Page 35 of Pitch Prince

“And now we’re not married, and I’m not the best rugby player in Scotland,” I said.

Sarah held up her empty hand, where the tan lines and gentle warping of the skin betrayed there had recently been a wedding ring. It was weird, seeing it gone. But mine had been gone since we made the announcement.

“The six weeks of you going away helped me,” she said. “Every time you’ve gone before I’ve been waiting at home for you. But this time…I think this time let me be single.”

“Are you saying you…” I asked.

“No, God no. I’m not ready for any of that yet. We’ve been married twelve years, I’m not about to jump into bed with someone else.”

I felt something roiling in my gut, like I was about to be sick all over the lovely sting-ray petting pool that the kids had now run over to. “Fair enough,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice anything different in my expression.

It was nice for us to have had a day out as a family, I thought, as I drove us back the hour from Fife to Edinburgh. The kids would be staying with their mother for the week, and I…I had a guest staying with me.

“You going to be OK all by yourself this week?” asked Sarah.

“I’ve got one of the rugby lads staying over,” I said, half-honestly.

Sarah saw right through my attempt at deception. “Rhys Prince?”

“…yes.” I was conscious that the kids were in the back of the car, and so was Sarah. She blew out a breath, obviously trying to decide what to say.

“Just…be safe, and think of us,” she said.

“I will. I promise,” I replied. I reached over to give her a hug, but she was out of the car before I could. I waved goodbye to the kids as they trooped into our old family home, and I let myself just have a minute to miss it. To miss laying in bed next to my wife.

Before I could look to the future.

***

I looked around the little living space and open plan kitchen, wanting to make sure everything was clean. I was never normally much of a clean freak — having two kids had successfully knocked much pride out of me when it came to cleanliness. But I didn’t want Rhys to thinkIlived like a slob.

I plumped up the cushions on the sofa again, and sprayed a bit of Febreze around the place. I was spiralling, going into panic mode. So I did exactly what Rhys would do, and boiled the kettle for two cups of tea.

A knock came to the door and I wiped my palms on my jeans before opening it. And there he was. Rhys’ hair had been pushed back and he was wearing a hoodie and jeans, trailing a suitcase behind him;.

“Hey you,” he said. He stepped into the flat and closed the door. And for a second neither of us moved. And then we both did at once, and my hands were tangled in his hair and his in mine as I was leaning to kiss him.

Our lips met and for the first time since we met there was complete joy in them. There was very little guilt, there was freedom, and for once it seemed like we were both on the same page. I yanked at the bottom of his hoodie and the t-shirt below and for just a second we were forced to separate so that I could get it over his head.

Every time I saw that body I wanted to touch every part of it. And now, in the privacy of my little apartment, I could.

“Are you done looking?” he asked with a cheeky grin, “because I’m happy for you to just keep touching.”

“Touching, huh?” I asked. I put one hand on his now bare chest and pushed him back towards the door. He hissed as his back touched the cold wooden surface. “How’s this for touching?”

I leaned down to kiss him again, keeping him pushed up against the door as I fumbled clumsily with both hands on his belt. Once that was done I pulled his trousers down just enough to pull out his hardening cock. I moved away from kissing at his mouth to kiss his neck as I played with his erection.

“That’s…good,” he said now that his mouth was free. I smirked against his neck and lowered myself to kiss at his chest, flicked a tongue over his nipples, then let my mouth keep travelling downward over perfect washboard abs. I was about to do something I never had before, but surely I knew what I was doing, right?

I sank to my knees on the cold tile of my hallway, bringing myself eye level with Rhys’ cock. I swiped my tongue tentatively over the leaking head and Rhys’ low groan encouraged me to swipe at it once again. The pre-cum was salty-sweet and not at all what I had expected. For a few moments, I licked and teased at the head, too nervous to go much further.

With my hand in place as a buffer I let myself take his cock slightly deeper into my mouth. One of Rhys’ hands tangled in my hair, gently encouraging me to take him in. Despite my nerves, my own cock was like steel in my trousers and I loosed my grip on him so that I could pull mine out. I sank his cock into my mouth until I gagged, pulling back only for Rhys to gently encourage me back again. Every time I got too far and gagged, I felt my cock jump in my hand. I wasn’t sure if I liked the sensation of gagging on a cock but something subconscious and primal was spurring me on.

“Just like that,” Rhys said as I gagged once more. Keeping my right hand on my cock, I let my left explore, playing with his heavy balls for a minute before travelling backward to toy with the cleft of his arse. Rhys had started to gently thrust into my mouth, the hand holding my head on place so I stroked my cock to the rhythm he was setting.

“Your mouth…feels so good,” he said. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum as he continued to push into my mouth, and the thought of making him feel so good made me feel so good.

I pulled off to run my tongue down his thigh and back up again before looking up at him. “I want to make you cum,” I said.

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