With a scoff-snort, I pull away, though we remain close as Sebastian leads me to the hot tub. He gets in first, and I follow. Steam curls off the water’s surface. Their backyard is dark, the grass stretching out in all directions. The yard is so large that I can’t see the fence I know surrounds it in the dark. The lapping water of the pool calms me. Sebastian tugs me over to sit next to him and places his head on my shoulder. It’s a surprising gesture. One I wouldn’t expect from a guy who just fucked me within an inch of my life. Since my arms are longer than his, I pull him close and tip my head back to take in the stars. Bright, plentiful, dusting the night like new-fallen snow.
“At least I can say I fucked a young Jude Law,” Sebastian says, more to himself than me.
I laugh. And then I keep laughing. And then he’s laughing too, smiling into my eyes. “Come here.” Sebastian tugs me onto his lap. I straddle his waist, resting my hands on his shoulders.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He’s relaxed beneath me, his hands on my waist, yet before long, they start to wander. There’s no urgency to it. It’s a simple touch, a seeking-after pleasure. My first instinct is to arch my back and purr. “Feels good,” I murmur, my eyes sliding closed.
“What did you want to ask me?”
My forehead goes to the place where his neck and shoulder meet. The skin is warm, growing warmer from the heat of the hot tub. Crickets chirp, and the cool breeze feels good against my skin. Sebastian is an enigma. He’s proud, brash, but there are other things he’s secretive about. “Your teammates don’t know you’re gay, right?”
His hands still. It’s quiet. Maybe even too quiet.
But he doesn’t push me away. That has to be a good sign.
After a beat, he sighs deeply. “No, they don’t. Besides my brother, of course, and he would never say anything about that.”
I would sure hope not. “Why haven’t you told them? Not that it’s their business, but you seem to not care about what other people think of you, so I have to wonder about this.”
He gives me a squeeze. For all the talk about Sebastian not being a touchy-feely guy, he sure likes to take comfort in touch. Maybe he doesn’t realize it. I’m not going to point it out for fear that he’ll pull away.
“That’s the irony, isn’t it? I don’t care what people say about me when it comes to soccer. I know I’m one of the best. But when it comes to me as a person? Well, that’s a different story.” His voice is low, almost reluctant. “The truth is, I desperately want my teammates to like me, but I’m afraid they won’t accept me. The sports world is still pretty homophobic. I’m not sure of their views on the queer community. I’d rather keep it to myself until I know they’re cool with it.”
Not that I’ve spent any significant amount of time with his team aside from observing them at Mulligan’s, but I overheard a few conversations and they all seemed pretty liberal for the most part.
“What about you?” Sebastian says. “Do your students know you’re gay?” He’s nosing my neck, and it feels too good not to let out a soft sigh. Kisses trail along my jaw before making their way to my mouth. We spend years, eons, savoring the taste of one another. While I loved the heat and urgency of our earlier coupling, I will always choose the emotional intimacy of slow kissing over a quick lay.
When we break apart, it’s my turn to love on his neck and ear. My fingers weave through his hair and tighten. “I mentioned it the first day during class introductions. I don’t make a big deal out of it, and they don’t either. I’m there to teach, and they’re there to learn.”
“Seems like you’re braver than I am on that front.”
“It’s not bravery.” The words are careful. “It’s just the life I want to live. I don’t want to hide who I am. It’s exhausting.”
He flinches at that. “Yeah.”
“Hey.” I wait until his eyes lift to mine again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. And I’m sorry I asked. It’s your life. You decide who to let in. If you don’t want to let in your team, then don’t. It’s none of their business.”
“The problem isn’t that I don’t trust them. The problem is I don’t know them.”
“And whose fault is that?” My eyebrows lift in question.
He gives me a look that is so Sebastian. Hot, offended, hackles raised, but trying to downplay it at the same time. And isn’t that something, that I somehow know what a Sebastian look is? “No comment.” He kisses me before I can pursue the topic of conversation. “It’s hot as fucking balls in here. Let’s go to the bedroom—where I can ravish you properly.”
“Ravish?” My laughter is choked. “Seems you picked up a bit of slang in the UK.”
Stepping out of the steaming water, he pulls two fluffy towels from the outdoor kitchen area. “Sort of. When I’m really drunk, I start slipping into my faux accent.” He wraps the cloth around his taut waist and gestures for me to follow him. We head upstairs to his bedroom. It’s more space than one person could ever need, but I only focus on that for an instant before Sebastian’s hands some to rest on my shoulders. He tugs me against him, gently, my back to his front.
“You tired?” he murmurs.
Not in the least.
“You thinking about equations?”
I smile. “Haven’t thought about them in hours.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Taking my hand, he leads me to bed. A tremor runs through me. My nerves are taking hold. They managed to disappear while we were doing... things, but now we’re in his bedroom, and it’s a little more intimate than the backseat of a car. So I wonder: what’s going to happen now? We hooked up in the car. Now we’ll hook up in his bed. Then what? Will I stay over? Will he drive me home? I’m not sure how to navigate this newness.
“You’re thinking too much.” Somehow, he knows. Can read my facial expression. “Stop thinking,” he says. “I’m here. You’re here. For now, we’ll take joy in the other person. Whatever is to come tomorrow, we’ll deal with it then.”
Chapter 17
Sebastian
It’s Thanksgiving break, which means no school, no practice, and no Aidan.
I’m mostly disappointed by that last one.
For the past two weeks, Aidan and I spent as much time together as we could. In bed, and out of it.
Actually, that’s a lie. We spent time together outside of bed. In bed only happened in my imagination. The fact is, I was busy with soccer. He was busy with school. Four times I asked him to come over to my apartment, and he declined. When I offered to go to his place, he pretty much had a panic attack over the idea. So I saw him at tutoring, which led to a few heated kisses, frantic touches through clothes. The door had been wide open. Luckily no one walked in on us.
Our interactions have now been reduced to texting. I’m basically the one initiating because Aidan’s phone is a million years old and he’s not attached to it like a normal millennial in this day and age. I’ve taken it as a challenge, and one I’ll win. I only send him dirty sexts. It’s my way of riling him up while we’re apart. My hope is that when the break is over, he’ll want me so badly he won’t be able to think about the consequences.
It’s working pretty well so far, I’d say. Day three, and he’s flustered.
Currently, I’m holed up in my bedroom at my parents’ house, lounging on the bed. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and my entire family is getting together. It’s an exciting affair. Personal chef arrives to cook most of the day while we all sit around and let him feed us. Henry is always jolly when the holidays start to come around.
Plans for today? I send off the text with more than a flutter in my stomach.
He responds almost immediately. Helping my mom peel potatoes for tomorrow.
Aidan flew home to spend the holiday with his parents in Pennsylvania.
Sounds like a riot, I say.
Oh, it
is.
I bite my lip, thinking of what to say. Sometimes the conversation veers into hot water—as in, I’m hot for this man—but now seems like the perfect opportunity to learn more about Aidan and his upbringing. I only know what he’s told me, which isn’t much.
Crossing my legs at the ankles, I type out, What’s your family like anyway?
His response takes longer to appear. My mom is a chemistry teacher. My father works for the postal service. They’ve been married for almost thirty-five years and are still in love. Growing up, we didn’t have much because my father had a lot of medical bills—he had cancer when I was young. So we tried doing new things as a family. We’d take long drives. At-home movie nights. Went to the playground and community pool when they had free days during the summer.
My smile appears immediately. It’s nothing like my childhood. Maybe that’s why it’s so alluring to me. It sounds nice.
Is that sarcasm or are you being serious?
Just as quickly, I’m frowning. I’m being serious. Why would you think that’s sarcasm?
Two minutes pass with no response. My mom calls from downstairs, “Seb, your father and I are going out! Please take out the trash before we get back.”
“Why can’t Mav do it?” I call back. “He’s done nothing but stuff his face since he got here!” My youngest brother enjoyed nothing more than mooching. It’s a particularly favorite pastime of his.
Mav calls back from downstairs, “Have not!” It sounds like his mouth is full. There are fettucine leftovers from last night, and he’s taking advantage of it.
“Fine,” says our mom. “You can do it together.” The front door closes behind her.
Aidan has finally responded to my question. He wrote, I don’t know. I guess you’re used to living by certain standards. I mean, your parents live in what is basically a palace. It’s not that I don’t think you would be nasty like that, but it’s an insecurity I have. Growing up, I didn’t have the opportunities you did. It’s something I’m working on. Sorry if I offended you.
Surprisingly, I’m not angry. Maybe a few month ago I would have felt anger toward Aidan, that he would assume things of me, but I’ve gotten to know him. Insecurities make people lash out without thought. It’s not personal. I know that now. Even though Aidan didn’t have those opportunities in his past, I hope he finds them in his future. I hope he finds all those things and more.
We’re good, Aidan. But sometime, maybe we’ll get to do something like travel. Doesn’t have to be far. Shit, the hike we did was a blast. The thought of heading off the beaten path—or traveling to a nearby city and spending a few nights—with Aidan makes me excited for something new. What he makes me feel is pretty fucking scary, but it doesn’t make me look forward to it any less.
I’d like that. A pause. I need to go, but talk to you later?
Yeah. I’m still smiling when he signs off.
The Notre Dame campus empties out during the holidays. Not necessarily a bad thing. There’s better traffic, that’s for sure. Another plus is that the fields are empty, allowing me the freedom to practice as much as I want. I take advantage of that to work on my corner kicks. Once that’s done, I work on my passing aim. Dribbling first with the inside of my foot, then the outside, I pick random points on the field to aim at while moving at a slow jog. Most hit their target, though a small percentage go wide. It’s not good enough. I work until I hit all the targets, every single time.
On the third day of Thanksgiving break, I arrive at the field to discover I’m not alone. Max, our team captain, is already shooting on the goal. My first instinct is to leave, since we’re not on the best terms, but I think about the conversation I had with Aidan a few weeks ago in the hot tub, about not trusting my teammates. I haven’t given them a chance. I’m judging them for fear of them judging me. Truth is, I know nothing about them. And that’s because I walked onto the field on the very first day with my ridiculous ego, expecting them to cater to me.
Damn, I’m a douchebag.
Instead, I approach, my gym bag slung over one shoulder. For practice, I don’t wear my shin guards, just my cleats and socks. Max wears the same, except his cleats are striped blue and white while mine are black. He spots me from the corner of his eye and catches the ball under his cleat, watching my approach. That’s one of the reasons Max is a good captain. He’s calm in the face of adversity. I’d never admit as much to him though. Gotta keep up my image.
Stopping a few yards away, I lift my chin. “Hey.”
He returns the gesture. “Saw you practicing yesterday. Thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to do some passing drills.”
The suggestion takes me completely by surprise. He sounds sincere. We’re not friends, but we’re teammates. Whether I like it or not, we have to work together for the good of the team.
“That sounds good,” I reply, dropping my bag on the sideline. When I return, I add, “Before we do though, there’s something I want to say.” I take a deep breath. The words stick in my throat. Apologizing, admitting you’re wrong—it’s not easy for anyone. But sometimes, you have to be the bigger man. “I’m sorry for how I treated you before.” There. That wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Max blinks, opens his mouth, closes it. And waits.
“I’m going to apologize to the whole team, but I thought I’d start with you. When I came here, I was a complete jerk to everyone—especially you. I had my head so far up my ass. I thought I was a one-man team who didn’t need anyone. But I was wrong.”
Max’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. His arms are crossed. He waits for me to go on.
“My behavior is unacceptable, and I vow to change it. I just wanted to let you know that I’m working on my attitude. Going forward, I am going to take direction from you. We’re lucky to have a level-headed captain like you, so you can put up with people like me.” He studies me with curiosity, I think. Surprise, too. “Anyway, that’s all I really wanted to say.”
His arms drop, hands loose at his sides. After a long period of time in which there is only the sound of cars driving past the field, wind in the trees, he passes me the ball. A peace offering.
“I appreciate that,” Max says. “You were an ass. A big one. But it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m glad you’ve decided to come around. There’s no doubt about it—you’re one of the strongest players on the team, and we need you. But you need us as well.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. I was beginning to realize that, slowly but surely.
Max and I spend the next hour running passing drills. At the end of it, we head to the bleachers to cool off, and I find myself sharing a halfway-decent conversation with the guy.
“See you next week,” Max says with a backward wave.
“See you.” I’m looking forward to it, too. Maybe things are looking up.
I have the field to myself again. It’s a peaceful thing, to be in the middle of the stands alone. Fishing through my bag, I take out my phone to see if Aidan responded. The sight of his text puts a lick of heat in my stomach.
You know what I wish? That you were here with me, your tongue in my mouth, your hands on my ass.
What the—? Definitely wasn’t expecting that.
Everything okay? I ask, though I’m certainly not complaining. And neither is my dick.
Just to be sure, I glance around the field, the stands. I’m alone.
No. I’m in Pennsylvania and you’re in Indiana. I’ve been going crazy this week thinking about what we did in the backseat of your car. It’s so bad I can’t concentrate on my work, and that never happens. Maybe if we had sex again I could get you out of my system.
Before I say what I’m thinking, I force myself to take a breath. No reason to jump the gun. Is that really what you want? To get me out of your system? Because it’s the last thing I want. I want Aidan in my system for as long as he’ll stay there.
Well, no. But isn’t that what you want?
Hell no! My eyes are glued to the phone screen. The sun beats down on me. Time to head back to my apartment for a cold shower. What I want is to stick my cock in your ass. But before I do that, I want you to drive yours into my mouth, down my throat, so I can suck you off.
Then what? Aidan misspells the words. His hands must be trembling.
I hightail it off the field and to my car. As soon as the key is in the ignition, I turn the AC onto blasting. Sweat cools against my skin and my sweaty, sticky uniform peels away when I tug it from my chest. If only Aidan was here, he could lick the sweat away for me.
Phone. Right.
I type back, Then I’d want you to do the same to me. If you want to, that is. If Aidan doesn’t want that, I’ll work around it. The last thing I want is to pressure him into something he won’t enjoy. Oral sex isn’t for everyone. Neither is butt stuff.
Pretty sure I’m not breathing while I wait for his response.
I’d like to do that to you, he says. And then some.
The end of Thanksgiving break can’t come soon enough. Aidan’s ass is calling me.
Chapter 18
Aidan
Thanksgiving has come and gone, and it’s back to real life. Taking a break from grad school responsibilities was difficult, but necessary. Needed. Since the first day of school, I’ve worked like a dog. It was almost like pulling teeth, to not do work. But I forced myself to take a breath, and I did it. The only problem was, I wasn’t sure what to do with my downtime. As sad as it sounds, I’ve forgotten how to relax. So I read a book. An actual, real-life novel that hadn’t anything to do with mathematics. And I went for a walk. My parents live in the countryside, and growing up, I would spend a lot of time wandering the pastures to clear my head. It was nice. It was really, really nice.
The problem was, clearing my head actually meant thinking of all the dirty things I wanted to do with Sebastian Dumont. Do you know how awkward that is, to be thinking of anal sex while passing the mashed potatoes to my father across the table?
Sebastian (The Dumonts Book 1) Page 12
