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Edee and I stand, waiting for them to finish. I drop my arm over her shoulder and draw her close to kiss the top of her head. She fits perfectly against me. Phia escapes, grabs her purse and rushes to the front door. Prib slowly gets up, not so subtly adjusting his crotch. I slap my hand over Edee’s eyes and growl at him. He shrugs, the smug bastard.

“Hey, I forgot to ask. Phia, why do you have a mirror on your ceiling?” Phia squeaks, throws open the door and runs for it. Edee chuckles as she follows at a normal pace. Prib looks at me with a wicked grin. When he holds his hand up for a high-five, I oblige. Gotta respect the man’s game.

Edee 16.

“I wish I had some Xanax or weed or a shot of something strong to give you,” Lilly whispers next to me. We’re standing off to the side, Tyrone and Lyndell on the small stage, sitting behind a short table, microphones in front of them.

“What? I’m good,” I respond, never taking my eyes off my guys. I’m so damn proud of Lyndell. He’s doing so well, therapy is helping him immensely. His nightmares have decreased, but it’s more than the attack. The therapist is giving him an outlet to express so much of what confuses him in the world. Helps him understand and accept his own illness, and navigate his relationship with Tyrone. Ty is caregiver, brother, best friend, occasional disciplinarian, and so much more. Oftentimes, the brother part is pushed aside. And now that Ty and I are dating, talking about marriage and kids down the line, Lyndell needs to figure out his place amongst all the changes. They are positive changes, but still difficult for him to process. Every day, I see him grow lighter and brighter. Therapy with the right professional makes all the difference.

And now, they are up on the stage, baring all for the world in the hopes that their words reach someone, anyone, and enact a ripple of positive change.

Lilly laughs quietly. “Sure, right. Totally good.” She places her hand over my hands and I still, realizing I’ve been wringingthem in front of me. I’ve rubbed the skin of my hands raw. Shit. I’m not good. I’m worried. Nervous. Scared. Proud. Excited. Terrified.

I don’t want to go mama-bear again. I’d like my chair swinging days to be over.

“Thank you for joining us today. Lyndell and I are grateful for your time and attention.” Ty speaks slowly and clearly, appearing calm and collected. But I see the way his fingers tap on his thigh beneath the table.

“Hi,” Lyndell says, drawing a chuckle from the reporters, as he waves.

“As many of you know, my name is Tyrone Wicawiil. I came to this university on a football scholarship as a quarterback. Football…football was my chance, like many others, to live a life beyond the status quo. To see the world, to be a part of something bigger, to belong to something.” He pauses and inhales deeply. On a slow exhale, he continues, “The first year was everything I could have hoped for. I worked hard, dedicated every available second to training. If I wanted to achieve my goals, I had to prove myself. Prove the university didn’t misplace their trust in me. More than anything, though, I worked hard to provide for my brother, Lyndell. From as far back as I can remember, he has been my world. Everything that makes my life worth living. I needed football as a means to provide for him, take care of him, give him the life he deserves. I am not ashamed to admit that I believe I was put on this earth to serve him. And I have thanked God every day for that blessing.” Lyndell smiles at Ty and gives him a side hug. “After my freshman year, Lyndell and I were in a car accident. Severe concussion, and my right arm and leg were injured too severely to ever play football again professionally. Many of you saw that accident as a death of sorts. The death of my career. The death of mypotential. The death of the millions I could make.” Ty looks at Lyn and grins. “For me, that accident saved my brother’s life. I can never, will never regret that accident because the injuries we sustained uncovered Lyndell’s serious medical conditions, and the treatment for those…they gave Lyndell a new beginning. Thanks to the university, their generosity, and the push from faculty and staff like Coach Brandon Beiler and Lilly Geddes in PR, Lyndell has thrived during his time here. He isn’t just the towel boy for the team, he’s received real world job training, marketable skills, and a network of support that have made him the go-to guy on campus for tough stains.” He pauses for the laughter to die down. “He teaches newcomers in the Good Work program, passing on his hard-earned wisdom. To know him is to love him. It's impossible to be in his presence and not feel joy.”

“He’s doing so well,” Lilly whispers. I nod, because he is. He has them wrapped around his little finger.

“Several weeks ago, several people tried to snuff out that joy. They tried to make him feel less. Unworthy. They assaulted him verbally. They violated him physically—”

“Edee kicked their butts,” Lyndell interrupts. I smile at him and give him a thumbs up which he enthusiastically returns.

“She did. Edee Shingleton took on six assailants by herself, defending Lyndell and herself, while others stood by and did nothing. They watched. They filmed it. All evil needs is for good men to do nothing. And nothing is exactly what they did. I might wear a costume, but my hearing is just fine. The whispers, the judgements, the idle gossip. For the past 4 years, I have taken the hits off the field. I have never been in denial about the court of public opinion, however, so long as no one came after Lyndell, my shoulders were strong enough to carry the burden. This isn’t the first time someone has said something to my brother and girlfriend this season. It’s just the first time someone gotphysical too. And it’s the first time I’ve ever regretted the game. Ever wished I had never picked up that football in middle school. I have remained in the periphery as a mascot because of my love of the game. Lyndell loves to watch the games, loves being a part of the action in his own way. But I’ll be damned if I remain here after I graduate as part of the coaching staff, so my brother and girlfriend can be the punching bags of someone too drunk or too emotionally invested in a game to see their actions, their words have consequences.”

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away. I don’t want to cry now. I need to keep it together for him and Lyndell. “You should have given me some weed or a shot of something strong,” I murmur and Lilly makes a noise of agreement.

“Football means so many different things to different people. For some it’s a hobby. Others, a good time hanging with buddies and eating bad-for-you-food. But for a few, it’s life or death. And it doesn’t need to be. It’s a game. At the end of the day, it’s a game played by real people with real feelings, with real problems that they deal with every day. Whether I play football or not doesn’t affect any of you personally. But watching my brother hurt, watching him suffer because of those who blame him unjustly, affectsmepersonally. I wish everyone had a Lyndell in their life. He makes my days better. Makes me a better man. I am here today, because I will be joining the coaching staff next year. I love this university, I love the game, but I love my brother more. And I’m putting everyone on notice, you mess with Lyndell again, my girl Edee will find the nearest chair and hit you with it.” The reporters laugh. Lilly bumps her shoulder into mine with a chuckle. “This game brings people together, do not allow it to tear people apart.” Ty looks at Lyndell and points to the mics. “You have anything you want to add, Lyn?”

Lyn nods emphatically, leaning close to the cluster of microphones. “Ice cream makes everything better.”

Tyrone 17.

“What has gotten into you?” I ask, dumfounded, as my girlfriend rips my clothing off and shoves me onto the bed.

“Hopefully, you. In about 30 seconds.” She strips fast, crawling up the bed to straddle my lap. My back against the headboard, I sit and stare with my mouth open, watching her big tits sway as she gets in position. That first kiss of her soaked entrance to the tip of my weeping cock sends a shiver down my spine. The pleasure is instantaneous and immense. My hands move to her soft belly, stroking the smooth skin before loosely gripping her wide hips. My fingers sink into her flesh as her body takes more and more of me, until she’s sitting flush and her inner walls spasm around my length.

“God.” She grabs my hands and moves them up to her tits, and she starts to ride slow and steady. Her head drops back, eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between white teeth. I knead the heavy flesh, thumbing the painful peaks, pinching them between fingers, and lightly tugging.

Her head lolls around, her eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, but the depth of emotion that swirls in the chocolate gaze is too much. Too close to my own, like looking in a mirror. Her fingers trace the contours of my abs, over my pecs, and flick at my nipples. Her hips swivel and rotate, her body undulating sensually as she takes me deeper and harder but never faster.

“I love you,” she tells me, her gaze locked with mine. “I am so fucking proud of you. I’m in awe of you. I love you so much. Love your heart. Love your mind. Really,reallylove your cock.” She grinds back and forth on my cock, moaning when I lean forward to lick her nipple before sucking it into my mouth. “How it fills me. I feel so empty without you. I ache for you, every fucking day.”

“Edee.” Her words are like a lit match to tinder. The flames start in my balls and burn their way up, my orgasm threatening to consume me at any moment. Two fingers of my right hand trace her lips, then push inside. Her tongue swirls around them, coating them, then she sucks like she would my cock and I know my orgasm is imminent.

Our bodies shine with a sheen of sweat, she’s working us over good. I love being inside her, any time, any place, any way. But I fucking love it when she takes charge. When she takes what she wants, uses me like her own personal fuck toy. It’s hot as hell. I pinch her nipple hard and use it to pull her closer. She arches her back, thrusting her tits in my face and her ass out. My wet fingers follow the split of her ass and when I circle her back entrance, she starts whining low in her throat, her hips moving a little faster. Two pumps of my fingers inside her ass, and she goes off like a shot. The vise-like grip of her pussy threatening to break my shit off. Her nails dig into my chest, drawing blood.

I thrust up into her a few more times and her pussy chokes my cock until he gives up the goods with a roar. We twitch and moan, kissing sloppily, and exploring the other’s body as we come down from such an epic high. I band my arms around her back, and she melts into my hold, a boneless heap on my chest, her body still cradling my spent cock.

“You were amazing, Ty.”

I chuckle, kissing her damp forehead. “Thanks, you too.”

“No.” With a groan, she sits up to meet my eyes. “At the press conference, Ty. You were…so fucking amazing. I meant it, I’m so damn proud of you. Truly.”

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