Seven

seven

Inure: to accept or grow accustomed to something undesirable, to become hardened or desensitized to negative experiences.

TJ

The next day, I park my car near the library. Spencer has been ghosting me since he saw me with my father yesterday. The deeply hurt expression on his face goes on replay inside my head. But believe it or not, once again, I was protecting him.

My father showed up unannounced. He wanted to make sure I fully understand the repercussions in case I decide to go against him and choose football. He’d cut me off, and the trust fund my grandfather left me, my inheritance, would be delayed ten more years since there’s a specific term I need to meet, which is working for the family business for at least five years.

I’d always thought I’d be free from him with all that money. Playing in the NFL is a fucking dream come true, but although right now, my stats would get me a foot in, anything can happen. I could get injured or disqualified. It’s happened before to young players. And then what?

That trust fund is the only reason I’ve been putting up with all my father’s crap. But since I met Spencer, I’ve started to see things from another perspective. Yes, that inheritance is rightfully mine, but do I really need it?

I’ll get my degree next year, and the NFL is probably interested. I did this. All of it. Me . My father’s money helped for sure, but I sweat and sacrificed and kept going. I’m still going.

My father left after a very heated argument, caused by the fact that my mother had a car accident a month ago and was sent to rehab and he didn’t find it significant enough to tell me before.

Then my mother called, asking me to come see her at the facility. She sounded hesitant on the phone, like she expected me to refuse. And I should have after the way she barely acknowledged me all my life. But Spencer again made me change my mind. The way he turned his life around, plus the desperation in her voice on the phone made me go see her. I tried to call him during the two-hour drive, but he never picked up. When I finally saw her and talked to her, my world imploded.

I tried to call Spencer again and texted him several times, but still no answer. I had to go take care of a few things back at home. It took more time than I expected, and I was able to come back only this morning. I went straight to practice, and after a quick shower, I drove to Spencer’s apartment and when he didn’t answer the door, I went to the café. I remembered he told me about studying at the library yesterday. So that’s where I am now.

I jog up the front stairs and push the heavy wooden door, keeping it open for a girl coming out. The temperature is much higher inside the building, it makes me unzip my jacket and shove my gloves inside the pocket. I know Spencer has a favorite spot on the second floor. I’ve thought about blowing him among the dusty bookshelves more than once. But now is not the time.

When I reach the room, I spot him right away. Elbow propped on the table, the earphones wire trailing down his neck, he’s listening to one of his lesson recordings. His deep dedication to his studies rivals mine to football. And it’s one of the things I respect most about him.

Watching him undisturbed starts a butterfly-sensation inside my gut. He’s lovely. The light coming from the tall window on the right forms a halo around him. His red hair has a shimmer to it, a shining glow hovering over his head. It gives him almost an other-worldly appearance.

He looks focused on the book, but after spending all my free time with him the last weeks, I can easily detect the tension in his balled-up hands and the faint frown between his brows. I know it’s because of me. I just hope he’ll give me a chance to explain.

I walk to his table and plop down in the chair next to his. He doesn’t lift his eyes from the book.

So, I tag on one earphone and try with a lame, “Hey.”

He still doesn’t look at me. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Or ever again.” The ice filling his tone reaches my skin and makes me almost shiver.

“I’m sorry. My father is an asshole, I didn’t…”

“Fucking stop with the puppy eyes!” He finally turns to me as a chiding “shhhh” coming from somewhere in the library makes him lower his voice to an angry hiss. “Don’t know your father, but there was definitely an asshole standing in front of me yesterday.”

“I know. I-I turn into an idiot when I’m around him.” I try to grab his hand, but he slides it under the table. Fuck, this is bad.

“No shit!” he mutters. “Don’t want to hear any excuse you came up with now.”

“Don’t push me away,” I growl. Another “shhhh” interrupts me, and I see Spencer closing his books and shoving them inside his messenger bag. He stands up and yanks on his jacket before heading for the exit without waiting for me.

When we get outside, he doesn’t stop walking as he focuses his glare straight ahead.

“I’m not pushing you away. Seeing you with your father was an eye opener. As you said, you are a puppet. You have a life planned, and there’s no place for me. You had your gay experiment, now go.”

“No,” I bark, angry at how easily he’s disregarding me and what we have. At how stubborn he is.

“Yes,” he counters.

“No. I want more.”

“No, you want dick. Look around, you can find it anywhere. You’re a popular athlete for fuck’s sake.”

He’s right, but, “I want your dick!” I grab his arm, but he jerks back.

“This”—he moves his finger from me to him—“was a bad idea from the beginning. We are from two very different worlds—planets. Let’s call it quits now and move on.”

I can’t believe my ears. “Is it that easy for you? To just dump me and go on with your life?”

His silence scares me.

“Talk to me. I deserve an answer!”

“No, it isn’t fucking easy, and that’s precisely why we need to stop now before you leave me again, hurt and broken!” He gasps, and moves his hand over his mouth like he didn’t intend to utter those words, but they just slipped out. His glowering eyes turn glassy, and he resumes his angry walk, almost jogging now.

Damn it, I shouldn’t have gone away like that. I should have explained to him what was going on. But just like him, I’m not used to having someone I can confide in. It’s weird how a few weeks with him can change everything.

“Baby, it’s too late to stop. Can’t you see?” I try to soften my tone.

He shakes his head. “Oh, I can see perfectly.” We reach his apartment, and I follow him up the flight of stairs until he gets to his door. “I see all the reasons why this won’t work.”

“See the other ones then. The ones that make you want to continue.”

He opens the door and throws his jacket and bag on the floor.

“You mean the fucking.” He turns around and fixes his glare on my face.

“No!” I slam the door behind me. “I mean the way one minute you make me smile and the next burn for you. Your capacity to calm me down by holding my hand. The way my stomach makes a somersault every time I see you. How your fingers searched for me in bed when I moved away. Also…”

He suddenly erases the distance between us and jumps on me, crushing his mouth over mine. It’s not a kiss but a retribution. It’s brutal and merciless, all teeth and ruthless fingers clawing at my back. Is he fighting against me or what I make him feel?

I realize that talking is a waste of time since he’s not willing to listen, so I have to show him.

He’s wrapped all around me, legs and arms. I grip his ass in one hand and hold his face with the other as I start to respond to his conquering tongue. I tilt his head to the left and take charge of the kiss, giving him long, slow licks and deep sucks. My lips and tongue growing hungry for his taste.

The all-consuming passion that hit us from the first moment our bodies touched in that shower explodes between us. He starts humping me, rubbing our cocks together as I walk us to his bedroom.

Spencer slides down my body and starts taking off his clothes as he tells me to strip. When he’s done, he moves to his bedside table to grab the lube and lies down on the bed. After pouring some on his fingers, he starts prepping himself right in front of me.

One finger goes in smoothly and another one joins soon after. “Come here. This will be your last lesson,” he dryly declares.

Like hell, it will .

He’s jerking his dick slowly, moaning as he adds a third finger and starts pumping them. I toss my cap and the rest of my clothes somewhere on the floor and join him on the bed.

I know he’s still fucking angry at me and that sex is his way of avoiding his deeper feelings for me, but my aching dick has taken control over me at the moment, turning me into a caveman. I need to fuck Spencer, to possess him, own him, to pour into him all my over-the-top desire and longing, filling him so full of me that he’ll never try to dump me again.

His cock is leaking profusely on his abdomen when I kneel between his open legs.

“No, sit,” he orders, pulling his fingers out as I push my back against the headboard. He straddles me, my hands fall on his hips as the light hair on his legs brushes against the sides of my thighs. I’m trembling all over with anticipation and desire. I try to kiss him, but he lifts his body up and grabs my cock from behind, brushing the head against his slicked, puckered hole.

I grunt, cock eagerly lurching. “Want to fuck you so damn much, never wanted anyone more in my life,” I confess, hoping my sincerity will reach him. He doesn’t smirk at me like I thought he would. He freezes, finally focusing his heated eyes on my face.

I delicately cup his face, and he lets me. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No.” His jaw ticks, his eyes lower. “Why can’t you just let this be a fuck?”

“Because this”—I imitate his previous gesture with my hand pointing between us—“it’s more.”

“Not enough.” Under his anger I can see how vulnerable and unsure he feels. I know he’s thinking about yesterday and the way I turned my back on him. He wouldn’t care if we were just a fleeting arrangement with an expiration date.

“You got it all wrong. My father is not good enough for you, baby. Meeting him… I was scared he’d drive you away from me. That seeing the way I am with him would disgust you. I couldn’t let that happen. I can’t lose you. I won’t.” I try to infuse my resolution into every word.

“How do you keep doing that? Surprising me?” He blows out a breath and covers my hand on his cheek with his. “I’m fucked.” A small smile kicks up his lips as a lonely tear rolls down his face. The weight that has been pushing on my shoulders since I left him disappears.

“Not yet,” I joke, loving the sound of his low chuckle. I kiss him lightly, a gentle brush, and then lick the saltiness off his cheek.

“You have a monstrous cock, I should be nervous, but I’m not,” he states, making me snort a laugh.

“Monstrous?” I smile smugly because I’m proud of my size, but nobody ever called my dick that.

“Stop that. Or I won’t let you fuck me.” His threat is empty. I can feel how much his wiggling body wants me inside. Plus, he’s pouring lube on it.

“Won’t let me fuck you with my monstrous cock?” I grunt a breathless laugh.

His lips pucker in annoyance, but I can see the mirth in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” I turn serious. “There’s no turning back after I take you,” I warn him, because there’s no fucking way I’m going to let him go after tonight.

He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again the sheer beauty and the fierce power of his feelings toward me pour from his deep hazel pools inside me just before he shoves his hips down and impales himself all the way down my thick nine inches.

He shouts in bliss as I groan in overwhelming pleasure. Tight, so fucking tight, it sucks pre-cum right out of my slit. I grab his ass in one hand and tag his head down with the other for a dominating kiss.

He’s mine, fucking mine. From his dark red hair to his pale, freckled skin, amber alert eyes, and long, strong fingers. His quick mind, badass fighting skills, sassy replies, and never-back-down attitude, all mine.

When he grinds on my lap, pushing me deeper, I break the kiss to let out a deep grunt. He starts riding me fast, bouncing that sexy-as-fuck butt up and down my dick, his beautiful lean body moving on top of me, using my cock for his pleasure. All that smooth skin covered in ink on display, I want to discover every curve, edge, and valley with my tongue.

God he feels fucking amazing, and if he keeps hammering those hips, I’ll blow inside him too soon. I grab his hips and hold him still as I begin pushing inside him, slow and steady. It drives me almost mad, the feel of his walls stretching around my cock as I thrust up and then clenching and squeezing around me as I move back out.

“You’re infuriating,” he hisses, sinking his black nails into my pecs and then moaning soon after. “Ahhh. So good.”

“Your ass, I swear to God, baby, every slide of my dick inside you is pure bliss,” I growl, grinding my teeth against the feeling of ecstasy at being inside him. I stare right into his glazed eyes as I roll my hips, opening him up more, creating a space for my cock and my cock only.

“You’re so damn big.” He whimpers as I start fucking up into him a little rougher. His expression is one of pure lust. His hard cock jolts between us, spreading pre-cum on our skin. He keeps squeezing my pecs and pulling on my nipples, sending jolts of electricity all over my body.

“You like feeling me stretching you? Making you full?” I lick his neck and bite lightly on the tattoo on his shoulder. I want him to smell like jasmine and sex and me.

“God, fuck yeah.” He grabs his hair with his tattooed hand. The inked eye is daring me to fuck harder, hammer deeper.

Never felt this overwhelmingly deep pleasure. It wants to burst out of me, to flood out of my pores and scatter into the cosmos. And it’s all because it’s Spencer. My Spencer.

He contracts his inner muscles around me, pulling me even deeper. And I can’t hold it anymore. My balls draw up tight, and I let bliss surround me, filling him to the brim with cum, blinded by the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever felt.

I hold him tight against me until my brain turns on again and my heart starts to slow down. I move my head back to look into his eyes. There’s still wariness there, mixed with want and fear. And since words don’t seem to be enough for him, I need to prove to him even more how much I need him.

“Spencer, I want you to fuck me.”

SPENCER

His words keep whirling inside my head as the first finger slips through his pucker. He grunts and pushes his ass higher, moving toward my hand.

He’s belly down on the bed, legs bent and spread wide, forehead on the mattress, hands on his ass cheeks, holding them open. A wet, submissive dream. All those tanned muscles under me, golden locks spread on the sheets, the scent of cinnamon and sex in the air.

After a few minutes, I’m driving three fingers inside him, making him moan every time I thrust.

My ass stings, and I feel more of his cum trailing down my thighs as I stretch his hole. He almost wrecked me with that massive dick of his. Even more with those soulful eyes. He looked at me like I was his entire world while our bodies were joined. It melted my heart and assuaged all of the anger and part of my doubts toward him.

Feeling him come inside me gave me more satisfaction than an orgasm ever had, his warm jizz stuffing me, rolling down my balls, slicking me from the inside.

Then he goes and says he wants me to fuck him. My head almost exploded then and there. He had slowly withdrawn the length of his cock. And it had felt awful. Like he was depriving me of what was mine. Leaving me open and exposed, hollow. I’d bitten my lip to halt the little whimper of loss from slipping out. And then I’d heard the strangled sound he’d made. “You look fucking hot, baby,” he had whispered, staring at my slick, gaping hole just before he kissed and licked it, only once, unfortunately—we’ll get back to that.

He keeps calling me baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. I…like it. Too much. Want him to say it again. What have I become?

I scissor my fingers and crook them until I find that spongy spot inside him that turns him crazy.

“Shit!” he groans, as I press against it again. He makes incomprehensible noises while fucking himself on my fingers. It’s hot as fuck; my dick agrees as I give it a couple of slow pumps.

“I want inside you. Ready?” I ask, not able to hold off anymore.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

I want to shove my cock in his ass, feel him strangling me while I piston my hips over and over. That’s the only way I fuck—rough. But I can’t do that. Not with TJ. I need to be gentle since it’s his first time.

My hands tremble when I place them on his back. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? Am I nervous? It’s his first time, not mine. But I want it to be amazing. Mine was passable at best and a little painful. We were both sixteen, horny and clueless. This is not like that. This feels like…something. I’ve never had sex that means something until him. Because TJ is right, we are more, so much more.

I close my eyes against the happiness spreading inside me, trying to fight against it, since I’m not used to it. Then I open them again when he starts fidgeting under me.

“Do it,” he begs so damn sexily. He turns his head toward me; our dark gazes lock and don’t waver as I start pushing into him. The ring of muscle yields easily, and my cockhead is quickly sucked inside the warmest hole I’ve ever fucked. He hisses, and I stop, caressing his back.

“Breathe. You’re doing so good,” I encourage him.

“More,” he moans after a couple of seconds, and I give it to him. When I’m half inside, sweat runs down my spine and my teeth hurt from all the gritting. I’m trying to control myself, but I can’t stop my hips from bucking. Shallow thrusts, my tip goes in and comes slowly out, stretching his tight, pink hole. The sight makes my eyes cross.

“Fuck, baby.” The emotion filling his voice makes me shiver with lust and hope. And I can’t resist anymore. With a smooth thrust, I bottom out. He gasps, arching his back as I moan in delight at the tightness surrounding me.

“Okay?” I ask, receiving a vigorous nod in reply.

His hands fall on the sheets, and he props his arms up as he starts to move against me, tentatively at first. A moment later, he’s fucking my cock with abandon, letting out the sluttiest sounds.

“Holy shit! Spencer, so good. So fucking good.”

Feeling my length inside him while my own gaping hole is still wet with his cum makes me reach a new level of horny.

“Keep bouncing that ass on my cock, TJ.” That jiggling every time he takes my dick inside is hypnotizing. I spread his butt cheeks to get a better look at our connection. He’s sucking me in like a pro, and I start to rock my hips.

“Yes! Fuck me,” he begs again, his eyes back to mine. I can’t look away from the flames burning there. The redness painting his cheeks. His tongue peeking between his parted lips.

I start a fast tempo, loving the wet sound of his virgin ass being fucked for the first time.

“Your ass feels divine, TJ,” I pant. “So good at taking your first cock.”

He gasps. “Yes, want your cock.” He’s jerking himself—fucking love athletes’ stamina.

“Don’t stop. Right there. Fuck it harder.” Damn, he’s turned wild. He loves to be nailed. He's a slut for it. And I’ll be the only one knowing that.

The possessive thought turns me feral. I grab his hips, and as soon as I start hammering away, he cries out my name in a pleasure-drenched voice as he starts coming.

“That’s right. Come on my cock, squeeze my cum out,” I growl as he clenches around me repeatedly. Out of nowhere, my orgasm crashes into me. And it feels like it just keeps going on and on and on. I fly so fucking high, and when I come back down to earth, I’m still pumping my cock inside him, shivering at the feel of his cum-filled hole. His hips barely move, just a gentle push here and there while I give him lazy thrusts that make him moan as I enjoy the echoes of the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever felt.

I roll on my back, taking him with me, my dick still tucked inside him as my cum drips down his balls. My arm falls on his waist, and he immediately grabs my hand, lacing our fingers. Even his hair smells like cinnamon, how is that possible?

“Fuck, we didn’t use condoms,” he mutters.

I think about it. I love to feel slippery with his cum and to stuff him with mine. I don’t like to have barriers between us. “Are you clean?” I ask him.

“Yes. And I’ve never done it without a rubber,” he explains.

I wait, and when he keeps silent, I frown. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“I trust you.”

I’m baffled. “Why?”

“I just do.” After a couple of seconds, he asks, “Can you trust me?”

Can I? Will he hurt me again? He probably will without wanting to. And that I can bear. It’s okay. What’s not okay is the fear of being abandoned again.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” I whisper. His body tenses, then he untangles himself and turns to face me.

“Who left you?” His voice is soft and caring. It makes me purr like a cat and annoys me at the same time. Perceptive fucker.

“My father bailed before I was born. My mother was an addict, who left when I was a kid, and a couple of years later, my aunt and uncle decided I was too much for them and dumped me in a foster home. I changed foster families three times before I ended up on the street.” An echo of that old pain tries to rise inside my chest and almost rolls down my eyes. I take a big breath and blow it out, willing the ache to leave my body as well. “So the question is, who didn’t leave me?”

I don’t see pity on his face, only anger on my behalf. It eases the tightness in my chest, knowing that he cares so much.

“You’re fucking amazing.” He grips my chin and leaves a hard kiss on my lips before pressing his forehead to mine. “I won’t leave you. Ever. From the first moment I met you, I couldn’t stay away. I need to know where you are, if you’re happy or annoyed, if you need me, if you’re reciprocating my consuming thoughts.” His confession brings happy tears to my eyes. It’s hard, but I push them back.

I stroke his cheek, and he tilts his head, leaning into my touch, rubbing his skin on my palm like an eager fucking puppy.

“Those sweet, brown eyes. I couldn’t escape them, even if my whole being kept screaming at me to turn around and run.” My candid words bring out a glowing smile on his lips. I kiss them, trying to swallow some of his happiness, to make it a part of me. A part of him to carry with me always.

“Come to the game this Friday,” he asks, when our mouths finally part.

“Is your father going to be there?” I hazard, not knowing why I’m asking him that.

“No. He never comes to my games. And even if he was, I’d ask you to come anyway. I learned my lesson.”

“I’ve faced people much worse than your father.”

“I know you’re a badass, baby.” He smirks, and I can see the admiration in his sparkly eyes. I would preen like a peacock if I wasn’t exhausted. Didn’t sleep a peep last night.

“Are you also aware that I know nothing about football?”

“I noticed that, baby, when you called Lamar Jackson the quartermaster or when you asked how teams score a goal.” He chuckles at my expense.

I glare at him, earning a laughing peck on my lips. “So why do you want me to come tomorrow if I’m so ignorant on the matter?”

“I need you to learn about football since that’s what I’ll do with my future, NFL or not.”

His words shock me. “What about your father and your family business?” Did he find the courage to grab his life by the balls?

“Let’s just say that my mother is finally redeeming herself,” he says cryptically, and what he adds next turns my mouth slack and my hands into fists.