, sucking and swirling my tongue around the tip until he starts to move deeper into my mouth.
He doesn't fuck my face the way he normally does, hard and fast and brutal. Instead, he grips my hair and guides me up and down his shaft, languidly, like he's savoring the feeling of my mouth on him. However gentle he's being, he's still large, stretching out my mouth so I can't suck in the spit that escapes and pools on the floor beneath us. I look up at him beneath my lashes, and he pumps farther into my throat. I've gotten more conditioned to having him all the way down my throat, so I don't gag, only work my throat to try and swallow around him, which makes him groan. Then he lifts his hands away from my head, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his neck, my cue to take over and do it my way.
I bring my hands up, using one to cup and tug on his big, heavy balls. The other wraps around his base, stroking and squeezing while I hollow out my cheeks and bob on his big cock. I chance another glance upwards, watching him watch me with his mouth parted slightly.
"You love my fucking cock," he says, almost in awe. I hum around his cock in appreciation. Gay or not, I do love his fucking cock. I love the way it looks, the way it tastes, the way it feels.
