Follow the River

Blinking rapidly, I shake my head in an attempt to make sense of what the fuck is happening, but to no avail. “No, please. Tell me. What exactly is it that I do that gets you this fucking pissed off to the point you would be willing to risk injuring your fucking quarterback in the middle of the fucking season?”

He tosses his hands in the air. “It’s everything you do! Don’t you get it? You walk around on this field more arrogant than God and smacking the asses of your teammates when you’re bisexual.” He spits the last word as if it’s something disgusting, a word that has no business coming from his mouth. “It’s uncomfortable to watch, so I can only imagine how the guys you do it to feel.”

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “No one on this team has ever mentioned ass smacking has made them uncomfortable. In all the years I’ve played ball, in the amount of time I’ve been openly out, not a damn person has mentioned it to me.”

At least, I don’t think.

Ru

Or in this particular circumstance, to Rain.

A scoff leaves his lips as he crosses his arms over his sculpted chest. “Because they’d be so willing to tell you, right?”

Okay, true.

“Come the fuck on, Grady. It’s not a big deal unless you make it out to be one. Plenty of guys slap ass in football. Stop being a damn homophobe about something that literally does not concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me?” he bursts in outrage. “It’s practically sexual harassment, River! You could be kicked off the damn team for shit like that if someone decided to report it.” His words come out with a sharp bite, snapping at me with ferocity. “So it does concern me. I didn’t move across the goddamn country to play for a team with a subpar backup QB. I’m looking to get a damn bowl ring this year, so do us a favor and keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

“You didn’t seem to give two fucks about bowl rings when you were crushing my throwing wrist not more than half an hour ago on the damn field.” Being the sarcastic asshole I am, I smirk and release another taunt. “In fact, I don’t think it has anything to do with bowl rings and everything to do with the fact that it’s not your ass my hands are on. Am I right? Are you jealous?”

It’s comical the way his eyes practically bug out of his skull at my comment, giving me a stupid amount of pleasure in his discomfort. “What? No. No,” he sputters, his eyes flying around the locker room. They land on the floor, the lockers behind me, the bench to his left. Basically anywhere but my face.

What the hell? There’s no fucking way...

But the flush coating his face, the set of his jaw…it all speaks truth to my statement. Which is…shocking to say the least.

I can’t keep the incredulity from my voice. “Wait, are you jealous?”

His amber eyes are on mine in a flash. He’s composed himself quickly enough, but I know what I fucking saw. I know I’m right.

“No, I’m not fucking jealous. I just told you it makes me feel awkward as shit.”

Awkward… okay.

I smirk, having caught him between his lies spewing from his mouth like a waterfall. “It’s just the two of us here, Rain. You can take off the mask.” Stepping into his personal space, I press my palms into the cubby on either side of his head, caging him in. “That’s why you haven’t put your money where your mouth is? Why you haven’t hit me or done anything more than wrap your hand around my throat? You want me all for yourself, yeah baby?”

His eyes search mine and the amount of panic in them makes me smile. I take a deep breath, loving that I can practically smell his fear and anxiety in this moment.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“It’s okay to admit it, you know. Because I don’t mind giving you a piece of the action too.” Rolling my teeth over my bottom lip, I slide a hand down from the locker, gripping his chin in my hand. His breaths come out in short, staggered pants as my gaze moves over his face, resting on his cheekbones, his jaw.

His lips.

The top slightly thi

He must notice what has caught my attention because he grabs my jaw and yanks my head up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “If you kiss me, I swear on my life, I’ll fucking kill you and everyone you’ve ever met.” His growl is missing its usual bite though, and when my fingers graze down his obliques, I swear he fucking trembles under my touch.

“You’re full of death threats today, huh baby?”

“River, I fucking swear—”

“Relax,” I soothe, cutting off his protest. “Who said anything about kissing?” I knock his hand off my face and move in again, rubbing my nose down the length of his jaw. Tightening my hold on his chin, I pull his head to the side to give me access to his neck. My lips brush against the pulse there, a whisper of a touch, and this time he really does shudder.

I grin before nipping at his collarbone as my free hand fingers the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist, slowly creeping towards the knot holding it together. “I’d much rather bite. Lick. Suck and fuck. Leave marks on you that a kiss just doesn’t accomplish.”

And then I drop my knees.

Bringing down the only barrier of decency he had with me.