Unnecessary Roughness (ESC Mavericks Book 2)

by Alison Hendricks

I go from feeling like hot shit to steamed garbage pretty quick, knowing I'm at least partly to blame for the throttling Collins is going to get after the game.

  The weirdest part of it is that he keeps looking up at the stands. Just quick glances, like he doesn't want whoever he's looking for to see that he's doing it. I manage to follow his gaze in time to see...

  Jesus fucking Christ. Tom Collins, Gator alum and Heisman winner. Owen's dad. And he looks pissed.

  Even with all the fuck ups, we still pull out an easy win. It's hard for me to celebrate with my teammates when I'm legitimately feeling like an asshole. I wanted to tweak Collins, not get him into trouble with his old man.

  I look for him after the game, but he showers and dresses in record time, slipping out the back door before any of the other guys really notice he's gone.

  I can't help it. I pull on my street clothes and follow him, not even sure what I plan to do if I actually catch up. Before I round the corner of the ugly concrete building that houses our locker room, I hear a raised voice.

  "What the hell was that, Owen?"

  "Just had a bad day," Owen says. "It won't happen again."

  "It better not, because this is not the way a D1 athlete plays. You look like you're perfectly at home with these rejects."

  Somehow I'm not surprised Tom Collins is a real asshole. I am surprised by Owen's response, though.

  "Did you even watch them play? They destroyed Eastern Florida. They aren't rejects."

  "That program is full of talentless nobodies fresh out of high school. It's not exactly a high bar to clear."

  "I'm not doing this with you, Dad." Fabric shifts, like Owen's pulling his duffel bag up. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "What's there to talk about? If you want to play like some limp-wristed freshman, that's your business. I'll just tell my buddies you aren't interested in ever leaving this shithole."

  Limp-wristed freshman? Of all the insults he could've chosen, all the shitty things he could've said to his son, that's what he went with? He might as well have called him a fag, as if that has anything to do with anything.

  Considering the disgust in his voice, though, that would be the worst possible thing. And the fact that Collins was playing poorly because he was distracted by me being a dick makes me wonder if his dad knows, or at least suspects.

  If he does, it's obvious how he feels about it, and as I back away from my position and prepare to get the hell out of dodge, I start to form a really clear picture of why Owen Collins is so closeted.

  How can you ever feel comfortable in your own skin when you've got a father like that criticizing your every move?

  10

  Nate

  After the game, I hit up Tony’s with my boys and try not to think about the kind of effect Tom Collins had on his kid.

  It's not like it matters. Owen's a grown ass man now. He can make his own decisions and live his own life. Maybe it gives a little bit of context for the way he acted when we were in high school, but not enough for me to feel good about him fucking up my chance at a D1 school and a ticket to the NFL.

  I notice his absence, though, and I sit there wondering if he's alone in our dorm room feeling like shit.

  It makes me think about my own folks and how they reacted when I came out. The support I got from my mom is one of the reasons I didn't just totally crumble when everything got dragged out in the open. Even my dad didn't seem to give a shit. The few times a year I see him now, we don't talk about the fact that I like to fuck dudes, but he doesn't spend that time treating me like I'm some kind of disappointment, either.

  My extended family is another story. My grandma on my dad's side basically cut all three of us off: me for being a sinner who's going straight to hell, and Mom and Dad for raising me to be that way. There are a few other people on both sides of my family tree who see the world the way she does, and it hurts. Seeing their updates on Facebook, watching them purposely exclude me from shit is rough, and I only ever saw those people once a year at most.

  I can't imagine one of my parents acting that way. It would've crushed me.

  That's the thought that gets me and my bleeding heart to leave early, before anybody can even start up the Arcade Triathlon. Eli gives me a weird look but doesn't bug me--for now--as I grab my shit and make the trek back to campus.

  The air is thick and humid as I walk the few miles' distance between Tony’s and the dorm buildings. It's hard to think when it's this hot out, but that's probably a good thing. I don't need to be thinking any more about this. I don't even need to be doing what I'm doing now, but at least I know that once it's finished, I can finally stop obsessing over it.

  Making my way to our room, I glance at the dry-erase board. We worked out a system for when we each should fuck off and find something else to do for a little while, but the only thing on there is the faint outline of the dick one of our floor mates drew on it. I smirk to myself. Apparently Collins got tired of seeing the thing, because I sure didn't erase it.

  Pushing open the door, I find Collins sprawled out on his bed, pillows propped up behind his back, his tablet held out in front of him. I can hear what sounds like a football game. Dude can't get enough, I guess. Either that or he's deep in the spiral of taking the shit his dad said way too seriously.

  His eyes cast up at me, but he doesn't say anything. Still pissed. Okay, I can buy that. I probably deserve it, after what I pulled today.

  "You got a sec?"

  If I'm going to do this, why not just launch right into it?

  Collins' brow furrows. "I guess. But the second you start talking about fucking someone--"

  "Nah, it's not about that. I mean... it is." I rake my fingers through my hair. Why am I second-guessing myself now? "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For being a dick."

  Collins taps his tablet screen and sets it down beside him on the bed. His expression is skeptical, confused, and I try not to let it piss me off. It's not like I've given him reason to believe I'm sincere.

  "I shouldn't have fucked with you. I wanted to get inside your head, make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to mess you up on the field, man."

  It's probably the most heartfelt apology I've given in a long time. So of course Collins throws it right back in my face.

  "Jesus. How big is your ego? I had a bad game. Doesn't mean I was thinking about you."

  I sit on the edge of my bed, facing him. He's got that scowl on his face he gave me in the locker room, but there's something else in his eyes, like he's daring me to pick up where I left off.

  Or maybe I'm just seeing things I want to see.

  I didn't come here to wind him up, though. I came here to talk to him about serious shit, like how his dad is a homophobic asshole who needs to stay in his lane.

  "Saw your dad at the game," I say, wading out into choppy waters.

  "He's hard to miss."

  I snort. "I know that's the truth."

  Collins ignores my attempt to bond with him, but he doesn't give me the expected "don't talk about my old man that way" stare, either. He just goes back to his tablet.

  Okay, so he doesn't want to talk about it. And if I had any respect for boundaries, I'd probably leave him alone.

  Instead, I say, "It's not cool of him to ride you like that. So you had a shit game. So what? Happens to all of us. You could probably find footage of him choking back in the day, too."

  Collins' lips twitch. "Pretty sure he burned all of that footage."

  A grin spreads across my features. Okay, we're getting somewhere. As much as I like antagonizing the guy, I have to admit it feels pretty good to be on the same page as him for once, and it makes me bold enough to stroll right into the lion's den.

  "Guess he'd lose his shit if he knew you got it up for a guy, huh?"

  His eyes fly open and he jerks his head to stare at me, anger and disbelief clouding his gaze. The tablet is tossed aside and he sits up, his hulking form perched on the edge of his bed.

  "Is tha
t a fucking threat?"

  Great. Here we go again. Zero to sixty in no time flat.

  "Not everything I say is meant to get a rise out of you, man," I fire back.

  "Yeah? Could've fooled me."

  I guess he's got a point there, but I'm not going to feel guilty about hating his ass for what he did. Especially not when I'm trying to understand and he's throwing it back in my face.

  "You know, I was gonna give you an out. I thought I finally had an answer for why you were such a piece of shit in high school. Poor queer boy doesn't wanna make his famous daddy mad by acting anything other than straight. Is that why you did it? To earn points for outing me?"

  He looks stunned, eyes wide, mouth open. For a second I wonder if I'm just completely off base, but the sudden, violent burst of color in his skin and the hatred in his eyes tells me I'm spot on.

  "You don't know a thing about me, so whatever story you've come up with to make yourself feel better, just fuck off with it."

  Damn, this guy knows just how to push my buttons. Here I was, trying to understand him and maybe start to repair all the shit that’s broken between us, but nah. Fuck that.

  Now I just want to mess with him.

  “Yeah? ‘Cause here’s what I think.” I push off from my bed and come right over into his personal space, my hands on either side of the bed as I lean down. “I think you’re just mad because you can’t let yourself admit I gave you the best fucking blowjob of your life.”

  His nostrils flare and his eyes widen, reinforcing my shitty behavior. He looks like he’s torn between wanting to punch me in the mouth and shove me face first onto his dick, and there’s something about that aggression that makes me horny as fuck.

  “Is your ego always this big, or is this just for me?” His mouth is pinched in disgust, but there’s a raspy note to his voice that sends a shot of fire straight through me.

  “All for you, babe,” I taunt, my gaze flicking downward. “But if you think my ego’s big, you should see my dick.”

  He lets out a shaky breath even as his eyes burn with loathing. Fuck, that look makes my blood turn molten and my dick swells instantly.

  “Do you talk this way to the guys you get to dick you out too?”

  “Some of them,” I respond, breathless. “What’s the matter? You jealous?”

  Another sharp inhale, his eyes dilating as he says, “What the fuck would I have to be jealous about? The guy who was in here the other day looked like he was in the middle of reciting his grocery list.”

  My lips twitch unbidden, because he’s right. Dustin or whatever his name was had his moments, but for the most part he fucked me like he was scared he was going to break me. Not like that was possible with his average-sized dick and complete inability to use it right.

  “Yeah? Why don’t you show me how you would’ve done it?”

  His eyes flash, going from a rich hunter green to something far darker. I’ve goaded guys like this before. Straight boys love it when I push their buttons and get them riled up, because then they get to blame it all on me.

  But I’ve never wanted it to work as badly as I do right now, with Owen Collins.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says in a low voice.

  “Wow.” Sarcasm drips from the word as I draw it out. “How long did that one take you to put together, genius?”

  “Get the fuck outta my face.”

  His hands press into my shoulders and he shoves me away from him, but I was ready for that. I brace myself and stand my ground, even when he gets to his feet. He’s so close to me our chests are nearly touching, and I look up at him in challenge.

  “Make me, Charter School.”

  It’s probably the most juvenile thing I’ve ever said to somebody, considering I haven’t called him that since high school when—surprise, surprise—he’d been enrolled in a charter program for future architecture majors or some shit. But I don’t give a fuck, because it lights recognition in his eyes that deepens this moment even further.

  My heart thuds in my chest as I wait to see what he’ll do. He could walk away and end this right now, but we both know that’s not going to happen. He’ll fire back with something just as stupid, or maybe he’ll shove me again.

  Catching me a little off guard, Collins grabs the collar of my shirt and yanks me against him. His eyes dart to my lips, and for a second it seems like he’s going to kiss me, even with what I said about not involving that soft shit in my hookups.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he uses the momentum to shove me backwards, so hard I’m flung onto the bed, bouncing on the lumpy mattress before he’s on top of me. I’ll be able to jack it to the image of him lunging for me for weeks, but he doesn’t stop there. His arms come around me roughly, his legs pin me to the bed, and it takes me way too long to realize he’s trying to get me in a fucking head lock, probably hoping I’ll submit.

  Fuck that.

  My legs kick out from underneath him and I squeeze my thighs high against his body, trapping his arms at his sides and forcing him to let go of my shoulders. He tries to pry my legs off of him, but I throw one over his shoulder and do everything in my power to flip our positions.

  The fire of competition burns in his eyes, and I know it’s on. We wrestle on the bed like we’re both masters of Judo or some shit, using arms and legs and whole bodies to try and pin each other and force a submission.

  As much as I want to win, my brain’s kicked the horniness into overdrive. My dick throbs with every move, and I’m so hard I can feel precum leaking in my briefs. It feels so fucking good to have his weight on top of me, the full bulk of him holding me down. Part of me doesn’t even want to fight it, and when he gets me on my belly, his arms pinning mine above my head, his hard cock pressing into my ass, I change tactics: I grind back against him without a fucking ounce of shame.

  His deep groan is the best sound I’ve ever heard, even if it’s followed up by the angry hiss of, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Don’t act like you aren’t as turned on as I am right now,” I growl back.

  When I look over my shoulder, Collins roughly pushes my head back down and I moan. God, this is fucked up. He doesn’t even have to fuck me. I could probably come just from the way he’s treating me right now. It’s wrong on so many levels, but I just don’t care.

  When Collins pushes the full weight of his body down against mine, his breath rasping in my ear, I know he doesn’t care, either. “Is this the kind of shit you get off on, Nate?” His hips roll against my ass and his cock presses even harder against me, making my whole body clench with need. “You’re fucking sick.”

  “Says the guy who’s grinding his dick against me,” I bite out. “You can’t kink shame me when you want it as bad as I do; when you want to pound me into this fucking bed until I can’t move.”

  He shudders above me, and I know he’s just as far gone as I am.

  “God, I hate you,” he breathes.

  The words are plain enough, but all I hear is: God, I hate how much I want you. And the feeling’s fucking mutual, because I’m out of my mind with lust right now.

  “Come on, Collins. Are you going to fuck me, or should I call Dustin back in here?”

  I know that’ll get to him, but I’m still not prepared for just how much. He shoves me harder against the bed, a possessive growl tearing from his throat as he yanks my pants and briefs down in one shot, exposing my bare ass to the cool air. His palm is there immediately, smacking and squeezing in one stroke, and I let out a loud moan.

  “This ass is mine, do you understand?”

  Fuck. My dick pulses at the way he’s staking his claim. I like a dominant top, but this goes way past anything I’ve ever experienced before, and God I want it so bad. Right now, I want him to possess me until I have no idea who I am without him inside me.

  “Then fucking take it,” I demand, pushing back against his hand.

  He’s still above me, though I can still hear and feel his labored breat
hing. When he pushes up, some part of me is deathly afraid he’s just going to leave me here. It would be the ultimate “fuck you,” and he’d definitely win this little bout.

  But when I hear his zipper, I close my eyes and let out a breath, my body caught between bone-deep relief and an aching need no one else can fill.

  “Condoms,” he says, all of his words coming out in breathy growls now.

  “Don’t need it,” I manage, impatience making my whole body tremble with want. “Lube’s in the drawer.”

  I can feel him hesitate, and I feel like whimpering. I expected the lust-crazed moment to pass if he took too long, but no. Collins apparently has the power to make me want him even more, even as he’s considering what I’m saying.

  I know he’s heard me say shit about PrEP before, mostly just to tweak him. And we both had mandatory physicals before the season began, anyway. Even though he’ll probably come to that realization on his own, I decide to fuck with him anyway.

  “What’s the deal, Collins? Afraid you’ll nut too fast if you go in bare?”

  I can hear the force of his exhale, and I bite my lip as he throws the drawer open. The bottle squirts, the cap clicks, and soon he’s on top of me again, and this time there aren’t any more barriers between my ass and his lube-slick cock.

  “You must want my cum in you so fucking bad,” he murmurs against my ear.

  I shudder, not bothering to deny it, and rock back against him. “Quit fucking talking and get your dick in me, asshole.”

  His knees dig into the mattress, his thighs clenching on either side of me to keep me pinned down—as if I’m going to go anywhere now. One of his hands is pressed to the bed, and the other must be around his dick, because I can feel the hot tip of it lining up with my entrance.

  I moan, pushing back against him again, until the crown of his cock pushes inside of me.

  “Fuck,” Collins hisses.

  The discomfort I’d normally feel at the very beginning is nowhere to be found, replaced with a growing need for him to be seated fully inside of me, his big dick filling me again and again as he thrusts into me so hard it threatens to break me. I want it so fucking bad, and when he goes slow, pushing into me bit by bit, letting me acclimate to his girth, I feel like I’m going to lose my god damn mind.