Fair Catch

by Leigh Carman

  Smiling to myself, I curl my tongue and spear the end right into his slick, tight hole.

  “Fuck!” His shout reverberates throughout the room. Toby lets his body drop back to the bed, too blissed out to hold himself up anymore.

  I continue tonguing his ass, sucking on a finger and pressing it inside his hot channel while licking all around the opening, softening the flesh.

  “God, Van, I can’t… I can’t….” Toby’s breaths are rapid, hitching with each inhale. “I need to come.” He reaches for his dick, but I grab his hand, stopping him.

  “No.” I stand up and pull a condom and lube out of the nightstand. “I want you to come while I’m buried inside you.” Toby nods, and honestly, at this point I think he’d agree to do anything I asked. I roll on the condom and slick up while staring at him. “I wish I could take a picture of you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful.” My heart is near to bursting with the intensity of emotions I feel for this man.

  “Make love to me, Van.” Toby’s voice is hoarse and his eyes unfocused, but I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he knows exactly what he’s saying.

  I pour lube on my fingers and realize my hands are shaking. Shit. Suddenly I’m like a nervous virgin. This whole experience is new to me. I’ve never had a man in my bed before. Hell, I’ve never done anything before except fuck and leave. And here’s Toby—young, inexperienced, abused by his last boyfriend—lying here spread open, trusting me with everything he has. Trusting me with his fragile heart.

  Those thoughts should scare the shit out of me and send me running. But they don’t. No. If anything, they make me want to be better, for Toby, for myself. Be worthy of his love.

  “Move up the bed,” I say, my own voice no more than a low rasp.

  Toby complies, and I kneel on the mattress, crawling between his splayed thighs. Toby puts his hands on my biceps, sliding them over my shoulders to my neck and into my hair. He pulls me down, our eyes locking for a brief second before his eyes flutter shut and he kisses me, slow, gentle, reverent.

  I slide my hand down his crack and circle his hole with my fingers, pushing the lube inside his body. Toby continues kissing me, holding my head in place. When I add a second finger, he gasps, then crushes our lips together again, moaning into my mouth. I eagerly devour every little sound he makes, every breath, every cry. Everything Toby gives me, I take willingly, wanting more.

  Breathless, Toby rips his mouth away. “I’m ready. No more prep. Do it now, Van.” Toby’s eyes open, and it’s my turn to gasp. They aren’t the icy blue I always believed them to be. No. They’re certainly blue, but despite the color they’re far from icy. They’re warm and inviting, not frigid and closed off.

  As I push inside his welcoming body, I realize this is the moment that will change my life. There’s no going back, and I wouldn’t want to. I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Fully seated, we move as one, caressing and kissing and staring into each other’s eyes, and when we come, my future becomes carved in stone.

  I’m in love with Tobias Bennett, and I never saw it coming.

  I WATCH Toby sleep, giving him these few minutes of peace before bringing him back to this harsh reality. A reality where I hurt him, where he’s been hurt by a man in his past, where he feels like a dirty secret and I can’t tell him it’s not true because it is and I fucking hate myself for it.

  He looks so young, especially now with all the stress gone from his gorgeous features. I sigh and tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind his ear. Toby’s eyelids flutter open, and a lazy smile spreads across his face. Two dimples pop, and damn if he doesn’t look even younger.

  “How old are you, Toby?”

  Toby blinks away the sleep and the postsex haze, his smile falling away. I feel like an ass for ruining the moment.

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Oh. You’re only three years younger than me.”

  “How old did you think I was?” His brows scrunch up and he rolls to his side to face me.

  “Well, I knew you were at least twenty-one since you were in Griff’s club.” I give him a crooked grin. “Unless you had a fake ID.”

  Toby rolls his eyes. “I’m old enough to drink, Van.” He sounds annoyed.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You just look so young. Fuck.” I stand up and tug on a pair of sweats, running my hands through my hair. “I guess we should talk.”

  The light in Toby’s eyes dims, and I swear I want to kick my own ass for being the cause.

  “Yeah. We should.” He climbs out of bed, and I watch his tight ass and those mouthwatering dimples at the base of his spine as he walks into the bathroom. The water runs for a moment, and Toby comes out. He puts on his own pants and doesn’t wait for me before heading back to the great room.

  “Coffee?” I ask when I catch up, flipping on the machine in the attached open kitchen.

  “Sure.”

  Toby finds his shirt and puts it on, then turns, grabs a large envelope, and brings it to the kitchen table. He sits on a chair, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, resting his chin on top.

  “I know you like cream, but I only have skim milk. Is that okay?”

  Toby nods, but it’s mechanical. His eyes are back to dull and detached. What happened to the passionate man I just made love to?

  “Toby?” I sit next to him and put his mug down. He doesn’t answer, so I skim a finger down his cheek. “You okay?”

  Toby blinks, as if coming out of a daydream. I watch in horror as his eyes fill with tears and his lower lip quivers.

  “Toby, you’re scaring me, baby.” I shift closer, but he continues to break down. “Jesus, Toby.” Unable to watch him fall apart, I tug him into my lap, cradling his head against my chest. I sift my fingers through his thick hair while dropping chaste kisses on the top of his head. “Did I hurt you? God, Toby, say something.”

  “Don’t hate me,” he begs, his voice cracking.

  “I could never hate you, baby.” I pull his face up to mine, cradling it in my hands. “Never.” Tears streak down his cheeks, and my heart physically hurts for him. I gently kiss him and wipe the moisture from his face.

  With a trembling hand, Toby drags the envelope over. “My ex. I’m so sorry, Van.”

  “Your ex?” I snarl, staring at the envelope as if it’s dipped in poison. “The stalker?” I feel Toby shrink at my anger and force myself to calm down. “Okay, baby. Whatever he’s doing to you, I’ll take care of it.”

  I swear to God if that man laid another finger on Toby, I’ll tear his arm from his body and shove it up his ass.

  It takes me a minute to open the package one-handed since I don’t want to release Toby. I shake the contents over the table, and a handful of eight-by-ten color photos fall out. I only have to look at one to understand why Toby is freaking out.

  The first emotion I feel when I see the pictures is murderous rage. If I ever see Toby’s douche bag of an ex, I’ll kill him. Next comes overwhelming sadness that Toby was afraid to come to me with this. That he let his ex hold these over his head to control him.

  But it’s the last emotion that has my stomach knotting, anxiety flooding my system, and ice flowing through my veins. I thought I was prepared for this, to see the pictures Leo warned me about, but I guess I’m not as strong as I thought. All I feel is fear.

  Fear. Pure, undiluted fear.

  Toby

  “SO WHAT happened, T?”

  Leo just got home from work and is perched on my kitchen counter while I make toast to calm my stomach. It’s just about the only thing I can keep down after telling Van about Austin and the pictures. I haven’t heard a thing from Van in the two days since I saw him at his house. I butter the toast, struggling to hold back the impending tears.

  Fuck, I’ve cried enough for ten lifetimes, and I just don’t want to do it anymore.

  I shrug. “He said he needed to think of a plan.” I take the plate to the table and sit, eating the toas
t but not tasting a thing.

  Leo follows, dropping into the chair across from me. “A plan? Well, what the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, Leo!” Pissed and hurt, I swipe the plate off the table. Not even the sound of it crashing against the wall and shattering gives me any satisfaction. “What can he do? What can either of us do? Austin is never going to give up those pictures. Never. He will hold them against both of us until we’re left broke and wrung out!”

  “You and Van both know what needs to happen, T.” Leo places a hand over mine, and I jerk it away.

  “I can’t ask him to come out, Leo. He has to do it on his own. I refuse to be the one to make him do it. I can’t….” My voice catches, and I scrub at my face. “It has to be his decision.”

  Leo frowns but nods in understanding. “You want him to care enough to do it for you.”

  I sag in the chair, so damn tired. “Or for himself, yes.”

  “That may never happen, T.”

  “I know,” I say sadly. “I know. And really, can you blame him? Do you really expect a man I’ve known for such a short while to throw away his career and his life for me?”

  “No,” Leo says. “He has to do it for him. Even if he cares for you, T. He needs to care about himself first. If he does it for you, he’ll resent you.”

  “I can’t win, Leo.”

  “Oh, honey, sometimes winning isn’t the answer. Sometimes just making it through in one piece is all we can hope for.”

  “I think I lost, then, because I feel completely shattered.”

  My phone buzzes with a text, and both of us freeze.

  “Are you going to check it?” Leo asks. “It could be Van.”

  “It could be him telling me to fuck off.”

  “Or it could be him telling you he loves you,” Leo points out.

  I huff and dig my phone out of my pocket. With one swipe of the screen, I feel the room sway around me, the two bites of toast I managed to eat threatening to make an unwelcome appearance.

  “Toby? Is it Van?”

  “No,” I whisper. “It’s Austin.”

  I PARK behind the massive sports bar, wondering why Austin wanted to meet here, of all places. It’s not like him to want to make a scene in public, or maybe that’s the point. He can threaten me all he likes, and I have to either stay quiet or risk other people listening in. I should be grateful he’s not making me go to his house again. After last time…. I shudder, shaking off the memory.

  I made Leo promise not to follow me this time, letting him know I’d be in a public place at all times. He had a fit, worried about my safety, but agreed, only because if Austin spotted him, it would piss Austin off and he’d find a way to take it out on me if Leo interfered again. I did promise to keep him updated, though, so I pull out my phone and tap out a quick text.

  Me—just got here. Going in.

  Seconds later, I get a response.

  Leo—ok. B careful.

  I shove the phone back in my pocket and take a deep breath. It’s chilly out tonight. Being early December in LA, the weather can be fickle. I zip up my jacket and pull my hood over my head, not just to stay warm, but also to keep people from seeing the petrified look on my face.

  The bar is loud and crowded for a Monday night. Then I catch sight of a TV and realize Monday Night Football is on. My stomach sinks. How am I supposed to find Austin in this mess? I pull my phone back out and send him a text.

  Me—I’m here. Where r u?

  Austin’s response buzzes immediately.

  Austin—back corner near pool tables

  Heat flushes over my skin at the thought of pool tables. I’ll never look at them the same after Van fucked me on top of his. Too quickly, the cold pushes its way back into my veins, and I shiver. My teeth are practically chattering from nerves. I weave through the crowd, trying to simultaneously keep my head down and look for Austin. My hood keeps getting in the way, so I push it off.

  A group of large men is gathered in the area near the pool tables. Jesus, they’re huge. I attempt to push my way through, but they’re loud and big and keep blocking the path.

  “Excuse me,” I say to a particularly enormous guy whose back is to me. He turns around, and my chest squeezes so tight I can hardly breathe.

  “You,” he snarls, his eyes widening. I watch, horrified and surrounded by a half-dozen oversized men, as he elbows his friend. The other man faces me and grimaces. Then his mouth pulls into an evil smile.

  “I remember you. It’s the little faggot,” he says, grinning sadistically.

  Oh God.

  “S-sorry.” I try to backpedal, but they close in on me. There are more of them besides the two guys who bullied Leo and me at the bar near my house.

  One of them steps up into my space, nearly touching me. He’s enormous, bigger than Van, even. That’s when it clicks. They were with Van that day. They’re his teammates. I feel the blood rush out of my head, leaving me light-headed and my vision shimmering around the edges.

  Van’s here. Austin set this up. He wanted me to bump into Van while he’s out with his jock friends.

  “Hey, let me through. What the hell is going on? I can’t even take a piss without you assholes—”

  The familiar voice stops dead when Van steps into the middle of the crowd and spots me. His green eyes flick between the scowling guy towering over me and my own wide eyes.

  “Archer! Just in time.” The friend of the jerk in front of me slings his arm over Van’s shoulders. “Remember our little fag friend here?” Van’s face goes green, and he looks as though he might puke. “Hey, queer!” The guy nods his chin in my direction. “Where’s the other one? Your boyfriend with the blond hair?”

  I flinch at the insult and glance at Van again. He’s turned to stone, that douche bag’s arm still slung around his shoulders. Van’s mouth is hanging slack. Anger pulses through me at Van’s lack of action and this jerk’s insults. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this bigoted asshole shame me in front of everyone. I’d rather be beaten unconscious than let them get the best of me with Van watching, doing nothing to stop it.

  I meet the guy’s hostile gaze and smirk. “I find it interesting that you remember so much about my friend. I’ll let you down easy by telling you right now that you’re not his type.”

  A few of the men chuckle at my insult, and the douche bag’s face contorts with rage. “You little piece of shit.” He grabs my arms, and I prepare for the pain that’s certain to come. “I’m not a fag!”

  Another voice chimes in. “Fuck off, Ronnie!”

  Someone grabs me around the waist and jerks me out of Ronnie’s grip, placing his body in front of mine. I look up to see a different tall man with a head of dirty blond hair standing with his back to me, protecting me.

  Not Van.

  “Rivers, get your homo-loving ass out of my way!” the guy named Ronnie shouts.

  “Shut the fuck up, Weathers,” my savior barks loudly. “And don’t even think about saying a word, Creighton. I’ll report both of you to management for bigotry and intolerance and have you suspended if you don’t stop this shit right now.” The man in front of me, Rivers, is so angry he’s shaking, his voice low and seriously scary.

  I decide not to stick around to find out if Weathers and Creighton talk back. With my chest flayed open and my guts spilled all over the floor by Van’s cold indifference, I turn and duck through the crowd that has gathered to watch the action. By the time I reach the sidewalk, I’m nearly hyperventilating from the humiliation and Van’s subsequent betrayal.

  I’m around the building and in the parking lot, fishing for my keys, when I hear footsteps crunching across the gravel. I wipe the tears from my face and unlock the car.

  With a deep breath to steady myself, I speak without turning around. “Go away, Van. I have nothing to say to you.”

  But it’s not Van who answers me.

  I hear Austin say, “Surprise!” right before a blinding pain explodes at the b
ack of my skull. My legs give out, and I crumple in a heap on the sharp gravel. “You think you can get rid of me, Tobias?” Another sharp blow slams into my side, knocking the breath out of me. Just before my vision fades, I see Austin’s hideous sneer and the bottom of his shoe coming down at my head.

  Chapter 13

  Van

  “LET’S GO,” Ronnie snarls, grabbing Justice’s arm. “We can still catch him.”

  I blink back the shock at coming back from the bathroom to find Toby in the middle of a group of my teammates at our usual Monday night hangout—when we’re not playing, that is. My brain finally catches up with what just happened, and I move. Lightning fast, I weave around a group of people and grab Ronnie by the shoulder, yanking him back.

  “No fucking way are you touching him,” I warn, my voice deceptively calm.

  Ronnie tries to shake me off, but I dig my fingers in tighter. He growls and spins around, wrapping his hands around my wrist and wrenching free.

  “Oh, like you’re gonna stop me?” The huge tackle steps forward until our chests nearly touch. He might be heavier than me, but I’m taller and way fucking angrier than him right now.

  “Damn right I’m going to fucking stop you.” I stare him down, both of us glaring, our jaws tight. I curl my hand at my side, ready to fight if that’s what it takes to keep Toby safe and these assholes from harassing him.

  “What the fuck do you care, Archer?” Justice says from behind Ronnie. “You a fag-lover too, like Rivers here?” Justice’s dark eyes challenge me to answer. I feel Colton at my back, ready to jump in if needed.

  “No,” I growl, rage curling around my spine, gathering in my chest, and pulsing through my veins like molten lava. “I’m not a fag-lover, you asshole. I am a fag.” I step forward, bumping Ronnie with my shoulder. “And that”—I point toward the door—“is the man I love you just threatened.” Ronnie’s eyes bulge out almost comically. I lean in close so only he can hear me. “You touch a goddamn hair on his head and I’ll fucking kill you.”