Page 31 of Pitch Prince

“Right.” Callum stood up with the bottle of whisky in hand and put it down on the hotel room’s desk. He looked somewhere between angry and sad, his eyes and mouth pulled downwards in a grimace. “Better go then, don’t want to keep him waiting.”

That rankled me. “Fucking hell, I didn’t have you down as a prude, Callum.”

“I’m not a prude, I…it doesn’t matter, does it.”

“Are you…judging me?” I asked. “Think I’m making my way round the team or something?”

“Well that’s what it looks like to me.” Callum’s words were like a knife in the chest.

I stood up to face Callum, trying my best to look intimidating even as I had to look up to look him in the eye. “Thanks for that, but if you must know Padraig propositioned me. He’s not some straight man who’ll get a blowjob from me and then act like it never happened.”

“Act like it never happened?” asked Callum. “It’s you who fucking…who wanted us to move on. I’d have been with you every night since if you’d just bloody let me.”

“What?” I asked, but Callum seemed not to hear as he continued.

He put his hand on the front of my t-shirt and pulled me in, and for a second I thought he was going to start a fight. “And it’s you who presumed I was straight.”

And suddenly, he was pulling me in close and kissing me. It wasn’t tender, not at first as we both worked through the shock of what was happening and fought for some kind of dominance. Teeth clashed and our tongues explored ravenously. I could feel his stubble already starting to rub harshly against my skin. After what could have been seconds or centuries, we both pulled back and looked at one another.

“I am not straight,” Callum said. “And I’ve wanted you since long before this tour. Why don’t you want me? Is it something I’ve done? Or am I just not your type?”

He had let go of my t-shirt, and I stood up on tip-toes for better access to kiss him gently, and slowly. Into the kiss I tried to pour all the want, my emotional and physical feelings for the man. “I want you,” I confirmed. “I just didn’t want to be some straight guy’s messy experiment, or someone you’d look down on for…providing some kind of service.”

“Let’s…” Callum’s eyes drifted over to the bed, and I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. “…talk. Can we talk?”

I was hard and straining against my tracksuit bottoms, and could thing of nothing worse than talking. But I nodded and led him by the hand over to the bed, where we laid awkwardly for a second. I glanced down and saw that he was having the same problem as me, cock straining for release against the grey fabric of his joggers.

“So,” I said. “Not straight?”

“Nope. Gay. Very gay,” Callum said. “Fuck that feels good to say to someone other than Sarah.”

I tried not to let the mention of his beautiful wife make me feel less-than, especially given what he’d just said. “How long?” I asked.

“This year I admitted it out loud. Inside though? I think I’ve had my doubts for a long while. I told Sarah almost a year ago.”

“Fuck, I…why haven’t you said?”

“Because I thought you didn’t want to know. I thought that…after what had happened, you decided I wasn’t your type. That you didn’t want me. So I didn’t see the point of coming out to you if you were just going to reject me.”

“Fucking hell,” I said quietly. “I could have been having such great sex for the last month.”

Callum chuckled at my lame attempt to make light of the situation. “I’m…sorry, I wasn’t more forthright about the situation. I’ve never been with a man before now, and you’d be right to reject me if you’re not looking for a thirty-three year old virgin. But I want you to know that you’d not just be an experiment.”

“Then whatareyou looking for?” I asked.

One of Callum’s big hands came out to cup my cheek. “If I could promise you the world then I would. But I don’t know. I’m going through a divorce, trying to work out how I want to come out and what I want to do with my life now that rugby is over. I have no idea what I’m going to do next. But I do know, right now, that I want you.”

I closed the distance between us and kissed him again. We’d had enough talking for my liking. This was a time for actions. Tomorrow morning we could confront whatever new reality we might be facing.

Callum’s one hand stayed on my face as we kissed. It felt tender and intimate, and as he stroked down my cheek, my neck, over my t-shirt and to the waistband of my joggers the intimacy of his touch helped to convince me I wasn’t some experiment he was going to drop when we were done.

The hand that had drifted to my waistband toyed with it, dipping slightly in at the front like he wasn’t sure what to do next. I moved one of my hands down to Callum’s joggers and palmed at the hard length straining against the fabric. He moaned into my mouth as my hand worked up a damp spot at the tip of his cock, letting it soak through the thin fabric.

Taking my cue, Callum did the same to me, pushing and grinding with the palm of his hand against the fabric. I pushed up into the touch, unable to stop myself making noises as I did.

“Off,” he said between kisses, pushing at the band of my joggers. I used both hands to pull them off and he did the same with his, and I pulled my t-shirt off too. After one long hungry glance, Callum pulled of his top.

We were naked, and staring at one another. For the first time I felt like I had permission to stare. I loved the look of his body, the covering of ginger hair from neck to toe. The slightly old-school rugby player build where he had that little bit more fat than the lads starting out today. I drank it all in with my eyes. “Is this OK with you?” I asked quietly.

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