29. Jack

Jesus.

He looks terrible. Swaying on his feet, with a depressed, glazed look in his eyes. Somehow, the past eight hours have aged him. He looks older, and broken.

His strong shoulders are sloped forward, arms drooping at his sides. His head hangs, and his posture is slouched. A half empty bottle of booze hangs loosely from his right hand.

I did this to him.

"Bryant," I whisper, my chest aching to see him this way.

He stumbles, and I lunge forward to catch him under one arm, walking him back into the house and into the small sitting room. The leather creaks when he sits down, evidence of how little this furniture has ever been used.

"I"m so sorry," I tell him, keeping my distance because I know he"s upset with me. I"m upset with myself, and I wouldn"t want anything to do with me if I were him.

I"ve undermined everything we"ve accomplished, both of our entire futures so close to getting flushed down the drain. All over a stupid, boneheaded decision made with the wrong head.

What"s that expression—young, dumb, and full of cum?

I"m not sure dumb cuts it.

"I"m so sorry," I repeat.

"It"s my fault," Bryant says, slurring a little. "I shouldn"t have started this. It was inappropriate, and I pushed you into–"

"You didn"t push me into anything," I say quickly, crouching down in front of him. I want to reach out to him, to touch him, console him, hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay. But I can"t. "If anything, I pushed you."

"Pushed me to the edge of sanity," he says, laughing humorously as he takes a swig from the bottle.

"Right back at ya, big guy." I take the bottle from him, raise it to my mouth, and take a hefty gulp. It burns all the way down my throat and chest, warmth settling heavily in my stomach. One more swallow, and then I put the bottle on the coffee table, out of his reach.

We"re silent for a long time. I snuck over here to explain what I"ve done to protect us—to protect him—to let him know how it has to be from now on. But he"s in no condition to hear it, and he won't remember it if I tried.

I"m worried about him in this state. He's so unlike himself. So out of control. So defeated.

He notices me looking at him. "It"s been almost seven years since I"ve had a drink. I thought it would help me feel less—care less. But it seems to be doing the opposite." His hazel eyes are dark, bloodshot. Full of pain. "It never was a reliable crutch."

"Why did you open it?" It"s a stupid question.

"Might as well go for gold." He takes a deep breath, his head hanging low with the exhale. " I"d rather not be sober when they come to escort me off campus, anyway. Maybe they"ll think I was drunk the whole time instead of…of…"

I bristle. "Instead of what?"

He shrugs and hands his head.

"Better to be a drunk loser than a gay one?" He winces at my harsh words, brushing his hand over his face and shaking his head. "What then?" My voice raises.

I feel bad for the state he"s in, but I can"t help but feel something about the way he"s trying to use his drunkenness to explain away what's happened between us this year. It makes my chest ache more than it already does. I don"t want every sacrifice I"m about to make to be for nothing.

"Better to be a drunk loser than let everyone see how broken I am. I"m broken, Jack. So broken that I tried to break you." Once he starts talking, he doesn"t stop. It"s like he"s picked a scab and now the wound won"t stop bleeding. "That first night I saw you, I knew that something was off… with me. I looked at you like I'd never looked at a player before. Like I'd never looked at anyone before. I told myself it was just excitement over the team"s prospects. But it was more. It was darker than that. Deeper. In the time between that night and you showing up here, I dove into everything I could find about you. Where you came from, what your hobbies were, your social interactions, your record, everything. I rationalized that I was helping you, making sure to keep Worth off your back and give you a fighting chance at a better future."

He stops and looks at me with pleading eyes. "If this goes public, he'll realize that some of my threats were baseless. I want you to carry on like you have video proof of that twat spiking the girl"s drink. It should keep him off your back, even if he comes after me for extortion."

"Extortion?"

He shrugs again. "I did everything I said I would do, and I did my best to give you everything you wanted. But I also took something from you. I used a part of you that I had no right?—"

"Bryant—"

"That"s what my statement says. Officially. I wrote it up tonight when I got home. You might have to deal with the embarrassment of being violated, but if they know that I used my position of power to coerce you?—"

"No!" I"m standing now, raking my hands through my hair. "Bryant, no. What the actual fuck!? You didn"t coerce me. For fuck"s sake, if anyone coerced anyone, it was the other way around."

"I knew better. I knew it was wrong, what I was getting you to do. You were an obsession, Jack. You are my obsession. I can't think of anything else, and the level of," he sighs heavily, "...the level of pleasure I get from hurting you, dominating you… It"s not natural, Jack. I"m fucked up, and I fucked you up, and now I"m trying to do anything I can to prevent this from fucking up your future."

It's then he finally breaks. In one fluid movement, he's up, crossing over to where I sat the bottle, and grabs it. He turns the bottle up and chugs, and I watch him guzzle his poison with wide, terrified eyes, blurry with unshed tears. One swallow. Two. Three.

"Stop," I say, and pull the bottle down. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

His eyes look away from me and another piece of my heart crumbles.

"You didn"t force me to do anything I didn"t want to do. After all of these months, I"m surprised you don"t know better." He scoffs, because he knows I'm right. "Ain"t nobody can make me do shit and you know it."

We both know that there"s next to nothing and no one in the world that can get me to do anything I don"t want to do. Almost. Truth is, he's the only one that could be the exception to that rule.

I take the bottle from his trembling hands and put it down, placing my hands on his shoulders, his neck, and cupping his jaw. I run my hands across his stubble and steel myself to be more vulnerable than I've ever been.

"I wanted everything, Bryant. I wanted you. I wanted this. These past months I"ve felt more capable, stronger, freer, than I"ve ever been in my life. You give me something that takes away all the heaviness and lets me see the finish line. I"ve loved every minute of my time with you." I can only hope he"s drunk enough to overlook or at least not remember the tears slipping out of my eyes. Tears slip out of his eyes, too, but at least he has the booze to blame for his outburst.

I lean forward and capture his lips, tasting the sweet whiskey on his tongue. I don"t know how to say how I"m feeling, because I"m not really sure I know what it is. I only know that something is being taken away from me that I don"t want to lose. I pull back and look at him again, wanting to try to tell him…

His knees buckle, and he wraps his arms around my waist. My arms hold his head against my stomach, and I comb my fingers through his hair while he sobs.

Bryant Nicks is larger than life, and not just in the physical sense. His personality, his presence. His strength.

The sobbing man on his knees before me seems so much more human than I"ve ever given him credit for. He's always seemed so infallible to me, and the sight breaks me, wrenching hot tears from my own eyes. And while I know he probably thinks that breaking down and showing this part of him is a bad thing—I know I"ve always thought that about myself—it only endears me to him more.

When our tears are spent, and he"s caught his breath, he tries to stand but stumbles. I help him up, but when he stands up straight, he looks pale, his eyes unfocused.

"I"m going to be sick," he says.

"It"s okay, it"s okay. Come on, I"ve got you."

I escort him to the bathroom and rub his back while he vomits, all bile and rancid amber liquid. After helping him out of his clothes, I turn on the shower for him and he sits on the edge of the tub with his head in the stream of cool water for a while. I hand him his toothbrush while he"s in there and then lead him to bed, tucking him in with a glass of water and some painkillers for the headache I know he"s going to have when he wakes up.

"Don"t leave." He says, his voice low like he didn"t want to say it out loud, but couldn"t help himself. It makes me grin.

"I"m not going anywhere until morning," I say, stepping out of my jeans and pulling my shirt over my head. I slip into bed behind him in just my boxer briefs, and marvel at the satiated feeling in my chest over embracing him like this. He"s so large that I"m not the most effective big spoon, but pressing my ear to his back and listening to his breaths grow heavy as he falls asleep brings me a joy I can't describe.

I listen to him sleep and think about my next steps for a long time. Hours even, before I finally start to doze off.

I startle awake as Bryant shifts, rolling himself on his back and pulling me onto his chest. The bedside alarm clock says it"s just after two in the morning. When I lower my head back down, Bryant is looking at me, bleary-eyed, but coherent.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, pulling back.

"Still drunk enough that I don"t have a massive headache yet, but clear minded enough not to bawl like a little girl and puke again." His face twists into a sarcastic grimace.

"It wasn"t that bad," I say, resting my head on his bicep so I can see his face better. The blinds are open, and the moon is bright, casting a dreamy haze over his bedroom and giving just enough light for us to see each other clearly.

"Liar," he says, and his wry grin helps take some of the pressure off my chest.

"I hear it gets harder to hold your liquor when you reach old age."

His chest shakes with silent laughter, and then he lifts his arm, causing my body to tip and roll onto him. He grabs my face and looks into my eyes before kissing me deeply. Electric flames of desire lick up my spine and buzz through my veins, and my cock grows hard against his hip. He shifts and grinds into me, letting me feel his reaction to me.

"We shouldn"t…"

"Shhh," I whisper. "Don"t think about it. Not tonight."

I crawl down his body, trailing my tongue and lips down his broad chest. I stop to pull his nipples into my mouth, giving them each a hard suck and a little nip before continuing down his body. My nose skims the ridges of his hard abs as I kiss each and every muscle, clenched and flexing. I silently say a prayer of thanks that I put him to bed naked, and rake my teeth over his hip bone as I grasp his hard length in my hand. His hips buck, his cock expanding and hardening before my eyes. He"s fucking magnificent.

Dragging the flat of my tongue from base to tip, I wrap my mouth around him and twirl my tongue around the ridge of his cock head. He moans and presses his head into the pillow before propping himself up on the elbows to watch me. I keep eye contact as I release his cock with audible suction, and move down to lick and suck each of his heavy balls. His eyes roll back when I run my tongue over the flat spot behind his sack, so I double down there. I lift his balls with one hand, while pushing his legs out and up so I can better reach the tender flesh.

"Fuck," he says on a breath, as I lick and suck at his taint.

I tease my fingers along his ass, and he twitches in response, but doesn"t protest. I don't want to take advantage of his drunkenness, but there is something I haven"t gotten to try yet, and I wonder if he"s relaxed enough. It seems appropriate that tonight, likely our last night together, whether either of us wants to say it out loud, that we take everything each other has to offer. That we give each other everything.

Bryant stretches, and then a bottle of lube lands beside me.

"I can never say no to you," he says roughly, in answer to my questioning look. "And if tonight is…"

Launching myself on top of him, I cut him off with a kiss. "Don"t say it."

We wrestle around on the bed, kissing passionately, fiercely, pulling at each other"s limbs. We can"t get close enough, can't get enough of each other. It"s both desperate and tender, and intensely emotional.

I pull back to pull my boxer briefs off, and Bryant lays back against the pillows. He"s propped up, spreading his legs on either side of me, giving me permission to explore and take charge.

His cock looks huge at this angle. It always looks huge, but it looks even more massive, and I"m impressed with myself that I can take him on a regular basis without it tearing me apart. I remember how sore I"d been in the beginning, and the idea of giving Bryant the same pleasure and pain makes my breath catch in my chest. I reach out and touch him, dragging my fingers up and down his cock before gathering the drops of pre-cum on the tips of my index and middle fingers. Shuffling closer, I force him to spread his legs wider for me, and then I reach between us to rub his wetness over his hole. I keep my eyes on him the entire time, watching his eyes dilate with the pressure of me pushing my fingers inside him. His ass is tight.

"Take a deep breath," I tell him, and I push my two fingers all the way inside on his exhale. He groans and his cock twitches, several more drops of fluid leaking from the tip. With my fingers deep in his ass, I lean down and stretch my lips around his big cock, taking him all the way into the back of my throat. I start to bob my head, sucking him hard but slowly, as I start to move my fingers inside him.

It takes him a few minutes to loosen up, and once he does, he"s rocking his hips against me, pushing down on my fingers harder.

"Are you ready for more?" I ask him, my cock straining.

His eyes lock on mine. "I"m ready for you," he says, his voice low and serious.

Keeping my fingers inside him, I use my other hand to squeeze the lube on my dick, careful not to stroke myself too much, because I"m close to the edge already. I"m not sure how I"m going to do this without blowing my load the moment my dick so much as touches him.

With a deep breath, I look up at him to make sure he"s sure. My gaze is locked on his, and as much as I want to see my cock push inside his ass, I can"t look away from him. His expression is unlike anything I"ve ever seen. It"s reverent, and vulnerable, and also completely sure of himself at the same time. When I press my cock into his tight hole, those feelings become my own and I can only hope he sees them reflected back in his eyes.

His ass grips my cock like a fucking vice, and it feels like it"s sucking me inside his body, until I am settled flush against his body. I don"t move right away, letting him accommodate to the intrusion. He wraps his arms around me, and we're kissing again. I move my hips in slow strokes, in time with the movement of our lips. I roll against him, shuddering and laying my head against his shoulder.

Something other than an orgasm is welling up inside me, and while it"s just as imminent, it"s a different feeling altogether. Like a taut string, or a radiant heat, ready to burst. This other thing, settled deep in my chest, is like a balloon. Except instead of popping, it swells bigger and bigger. Threatening to engulf me, cutting me off from the air around me. Suffocating me.

When I come, it hits me with a different kind of intensity. One that sends waves of euphoria over my body and inflates the balloon beneath my rib cage. My last breath catches, and I cry out Bryant"s name, along with something I didn"t mean to say out loud, but the balloon forced out of me in order to make room for more air.

"I love you."

I gasp, as if I can choke the words back into my body, but I can"t take them back and I can"t stop my hips, rutting into Bryant like some kind of animal. It feels like I come forever; my cock just keeps pulsing inside him, spurting like a fountain, filling him up with my cum. I'd stay inside him forever if I could, but Bryant moves, pushing me away and out of him.

For a moment I think he"s truly pushing me away, offended or disgusted with my confession, and I wilt on the bed. But the next moment I realize, I"m on my knees and Brant is behind me, pouring cool lube down my crack and over himself. He presses himself inside me, and I pant. I just got off, but my cock still hasn"t gone all the way down, and it"s getting harder all over again with the pressure of him pushing himself inside me.

Being inside Bryant was fucking amazing, but this is where I belong. Taking him. I"m his outlet and he"s my escape. I can"t think of anything else but him when his cock is stretching me open and filling me so entirely, that I don"t know where I end and he begins. And when he starts to thrust inside me, hitting that unbelievable, overwhelming spot inside me, I come undone in so many ways.

My body and my mind both feel like they"re unraveling. I lose control of everything and become his entirely.

Except… I"ve been his since the moment he tracked me down in some shithole warehouse in South Alabama. Since the first time I saw him on that bench press. Since well before I signed a contract giving him ownership of my body.

I am his, and he is mine.

These are just the only moments that I can admit it to myself. It hurts knowing I won"t feel this again, with any other person, ever.

Once I"ve done what needs to be done, to protect us both—but especially him—will he ever want me again? Is a long-distance relationship between two people that can"t admit they"re in a relationship even possible?

"Say it again," Bryant grunts, and it takes my brain too long to catch up. Say what again? He thrusts his hips into me harder, making stars dance behind my eyelids.

His arm wraps around my chest, pulling me up against his body.

"Say it again," he grumbles into my ear.

Every hair on my body stands on end.

"I love you," I gasp.

Thrusting into me at a punishing pace, Bryant reaches around and strokes my cock, hard and fast.

"Fuck! I love you! Fuuuuck—" I cry out, the heaviness inside me breaking like a dam, and cum sprays everywhere. The pillows, the wall, even the mattress, since the sheets have been pulled off the corner of it in our tussle.

My body shakes with the force of everything crashing down around me, and Bryant lowers me down onto my stomach, still inside me. He rolls his hips, his thrusts firm but slower. I feel his cock pulse inside me, the warmth of his cum filling me.

"I fucking love you, Jack," he says as he collapses on top of me.

The words are both a balm and a punch to my gut. Because this is it. Tonight is all we have.