The Quarterback by Tal Bauer

Chapter Thirteen

They were setto go live on Monday at the first bunch of Kimbrough’s sites, ten drill rigs across the high plains in the north Permian Basin.

Nick had sold Kimbrough his own personal mobile network, built by Nick, managed by Kimbrough. Kimbrough Oil Mobile. Nick’s company had dropped cell towers around the remote rig sites, leased access on all the major carrier networks under the Kimbrough name, even bounced a signal off satellites—anything to get strong, reliable cell coverage to the most remote regions of Texas. Nick sold Kimbrough his own top-of-the-line phones, too, loaded with Kimbrough Oil corporate and safety features and tuned to the mobile network at all times. With the dedicated Kimbrough Oil Mobile network, they had strong, direct lines to the outside world, especially calls for aid and emergency assistance. If the worst were to happen, there would be no delay in summoning help due to a faulty or failing signal or a choked radio band or static interference in the transmissions.

Kimbrough was Nick’s biggest client by an order of magnitude. If this succeeded, Nick could approach other oil drillers and remote operators and share Kimbrough’s success story about how he improved the health and safety of his far-flung workforce while improving morale, too. Giving everyone a high-speed data connection and a free smartphone had a way of making employees happy. If it didn’t succeed, Nick said, he might look into that professional Halo team after all.

On the Thursday before the first off-site rollout, Nick and Colton drove to Houston to meet with Kimbrough. They wanted to go over the timeline and run through every step that would happen on Monday when the network went live. The towers and hardware had been installed a month before, and now it was time to turn everything on.

They would head home Friday, then turn around on Monday and fly out to the drill sites.

They were so busy during the week that Colton almost didn’t have time to think about how deeply he’d fallen for Nick. His days at the office were swept up in preparations for Kimbrough. He test-drove the mobile networks, turning the towers off and on and off again, simulating failures, simulating calls. Every evening he and Nick worked late before grabbing something to go on the walk home. They were too exhausted to do much more than eat on the patio together, talking softly about Justin and Wes’s new photos or something they’d seen on the news or online.

Nick had bought two cases of Colton’s favorite wine from the winery, the sweet summer red, and each night, he poured them a glass. With each sip, Colton tasted a mixture of joy and regret, success and failure. Nick had told him, more than once, that the winery visit was one of the best surprises of his life. That he’d had a great time—the best time he’d had in longer than he could remember. That he’d wanted to go so many times but never did, maybe because he was meant to go with Colton that day.

Touchdown, Colton thought. Nailed it. Damn, you did good. He loved it.

And… Wimp. Wuss. He’d chickened out and hadn’t said a thing to Nick while they were there. Hadn’t reached for his hand or leaned in to kiss his lips or his wine-flushed cheek. Had that really been a flirty look in Nick’s eyes? Had his palm lingered, a fraction of a second too long, on Colton’s back? Had he seen anything there, or was that only his desperate imagination?

If a dizzy, wine-soaked summer afternoon hadn’t been a moment scripted for him to confess his crush, then he didn’t know what was. But he’d let it pass. He was too scared. What if what he thought he saw in Nick’s gaze wasn’t desire, but dust? The comfortable weight of his shoulder and his thigh against Colton’s nothing more than a heady pulse of cabernet in Nick’s veins? One thigh pressed against another was not a love story.

But it was fuel for his dreams. What-ifs and if-onlys played behind his eyelids as he slept. What if he’d laid his hand across Nick’s knee? What if he’d trailed his fingers up Nick’s inner thigh? Brushed the inner seam of his khakis, traced an arc over his quads?

Now he watched the trees fly by along the highway as they drove. The playlist he’d made for Nick was their soundtrack, along with the hum of the tires. Nick drummed his fingertips on the wheel in time with the beat.

He’d made this drive so many times in his dreams, always holding Nick’s hand, that it felt strange not to reach for Nick in real life. He ran nervous fingers up and down the inside seams of his shorts, but that made him imagine Nick’s hands on him, tracing a path up the curve of his thigh, and he squeezed the fabric in his hand and held his breath until he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

When they arrived, it was the same routine as before: check in, drop their bags, change. Colton had brought a football for Kimbrough this time, and Nick held it steady as he signed it with his left hand. His signature looked like a scribble, vertical lines and a single cross bar, but weren’t signatures supposed to be messy? “Kimbrough will be overjoyed,” Nick said.

The football had been Colton’s idea, not Nick’s. It would benefit Nick, though, and that’s what mattered.

Kimbrough was ecstatic. He loved the football, was beyond effusive in his thanks. He tossed the ball back and forth with Nick, then came across his office and pulled Colton into a surprisingly gentle one-armed bear hug. “When you get yourself back to throwing those touchdowns, you’ll have to come out to the Permian Basin with me. You can stand on one edge of my oil field and throw this ball so far you can watch it curl around the edge of the earth.”

They dove into business, and Kimbrough was patient with Colton when Nick turned the meeting over to him. The first time Colton had ever spoken in front of a client, and it was Nick’s biggest one. He walked Kimbrough through the testing he’d done, the simulations and trials of the mobile towers, the network operations, and different use cases. Minimal use, maximum use. As many variations of utilization as he could imagine. Testing the network had been like stepping up to the line and going under center. Reading the defense. What were they going to throw at him, and how would he respond? Now, what was the world going to throw at Nick’s network? How did Colton test that, and how should he respond so Nick could have his touchdown with Kimbrough?

He stumbled a bit at first but then hit his stride, and when he was done, Kimbrough was beaming.

Nick took Kimbrough through the rollout planned for Monday. Kimbrough had a thousand questions for Nick, and he was able to answer every one. Awe filled Colton as he watched. Was there nothing Nick didn’t know?

They went to dinner at Kimbrough’s steak house again—and it was his steak house. Colton had looked it up back at the office one afternoon, curious. Kimbrough owned the place, one of his many diversified ventures outside of oil and gas exploration. Colton must have been added to the list of notable guests, because his preferred beer and his choice cut of steak appeared without him having to order anything. He did make the server blink, though, when he asked her if she had any summer reds. Kimbrough, of course, noticed when they brought him his balloon glass of shimmering ruby wine, and that led into the story of Colton taking Nick to the winery the day his divorce was finalized. Colton blushed, Nick smiled at him—kind of like he did in Colton’s dreams, when Colton threw a touchdown and Nick’s was the only face in the stands he could see—and Kimbrough chuckled as he stared at his own whiskey glass.

“You hang on to this one, Nick,” Kimbrough rumbled. “He’s going to be a fine, fine man.”

“The NFL will be very lucky to have him,” Nick said. He winked at Colton.

Kimbrough nodded, but his intense, weather-worn eyes seemed to see everything, including what wasn’t on the surface, when he gazed at Colton. Colton tried not to squirm.

The night ended with the finalization of their Monday plans: Nick and Colton flying from Austin to Lubbock, where Kimbrough’s helicopter would pick them up and ferry them out to the largest of the ten drill rigs they were bringing online. They’d be on site when the network went live. Ideally, everything would go to plan, and they’d take a quick tour of the rest of the rigs before heading back to Lubbock and catching a flight home. Easy peasy. Hopefully.

They went back to the hotel via private car again. On the way, Colton asked Nick, “Are we going to Brad’s bar tonight?”

“I could use a celebratory drink, and you’ve more than earned one. You did great today.”

Colton beamed.

They ditched their jackets and ties in the room, and Colton switched to his simpler sling after they got his stretches and arm lifts out of the way. The walk seemed quicker this time, or maybe it was the weather being less humid, or maybe it was just that Colton was happier, every thought in his head consumed by the man walking beside him.

Brad was overjoyed to see them again, and he had beers on the bar top for them before they pulled out their stools. He flirted with them, called Colton “hot stuff” and Nick “sexy daddy.” He asked about their summer, how Colton’s arm was feeling, and how Justin and Wes were doing.

Colton could see, so damn easily, how Nick would have befriended Brad in moments. They’d probably been just like this the first night they met, talking up a storm, Brad so wholly focused on Nick it felt like they were the only men in the bar.

Eventually, Brad had to work the crowd, and he moved off with a fingertip wave and a blown kiss, leaving Nick and Colton to each other. Justin and Wes had texted while Brad was with them, and Nick had shown off Justin’s latest ballet pose, Wes’s picture of himself standing tall in the saddle with a lasso looped over his head, and the two of them arm in arm on the edge of a mesa, a selfie of their tanned faces and what looked like eternity behind them.

They texted their cowboys back—no selfies of their own this time—and then Nick put his phone away.

Colton had drunk less with dinner than he had the first time they came to Houston. He couldn’t explain away the bubbly feeling in his blood on champagne or too much red wine. He wasn’t even drinking his Shiner that fast, though Nick was on his second already. But there was something in the air that was making him dizzy, like he’d taken a deep breath of helium. The lights were bright, glittering in time with the laughter of the other groups and cozy couples. He could hear men having fun, celebrating and joking. His eyes wandered, and he watched two men flirt at one end of the bar. Saw one man lay his hand on another’s for the first time, if the sudden smiles on both their faces were anything to go by. A hipster and an older man nuzzled in a corner booth, kissing in between soft whispers. Someone winked at him from a crowded table by the door.

Nick gulped down the last of his Shiner as he eyed Colton. “You know, I have to tell you, I’m beyond impressed with you this summer. I mean, I had no doubt you were going to be amazing, Colton, but you’ve thrown yourself into learning everything. I rely on you more than I rely on my account executives sometimes. You’re just… You’re doing great. And Kimbrough’s right. No matter what your future holds, you’re going to be doing amazing things. Anyone will be lucky to have you.”

He stared at Nick. Squeezed down on his pint glass and felt the icy condensation dribble between his fingers. I don’t want “anyone.” I want you.

Nick cocked his head at Colton. His cheeks were flushed, like they’d been that afternoon at the winery. His eyes were bright, as brilliant as the little disco ball spinning in the corner of the bar. He smiled.

It was like taking a sack, the wind knocked clear out of him. He stared back stupidly, hoping he was smiling, hoping he wasn’t smiling too much, hoping he wasn’t giving it all away. I want to be your quarterback. I want a million nights like this. I want you to always smile at me exactly the way you are right now.

“What about you?” Nick nudged Colton’s thigh with his knee. “What do you think about this summer? Are you having a good time?”

Dream lives together, sunny days riding in Nick’s car, holding his hand. A hundred football games, a hundred touchdown passes, a hundred victory kisses. Nick above him, Nick wrapping his arms around him. Nick beneath him, Colton’s lips and mouth on Nick’s skin, exploring in ways he’d never thought about before. Every moment of every day filled up with Nick, every place inside him burning for Nick’s touch, Nick’s gaze, Nick’s smile. Nick’s kiss.

Do it. Kiss him.

He moved before he could second-guess himself, overthink things too much, or wimp out like he’d done at the winery. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Nick’s, tilting his head so their noses wouldn’t bump, so their lips would brush at that perfect juncture, where the bow of Nick’s lips would slide into the soft parting of Colton’s. The earth seemed to still, and the only movement he felt was the frantic pounding of his pulse and his lips, gently nibbling on Nick’s unmoving pair.

He’s not kissing back.

Colton pulled away. He swallowed and stared into the biggest, most shocked eyes he’d ever seen. Nick, stunned. Nick, speechless. Nick, blinking as he stared at Colton like Colton had just stepped out of an alien spaceship, descended from the moons of Jupiter.

No, that’s not how this was supposed to go. That’s not what he’d imagined, had played out in both his daytime and nighttime fantasies. No, no, no, no, no—

He leaned in again, this time cupping Nick’s face with his left hand as he pressed their lips together. His thumb stroked Nick’s cheekbone as his fingers played in the hair at Nick’s neckline, above the starched collar of his button-down. Stubble tickled his palm.

Encroachment. Five-yard penalty. His mind screamed at him to stop moving his lips over Nick’s. Pull back. Run away. Don’t look into his eyes. You just fucked the fuck up. You found the end.

He squeezed his eyes closed, kissing Nick one last time, his lips molding to Nick’s once more, brushing gently before he tickled Nick’s bottom lip with the tiniest pass of his tongue. One taste, one forbidden taste. Nick could push him away, knock him off the barstool, tell him he never wanted to see Colton again. Colton could take an Uber to the airport and fly back to Austin, move his stuff back to the jock house tonight. He could spend the rest of the summer under his covers, getting fat on Fritos and Mountain Dew. If he just got one taste—

Nick’s lips parted. He groaned, and his tongue snaked out and met Colton’s as he reached for Colton with both hands, tugging him forward so unexpectedly he tumbled into Nick’s hold, his chest crashing against Nick’s as he stood in the bracket of Nick’s spread thighs.

Stunned, he broke the kiss—You fucking idiot, why did you do that, you just got what you always wanted!—and reared back. He felt his own eyes go wide as he stared at Nick’s kiss-swollen lips and dilated pupils.

“Are you kissing me back?” he blurted out.

“Are you kissing me?” Nick breathed.

“Well… yeah.”

“Why?” Nick’s hands shook where they grasped Colton’s button-down, two fistfuls of fabric over his pecs. His lips were parted, still shiny from their kiss—Jesus, that’s me, that’s me on his lips—and his head moved in tiny shakes, like he couldn’t believe the world he was in.

Colton felt the flush start in his chest, rise from beneath his collar and stain his cheeks crimson. “I think that’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? Unless I really suck at things. More than I thought I did.”

Nick blinked. He tried to say something. Nothing came out.

“I want you.” His whisper bounced off Nick’s lips. “I want you, Nick.”

Something sparked deep inside Nick’s gaze. His pupils went from oceans of surprise, shock bleeding in all directions, to lakes of fire. Pools of magma. His gaze raked down Colton’s body, from his lips to his chest—where Nick was still grasping his shirt—to his waist and lower, then snapped up, lingering on Colton’s lips before shooting higher to catch Colton’s stare.

Nick shoved off his barstool. He slammed into Colton, their legs, hips, shoulders colliding. Colton jerked, and he grabbed Nick’s waist and held him tight, keeping them joined, body to body. He felt his cock go from scared and soft to desperate and hard against Nick, Nick’s crotch, Nick’s cock.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nick growled.

* * *

The walkback to the hotel was a blur.

Colton remembered his back hitting brick walls, remembered clinging to Nick’s waist as they kissed feverishly. Flashes in time, moments that became fixed memories. Nick’s tongue tangling with his. His head thrown back, scraping against brick and mortar as Nick bit down on his jaw or neck. Nick’s hands traveling over his hips, sliding up his sides and over his ribs. Their bodies arching together. Thigh finding thigh, finding the space between each other’s legs. Colton’s cock had never been so hard.

They raced up the stairs to their suite. Nick’s hands shook as he worked the lock, trying and missing the doorknob. They barged inside like wild animals, and the door clattered off the wall, then slammed shut behind them. It was late. They were going to get noise complaints. Colton didn’t care.

He grabbed Nick around the waist and hauled him close, then backed up, all the way to Nick’s bed. He sealed his lips over Nick’s, thrust his tongue into Nick’s mouth.

Fuck, with his sling on, he couldn’t move the way he wanted to, couldn’t get both hands on Nick’s body. He tore the damn thing off and dropped it beside the bed as he fell backward, still holding Nick.

His shoulder twanged once, and then he forgot he had a shoulder.

Nick crawled over him, straddling his legs and his waist as he chased Colton’s lips. His hands raked through Colton’s hair, fingers grasping Colton’s skull almost hard enough to hurt. His kiss was a tornado: wild, ferocious, unrestrained. It was like a full defensive line bearing down on Colton, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Could only grab Nick and kiss him back.

He bucked up, thrusting his hips against Nick. His cock was straining. Aching. He needed to feel Nick’s body, needed to feel if Nick wanted Colton as badly as Colton wanted Nick.

There. His hard heat found Nick’s, still encased in their suit pants.

Yes. Nick was hard. Hard for him.

Nick groaned and buried his forehead against Colton’s. His wet lips brushed over Colton’s jaw, his cheek. He exhaled, whispered, “Colton.”

Colton whimpered. Both arms rose—twang went his shoulder—and encircled Nick’s waist before he tugged frantically on Nick’s dress shirt. He got it free from Nick’s pants and then slid his hands up under the starched cotton, under the loose hem of his undershirt.

Nick pushed off Colton, rising in his lap. Colton hissed, his hands falling back. Too much, I went too far—

Nick’s shaking fingers started on the buttons of his shirt. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed as he fought his third button.

Colton joined him, getting four buttons undone as Nick managed another one. He sat up, sliding Nick’s shirt down his shoulders before wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist again. He buried his face in Nick’s chest. More than a dusting but less than a pelt, Nick’s dark chest hair, dotted with silver strands, spread from pec to pec, down to his flat stomach, and lower, disappearing beneath his belt.

“You, too,” Nick whispered. His lips moved against Colton’s hair, the crown of his head. He clung to Colton’s shoulders. “Take your shirt off.”

Colton rolled them both, laying Nick on his back on the mattress as he straddled Nick like Nick had straddled him. He worked his buttons like his shirt was on fire, ignoring the steadily rising ache in his shoulder. He shucked his shirt as soon as he had it open, but the bunched fabric of his sleeves caught on his forearms, and he had to shake his arms like he was one of those inflatable tube figures parked outside car dealerships in summer. Nick helped Colton get his shirt off, then shimmied out of his own undershirt.

Skin to skin, chest to chest. Colton nearly came in his pants at just the feel of Nick against him, reality set free from all his dreams. Colton pulled his hips back—don’t come don’t come don’t come—and then balanced his weight on his left elbow as he started kissing his way down Nick’s jaw, his neck, over his collarbones.

Down to his chest and into that patch of chest hair. Nick shuddered beneath him, his heart beating so hard Colton could hear it, feel it when he pressed his lips over Nick’s left pec. This was his first time ever being up close and personal, lips to skin, with a man’s chest. He kissed the skin over Nick’s heart, sucked a hickey beneath his nipple. Hair was a new sensation, different from a girl’s endless curves. Not a bad sensation, though. Not when it was Nick’s chest hair. He latched on to Nick’s nipple and bit down.

Nick’s back arched as he made a noise between a scream and a groan. His legs spread, and Colton shifted, moved his knees in between Nick’s thighs. He kept kissing lower, lower, lips sliding over Nick’s belly button and both of his hips before he reached the barrier of Nick’s dress pants and belt. Below the buckle, Nick’s cock strained against his zipper, almost obscene with how much it tented his pants.

Nick was as turned on as Colton was.

He nuzzled Nick’s quivering belly and reached for Nick’s belt.

“Oh my God…” Nick whispered. His hands fluttered over Colton’s head. Fingers slid through Colton’s hair. “Colton… Fuck…” Nick helped him kick his pants off, even though he kept his head tilted back and had his eyes squeezed closed. His breath came in hard, harsh pants, almost frantic. Almost panicked.

This was the moment. This was it. This was what he’d dreamed about. What he’d wished he could ask Wes’s help with. He’d thought the question a hundred times: how do I go down on a man? How do I make it good for Nick?

He hoped enthusiasm would make up for his lack of skill. Colton wrapped his lips around Nick’s swollen cock head and sucked. Nick bucked into him, almost throwing Colton off, but he held on to Nick’s hips. Nick groaned again, and his heels dug into the mattress as his thighs clenched and released, clenched and released. He bobbed, sucking as much as he could into his mouth in long, deep strokes. Which, surprisingly, was a lot. Nick seemed shocked, too, and moaned Colton’s name as Colton’s lips almost—but not quite—reached Nick’s tangled pubes.

It wasn’t anything like he’d ever done before. There was nothing in his real life to compare this to. He’d sucked on Popsicles and Tootsie Pops and had eaten bananas all his life, but none of that—not even his dreams, where he’d sucked Nick off at least once a night—came close to what it was like to take Nick’s cock inside his mouth. Warm skin, sweat, a musk that was all Nick. He ran his tongue up the underside, swirled it around the head again. Hollowed his cheeks and wet his lips and sucked as he bobbed up and down, up and down, up and down, faster, faster, his right hand curling around Nick’s thigh. Nick’s cock head hit the back of his throat one, two, three times.

Nick dug his fingers into Colton’s hair and screamed.

He was a guy. He knew the signs. He felt Nick tense, felt his thigh muscles go hard and rigid, felt his ass clench and his hips levitate. Felt his cock get, impossibly, harder in his mouth, right before Nick came.

Like most men, Colton had tasted his own come. He’d put his finger to his tongue after jacking off, curious enough to try a droplet. A droplet was different from a torrent, the force of a geyser shooting out of a man’s balls and emptying down his throat. Nick’s come slammed into the roof of his mouth, coating his throat like hot cream. He coughed, choking on the thick, salty fluid filling him. His mouth opened, and Nick’s come dripped out, sliding down his shaft and pooling in his crotch. Colton tried to lick it all up, lapping at Nick’s cock and balls as Nick cursed and whispered his name, a litany of “Colton” and “Fuck” and “Oh, God.”

Colton sat up and wiped the back of his hand over his come-drenched lips. Not a bad end for his first blowjob. And, now that he’d done it, he wanted to do it again. And again. Before a few weeks ago, he’d never imagined he’d crave sucking another guy’s cock, but here he was. Already wanting more.

His own dick twitched at the thought. He sat back between Nick’s spread and naked legs and jerked at his own belt, pawing at his zipper and yanking off his pants and boxer briefs as he fell to Nick’s side. Nick hadn’t moved since he’d come down Colton’s throat. He was still lying there with his eyes closed, panting and shaking.

Colton was so fucking close to coming, he could probably do it just by looking at Nick. He didn’t need Nick’s hands on him, but it would be nice—

Nick rolled toward him, holding him around the back of his neck with one hand and fumbling for his hard dick with the other. He dragged Colton close, pushing their foreheads together as he awkwardly squeezed Colton’s cock. He seemed not to know what to do or how to hold him, how to twist his wrist and stroke when everything was backward and the cock he was trying to jerk belonged to another man. His movements were awkward. His grip caught on Colton’s head, then squeezed too hard on the shaft.

“Sorry,” Nick whispered. His lips brushed over Colton’s. He dug his forehead against Colton’s, buried his nose in Colton’s cheek. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What do you… How should I?”

“I’m so close it doesn’t matter.” He clutched at Nick’s hand, the one trying to jerk him. “Squeeze. Run your thumb—”

Then Nick got it, like magic, and Colton keened, pushed his lips against Nick’s, dug his fingers into Nick’s arm, and exploded. White light, summer sun, a million touchdown passes. Every win he’d ever had, condensed into one perfect moment, the feel of Nick holding him and Nick’s lips kissing him back and him orgasming with Nick there this time. It’s not a dream, it’s not a dream. He breathed Nick’s name as his orgasm faded, as the earthquake settled, and he came back down to reality, to the bed they were in, together.

They’d done it.

He’d kissed Nick, and Nick had kissed him back.

He’d had sex with Nick. And he’d loved it.

Had Nick been thinking about him the same way Colton was thinking about him? Was that really flirtation in his eyes back at the winery? Had this desire been building quietly in both of them, and had they both stumbled into these feelings like they’d been walking around in the dark?

A wave of post-orgasm bliss washed through him. He draped his arm over Nick’s waist and buried his face in Nick’s neck. Nick’s heart was still hammering out a too-fast rhythm. Colton kissed Nick’s chest, his furred pec, right above his heart, and let his eyes drift closed.

“Colton…” He heard Nick whisper as Nick ran his hand down his left arm. He fell asleep to the soft stroking of Nick’s fingers and the wild beat of Nick’s heart beneath his cheek.