Page 14 of A Surprise for the Holidays
“None of our team are giving you shit, are they? Especially not for away games?” AJ sat up straighter, suddenly determined to tear any bigoted men on his team a new one. He deflated as Bailey quickly shook his head.
“Nah, our guys are all cool. I think it helps that most of us are younger. And,” he bit his lip, “well, I won’t ever out anyone, but I don’t think I’m the only guy on our team who likes dick.”
AJ wasn’t surprised. “Experimenting’s a thing when you’re young and full of hormones and adrenaline from a game.” He’d had a few experiences in his early years, but nobody ever spoke about it. The new gleam in Bailey’s eye suggested that the young player wanted to ask but respected him enough not to.
Weirdly, AJwantedhim to ask.
What the actual fuck was that about?
Clearing his throat, he said, “C’mon. Let’s get Ava into her bed and then crash. I’m buggered.”
Chapter 10
Bailey
Bailey sneaked out of AJ’s place around ten the next morning, his mind whirring. He’d slept in the same bed as his coach and, even though it had been purely platonic in intention, it had done nothing to douse the crush he had on the man.
And he did have a crush. It was impossible to deny that now.
He’d officially become the queer guy crushing on a straight man. He was a walking, talking romance trope.
The more time he spent with AJ, the stronger his feelings became. And the fact that AJ had called him when he’d reachedhis breaking point? That made him feel special. Privileged. He shouldn’t abuse that privilege by salivating over the hot Brit.
But, oh God, AJ’s accent was the stuff of wet dreams. And his arse in those skintight workout pants —which were, by any other name, leggings— he insisted on wearing to training was absolute perfection. His body, softening around the middle now that he wasn’t playing soccer every day, was broad in the shoulders and deliciously masculine, covered, as it was, by dark hair that peeked out from the collars of his T-shirts.
And that beard! Fuck, Bailey had jerked off to the thought of that beard rubbing over his jawline, down his waxed chest and lower still.
Sleeping next to August Jacobs had been fucking torture, but Bailey wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
The sheets had smelled of AJ’s cologne, spicy and warm, much like the man himself was when you got past his grumpy façade. The only thing that would have made the whole situation more perfect would have been cuddling up against his crush…but he knew that would never happen.
Besides being straight, AJ was still his coach. There had to be rules about coaches having any kind of romantic or sexual relationships with their players, right? Bailey had never had a reason to wonder if there was, but surely something about the power imbalance suggested that it might be a very bad idea. Not to mention the possibility of favouritism or bad calls during training or a game…
He sighed as he stepped into his own cramped, dated shower in his little beachfront apartment in Miami and closed his eyes.
It wouldn’t ever happen, but he could still fantasise, couldn’t he?
But that was dangerous. Because fantasising about AJ’s lips on his, on how his tongue might taste, on what his fingers might feel like dancing over his skin and teasing at his hole…
Well. That just made him crush harder.
Still, Bailey couldn’t stop himself. After lathering himself up with bodywash that smelled like coconut, he gripped his hard shaft with his slippery, soaped-up hand and let his imagination wander. He thought about kissing his way over AJ’s big, furry chest and down his belly. He thought about dropping to his knees in front of the older man and nuzzling his cock through those leggings he always wore. He thought about inhaling the man’s scent —cologne, clean sweat, and something that was just AJ— before tugging the man’s pants down to get at what Bailey was sure was a perfect cock.
He groaned at just the thought of getting to lick a stripe from the man’s no doubt furry balls to the tip of his dick. Would he be uncut? Most likely.
Bailey fisted himself a little bit tighter and rougher as he imagined tonguing the head of his coach’s cock, teasing his tongue around the folded back foreskin. He’d probably taste musky and salty and perfect.
Would AJ hold himself back, or would he turn rabid and fuck into Bailey’s mouth? Bailey wanted to see him unravel. He wanted AJ to lose control and take his pleasure, tugging at Bailey’s long hair and making his eyes water while he gagged and choked at the rough treatment.
He wanted AJ to moan his name as he came. He wanted—
“Fuck!” he cried out as his orgasm barrelled through him, the fantasy in his head slipping in exchange for white hot pleasure. “Age…A…August…” he panted, resting his heated forehead on the cool tiles in front of him while the water cascading over his body washed away the evidence of his release.
Oh, he wassofucked.
“What the fuck is that?” AJ’s eyes narrowed at the long, narrow cardboard box clearly labelled ‘Fibre-Optic Christmas Tree’ which Bailey carried by the box’s inbuilt plastic handle.
At least he had stopped acting surprised when Bailey turned up on his doorstep.
