by Shannon West
He arched his entire body and yelled out hoarsely, tremors vibrating all through him. I waited a moment for him to get used to me, and then I rolled his hips up higher and began to thrust into him fast and hard, so hard it pushed his head up to the headboard and kept him pinned there. He raised his other leg and draped them both over my shoulders and writhed beneath me, bowing up under me. I continued to stroke into him hard as I told him in great detail what I would do to him if I ever caught him again dancing with another man the way he did earlier with the blond. He was mine and he needed to learn that fact.
My words drove him wild, and he rubbed himself against me, hissing with pleasure as I stroked into him. He whined and bucked up against me even harder, his face lifting up to seek my mouth. I found his prostate and pounded into it for a while, watching him come apart. He came so hard, his cum soaked the skin between us, and I milked him through his release with my hand until he whimpered. When I released him, he fell back on the bed like he’d been shot
I moved one hand to his flagging erection and stroked him relentlessly until his cock began to sluggishly refill. He was limp and thoroughly fucked and not usually up for a second round so soon, but I was still hard and I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. I’d have to make sure I took care of him more often in the future and kept him too well-fucked to even think about running away from me again.
I increased my own strokes until I felt the orgasm washing over me, filling me with all the pleasure I’d been missing for the past two days. When I finally recovered, I slipped reluctantly from his body and fell down beside him on the bed. I put my hand down to catch some of my own cum leaking out of his hole and smeared it across his ass, marking him. To make extra sure, I leaned over and sucked up a red mark on one of his ass cheeks as he moaned and whimpered. I pulled his thong back in place and pulled him up to sit beside me.
“Now,” I said. “It’s showtime for you.” He staggered ahead of me and I admired his pretty red, cum-smeared ass all the way out to the stage.
Chapter Eleven
Kingston
The flogging was almost anti-climactic after that and it went by fast in a blur of noise and lights, pain and pleasure. I was wiped out, and I noticed that when Memphis brought me onstage and secured me to the St. Andrew’s Cross, he had a quiet word with Ben. He must have told him to keep it short and light. Ben used a flogger that mostly just warmed my back and shoulders and he barely touched on my hips. Almost before I knew it, Memphis was taking me down and over to the side of the stage to give me water and hold me tightly against his chest. He whispered to me, and I could have sworn at one point he told me he loved me, but I must have been dreaming that part. The events of the past hour had me flying higher than I ever had before, and I was glad Memphis was there to catch me if I fell.
I remember clinging to Memphis a lot and at some point, being sort of halfway carried again, stumbling along beside him in the parking lot, with my arm around his neck, but this time I had clothes on, and he was helping me to his truck.
I was drinking water from an ice-cold bottle and between that and the fresh air blowing in the window, I began to come out of it on the way home.
“Okay, baby?” he asked, glancing over at me.
“I will be as soon as we get home. I need a shower.”
“We can take one together. Where are your clothes?”
“Downstairs in Malachi’s apartment.”
“That’s where you’ve been hiding out?”
“I wasn’t hiding exactly…” He gave me a sharp look and I shrugged.
“Okay, yeah. That’s where I was hiding.”
“That guy hates my guts.”
I smiled at him and took another sip of my water. “Yeah, he does.”
“Well, I’m grateful to him that he gave you a place to crash. You can get your stuff in the morning.”
“Who said I’m coming back?”
I got another look. “Okay, I’ll go down and get it in the morning.” I yawned so big I almost broke my jaw and he smiled at me.
“Tired, fireball?”
“Exhausted. Malachi and Billy’s couch isn’t too comfortable.”
We drove on in a companionable silence for a little while, and then he leaned over and switched on the radio. It was playing some sad Brooks and Dunn song. He listened to it for a while and then glanced over at me. “I missed you when you left.”
“I had some things I had to work out.”
“Did you work them out?”
I shook my head. “I never told you I had a brother, did I?” Without waiting for an answer, I gazed out the side window and kept talking. “He was just a kid when he died—he was eleven.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been tough on your family.”
“It was—both my parents took it really hard. My father started drinking and my mom just kind of faded after that. Eric was kind of the golden boy, you know? I thought I had to take his place to make things go back to the way they had been before.”
“Kingston…” he said softly, and reached over to squeeze my knee.
“I tried—I really did. I worked so hard to be all that he would have been. The best student, the star athlete, the good son. But it never seemed to work. I couldn’t be him, no matter how hard I tried. Then a couple of days ago, my father finally said what I know he’s been thinking all along. He told me that I was a disappointment and a failure and I should have been the one to die instead of Eric.”
Memphis’s hand tightened on my knee. “What?” he asked, so softly I could barely hear him. “He said that to you?”
I shrugged. “I knew he felt that way, but it was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. I didn’t…I didn’t take it too well.”
“God, baby, I’m so sorry. You know that’s total crap, don’t you?” He hit his hand on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe that mother fucker said that to you!”
“That night I left…I started thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe you’d be better off without me. I don’t want to mess up things for you, Memphis. Your dreams for the NFL.”
He pulled off the road so fast, I had to grab the dashboard to keep from bouncing off it. He turned to face me, reaching over to put both hands on my shoulders. “You listen to me, Kingston. You could never mess anything up for me. I’ve always been out, and I’m not going back in the closet for anybody. Not my dad, not the NFL, not anybody. Whatever happens, we’re going to be together. It’s not a sure thing that I’ll get a chance to play anyway, but if I do, then you’re coming with me. If I don’t, then we’ll make another dream. I love you, fireball. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before, and I was planning to tell you later tonight or maybe tomorrow in a little more romantic setting, but there it is. I love you, and I won’t lose you again.”
“But…”
“But nothing! I know this is a little fast. It is for me too, and I’m willing to wait until you feel the same way about me.”
“I already do.” I reached up and touched his face. “I love you too. I tried really hard not to, but I’ve always been guilty of doing the opposite of what’s expected.”
“I don’t want to lose you again, babe—not to my stupid temper, not to your crazy ass father and not to any mixed-up ideas you might have about yourself. You’re it for me, Kingston. And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how perfect you are, how perfect we are together. Will you give me that? Will you let me show you?”
I smiled at him then and it felt like I was making him a solemn vow. “I will,” I said, and then he pulled me in for a kiss, and we stopped talking altogether.
Chapter Twelve
Memphis
Twelve weeks later
I watched as Kingston paced back and forth in our borrowed locker room—the National Championship game was always played on neutral ground for both teams. Sure, we’d been practicing on the field and using this locker room for the past week, but that definitely didn’t make it feel anything like home. I’d be ly
ing if I said I wasn’t worried about Kingston. I damn well knew how important his routines were and how badly he needed to know that one of us, preferably me, had control of what happened around him. Being away from everything he’d grown comfortable with could easily mess with his head, make him crave something to take the edge off. So far, he’d been fine, but I couldn’t help worrying about him.
Looking around the crowded room, I knew this wasn’t the place for me to offer him what he might desperately need. We had nearly thirty minutes before Dad would make his appearance and give a speech that fans and the media somehow expected would lead to us winning or losing a game. Idiots. Games were won on the field, driven by blood, sweat, tears, hard work, planning, and luck—not my father’s full-of-himself speech.
“You okay?” Kingston asked, somehow sneaking up on me while my mind had been focused on him. “You don’t look okay. You look worried.”
“Worried about you, babe, that’s all,” I answered truthfully. My hand waved around the room as I added, “I can only imagine how all this stressful shit messes with your head.” Another roar sounded from somewhere above us—the fans were going crazy, ready to see their team play for the biggest honor in college football. I literally cringed when I heard what sounded like thunder since the locker rooms were beneath the biggest part of the stadium. “Fuck, fireball, even that shit is making me nervous.”
He smiled. “Come on, Memphis, don’t be such a kitten. This is your second national championship game and my third. Between the two of us, we should have the whole ‘I’m nervous’ bullshit covered.” He shrugged. “Anyway, all eyes are on you, daddy’s boy. The rest of us, especially me, should be able to fly under the radar.”
He was teasing, but it still hurt me to hear him say it. After all his progress, his opinion of himself wasn’t nearly as high as it needed to be…not as high as I viewed him. I grinned down at him, realizing that I needed him in my arms or over my knee. Maybe even more than he did.
Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the door. Malachi stepped in front of us, blocking our escape with his over-sized body, and frowned at me. He flashed a quick smile to Kingston, but had only a scowl for me. Seemed about right. It would piss me off if I didn’t appreciate the fact that he and the rest of the team took care of the man I loved.
“In twenty-seven minutes, Coach is gonna come through those doors, and he’s gonna expect both of you to be in here. Do we have something to worry about?” His frown deepened. “If Coach ain’t happy, we all pay the price, not just the two of you.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to back his shit down, but Kingston beat me to it.
“Malachi, we’re fine, and we’re not going anywhere. Memphis is just a little nervous about the game and I need to help him focus. Otherwise, he might just fall apart and cry like a little kid in kindergarten.”
Malachi snorted out a laugh and I gave Kingston a look. I was so gonna spank his ass!
Malachi snorted. “Figures. He got lucky last year, King. Thank God you’re here to keep him in line this year.” He stepped aside and opened the door for us. “I happen to know there’s an empty room down the hall, third door on the left. Take him in there.”
“Thanks, Mal. I’ll calm him down and we’ll be right back.” Kingston bumped fists with Malachi. “Fourth championship in four years—it’s ours.”
“Damn straight it is,” he declared with a huge smile. “Twenty-five minutes now. Hurry up, kids.”
The halls were three-deep with people who probably didn’t belong there but had managed to cheat their way back into the secure zone. Neither Kingston nor I paid any attention to any of them. A few people spoke and offered their fists for a bump, but neither of us did more than acknowledge them with a quick fist smack. I walked ahead of Kingston, determined to find us a spot with much-needed privacy. My hands itched to touch him. My body craved the familiar feel of his muscles under my hands. I opened the door Malachi had told us about, shoved Kingston inside, and then pushed his body against the nearest flat surface, molding my body against his.
“You know I love you, don’t you, Kingston? I love every damn thing about you. Regardless of what happens during this game or afterwards, I want to spend the rest of my life making you the fucking happiest man in the world.” Between kisses, I said, “You and me…forever…just the two of us. You’re it for me, Kingston.”
He kissed me back with as much passion as I gave him. When he drew back to catch his breath, he countered with, “Now’s a fine time for more love confessions, Memphis. Your timing really is shitty, isn’t it?” He reached up and kissed me…slow and deep.
Thorough.
He marked me with his mouth.
For the first time in all our exchanges, he was in complete control. His heartbeat was steady. His eyes were dark with passion but alive with fire. I’d been worried for nothing. My fireball was full-on in control of his worries and insecurities.
“I love you, too. A lot,” he added. He winked at me and kissed me again—a soft, sweet kiss. “Like you said, no matter what happens tonight, it’s only the beginning of our lives together. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you.”
“Fucking perverts!” An unfamiliar voice screeched at us from the doorway, causing me to jump in surprise and then quickly place my body between the man who’d invaded our privacy and Kingston.
“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?”
He ignored me completely and focused all that rage on Kingston. “You’re amazing! I honestly thought there wasn’t anything else you could do to make me more ashamed of you than I already was, but you’ve somehow managed to be even more sickening than I ever dreamed possible.” The man looked between the two of us. “You’re a faggot, Kingston? Seriously?” The stranger laughed hysterically. “Worse than that, you’re a fucking faggot with the man who stole your future. News flash, boy, you’re supposed to sleep yourself to the top, not the bottom. Goddamn it. How fucking stupid are you?”
Kingston stepped around me. “You don’t need to be here, Dad. How did you even get back here? Never mind, it doesn’t matter—just get the hell out. None of this has anything to do with you. We’re done, remember?”
I felt my heart tumble around in my chest. His father? This fucking animal was Kingston’s father? He made my arrogant, asshole father seem like a saint.
There was so damn much that needed to be said, but words, all the right words that Kingston needed me to say, disappeared from my mind and mouth, leaving me helpless the one time when I needed to be the strongest. Fury and helplessness washed over me. I couldn’t punch the man—he was still Kingston’s father—but punching him was the only reasonable action my body could come up with.
“It has nothing to do with me?” He barked out a disgusted laugh. “Are you being serious right now? Embarrassing me by losing your position on the team wasn’t enough? Deciding to become a fucking teacher instead of taking a position in my company? And now I find out that you’re letting this bastard fuck you too? Would it be possible for you to be any more of a loser?” He shook his head. “I’m not seeing how that would be possible. Why, Kingston? Why did you have to live and your brother die? He would have never been such a…a…pathetic failure!”
While I stood there, mouth gaping wide open but no words of support escaping their prison, Kingston’s father stepped even closer to him and said, “It should have been you, Kingston. You should have been the one to die—not your brother!”
Kingston stood proud. “Yes, yes, I know. You’ve already said so. Maybe you need some new material, ‘cause this shit is getting old. You hate my guts, you wish I was dead, blah, blah, blah. You’ve made it more than clear over the years. It used to hurt that you were so ashamed of me or that I knew if you could go back in time and alter history, you would have changed it to where I found your gun instead of my brother. You can’t, though, Dad. You can’t change a damn thing. You’re the one who left that gun unsecured. You lost your favorite chi
ld—my only brother—because of your own fucking laziness and stupidity. Who’s the real failure here? You better back your shit down and start learning to deal with the fact that you’re the one who killed Eric. Not me. If you’re looking for somebody else who should have died instead of my brother, maybe you should look no further than in the damn mirror.”
The man made an almost feral sound of pain and rage that was hard to understand, but I think it was something along the lines of “Fuck you, faggot!” He lunged toward his son as if he were going to attack him.
I finally snapped out of it and leaped to put my body in front of Kingston’s seconds before the bastard landed a solid right hook. It had been meant for Kingston but thankfully, I’d taken the sucker punch. I wanted to kill the man—everything in me screamed at me to do it. How fucking dare he talk to his son that way? What in the hell had he done to Kingston over the years to make him feel like he wasn’t loved? To hurt him so much he had to take a blade to carve up his skin? I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the person responsible for Kingston’s issues stood right in front of me, and I wanted nothing more than to punish him for his sins.
At least the bastard had the sense to take a couple steps back once he realized he punched me instead of Kingston. Not only was I bigger and meaner, but I held absolutely zero affection for the man. No doubt, he’d used Kingston’s love for his family to keep him beaten down and under his thumb through the years, but he had nothing on me, and he knew it. Fuck it, this asshole needed killing.
