“No. I’m just done waiting to have you.”
* * *
TROY
The second Orlando climbs in the back of the car, our hands are all over each other. The divider is up, giving us privacy, so I pull him onto me. I kiss him as the car speeds up, and Orlando groans and grabs my arm.
“You’re full of surprises,” he tells me.
“You’re going to be a soccer legend one day.”
Orlando kisses me harder. We’re greedy and hungry, going at each other in the back of the car and then in the hotel elevator, horny after our fraught separation.
But when I get him in the hotel room, everything slows down.
I ease Orlando out of his long-sleeved tee, and he nuzzles against my neck. I hear and feel him take a deep inhale, and I pull my shirt off, embracing him again, bare chest to bare chest.
“I really am sorry,” he says, voice quiet but firm.
I wrinkle my brow, surprised by the turn. “For what?”
“Demanding you come out. Storming away instead of talking to you. Not considering what you wanted and who you are because I know you’re a private guy. I know you don’t like that kind of attention.”
“Oh.” His words stir through me. It feels good to be considered, seen for who I am.
“Thank you,” I manage. “I’m trying to make sure I remember what you want, too.” I chuckle. “And hell, to be honest, I fell for one of the biggest stars in soccer. And you’reyou. If I have to deal with some extra media bullshit, so be it. It’s part of my job anyway.”
Orlando nods. “I’ll try to make it easy for you.”
“You think you make it easy?” I joke.
“Okay. I’ll promise to keep it interesting?”
I huff. “More like it.” I reach down and find his bulge, hard in his pants, and give him a firm, slow rub.
“Speaking of interesting,” he says.
My dick throbs, rock hard as his. “Tell me what you want. You just won a goddamn cup, and I intend to send you back to your team tonight good and satisfied.”
He reaches around and grabs my ass, hitching me to him. “I want everything eventually. Every filthy thing.” Heat flushes through me, and Orlando drags his mouth across mine. “But tonight, I want your dick in me.”
I grind my erection against his. “Gladly.”
As I walk Orlando back toward the bed, he looks up to the ceiling, thinking. “What are we going to call each other? Boyfriends?”
I tighten my brow. “I guess,” I say, although I’m not sure it lands right. “Lover,” I try and then make a face. “Ugh. Disgusting. No. I don’t want to be a lover.”
Orlando laughs. He takes me to the bed, careful with my knee as he pulls us to the mattress. “We’ll figure it out.”
I yank his pants down as I rut up against him. “I think I know what I want to call myself, though.”
“Yeah?”
I swallow, grateful at how easy it is to talk about these things now, at least with him. “Queer,” I say. “It can mean that you don’t fit in the boxes very neatly. That feels right to me.”
Orlando lets out a satisfied hum, stroking the back of my head. “My boyfriend is queer,” he says.
Pleasure warms through me. “Yeah. When you say it like that, it sounds pretty good.”
