More Than the Ball (12 page)

“Steven Gerrard,” Dev finished. “Man, I forgot what dorks we were.”

“You were a dork,” I corrected, setting the pizza box on the coffee table. “I was just humoring you.”

“Uh huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced, pulling two beers off their tabs and dropping the rest next to the pizza. “And you were just humoring me when you scared off your half of a blind date because you wouldn’t stop imitating Rooney’s accent.”

“I really think,” I said, dropping my voice into Rooney’s tenor and using my worst Liverpudlian accent, “that it’s unfair of the media to, sort of, characterize me as a... a... some kind of idiot.”

Dev flopped onto the couch, laughing and letting his long, lean limbs sprawl over it. He looked so good like that, so happy, so... perfectly hot. I took the beer he was offering me at the same time as I slid myself into his lap. The beer dropped onto the cushion next to him as I cupped his face in both my hands, kissing him slow and deep.

His hands rested on my hips for only a moment before sliding back to my ass, urging me closer. I spread my thighs a little further and let my hips slide closer, tucked tight against Dev’s now. We both groaned and the sound meshed into something obscenely beautiful in our joined mouths.

I tucked my knee tight against his hip and rolled onto my back, pulling him with me. As he settled on top, our legs tangled, and I felt the tempting heat of his hard cock against my thigh. Gasping at the contact, Dev shifted his own thigh forward, grinding it against my dick.

Just when my hand slipped into the back of Dev’s jeans, he pulled back a little. “Come on, El. Even you need to eat.”

“I can wait,” I murmured, leaning up to tug his earlobe with my teeth - something I didn’t know a week ago would drive him crazy.

“If you wait, we’ll never eat,” he protested, rocking his hips forward and baring a long expanse of his beautifully dark throat. I couldn’t resist a temptation like that.

Just before my teeth caught on his skin, I said, “Then we won’t eat.”

I really thought I’d won this argument until Dev gasped and said, “You’re gonna need all your strength tonight, El. Eat up now.”

With a low growl, I sunk my teeth into his throat, hard enough to be sure I’d leave a mark. I was rewarded by a sharp, pleased yelp from Dev before I pulled away.

“You win,” I said. “Dinner first.”

We moved as little as possible: me sliding up the side of the couch a little, Dev following and resting against my chest. We were upright enough to eat, but we didn’t have to move away from each other, and the heat of Dev’s cock against my hip was enough assurance that he wouldn’t forget what came after pizza.

“Okay,” Dev said quietly. “Assuming you didn’t just plan to charm me into bed without dinner, you must have planned something for while we eat.”

I grinned and reached for my beer. “I did. I think you’ll like it.”

Setting my beer down, I picked up the remote, clicking on the TV and navigating through a series of menus until I got to my stored files.

“Elliot Gates,” Dev said. “If you are about to show me that fucking awful porn from college...”

“Hey, I got a little more class than that,” I said through a laugh. The thought had occurred to me, but this was definitely better. “Trust me.”

“Fine. Play on,” Dev said with a dramatic sigh. “Though it has been a really long time since I’ve highsturbated.”

“Well, I don’t know if this is as good as highsturbation,” I said as I pressed play. “But it’s the only thing on the table tonight.”

The video took a second to play, and when it started it was clear that it was a very, very low-def video of a soccer game.

“Whoa,” Dev said, pushing himself upright. “Vintage.”

I laughed and sat up as well, keeping an arm around Dev so he settled into my side. “Yeah, this took some tracking down.”

“Is this…?” He leaned closer to the TV to get a better look, then back to me with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Elliot. It is! This is the 74 World Cup, Iran against Peru. Jesus Christ, Elliot, do you know how long I tried to find this?”

“What, really?” I asked as he rounded on me, looking almost dazzled.

“Yes, really! I wanted this so bad for the film. Coach in the World Cup? That’s amazing shit. How the hell did you get this?”

“Man,” I said, reaching out to touch him, wanting to be part of his excitement, like touching him would mean feeling it too. “I wish I’d known you wanted it. I talked to some guys at the club, the old boys, you know?”

“Fuck,” Dev said with a laugh. “Of course it was that easy for you.”

I shrugged. “I had to dance with a lot of old ladies to get this.”

“Poor baby,” Dev said, settling back against my side, beer in one hand, pizza in the other. “Come on, then,” he said, straightening up a little. “Let’s see Coach get his ass kicked by Peruvians.”

“You always say the right things, Dev.”

W
e were
both on our feet at the end, when it looked like Iran might at least score one last goal. The beer and pizza were both half gone and long since forgotten.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Dev was shouting, and I was hugging him and yelling in his ear, “I know! I know!”

“He almost had it,” Dev exclaimed. “Oh my god! Two fucking inches! Two inches!” His hands were on his head and he threw them up in the air and stared at me intently. “Two fucking inches man.” He said quieter, more breathless.

My arms were still around his waist, but I pulled back to look at him. “I know, man,” I said, bringing a hand up to curl around the back of his neck.

“I mean... I knew going in they were going to lose 4-1, but... I still thought it might happen, you know.” His voice was a little softer still, and he leaned toward me, his hips canting against mine.

“Yeah, I know,” I said again, pressing my lips against his. Our breath was still coming fast from our raucous cheering, and it felt like I was swallowing his air every time I inhaled.

We stumbled down the hallway, tugging at clothes and disrobing as well as we could without letting go of each other. Anything left on our bodies was removed in a whirling mess once we reached the bedroom, and we tumbled, naked onto the bed. Dev landed on top of me, and I laid back to look at him, raising a hand to stroke my fingers down his torso.

We were just about the same weight, but Dev had always been leaner, a few inches taller and wiry. Almost too tall for a soccer player. I’d always been wider, broader, one of the biggest forwards in the Premier League, but just above average height. The light filtering in the window from the streetlights caught every contour of Dev’s body as he stretched above me.

“Jesus,” I whispered, my fingers darting lower to trace along the curve of his hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Dev laughed softly. “You’re so fucking drunk.”

I pushed myself up to kiss him. “I had one beer, Bandi. Never been a lightweight.”

“Then you’re blind,” he said, his fingers curling into my hair, tilting my head up as he settled into my lap. “There is no universe in existence in which I am anything compared to you. You have been my muse, you know? Every time I frame a shot, I’m thinking of how you’d look in it. Filming you playing was... ecstasy. It was everything I wanted as an artist.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I had to kiss him again because there wasn’t anything I could say to match that. He rolled in my lap as we kissed, and I suddenly realized what I wanted that night, more than anything.

I held his hips and pushed up to him, breaking the kiss only to gasp, “Fuck me.”

“Christ, El,” he breathed against my lips. “Are you sure?”

“Completely,” I said, reaching for the nightstand to find the lube Dev had brought home on his second night here, and one of the condoms I’d picked up myself. “I want... I want you in me.”

Dev growled and surged forward, fingers curling around my wrists as he pulled them up over my head and kissed me hard and fierce. “Fuck, I want that, too,” he whispered, wriggling himself between my legs as I drew them up.

I didn’t even notice him opening the lube, but as his teeth tugged at my lower lip, I felt warm, slick fingers pressing against me, teasing around the ring of tight muscle before one slipped inside, making me gasp.

“You’re good,” Dev murmured. “Just relax. I got you.” He repeated that as his finger moved further into me, and by the time he was easing in a second, it had become like a mantra.

I was about to join in on it when his fingers curled and brushed against something that made my cock jump and my head fall back, a spike of pleasure shooting through me. “Jesus, fuck!”

“You like that, huh?” Dev asked, his voice low and sultry. His fingers curled again, and he rubbed that spot more firmly. I shuddered, swearing loudly. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“All this time I was afraid of butt stuff,” I joked, breathless, panting.

“You never knew what you were missing.” His fingers slid out again, and then he had three pushing in. It was easier now to relax, to settle into one wave of pleasure just as Dev drew another one from me.

I couldn’t manage an answer for him, and a moment later, he was pulling his fingers away entirely, and I heard him tearing open the condom package. My heart was pounding, and my eyes must have been wide because when Dev looked at me, he paused. “Are you sure?” he asked again, curling one hand around my hip loosely.

“I’m sure,” I said, but my voice shook a little, so I said it again. “I’m sure.”

Dev nodded and bent to kiss me slowly as he eased himself in. He took his time, moving so, so slowly, rocking himself into me a little at a time until, finally, he was completely inside me, his hips snug against the back of my thighs, and I felt full and stretched but not in pain.

When he finally started moving, his lips brushed against mine with every slow thrust, and his cock rubbed against that spot inside me, keeping me focused on the slow, teasing stretch of it.

“Come on,” I muttered when I couldn’t take it anymore. “Come on, Dev... come on, baby... fuck me.”

He groaned softly into my mouth and began to move faster, pushing deep into me before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting home again. He bent his head to kiss and nip over my chest, his lips finding my nipples and closing around one, then the other, his hand teasing down my belly until it curled around my throbbing dick.

He found his rhythm there as well, hand moving in time with his hips as he stroked me, firmly, quickly, and soon I was thrusting up to meet him, urging him deeper, feeling so close to my climax but not quite there yet. His hips snapped forward hard and he groaned my name. I felt him coming, pulsing inside me, and a moment later I was spilling over his hand, my head thrown back, a growl rolling from my throat.

I didn’t realize how tightly I was gripping his arms until one of my hands dropped, and I felt how stiff my fingers were.

A moment later, Dev dropped next to me on the bed, stripping the condom off and disposing of it.

“Wow,” I mumbled, and Dev shifted, his head settling on my shoulder.

“Yeah, wow,” he agreed.

I reached over, fumbling in the sheets until I found his hand, my fingers curling around it. “You really have to go tomorrow?” I asked.

“I really do,” he said, and he gave a long sigh I couldn’t quite interpret. “I really, really do.”

W
hen I got
to my house after landing at LAX, Kelly was there waiting on the doorstep.

“You could have texted your flight was delayed,” he grumbled as he pulled himself to his feet.

“If I’d known you were going to be waiting at my door like a creeper... No. I wouldn’t have done it even then.” I cracked a mischievous grin.

“Oh, I’m a creeper? Mr. I’ll-tell-Kelly-nothing-interesting-is-happening-in-London-and-then-check-out-of-my-hotel?”

“See? Creeper,” I said, unlocking the door to let us both inside. “How’d you know I checked out?”

“Colin told Jessica and Jessica texted it to Preston. Preston blabbed it to Maple during his haircut, then Maple told Abby while she was dying Abby’s hair. Abby passed it on to Jason, and Jason told me at the club last night.”

“Fucking Hollywood,” I said, shaking my head and flipping through my mail.

“You love it,” Kelly protested.

“I do not love the way it sticks its nose into my personal business,” I argued. Especially not when Elliot wasn’t out yet.

“Nobody alerted the media, darling. Your secret is relatively safe.”

“It’s not my secret I’m worried about.”

“Ah. So it was Elliot.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Kelly let himself into my kitchen and started rummaging around, pulling out a couple wine glasses and pouring them generously full. “You said enough, Dev. You’re horrible with secrets. Hey, order some Thai, will you? I’m starving.”

I didn’t point out that I had no obligation to feed him, but only because I was actually glad he was there. I didn’t want to be alone right now. There was way too much going on in my head.

Kelly let me order dinner and finish a glass of wine before he came at me again.

“Sooooo, was it hot, at least?”

I laughed, but I felt my cheeks warming. “Yeah. Yeah, it was hot. It was really hot.”

“Details! Top or bottom? Is he hung?”

“He’s... very nicely proportioned,” I hedged, smirking because I knew it would drive Kelly nuts and he was particularly fun to frustrate.

“So he’s hung,” Kelly surmised. “Don’t hold back on me. I’m living vicariously here. I haven’t had a delicious foreign lover in years.”

“He’s not foreign.” I giggled a bit. “He just lives in England.”

“Whatever.” He waved away my argument in the air. “You had a week of hot shagging with a British footballer. Get to the good stuff.”

“Nope. He’s not British either.” I held up a finger.

He cocked his head, “Dev!” he scolded while smiling, humored by my coyness.

It wasn’t unusual for me to share details of my sex life with Kelly. He loved it, and we sometimes compared notes if we happened to sleep with the same people. This was different, though. I didn’t want to share any of Elliot with him. Those memories were mine and mine alone.

Before I could tell Kelly off for being nosy, my phone buzzed. I slipped it out of my pocket to check it.

“Ooh, is it him?” Kelly asked, peering over my shoulder to look at my screen. I flipped the phone over and looked back at Kelly as if to say “butt out” without having to say it, hoping to avoid hurting his feelings.

“It’s nothing,” I said, firing off a quick answer to Elliot.

“Nothing at all,” I said as I quickly hid my phone.

“Nothing, indeed,” Kelly narrated, getting up to refill our glasses.

Lucky for me, the doorbell rang just then, and I had to answer it, leaving Kelly behind as I checked for a response.

I was still puzzling over that when I brought the food back to the kitchen. Miss you? What the hell did that mean? I’d been gone less than a day. How could he possibly miss me?

“Trouble in paradise?” Kelly asked as I frowned at my phone.

“It’s nothing,” I said again, but Kelly snatched my phone from my hand and quickly read the text before giving it back.

“He misses you,” Kelly said, sobering a little. “That’s not nothing, baby.”

“It’s just bullshit, though,” I argued. “It’s just what he thinks he’s supposed to say.” That was clearly what the whole week had been: Elliot doing all the things he thought he was supposed to, trying his hand at being gay without jeopardizing his career. He’d made it perfectly clear at the premier that he didn’t want to risk being out.

“Why do you say that?” Kelly asked, drawing me back to the present.

“He’s not even out, Kell. He’s just playing at being gay.”

“Honey, we all have to play at it before we can be it. Nobody’s born out. Not in this society. And especially not in his line of work.”

“I guess. But he’s not going to come out.”

“You sound awfully sure about that.”

“I am. Did you know there has never been a Premier League footballer who was out of the closet while they were playing? Not once. It’s fucking 2016, and nobody’s done it yet. I’m not gonna ask Elliot to do that for me. Not even if he wanted to.”

Kelly slowly sipped his Thai iced tea. I watched his plastic cup as the milk and tea swirled together. Kelly always said that he drank it the way they served it because if it should be mixed, they’d have mixed them. I think he just liked watching the colors hypnotize him. “What makes you think he doesn’t?”

“He’s still in love with Jemma.” I felt pretty convinced about that. Not completely sure of it. His hands on me told another story. But if it wasn’t true, why was her picture still all over his apartment?

“He told you that?”

“No, but... he still has all their pictures up in his apartment. This thing with us, whatever it was? I was just an experiment for him.” My phone buzzed again.

“Let me ask you a question, Dev,” Kelly said, his face thoughtful.

“Shoot.”

“Did he fuck you the whole week or just the last night?” He asked the question as if that was all I needed to know to crack the code of Elliot’s feelings.

“What? What difference does that make?”

“All the difference in the world, Dev. If he was just testing the waters, he’d have waited until he wouldn’t have the chance again. Straight boys always have to talk themselves into sucking cock. If he fucked you all week? He was thinking about it before you got there.”

“Bullshit,” I said, pushing aside the part of me that said he was making sense.

I looked at my phone after it buzzed.

“Okay, sweetheart. Don’t believe me. That’s fine, and this is the last I’ll say on the matter. If he really is gay, and if he really is serious about you, he’s going to need your support if he’s ever going to see life outside that closet.”

“He’s fine. He’ll figure things out on his own,” I said, frowning into my Pad Thai. “By the end of the month, he’ll be back with Jemma, and they’ll be picking out rings.”

Even though I had almost convinced myself that Elliot felt nothing for me other than experimental lust, I couldn’t bring myself to erase Elliot’s text messages all the same.

By the end of the week, there were even more.

I almost gave in then. I almost sent back something equally ridiculous. It would have been so easy.

It was two days before he sent another.

My phone rang a few minutes later. I stared hard at the picture of Elliot on my screen, grinning in a selfie he’d taken with one of the actors from the show I’d directed.

The ringtone seemed to last forever. When it finally ended, I just kept staring at the phone, waiting until I heard the ping of a voicemail notification.

I waited another five minutes before checking the message.

“Deeeeeeeev!” came Elliot’s voice over the line, drunk but not happy. “Dev. I did something stupid, I think. Don’t know what, but something. Made you mad or something. Now I miss you. A fucking lot. Didn’t think I would, but I do.”

There was silence on the line for long enough that I thought he’d fallen asleep.

Eventually, though, Elliot’s voice came back, softer this time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m... really, really, sorry.”

Another long silence.

“Miss you.”

And then the line finally disconnected.

“Miss you too, El,” I whispered to no one.