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They win the coin toss and choose to kick, so we’ll be receiving the first play of the game. I’m on the sidelines with the rest of the defense, while the offense is on the field. We take a knee after the kickoff and go into a huddle for the first play.

I’m not surprised when it’s a play for Hunter, our running back, who manages eight yards. They go to him again the next play, and he gains another twelve. Unfortunately, we lose two next, but then gain enough to put us in field goal range on our last down. Our kicker runs onto the field, easily getting it between the uprights.

Fuck yes. It’s my turn to go onto the field, and I’m determined as shit to keep them on lockdown. If Des is determined to make two touchdowns during their game today—something that won’t be an easy feat at all—then I can damn sure play my best game too and prove that I really am the Lockdown Mann.

Holcomb, Denver’s wide receiver, is good and fast, but not as fast as me. He’s not as fast as Des either, and damn, I’m dying to play Desmond in the regular season. That shouldn’t be what I’m thinking about right now, though. I do my best to push thoughts of Desmond out of my head and focus on the game.

On their second down, Denver tries to run a play through Holcomb, but I’m on his ass so tight that their QB can’t get the pass off and ends up taking the sack when he can’t find anyone else to throw the ball to.

I’m on Holcomb again, sprinting with him up the field, turning on a dime when he does, and keeping the ball out of his hands. They do get the ball to their tight end, who gains yardage. They end this run with a field goal as well, tying up the game.

Defense for both teams is on point during the second, and we go into halftime with the low-scoring game still all tied up at three.

In the locker room, Coach lets us know what’s expected of us, what he knows we’re capable of doing, and on the first play of the third, Hunter scores a touchdown. We put the clamps on the offense the whole third, making their run game almost nonexistent. With the extra point we got after Hunter’s touchdown, we go into the fourth up ten to three.

The score is still the same when time runs out in the fourth. It wasn’t the most offensively exciting game, but in the presser afterward, they use the words defensive masterclass, so I’m not complaining. We got the W, and my guys killed it out there.

I’m anxious as hell to get to my phone so I can check on the Inferno game, but between interviews and Coach’s speech, it feels like it’s been a hundred years when I get to my cell.

I don’t even have to look up the stats of the game. One text says it all.

Des: That ass is mine.

It is, and even though there’s a part of me that’s nervous, an even bigger part of me can’t wait.

Des is going to fuck me. He’s going to be inside of me. I want that with him.

I want a whole lot more than I should want with Desmond Jackson.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Desmond

The Tuesday after the game, we’re not able to meet up. Oakley has family obligations, and I don’t ever want to come between him and his family. Even though it’s not fair of me, there’s a part of me that wishes I could be there with them, that I could be a part of his time with Tiana. It’s selfish and weird because I have no place with them, but she’s the coolest fucking kid I’ve ever met, and Oakley is, well, Oakley. I don’t know how to explain it other than that.

We’ve made a point to talk every day this week, though, which really just goes in line with how we’ve spent the weeks before. Texting and phone calls have become part of our daily routine. I hate how much I look forward to them, hate the way I quickly reach for my phone every time it buzzes, hoping it’s him.

One new part of our routine this week has been the fact that Oakley’s had some homework from me. If I’m going to fuck him on Tuesday—which I hope I’m going to—I want him to start getting used to having something inside of him. He’s only been using his fingers, but he’s done it nearly every day for me, fingering himself in the shower or in bed at night. I talked him through it the first time, Oakley wearing headphones, the two of us on a video call while I got him to play with his hole for me before pushing his finger inside. Hands down, one of the sexiest moments of my life. I busted a nut just telling him what to do, asking him how it felt, and watching the look on his face when he found his prostate. I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like when I finally have him…the man I’ve wanted since that night on the beach when I was sixteen years old.

Honestly, it feels like the longest fucking week of my life, but when Tuesday finally hits, I feel like a fucking virgin about to get his dick wet for the first time. But even more than that, I’m just eager to have the time with him. To talk to him. To give him shit. To compete over every fucking thing because it makes life more fun.

I roll over and grab my cell phone off the nightstand. I’m not sure exactly what time Oakley is coming over today, or how much time he can give me, but I want as much of it as he can spare.

Me: You up?

Oakley: Yeah.

Me: Same. In more ways than one.

I add a winky face emoji, and Oakley sends back three fire emojis, making me smile.

Me: Don’t worry. You’ll get it later. I normally jerk off in the morning, but I’ll save it all for your ass.

Oakley: That’s hotter than I thought it would be.

Before I can reply, he sends another text.

Oakley: This is all fucking with my head.