The Quarterback by Tal Bauer

Chapter Sixteen

They stayed in bed,lying side by side, fingers tracing slow paths up arms and over shoulders and between their pecs. Colton’s body was so different from Cynthia’s, and Nick’s mind automatically drew parallels and made comparisons. Hard muscles instead of round breasts. Firm skin where he was used to more give. Colton had a flat stomach—not quite a washboard, but hard enough Nick could feel the cut of his abs when he ran his palm down Colton’s belly. Jutting, sharp hip bones, instead of the comfortable curves Cynthia had carried ever since she’d borne Justin.

Other, more obvious differences. He wrapped his hand around Colton’s hard length and stroked him, smiling as Colton shivered and shook and bit his lip. They stared into each other’s eyes, never blinking, never looking away, as he jacked Colton and learned what he liked. Pressure, a twist of Nick’s wrist. His thumb rolling over the head, smearing Colton’s precome over his crown.

Colton was young, and Nick made him come three times before Colton pushed his hands away and tried to curl into a fetal position. “No more,” he begged. “Too sensitive.”

He kissed Colton and grinned. Tangled his leg through Colton’s thighs. Slid his fingers between Colton’s. “I’m a giver.” He nuzzled Colton’s cheek. “I like seeing you come. I like hearing you say my name when you do, too.”

Colton shivered again, and he opened his mouth to reply, but the shrill clang of twin phone alarms shattered the stillness of the bedroom. They broke apart, eyes wide. “My phone,” Colton blurted.

“Mine, too.”

They grabbed their clothes off the floor and fished their phones from their pockets. Nick silenced his alarm and cursed when he saw the calendar notification. “Shit. You have your doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes.”

How could he have forgotten? Colton, they hoped, was getting his sling off and moving to the third phase of his physical therapy: active movement. Slow, steady strength training. The grind of getting back to quarterbacking. The appointment was why they’d seen Kimbrough on Thursday and come back on Friday rather than staying the weekend and going out to Lubbock with Kimbrough on his corporate jet.

Well, he’d been a little distracted, he supposed.

They flew through a shower together, soaping each other up and washing their hair, spending precious moments touching again until they had to really run. Colton dashed to Justin’s bedroom for clean clothes while Nick pulled on fresh jeans and a T-shirt. Down to the garage, and then they raced across town, getting to the doctor’s office only five minutes late.

“Hmm,” the doctor said when he got Colton’s sling and T-shirt off. He examined Colton’s shoulder, manipulating it up and down carefully. Colton clenched his teeth and held Nick’s stare.

“Did you push yourself, Colton? There’s some irritation where there wasn’t any before.” The doctor laid his hand over Colton’s shoulder and slid it across his collarbone, then down to his shoulder blade. “Definite swelling throughout the joint.”

Nick swallowed. Damn it, why hadn’t he stopped Colton last night? Why hadn’t he been more aware? Had Colton thought he needed to take the sling off to please Nick?

“I, uh, accidentally slept with it off. I think it moved around.”

“Colton.” The doctor shook his head and sighed. “Keep your sling on at night. At least for the next week, for sure.”

“What about during the day? And can I move forward with physical therapy?”

The doctor’s hands kept moving over the joint, poking and prodding and moving Colton’s shoulder this way and that. Lifting laterally, slowly, then lifting forward. He asked Colton to describe his pain levels with each movement, asked him if there was any catching, any locking. Colton gritted his teeth, but he told the doctor the pain wasn’t unbearable.

“All right,” the doctor said, “I will release you to the third phase of physical therapy, though you’ll start slowly. Very, very slowly. Stretching. Gentle movements. I don’t want you lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup for now.”

“What about a football?”

“Underhand tossing only for right now.”

“I’ll take it.” A tiny smile brightened Colton’s face. “I’ll take anything that gets my hands back on the ball. What about working out? Can I go back to the gym?”

The most Colton had been allowed to do was walk, which they’d done down by Lady Bird Lake as often as they could.

“Light workouts,” the doctor said. “Nothing weight-bearing on your shoulder. Nothing that will overly strain it, either. Don’t go throwing yourself into squats and leg presses and heave with your back and shoulders this week. That won’t help you.”

“I got it. I think I’ve been pretty good so far, Doc. I want to heal right. I want to get back out there.”

Nick’s smile froze as Colton’s words hit him. They were the same things he’d been saying for months, and Nick had always wanted the same thing for him: full healing, Colton back on the field throwing touchdown passes and winning games. Colton back on the path of superstardom. On his way to the NFL.

He hadn’t been with Colton before, though. He hadn’t had to think forward, imagine Colton playing football and him… what? In the stands, leaning over the railing for a pregame kiss like Justin and Wes? Him, a man twice Colton’s age? Colton surely wouldn’t want Nick there like that. Wouldn’t want the world’s prying eyes on their…

He still didn’t know what to call it. What was this between them? They were all over the place. Living together like they were married and then sharing first, terrified kisses. First blow jobs and hand jobs and whispering that they were going to figure things out.

Before they’d kissed, he could admit that Colton Hall, age twenty-two, was his best friend. After the kiss? Best friend wasn’t enough. Lover was too… well, they were more than just lovers. Colton was more than a hookup.

But what were they? And what where they going to become? What were they going to figure out?

And what combination of events would lead Colton to be the number one college quarterback in the nation while he went home to Nick Swanscott, age forty-three, every night?

And after college?

Professional NFL quarterbacks didn’t have older men as their… best friends. Lovers.

Day by day. Hold on to each of them, because eventually Colton would begin to drift away from him. He could see it like he could see the trajectory of a pass when the football launched out of Colton’s hand.

Enjoy yourself. When was the last time you were desired like this? When was the last time someone dreamed about you? Maybe it does have an expiration date, but you can cherish it while it lasts.

Something rustled inside him, heavy and empty, like huge wind chimes moving on a dusty wind. His thoughts were discordant, off-key. They didn’t sit right inside him, ran against the grain of things he couldn’t change deep within him.

He’d never had a fling. Before Cynthia, there was his high school girlfriend, the foolish passion of a young teenager who thought the first girl he ever kissed would be the woman he spent forever with. Then he was married. He’d never cheated. Not once. And then… he wasn’t married.

The world liked to tell men of his age, after they got divorced, to let loose. Have a fling or twenty. Embrace single life. Embrace younger women—or men—who found them attractive. Go for it.

He’d always called that kind of behavior a midlife crisis.

Well, what was he doing now? Hadn’t Justin said that, when all he knew was that Nick and Colton went to a winery together? One day of his and Colton’s summer.

“Take care of yourself, Colton,” the doctor said. Nick’s attention ground back to the appointment. Colton jumped off the exam table, his arm free from the sling and loose in front of him. He lifted it slowly, like the doctor had done.

Beamed at Nick.

What could Nick do, other than smile back?

“If your shoulder gets tired, put the sling on. Sleep in your sling, too. Keep it protected when you’re not engaged in stretching or strengthening.”

Colton nearly vibrated out of the office, and he didn’t even want to stop for a late lunch before heading back to the condo and grabbing his football. He pulled Nick with him to Zilker Park, palming the football and shooting big, sidelong smiles Nick’s way.

They started slowly, with gentle, underhand tosses back and forth, soft pitches from no more than three feet apart. After the first toss, Colton’s eyes went wide, and he ran his hand up and over his shoulder for a moment before Nick threw the ball back.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It just… feels different.”

They tossed the ball for half an hour, but even the gentle back and forth wore Colton’s shoulder out. He took his shirt off to mop the sweat from his forehead, but it still poured down his face. Finally, they took a break and sat on the lawn, Colton slightly hunched and sheltering his right arm. Nick laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing his quivering back muscles.

“Is this okay?”

“Are you kidding? Please don’t stop.” Colton groaned as Nick knelt behind him and dug his thumbs into the seizing line of muscle where Colton’s spine met his trapezius, up to his shoulder joint, and then over to his delicate collarbone. The scar from his surgery was a jagged, milky edge, the skin healed but still marked.

He massaged Colton’s back until his knees went numb against the lawn, until his wrists were aching, his fingers trembling. Colton was limp and moaning in front of him, swaying with every push and knead and pull.

“There.” Nick sat back on his heels. He left one hand draped on Colton’s shoulder.

Colton tipped his head back and smiled upside down. “Thank you,” he whispered. “That was amazing.”

“The massage?”

“That, yeah. Tossing the ball, too. When I’m better, I can’t wait to really throw with you. Like we used to do when we’d throw to each other between the stands and the field?”

He nodded. Almost every time he showed up to practice with Justin last season, Colton sent the ball his way.

Justin. His heart squeezed.

He focused on Colton, on the man right in front of him and the simple joy rippling across his young face. He wanted to lean down and press his lips to Colton’s. Kiss him until Colton tipped all the way back and he laid his head in Nick’s lap. He wanted to run his fingers through Colton’s sweaty hair and let the sun pass overhead, let the afternoon swallow them whole.

Take it easy. Colton has a future, and its shape is in your hands.

Don’t push. Don’t step too far. Don’t make an unforgivable mistake, something that can’t be taken back. Something Colton will have to live with, long after you’re gone.

NFL players don’t have older men as lovers.

* * *

Making dinner together was different,now that they were, well, together. And now that Colton had two hands instead of one.

On the walk home they picked up steaks to grill, and Colton put together a Caesar salad as Nick peppered rib eyes and carted them to the balcony. Colton went back and forth with plates and forks and two wineglasses, then grabbed one of the bottles from their winery, setting the little patio table where they’d eaten together almost every night.

Two arms wound around Nick’s waist as he flipped the steaks. Colton’s chin landed on his shoulder. “Smells great.” Colton’s lips nipped along his neck and up to his jaw before sucking on his earlobe.

He captured those lips with his. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss, sweet, but it turned hungry when Colton moaned and squeezed Nick’s hips.

“Careful.” Nick pulled away. He didn’t want to. “The steaks are going to be charcoal if you keep distracting me.”

“There’s always DoorDash.” Colton buried his face in the back of Nick’s neck, mouthing over his hairline as his hands wandered beneath Nick’s T-shirt.

Nick laughed, and for a moment, he considered it. Turning off the grill. Taking Colton’s hand and guiding him back to bed, where they could figure out a few more things together. Maybe he should watch some gay porn, too. Get some ideas for what to do with his young lover.

Would he be able to keep up with Colton? He certainly wanted to. Colton was inspiring. Nick had already fought off the start of a few inconvenient erections, in the car and at the park and walking home.

“I want to take my time with you tonight,” he finally said, leaning into Colton’s arms as he rested his head on Colton’s shoulder.

He wanted to explore Colton’s body. Learn him head to toe. Learn what made him tremble and gasp, what made his toes curl, what made him scream Nick’s name. What left him breathless and unable to speak.

Colton groaned. Nick felt Colton’s erection, half-hard and growing, but Colton backed away and went to the patio couch, where he poured two glasses of wine and sat, watching Nick.

Before, they’d sat catty-corner with a respectable distance between them as they ate. Now, Colton had set their plates side by side. Their thighs touched, knees brushing, arms gliding against one another as they reached for their wine and shared smiles over dinner. When the steaks were finished, Nick turned toward Colton and took his hand, and they gazed into each other’s eyes as they sipped the last of their wine.

Colton looked awestruck, smiling like he had when they won the national championship. He ran his thumb over Nick’s knuckles as he told Nick stories about growing up in Sugar Land, about the first time he’d picked up a football. His first youth game, age five, when he’d been so excited to get his hands on the ball he ran it all the way down the field in the wrong direction and scored a touchdown on his own team. It was herd ball, though, and no one kept score.

“That was the last time my dad was at a game.” Colton’s thumb went back and forth. “He never came to another one. He never came to anything ever again, in fact.”

“He missed out on an amazing life.”

Colton tried to smile. It faded fast. “I used to think he left because I made that wrong touchdown. That I let him down, at five years old, and he never forgave me.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been trying to win ever since to see if he’ll come back.”

Nick squeezed Colton’s hand hard, so hard his own hand ached almost as much as his heart did. The sun had set, and Colton was lit by the glow of the patio lights, little solar globes that winked on after dark. The golden light caressed Colton’s cheek and one side of his neck, danced in and out of the hard line of his bicep and the shadow of his elbow. He was loose limbed and slouching on the couch, his body angled toward Nick, knees and chest pointed right at Nick’s heart, like he was signaling his play and aiming where he was going to throw the football.

Nick kissed Colton there on the patio, gliding closer until they were in each other’s laps. Colton melted against him, his arms encircling Nick as his lips moved over Nick’s, and their tongues danced while stars rose over the city.

“I dreamed about this,” Colton whispered when Nick pushed him down on the couch and spread out on top of him. “It used to be hard to have dinner out here and not imagine making out with you.”

“You’ll have to tell me if the real thing is as good as what you dreamed.”

“It’s so much better.” Colton’s hands slid through his hair. He kissed Nick slowly, reverently. “I, um.” His gaze skittered beyond Nick, pupils blown wide and traced with gold from the patio lights. “I get tested annually with the team,” he breathed. “And everything came back negative after my last physical.”

Nick didn’t understand, not at first. He frowned.

“And I haven’t been with anyone since then. And, well, you…” Colton said.

Oh. Jesus. He was going to have to think about these things again now that he was divorced, wasn’t he? He thought back, twenty years of physicals in a blur. “Twenty years of negative results for me.”

Colton bit his lip. “We don’t have to worry about knocking each other up, I guess, either.”

Nick laughed. “No, we don’t.” He took Colton’s hand and guided him through the patio door into his bedroom.

They undressed in the darkness, only the little globe lights and the city’s soft midnight casting the faintest flickering glow across the walls. It was just enough to catch a spark inside Colton’s eyes, turn his pupils to flames as they fell into bed.

This time, they went slower, savoring each other. Nick ran his fingers over every inch of Colton’s body. He traced the line of his calf and where his knee met his thigh. Felt the brush of Colton’s leg hair against his palm.

He discovered Colton was ticklish behind his knees when he ran his middle finger up the backs of his legs and that he shivered all over when Nick put his lips on the juncture between his thigh and his hip, where his skin was baby soft. He trailed his tongue around Colton’s hip bones until he found the valley of Colton’s lower back. His ass was as firm and round as basketballs atop his long legs. Nick had always been an ass man, and he spent a long, long time exploring Colton’s, getting both hands on the meat of his cheeks before biting Colton’s pale skin and sucking a hickey on the juiciest curve. Colton was a trembling, quivering wreck by the time Nick kissed his way up each of his vertebrae. He was breathing hard, one arm curled beneath his chest and the other fisted around the base of his cock.

“You’re not supposed to touch yourself,” he whispered in Colton’s ear. “That’s my job.”

“I’m trying not to come,” Colton whimpered. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Roll over, and come in my mouth.”

Colton groaned, flipped to his back, and started coming even before Nick got his lips around his cock. Nick sucked and hummed as Colton spasmed and cried out his name.

Then it was Colton’s turn to explore, and Nick forgot how to breathe as Colton went at him like he was on a personal mission to uncover erogenous zones Nick didn’t know he had. When had his biceps and his belly button become connected to his cock? Why did Colton’s teeth scraping over his pec make his back arch and stars dance behind his eyelids? Had nipple play always made him pant his lover’s name, or was that magic uniquely Colton’s? He was reduced to babbling nonsense while Colton sucked his nipples to diamond nubs, chanting Colton’s name as his cock turned to granite.

Colton was hard again—ah, youth—and Nick wrapped his legs around Colton’s waist and drew their hips together. Colton thrust against him, cursing, his weight balanced on his shaking left arm as he grabbed Nick’s hand with his right.

Twenty years of marriage, a son, a woman he’d thought was the one. All the love he and Cynthia had made, all of it, suddenly paled as Colton breathed his name and kissed his knuckles, as he thrust and his aching cock ground against Nick’s. He was trapped in Colton’s shining eyes and the touch of his lips and the feel of his body.

He came shouting Colton’s name and pulling him down for a kiss. Colton collapsed on his chest as their lips pressed together, and Colton came a second later, his come hot and wet between their bellies.

They breathed each other in when they refused to tear their lips apart, not even to drag in oxygen.

Passion. He’d thought he knew what that meant.

God, he hadn’t had a clue.

Would he be able to let this go when the time came?

He couldn’t think about that, not now. He wrapped his hands around Colton’s jaw and cradled his face, deepening their kiss. He hooked his ankle behind Colton’s knee to keep him close. For the moment, Colton seemed content there, a runaway smile splitting his face as he settled his weight on top of Nick.

Like he wanted to stay.

If only the night would never end, and summer could last an eternity, and he could bottle time in the palms of his hands. Stay in this moment, with Colton kissing him like this, touching him like this. Keep the world at bay. Keep what they were uncovering between them hidden, and safe, and theirs.

If only.