More Than the Ball (4 page)

I wasn’t about to complain, though, not when he looked straight up into my eyes and
swallowed
around the tip of my cock in his throat, humming vibrations around my shaft.

“Fuck, Jordan,” I gasped, my grip in his hair holding him in place for a moment before I released, tugging him back to allow him to breathe.

He took a shuddering breath and smiled up at me, a pleased, almost drugged smile. That and the hand lazily stroking his own dick were enough evidence that he didn’t mind not being able to breathe for a moment.

“I thought about that,” he teased, his voice rough. “But I wasn’t sure we had time.”

“We don’t,” I agreed, laughing breathlessly and taking hold of his hair again, guiding him back to my erection. “So let’s not waste any.”

He only had a moment to grin before his lips were wrapping around my cock again. As the wet heat of his mouth moved over me, I looked around the space, closing my eyes a moment to picture it as I’d known it: teammates scattered around under showerheads, towels draped haphazardly over various walls and benches, me trying not to stare too much at all the smooth, hard flesh washing away a sheen of sweat under a steaming spray.

I thought briefly of Elliot, as well. Remembered how he’d looked under the shower, idly soaping himself up as we chatted about the game, when all the time I just wanted to shove him back against the tiled wall and drop to my knees and do to him exactly what Jordan was doing to me now. The image in my mind shifted until it was Elliot in front of me, green eyes staring up at me, his strong hands curling around my hips, encouraging me impossibly deeper until I couldn’t hold back any longer, and I came with a rough shout, fingers twisting in his hair.

I was brought back to the present by Jordan’s huffed laugh, and I looked down to see him sprawled in front of me, his hand still wrapped around his spent cock, skin flushed from exertion and the heat of the water. “Fuck, babe,” he said. “You really let me have it.”

Remembering how far gone I’d been, I suddenly worried I’d hurt him, and I dropped next to him on the tiled floor. “Did I... are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, settling against me with a happy sigh. “That was... really hot.”

We stayed that way for a long moment, and then Jordan lifted his head, smiling over to where the camera was still rolling. “Man, I can’t wait to watch the replay.”

Our laughter echoed along with the sound of the shower, floating down the corridor.

“
J
emma
!” I had to yell over the phone to be heard over the cheering and hollering in the stands. “Jemma! We did it! We won. We fucking won!”

“That’s great, love!” Jemma’s voice sounded tinny and far away, but she was sincere, I thought. “I saw the injury time. I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, babe!” I didn’t plan on talking long, no point, really, not with Ferrars screaming in my ear about my last minute goal. “I gotta go,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you.”

“Of course. Go celebrate with the lads. I love you!”

I could barely hear her over the chanting of fans booming across the pitch. It didn’t seem likely to let up soon. “Me too! See you soon!”

“Bloody amazing!” came a shout from my right before I was tackled by Collins. I only just managed to tuck the phone away before he smashed it in his enthusiasm. Around me, most of the lads were being hugged or kissed or both by wives, girlfriends, and mothers.

I’d known Jemma couldn’t be here today. She’d had an important conference for work. Still, there was a sinking feeling in my chest as, one by one, the others met up with the women in their lives, leaving me on my own.

“Coming to the club?” Ferrars asked, his arm slung around the shoulders of the girl he’d been going with lately.

“Yeah, maybe later,” I said, though I didn’t really think I would. It wasn’t as much fun without Jemma. Especially not when one of the lads was almost always trying to get me to take someone else home.

Maybe Jemma’s and my relationship wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t mean I was looking for someone else, and I could never hurt her like that. I’d never forgive myself.

I got home around midnight, when all was said and done, and the media were through with me, and got a beer from the fridge. Sitting down in the recliner, I put my feet up and was just about to pop the television on when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and Dev’s name flashed. We were still Facebook friends, and he’d been imported into my contacts at some point.

I thumbed the call open. “Hello?”

“Hey, Elliot? It’s Dev.”

I had known it was him, but I still felt a weird tightening in my chest like it was a surprise, though perhaps not a bad one. “Oh! Hey, man! How are you?”

“Awesome, man. Really, really, good. I was back on campus picking up some footage for the film, and I kept thinking about you.”

There was a pause while I tried to come up with an answer. Dev had been thinking about me. I wondered who would come to mind for me if I went back to visit. Probably Dev, if I was honest with myself.

“Anyway,” Dev said, clearing his throat softly. “I needed to talk to you about a couple things before we get to the interview, so I figured... might as well call. Do you have a minute?”

“Yes. Perfect timing actually. Just got home to an empty flat.”

“Are you turning British on me, Gates?” Dev teased, and the tightness in my chest eased a little as I relaxed into the couch under the influence of my former roommate’s smooth, even voice. Dev’s voice had always been calming, even on the pitch.

“No chance,” I said, laughing. “I’m as ‘Merican as they come.”

Dev laughed as well. “Glad to hear it. How’s the game been treating you?”

“So good, man.” It was the one thing in my life that was still working out how I’d planned.

“Speaking of which, nice last minute goal, killer.”

“Yeah! You saw that?” For some reason, Dev watching me play made the win feel even better.

“I thought I should do my homework before calling.” His voice sounded a little beat, and I wondered what he’d been up to that was wearing him out so much. Work? Dev had always loved filmmaking. It energized him if anything.

“Well, you know what I’ve been up to,” I said. “What’s on your plate?”

“Just this documentary right now. I have a project lined up for when I finish, but we’re not even in pre-production on it yet,” Dev’s voice was warm and rich, like he was on the verge of falling asleep, like in all our late night conversations about stupidly profound ideas in college. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that voice until I found myself sinking into the couch, closing my eyes to listen.

“You said you were on campus?”

“Yeah,” Dev answered, perking up a bit. “A couple days ago. It was weird but cool, you know?”

“Yeah.” I paused, thinking about how surreal that must have been. “You see anybody we know?”

“Mmhm.” I heard him shifting and imagined him curling up in the corner of the couch like he had when we were roommates, a blanket wrapped tightly around him, his knees practically drawn up to his chin. “Adamian and Lewis and Coach.”

“Coach was there?”

“Yeah, I ran into him when I was getting footage of the locker room.”

“Man, I wish I’d been there.”

“I wish you had too,” Dev said, and it hurt a little to know I hadn’t been. “Jordan didn’t really get it, you know?”

“Jordan?”

“Boyfriend.”

The word fell like an anvil, and I couldn’t answer right away.

“Sorry,” Dev said. “I thought you knew.”

“That you have a boyfriend?”

“That I’m gay. I kind of told you. You were... the first person I kind of told.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t realized that, but of course I was. It made sense when I thought about it. “Well... I knew you were gay. I just... didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Dev laughed, and I could tell he wasn’t offended. “Well, I do. His name is Jordan. He’s too young for me, too superficial for me, and too ambitious for me, but he gives fucking amazing head.”

I laughed, because I was too surprised not to. “Well. That’s a handy skill for a boyfriend to have.”

“It is,” Dev agreed, laughing at my surprise. “Though he shows it off at the strangest times.”

“Okay... the images in my head are...”

“Amazingly hot?”

“Disturbing. I might need some context.”

“He blew me in the locker room showers.”

I laughed again, though it was less of a surprise this time. Dev had always been pretty frank about things like this. “He didn’t!” I was still laughing, but there was a strange part of me that seemed to wake up at the thought of being in those showers with Dev. With Dev’s cock in my mouth, with my hands cupping Dev’s balls, teasing them. I wondered if Dev had heard the jealousy in my voice.

“He did. And he filmed it. It was pretty hot, honestly, but I’ve had hotter.” I couldn’t help wondering if Dev meant that one time. It had been so long ago, but as I listened to Dev’s voice, it was almost like I could feel Dev’s fingers stroking my stomach, playing with the curls at the base of my cock. I could feel Dev’s mouth, hot around me.

I’d thought about it a few times since that night. I’d seen other guys and thought about them on their knees, licking my balls...

It wasn’t the same though, it wasn’t like the few times I’d let myself think about Dev.

We talked for a while longer about the shooting and some logistics and pre-interview questions. His voice never lost that warmth, and I could feel it like a physical touch all over me. By the time I hung up with Dev, my hands were already in my pants, idly stroking my dick.

I closed my eyes tight and pictured being in our old showers in the locker room. I undressed Dev slowly, revealing a perfect soccer-sculpted body. I wondered if Dev still looked as good as he used to. One thing I knew was that Dev’s voice went straight to my dick. I couldn’t handle listening to him anymore. Dev’s voice had been sleepy and quiet, but with a warmth that made me want to reach through the phone and get my hands all over him. If I hadn’t hung up when I did, he might have made me come just from talking.

I imagined kissing every part of Dev’s body. This time maybe I would go down on Dev, return the favor. I imagined letting Dev’s cock slide like silk all the way into my mouth, taking him as deep as I could. As I let this daydream play out I stroked myself, gripping from the base, stroking nice and slow as I imagined teasing him with my mouth, gradually working myself faster as I gave into his pleas to really suck him. By the time the Dev in my imagination was coming, my own dick pulsed in my hand, shooting up onto my belly while I arched up off the couch. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt that much release after jacking off.

After I cleaned myself up, I took a shower and then climbed into bed. As I lay there, still thinking about Dev, I felt a momentary spike of guilt. It wasn’t like I’d never masturbated while thinking about someone else, but they were always women - and occasionally men - who weren’t actually a part of my life. Jennifer Lawrence or Colton Haynes. People I was never going to meet.

This was different. This was Dev. Not only did I know him, I’d already had sex with him. Of a sort.

Should I tell Jemma? How would I even do that? This trail of guilt only lasted for a moment, though, before my thoughts drifted back to Dev. I fell asleep tracing an imaginary copy of his body in the sheets next to me.

“
G
et up
, lazy!” Jordan squawked at me. I opened my eyes blearily. Jordan was rotating the blinds to let some sun into the room.

“Ugh, it’s Sunday,” I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face.

“It is, and you’ve got a ten AM Skype appointment with somebody in Prague, or wherever, for that soccer movie, and you made me promise to roust you if you didn’t get up on your own.”

“Mmpf,” was my very eloquent reply from under the pillow.

“Well. You’ll want to take a shower and get dressed before your meeting. I’m going to yoga.” Jordan grabbed his yoga mat and threw it in it’s black and silver case. He threw the case over his shoulder and walked out the door, slamming it just a bit behind him.

Jordan was kind of a tantrum thrower. Well, fine. Let him have his tantrum. He hadn’t stopped calling the film ‘that soccer movie’ since I accepted the job.

Anyway, I was pretty excited to talk to Chris over Skype today. Chris Burton had been our keeper, and he was unstoppable. I hadn’t been as close with Chris as I was with Elliot, but Chris was such a great guy. He was coaching soccer in Chicago for a minor league team, and I was really excited to catch up with him. Prague? I let out a puff of air in annoyance. I never said Chris was from Prague. Jordan’s lack of support for this project was getting really old.

With a soft groan, I rolled myself out of bed. Jordan had been right about one thing, at least. I did need to shower before I talked to Chris.

“
W
hat the hell
, Jordan?” I said yanking open the door and stepping inside after he’d slammed it in my face. “Why are we fighting over salads? I thought you liked goat cheese.”

I’d been in Oregon all last week, picking up shots and getting a few preliminary interviews. Jordan had declined to come, and I’d only been home again for about three hours before we were already fighting. This one about what salad to get for dinner.

Jordan got so angry with me that he left the restaurant. This was getting ridiculous. How had we gotten so fucking petty? Goat cheese? Who fights about goat cheese? But I couldn’t blame the whole thing on Jordan. I was being just as obnoxious as he was. I took another deep breath.

“What the hell, Jordan?” I said, as calmly as I could. “Why are we fighting over salads, my love?”

Jordan was flopped on the couch, holding a picture that I couldn’t quite see. He didn’t say anything.

“Jordan?” I said again, a little quieter, “What’s going on?”

“I know you accepted this film because of Elliot Gates.”

His voice was soft, almost hurt, under a layer of anger. “What? No, I didn’t, babe.”

“And I know you called him and talked to him for like, 2 hours,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I saw your phone.”

“Wow, Jordan. Since when did we start spying on each other’s phones?” I snapped. I paused for a second to rein in my temper. “Look. Maybe I never told you how much Coach did for me. But
he
is why I took this project on. And yes. I’m looking forward to seeing Elliot. We were best friends for years, Jordan. He was the first person I came out to. He isn’t even gay. He has a girlfriend.”

“Didn’t stop you sucking his cock in college.” Jordan snorted and threw the picture he was holding onto the coffee table. “And that doesn’t look like youthful experimentation.” I leaned forward to see what the picture was. It was me and Elliot in our apartment, tangled up in each other on the couch, laughing. An awkward selfie Elliot had taken sometime senior year. I had it in the file for the film.

I sighed. Of course seeing this picture made Jordan suspicious, and I supposed he wasn’t wrong to be. Whenever I thought of him, of that night, I could still feel my hands on him. I could still taste his cock as it slid in and out of my mouth, remember his balls, heavy in my hand...

But I also didn’t want to think too much about that. Elliot and Jemma seemed happy. I wasn’t going to London to steal Elliot away from his girl or rekindle something that wasn’t ever there to begin with. I was going to have a beer with my friend and do some filming.

I dropped onto the couch next to Jordan tentatively “Would it make you feel better if I brought you with me to London? You can meet Elliot then, and see what I mean. He’s straight as an arrow. Besides, I was just telling him how hot you are. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

“You were?” Jordan’s smile was returning.

“Mhm,” I shifted to pull Jordan into my lap, lifting a hand to run fingers through his hair, stroking down the back of his neck. “He was asking about how it was to be on campus again, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the showers.” It was mostly true, but I didn’t tell him that I’d spent the whole time putting Elliot in his place in the memory.

Jordan kissed me deeply and gave me a coy smile. “I think some time in England might start to make up for how you’ve been neglecting me.”

“Aw, baby,” I teased, leaning in to press a kiss behind his ear. “Have I been neglecting you?”

“Mm, terribly,” he said, humming in satisfaction and baring his throat for me.

“Then I guess I’ll have to book you a ticket.”

“I guess you will,” Jordan responded, unbuttoning my shirt. “But not just yet.”