Page 31 of Coming to Grips
“Is he here?” Chase asks, peering around.
Connor shakes his head, looking horrified. “I’m not out to the guys. Drew lives in Austin. He flies to wherever the team is playing every so often and we spend time together.”
“I’m glad it worked out. You know,” Chase cocks his head, “Dakota seemed pretty okay with Kyle and me. If you need someone to have your back and get a read on the rest of your team, he might be a good place to start.”
“You think?” Connor’s gaze searches out Dakota’s form on the dance floor. “I don’t know, man. It’s a risk.”
More so for Connor than for himself, Chase realizes. Everyone knows about Kyle at the ranch. Going public as a couple will invite questions and teasing, maybe, but no outright rejection or harassment.
“It’s your call, of course, but he seems like a good guy. He’s been friends with Kyle since college, and, as far as I know, he’s never had an issue with Kyle being gay.”
“Hmm. Okay.” Connor’s smile is small, but he looks calmer than he had when he first approached Chase. “It’s something to consider. Thanks.”
Dakota and Kyle return just then, Dakota with a pitcher in each hand and Kyle with a trayful of clean glasses and a large bowl of pretzels.
“Hey,” says Kyle, friendly enough, but he sizes Connor up.
“Stop,” says Chase. “This is Connor and he’s got a significant other.”
“Ah, my bad,” Kyle says, expression becoming sheepish. “Nice to meet you then.”
The two exchange a handshake.
“Not to be rude, but you ready?” Kyle asks, draping an arm across Chase’s shoulders. To Connor he says, “We’ve got to head back in the morning.”
“Sure, yeah. Say hello to Marva, would you? And tell her she and Wanda need to come to another game before the season’s over.”
“Will do. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.” With a nod, Connor ducks back into the group.
Taking Chase’s hand yet again, Kyle drags him toward Dakota and they say their goodbyes.
The drive back to the hotel isn’t long, but Kyle’s hand moves from Chase’s hand to his knee and up and down his thigh. The arousal he’d developed while on the dance floor hadn’t disappeared completely during his conversation with Connor, and it comes rushing back now under Kyle’s touch.
They don’t touch on the way from the car and through the lobby, nodding to the sleepy-looking young man behind the desk as they pass. It’s just past one a.m. When the elevators whoosh shut, Kyle’s in Chase’s personal space, bracketing his shoulders with a hand braced on either side. Kyle trails kisses along Chase’s neck, sucking on the flesh above his jugular. Chase gasps at how good that feels. His jeans are suddenly tight and his dick aches to be touched. His fingers itch to touch.
Kyle drags his tongue up along Chase’s neck, around his Adam’s apple, and over the curve of his chin. Kyle nips his bottom lip and soothes the mild sting with a swipe of his tongue before instigating a deep kiss. Lips are the only place they’re touching, and everything in Chase wants to feel the press of Kyle’s body against his own.
Fuck, Chase has never felt like this before. Their heavy breathing echoes off the brushed steel walls of the elevator car. The ding echoes and Kyle pulls back, eyes dark, lips red and slick. Chase’s heart is pounding so hard, he’s surprised the thumps aren’t echoing in the small space.
As soon as the door to their room closes behind him, Chase snags the back of Kyle’s shirt. Kyle turns and Chase crowds him into the wall, pushing off his ball cap and tugging at his shirt.
“Kyle, Kyle…please,” he says. Asking for what, he’s not sure. He’s never done any of this, but he wants to.
Kyle pulls off his shirt. Chase struggles out of his sling and yanks his own shirt off one-handed before pressing against Kyle, cupping his erection through the denim of his cargo shorts. He wants to feel Kyle’s flesh, wants to do for Kyle what Kyle’s done for him—provide some pleasure.
Except they’re not naked and he’s hampered by his non-dominant hand and fumbles with the button of Kyle’s shorts.
“Fuck, Chase, let me—” Kyle tugs the button open and the zip down. He pushes his shorts and boxers down to his knees.
Chase curls a hand around Kyle, velvet over steel, and he swallows hard. His blood thrums, his skin prickles, and he didn’t know. He just didn’t know. He can’t do anything with his right arm or hand, but he can do what’s needed with his left—rub at Kyle’s dick.
Kyle’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he gasps into Chase’s mouth, hips bucking forward into Chase’s touch. Chase plays alone for only a moment before Kyle grapples at the fastenings of Chase’s shorts and shoves his hand into Chase’s waistband.
Kyle straightens up and they stand there, foreheads resting on each other’s shoulders, jerking each other off. It’s all very frantic and desperate and it feels so fucking good.
With a gasp, Chase comes first, his hand flagging as his orgasm shudders through him, making a mess inside of his underwear. He couldn’t care less, honestly. And suddenly Chase wants very badly to see Kyle come as well. He lifts his head, and his fist picks up speed again.
