20. EASTON

TWENTY

EASTON

I'm in the video lab, watching last season's game tape with everyone who was in the playoff team. I can't be sure if this is a learning opportunity or punishment, but it feels like the latter.

Watching us lose game seven of the Western Conference finals depresses the fuck out of me, so I take out my phone to message Knox.

I hate that ever since we decided to do this casual morph from kind of friends to kind of dating, we've both been too busy to really do anything about it. It's been days since our midnight date, and I haven't seen him since. The only saving grace is we've known each other since we were kids, so we don't need to get to know each other on a basic level. I know all the big things about him. Where he grew up, what his childhood was like, why he doesn't accept any of his mother's money and works to support himself. I know all the foundations that make Knox him, so this whole transition to something more should be easy.

"Should" being the problematic word. Because I'm stuck here, watching the team's failure over and over again while our video coaches go through and point out every individual mistake we made, and Knox is at home, doing nothing but waiting for his shift to start tonight.

I stare at my phone, deciding what to say. I have my screen brightness turned down, and I'm in the back of the room, so it's not like anyone would be looking over my shoulder. The main thing that's missing from what we're doing is the sex part of casual sex. That intimacy we need to experience to see if there's even a chance for us to work or if I've built up being with Knox so much in my head that there's no way he could live up to my sex expectations. Sexpectations, if you will.

If we can't physically be together, I at least want to know what he fantasizes about. What he wants in bed, what he likes. Then when we are together, I'll know exactly what to do to drive him wild.

But how to start that kind of conversation without it feeling as cheap as all the other messages he probably gets on the gay dating app we came out to each other on?

Maybe I should use the app instead of texting directly. There's something about doing it through the app that has that level of separation. Something that's just us without the thought of Connor hovering in the background. It's where we've had all the deep conversations. You know, all two of them. Coming out to each other and then asking advice on when I should come out to the world and how to handle my family.

So, I type without thinking.

Me:

Dick pic?

So much for not making him feel cheap.

Me:

Haha, just joking. I'm bored. So was just saying hey. Though I wouldn't be opposed to a dick pic, just saying.

Knox:

Aren't you supposed to be on the ice? *narrows eyes* Is this Connor testing my honorability ?

Me:

Honorability of not taking my virginity? Should I tell him that ship sailed so long ago, it has already done a full circle around the world?

Knox:

Prove this is you.

I glance around the room because I'm in real danger of laughing.

Me:

How am I supposed to do that while reviewing game tape with half the team in here?

Knox:

Oh, so telling me a sweet story of how when you were sixteen years old you came over to my house "looking for Connor" when you knew full-well he wasn't there because you wanted to see me is too much, but asking me to send a dick pic where all of your teammates can see is okay?

Me:

Exactly. Also, that never happened.

Knox:

Okay, that was a test. I know it's you now. If you really want me to send you a pic of my junk, you're going to have to do something for me.

Me:

What?

Knox:

Make him look good first ;)

Me:

Want me to go shopping for a sequin outfit for your dick?

Knox:

Nah, ref stripes would be way sexier, but I was thinking you could do something for me now.

It takes a second for me to realize what he's asking for. He wants me to make him hard. I slink down further in my seat.

Me:

What if I told you all I can think about is your cock and how I want to have a chance to have it in my ass before I'm traded.

Knox :

Ooh close, but reminding me you might be leaving makes my dick sad.

This time, I do laugh, and Humphries in front of me turns to see what's so funny.

"It's a gay thing," I say, and he turns back around.

Me:

What if when you get home tonight, you use your key to get into my place and wake me up by wrapping your mouth around my cock?

Knox:

Will you go to sleep with a plug in for me? So when I do come wake you, you'll be ready to go? I could fuck you and have you back asleep within five minutes. Tops.

Me:

Five minutes? I don't think that's the brag you think it is, big guy.

Knox:

It is when we're on shitty schedules and you need your beauty sleep.

Me:

Fuck off, I'm beautiful always.

Knox:

Sorry, I meant to say you need your emotional beauty sleep so you don't punch your own brother at practice.

Me:

I want to protest, but you're probably right about that. I think tomorrow I only have an afternoon drills session. I can sleep in.

Knox:

Oh look, that worked.

The next second, an image of his hard cock with his hand wrapped around the base appears, and I internally sob because this was a bad idea. The head of his cock is swollen and pink, and I want to lick it.

Really bad idea. I might never be able to leave this room without broadcasting I'm hard, and then they'll think it's because game tape does it for me. Or they'll assume I have a kink for being degraded with the way our coaches are telling us all the reasons why we got kicked out of the playoffs.

Knox :

Be ready for me tonight. I promise I'll last more than five minutes.

I'm full of terrible ideas today. Though, technically, this was Knox's idea. I'm naked, spread out on my back with my legs in the air, and fucking myself with a plug. I need to stop, but it feels too damn good. I'm so hard, and all I'm thinking about is the image of Knox's dick.

Did he jerk off before he went to work?

While I was getting reamed for a rogue high stick that saw me get a double minor in overtime last season, was he … reaming himself?

I picture him doing exactly what I am right now and love the fantasy. Him fucking himself, ooh, maybe with a giant suction cup dildo on the floor. Sure, the bedrooms at his place are carpeted, but this is my fantasy, so for that reason, they're tiles in my head.

But as I let my fantasy play out, I begin to realize something. I still have no idea what Knox likes. Does he ever bottom? He obviously tops because he's promised me a good fucking tonight. I assumed he was vers like me, but maybe he's not. I'd be okay with that because I live for bottoming. I love a good prostate tickler. I love it when my feet tingle and I get a whole-body orgasm from playing with my prostate.

Like right now. I push the toy inside my ass again and get that buzz of pleasure when it hits the right spot.

Fuck.

I have to stop myself before I come. I have to. But I can't.

I search around for my phone with one hand and then try to snap a pic of what I'm doing, but it's really hard to get the right angle.

Damn it. I throw my head back on the pillow, still my hand, and try to take a deep breath. If I were to come now, I'd be recovered by the time Knox got off work. Probably .

Hopefully.

But if I can manage to hold off from coming, build up that tension in my balls, the release when Knox is inside me is going to be so much more explosive.

After I've managed to calm down and pulled myself back from going over the edge, I reposition my leg and snap another pic. It's still blurry because my hand is shaking, but it gets everything I wanted in there. My cock, which is so hard it's leaking, though the precum can't be seen in the image, my balls tight, and then the toy half lodged inside me with my hand on the handle.

My face isn't in it, which is perfect for if our phones ever get hacked, so even though it's a little out of focus, I send it to Knox anyway and say:

I really hope I don't come before you get here.

I'm sure he has said that he's not allowed on his phone while he's serving customers, but I know for a fact from times we've eaten at his restaurant while he's been working that he has it in the front of the cute half apron he wears.

When I think about him pulling his phone out while he's in the kitchen, waiting for orders to be plated, and then him seeing what I'm doing to myself …

I hope he sees it and immediately starts faking being sick so he can come home.

I know he needs the tips, but I need his tip more.

Actually, I need more than just his tip. I need all of him. If holding off my orgasm doesn't kill me, waiting for him might.