by Eden Finley
Miller lets me have what I want for about three seconds before he’s pulling away way too soon.
“No, no, no,” I murmur. “No talking.”
He pulls back even more. “We have to.”
Damn, that can’t be good.
Miller wouldn’t fly across the country to break up with me, right? If he wanted to do it in person, he’d wait for me to … Shit, it’s not like he’s gonna do it at training camp. Or over the phone or text.
The look on Miller’s face almost has me dropping to my knees and begging him not to do this.
Instead, I blurt, “You were right.” At the same time, he says the exact same thing.
“What?” I ask.
“Have you ever wanted something so fucking much that when you get it you’re scared it’s not really happening, or you’re worried you’ll mess it all up, or you can’t actually believe you have it?”
“Umm … no.”
“You’ve never thought to yourself that instead of having constant dread hang over your head that it’d be better to give up completely because at least then you’d have an answer?”
“Still no.”
Miller huffs a laugh. “Bottom line is, I want to be with you. I don’t want to live without you. I’m not even sure I’d know how to anymore.”
Exhaustion weighs down my words. “I want the same thing, but it doesn’t have to be publicly. After all this contract drama, I can more than see your point.”
“Going that well, is it?”
“We’re not even out yet, and I’m already dealing with the blowout from it. And you were totally right in saying I have no idea what it’d be like, because the mere fact I have to fight a team of people who are supposed to be on my side means this is just the beginning. It’s only going to get worse. Turns out I have no idea what to do when I don’t have control of a situation.”
Miller’s eyes are sympathetic. “Those who shout what year we’re in and say it’s easy to just come out have no idea. This industry wants to chew us up and spit us out.”
“Spitting is never good etiquette.”
He levels me with his shut up look. “I’m trying to have a moment here.”
“Sorry. Continue.”
Miller covers my mouth with his hand so I don’t interrupt again. “There are a million reasons not to do this. There are a few good reasons to go for it. But there’s only one reason why I’m here. It’s you, Marc. Always you.”
I’m not even sure when he removes his hand from my mouth or who moves first, but next thing I know, I’m kissing him again.
Fierce and claiming.
Heat travels over my skin when Miller lifts the hem of my shirt and his fingers skim down my stomach. I’ll never tire of his touch, his mouth, his body against mine. It’s where I’ve always belonged, but I was too busy looking at everything and everyone else to notice.
Miller grounds me, makes me less impulsive, and settles the ever-buzzing energy I usually have.
He makes me more human, and I love him for it. Not just the love I’ve always had for him, but the type I never knew existed.
“I love you,” I blurt.
Miller pulls back and smiles. “’Bout fucking time you caught up.”
I try to shove him, but he holds me firm.
“We should do the Lennon article. Actually … I’ll rephrase. We’ve done the Lennon article. We should tell him to print it.”
“What?”
“Lennon wrote an article on what you guys talked about that day we were supposed to sit down with him, and I had him rework it so it involves both of us and the truth about coming out in this industry. Why it’s still hard. Why, even though there’s been an athlete in nearly every sport come out, they’re still lonely fish in a big pond. Statistically, there has to be more.”
“But what about—”
“The fallout is gonna suck, but we have a great supporting network around us even if your management team isn’t involved in that. We can get through it if we promise we’ll get through it together. That we’re in this together. Just us …”
He hasn’t brought up the threesome thing since the day with his PT, and while I can’t be sure he’s hinting at that or is going for a us versus the world thing, either way, my answer is the same.
“Only us,” I say.
He’s all I need, and if Miller had to step back to become more confident in what we have, then I can’t complain about his freak-out. I think deep down I knew he’d come around after he had a chance to think it through, but that one little voice in my head telling me he could walk away damn near broke me.
“I have something to show you.” Miller disappears into the bedroom, and I follow him. He pulls out some stapled papers from his bag, flips to the last page, and hands it over to me. “I want to give you everything you want.”
At the bottom of the page, the last line of the interview reads:
When asked how he feels about Marcus Talon, Shane Miller smiles. “I’ve been in love with Marc since before I knew the possibility of having him was a reality.”
“I thought everything we did in college was just about sex. That it was a kink I had to want to share women with you, but it wasn’t. I was falling for you way back then.”
“About … uh, that. I have a surprise for you.” Miller glances toward the bathroom. “It’s kinda a compromise on the three-way thing.”
I follow his gaze and narrow my eyes. “Is there a hooker in the shower? Because I feel like this is a test … in which case, my answer is no. I don’t want the super-hot, super boobish hooker in the bathroom, thank you very much.”
Miller laughs. “No hooker. Although, I’m sure if I’d asked, I could’ve gotten the desk clerk up here. She’s a USC alum, and she’d heard stories about us.”
“Our reputation precedes itself.”
“Dunno if that’s something we should be proud of.”
“Is that slut shaming I hear again?”
Miller grins, and I’m thrown back to that morning in my bathroom after we took home those girls … wow, a year ago already.
“What?” Miller asks.
“What, what?”
“You look weird.”
“Thanks.”
Miller huffs. “You look like you’re concentrating. It’s alarming.”
“Ha-ha. I’m having one of those ‘How did we get here?’ moments. It’s kinda surreal to think of where we were a year ago.”
“Probably not as surreal as this.” Miller takes my hand in his and leads me to the bathroom, and as soon as I see his compromise in the shower, I have to laugh.
“Only your true love brings sex toys as compromises.”
“It was super fun bringing that through security at the airport.”
I laugh, but Miller wraps his arm around me from behind and leans in to kiss the side of my neck, and I no longer find it funny. I tilt my head backward, giving him more access.
“I was thinking about that threesome scene we love. You know, where there was a guy in the middle ...”
“You want me to fuck a Fleshlight while you fuck me?” My cock leaks at the thought.
“I may not want to share you with real people, but I don’t see you falling for an inanimate object anytime soon.”
“I dunno, inanimate objects don’t talk back.”
“You know what else doesn’t talk back?” Miller asks.
I wait for him to continue.
“Guys who have their mouth full of cock.”
I laugh. “You better get to work then.”
Miller tilts his head. “Hell no. I meant you.”
“You want my ass, you have to suck my dick.”
“They should make that into a bumper sticker.” Despite Miller’s protest, he sinks to his knees.
He makes quick work of my pants while I shuck my shirt off and throw it somewhere.
“I’m gonna prep you while I’m down here, so spread your legs a little more.”
I do as he says, and he rea
ches for the lube on the bathroom counter.
When slick fingers grip my balls, I can’t contain a loud moan. He’s barely even touched me, and I’m ready to explode in his face.
God, now I’m thinking about cum dripping off his cheeks, his chin, his upper lip, and I have to quickly grip my dick to keep it under control.
“Someone a little too excited?” Miller mocks. “Need to come first, or can you hold out?”
“Hold out,” I rasp, and it sounds like a lie.
Miller chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”
The challenge in his voice makes me nervous, but as soon as his fingers make their way between my ass cheeks and press against my hole teasingly, I’m brought back from the edge by one finger slipping inside.
It’s still awkward, that first touch, and I have to remind myself of how good it’ll get once I loosen up. It’s a hell of a lot easier to remember that when Miller takes my cock in his mouth, and it’s so warm and wet I barely register when the finger pushes in farther. I have a stubbly mouth on my cock and fingers in my ass, and although the sensations are still new and a little uncomfortable, I can’t get enough, because no sex has ever been as good as when Miller’s inside me. Owning me.
Miller adds a finger and works me open until I’m panting and dangerously approaching the edge once again. He must sense it, because he stops.
His fingers slip from my ass, and my hole pulses, trying to bring the full sensation back.
Standing, still fully clothed, Miller reaches for the lube and passes it to me. “Get your cock lubed-up and ready to go. I want to watch you use the toy for a bit first.” Miller slowly undresses while I stroke my cock, watching him. Shirtless now, but still with pants on, he swats at me. “Get in the shower already.”
Under the spray, I run my hands over my hair and enjoy the heat beating down on my body.
“Talon,” Miller barks.
My eyes fly open, and I love how he becomes impatient. When I line my cock up with the Fleshlight suctioned to the tile wall, I make sure to keep my eyes on Miller. That is, until they roll back into my head. Damn, who knew these things felt so good?
My hands fly to the wall, trying to grip onto something but fail. I still and take a few breaths, and when I finally find my composure, I test out a few small thrusts because I don’t know how sturdy they make these toys, but I quickly have no control over what my hips do anymore.
A groan comes from behind me somewhere. “So fucking sexy.”
And then Miller’s hands are on me, slowly moving down my back and gripping my hips. His hard, latex-covered cock rests against my ass cheek, and I find myself sticking my ass out as I continue to move in and out of the toy.
“Do we need the condom?” My voice comes out as a breath.
“Want to go bareback? Are we okay to do that?”
“I am. Haven’t been with anyone but you since the last team health check.”
“Same. Guess we don’t need this then.” He pulls the condom off and drops it to the tiled floor.
Then his fingers are back, sliding straight into my ready hole.
“Need your dick.” I don’t have to tell him twice.
Miller applies more lube, and with one swift move, he thrusts inside me, all ten million inches of his huge-ass motherfucking cock, and I feel like I’m being torn in two.
I love it. My ass pulses around him.
“Feel any different?” Miller’s voice rumbles in my ear.
“So good. So fucking good.” Not as good being filled with his cum will be.
“You gonna take all of me?”
I nod.
“Can’t hear you.”
“Yes,” I hiss. “All of you.”
“Might wanna brace yourself.”
Miller moves slowly at first. A roll of his hips, a tiny thrust. Every move he makes, I do the same to the toy, and I swear I’m two seconds away from passing out. Pleasure rolls through me, from my head to my toes and then back again.
I never want it to end, but I fear it may kill me if it doesn’t.
When he goes harder, my hand slips, and I almost headbutt the wall. I have to rest my forearm against the tile instead.
Miller pounds my ass until my vision blurs and the water runs cold, but the heat between us is enough to keep me warm.
The magnificent drag of Miller’s cock over my prostate over and over again has my orgasm hitting out of nowhere. My whole body trembles, and my moans vibrate off the walls, but Miller continues his punishing pace.
While I spill into the Fleshlight, every time Miller moves inside me, it drags out my orgasm. My legs go so weak the only thing holding me up right now is Miller.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Miller grunts.
I turn my head to look at him. “Yours.”
Miller’s arms wrap around me as if holding on for dear life as he comes. My cock becomes oversensitive, and I have to pull out while Miller slows and catches his breath. “Always?”
“Forever.”
Chapter Thirty
MILLER
Damon’s plan works to a tee although the timeline is moved up. Team management is informed, but the public article goes to print before we get a chance to tell our teammates. It starts with rumors and is confirmed by Lennon’s article. And that’s how our lives have imploded.
Everything we feared would happen has.
We’re photographed constantly.
We can’t step outside our houses or go anywhere without someone following.
The articles spreading hate about gay being contagious and pulling Jackson into it are fewer than expected, but they’re a lot harsher than anticipated. The fearmongering is out of control.
Worse yet is all those people we were scared about coming forward have—guys I hooked up with in college and girls Talon and I shared. Although it’s interesting to hear we were hooking up with each other even back then. It was news to us, but apparently, these women remember it differently.
We know to let it go, but it’s hard when there are lies out there mixed with the positive things about us. And there is positivity among the negative, which we’re both thankful for.
But social media is the evilest thing to ever evil. The positive sometimes outweighs the rest but not always. Yet, I can’t seem to stop checking it. Masochism is a shitty trait to possess.
Football is a man’s sport #nohomo
If Marcus Talon and Shane Miller get married, their celeb name would be Sharcus.
Who cares who bones who? #loveislove #teamSharcus
#ConGAYgious. First Matt Jackson. Now two more. Soon the whole NFL will be gay.
I thought San Francisco was the gay city #herecomesChicago
The reason football players wear helmets is to stop them from kissing.
TALON AND MILLER ARE SO FREAKING CUTE! #teamSharcus
I wonder who plays wide receiver in the bedroom.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
“You on Twitter again? I told you to stay away from that bullshit,” Talon calls out from his kitchen. I must be making my grumbly noises aloud.
“Would you believe me if I lied and said I wasn’t?”
“Well, no, because you just told me you’re lying.”
“Oh. Right.” I stare at my phone again.
Talon appears and throws himself down on the couch next to me. “Anything new?”
“Same old, same old. Although, Henderson is getting more passive-aggressive every day.” I show him Henderson’s latest tweet that’s a picture of guys in military getup.
These are real men.
Talon points to the photo. “Bet you that one on the end is a total bottom.”
I snort.
The hashtag #teamSharcus trends for a week after we come out. Worst ’shipped name ever, but we’ll take it. We’ll accept any of the positivity that has the power to drown out the negative noise.
“You ready to head out?” Talon asks, and if I’m honest, the answer is no.
Facing our team for the fi
rst time? Excuse me for not jumping for joy at being reunited with the guys who gave Jackson hell when he first joined the Warriors.
As if sensing my dread, Talon reaches for me. “It’ll be fine.”
I scoff. “Uh-huh, sure.”
The drive to Jackson and Noah’s place is silent because we’re both mentally psyching ourselves up to do this.
A year ago, we were on Jackson’s doorstep in Chicago trying to convince him to come out with us to meet the rest of the team. This time, we’re here for a different reason, but the same queasy, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this feeling is there. Last year was for him. Now, it’s for us.
After I knock, Noah answers the door.
“He’s not coming with you guys,” he says quietly. “He doesn’t want to make it worse for you, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to justify all of you being on the team and all that other bullshit.”
“We get it,” I say. “But thought we’d try anyway.”
From what little Noah’s told us about how Jackson’s doing, we know he’s still hurt, and we can understand it. He thought he was making progress. He played his heart out last season, and the team has a championship ring to show for it. But now it’s like he’s back at square one and last season didn’t matter.
Noah looks over his shoulder and then back at us. “It’s not that he doesn’t support you two—”
“We know,” Talon says.
We’d prefer showing a united front on this, but we completely understand if he can’t face the team yet. We figured it’d be easier doing this in a casual environment than when we have to report for training camp.
Noah sighs. “I’ll talk to him again. I think it’ll be good for him to see the team is still the same team he was on last year, minus the few closed-minded assholes.”
“Thanks,” I say, but when the door closes, we don’t bother waiting around.
We both know he’s not coming with us, and who could blame him?
The stalkery paparazzi are waiting for us outside the bar as expected. There’s no real secret way to invite fifty-odd people somewhere without word spreading. Especially when we don’t know how many of those fifty people are on our side.
