Page 43 of Studs Up
Probably. That had to be exactly what was going on with me. Sick in the head and definitely sick in the cock.
…
Dinner was at a loud Italian restaurant in the heart of the city. Several tables had been congregated to accommodate all of us. Nolan had chosen a seat where he could see me without it being obvious I was what he wanted to watch.
My nightmares were filled with eyes staring at me, but when Nolan did it all I felt was warm and fuzzy. They were hard to fight as his eyes flicked powerful waves of dreamy heat washed all over my body. It was hard to hold a conversation with Alex and Ricki Lopez from Denver.
He went to the bathroom. I don’t think anyone registered how long he had been gone except me. I counted the seconds until he came back, and when he did, his face was as passive as ever, but his body was relaxed.
I texted him under the table.
Feel better?
It took a moment, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as he looked down at his lap and then up at me with a scowl.
Would have been better if it was down your throat.
My heart stuttered, skipped, stopped, and then pounded back to life. Every inch of my skin flushed hot. I felt it from my ears to my toes. I was hungry for more, and dinner was dragging on as thirty of us needed to be fed and watered.
A moment later, an evil smile emoji. And I had to ignore him because if I didn’t, I was going to have to take a trip to the bathroom, too.
Looking a little flush, sweetheart. Need something to drink?
I glared at him. I could do that in public because that was normal. His face didn’t change, but I would swear on all my future trophies that his eyes were smiling.
I felt his gaze through the rest of dinner. My heart pounded hard and slow.
When we got back to our room, what would happen? I wasn’t prepared. No condoms, no lube. In my silly head, I thought if I didn’t bring supplies, nothing could happen. I realized now that was a mistake.
Calculations raced through my mind, keeping my cock sober and obedient. For the next two weeks, we were forced to room together as a punishment that was turning into a pornographic fantasy. No one would know. If we kept up the same appearances in public, I could have what I wanted in private. The only way the anonymous texter would know is if they were in the room with us and they were definitely not in the room with us.
I could do this. This was real, and I could have it at least until the international break was over. I could make the most of it. And he wanted it. He wanted it bad. His eyes were burning holes through my skin.
I got back to the room first, and in a fit of nervous energy, I started arranging my things. Refolding and reorganizing until I was satisfied, but he wasn’t back yet, so I did it again and again, until the card reader on the door clicked.
Nolan
Thankfully, everyone took my silence as normal and didn’t try to engage. I couldn’t look at him, or I wouldn’t be able to look away. Jerking off in the bathroom had only eased some of the tension that was coiling in my cock for him. The need to grab him and drag him out of there like a caveman was becoming irresistible.
If we lived in a different world, I would have. But there was no way I was going to jeopardize his trust or his safety. So, I kept my eyes down or away. His texts were no help, and I itched for dinner to be over and for curfew to be put into place. There would be twelve hours for him and me and no one else.
I was weak and the longer we sat through dinner the harder it became to avert my eyes. I found myself glancing at him, then lingering, and then I remembered I couldn’t do that.
One blow job wasn’t enough. I was going to have his whole naked body pressed to mine before the night was over.
When we were finally on the bus on the way back to the hotel, I started to get anxious.
Rushing to get back to the room was not a good look, so I took my time. Made conversation in the hall with Morales about his new baby and then took the stairs one at a time.
When I closed the door behind me, I used all of the locks, including a door stopper. Stuffing it into the gap at the bottom.
He was standing at the dresser organizing his gear. Everyone had their own rituals. He was arranging and then rearranging his shit for the next day. I leaned against the wall and watched.
Holden was tidy and needed his things prepared and together.
During the last call up, he hadn’t left a sock on the floor or tossed dirty underwear into a corner. I would bet a grand if I looked in the bathroom, his witchcraft skin regime would be arranged exactly the same way.
He glanced up in the mirror. He didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything. There were voices in the hall, players and training staff making their way to their rooms, totally unaware of the thick anticipation building between me and Holden.
