The Quarterback by Tal Bauer

Chapter Eighteen

Knocking brokeNick’s third reverie of the afternoon.

He’d been remembering how Colton had looked at him in bed the night before, after they got back from the airport. How Colton’s fingers had played in his hair as he kissed Nick slowly, how their hips seemed to move as one, hard cock grinding against hard cock, almost like they were making love.

He shifted, trying to put Colton and what they were doing out of his mind. He needed to focus. “What’s up?”

Colton slipped in as if Nick’s thoughts had summoned him. He shut the door behind himself. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He couldn’t help it. He smiled and came across his office to squeeze Colton’s waist and drop a kiss to his lips. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“We had lunch an hour ago.” He kissed Colton again. “Together.”

Colton’s eyes were sly, his lips twisting as he fought a smile. “I had an idea about something, and I wanted to run it by you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Come sit down.” Colton led him to his couch and guided him to sit in the center. But instead of joining him, Colton sank to his knees in front of Nick. He put his hands on Nick’s knees and spread his thighs.

“Colton—”

“Shh.” Colton unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. “Jim is in his office, and Lizbeth is outside the door. You don’t want them to hear, do you?”

He tried to stifle his groan as Colton opened his fly and put both hands down his pants. Colton wrapped his fingers around Nick’s cock, cupped his balls. Nick had been soft less than a minute ago, but Colton’s presence, his touch, that mischievous light in his eyes as he stared up at Nick were enough to make him dizzy, all his blood rushing south. His cock grew hard, painfully hard, jutting from his crotch.

Colton hooked the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls. “Fuck, yes,” he breathed. His calloused thumb rolled over Nick’s cock head, spreading a pearl of precome. Nick jerked, and he bit his lip as he grabbed the couch cushions. Colton dragged his hands up under Nick’s dress shirt, sliding his fingers over the fur on his chest. He kneaded Nick’s pecs, fingertips brushing the nubs of Nick’s nipples. They were as sensitive as they’d been the first time Colton had put his lips and his tongue on them, shocking Nick with bolts of lightning that seemed to arc through him and circle the base of his cock.

Now, Colton dragged his fingernails over Nick’s nipple at the same time he ran his tongue from the root of Nick’s cock all the way to its swollen head.

Nick forced a moan back down his throat. His heels dug into the carpet, and the couch leather squealed in his white-knuckled grasp. He stared at Colton, not breathing, trying to memorize the moment.

Colton’s lips closed around his cock.

Nick tried to breathe, but his lungs could only drag in shallow pants. Fire burned beneath his skin. He wanted to thrust into Colton’s mouth. He wanted to sink his hands into Colton’s hair. Colton was insatiable, his greedy tongue everywhere, swirling around the head of Nick’s cock and then sliding down the shaft, pressing into Nick’s steely hardness on Colton’s upward suck. He hummed, and Nick shuddered and then went electric as Colton took him all the way down the back of his throat. His thighs quaked as everything inside him melted. His cock throbbed, and he could feel precome flowing from him, a river of it, filling Colton’s mouth and making everything impossibly hotter.

He grasped the back of Colton’s head and thrust into his throat. Colton’s silky hair slipped through his fingers. He was buried to his balls in Colton’s mouth. Colton’s eyes were watering, his face was red, and spit poured out from around his lips, soaking Nick’s crotch and his balls. Colton’s pupils were blown wide, as sex-drunk as Nick had ever seen him. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he moaned around Nick’s cock.

The world went thin, like a balloon about to burst. Nick was on the edge, barely holding on. Colton’s hands were still beneath his shirt, and he grabbed both of Nick’s nipples and pinched, hard.

Nothing could stop his orgasm after that. He threw his head back, clenched his teeth, and dug his fingers into Colton’s scalp as his balls exploded and he came, and came, and came down Colton’s throat. Colton kept swallowing—God, swallowing every drop—as Nick’s orgasm rolled on and on.

He whimpered, falling forward over Colton, whose lips and mouth were still suctioned to Nick’s softening cock.

Finally, Colton sucked his way off Nick’s spent dick, mouth coming off the head with a pop. He sat back and grinned, breathing hard, his hands gliding down Nick’s body until they squeezed his thighs. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” Jesus, his voice was husky. Cock-ruined.

Nick lunged at him, kissing him desperately as his knees hit the floor in front of Colton. He could taste himself inside Colton’s mouth, feel the scalding slickness of his come still lingering on Colton’s tongue.

He spun Colton around and pressed him facedown across the coffee table in front of his couch. Colton’s breath pushed out of him as he landed on his belly, his hips at the edge of the glass and his ass perfectly positioned in front of Nick’s face.

In less than a second, he had Colton’s belt undone, his fly unzipped, his pants and boxers pulled down to his thighs. Exposing that perfect, round ass. One cheek filled each of his palms. He squeezed, hard. Muscle and flesh flexed under his fingers. Colton groaned.

Nick shot forward, his body covering Colton’s. “Shh,” he breathed against Colton’s cheek. “You have to be quiet.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Then shove your tie in your mouth.” He squeezed Colton’s ass again, two handfuls of glorious, thick quarterback. “Bite down when you scream.”

Colton grabbed his tie and stuffed the teal silk between his teeth. Nick kissed the corner of his eye with trembling lips. “My turn,” he whispered, “to do something I’ve been dreaming of.” Colton was unlocking doors inside him, thoughts and feelings he’d buried in the deepest spaces of his mind. Desires. Hungers. He’d always been an ass man. He’d never had this fine of an ass in front of him.

Nick slithered back, settling between Colton’s widespread thighs. He heard a soft, muffled moan, felt Colton’s body start to shake as his forehead dropped. His ass cheeks clenched and released, the dimples on each appearing and then vanishing, playing peekaboo with Nick.

He sank his teeth into the curve of Colton’s ass, biting down as if it were a summer-ripened peach. He latched on to Colton’s smooth skin, sucking until Colton gasped and one of his hands flew sideways, knocking two pens to the carpet.

“Okay?” Nick whispered, kissing the hickey he’d placed on Colton’s left ass cheek.

Colton nodded. A soft groan drifted from where Colton had hidden his face against the glass tabletop. His eyes were squeezed tight, and the hand that had knocked over the pens grasped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white and blue.

Nick spread Colton’s ass cheeks slowly, watching Colton for any reaction. A flicker of fear, of hesitation. He waited.

Colton looked back at him over his shoulder. Lust burned in his eyes, slamming into Nick.

Nick buried his face between Colton’s cheeks and slicked his tongue over Colton’s hot, tight hole.

Colton whimpered into the tie as he jerked so hard the table slid forward three inches. Nick followed, face deep in Colton’s ass with his tongue fluttering over Colton’s hole and tracing his puckered skin. His tongue slipped in and out of Colton, tasting the innermost part of his lover.

Ecstasy flooded Nick along with the taste of Colton, his musky, heady maleness. He’d been fantasizing about Colton’s ass since their first weekend, when his eyes had opened to what they could become. Colton was gorgeous, physical perfection—at least, to Nick—and no small part of that was due to his thick ass. He hadn’t known whether what he wanted went too far, though. Would Colton want to let Nick put his mouth on him, on his most private part? Let Nick push his tongue inside Colton’s tight, aching heat?

God, he tasted perfect. Nick groaned and sucked on Colton’s hole.

Colton’s tie muffled his moans. His arms, his shoulders were shaking. His thighs spread wider, and he ground his ass into Nick’s face, humping Nick’s mouth. Nick dug his fingers into Colton’s cheeks and slithered his tongue as far inside Colton as he could reach.

Colton keened, shuddering and bucking backward as his ass cheeks flexed hard around Nick’s face and his hole squeezed down on Nick’s tongue. He tried to say something, but the sound was lost in his gag. A moment later, come shot out of Colton’s cock, spattering the underside of Nick’s glass table and the carpet.

Nick stroked him through the end of his orgasm, keeping Colton’s quivers and jerks and agonized moans going until he was truly spent, limp in Nick’s palm.

Only then did he pull his tongue away from Colton’s saliva-soaked hole.

He kissed Colton’s ass cheek again, on the hickey he’d left. He was tender this time, almost chaste, if he could even think that word after he’d just devoured Colton’s ass like a four-course meal. He could taste Colton’s musk on his lips and deep on his tongue. His hands were still holding Colton’s cheeks, still spreading him open, still kneading his firm flesh. And Colton was still lying over his coffee table, his spit-soaked tie half in his mouth. Heavy, hard pants from his nose fogged the glass in steady echoes of condensation.

“Colton…” Shame grew inside Nick. He wiped his face with both hands, then ran his shaking palms down his suit pants. His clothes were ruined. He smelled like sex. Looked like sex. “I’m sorry.” God, he sounded like he’d just had sex, too. Like he’d just had a massive orgasm and then tried his damnedest to give an equally massive one to his lover. Nick’s hand trailed up Colton’s spine as Colton slid off the coffee table. “Was that… too far?” Fear sluiced through Nick, freezing away the lust that had nearly burned him alive. His heart jackhammered as Colton shimmied back into his boxers and suit pants and collapsed beside him on the floor. He pulled his ruined tie from his neck and wrapped it around one of his hands.

“Don’t apologize.” Colton’s voice was still husky, still lost in the depths of lust and a cock ravaging his throat. “Don’t apologize for that. Fuck, Nick… I loved it.” Crimson stained Colton’s cheeks.

“I loved it, too.” He leaned into Colton’s shoulder. God, he could still taste Colton. He licked his lips, chasing the flavor of his lover.

Colton laughed softly. His cheeks were still a deep burgundy. He unwound his tie slowly. Ran his fingers over the bite barks in the silken fabric. “I mean, it was a huge surprise. I didn’t think you would want stuff like that.”

“Hey.” Nick took Colton’s chin in his hand. He waited, and finally, Colton’s gaze rose. Wide, uncertain eyes flickered to him and then away. “I want this,” Nick whispered. “I want to be with you. Yes, everything with you is new and different, but I’m not disgusted by any of it. Can’t you tell how much you turn me on?”

“Everyone likes blow jobs.”

“I like you more than I like blow jobs.” He kissed Colton, and Colton melted into him, moaning as he kissed Nick back, dropping his tie, pushing his hands into Nick’s hair and caressing his scalp. Colton shivered, sweet, soft moans falling from his lips.

Careful. Danger. Surely this was all Colton wanted. Stolen moments, high heat and strangled gasps and so much pleasure it crawled through his veins, still buzzed under his skin. NFL players don’t have older men as lovers. College quarterbacks don’t date their friend’s father.

Could he stop himself from falling for Colton, though?

* * *

Their lives had settledinto a steady routine as the summer began to wane. Colton tacked a calendar to Nick’s refrigerator door with the date football camp began circled in red, and he marked each day that passed with a big X. They ran together in the gym before work a few days a week, and every evening, they played catch in the park with Colton’s football. Sometimes they just sat on the lawn and watched the sun set and the stars come out, talking instead of throwing the football for another few hours. There was a workout schedule beneath the calendar on the fridge, and Nick had peeked at it once. It seemed like a lot of work for a healing athlete, and so much activity that Colton would need to be in the gym or on the field throwing the football all day, never mind his internship. What had Colton said about his previous summers? All football, all the time. He’d spent weeks with Wes learning new offensive systems one summer. Another summer perfecting his accuracy, hurling footballs from every yard line in the stadium to fixed targets in the end zone. Stadium stair climbs, miles and miles ground out beneath his running shoes, pounding the pavement all over Austin. So much weight lifting he started counting everything he did like he was counting reps. Steps in the grocery store, or scrubs with the soap in the shower.

He wasn’t doing any of that now. Instead, he was smiling at Nick over a glass of wine. Laughing as they ate on his balcony, sharing stories back and forth. Holding Nick’s hand or laying his head on Nick’s thigh as they played PlayStation or watched TV.

Was that a problem? Was Nick a distraction? How many coaches over the years, across sports teams from every league, had warned athletes of the dangers of lust? Distraction, a lack of focus. Thinking with the wrong head.

Nick wanted to do more for Colton. Be a better training partner. Was Colton not doing everything on the workout schedule because he knew Nick couldn’t possibly keep up with him? If he couldn’t keep up in the gym, he could at least be better at the park. But every time he promised himself he’d be more disciplined, he melted in the face of Colton’s smile, turned into every opportunity to come together, stop passing the ball, be at Colton’s side. He was so damn hungry—greedy—for Colton, all the time.

Besides, how much longer would he have Colton’s attention? The start of a new football season loomed, time marked off on his fridge door calendar. A parade of days, a shortening summer, the end of which surely meant the end of them.

Day by day. Focus on what he had. Don’t reach ahead for a future you aren’t in a hurry to meet.

There was too much looming beyond the summer’s sunset. Colton’s exuberance at getting back into football shape was the first step on a long, painful road toward goodbye, and there were a dozen heartaches forming on the horizon. Their tiny world was going to expand. Colton would be back with his team and with his friends. Back with Wes and—

Nick took a shaky breath as the football slammed into his palms. Colton had just sent him another bull’s-eye. His accuracy was getting better. His range was limited, as was his power, but he never missed when he sent the football sailing Nick’s way down the grassy lawn of Zilker Park. Nick fired the ball back, giving it a higher arch than Colton had so Colton could catch the ball in the basket of his arms and not have to reach up.

His thoughts kept tumbling, refusing to stay quiet.

Justin was coming home in a few weeks.

Would he and Colton still be together then?

He didn’t want to think about it too deeply, but he had to be pragmatic about how things were going to go. Surely Colton would be moving back to the jock house soon. The remaining days of them sharing Nick’s condo were fewer than those that had already passed. And once Colton left, how often would he come back, when he had his friends and his teammates back in his life? Why would he come hang out with Nick when he had parties to go to and friends to be with, and fans who were dazzled by him?

NFL players—future NFL players—didn’t have older guys as lovers.

No, Colton would be taking his clothes and his shoes and his PlayStation and leaving. The toothbrush and deodorant and razor he’d moved from Justin’s bathroom to Nick’s would vanish. How fast would Nick’s sheets stop smelling like Colton? How long would it take for his second pillow to lose the round hollow where Colton laid his head at night?

No one knew about them. Colton might have sneaked a kiss out in Lubbock, but he’d kept his hands and his lips to himself when they were in public. Colton had a lot of reasons for not telling the world he was sleeping with a man. This was never going to be something Colton publicized. He was never going to hold Nick’s hand while they were walking down the street.

He was never going to stay.

When Colton left and this thing between them faded and died, no one else was going to know what they’d been. What they became beneath the summer sun and how they burned down the July moon.

If no one knew and no one was going to know, and if their future was finite, the end rising before him like a summer-soaked heat haze, then… did he ever tell Justin?

The thought paralyzed him. His lungs refused to work and his heart refused to beat. Panic ran through him, pure adrenaline racing hot and quicksilver in his veins when he even came near the idea.

He had no idea how his son would react. No idea what he would think or say. Months ago, Nick had patted himself on the back and congratulated himself on how close he was with Justin. How much he’d done to repair their relationship and how well he knew Justin. He knew the name of his dance company and his favorite ballets, knew his work schedule and the names of his colleagues. Knew Wes, had met his friends and his professors. He knew his son. He’d been cocky, so assured of how he’d clawed his way up the good dad chart.

None of that helped him try to guess how Justin would take the news that Nick had tumbled into bed with a guy. With his boyfriend’s best friend. With his own friend.

Would he be disgusted? Justin could be critical, sharply so, of things he disagreed with. What did he think of dads sleeping with their sons’ friends? What did he think of a two-decade age difference?

Would he see how happy Nick was with Colton? How Colton’s smile became a whirlpool he was caught in, but that he was more than happy to spin around him for the rest of his days? Or as long as he was allowed to call Colton his.

Would Justin be confused? Nick didn’t have answers to Why and How and What the fuck. The closest he came was Colton’s gruff, soul-wracked reasoning in the car after that morning in Houston: when you feel like you’re falling for someone, does it matter if they’re a guy or a girl?

Or your son’s friend?

Would it be kinder to Colton to keep his mouth shut? Keep this secret between them and cherish the memories of these moments when he saw the headlines in the future? NFL Quarterback Colton Hall and Wife Welcome Daughter. If he closed his eyes, he could picture that future so clearly: Colton with a beautiful woman on his arm. He’d look at her like he looked at Nick right now, smiling with those huge dimples turned all the way up. He’d have three or four kids, and he’d be an amazing father. He was made to love other people.

Every day, Nick looked at the photos his son sent—Justin happy, Justin in love, Justin having the time of his life—and wanted to turn himself inside out. I thought I was brave. I thought I knew how to pick right and wrong, Justin.

But if Colton was leaving, then maybe he didn’t tell Justin about them, because if he did… Well, he wasn’t at all confident Justin would react beautifully. Maybe he’d be disgusted. Maybe he’d be furious. Nick just didn’t know… and he was scared to find out. Terrified, too, that it would be the end of his closeness with his son, that their tender new relationship couldn’t hold if he confessed he’d fallen for Colton. Justin’s friend, Wes’s best friend. He could lose Justin because his heart had run away with his mind.

Ultimately, he was going to lose Colton to time, because there was no way Colton would stay with him. Colton wouldn’t trade all his dreams away just because Nick told him that his smile now lived in his heart.

Lose Colton. Lose Justin. Lose them both?

He had no idea what to do. He was torn between what he should do and what he could do, between the son he loved and a man he thought he could. Torn, too, between time and secrets and trying to figure out what was best for everyone. Did he owe Justin more than he owed Colton? On one level, definitely. But… should Justin know everything about his life? If he’d pledged to be open with his son, what did it mean if he kept this from him? Could Justin ever truly know him if he didn’t know how hard Nick’s heart pounded for Colton? Where was the line between fathers and sons? What would Justin say if Nick showed Justin his heart and Justin found Colton there?

Too many thoughts grinding against each other. His mind would pulverize him if he let it. Day by day, he repeated to himself. He said it to his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and he said it when he stared out his office window, and he said it when he clung to consciousness, trying to hold on to the day, and watched Colton dream. He didn’t want to go to sleep because it meant he’d be one more day closer to when Colton shifted into his past and out of his future.

Day by day by day.

He sent the ball sailing back to Colton again right as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. Most calls he sent to voicemail. Next to nothing interrupted his time with Colton. It had to be an emergency, or someone he couldn’t push off, to tear him away. Colton had become his priority in ways he tried not to think about too closely.

He blinked at the phone screen. Riley Kimbrough was calling.

He held up his hand, signaling to Colton to pause their game as he swiped to answer. Fifteen yards away, Colton’s head cocked sideways. He turned away. “Hello?”

“Nick.”

Kimbrough’s tone hit him like a slap. His back went ramrod straight. “Riley? What’s wrong?”

“Something terrible happened, Nick.” Kimbrough sighed.

He heard Colton jogging up behind him, sneakers shuffling through the grass until he stopped at Nick’s shoulder. He passed the ball back and forth in his hands as he stared at Nick’s profile.

“There was an accident at one of the rigs this morning. Guy got hurt real bad. I don’t think you know this, but all of my sons have worked on these rigs, and now my grandsons are starting their years out there, too. The guy who got bit this morning… He was one of my grandson Luke’s best friends.”

Colton was close enough now to hear every word. His huge eyes rose and met Nick’s. They stared at each other.

“I’m sorry. Is he… Is he going to be—” Nick’s throat clenched.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. He was hurt bad, real bad. The kind of injury where every second counts. And thanks to you and your network, my guys were able to get the right emergency care to him as quick as they could. So he’s gonna live. It’s gonna be a long road for him, but he’s gonna live. Thanks to you.”

Nick’s eyes blurred and his lungs seized, and the only sound that came out of him was a strangled kind of gasp. “Riley—”

“You need to know, Nick, what kind of impact you’re having. I may be shoveling millions into your company for this private mobile network, but when days like today happen, I’d give you ten times what I’m paying. A hundred times. Your network saved a man’s life today, and it’s going to again. You need to know that.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t speak.

“I gotta go. I’m at the hospital. I’ll talk to you soon. Say hello to Colton for me.” Kimbrough hung up before Nick could say anything.

Nick dropped his phone to his side and shut his eyes. Colton closed the distance between them, standing so close Nick could feel Colton’s heartbeat pounding against his bicep, where his skin pressed against Colton’s chest.

They were in public, damn it. If they weren’t, he’d turn to his lover, wrap his arms around Colton’s waist, and sag against his chest. He’d feel Colton’s arms around him, too, because he needed to feel those arms right now and Colton always knew what he needed. His shoulders quaked. Damn it, he wanted to reach for Colton so badly.

Colton snaked an arm around his shoulders and tugged him into a sideways hug. “You saved someone’s life today.”

“No. I’m just a salesman. I’m just a tech guy. I don’t—”

Colton turned him until his forehead ground against Colton’s neck. His lips brushed Colton’s collarbone, over the neckline of his T-shirt.

There were a hundred people in the park, and Colton had one arm thrown around him. His shudders turned to trembles, then to all-out shaking, and he buried his face in the meat of Colton’s chest as he gripped Colton’s T-shirt in both of his fists, right over his belly, hidden between their bodies.

“Didn’t I tell you you were amazing?” Colton whispered.

Nick shook his head. “Doctors saved his life. His friends saved his life.”

“You were the first link in that chain.” Colton’s lips pushed against his hair, a there-and-then-gone, quicker-than-a-blink kiss. “If your network wasn’t there…”

If anyone took more than a second glance at them both, their secret—Colton’s secret—would be blown open. He couldn’t let that happen. Stepping away from Colton would be like ripping off a scab, though. He left his hands fisted in Colton’s T-shirt for too long, but he just couldn’t let go.

“Want to go home?” Colton asked.

They were supposed to toss the ball around for another hour or so, but yes, he did want to go home. He wanted to go where they could be together. Where Colton could hold him, and he could listen to Colton’s heartbeat, and he could press his face into Colton’s chest and forget about the world and mobile networks and what he needed to say to Justin or anyone else. He wanted—needed—Colton.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

But… “Yes.” He needed Colton, damn it. Needed that understanding and the way he looked at Nick. Needed him.

“Then let’s get out of here.”