Page 32 of The Coach

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I pulled him closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a collision of need and fear. All I knew was that I wanted to hold him, to protect him, to make his smile shine so bright until it seemed like he had swallowed the sun.

* * *

As winter break approached, the reality of our separation loomed like a shadow. The team buzzed with excitement, their conversations filled with holidays plans, while I found myself retreating into my thoughts, the weight of what was coming pressing down on me.

“I’m heading back to Connecticut,” Tyler said one night, his voice casual, though his eyes were anything but. We were in my office again, the door locked, the blinds drawn, the world outside forgotten. He sat naked on the couch, his legs tucked under him, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. “Spending the holidays with my brother and our dad.”

I nodded, my chest tightening. “I’ll be in Boston with my family.”

He told me about his home in Stamford, about the snow and the quiet, about his mom’s terrible attempts at baking, and his dad’s penchant for walking nude aroundthe house. I told him about Boston, about the familiar comfort of my parents’ house and the way my dad still insisted on dragging me to the local bar to catch up with old friends. At last, silence fell between us, heavy, the unspoken question hanging in the air: What happens now?

“Keep in touch?” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Sure,” I promised, the words coming easier than I expected. Because the truth was, I couldn’t imagine not hearing his voice, not knowing he was there, even from a distance. “Hey, that reminds me. I, uh… I have something for you. Not exactly a Christmas gift, but it will have to do.”

“What?” he said, his eyes lighting up like a child’s.

I rose from the couch and searched through my gym bag until I scooped up a small pouch. He took it from my hand and opened it. “My silkies,” I said at the same time as he pulled the skimpy nylon shorts out. “I figured you might like having them with you while I’m gone. Since you like stealing my underwear and all.”

He looked up at me, bringing my favorite pair of ranger panties to his face to sniff them. “You haven’t washed them, did you?”

“Take a look inside.”

Tyler pulled the shorts inside out and gasped, seeing the dry precum stains on the silky fabric. His grin was so wide I thought his ears might hurt. He wasbeyond beautiful. “I’ll be thinking about you every time I wear them.”

His goofy, childlike happiness was contagious, and I laughed, unable to stop smiling. Making him happy made me feel alive.

We spent the night before he left together at my house, the world outside forgotten. The snow was falling softly, blanketing the streets in quiet, and the fire in the living room cast a warm glow over everything. We had sex, talked, had more sex, ate dinner, and had sex again. It still wasn’t enough. Tyler was dozing off on top of me after our most recent round, his body sprawled over mine in the opposite direction. We had been sixty-nining, and his face rested in my crotch, right next to my spent cock. His ass was right in front of my face, and I couldn’t resist playing with it even after a long, thorough session of tongue-fucking.

As I pulled his cheeks apart, I started planting soft kisses over his hole, gently teasing it. It didn’t gape anymore like it did when my cock had been pounding it, his anal muscles returning to normal. But the tight pink rosebud I once knew was permanently transformed, stretched into a long slit by our constant fucking. It kind of resembled a pussy now, wet and a little swollen, and it drove me fucking wild. The knowledge I had left a lasting mark on his body was intoxicating. How was I supposed to survive the next four weeks without this?

“You’re going to miss me,” he teased, playing with my balls like a kitten, his voice sleepy but mischievous.

“Is that right?” I said, biting one meaty buttock.

He gave my cock a slow, sloppy kiss. “I knowhe’sgoing to miss me.”

“Cheeky brat.” I slapped his ass, the blow sharp in the quiet of the room. “You’re going straight to Santa’s naughty list.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and easy, and as he wiggled his butt at me everything felt simple. But the simplicity was fleeting, a fragile thing that slipped through my fingers the moment I thought too hard about it. It wasn’t enough, but it was something. And for now, something was all we had.

21. Tyler

Coming home for Christmas always felt like stepping into a time capsule. Same two-story colonial, same slightly uneven driveway that Dad never got around to fixing, same sagging wooden fence marking the boundary between our yard and the neighbor’s. Except now, I could never look at the neighbor’s house the same way after the scene Matt and I walked in on this summer—namely, Danny getting railed by our dad.

Growing up, Danny had practically been a third brother, always over for backyard barbecues or Saturday morning cartoons. A year older than Matt, and two years older than me, the three of us used to be tight. We had kind of drifted apart during high school and had finally lost touch when he went to Princeton. Matt had enrolled at Williams the next year, and I had joined him the followingone. We had only ever seen Danny in passing, when we would happen to come home for holidays at the same time. I wondered if he was here now, a familiar ghost haunting the house next door.

Inside, our home smelled like pine needles and cinnamon. Matt and Dad had already put up the Christmas tree by the time I got back from my run, but they’d saved the decorations for me. It was a tradition, after all.

We unwrapped the same glass ornaments we’d been using for as long as I could remember—each one with its own story. Matt’s favorite, a gaudy gold star from his childhood; the snowman I made in kindergarten, still missing its left arm; and Dad’s contribution, a blue-and-silver wrestling ornament he’d gotten in college, a wink to his brief stint as a heavyweight champion.

“Careful with that one,” Dad said as I hung it on a sturdy branch. “It’s older than you are.”

“Barely,” I teased, grinning at the familiar banter.

There was also a fairy princess, Mom’s favorite, but no one said anything when I pinned it high up on the tree. She called earlier to wish us a merry Christmas, so I felt like she was still with us in spirit, even though she was away, enjoying her honeymoon in the Bahamas.

We spent the rest of the day decorating, stringing lights along the porch railing, and garland across the fireplace mantle. All the other homes in the neighborhood had been adorned a while ago, so we had to makeup for being this late by going overboard, putting ornaments on every available surface. By the time the house glowed with festive warmth, the gray daylight had faded, and Dad declared it was time for our other tradition—Christmas Eve junk food andDie Hard.

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