by Sean Kennedy
I reached behind me into the cupboard, pulling out two plates. “I think it’s possible they could still be out there. Aren’t there areas of wilderness that no human has stepped in?”
“Not around where I live,” Declan said dryly. “You might have to venture out a little further.”
“You’ve never wanted to do it?”
“I take it you would?”
I nodded and set down my beer so I could start serving up dinner. “Sure. Trekking into the hills, going further than most people ever have into the wilderness, and then being rewarded with one undeniable look at a thylacine in its natural habitat.”
Declan grinned knowingly. “And you would never tell. You would keep it a secret, because you know if you didn’t, even though it would bring you fame and fortune, especially if you had photographic evidence, letting the world know would mean their refuge would be destroyed by people wanting to find out more about them. It would be best for you to just let that tiger fade back into the forest and remain a myth as it continues to survive and build its numbers.”
Damn. He had me pegged. And he could be poetic when he wanted to be. “It would be the right thing to do.” I was now becoming uncomfortably aware that this conversation could be serving as an allegory for something else altogether.
Declan put his beer down and moved behind me. I was half expecting a cuddle, but he took the plates of food off me and delivered them to the table. I fumbled in the cutlery drawer and produced two pairs of chopsticks. I grabbed our beers and joined him.
“What would you do?” I asked him.
He took a deep breath and sat down. He looked up at me and smiled. “Seeing as the last time we had anything to do with them, we wiped them out, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything like that happening with a new lot.” He reached for his beer.
I clinked my bottle against his and smiled stupidly at him.
“What are we drinking to?” he asked.
“Whatever.”
“That’s specific. How about, wherever this takes us?”
We clinked the bottles together again and picked up the chopsticks to start eating.
Declan handled his deftly, sending them out across his plate as if they were warriors seeking prey. Despite years of use, I still occasionally used mine as a spear rather than a utensil.
“This is really good,” Declan said appreciatively.
“It’s not that good,” I said. “You don’t have to butter me up.”
He winked suggestively at me, and I quickly downed another mouthful of beer, which was thankfully beginning to work its magic upon me.
“This was exactly what I needed after training,” he continued. “They’re testing me out to see whether I can return to the field this week.”
“Do you think you will?”
“I think I can. But of course, I’ve been thinking that for the last month, and they still haven’t put me on.”
I stabbed at a piece of tofu. “Well, they don’t want to damage the goods after getting you back.”
Declan shrugged. “I guess it’s always a problem, that line between what a player needs and what the coaches decide is best.”
I thought it was interesting, his use of the word need. In the normal world, a worker wishes to be put out of commission for a little while in order to enjoy a holiday away from the strain of the office; but to somebody like Declan, where work also happened to be his passion, he must have felt, and continued to feel, pretty close to bereft being kept away from it for so long.
His easy going expression slipped a little as he drank his beer, thinking about the possibility he might not get what he wanted — needed — next week. Then it was gone again, so fast I wondered if I had imagined it.
“Are you still in any pain?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s a bit sore sometimes, but not painful. I think it’s rusting from inactivity more than anything.”
“I doubt it’s inactive. I’ve seen you on the sports report.”
“Have you really?” He grinned at me.
“Hey, I can’t help it if your ugly mug pops up every time I’m trying to find out the lineup for Richmond’s next game.”
Declan laughed. “And here I was thinking you kind of liked my mug.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. As mugs go.” I then laughed and stared down at my plate.
There was the sound of movement underneath the table, and I felt his foot pressing up against mine. It was a comfortable weight.
“So’s yours.” Declan began eating again.
Wow. I was beginning to like hearing these sly compliments. I froze as Declan’s foot crept up underneath the cuff of the right leg of my pants. He had kicked off his sneaker, and I could feel the warmth of his stockinged foot against the hairs of my leg. He continued eating with an innocent expression on his face as his foot began rubbing towards my knee. I tried to collect some vegetables between my chopsticks, but my aim was unsteady and a small pile of onion flew across the table to land close to Declan’s beer. He grinned, but kept his momentum.
I swallowed a mouthful of beer to steady my nerves and was disappointed when Declan’s foot withdrew. I tried to think of something to say to fill the sudden silence, when his foot was back against my skin. Except this time there was a difference. It was skin against skin. He had shucked his sock off, and I was now feeling the direct heat from his body transferring to mine. It was also having effects upon other areas of my body. He kept the foot in place, maybe just enjoying the simple contact.
“So,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack.
Declan put his chopsticks down and looked at me expectantly.
“It’s Wednesday,” I said weakly.
He nodded, not giving anything away.
“You’re not playing until Friday.”
“Yep.” Funny how that one little word sounded so full of promise.
“So your superstition won’t be in effect until tomorrow.”
“No, I guess not.” There was a small smile playing upon his lips. I wanted to kiss it off him.
My curiosity got in the way of passion. “How does that work exactly? I mean, does the superstition kick in at midnight, or is it just in the general timeframe of the night before?”
He looked adorably confused at my sudden change of tone. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s just a superstition. There’s no logic to it.”
“But there must be a time frame, right?”
“I guess… probably just in the vicinity of the evening before and the day of the match.”
“Huh.” I sat back thoughtfully.
“Does that answer your question?”
I think it did, because the next thing I knew I had launched myself at him, and he was trapped in his chair as I squirmed up against his body, gripping his face in my hands as I kissed him. His arms pulled me in closer, and I noticed how they strained against the material of his shirt. I was no lightweight, but I bet he could pick me up and throw me across the room like a javelin. I crouched over him like a cat with a mouse, but suddenly I was pulled onto his lap. That was more comfortable.
Our kisses grew more heated and desperate; dinner was forgotten. Well, we had almost finished anyway. Declan’s hand crept under my shirt and rested against the small of my back. While my mouth was still occupied with his, my brain stupidly went into overdrive as it realised that this was it. It was going to happen. And all those idiotic insecurities that normally came with any time two people are first intimate with each other came flooding over me. Especially with Declan. The guy was going to have an amazing body; he was surrounded by astounding specimens of masculinity every time he met with his colleagues, and mine could never compare.
But then I saw him staring back at me.
And saw that he wanted me.
There was an unmistakable hunger in his eyes, and he was eyeing me appreciatively. I didn’t really understand it, and it didn’t settle my insecurities completely but I managed to get over that bump in the
road.
Without speaking we rose as one and stumbled out of the dining room, through the lounge, and paused as Declan realised he didn’t know where the bedroom was. I took the initiative and pulled him with me, still clutching him.
We sagged against the bookcase in my room; Declan’s hands were starting to pull my shirt up my body, but I pressed against him, inhibiting his actions. This time it had nothing to do with the insecurity of being naked before him. I was now desperate, close to the edge, and unable to hold on much longer. He gasped as I ground against him, searching for friction. I found it, and his gasp turned into a guttural moan as I locked into him and began getting us off.
“Simon…” he moaned, and I liked hearing my name said that way.
I pulled his lower lip between my own and then released it to lick along the side of his neck. I let my mouth rest against the hollow of his throat; Declan threw his head back. His hands came to rest on my arse as he helped me continue to thrust against him.
Declan swore to himself, his breathing becoming more hoarse. I raised my head again, as I wanted to see his face in this most unguarded of moments. He bit his lip, and closed his eyes; I kissed him, and they flew back open. His breath erupted from him in a hot rush into my mouth, and he sagged against me. I bucked against him slowly, letting him ride out his release. As he sighed contentedly and his breathing steadied, I kept eye contact with him and started thrusting again. He held me tighter, his eyes never off me until I cried out and fell against him. He continued to hold me, and his hands travelled up my back, rubbing softly. I buried my head in the crook of his neck as postorgasmic bliss gave way quickly to Oh fuck, what have I done?
We didn’t speak. The only sound in the room was both of us breathing heavily; we leaned against each other, sweating and dishevelled, unwilling to let go. Waiting for a second round.
Second Quarter
Chapter 9
“IT’S past midnight,” Declan murmured in the dark.
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin now?” I asked, giving his horrendous soul patch a slight tug.
“Oww,” he moaned, grabbing the offending fingers and holding them tightly.
“Hey!” I protested, and then I moaned as he then began sucking on them slowly. As much as I didn’t want to, I withdrew them and smacked him lightly on the top of his skull. “Hey, pumpkin boy!”
From the small amount of light coming through the window, I could see him looking offended. “What?”
“So, it’s midnight.”
“Oh yeah. No more playing.”
“I thought you said it was only the evening before?”
He chuckled. “You’re insatiable.”
“I didn’t hear you saying no any time.”
“But I feel pretty exhausted and a little bit sore now.”
So was I, but just knowing he was here in my bed with me could almost get me going again. I kissed him slowly and tenderly, and he responded eagerly.
“Christ,” he moaned. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“It’s reciprocal, believe me.”
Five hours ago, I had been wary of taking my clothes off before him. Now I never wanted to put them on again. We lay skin to skin against each other, sticky, sweaty, happy.
“I never asked you before,” he said. “But I was hoping I could stay the night. Is that okay?”
I laughed and nuzzled his shoulder, the hair on his chest tickling my chin. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He looked over his shoulder at the pile of messed up and crumpled clothing next to the bed. “I really need to wash those so I’m somewhat presentable when I go to my parents’ tomorrow.”
“You at least brought clean socks and jocks, though?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were going to make me mess my jeans,” he complained.
Dirty pillow talk is so hot. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” I didn’t want to leave the bed, but I scrambled over him. While my arse was up in the air I received a resounding slap on it. “Hey!” I cried out.
Declan laughed. “Where are you going?”
“To put these clothes in the wash.”
“Do you have a dryer?”
“I live in this city, don’t I? You can’t survive here without one.”
You seriously couldn’t. Melbourne had long had a reputation for being the city that experienced all four seasons in one day. You could never rely upon the weather report.
He grabbed me around the waist. “Maybe I don’t want you to leave.”
I retaliated by digging him in the ribs. “Stay in bed, do my laundry. What am I, your maid?”
He spoke directly into my ear, his warm breath an invitation. “You can be whatever you want.”
“Hold that thought.” I ground against him, and he moaned, but I slipped out of his grasp and deftly scooped up all of our clothes in one move while heading out of the bedroom and towards the laundry.
“Tease!” he yelled after me.
As I made my way through the lounge, Maggie watched me disapprovingly from her position on the couch. She had been locked out of the bedroom during our shenanigans, and she was not happy.
“Sorry, baby,” I whispered. I gave her a quick rub behind the ear, and her tail twitched dangerously.
In the small laundry behind my kitchen I threw the clothes in the washer, chucked in the powder, and slammed the lid shut as quickly as possible in order to race back to bed. When I turned around, Declan stood behind me. In the full light, he was even more fucking hot and beautiful. Declan Tyler. Naked in my laundry.
“Now that’s even better than your calendar shot,” I said, before I could censor myself.
“You’ve seen my calendar shot?” He grinned, looking slightly bashful.
“Dude, it was splashed over every newspaper. Why the fuck did they make you wax though?”
Now he really did look bashful. “Apparently women like a smoother body.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“Please, let’s stop talking about the calendar.”
“Why?”
“It’s embarrassing. I didn’t even want to do it in the first place.” He moved closer to me and took my hand, leading me back to the bedroom.
“Why not?” I asked. “It was for a good cause.”
Back in the bedroom, he pulled me onto the bed and lay on his back, using my shoulder as a pillow. “I wasn’t comfortable doing it, being on display. But it was when I was first starting, and I didn’t feel like I could say no.”
“But you can say no now?”
“I’m in the position where I can, yeah.”
“Bet they were disappointed.”
“I make a donation to them every year instead of doing it.”
I found myself stroking his hair as we lay looking at the ceiling. “I bet you sales have plummeted.”
He laughed. “I remember you saying a while back you didn’t think my ego needed to be stroked.”
“I also told you that I tell the truth.”
“So would you do it?”
“What?”
“Pose in a calendar for charity.” His hand travelled down and rested upon my knee.
“No way.”
His thumb caressed the flesh of my knee. “Hypocrite.”
“Nobody would buy a calendar with me in it.”
Declan rolled over, resting his arms upon my chest. “I would,” he said.
“Great. I would sell one copy.”
He kissed me. “Nah, I’d buy a few.”
Fuck, I was ready for him again. “Shut up. Or else I’ll make you defy your superstition.”
But his fingers were travelling down my body, a trail of desire leaving my mouth dry. “I thought I said evening, didn’t I?”
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I managed to grunt out, “As long as we make it clear—”
Declan silenced me by arching up and kissing me again.
Afterwards we showered, and I threw the now-clean cl
othes into the dryer. Declan helped me strip the bed, and we remade it with fresh sheets before falling beneath the covers dead with exhaustion.
“Goodnight,” I whispered, but there was no answer from him because he was already asleep.
THE sun was glaring in my eyes, I rolled over to find Declan’s side of the bed empty. I know it sounds really girly, but I wanted to wake up with him. Although disappointed, I wasn’t acting stupid enough though to wonder if the previous night’s events were all just a dream or fevered fantasy. I pulled on a pair of trakkies and a hoodie and padded quietly out to the lounge.
Maggie was sitting in the window, looking out into the garden. I peered through the blinds and saw that Dec’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Puzzled, I looked around to see if he left a note but there wasn’t one.
Strangely enough, the table had been cleared, and the dishes were stacked neatly in the sink. I sure as hell hadn’t done it, so I could only assume he had.
I went through the motions of starting a pot of coffee, wondering what it all meant. If he was doing a fuck and run, he wouldn’t have cleaned up. But he would have left a note if it wasn’t. None of it made any sense.
Of course, it did five minutes later when I was morosely sipping at a cup of coffee and heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Maggie mewed a warning, and I petted her absentmindedly as I stood behind her to look out into the garden once more.
It was Declan. He jumped out of the cab of the SUV and reached back in to pull out a couple of brown paper bags. I hurried back to the table and sat down again, trying to look nonchalant. I heard him fumbling at the front door with keys, and he stumbled through trying to balance everything.
“Hey,” he said cheerily, catching sight of me. “Morning. You sleep like the dead, you know that?”
This was true.
He noted my expression and asked, “Did you think I had abandoned you?”
“No,” I scoffed. But neither of us was fooled.
Declan made his way over to me and dumped the bags on the table. “I bought breakfast.” He leaned down and kissed me. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”
I cleared my throat so it wouldn’t sound rusty. “Not really. Do you want a coffee?”
