Page 35 of Save the Game

He sighs, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at me. “He’s in his room,” he says. “He’ll be out in a second.”

“Cool. You going to give me a speech about treating him right and having him home before midnight?”

“No,” another sigh, and he looks down at his feet, “I know he’ll be all right.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “he will.”

He nods, straightening and pushing the door wide. Stepping back, he waves at me nonchalantly and shouts toward Max’s room. “Have a good night, Max.”

He disappears down the hall, leaving the door wide open in what I assume is an invitation to come inside. I close it gently behind me and step immediately toward Max’s closed door. When I open it, he’s standing near his closet door, jeans halfway on as he pulls them up.

“I’ll be out in a—," he calls, but stops once he sees me. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I’ll be ready in just a second. The bus was late getting back or I would have been ready by now.”

“No worries, take your time.” I sit down on the end of his bed and do my best not to get turned on by the way his briefs hug his legs and package. If I didn’t know Marcos the Grouch was in the apartment, I might suggest we stay here so I could undress him and worship every inch.

“Jesus,” he breathes, and I shake my head. I have to adjust myself; apparently, I wasn’t successful in fighting the boner.

“What?”

“You,” he laughs, buttoning his pants and stepping toward me. “Surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust, with you looking at me like that.”

I grin, reaching out to hook the backs of his knees and pull him to stand between my spread legs. Tipping my head back, I look at him, running my thumbs absently along his knees. I wish his pants weren’t in the way and he could go back to the state of undress he was in when I first arrived. “Sorry. Wasn’t prepared to be smacked in the face with your dick the second I walked into the room.”

Laughing, he puts a hand on my head and runs his fingers through my hair, effectively trashing all of my careful styling. “First of all, my dick hardly slapped you in the face, you drama queen. Secondly, this is my room, and you entered without knocking. Nobody’s fault but yours if you get an eyeful.”

“Well, I wasn’t complaining,” I tell him, and squeeze the backs of his legs in a way that I hope conveys please bend down and kiss me.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkled in mischievous amusement as he bends down and kisses my nose. I screw up my face in exaggerated disappointment and he takes pity on me, kissing me for real this time. Oh boy, oh boy; my entire body hums with delight at the contact, and it hits me how fucking wild I am for this man.

Before I completely lose control and pull him into my lap, I give his lip one last caress of my tongue and pull back. “You taste good,” I tell him.

“I’ll make sure to write a thank you letter to Colgate,” he replies, like a fucking smartass. I run my hands appreciatively up and down his jean-clad legs.

“You’re going to want to wear something a little comfier,” I tell him, and enjoy the surprise that dances across his face.

“For our date?”

“Correct.”

He looks at me, eyes scanning my black joggers and SCU Baseball shirt. “Mm. So you’re not just telling me to change because you want me to take my pants off again?”

“No. Although, that is an unexpected bonus.”

Snorting, he undoes the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them. Leaning back on my hands, I shamelessly enjoy the show. He pulls on athletic pants almost identical to mine and roots around in his closet until he finds plain navy-blue shirt. When he’s done, he holds his arms wide for inspection.

“Better?” He asks.

“Perfect.”

We take my car because I want where we’re going to be a surprise. Max pretends to cross himself and say a prayer when it takes a couple of tries for my car to start, and we spend nearly the entire drive roasting my old beater. I’m a pretty happy guy generally, but there is nothing quite like spending time with Max. His reserved exterior hides a quick wit and a sharp sense of humor, and his laugh is to die for. I’m nearly shitting myself with excitement, as we pull into the parking lot. Putting the car in park, I turn in my seat to get an eyeful of Max.

“Uhm,” he says, leaning forward and looking at the building incredulously. “Are we at a trampoline park?”

“Sure are,” I tell him, leg bouncing with excitement that I can’t contain. Max’s mouth slowly curves up into a smile.

“What the hell are we waiting for?”

Laughing, we push out of the car and I grab his hand as we head toward the front door. He sidles closer, forearm brushing mine as we stroll through the parking lot. When he holds the door open for me, I brush a thank you over the inside of his wrist with my thumb. We tuck our shoes into the cubbies and stand at the edge of the first trampoline. I look down at Max’s socked feet, my stomach performing a strange, swooping motion.

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