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He runs his hand over my hair and walks away. After all the years of playing, there’s still anxiety before a game. You never know how it’s going to go, who will get hurt, which team will be hungrier for the win. Paul knows physical touch helps calm me, so he always makes sure to do something before we start warmups.
The man who has come to mean more to me than anyone else wants intimacy, but not sex. I can care for him, about him, but I can’t be in love with him.
Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment, with this man, in this room. He’s my everything. And that terrifies me. I’m so gone for this boy.
Brendon is a toucher, it’s just how he is. He needs it, but it’s killing me.
“Are you a needy little cock slut?” My body tenses, and my cock starts to thicken under the table. “Or maybe you’re a good little cock sucker? Hmm? Do you need some praise with your degradation?”
“Right now, yes. Feed me.” I’ve been living and breathing your touch lately. If I don’t come up for air, I’ll drown in you.
“You’re comfortable with me, I’m a cuddle whore, and orgasms are awesome. It’s a win-win.” Please don’t break my heart.
If by fine I mean on the edge of a nervous fucking breakdown because I’m a big baby and seeing my old bully has turned me back into a freak, then yeah. I’m fine.
“You’re mine. No one touches you but me. Do you understand?” Paul’s voice is warm but hard like he’s trying to keep himself under control.
My best friend, the love of my fucking life, is in pain and fighting himself.
“You’re my favorite person. You’re my person. There’s nothing about you I would change. You hear me?”
“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll feed you soon.” “With what? Cum?” Paul scoffs, but honestly, it’s not a bad plan .
