They doubled their efforts on their class project, because they were about to lose a weekend. December 13th was the Heisman ceremony in New York City, and Roger had been nominated alongside Sam Bradford and Colt McCoy.
“I’m not going,” he said to general gasps. “I’ve spent so much time on football that my schoolwork is suffering. I can’t afford to lose that time.” Which of course got plenty of play in the press and brought him even more adoration, adulation, attention from the pro scouts.
“You have to go,” Coach Orson said. “You have to represent your team, and your school.”
“You have to go,” Brian said. “You’re going to fucking win this thing.”
“You have to go,” Jacob said. “Because I want to see you get what you’ve worked so hard for all these years. And, I want to go, I want to be a part of this. I want to see this. This is huge!” With the zeal of the converted, Roger’s father had become a hardcore football fan over the years.
“Studying” in Brian’s room one night, Roger sighed into Brian’s chest. They were on the bed, fully dressed, ready to jump up at a knock on the door and “look normal.” They were both too tired that evening for sex anyway – Roger from the grinding pressure of fame knocking on his door, and Brian from the furious concentration he’d been giving to both his homework and his unofficial workouts with the baseball team. All the same, just holding Roger is better than most sex, Brian thought.
“You know this whole thing is fixed,” Roger said with a surprising cynicism. “It’s regional. They don’t give it to West Coast players. It’s all good ole boys down south and back east.”
“I know. But Coach Orson is right. Yeah, man, it’s one more damn thing you have to do, and I get it, that’s getting overwhelming. But look at the bright side.”
Brian reached down, trailed his hand over Roger’s ass, making his lover shudder. “Two nights in New York City. A hotel room. And…your dad has bought our plane tickets.”
Roger jumped up, a Cheshire Cat’s grin on his face. “So you and me…”
“Yep. The star QB, his best friend, and his dad, at the biggest award in college football. What could look more normal?”
“Okay, fine, we’re going.”
Brian and Jacob had lunch at Shake Shack while Roger did press the day before the ceremony. Brian dusted off a double Shackburger with cheese and was thinking about another. Jacob could only marvel at his appetite. “How many calories a day do you burn?”
Brian shrugged. “I don’t know. Plenty.”
“Yes, I imagine you and Roger burn a lot of calories together.”
Brian choked on his French Fry. “I…”
Jacob smiled. “You think I didn’t know? Roger told me.”
“So you know he’s…” Brian looked around, already absorbing Roger’s hyperawareness of the need for discretion.
“I’ve known he’s gay for some time. He told me about your relationship a few days ago.”
“And, um…?” Brian couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, though of course it had to happen someday, right?
“I’m very happy that he’s found someone. But…”
Brian could feel Professor Ehrens’ inquiring gaze, just as difficult to avoid as it had been in his classroom. There was no bullshitting him, as Brian had discovered when he’d submitted his first paper and received a C minus. “But I’m straight.”
Jacob nodded. “Well, obviously not that straight.”
Brian laughed. “Yeah.” He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m gay. Or bi. I see girls, and I still think…um, you know, this is a weird conversation to have with someone’s dad.”
“But you love Roger.”
Brian’s head bobbed definitively. “Yeah.”
“Well, love is love. I can look at him, and look at you looking at him, and I know this is a good thing. Of course,” Jacob said casually, taking a sip of his shake, “if you hurt him I’ll kill you.”
Brian looked at the small, slender man in front of him but saw only his eyes and what was in them. “I believe you.”
Winter in New York can be pretty damn romantic if you do it right. And doing it right meant the two of them strapping on skates at Rockefeller Plaza while Jacob stayed securely entrenched in his shoes behind the railing.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” he said to the two young men, nodding at the statue in the sunken plaza.
Roger and Brian stopped lacing their skates to look at it. Brian remembered what he’d read in the guide book. “Because it’s Prometheus, bringing fire?” he said tentatively.
“Bringing fire to an ice rink.”
Roger laughed, getting the joke, looking at Brian with an adoration that warmed Jacob more than the hot chocolate in his hands.
It was a beautiful crisp evening, crisp enough to keep less hardy souls off the ice, which was a good thing, given Roger’s inexperience on skates. They made lazy circles, Brian pacing himself to stay with Roger but still showing off, skating backwards.
“How’d you learn to skate?” Roger asked Brian, wobbling behind his casually spinning friend. “Ice skating’s pretty gay.”
“Hockey. Not gay at all.”
“Hmmm. Yeah, I can see that. Your big beefy self all body checking the other guys, knocking ‘em flat.”
“You like that, huh, thinking about me knocking guys down. Getting in a hockey fight.”
“My hero.” Roger could stay upright and mobile, but now and then he’d reach out for Brian, who’d lend a forearm to help him keep his balance.
“ROGER! UP HERE!”
Roger looked up sharply at the photographer hanging over the railing, and fell on his ass. The cameraman kept shooting, a picture of the Heisman candidate tumbling on the ice worth more than the casual shot he’d been hoping for.
“Fucker,” Brian muttered. “I’ll kick his ass.”
“No you won’t. Smile and wave.” Roger grinned and saluted the camera with two fingers to his brow. STARS! THEY’RE JUST LIKE US! the latest issue of US magazine would scream the next week, placing Roger’s smiling ass plant picture next to some poor former starlet caught doing laundry.
With a sinking sense of dismay, Brian realized that this was what the future looked like. Roger was going to be famous, super famous, NFL quarterback famous. He could feel it, the lens of that camera up there like a vacuum, sucking his friend away from him. The more famous he got, the more pressure there would be on that closet door, keeping it closed, the more they’d be trying to pry it open.
It wasn’t fair, he thought. The world of pro sports was stuck in a time warp, still in the 1950s as far as sexuality went, even as the rest of the country, save for small pockets of deliberately cultivated ignorance, moved on, got over it.
What kind of life are we going to have? Brian thought. Then he laughed at the thought of himself as a football wife, hanging out with the other wives and working on a charity cookbook.
“What?” Roger asked him as Brian hoisted him back to his feet.
“Nothing. Come on, let’s test out that king size bed.”
“Yeah,” Roger whispered, eyes away from Brian, his face blank but his voice revealing. “I’m cold. I need a hot beef injection.”
Brian was glad he was wearing black pants so the sudden bulge wasn’t so apparent. “Yeah? You want the hot dog vendor to pay you a house call?”
“Yeah. Extra relish, please.”
They were staying at the W, despite Roger’s protestations about the cost. Jacob had insisted on splurging. “We’re not staying at the New Jersey Airport Super 8, or anything like it, and that’s that.”
Roger went to close the curtains on the bustling city, but Brian stayed his hand. “Leave them open.”
Roger opened his mouth to protest. Someone will see. He knew how unlikely that was, but still…nothing was off limits any more, nobody minded their own business when there was so much money to be made minding that of others.
But he let go of the curtain. Brian walked to the bedside and turned off the lamp, to Roger’s relief. Brian came back and put his hands around Roger’s waist, pulling out the tails of the dress shirt he’d worn to his press conference. He unbuttoned the top two buttons and then pulled it over Roger’s head, quickly followed by the undershirt. Roger responded by pulling off Brian’s polo shirt.
The two men stood facing each other, the giant signs outside flashing their seizure-inducing messages, the lights playing off one side of their lean, chiseled bodies, every strobing color coming in at a different wavelength, looking for flaws, bad angles, but finding none. They were perfect, and they knew it, and each knew the other was perfect.
Brian took Roger’s head in his hands, and Roger felt himself go boneless at last. It felt as if Brian could hold his whole body up this way.
“You’re tired,” Brian said, picking up on it immediately. He put a hand on Roger’s waist and guided him to the bed, sitting him down. Brian jumped over him, threw himself up against the headboard, and yanked a laughing Roger up and onto his chest.
“God, it’s a long day,” Roger confessed, his head buried in the thick cleft between Brian’s pecs.
“It’s so…unnatural to not be myself, to work entirely from The Script, you know, honor to be nominated, too soon to tell about going pro, haven’t been invited to the Combine, still have a bowl game to play, blah, blah, blah… Why did they even bother to make us all show up for these? Why not just distribute cards with the completely predictable questions and answers already written in?”
“Because there’s always a chance you’ll fuck up. Go rogue. Go off message. Give them some news.”
Roger laughed. “It was tempting.”
Brian mimicked Roger’s serious tone too well. “‘Yes, it’s an honor to be here and I’m so glad I could share this moment with my father and my gay boyfriend, who’s been putting his dick up my ass a couple times a night to ease my stress.”
“Is it working?”
Roger felt Brian’s fat tube stirring beneath him at the thought of doing it again. He wriggled a little bit to stimulate it, teasing it. Brian sighed with pleasure.
Roger moved down, undid the buckle of Brian’s pants, pulled them down as Brian arched his hips to assist. “Shit,” Roger said.
“You went rogue on me.”
Brian’s puzzled face was clear even in the semi-dark.
“Your undies. Armani Exchange? Really?”
Brian laughed. “What’s wrong with a little fashion?”
Roger shook his head. “No. You’re a dude. You’re my dude. You wear plaid boxers, or boxer jocks, Champion or Fruit of the Loom. Maybe UA. No fucking high fashion bullshit.”
Roger reached under and cupped Brian’s ass. “Otherwise I’ll make you the bottom, candy ass.”
Brian yelped, jumped up as Roger laughed, Brian nearly tripping on the pants around his ankles. “Fuck that!” He yanked the offending garment off and threw a perfect two-pointer into the tiny garbage can.
“That better?” Brian said, standing naked in the city lights.
“Yeah,” Roger said, stripping quickly and getting on his knees on the rough carpet in front of Brian.
“You want a real man, huh? You want a fucking dude to suck off?”
“Yeah…” Roger whispered, Brian’s rough tone perfectly calibrated to produce a vibration deep inside his groin.
Brian was instantly hard, throbbing. Seeing Roger down there, on his knees, he couldn’t help his dark, hot dirty thought…Mr. Clean, Captain America, Johnny Fucking Appleseed, with my meat down his throat.
He grabbed Roger’s head, thrust himself in. The more they made love, the more he saw it – that darkness in Roger, a deep kink that he’d never expected. It’s always the quiet ones who want the whips and chains, Jeremy had said once, and wasn’t that true. Roger loved it when Brian used him like this, took him, rough and hard. It had been a matter of keeping his self-control for a while now, not giving in to his own wild animal side, letting Roger feel out his limits…if he had any!
“Dirty boy,” Brian whispered, and felt Roger tremble. “I have a surprise for you.”
Roger looked up as Brian pulled out, walked to the nightstand, opened the drawer. Brian showed him the piece of paper he’d printed out today in the hotel’s business center, the best email attachment he’d ever received.
Like Brian, Roger had excellent night vision, could at least see that it was a set of lab results. “Is this…”
Brian nodded. “Negative for everything. Everything! Fucking shocked me, let me tell you.”
“So…” He looked at Brian.
Brian smiled. “Yeah.”
Roger laughed. “Oh my God.”
Brian threw the lube on the bed. “Get on your back.”
In a flash Roger was on the bed, legs in the air. He watched Brian’s naked body with nothing short of awe – heroic was the only word for it, his huge chest, massive shoulders, narrow waist and giant thighs. Oh, and that. Between those tree trunk legs, sticking out like a battering ram.
Brian got down between Roger’s legs, buried his face in Roger’s crotch – freshly shaved by Brian just last night. His tongue darted into Roger’s eager ass, and Roger pushed himself into it, more aggressive now, more assertive about taking what he wanted, making Brian give it to him. He put a hand on Brian’s head and pushed it in, forcing Brian’s long fat tongue even deeper into himself. He could feel the shudder of Brian’s dark laughter, his surprise and delight.
Then Brian was hanging above him, hands on the headboard, Roger’s feet curled over his shoulders. He rubbed his cock slowly along Roger’s crack, teasing it, inflaming it. “Get wet for me,” Brian commanded.
Roger grabbed the lube, squeezed the slick stuff from the bottle onto his own cock and balls. “Get me wet,” he commanded Brian.
“Ah, pushy bottom, huh, I’ve heard about your kind.” Brian rubbed his cock against Roger’s, along the sides, getting ¾ of his shaft well greased. The tip was slick, that was the important thing. He pressed it against Roger’s asshole, stopping, looking down at him.
“You want this?” he asked, wanting to be sure. It would be their first time without a rubber, the first time Brian would truly be inside him, skin to skin.
Roger nodded. He put a hand up, stroked Brian’s face. “With all my heart.”
“I love you,” Brian said.
Roger wanted to burst with joy. “I love you too.”
Then Brian pushed. And Roger opened to him, a flower to a bee. Both of them gasped at the difference between rubber and no rubber, the sensation of skin on skin unbelievably good, the softness of it, the ease with which Brian got more and more of himself inside.
Trust, Brian thought. He trusts me, not to do this with anyone else. Maybe ever. The thought of it should have terrified him, he knew, it was a man’s nature to freak the fuck out at the thought of eternal monogamy. But it’s what I want.
Roger could read his mind, could see the surprise on his face. New pheromones were being exchanged between them, bonds being formed beyond the capacity of their brains to resist. Roger nodded, Brian smiled.
Brian readjusted them, raised Roger up so he could kiss him, their flexible bodies fully joined above and below. Fully entwined, his arms engulfing Roger, his mouth attacking Rogers, he began to move inside him, faster now.
“I’m gonna make you mine,” Brian said. “I’m gonna be inside you forever.”
At the word forever Roger started to cum, a gentle but insistent pulsing, as if Brian’s word had reached his most secret and powerful G spot. Brian could feel it, Roger’s cock twitching against his belly, the warm fluid slicking their bodies.
“Fuck…yeah!” Brian crowed. “Fucked the cum right out of you again.” He reached down, scooped the juices up off Roger’s tight abs, and put his fingers on Roger’s lips, his own face inches away. Then as Roger opened his mouth and started to lick his fingers, Brian kissed him, licked them too, their tongues slipping between the hard barriers to dance.
Brian started to grind his hips again, pushing deeper inside Roger, watching his partner’s eyes widen, hearing his sharp breath as he rolled the head of his cock into Roger’s prostate. He ground up against it, savoring the delirious look on Roger’s face, watching as he forced more fluid up and out of Roger.
Roger nodded. “Do it.”
Brian put his hands back on the headboard, Roger’s hands traveling over his torso, his hips, his legs, exploring, then pressing, Roger’s hands on his ass, pushing him in deep. Brian started at last to fuck, years of experience with holes at his command all brought to bear now. He pulled almost, almost, all the way out…before ramming it home. Roger flinched, squeezed his eyes shut, and Brian knew it hurt, to be given that much that fast, but he didn’t say no, didn’t say stop, and how hot was that, oh God, he’s so gorgeous, I’m so far inside him, I can’t get deep enough…
“Here it comes,” Brian panted. “Oh God here it comes.”
“All of it,” Roger commanded through clenched teeth. “All of it inside me.”
Roger’s ass was like a vise on his groin, squeezing him tighter and tighter. Then Brian burst like a melon, turned inside out as he came inside Roger, so good, so hard, Roger’s face, holy crap, his adoring face, their eyes locked as their bodies locked, for good now. Forever.
Now you’re mine, Roger thought. Now you’re mine forever.