by C. A. Rene
Today I’m waiting for him in the sauna, it’s been three days of ignoring him, and I know he’s wondering why I haven’t spoken to him. I like throwing him off guard and doing the unexpected with him. I can see why he likes it here, it’s soothing, and my muscles are growing more languid the longer I’m in here. I should use the one I have at home.
I know he’s going to see the sauna in use and I know he’ll know it’s me, but I’m hoping his curiosity gets the better of him. I’ve been purposefully avoiding him and if I’m starting to get to know him as well as I think, he’ll want to ask what’s up with me.
As if on cue, the door opens forcefully and he’s standing there, a towel around his waist. The scowl on his face is comical and I chuckle before I can hold it in.
“Why are you in here?” he growls, anger so potent in his tone.
“It was a rough practice today,” I feign innocence, “I needed a moment to relax.”
He doesn’t say anything as he stomps over to the bench, stopping to see that I’m even sitting in his usual spot, and moves down to the far side of the bench away from me.
“What’s your problem?” I ask.
“My problem?” he scoffs, “you! You’re my problem. Why do you keep calling me a fucking pussy?”
Oh, right. Maybe I wasn’t completely ignoring him. I did throw in a couple jabs here and there, but I can’t let people see how far my feelings have changed for the guy. That’s something I wouldn’t come back from and I’d be known as the gay boy on the Bills team. I can’t have that.
“Stop acting like one,” I shrug.
His anger gets the best of him and he’s across the bench in record time, his hand around my throat. I struggle to swallow around his hold and wrap my fingers around his wrist, squeezing him just as hard. I know how precious his hands are and even so, he’s still gripping me, that’s how angry he is.
“What are you fucking doing, Sebastian?” he snaps.
“Seb,” I choke out.
“What?” his hold loosens and he drops his hand. “What the fuck did you say?”
“Call me Seb.” Why the fuck am I saying this to him? Only the boys I grew up with call me Seb.
“No thanks,” he stands and tightens the towel around his waist.
“Wait,” I tell him before he has the chance to leave, “I thought we could get to know each other.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re teammates?” I answer his question with one of my own.
“Now you care about that?” he looks at me critically, “you didn’t seem to care a few months ago in the shower…”
“Can we move past that?” I cut him off.
I’d like to say I’m just pulling his leg and I don’t care if he forgives me or not, but that would be a lie. I know why I did what I did, he needed to know his place, and it was always going to be underneath me, like a bitch. I still feel that way, I just know I went too far, and I don’t want that hovering over us forever.
“I don’t know,” I can see the turmoil in his features, “that shit was fucked up.”
I shrug, my nonchalance is evident but I tried, and if he ever wants to hear it again, that’ll be too bad for him. That’s as close to an apology he’ll ever get because I just don’t do them. I make my decisions and I stick by them, right or wrong. Life is too short for regrets and I’m not wasting mine on them.
I stand up from the bench, my towel falling from my waist, and I watch as he looks down at my hard cock. I’m shameless really and I can’t help but be hard whenever he’s around, maybe it was the time in the shower that changed everything; I got a taste and now I want more.
“What are you doing?” his voice drops a few octaves and he visibly swallows. I can see the sweat gathering at his temple and I know it’s not just from the steam.
I like this feeling, being in here alone with him, and knowing at any moment someone could walk in. The towel at his waist tents and I snort at his reaction, he wants me too.
“Tell me what happened at my house,” I demand as I take a step closer.
“What do you think happened?”
“Dixon,” I chastise as I step into him, our chests brushing, “I wasn’t asking, tell me what happened at my house.”
His breathing accelerates and mine follows suit, my eyes drop to his tattooed chest. He’s inked as much as I am and that says something; I have a shit ton of tats. He licks his lips and stares at my mouth, tempting me to grab him, but I won’t. I need to hear what happened at my house so I can separate my dreams from reality.
“You kissed me.” He whispers.
I remember that, “what else?”
“Nothing much after that because you fell asleep.” He rolls his eyes and I grin because he murmurs it with disappointment.
“So, you didn’t suck my dick?” I stare into his eyes.
“No!” he exclaims, lowering his gaze. I watch as his chest heaves and sweat beads between his pecs, skating down between his cut abs. Fuck, that’s hot.
“Did you want to?” I’m so close to him that my lips brush his with my words.
“I don’t know.” He’s being honest, I can tell.
I lean in and bite his lower lip, pulling on it until it snaps back into place. His eyes darken and he sucks the lip into his mouth, tasting me on it.
“I wanted you to.” I tell him and he shakes his head.
“You passed out.”
“I dreamt you choked on my fucking dick as I came down your throat.” I run my fingertip down over his Adam's apple. “Fuck, I really want to choke you with my dick, Dixon.”
For the first time, it’s him that grabs my face and drags me in to kiss him. It feels unsure like he’s struggling with what we’re doing, and so I grab the back of his head to deepen it. I’m not sure what all this is either, but it feels good, and I don’t want to waste time fretting over little shit. It is what it is and we want each other for some damn reason, I still love pussy. I pull his towel off and wrap my arm around his waist, lining our cocks up.
The smooth velvet feel of his dick against mine feels foreign but so amazing and we both moan simultaneously. I want his mouth wrapped around my cock and I want to watch his eyes tear up as I fuck his throat, but I have to go slow. He’s scared and confused, it’s emanating from every pore in his body. I know not everyone is like me, they all question their existences, and need to know their purposes. For me, I like what I like when I like it and I have it while I want it. I have never wanted another man before and that’s how I know I’m not gay, I just want Dixon.
I reach between us and grab his cock, giving him a firm stroke. He breaks away from my mouth and stumbles back, his face shocked.
“I can’t do this,” his voice shakes in fear as he bends to pick up his towel.
I can’t force him, yet. So, I sit back on the bench and lazily stroke my cock as he rewraps himself. He stares at me and my movements, the hunger evident in his eyes. He can say he can’t do it all he wants but I can see he wants to. I can work with that.
“Why are we doing this?” his pained voice fills the room.
“Because we feel like it.” I shrug.
“I’m not gay.”
“Nor am I.” I shrug again.
“This feels fucking gay, Sebastian.” He retorts.
Is it weird that I hate him calling me by my full name? I want him to call me Seb and I can’t figure out why. The people I grew up with call me Seb and that’s all, not even Jameson and Ortiz call me that. So, why do I want to hear him say it so badly?
“Because you’re too much in here,” I point to my head, “but go ahead, be afraid, pussy.”
His eyes narrow at my words and he takes a step forward, growling. Instead of taking the bait, he turns abruptly and leaves the sauna as I chuckle. I lean back and let go of my cock, not giving myself the release I crave. I won’t until I can have it squirting down the back of his throat. I don’t know why he’s so worried about his sexuality, doesn’t he fuck females? I do
, that’s how I know this is just a one off.
Dixon
I decided the only way to get Sebastian off of my mind was to go shopping for a suit, I haven’t done this in years, and the stress of finding the perfect one was enough to shut him out. My phone starts ringing in my pocket and I pull it out to see my mother’s name on the screen. I groan internally as I answer.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Dixon,” she sounds stressed, so I leave the store and stand outside to talk to her.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Daniel,” she sniffs and I steel myself for the news. “He’s been expelled from school. I have to send him to the public school.”
I knew there was a high chance of this happening because Danny doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble.
“What happened?”
“He got into a fight and the cops were called,” she takes a breath and I know that’s not going to be the worst of it. “They searched his locker and found drugs, Dixon. Not just weed, he also had cocaine and pills.”
Clearly my brother has become a drug runner, “okay, I have an away game this weekend, but I can be home for Monday.”
“No, Dixon.” She sounds defeated but firm, “you have to concentrate on your career, I will handle Daniel and his schooling.”
“I think it’s time to do something more, Ma.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“Maybe one of those reform schools.”
“I can’t do that to him,” she says with sadness, “he will hate me.”
“Better he hates you than die on the streets selling drugs, right?” I know I’m being harsh but it’s the truth and sometimes it takes harsh words to wake someone up.
“He has a court date in a month, I am hoping this will make him change and he can prove to the judge that he will do better.” She bypasses my question and I know talking to her will be futile. I need to speak directly to my brother.
“Yeah, okay.”
“You have a good game this week, okay? I will be watching as always.” She hangs up and my heart breaks for the woman who was left to raise two boys alone.
My brother and I grew up without a father figure, so I get what’s happening. I know he’s looking for the acceptance of his peers instead of looking within and that’s a sure path to destruction. Not only is he selfishly thinking of himself, but he’s putting our mother in danger, and my career in jeopardy by association. I tried the easy way by showing him the type of life he could have with hard work and dedication, but like most kids his age, this lesson must be taught differently. I don’t want to go above my mother’s head but I know there’s no saving my brother the easy way.
It’s time to give him a taste of the future he would have if he continued selling drugs and running the streets. Maybe a bit of bootcamp will straighten him out and if it doesn’t, then I will have to cut ties with him; completely cut him off and show him what he can lose with his decisions.
I walk back into the store, Sebastian completely eradicated from my thoughts, and look over what the salesperson picked out for me. It’s not easy being this tall and wide, then finding the perfect penguin suit. Without much thought, I grab the suit on the very top and ask for it to be rang up. I don’t care enough about this gala at the moment, it’s the least of my worries, and any damn suit will do. Three thousand dollars later and a mini heart attack, I’m getting into my car and heading home. Only then do I let myself think of him and what we did in that fucking sauna… again.
I should stay out of there but, I know I won’t. Sebastian Avando has this hold over me and I’m unable to escape it.
Chapter eighteen
Dixon
Was it wrong that I told Danielle I would meet her at the venue? I mean, her father is going to the same place, is that such a big deal? She sounded disappointed but I couldn’t bring myself to care, I don’t even want to go, and her sounding upset before even getting there cements that. I just want this night over with and then get on the bus that will take us to Cincinnati. Yes, right after the gala, we are all piling into a bus and hitting the road. It’s not ideal and having to sleep on the bus and then practice for the game sounds like a terrible idea.
I pay the taxi that drops me off and I grab my duffle bag, spotting the bus in the parking lot. I’m a bit late but whatever, at least I made it, and that’s saying something considering I almost changed my mind. I hand my bag to the driver and then head inside the convention center.
The decorations are lavish and ostentatious. The large garland of silver with bright red roses in their centers, large chandeliers, and the smell of rich people. You know what I mean, their colognes and perfumes smell like they’re worth more than my mother’s yearly salary. I hate that I’m here when this isn’t what I signed up for. I wanted to play a game I love and provide for my family, not to schmooze with rich folks because they gave us some of their money.
“Dixon?”
I turn and see Danielle standing by the stairs and I cringe because it was obvious she was waiting.
“Sorry I’m late...”
“You could’ve texted.” She cuts me off, annoyance clear on her face.
“I’m sorry,” I try again. “I hate crowds and shit like this makes me uncomfortable.”
I guess she sees the honesty in my words and steps forward from the shadow of the stairs. Her dress is a bright emerald green and it makes her skin pop, her radiance on complete display.
“You look beautiful,” I say with awe because she truly does.
The blush that coats her cheeks makes her even more so and she steps closer to me, fingering my black silk tie.
“I thought maybe you would do green as well, when I asked you…” she trails off and I groan.
“Was that why you asked? Is that why you’re wearing green?” I scrub my hand over my face, “this is all new to me, I’m sorry.” More apologies.
“It’s okay,” she chuckles, “you look dashing, Dixon.”
“Thank you,” I feel myself flush and she laughs again.
“Have you ever been to anything like this?” she looks up the stairs and I presume that’s where it’s being held.
“Never.”
“I’ll give you a run through so you’re not surprised.” She smiles and I decide she has a beautiful smile, “so there are a bunch of rich assholes up there that think since they pay towards the team that they are entitled to know shit about you.”
I laugh out loud and that earns me a wider smile.
“They’ll be intrusive with their questions and they will look down on you because they see you as their investment, even some as far as their property.”
I know this already, I gathered that when Coach told us how many zeros were on the checks we received, but I let her continue.
“They’re not here for you guys tonight, they’re here for themselves, and they want flattery. You don’t have to do that, of course,” she rushes out, “but you being the rookie, it’ll be expected.”
“I have to kiss rich asses is what you’re telling me.” I grin at her.
“Yeah.” She giggles and shrugs. Yes, she is absolutely gorgeous.
“What else should I know?”
“Don't be offended by their ignorance.” She explains, “they are only acquainted with their own way of life.”
“Got it.” I nod and hold out my arm, “shall we?”
“You just want to get this over with, huh?” she grins.
“I’m sure you’ll help me enjoy my time tonight.” Her eyes heat at my words and I realize too late how presumptuous that sounded. “I don’t mean… like that…”
“I would love to help you enjoy your time, Dixon.” Her husky voice is a direct hit to my dick and I feel it start to swell.
Well damn, I guess I’m not gay.
The aroma of rich perfumes and foods that I’m not accustomed to assaults my nose. The large room is scattered with tables that are covered in sparkling lace, there’s what looks to be a dance floor i
n the center, and to the far back is a platform with a podium on it. A live band is up there now playing instruments I could never name and songs I have never heard before. There are servers gracing the floors with trays of long-stemmed glasses, filled with bubbling liquid, and topped with raspberries. Everything screams extreme wealth.
“North!” Coach exclaims and the group he’s standing with all turn to look, I guess that’s what I get for being late. “Come here and meet a few people.”
“Here we go,” Danielle murmurs beside me. “Smile.”
I plaster a wide, fake smile on my face, and let her lead me toward the group. It’s a group of older men - I would guess in their fifties to sixties - and some have wives with them. They have friendly enough faces and I release the breath I was holding, letting go of the anxiety with it. This is a first for me and I don’t want to fuck it up.
“Guys, this is Dixon North,” Coach says as I come forward. “Our newest addition.”
I give them a small smile, “nice to meet you.”
“How does it feel to be playing on an NFL team?” One of the men asks with a smile on his face.
“Amazing,” I answer honestly, “I’m honored.”
“This is a big change for you,” another adds, “what college did you play with?”
“Clemson.”
“Oh Clemson!” a woman exclaims, “they are a great team.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Your life must be very different now.” Another woman states and I look at her in question.
“How so?”
“I know all that money an athlete receives,” she chuckles and pats whom I assume is her husband’s arm, “it’s life changing.”
“Yes,” I agree because it’s true. “My life currently is still the same in the sense that I’m catching footballs and running towards an end zone.”
“Oh!” she laughs, “I like that.”
I smile and give her a nod. They’re not so bad, maybe a little pretentious, but not rude.
“You’re a great addition to the team, Mr. North.”
