Page 51 of Save the Game

“Which is better, baseball or hockey?”

“What’s baseball?”

“Definitely still fighting,” I say, and earn myself another snort of laughter. “No, Maxy, we’re not mad and we’re definitely not fighting anymore.”

“Okay, good,” he sighs, nestling his face down into the soft space between my neck and shoulder. His voice takes on a sleepy, mumbled quality as his lips move directly against my skin. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, baby,” I murmur, smoothing a hand up his spine and back down again. Slipping that hand beneath the shirt he’s wearing, I continue the motion against his skin. He relaxes by degrees, body becoming heavier as his breathing slows. I’m not the least bit interested in sleeping at this point; I want to stay awake to make sure that he’s still here in the morning and this entire evening hasn’t been a fragment of my imagination.

Every now and then Max’s breathing stutters—a sharp little inhale with a pause before he exhales. I don’t stop rubbing his back, hoping it soothes him enough that he’s able to hold on to sleep for a little bit longer. It’s Saturday tomorrow, which means neither of us have any obligations in the morning and Max can have a good long rest before his game.

Resting my cheek down against his hair, I close my eyes and continue my ministrations on his back. If I fall asleep, great, if not, at least I’ll have an entire night of memories of Max sleeping to add to my stash.

14

Max

When I wake up, my sleep addled brain takes minutes to make the connection between Luke and the warm body beneath me. Groaning, I carefully unstick my cheek from his chest and raise my head enough to see his face. He’s still asleep, mouth parted slightly and eyelashes fluttering as his eyes move beneath lowered lids. Putting my head back down carefully, I listen to the steady beating of his heart. Coming here last night was the best decision I’ve ever made.

The shirt I borrowed from Luke is rucked up in the back and his hand is caught up near my shoulder blades, as though he fell asleep mid-back rub. Which, I suppose, he probably did, since the last thing I remember is him brushing gently up and down my spine. It was ridiculously soothing, and if I could choose how to fall asleep every night, that would easily make the top five.

I have to shift again, trying to reintroduce blood flow into my left foot. Luke makes a quiet grunting noise, hand twitching; he turns his head, chin colliding with the top of mine, and he groans. Trying to stay still, I’m just beginning to think I’ve gotten away with it and he’s still asleep, when I feel the unmistakable press of a kiss against the top of my head.

“G’morning,” he mumbles, and groans as he arches his back as well as he can with me crushing his ribcage. The movement pushes his dick up against mine and he groans again, both of us silently acknowledging the fact that we’re sporting very obvious erections.

“Morning.” I try not to move too much, unsure whether he’d be interested in letting me take care of that for him. He rubs his hand vigorously up and down my back, the motion a direct opposition to the way he did it last night. It makes me laugh, and I lift my head up to look at him again.

“I love your hair,” he says, trying to run his fingers through it but hitting a snag almost immediately. His lips twitch into a quarter of a smile. “How does it get so messy? You didn’t even move last night.”

“I think it’s more just a perpetual state of being,” I explain. “Messy is the baseline. I should probably just wear it shorter; maybe I’ll get a haircut.”

“Like hell you will,” Luke says indignantly, using his fingers to gently work through a knot near the crown of my head.

“Close shave. Maybe fully bald, if I’m feeling adventurous.”

“Maxwell Robert Kuemper,” he warns, and I crack up laughing.

“One out of three,” I tell him.

“It’s good to know we can still learn things about each other even at these late stages in our relationship,” he says, finally succeeding in undoing the tangle and moving his hand across my head in search of another.

“Idiot,” I tell him lovingly. Sliding up and planting a hand on the bed over his shoulder, I kiss him, brushing my lips gently against his before sweeping my tongue inside his mouth. He arches his back again, pushing himself up and against me. Breaking the kiss, I lean back far enough to see his face. He grins crookedly up at me, dark hair fanned out across the pillow and brown eyes nearly black in the dim light of the basement.

“Want to fool around?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

That is exactly what I want to do. He rocks his hips again, erection brushing against mine, and I flatten my pelvis against him to hold him still. Knowing how diligent he is about consent, I want to get this out before he distracts me.

“Would it be okay,” I start, staring at the way his long eyelashes throw narrow shadows down across his cheekbones when he blinks, “if I…do you want to…”

No amount of dim lighting could hide the amusement in Luke’s eyes. “Yes, you can put your dick in me if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

Groaning I drop my forehead down onto his shoulder. “I was trying to find a classy way to word that.”

“Sir, would you like to be penetrated in some early morning coitus?” He says, adopting a ridiculous accent. I laugh, digging a finger into his side until he’s laughing too. I lift my head back up and we grin at each other.

“There’s just no way around it. You cool if I fuck you?”

“Super cool with that.”

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