Page 73 of The Fly-Half

“Do you think he’ll mind?”

“No, of course not,” I said as I kissed his hands again. “Do you want something to eat? Do you think you could manage anything?”

“I don’t know. My face fucking hurts, so I don’t think chewing will make it better.”

“How about a milkshake? And some ice cream—maybe like a McFlurry? And some fries.”

“Are you offering to take me to McDonald’s?” Devon asked, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me. “Please don’t tease me. I need this.”

“I’ll take you to McDonald’s on the way home,” I said. “And then you’re going to come back to mine so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Deal.” He leant forward and kissed me softly. It wasn’t anything more than the barest touch of his lips, but it was the most perfect kiss he’d ever given me. “By the way, how’d we do?”

I grinned as I sat back slightly. “We won.”

“Holy fuck, really?”

“Yeah, by two points. And I didn’t get carded or lose my shit. In fact, I actually scored the first try.”

“That is because you’re fucking awesome and I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” He threw the words out so casually before grabbing my face and trying to kiss me again, a pained sound escaping when he realised he’d gone for something fierce instead of soft.

“I love you too. But maybe don’t do that,” I said, gently kissing him and then letting him go, my hands still gripping his tightly. I couldn’t believe I could say those words. I was going to say them so many times he’d be bloody sick of them. “At least not until the swelling has gone down.”

“Not kissing you feels illegal,” he said. “But I can’t argue because—” He gestured at his face then looked up at Tommy, who was watching us with a mixture of amusement and slight awkwardness, like he was worried he was intruding or something. “Can I go home yet?”

“Should be able to,” Tommy said. “We’ll find a nurse and ask.”

“Good,” Devon said, settling back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “I want to go home with my boyfriend.”

I smiled and kissed his fingers again. Despite the circumstances, it was the happiest I’d ever been in my life.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Devon

Havingan orbital blowout fracture fucking sucked!

I wasn’t allowed to train, I wasn’t allowed to play, I wasn’t allowed to do anything except sit on my butt and twiddle my thumbs. I’d tried to see if I could at least come and do some gym sessions, but Clive and Tommy had sent me packing and Jonny had threatened to tie me to the bed to keep me there. And not in a fun way either.

I didn’t know how I was going to take another week or two of this. Two had been enough to drive me wild and make my skin itch with the need to do something!

The first few days had been okay, but that was mostly because I’d been in pain and happy to do nothing more than sit in bed or haul myself to the sofa while wrapped in blankets, put an ice pack on my eye, take my pills, and watch an endless stream of movies and old TV shows. The swelling had faded before the bruising, which even after two weeks was still giving my skin a sickly green and yellow tint with the odd hint of purplejust to spice things up, and the pain had become more bearable. And then I’d started getting very bored.

I wasn’t used to sitting around and doing nothing, and I hated every second.

I’d watched more TV than ever, played endless hours ofCall of Duty, gotten super into farming and trying to romance four different men inStardew Valley, made, decorated, and eaten at least two dozen gingerbread dinosaurs, and come up with an extensive list of fun sex things I wanted to try with Jonny as soon as he’d fuck me again.

Because despite me insisting I was fine, he’d refused to do more than kiss me gently. It was like he was afraid I’d break if I had even one orgasm, which didn’t make any sense at all because it wasn’t like there was a problem with my dick. I’d been tempted to sneak in a quick wank in the shower, but Jonny kept promising that he’d make my first one post injury absolutely mind-blowing, and I was too intrigued to pass that up.

The only highlight of my convalescence had been at the end of the first week when Jonny, Mason, West, and I had all received call-ups for England for the next Six Nations campaign, with training camp starting at the end of December. It’d been such an amazing moment to realise we’d all be going together, and we’d celebrated with cake and champagne. Although I’d just had some sparkling elderflower because I wasn’t supposed to drink on the anti-inflammatories and painkillers I’d been given. I really hoped my eye would be healed enough for me to take part, even if I did have to miss a couple of days of training.

Jonny and I had stayed awake until the early hours, lying in bed talking about camp and the tournament and other things we wanted to achieve together. We had realised we’d need to tell the England coaching team about our relationship because we knew it wasn’t something we’d be able to keep a secret and it would be best to be honest, but we’d deal with that when we got there.

Like the Knights, we were pretty sure there wouldn’t be anything in the rules about players shagging each other.

“We’re home,” Jonny called, the sound of the door slamming and his and Mason’s voices in the kitchen. The only other good thing that had come from my injury was practically moving in with Jonny, who’d insisted I stay with him as much as possible so he could keep an eye on me. And I had to admit I’d enjoyed all the company.

“In here,” I said from my seat on the sofa where I was once again wrapped in a mountain of blankets because British winter was awful. The one thing making it vaguely bearable was the decorations we’d put up at the weekend, which made it look like a Christmas shop had thrown up all over the sitting room. Ryan had said Christmas was supposed to be tacky, and the rest of us had agreed that doing a theme was too boring and too much work, so now there were lights everywhere and the tree was more tinsel and ornament than anything else.

---