The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

“LET ME GET THIS straight,” Carter said. “You chose to host the whole team at Landry’s house. Not just the offensive line, or even the offense, but the whole freaking team.”

“Yep,” Riley said. “You got it right.”

Carter shook his head and then lifted the six-pack of beer he held in one hand. “Then I guess you’re gonna need this. More than this, I’d guess.”

Riley took the beer and gestured towards the kitchen, just visible through the small hallway leading out of the foyer. “Food’s through there. It’s probably gonna be a tight squeeze, fitting everyone in, but Landry and I both wanted to do this after…well, after Rex.”

Something flickered over Carter’s expression. “Yeah, he’s an asshole,” he said.

Riley wouldn’t have gone that far—misguided, for sure, and self-centered, to put himself above his team, no matter the consequences—but Rex wasn’t a bad guy.

He didn’t think Mr. G would’ve ever been willing to forget what they’d heard in Rex’s hospital room. It had been way too blatant. But maybe he could’ve softened the blow somehow.

“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him,” Carter said, identifying the hesitation in Riley’s reply correctly.

“Not sorry, exactly,” Riley said. “He did this to himself, but well, it sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t feel a shred of sympathy for the guy,” Carter said, his voice going harder than Riley had ever heard before. “He’d have sent any of us to the hospital without batting an eye. And here’s the other thing, some of us get an enormous load of shit even though we didn’t ever really do anything wrong.” Riley heard what he wasn’t saying. Rex was a fuckup, and he didn’t get traded to tour different NFL teams, until nobody really wanted him. “The bullshit he pulled? Totally against the rules. He knew it, and he did it anyway. So yeah, he should pay.”

Carter tended to run his mouth a lot, but Riley didn’t think he’d ever heard him expound so passionately on a serious-ish topic.

“Alright,” Riley said. “I agree.”

Carter looked surprised. “You do?”

“Well yeah. Of course I do.”

“Huh.” Carter plucked one of the beers out of the six-pack Riley was holding. “You know,” he said as he popped the top off. “The house I own, it’s a hell of a lot bigger than this.”

“You own a house? A whole house?”

Carter shot him a look. “Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“And it’s big?”

Carter took a sip of his beer. “Well, yeah.”

Jem and Deacon showed up then, lingering in the doorway as Carter moved inside. “Have you ever seen Carter’s house?” Riley asked. He’d sort of expected Carter to own one of those soulless super-modern penthouse apartments in one of the high rises in downtown Charleston.

An appropriate setting, maybe, for all the hookups Carter was always having.

“Oh yeah,” Deacon said. “It’s like a fucking mausoleum. All white marble. Cold as hell.”

“That’s not true at all,” Carter scoffed incredulously. “You’re making that up.”

Riley glanced from Carter to where Deacon was smiling way too smugly behind him.

“Stop giving the guy fits, Harris,” Jem said, amused. He elbowed his best friend in the side. “Come on, let’s go get some grub. Beck texted me and said he was saving some delicious as fuck ribs.”

“Beck texted you?” Deacon said with mock outrage. “What is he, your protege now?”

“You know he’s yours,” Jem said, smiling impudently.

“Come on,” Carter said, “let’s get out of Riley’s hair and find some food. I better get at least one of those ribs Beck’s saving.”

But Riley knew—though he kept quiet—there’d be plenty of ribs for everyone. He and Landry had ordered a ton of food from the barbeque place, and not only were there pans and pans of ribs, but gallons of slaw, macaroni and cheese, and enough hush puppies they’d probably be drowning in them for the next week.

He stayed by the door for the next twenty minutes, ushering in Coach Oscar, Coach Kelley, and a handful of additional players. He was just about to shut it and go find some food himself when someone he didn’t expect climbed up Landry’s front steps.

He’d passed along the invite to the whole organization, of course, but he’d never imagined that Mr. G himself might show up. Landry was going to practically shit himself when he saw that the owner of the Condors was in his house.

“Hey, Riley,” Mr. G said, and they clasped hands. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Better, at least, than the last time,” Riley said wryly. Because the last time had been in the hospital when they’d found out about Rex.

“That’s true,” Mr. G admitted. “It’s real nice that you and Landry decided to host this.”

“Well, we thought we could all use a bit of a boost. Already a tough game this week, flying to LA to play the Riptide. Harder to do it without one of our starting corners.”

“That’s for sure,” Mr. G agreed.

“Any idea what you’re doing about replacing him?” Riley asked as he shut the door, and he and Mr. G headed down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“Ah, well, Desmond will start, of course. He’s the backup. But after that…still working on a plan, actually,” Mr. G said.

“Well,” Riley said, “I plan on putting us in a position where we can win. No matter what.”

It was a big promise, especially considering they were going into the Riptide game down a player who might’ve actually been able to stop Sam Crawford and Chase Riley from blowing up the scoreboard. Not many teams were as complete as the Riptide—powerhouses on both sides of the ball.

But Riley hadn’t gotten where he was by giving up before he’d even gotten started. Neither had Mr. G, who he’d read had been born to a fairly standard middle-class family and had earned a billion dollars with his software company by the time he was thirty-five.

If either of them had given up when people had told them to or when the cards were stacked against them, they wouldn’t be here today, standing in the foyer of Landry’s townhouse.

“We’ll keep the faith,” Mr. G said. “Now, what’s this I smell? Barbeque?”

“Yep,” Riley said. “It’s just this way.”

“Desmond can’t hack it,” Deacon said bluntly. “He’s gonna give up three touchdowns alone, two hundred yards easy, to Chase Riley.”

“Shhhh,” Landry reminded him. “He’s here somewhere. Probably drowning his pain in ribs and cornbread.”

But Deacon’s stare was not only steely, it was wise beyond his years. “I know Desmond pretty damn well,” he said. “He’s a decent backup. But he’s not a corner capable of covering Chase Riley. He can’t even really cover Carter in practice. Carter runs circles around him regularly.”

“That’s true,” Carter agreed. “And for once, that’s not just my ego talking.”

“Though it sure likes to,” Landry retorted. Were he and Carter ever going to be super friendly? He wouldn’t have ever assumed so, but Riley and Carter were becoming closer, and Landry had a feeling he was going to be forcibly dragged from the I’m merely tolerating Carter Maxwell camp to the I’m spending time with Carter Maxwell out of my own free will camp.

It wasn’t a camp he’d have normally chosen, but if it meant Riley was there…well, he was on board. If he hadn’t been sure before he was in love with Riley Flynn, the fact he was ready and willing to tolerate Carter Maxwell just to be with him…that would’ve convinced him once and for all.

“You know,” Jem said, “I heard Micah Rose is still wantin’ to be traded.”

The gaze of everyone in their small knot of players, currently conversing where normally Landry’s kitchen table sat, swiveled in Beck’s direction.

“I don’t know why everyone keeps looking at me whenever you bring up Micah,” Beck said defensively.

Too defensively, if Landry had to guess.

“Y’all were pretty damn close in college,” Deacon said mildly. “That’s why. Together, you were The Wall. Seems like a natural thought to bring him here. Recreate some old magic.”

“There wasn’t any magic,” Beck said, which they all knew was blatantly untrue. Beck and Micah had both been nominated for a Heisman Trophy their senior year, which was basically unheard of. Even one defensive player making it to the Heisman ceremony was a big deal, and two? It had only happened once before, in 1986.

Of course, neither Beck or Micah had won, but there’d been a lot of talk about them splitting the vote. Maybe, some people said, one of them might’ve taken the trophy if there hadn’t been two of them.

But there had been.

Landry could remember the picture from the ceremony, Micah and Beck, with their arms around each other, huge smiles on their faces. He remembered the quotes, too. About how they were best friends. How they knew they weren’t going to end up playing for the same NFL team, but that, to them, that was the ultimate dream.

And now Beck was claiming there hadn’t been anything special going on.

Well, that was bullshit if Landry had ever heard it.

“That’s too bad,” Deacon said. “Because I just told Grant he should reunite The Wall.”

If he’d expected Beck to react, he didn’t. Because his face went cool and remote, every emotion was hidden behind the mask he’d just slipped on. The same mask he always wore whenever Micah Rose came up.

“If he thinks Micah’s best for this team,” Beck said, “then he should bring him in. I’m going to grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The whole group shook their heads because, as Landry had predicted, the moment Beck was out of earshot, Jem said, “What the fuck was that about?”

Landry decided to make a valiant stand—almost definitely ineffectual, but brave, nonetheless—and go to bat for Beck.

“Maybe,” he said with a casual shrug, “they weren’t really that close. You know how the media likes to create stories out of nothing.”

“No. No way.” Deacon sounded adamant. “That wasn’t just a story. They were real close. I went to the Big Ten Championship their senior year. Stood on the sideline. It wasn’t faked by the media. The two of them were thick as thieves.”

“Not like you haven’t seen good friendships go bad,” Jem pointed out. “We don’t talk to half the guys from last year’s team.”

Deacon scowled. “Those guys were assholes.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Micah Rose turned out to be an asshole,” Carter inserted.

Landry didn’t think so, though. Logan knew Micah because they were on the same team, and though he’d clearly been unimpressed with the guy at first, now it seemed he’d gotten a lot closer to the other Piranhas.

Especially, Landry had noticed, the Piranhas players who identified as queer.

But Landry wasn’t going to say that now, even though he knew Deacon and Jem were both bisexual, and right after the draft, Beck had come out, too.

It wasn’t, Landry knew, his secret to tell.

It was Micah’s, if he ever decided to share it.

“He struggled a bit, you know, like most rookies without a real good system to fall back on,” Deacon said. “Though nobody was real sure why, ‘cause he’s got Sebastian freaking Howard, one of the all-time best corners in the NFL to learn from right there on his team.”

“Maybe Sebastian didn’t love a rookie replacing him,” Jem said. “Maybe he was a jerk about it.”

“Or maybe Micah was an asshole. Hard to say.”

Landry didn’t know if he was the only one who’d caught the weird undercurrent with Beck the moment Micah had come up as a topic of conversation but also had an unrelated opinion. One he felt he should share. “I don’t think,” Landry said cautiously, “that from what I know of Beck, he’d ever be friends with a guy who’s an asshole.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Carter said. “Beck’s a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Jem said with amusement. “Too good to even hook up with you.”

That was, of course, the moment Riley showed up. “Who’s too good to hook up with Carter? Everyone with half a brain?”

Landry had to shove his hands in his pockets; the desire to sling an arm around Riley and tug him close was so strong.

If they’d been at the Pirate’s Booty or in a more private setting, he might’ve just done it. But Coach Kelley and most of the team didn’t know about their relationship still, and he’d put the timeline in Riley’s lap, not his own.

“Beck. Didn’t Landry tell you?” Jem was laughing now. “Carter totally hit on him the first day of camp.”

“He doesn’t look like a football player,” Carter complained. “How was I to know he wasn’t like a coach or something?”

Riley’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Beck doesn’t look like a football player? Seriously?”

“Okay, he kinda does now. Maybe he even did then. What’s wrong with a guy trying to get some action in close to home?” Carter pointedly glanced from Riley to Landry. “It’s not like some people haven’t already discovered how convenient it is.”

“Yeah, but they’re not hooking up in a supply closet,” Deacon said.

“You asked him to hook up with you in a supply closet?” Landry questioned.

“It was handy!” Carter exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Your libido is a terrifying thing,” Jem said, shaking his head.

“Terrifyingly awful,” Carter said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “or terrifyingly magnificent?”

“Just plain terrifying,” Riley said firmly.

“What can I say? Sex helps keep The Beast at bay.” Carter sounded completely unapologetic about that—either that he actually called part of his personality The Beast or that he regularly used sex to quell it.

“You mean, your temper,” Deacon said.

“Yep. Remember my rookie year? Broke four tablets on the sidelines that year. The NFL fined the shit out of me. Had an orgy, was totally fine after that.”

“I think your dick’s so exhausted it can’t get angry,” Riley teased.

Carter tilted his head to the side like he was actually contemplating the legitimacy of the accusation. “You know,” he said, “I’m not sure you’re wrong.”

“Hey, you know, whatever works for you,” Landry said. Surely Carter hooking up with everyone on planet Earth was better than letting his temper rule him again. As long as that coping mechanism kept working and Carter was happy with it, who was he to judge?

“I’d agree, though I’m not sure Beck would,” Jem said, grinning. “He was so scandalized.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “He’s hot, he’s single, and he’s a player in the NFL. He should get used to getting hit on.”

“You ever get used to it?” Deacon asked Jem, who just shook his head. “Nope, me, either.”

“That makes three of us,” Landry agreed.

“Except when it’s Riley doing it,” Carter teased, and the whole group laughed. “Seriously, though, it’s good you guys did this. We…” He hesitated, which was so unlike the normally confident Carter. “We needed it.”

“Yeah,” Deacon said, clapping Landry on the shoulder. “Thanks for opening your house up to this rowdy lot.”

“The house could be a little bigger, but thanks, it’s gone great,” Landry said. Some of the team and coaching staff had left after eating, which had helped it not be quite so crowded, but they’d definitely been at maximum capacity.

“I thought we could use it, even if it was a tight squeeze,” Riley said, and to Landry’s surprise, he put an arm around his waist and tucked himself into his side like he belonged there.

He does belong there.

Landry had a feeling that it was only a matter of time—maybe only a matter of days—before everyone on the team knew, including Coach Kelley.

“Next time,” Carter said, “we’ll hold it at my mausoleum. It’s got plenty of room.”

“Really?” Deacon sounded surprised.

“Yep,” Carter said. “And y’all can live in anticipation of seeing what the Maxwell homestead is really like. Don’t believe what Deacon here says. It’s not cold or ugly, and it definitely doesn’t contain any dead bodies.”

“For that,” Jem said, slapping Carter on the shoulder, “we’re honestly grateful.”

“No dead bodies, but regularly hosts orgies,” Riley teased. “If you ever sell it, you could use that for the sales brochure.”

“Not that many orgies,” Carter argued.

“Landry,” Deacon asked very seriously, “how many orgies have you hosted in your house?”

“Regular orgies or just orgies for two?” Landry asked instead of answering. “Cause I think I’m gonna have to plead the fifth on both.”

Carter scoffed. “You and Riley won’t even give me any details. What’s the point of two of your hottest friends hooking up if they won’t share the play-by-play or take pictures or spontaneous video or anything? You two are way too close-lipped for my sanity.”

Riley laughed. “Sorry, Carter. It really is your loss.”

“It is,” Carter said mournfully.

“Wait a minute,” Deacon said. “Jem and I aren’t your hottest friends? I think I’m hurt.”

“Wounded to the core,” Jem added dramatically.

“Now,” Carter said speculatively, “if I considered Mr. G a friend, you two might have competition.”

“Ouch,” Jem said.

But Deacon, Landry noticed, didn’t say a word. Only pursed his lips, like he was annoyed that Carter had noticed how attractive their owner was.

“He’s rich, too,” Carter observed.

“Probably not as rich as you now that he’s bought an NFL team,” Landry pointed out.

“Good point! I could always offer to lend him some money.”

“And some cock?” Riley snickered. “I know your game, Maxwell.”

“Sadly, you don’t know it nearly well enough,” Carter said.

And even though Landry had no reason to be jealous because there was no way Carter even meant half of what he was saying—never mind that Riley had made it plenty clear who he was interested in, and it wasn’t Carter Maxwell—Landry’s arm tightened around Riley.

“Ooooh,” Carter said, “I know that look. Landry wants to punch me for flirting with his guy.”

“If Landry wanted to do that,” Landry said dryly, “he’d have to punch half the world.”

Riley grinned. “Awwww, you’re both too cute.”

Carter fist-pumped. “I’ll take that!”

“You’re weird,” Jem said, rolling his eyes.

“No argument there,” Carter said cheerfully, like he not only embraced being the odd one, but enjoyed it.

Landry realized then that he wasn’t eventually going to end up liking Carter because he was always around, but he already did.

How had he gotten here?

Happy and relaxed, with a team he gave a shit about, and his guy tucked into his side, smiling up at him like he was the most brilliant person on earth?

Landry really didn’t know, but he wasn’t stupid enough to question it. He was just going to go with it. Embrace it.

Make sure it never changed.

“I’m freaking dead on my feet,” Riley said, collapsing onto a barstool he’d just dragged back into the kitchen from the garage, where they’d stacked almost all the furniture from the lower level of the townhouse.

He gazed over where Landry stood by the sink, stacking rinsed serving dishes for the caterers to pick up tomorrow morning. “How are you still vertical?”

“This needs done,” Landry said stubbornly. “But I was thinking…you wanna take a soak?”

“Oh, in your tub? Yes,” Riley said.

“Well, let me just finish these,” Landry said, “and we’ll go upstairs, forget that we just hosted way too many people in the last few hours.”

“I never thought Carter would leave,” Riley confessed.

“Maybe he thought if he hung around long enough, he’d see me strip you naked,” Landry grumbled.

It was adorable how low-key jealous Landry still was over Carter’s flirting. It shouldn’t have been endearing, except that it was. Must be because they both knew Landry wasn’t actually worried about Riley being attracted to Carter.

“I sure hope so,” Riley said. He slid off the barstool onto his aching feet and walked over to where Landry stood by the sink. Wrapped his arms around Landry’s waist and rested his cheek against the broad planes of Landry’s muscular back.

“You sure hope Carter wanted to see me strip you down?” Landry teased. But there was a rough edge to his voice, like now Landry was thinking of getting Riley naked, and Riley approved.

Because he wanted the same thing.

Both of them, naked, in the big tub in Landry’s bathroom.

“I hope you strip me down,” Riley corrected gently. “But if you’re too tired, I’ll settle for just you cuddling me naked in the tub.”

“If either one of us is naked and wet and in the tub, it’s not going to end there,” Landry said ruefully.

Exactly what Riley had been hoping for.

“Hey, the tub wasn’t my idea,” Riley teased.

Landry flicked the sink faucet off. Turned around, leaned in, and kissed Riley thoroughly. “Maybe it’s not just the naked and wet part,” he admitted, then hesitated. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m crazy about you.”

Riley knew what he wanted to say.

He wanted to say it, too.

“I’m crazy about you, too,” Riley murmured back, lips brushing against Landry’s.

Most of the time, what he felt was simply too monumental to fit into words. Perhaps it was the same for Landry. Someday, maybe someday soon, the actual words wouldn’t be too hard to reach for, for both of them.

How had they ended up feeling this way after such a short time?

Maybe we’ve just been headed here for a long time. From the moment Landry walked into our house all those years ago. From the moment I took my helmet off in Pittsburgh and Landry looked at me like I’d been hoping he would for forever.

“Come on,” Landry said softly. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Landry took his hand, and they made their way up the stairs to Landry’s room and the bathroom.

The first day he’d arrived, he’d snuck a peek into Landry’s room and noticed the tub. Had even thought, it’s big enough for two, even for a guy Landry’s size, but Riley had never dreamed they’d end up here, sharing it.

It had felt too big, too monumental to even dream of back then.

Too much everything he’d ever wanted to put into words if it didn’t end up happening.

But it did happen.

In the bathroom, Landry didn’t turn the overhead light on, but in the shadowed darkness, he reached over and flicked the faucets on to fill the bathtub.

Riley hopped up on the bathroom counter, watching as Landry pulled a few candles out of a cabinet and lit them with a lighter he scrounged from a drawer. “Awww,” he said, “candles and everything. Does anyone else know what a romantic you are?”

Landry shot him a look. Affectionate. Sweet. Full of dirty promises. “No.”

“Not even Carter?” Riley teased. It was too easy to poke him about Carter, and he knew deep down Landry didn’t mind. That was why he kept doing it.

“If Carter was involved, I’m sure I’d have some kind of camera set up to video us,” Landry said dryly.

“Seriously,” Riley agreed. He reached up and pulled his t-shirt off. Watched as even in the dim light of the bathroom, Landry’s gaze grew even warmer, his eyes dilating further. And he definitely did not miss the way Landry’s cock was pressing hard against the front of his shorts.

It seemed unreal that after all this time, after so long wanting it, that was all for him. Riley didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“If you don’t stop doing that, we’re never going to be able to just take a bath,” Landry said seriously, as Riley wiggled and slid off his own shorts. He got exactly the reaction he’d hoped for from Landry, which was another one of those addictingly hot looks shot in his direction.

“I’m sorry?” Riley teased. “I kinda thought we had to get naked to get in the tub.”

“We do, but you’re stripping so…so…” Landry trailed off.

Riley jumped off the counter, sidled up to Landry, and then tucked his fingertips under Landry’s waistband. “So?” he questioned, gazing up at Landry. “So…what exactly?”

“Ugh.” Landry laughed. “You know what you’re doing to me. You always know.”

“Maybe that’s the goal,” Riley admitted. “But it’s nice to know it works.”

“Every damn time.”

“Good.” Riley couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading across his face. Why had he been freaking out about this? It was so freaking good. It felt so freaking good. He wanted to feel this way with Landry forever. “You gonna let me take your clothes off?”

Landry glanced over at the tub, which was only about half full. “Do you ever have to ask?”

Riley didn’t think so and took his time, tugging Landry’s t-shirt slowly over his head, revealing his broad chest and narrow waist and all the incredible muscle in-between. Pulled down his shorts, listening with satisfaction to Landry’s sharp inhale as his palm grazed over his hard cock.

“If you…” Landry huffed out a laugh. “If you do that, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Who says I want you to?” Riley discarded the rest of Landry’s clothes, and then they were both standing there naked. And the tub was still only half full.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it in there after all. Not with the way Landry was eyeing him. Not with the way Riley knew he was eyeing him back.

“Come on,” Landry said, “let’s get in before we get totally sidetracked.”

“Hey, not our fault we look great naked,” Riley said as he followed Landry into the hot water.

He had no intention of staying on his side of the tub, and when Landry settled down, back resting against one of the sides, Riley moved over to him, finally coming to a stop between his legs, feeling his still rock-hard cock against his back as he lay back.

Landry settled a warm, possessive arm around his waist and rested a chin on Riley’s shoulder.

“This is nice,” Landry said after a long moment.

A long moment where Riley nearly said half a dozen times, screw our sore feet; let’s just fuck. He hadn’t even been sure how much he wanted it, that’s how tired he’d been—from both the event they’d hosted tonight as well as the long practices they’d endured this week—but now lust was rising in his blood, Landry’s bare wet skin slick against his own.

“Just nice?” Riley said incredulously. “It’s…well, it’s a lot more than nice.”

“Okay,” Landry conceded. “It’s hot as hell, but I’m trying to ignore that. Trying to be a good boyfriend. Not just a horny one.”

Wasn’t that a fucking trip still?

Landry Banks was his boyfriend—and he was both undeniably good and perfectly, awesomely horny.

“How about this,” Riley said. “Let’s talk about telling people. Maybe that’ll help us keep our hands to ourselves.”

Landry’s fingertips dug into Riley’s chest, and his cock seemed to do the opposite of pretend disinterest, but Landry said, “Sure. Thought you already told Mr. G.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed. “I did. But I thought…I thought we should tell Coach Kelley soon. This week? Maybe after the walk-through on Saturday?”

“Really?”

Riley rolled his eyes. “You’re a very dirty secret, you know, but I don’t want that. Not for us. Not for you.”

“But you said—” Landry started.

Riley knew what he’d said, but well, the more his feelings grew, the more he didn’t want to wait, even if maybe it would be smarter. But also, the more he got to know the Condors, both the coaches and the players, the more he felt like they wouldn’t judge him for his relationship.

“I know,” Riley said. “But…I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go into this game without being honest at least with Coach. The rest of the team? Well, a lot of them already know. I wasn’t thinking a big announcement or anything, just…being together.”

“I’m good with just being,” Landry said. “I’m good with whatever you want. You know that.”

“So you want to tell Coach with me on Saturday?”

“Do I want to?” Landry sounded amused. “I’m still a little worried someone’s gonna kick my ass, but for you, Riley, I’ll be happy to do everything—and anything.”

The most beautiful thing was Riley knew he meant it. Knew he meant every single damn word.

Landry Banks, who was the most fanatically loyal person he knew, the most dedicated, the most determined, was all his. He was all his, in the same way Riley was all Landry’s.

Suddenly, he didn’t give a shit about this bath or the tub or his feet, which were still aching a little.

He turned in Landry’s arms and kissed him. Their mouths slid together, hot and wet, and Riley whimpered in the back of his throat as Landry’s hand slid down his chest, down his stomach, and he palmed his cock. Once then twice.

“Come on,” Riley said, pulling back. It was definitely his turn to say it. “Let’s go to bed.”

Landry didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He just picked Riley up, and they stumbled into the bedroom, still wet, kissing the whole way, and laughing as they fell onto the bed.

Riley was on Landry almost immediately, knowing exactly what he wanted. “Just like this,” he said, leaning down and pressing his mouth against Landry’s. “I wanna ride you, look at you when you’re about to lose it. Except you can’t. You won’t.”

“I won’t?” Landry raised an eyebrow.

Riley ground down on Landry’s hard cock, gasping a little as it rubbed his own. “You won’t, not til I’ve come so hard I can’t speak, I can’t even breathe.”

“Yeah.” Landry’s voice had gone gravelly and deep. So deep Riley could feel it way down in the base of his stomach. “Yeah. I won’t. I want you to feel good. Want you to feel the best.” He was babbling a little now, groaning between each word as Riley kept moving his hips.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Riley admitted and shifted off Landry, reaching for the lube and condoms in the drawer.

“Do you want me…” Landry trailed off as Riley wet his fingers and, without ceremony, started to circle his hole with them. He wanted Landry now. Wanted his big cock deep inside him until he didn’t know where Landry left off and he began. “God, that’s so fucking hot, you doing that.”

“Yeah?” Riley panted a little. Electricity was fizzing under his skin, making him dizzy with how desperate he was for Landry.

Landry’s hands were everywhere, touching Riley’s chest, brushing across his nipples, framing his stomach and his hips, kneading his thighs, and then finally, when Riley felt like he was about to scream from the stimulation, sneaking back behind, where he was prepping himself and sliding a finger in alongside his own.

Riley groaned deep in his throat at the feel of Landry’s fingers brushing right alongside his own.

“Fuck,” Landry growled, “you’re so fucking hot and tight. I just want…”

“Yeah? What do you want?” Riley knew what he wanted. It was brushing against his own hard, leaking cock right now. If he so much as touched himself, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t just explode.

“You. Just you. Only you. Always fucking you.” Landry panted as he tucked his finger deeper into Riley’s ass, and Riley couldn’t help but grind down on it, the feel of him and Landry together.

Riley twisted his fingers inside, probably rushing more than he should through the prep, but he was so worked up, so ready—honestly about to go out of his mind with the way the need had crept up on him so suddenly.

He’d managed the normal level of arousal buzzing under his skin throughout the day—really, throughout the week, when they’d been busy at the practice facility almost every day until late into the evening with barely enough energy to make out a little in bed and give each other a pair of fairly straightforward handjobs.

Of course Riley had wanted more. He’d wanted to fulfill the promise of the last time they’d fucked. Wanted to lay Landry out and make him beg and cry for it, the same way Riley felt like he was so close to doing himself.

But right now, the urge was too strong, and he couldn’t resist it any longer.

He slid his fingers out and moved further down, giving Landry’s cock a quick swipe of his tongue as he tore open the condom packet with trembling hands.

Riley made quick work of the condom and then, bracing his hands on Landry’s chest, began to sink down onto his cock.

He was big, and Riley had rushed through fingering himself, but the further down he got, the more the urge seemed to push him on and on. He’d thought he’d feel less out of control, but with Landry’s gaze burning into him, his hands digging hard into his hips as he sank down, he felt wilder than ever.

“Yeah,” Landry growled when Riley finally settled against his hips. He reached for Riley’s cock, but he batted his hand away. If he touched him now, this would be over way too fast, and Riley wanted to savor it. Wanted to remember the way this felt days from now, weeks from now, probably even years from now.

Instead, he leaned forward and dug his fingertips into Landry’s chest, grinding down onto Landry’s cock with enough force that both of them moaned.

“Feel good?” Landry’s voice was guttural, and even more arousal sparked up Riley’s spine as he continued to ride him.

It was better than good; it was unbelievably fucking amazing in the most overwhelming way possible.

Riley nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he pushed his palms harder into Landry’s chest for more leverage and then thrust faster.

He gasped as Landry set his feet and began to move, too, meeting each movement of Riley’s with one of his own.

Riley couldn’t help it anymore; he threw his head back and wailed at the feel of it, the pervasive pleasure of Landry working deep inside of him.

He hadn’t wanted to touch himself, but he couldn’t help it anymore. Reaching down, he barely grasped his cock in his hand, ecstasy spiking, and Landry groaned as Riley slumped forward, pulsing between them.

Landry’s arms wrapped around him, and he gave one more thrust, and then he was shaking, too, pulsing with his own orgasm.

Riley didn’t move for a long time. Wasn’t sure he could move, honestly.

“Just when I think wow, that’s some really great fucking sex,” Landry mused below him, voice soft and relaxed.

“I know,” Riley agreed, with a happy sigh as punctuation.

“You’re amazing,” Landry said, and Riley felt the honesty of his statement all the way down to his toes.

“I won’t be stupid and say it was just sex,” Riley teased back because it was easier to make light of it than to talk about how deeply, how completely Landry’s affection and loyalty resonated with him.

“Don’t you dare,” Landry said, and then he groaned as Riley rolled off, heading to the bathroom to clean up. To Riley’s surprise, Landry followed him in, disposing of the condom and before Riley could even wet the washcloth in his hands, wrapping his arms around Riley’s shoulders. “That wasn’t just sex.”

It hadn’t been.

There’d been a way Landry was looking at him right before he’d come his brains out, and Riley knew he’d been looking back the exact same way.

“You know it could be like that?” Riley hadn’t. In fact, he’d always assumed people were making shit up about feeling their souls connect or whatever.

But he’d felt it. Not just today. But half a dozen other times, and not only during sex, either.

That was why he was convinced this was love and not just a crush gone completely wild—and why he knew it wasn’t just him feeling this way.

Landry was right there with him, every step of the path they were taking, and it felt good to know he wasn’t alone.

That he’d never be alone again.

“No,” Landry answered, and there was that bare-bones honesty in his gaze. Riley could see it in the mirror as he gazed down at him like Riley was the greatest thing in the whole world, and he couldn’t quite believe he’d been lucky enough to find him. “But I’m hoping we keep feeling it for a long time to come.”

Forever, Riley thought. That’s what he means.