Page 18 of Love On Deck
Sex and darkness usually go hand in hand for him as well—the better to protect his identity. But right now there’s light and space, and he doesn’t dare close his eyes.
Even though he’s watching as it happens, he still gasps at the flat of Drew’s tongue across his nipple and hisses at the suction as Drew draws the peak into his mouth. Connor’s breathless and feeling airy. The air cools the moist trail Drew leaves as he draws swirls along Connor’s abs with his tongue. He brushes his lips along Connor’s belly button, nuzzles the thin smattering of dark hair that leads the way to Connor’s straining cock. His stomach flutters beneath Drew’s kisses.
Drew’s brown eyes look up the length of his body and,fuck,is that hot.
“May I?” His breath ghosts over Connor’s cock, and Connor feels warm all over. Not only because he’s so turned on, but because of the care Drew’s lavishing on him. Consent isn’t much of an issue. He wouldn’t be here if he weren’t consenting, but he gets that you don’t always want exactly what someone’s offering.
“Yeah, yeah…” Connor says.
Drew grasps the base of Connor’s erection, a warm humid puff of air along the length of it, and the hot slick tip of Drew’s tongue laps at the dribble of pre-come. He licks at Connor’s length and then takes the head in his mouth, no hesitation that Connor can detect. He’s been insulted one too many times in regards to his lack of circumcision, but Drew’s words from the other night come back to him, and he relinquishes his pleasure over to Drew’s capable hands and mouth.
“Fuck, Drew, yeah, oh God…” Taking Drew’s words to heart, he goes verbal to try to ease the growing sensations.
Drew’s other hand skims his leg, his side, his stomach. He’s crouched on the bed, knees spread for balance, and his hips occasionally hitch in the air. He sucks the head of Connor’s cock, taking him deeper with each bob until Connor’s glans bumps the back of Drew’s throat.
Connor’s hand wanders, fingers scratching at Drew’s scalp. Drew groans, sucking him deeper. It’s so hot and so wet, Connor’s not sure how much longer he’s gonna last. He takes a breath. Fuck it. Who cares? They have time. Drew said so himself. They can have sex as many times as their bodies can hold out.
Sensing Connor’s impending orgasm, Drew eases off, stroking instead of sucking. He brings Connor to the edge more than once, but keeps an arm across Connor’s hips to provide some restraint to his thrusting. Connor finally reaches the end of his tether and there’s no stopping his orgasm. He tugs at Drew’s hair to warn him. Drew pulls his mouth off and strokes Connor through his climax. Connor lies there, sated and warm, body melting into the mattress.
Drew fetches a washcloth before stretching out alongside Connor, head resting in his hand. Connor cleans himself up before tossing the white terrycloth into the bathroom with stunning accuracy, considering the angle of the trajectory from the bed to the bathroom door. Drew laughs and asks about the Armadillos. They talk for a while, both of them stark naked. The sun’s properly gone and it’s dark beyond the windows. Pin pricks of light float on the horizon. The cabin lights are still on, and lying here in his birthday suit, having a casual conversation should be more awkward, but it’s not. It’s comfortable and it’s nice. It’s so fucking nice.
Connor wants more days like this. Days of hanging out, eating together, maybe even cooking a meal or watching television together, not to mention experiencing deeply satisfying orgasms with someone on a regular basis. He can’t yet. Not until he’s ready to chance his career.
“Hey…” says Drew, tracing the shell of Connor’s ear with a fingertip. Connor shivers at the touch. “Why the sad face?”
Heat licks up his neck. He considers making something up, but decides against a lie. With a shrug and a wave between the two of them, he says, “I wish I could have this. It’s been years since I had a relationship…a boyfriend. I, uh…” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I made a conscious choice to give that possibility up. So I could play ball.”
“It’s contemptible that you had to.”
“It fuckin’ sucks. I see my teammates with their wives and kids or long-term girlfriends and, yeah, I’m envious. I go out with the guys, and they know why I don’t drink, and they’ve always been cool about it. But it’s hard to explain why I don’t pick up jersey chasers or any of the gorgeous women who hit on me in bars. When I need an official date, I usually invite my ballet teacher’s daughter, but everyone’s figured out that we’re just friends.”
Drew’s eyes are sympathetic. “Have you considered coming out?”
Connor studies the ceiling. “All the time, actually. A lot more often lately. There’s a guy in the Brewers organization, a minor leaguer. He’s doing all right, I guess. Whether or not he makes the majors is another question. Personally, the majors has never been my goal, so maybe coming out doesn’t matter as much as I think it does. I just want to play ball, you know? But I’m not sure I’m ready to take a chance with my career. I mean, maybe if I had someone. But baseball is all I’ve got right now, so…”
“Bit of a catch twenty-two, sounds like. Coming out might seem pointless unless there’s someone worth coming out for, but you might not meet anyone if you don’t.”
“Exactly. But the season is so long and my schedule so crazy that even if I were out, juggling a fledgling relationship along with practice and games seems impossible. I couldn’t give someone the time and attention he deserved.”
An unmistakable ring tone chimes faintly from the floor and fills Connor with sudden dread.
His heart stops. “Shit.” His gaze seeks out the clock and then Andrew’s gaze as he scrambles from the bed. “It’s Casey. We missed dinner.”
Another ring tone jingles from the bedside table, and Drew laughs. “That’ll be Will.”
Connor scoops his shorts from the floor and fishes out his cell. “Hello?”
Drew grabs his phone from the nightstand and disappears into the bathroom.
“Where are you?” asks Casey. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
Connor opts to not lie outright and says, “Sorry. I was in the middle of something and wasn’t paying attention to my phone.”
“Working out again? I thought you went to that ballgame with Andrew. Did you miss the ship?” Her voice rises an octave with the last question.
“No, I’m safely back on board. I did. And you could say that,” he says, answering her questions in reverse order and snickering to himself. He’s just had the best sort of workout imaginable.
“We were supposed to spend the evening together,” she says, and a flood of guilt makes him sit heavily on the end of the bed. “I know, Casey. I’m sorry.” He glances at the digital clock. “It’s not too late.”
