More Than the Ball (11 page)

But I
wanted
him. I needed him. I craved him. I’d thought about this so many times over the past two months, wondered what it would be like to take my time, to have space and privacy and
time
. Just time.

I didn’t pull away.

My arms snaked around his waist and pulled him close against me, my hips canting forward, deliberately rubbing my growing erection against his hip. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound nearly brought me to my knees. That was the soundtrack to my life, the musical theme of my biopic. That sound was everything that was worth hearing in the world, and I wanted to hear it again and again and again until my hearing went and all was silence.

I pulled the back of his shirt up, my need to feel his skin under my fingers overwhelming me, forcing me to obey.

His skin was soft and warm to the touch, and he made a gratifyingly pleased noise into my mouth as my finger tips skimmed along his back.

When I finally broke the kiss, it was only to murmur, “Bedroom?” before diving in again, paying no attention whatsoever to where Elliot was leading me. Content to follow so long as I could keep my hands on his body.

Doors were opened, lights were switched on or off, and then I was on the bed, on my back, with Elliot on top of me, my legs coming up to curl over his hips. Elliot thrust forward, grinding against me, and I sucked in a breath, fingers raking down his back.

“Christ, Dev,” he whispered, lifting his head, and arching his back sharply.

We tugged at each other’s clothes with clumsy hands. I felt like this was my first time instead of his. There were butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me, not when I was so close to the thing I’d been dreaming about since college.

Somehow, we’d gotten naked, and I felt the hot slide of Elliot’s skin against my own, shuddered as the hot length of his cock settled into the crook of my hip. “Fuck,” I breathed. And then, “Fuck me. God, fuck me, El.”

I didn’t often bottom, but I’d been fantasizing about Elliot’s cock in me for the past five years, and in that moment, it was all I could think of.

Elliot pushed himself up, looking down at me, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure? I’ve never...”

“I’m sure,” I said, leaning up to kiss him again, slow and tender, expending my last bit of patience on convincing him I was so, so sure. “Condom?” I breathed when I finally came up for air. “Lube?”

“Lube in the nightstand,” he said. “No condoms...”

“It’s okay,” I said, pushing myself up to look for my pants. “In my pocket...”

Elliot turned to look as well, fishing around on the side of the bed for a moment before coming up with a foil packet.

“Perfect,” I said, laying back to watch him roll it on. When it was in place, I reached for the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer until I found a tube of lubricant. I didn’t want to make him stretch me, not on his first time. Instead, I kept my eyes on his face as I slicked two of my fingers and reached back to plunge them into myself.

I groaned, and Elliot echoed the sound. “Jesus Christ, I have never seen anything so hot,” he declared, and I grinned up at him.

“Oh, it’s going to get better,” I promised.

The look on his face was too good to resist, so I made a bit of a show of stretching myself, fingers twisting and thrusting, pulling all the way out before plunging deep again. I didn’t bottom often, but I was turned on enough that I felt loose and relaxed. It was easy to go from two fingers to three, and Elliot’s whimper of pleasure was more than worth the slight burning stretch I felt.

“Come on, now,” I said, when I couldn’t stand teasing him any longer. I reached for his cock, liberally coating it with lube before wiping my hand on his bedspread and taking hold of his hips, pulling him forward.

He hooked one of my legs over his shoulder as he lined himself up. “Ready?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready for years,” I admitted, and then he started to push.

His cock was a decent length, but it was
thick
, and even with my preparation, it stretched me to the point of discomfort. He worked slowly, though, rocking into me an inch at a time. Gradually, my body opened up to him, and soon enough he was buried deep in me, his hips flush against mine. I tightened my legs around his waist, holding him there a moment, letting both of our bodies adjust.

When he did begin to move, he was slow and smooth, and after a couple thrusts he managed to find just the right angle so that his cock slid straight across my prostate. I groaned and arched, my head falling back. I reached up for him, curling my hand around the back of his neck, and he bent low, making me feel the stretch in my leg as it moved with his shoulder.

And then we were kissing, sloppy, desperate kisses, and Elliot’s thrusts matched them, pushing into me deep and hard, the rhythm increasing until I practically saw stars. My dick pulsed against my belly, but I kept my hands on Elliot’s shoulders. The way he was fucking me, I knew I wouldn’t need anything else to come.

“Fuck, fuck,” Elliot breathed. “God, Dev... I’m almost...”

“Just a little longer,” I pleaded, feeling my orgasm building and spreading. Elliot’s thrusting lost all sense of rhythm, and he pounded into that perfect spot, sending me crashing over the edge with a shout, my body convulsing and tightening around the pulsing cock inside me.

Elliot spilled into the condom a moment later, groaning my name. He collapsed on top of me a moment later, his face buried in my neck.

“God,” he muttered. “God, Dev... amazing.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Yeah, amazing.”

And then jetlag got the best of me, and I was out.

I
slept
long and hard and woke up late in the morning to an empty bed that was still warm from Dev’s body. I curled into the warmth, tugging his pillow into my arms for a moment. When I’d agreed to dinner with Dev, I hadn’t expected it to turn out the way it had, but I had no regrets. Everything about being with Dev had felt right and easy, comfortable in a way I hadn’t been in a long time.

Finally pulling myself out of bed, I tugged on a pair of shorts and padded down the hallway to see what Dev was up to. I found him in the living room, holding a framed picture.

“Morning,” I said, stepping up behind him and sliding my arms around his waist. He was solid and warm and he smelled like sleep and whiskey.

“Morning,” he said, and he leaned back into me just enough to ease the faint nervousness that was threatening to rear its head. “When was this?” he asked, holding up the picture.

It was a photo of Jemma and me in a corn maze in Nebraska. Jemma was beaming at the camera, her hair covered with a fuzzy, knit hat. I was lifting her off her feet from behind. We looked like a catalog couple advertising L.L. Bean’s casual fall collection. “That’s from when Jemma came home with me for Thanksgiving.” I pressed a kiss to Dev’s neck, and he set the picture down.

“What about this one?” he asked, picking up another. This one was at the beach, Jemma looked stunning in a simple, black bikini, and I was posing like an idiot, flexing my arms. Jemma held onto one of them, laughing.

“Ibiza. Last spring.”

Dev didn’t pull away from me, but he wasn’t leaning against my chest anymore. “Where is she now?”

I kissed his shoulder and let my hands rest on his hips, wanting to keep the contact but feeling a sudden distance between us. “She’s got a flat in Chelsea. A friend of her mom’s was looking to sublet.”

“There’s... a lot of pictures of her here,” Dev pointed out. I pulled back with a frown.

“We were together a long time,” I said. “She’s still one of my closest friends.”

Dev nodded, turning to look at me. “You never said why you broke up.”

“You kissed me,” I said. There was so much more I wanted to say: You kissed me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You kissed me and I wanted more. You kissed me and something cracked inside me.

It all seemed too much too soon, so I left it there.

Dev nodded, and when I pulled him close again, he let his head rest on my shoulder. It was so comfortable and yet so different to what I’d been used to for the past five years. It had been so easy to forget what this felt like, but the feeling of his body pressed against mine brought back so many memories.

I bent to kiss him, slow and lazy, my hands sliding from his hips back to his ass, hitching him closer. He pushed my shoulders gently back.

“I have a meeting this morning,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And don’t you have practice?”

“Late start,” I said, sneaking another kiss onto his smooth throat.

“Well, I’ve got an early one,” he said, taking a step back. “And all my clothes are at my hotel.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t think about that last night.”

“I don’t think either of us were thinking about much last night.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Dev shook his head. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what had changed between last night and this morning, but it was like I could feel him slipping through my fingers, and I didn’t know how to bring him back.

He disappeared down the hall to the bedroom, and I turned with a frown to the set of pictures he’d been looking at. When Jemma had first moved out, I’d thought of taking them down, but somehow that didn’t seem fair to her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and I didn’t want to cut her out of my life.

I picked up a digital frame that she’d set up to cycle through pictures from our weekend in the Lake District. It had sounded like such a prim and proper vacation when she’d suggested it, and I’d pictured sitting around a tennis court, sipping tea and nibbling scones. Instead, all the pictures were of us hiking through the mountains. We’d had so much fun on that trip.

Dev cleared his throat behind me, and I turned to see him dressed and standing awkwardly by the entrance hall. I put down the picture and crossed over to him.

“Sure you can’t stay?” I asked. “Your clothes look fine. Barely wrinkled.”

“I wore them yesterday,” he pointed out. “I’m sure someone at the BBC will notice.”

“Fine,” I said, faking a pout that made him laugh.

“Is that a pout? When has that ever worked on me, Gates?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

He lifted a hand to touch my cheek, his fingers cool against my skin. “There certainly seems to be.” On impulse, I turned my face to kiss his fingers, and his smile became wistful.

“Dinner tonight, or are you schmoozing with the TV bigwigs?”

He chuckled softly, his hand falling to my shoulder. “I think I can manage dinner. Seven work for you, hot shot?”

“Seven, hmm... I’ll have to check my calendar. Yep. Works for me.” I affirmed, teasing, and he just looked at me for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I wanted so much more, but I could be content with that for now.

He pulled away, and I walked him to the door, holding it open for him. “See you tonight,” he said, as he turned to go.

“See you.”

I was just about to close the door when I heard his voice down the hall. “Hey, El?”

“Yeah?” I said, poking my head out.

“I’m glad I misdialed you.”

I couldn’t have stopped the grin spreading across my face even if I wanted to. “I’m glad too, man.”

D
ev came
over for dinner that night. We got takeaway Chinese, and got wasted on wine watching
The Princess Bride
before crashing in my bed.

He stayed over the next night as well, and the night after that.

On the third night, he checked out of his hotel and brought his things to the flat. “Seemed like a waste to be running back every morning just to change,” he said as I handed him a key to use for the week.

“Yeah, well, don’t be expecting the Swedish massage service here unless you wanna go see Mrs. Hennessey about it.”

“Can I at least get a full English,” he asked, and I gave him my cheesiest grin.

“You can get the full American.”

“What’s in a full American?”

“It’s just like the full English, but instead of eggs, sausage, beans, tomatoes and mushrooms, you get a naked soccer player and a blowjob.”

“I think I like that one better.”

“I thought you might,” I said, pulling him in close in a way that had become so natural over the past few days that it was hard to believe it had ever been strange. “We pride ourselves on our service here at Casa Gates.”

His arms looped around my shoulders. “I’ll be sure to leave an excellent review.”

“You do that.”

O
n Thursday
, Dev invited me to come meet him for lunch. When I got to their set, he wasn’t quite finished, but a PA let me into the sound stage. I did my best to stay out of the way, but I couldn’t resist finding a spot where I could watch Dev.

He looked fucking hot sitting in his director’s chair. He was looking over the last take, bent over his screen, his face tense with concentration. He called Colin over and had a short, muttered conversation, then he carried his tablet over to one of the actresses and showed her the screen, talking it over with her.

When he settled back into his chair and called action again, I watched his face. He was focused again on the screen, and there was a moment, something almost insignificant that the actress did that brought a faint smile to his lips.

When the scene ended, he nodded to Colin and got off his chair. “Cut! That’s a wrap, everyone. See you after lunch!”

He had another quiet conversation with Colin before he looked up and saw me. His smirk widened to a grin, and he strode over to me. “Hi, hey!” he said, giving me a quick hug. “How long have you been here.”

“Not long,” I told him. “Just the last couple takes.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I just wanted to get that last shot.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked. “I fucking love watching you work. It’s awesome.”

Dev tilted his head, regarding me carefully. “Well... good. I’m glad. You wanna get some lunch?” he asked, nodding toward the catering truck. “BBC does a good spread.”

“Sounds good. This is so cool,” I added, knowing I sounded giddy. It was just so good to see him like this. I’d always known he was talented, but I didn’t really know anything about film. I was glad all the people who did were finally seeing it too.

“Never been on a film set?”

“I never see anything but the pitch, man.”

“Yeah,” Dev said with a smile. “But that’s all you want see.”

I matched his smile. “Maybe not all.”

S
aturday was
Dev’s last night in London. He had meetings all day, and I had a match that afternoon, but there was no way I was going to let him leave without one more night together, whatever came of it.

He’d been acting a little strange all week, but even with that, I didn’t remember a time I’d been happier. I had the job I loved, and I was seeing someone I, if not loved, at least
wanted,
every night.

And if Dev had been strange during the day, he’d been nothing but attentive at night. I didn’t think there was a place on my body he hadn’t touched; I wasn’t sure there were any on his I hadn’t explored.

It was like we were trying to cram five years of sex into one week, to make up for all the missed opportunities.

I thought, briefly, of taking him out, getting dinner somewhere nice. But I realized I didn’t know how to do that with a guy. Was that too romantic? Did I even want romantic? Besides, I didn’t want to have to keep my hands off him all night, and me at a romantic dinner with a mysterious American man was sure to make the
Sun,
if not the
Daily Mail.

Anyway, Dev and I had never really gone out. We’d met at a pub a few times, gone to parties in college, but most of our time together was spent on the field or on the couch. Why should tonight be any different?

I picked up pizza on my way home, and barely paused when Mrs. Hennessey stuck her head out to tell me, “Your young man’s already in, lovie.”

“Thanks, Lizzie!” I called as I passed. I thought I heard her faint behind me.

I nearly fell through the door when Dev opened it before I could even get my key out. Luckily, he was quick enough to catch the six-pack of Carlsberg before it went flying since my attention was on the pizza.

“Jesus, man,” I said, stumbling a little but catching the pie.

“Whoops, sorry,” Dev said, laughing through his sheepish smile. “Didn’t know you were carrying supplies.”

It was impossible not to kiss that smile, so I did.

Dev grinned as he pulled away, holding up the beer. “Carlsberg?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And pineapple, cherry pepper, sausage pizza. Just like back when we used to drink illegal beer and pretend we were Wayne Rooney and-”