Driven Snow (26 page)

“Hey, you’re only twenty-one. Who says you can’t come more than once?” Snow laughed, and the happy sound dove straight to Riley’s cock, along with the amazing flashes of fire sparking into his balls.

Snow put his slender hands on either side of Riley’s upright cock. Riley grinned. “What are you up to?”

“Watch.” Snow started rubbing his palms on either side of Riley’s dick like he was making fire.

“Jesus!” A shock of pleasure soared up his cock, into his balls, through his spine, and set off fireworks in his brain. “Oh, oh. Oh shit!” Going, gone. All determination be damned, cum flew out of his cockhead like Snow had succeeded in starting that bonfire. “Oh my Goooood.” His hips thrust on their own, froze, and shuddered through the near painful pleasure of the release.

Finally his trembling stopped. Eyelids fluttering, he managed to look at Snow, who gazed at him with undisguised delight and pure cat-in-the-sun satisfaction despite his cock being stiff as a fire pole. Riley tried to smile. Too much effort. “Wow. Where in hell did you learn that?”

“From Romeo.”

Riley was ashamed, but he tensed.
Relax. Not like you’re a virgin, asshole.
“Obviously he didn’t get his nickname by accident.” He laughed, and it sounded halfway genuine.

“Yes, he showed me that move on a bright pink dildo. He was quite proud of its size and girth, so I didn’t disappoint him by saying you’re bigger.” Snow grinned and fireflies danced in his brilliant eyes.

“Uh, dildo? Pink?”

“Yes. You didn’t want to know if I’d ever had sex with Romeo, but I didn’t. He was my tutor in the romantic arts, just as Bash taught me self-defense. But we had no personal contact.”

Riley slid his hands behind his head and let Snow’s satisfaction flow though him as well. “I heard you brought that Hunter dude down like a lioness on a gazelle.”

“More like the gazelle turned and kicked the shit out of the lioness.”

“So I guess I shouldn’t hate Romeo, right?”

Snow stalked across Riley’s body like that lioness and stared down at him. “I think you should love him, darling, because we’re about to move on to oral.”

RILEY STOMPED
into the locker room, already in full uniform. The guys were mostly dressed and ready to play, horsing around nervously as they got ready to face their toughest opponent and biggest potential reward. Riley stepped into the middle of the room and yelled, “Listen up!” The guys turned and faced him. Every kind of expression crossed every kind of face—admiration, fear, hatred, derision on white, black, brown, and beige. “Gather around. I got something to say.”

One of the linebackers, Oesterman, called, “You gonna lead us in prayer, Prince?”

“You better pray I don’t kick your ass down the hall. Now get over here.”

The guy frowned, then looked at Riley, who was smiling. He started to laugh. “Let me know when you’re big enough, little man.” But he walked over, still laughing.

“First off, I’m sorry I missed the last practice. I, uh, had to go to Las Vegas for something.”

Fred Furness said, “Yeah, to bust up a ring of potential murderers, from what I heard. Good job, man! The alumni are gonna shit, they’ll be so proud.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected. “Thanks.” He glanced at his shoes, then up. “Look, I don’t care what you think of me. I’m gay, I lied about it, and I’m sorry. About lying, not about being gay. That part I like. I like being who I am. And in case you were thinking I got lured and tricked into being gay, forget it. I’m in love with a guy, so if you don’t like it, fuck off.

“But here’s the thing. No matter how you feel about me, this game is more important than your bullshit feelings. Not because it’s any big deal in the grand quantum reality, but because for some of you, it could mean hella shit for your future. Like you, Rog. I’m not good enough for the NFL, but you are, man. If you let your hatred of me keep you from catching my passes, then a lot more’s going to get blown here than some cock. Same with you, LeRoy. And others, who may not be looking at sports careers, still want to say they were on a championship team. I can’t make you play well. You gotta do that by yourself and for yourself.”

Danny slouched against the locker. “Hey, Riley, what are you going to do after you graduate?”

He smiled. “I hope I can be a college football coach. I used to not think I was smart enough, but somebody changed my mind.”

McMasters’s voice came from behind him. “I hope I was one of those who changed your mind, Riley. You know you’ve got my support and recommendation. This team has never had a better leader.” He looked around the group. “I hope what Riley said sank in. You’ve all got a choice. When you walk off this campus, you’re going to have to get along with all kinds of people. Work with them. Live with them. If you look at Roget and all you see is black or Riley and only see gay, then your chances of being happy are pretty much zero. This game is just one chance out of many to show the world who you are. Take advantage of it.” He stuck his hand in the center, and they all piled on top. “Go NorCal!”

SNOW STOOD
in the tunnel, waiting for halftime to begin, so freaking excited he might barf. He leaned down to that dearest of ears on that dearest of men and said, “Are you sure you’re warm enough, Professor?”

Professor Kingsley leaned back in the wheelchair. “Snowden, you have me so bundled up I may never find my own balls.”

Snow barked out a laugh. “I see near death has increased your wit.”

“And increased your confidence. I’m so proud of you, Snow.” He wrapped his hand over Snow’s on his shoulder. “I truly am sorry to have been such an old fool and put you in danger from that evil woman.”

“We all had lessons to learn, sir.”

A cheer went up from the crowd. “NorCal seems to be wiping up the field with Southern.”

“Yes.” The grin spread all over his face as shrieks of “Riley, Riley” and “He’s our Prince” resounded off the walls of the stadium. Snow pushed the chair a bit closer to the tunnel entrance so they could see better. Riley grabbed the ball from the big guy who threw it through his legs. He ran backward about three steps and then he passed the ball. It sailed and sailed like an eagle in flight far down the field and there, as if planted by some good fairy, ran Roget. The guy held out his arms, and the ball fell into them as he leaped across the big finish line, and the crowd went apeshit.

The professor half rose from his chair and yelled, “Touchdown!”

The band started to play, whistles sounded, and the cheerleaders ran on the field. A guy came up behind Snow and the professor. “It will just be a few minutes now. The dean will say your names, okay?”

Snow nodded and smiled. It looked like Riley might have his win, and no matter what, everyone would see how brilliant he was on the field.

People milled around in the stadium, buying food and going to the restrooms. As the general hubbub started to die down, a singer came on stage and performed. When she was done, the dean walked onto the platform in the middle of the field. Snow gave the professor a short hug.

The dean’s voice rang out over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, we at NorCal are celebrating a lot today, and one of the things we’re most grateful for is the presence of two of our dear friends and hometown heroes. Some of you may know that these two have literally been to hell and back lately. So today’s game, win or lose, is dedicated to these inspiring men—Professor Harold Kingsley, head of our physics department and coach of the championship NorCal Chess Club, and Grandmaster Snowden Reynaldi, who we might say recently wiped up the chessboard with the evil queen.”

Snow pushed the professor out on the big, vast field. The crowd went nuts, laughing and cheering. He looked up.
Wow.
Off to one side, near the front of the stands, stood all the IPis and Mr. Pennymaker alongside Mrs. Wishus. Seeing Bash with tears on his face was definitely scary.

As they got to the platform, the dean said, “It seems fitting that to present our dedication, we’ve chosen the prince of NorCal, our own quarterback, Riley Prince.”

Riley trotted out from the NorCal tunnel, carrying a plaque. When he got to them, he accepted a microphone. “Thank you. It’s my honor to dedicate this game to Professor Harold Kingsley and Snowden Reynaldi, two people who have personally inspired me beyond my power to express.” He presented the plaque to the professor and handed him the mike.

The professor dabbed at his eyes. “I can only say I’m very happy to be seeing all of you, because it wasn’t a sure thing there for a while. But I didn’t do any of the work.” He pointed to Riley and Snow. “These two heroes did, and I couldn’t be prouder of either of them.” He handed the microphone back to Riley and wiped his cheeks.

Riley looked out at the crowd. For a moment, everything was nearly quiet. Then he lifted the mike. “Please excuse me for using this moment for a personal event, but since you’ve all shared in our lives—both good and bad—lately, I think you should be in on this.”

Snow cocked his head.

Riley went down on one knee, and Snow gasped for breath. “I know we both have to finish school, but I also know that I can’t imagine spending a day of my life without you. And since you’ve escaped death twice in the last month, I figure I better not waste time. Snowden Reynaldi, you make me feel smart. Will you marry me?” He opened a velvet box. The simple gold circle glistened.

Snow slapped a hand over his mouth as tears squeezed out of his eyes. The whole stadium held its breath. At the peak of quiet, Mrs. Wishus’s voice rang out. “Say yes, cutie.”

Snow laughed. “Riley, you’ve made my life a fairy tale. It’s easy to forget that fairy tales have gorgeous princes and knights in shining armor, but they also have witches and ogres and near misses with evil. That’s what makes them so important. Yes, I will marry you.” He threw his arms around Riley’s neck, and they hugged. A stadium full of football fans might not be quite ready for a kiss. Snow looked up and whispered, “I’ve learned that I’ll never be alone again.”

IN THE
stands, Hacker said, “They’re pretty young. A lot can happen before they even graduate. Do you think they’ve got a chance at happy ever after?”

Mrs. Wishus leaned over and gave Mr. P. a nudge. “Oh dearie, only their fairy godmothers know for sure.”

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