Page 36 of The Brotherly Shove

I just know that if I were to come out as…whatever I am—queer, pan, bi—the media will be all over it. Add in the fact that I'm in a relationship with and in love with my quarterback? They're going to have a goddamn field day. That's the only reason I haven't found a rooftop and a megaphone to publicly announce that Breaker Lawson is mine, all mine, hands off!

What's happening right now with his career, leading a trailing, underdog team full steam ahead towards a possible playoff bid in his rookie year is practically unheard of in the league. I want all the attention to remain on him, the team, and our game, and not about the exciting tittle-tattle of two professional football players being happily in love.

The minute this season is over, I'm finding that rooftop and megaphone and then the entire world will know that the gorgeous, floppy haired, hazel eyed quarterback that is a living embodiment of what dreams are made of belongs to me, and only me.

Right now, Breaker and I are standing on the sidelines, watching our special teams unit await the punt from Los Angeles. It's the fourth quarter, and like most games since Breaker stepped on the field earlier this season, the Redwoods are dominating. Our defensive line has been stamping out O-lines left and right, only letting through a handful of touchdownsacross five games. On offense, we've been nearly unstoppable. Breaker quickly found his footing and has been playing like a seasoned veteran. I have no doubt in my mind that if this is how he broke into the league, in no time at all, people will be calling him one of the greatest of all time.

On the field, our receiver makes a fair catch and we jog out to the twenty-five yard line to start our drive. The first play is a far flung forward pass sent to Andrews, a tight end for the Redwoods for seven seasons. He makes the catch and runs twenty-seven yards before being pushed out of bounds, moving us across the fifty and to our own thirty yard line.

Another forward pass to Andrews moves us to the fifteen. Just two plays and we're already sixty yards closer to a touchdown. Unfortunately, our next play, a fake pass and run by Smith doesn't move us forward enough for the first down. Neither does the next play, or the one after that. By the time we reach fourth down, we're two yards short of a fresh set of downs. Coach doesn't even bother acting like he's going to send out the field goal unit. Everyone in this stadium knows what's coming next. We line up in formation, the entire offensive line practically on top of each other. I hold my breath, praying that no one on our team jumps offsides before the snap.

I yeet the ball backwards into Breaker's waiting hands, and duck down low when I feel him jump onto my back. Eight or nine pairs of hands push at my ass as Los Angeles's entire defensive line falls on top of us. I push forward until I can no longer move and the officials blow the whistle. I don't even need the pile to clear and the call from the refs to know that we got the first down. The stadium is rumbling with energy. Screams and claps and cheers, the shaking so akin to a seismic event that I have to wonder if the tectonic plates beneath us actually shifted.

We line back up, and I snap the ball. Breaker steps back, looks left, right, and left again, finds Andrews, and they connect right in the end zone. Another touchdown.

With less than three minutes to go, and behind by two scores, Los Angeles has no chance. We've essentially wrapped this game up and tied it with a pretty red and gold bow.

The field goal kick is good, giving us the extra point. LA gets the ball but it comes back to us after a three and out attempt from them, and we run back out to the field as a formality. We're already past the two minute warning. A few snaps, a few knees, the clock runs down and the win is ours.

The next few minutes are a blur of cameras, reporters shoving mics in our faces, high fives and head butts. I find Breaker chatting with a running back from the other team, and I jog over to snag his attention.

"Good game, man," I say to the other guy, giving him a quick handshake. It wasn't a good game for them and judging by the look on his face he knows it, but whatever. It's the proper sportsman like thing to say.

"Hey, B," I say, turning towards Breaker and placing a hand on his shoulder pads. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I don't wait for him to answer before I'm turning and heading towards the tunnel. I don't need to turn around to know that Breaker is following behind me. Who needs to see when I can feel him like a cool breeze on the back of my neck?

"Where are we going, Len?"

"We're getting out of here before Coach forces us into the pressroom," I say as I search the large concrete hall inside the stadium. I spot a supply closet with it's door wide open across the way. It looks like a large enough space for both of us to fit in. Even if it wasn't, I can think of worse things than being pressed against Breaker in a confined space. I give a quick looksie around to make sure the coast is clear before taking himby the hand and dragging him into the room with me. I whip him around, slamming the door behind us and pushing him up against a wall of shelves. Something falls from the force with which his back hits the wall but I ignore it. I can straighten up after I get Breaker off.

Even though the post game adrenaline is mixing with the heady lust that I always seem to feel around Breaker and coursing through my veins like electricity delivered via an IV, I manage a steadying breath as I tilt my head, slanting my lips against his and brushing a soft kiss across his sweat and salt slicked lips.

"You played amazing, baby," I murmur against his mouth between teasing nips and kisses. His hands come up to my shoulders, and not for the first time, I mentally curse the ten million pounds of pads separating his palms from my bare skin. Breaker sighs into my mouth and I kiss him harder, licking at his lips until he opens up and his tongue begins to tangle with mine. It's an intricate dance that we fall into, our lips and tongues and teeth knowing each step by heart. His hands find their way to my face and then up into my sweat slicked hair. The tie holding my locks up and out of my face falls loose as Breaker sinks his hands in further, tugging at the roots as though hanging on to me is necessary to keep him secured here on Earth.

I drop my lips to his neck and his head drops back, exposing his beautiful, delicate throat to me. I bite and suck at his pulse point, reveling in the feel of the fluttering proof of his rapid heartbeat, his life's blood, how excited he gets for me.

"Lennon," he moans, and my cock thickens in my pants. I press my groin into his thigh, the thick ridge of my erection bumping up against the pads on his pants. God, I could come just like this. Fully dressed, drenched in sweat and still in uniform, rutting up against the man I love like a cat in heat.

"Lennon, honey," he repeats as he attempts to push at my chest. Too bad he's not getting away from me that easy. I move in even closer, pushing him further into the shelf behind him and up on to his tip toes.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" I whisper against the shell of his ear before nipping at the sensitive lobe and he groans.

"We could get caught," he says, but his voice can't lie. It's soft and breathy and so sexy. He's not going to tell me to stop. He doesn't care if we get caught. He wants me just as badly as I want him. I mean, just ask his hips and how they're fucking up into me, desperately seeking friction. A dark giggle rumbles from somewhere deep within me as I start to work open his padded pants. I'll only be able to work them open up far enough to get his dick out, but that's fine. I don't need him naked, I just need him in my mouth.

"Then you'd better come quick, sweet thing. We wouldn't want anyone seeing your cock buried down my throat, now would we? No, those glassy eyes and those raunchy moans and groans are all for me, aren't they?" I purr as I sink to my knees. I tug at the laces holding his pants up, loosening them enough that I can reach my hand in.

"Lennon, I'm sweaty and disgusting," he says, then hisses when I press my face into his groin, inhaling deeply. My cock twitches at the scent of his musky, masculine skin. His pheromones get me higher than a shot of heroin to my bloodstream. I press open mouth kisses to his erection that is straining against the warm fabric of his boxer briefs, hot and hard. Bless him for forgoing the cup. I don't need anything else keeping me from the thick sweetness he's hiding from me.

I feel Breaker's resolve crack when I palm his cock, gripping him through his underwear and giving him a squeeze that I know from experience will give him that perfect balance of pain and pleasure. I look up at him, his head rolled back andhis hands on my head, massaging my scalp. I reach up to the waistband of his briefs and tug, slowly, teasing.

Right before the moment of bliss, the moment when his glorious cock bounces out and I get to swallow it down, we're met with the bright light from the hallway, a gaggle of giggles and the sound of a door being slammed open. Breaker nearly jumps out of his skin, pulling his pants together and haphazardly attempting to tie them up while turning away. I, on the other hand, am sort of frozen down here on my knees. I know I should stand up, but my brain and my body aren't exactly on the same wavelength at the moment. I look over my shoulder and spot the team owner with his wife's back pressed against his chest, his lips on her neck, one hand on her swollen, pregnant belly and the other on her breast, neither of them having noticed us yet.

"Lennon!" Breaker whisper-shouts at me, snapping at me to get off the floor. That gets the attention of our intruders, and both of their eyes snap open, spotting me on my knees, my hair mussed from where Breaker was running his hands through it and Breaker, red faced and holding his pants together. I feel for him. Those ties are a pain in the ass to lace up, especially when getting caught with your literal pants down.

"Well," James coughs, breaking the silent tension. "Looks like we're not the only ones who get a little…excited after a big win, are we sweet girl?"

I feel the heat of embarrassment flush my face and I scramble to stand, realizing I'm still on my knees, panting at Breaker's feet like a desperate cock slut.

“James, I—” Breaker starts as I find my footing, but James stops him with a lifted hand and a stern look.

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