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My summer routine was pretty relaxed compared to both the pre- and regular season schedule I kept as a third-year linebacker in the NFL. I was lucky to even be playing, much less a starter for the Seattle Senators.
Heading back into the kitchen, I faintly heard his music coming from the back of the condo. Cole Bradley was my childhood best friend and my biggest secret. Everyone assumed I was a player and never bedded the same woman twice, and I did nothing to nix that idea. But the truth was, I had always been committed to the kid who had stolen my heart when we were seven years old.
Pulling a Body Fuel protein shake from the fridge, I twisted off the top and took a big swig of the post-workout chocolate concoction of protein and vitamins. I didn’t really like it, but it was necessary to keep my six-foot-five frame of muscle NFL-ready. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Cole loved my body. That alone made all the work worth it.
My phone buzzed again as I leaned against the marble countertop in my two thousand-square-foot home overlooking downtown Seattle. I pulled it out of the pocket of my athletic shorts to notice a Twitter notification.
I frowned at my phone and the random post by the NFL. The only things I officially followed on social media were the league, my team, and my teammates. Unofficially, and under another account, I followed several gay couples and some groups in the queer community. I tried to keep up with everything going on with my team since I wasn’t out. No one knew Cole, the lead singer of Fallen Angel, was Patrick Griffin’s boyfriend. As far as anyone knew, he was being chased by women, too. But, like I was with him, he only had eyes for me.
Sometimes it was really hard to listen to the homophobic shit coming out of my teammates’ mouths. It was all I could do some days to hold it in until I got on the field. I saved up all those feelings for the field, then took my aggravation out on the opposing team’s offense. And namely, their quarterback.
I finished my shake, pocketed my phone, then grabbed a bottle of water before heading to my sofa. Collapsing onto the huge leather sectional that faced my seventy-five-inch OLED television, I was ready to catch up with Sports Center.
“Alexa, turn on the TV.”
“Turning on the TV.” Technology was great.
I was five minutes in when callused fingers ran through my hair, then slid down my body. I hummed at the feel of them working their way to the edge of my t-shirt, then pulling it up and off my body.
“Hey, baby.” Cole bent his six-foot frame over the back of the sofa to my ear, then took the lobe into his mouth. He sucked and tongued around it, leaving me speechless and only able to grunt and hum.
“I missed you this morning,” he said, continuing his assault on one of my most sensitive erogenous zones.
“Had… h-had to work out.” I squirmed under his touch as he ran his rough fingertips back down my abs and into my workout shorts, intentionally avoiding my dick.
“Touch me, asshole,” I murmured, bucking my hips up to meet his hand.
He chuckled. “You want me to touch your asshole?”
Fucking hell, he was driving me crazy. Time to take control of this situation and get what I needed.
I grabbed his arm and urged him over the sofa, then pulled him across my lap.
His dark brown hair shifted just enough to cover the blue eyes I loved so much. Just looking at him almost took my breath away.
Cole smiled up at me and ran his hand around the back of my neck. He pulled me toward him, meeting me halfway. Our lips met and opened instinctively, seeking the other out. His taste was intoxicating, like coffee and chocolate.
I ran my big palm over his cock, trapped in his jeans. Cole moaned and squirmed under my touch.
“I need you,” he said, pulling back, his eyes melting me on the spot.
“I need you more.”
Cole pulled my mouth back to his for another kiss, then twisted to get up and strip off his clothes. Removing my athletic shorts took two seconds and pooled at my feet on the floor.
I growled when he dropped to his knees on the plush rug in the middle of the room. He crawled to the end table and pulled open the drawer where we kept the lube for such occasions.
I stroked my cock and watched him as a steady drip of bead after bead of pre-cum slid down my shaft, tickling my cock when a breath of cold air from the AC licked across the moisture.
Cole held my gaze captive as his cock bobbed in the air as he knee-walked toward me. He settled between my legs, pushed them apart, and took my cock in his callused hands. I’d never been so happy he played the guitar as I was now. The contrast of his rough fingers on the silky skin that wrapped around my cock made me slam my head against the back of the sofa and close my eyes.
The click of the lid of the lube alerted me to Cole’s attention to my balls and taint. He gripped my cock with his right hand, sucked my balls into his warm, wet mouth, then pushed one slick finger along my taint.
I moaned as he tongued my bare balls, the sensitive skin free of hair, just the way he liked it.
“Cole, baby… I’m gonna blow….”
He popped my balls out of his mouth, but continued to hold my cock in his hand while he faintly rubbed my taint. The wicked smile on his face was the one he used to drive the crowd crazy at his shows, but I knew it was for me.
