Long Pass Chronicles 01 - Outing the Quarterback (3 page)

How the fuck would these guys feel if they knew he was admiring the length of their dicks and wondering how they’d feel up his butt?

He pulled off his practice uniform and pads, tossed his jock in the locker, and headed for the showers. Thank God, most of the guys were done. Jamal stepped into a shower stall, and Will took the one next to him. The guy’s deep voice sounded over the running water. “You and Tiffany okay?”

“Pretty much.”

The water kept running. Will sluiced himself. The water hitting his cock felt too good. Maybe he’d have time to get off when he got home. He opened his mouth and let water pour in, then spat. As part of his hetero resolve, he should let Tiffany suck him. She hated it, but when she thought he was losing interest in her, she’d do most anything. Hell, he didn’t feel great about that. This whole shitty relationship was unfair to her, but he needed her prettiest-girl-in-school credentials to show his old man.

He turned off the water, grabbed the towel, and dried off. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out just as Jamal did the same. His gentle-giant best friend really needed two towels to get all the water off his six-foot-seven-inch, two-hundred-ninety-pound body. Jamal made Will’s mere one ninety look petite. Of course, Jamal just might make pro with his skills. Will had no such goals, man. If his father loved football so much, he could scramble his own brains on the fifty yard line. Will never got on the field without being scared he’d hurt his hands permanently. Then he’d have to learn to paint like the guy in that old left foot movie.
Shit
.

Jamal snapped a towel at his ass. “So only pretty much, huh?”

“What?”

“You and Tiffany. Only pretty much okay?”

Will glanced around. A lot of the guys had already left, trying to get a little of the late afternoon sun. He shrugged. “She doesn’t always do it for me, you know?”

Jamal nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

Will looked over at Jamal’s noncommittal face. “You and Steph?”

“We’re okay.” Jamal flashed his white teeth. “Pretty much.”

Will laughed. “Need a ride home?” He grabbed his boxer briefs out of his locker and pulled them on under the towel.

“Yeah. Steph brought me.” Jamal wasn’t modest—he took hold of his jeans and pulled them on over what had to be a nine or ten-inch cock.

The thing always amazed Will. He kept his voice down. “So Steph can really take that monster of yours?”

Jamal shrugged. “Nah. I can only get a few inches in her before she starts complaining. I want to try her ass, but no go. She’s chicken.”

Another guy on the team opened the locker next to Jamal, so Will shut up until they were walking out into the afternoon sunshine. He glanced up at Jamal, who was looking forward with those bright eyes. The big guy always met the world head-on, just like he did on the field.
Okay, sound casual
. “You like to ass-fuck?”

Teeth. “Hell yeah, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. I do.”

“Long, tight, no chance of getting pregnant. What’s not to like?”

“Yeah.”

Jamal flipped on his shades. “It can be messy, though. Some people who like it actually eat a special diet, did you know that? Keeps down the mess and makes it easier on the person who’s receiving.”

Yeah, Will did know that, but only about gay guys. He glanced at Jamal. “Interesting.”

“Hey, Will. Hi, Jamal.”

Will got a shiver up his back. He looked over his shoulder. No need. He knew who he’d find. “Hi, Dennis.”

Dennis Hascomb added up to about half Jamal’s size. It would have been funny seeing the little guy looking up at the huge black center if Dennis wasn’t so creepy. Odd too, because most people just looking would have called him handsome, but something about him made Will’s skin crawl.

“I was thinking you two might want to come on one of my shows. What do you think? We could talk about the new season.”

Do not say no
. “Sure, that would be great.” Jamal looked at him, startled.

Dennis grinned like a shark. “Great. When?”

Will shrugged. “You know we’re down in the OC. We won’t be back up here for practice until next week.”

Dennis nodded, his reddish hair bobbing. “Next week is great. Besides, I hang behind the orange curtain a lot, especially in Laguna. Maybe I’ll see you. Anyway, I’ve got your e-mail.”

“You do?”
Try to smile
.

“Yeah. Somebody gave it to me. I’ll be in touch.”

Dennis walked back toward the locker room, and Will headed toward his car at speed. Jamal started to say something, and Will held up a hand. He popped the doors on the Ferrari with the remote and climbed into the driver’s side. Jamal folded himself into the passenger seat.

When Will had navigated back onto the freeway, Jamal leaned against his door and looked at Will. “So what was all that crap with Hascomb? How come you told him we’d be on his piece-of-shit show?”

Will signaled to get over into the commuter lane. “He may be a turd, but he’s got power.”

“Power?”

“You’ve seen the shit he talks about on that channel. Who’s pregnant? Who’s fucking who? He digs the dirt and a lot of people watch him.”

“Yeah, it’s crap, so why do you want to make him more famous?”

Will glanced at Jamal, pulled out of the commuter lane, passed the antique Corolla on the right, then cut back in front of it. Space. Room to move. “He’s gonna say something about us. We might as well say what’s true instead of letting Hascomb make it up.”

Jamal chuckled. “What you got to worry about, bro? What’s he gonna say? Best SCU quarterback in a decade? Good student? Popular, rich, and gorg?” He laughed. “Big scandal.”

Will laughed, but the butterflies in his stomach were drone missiles.

W
ILL
PULLED
up in front of Jamal’s house in Huntington Beach. “I’m not going to come in. Say hi to the family.” He wanted to get home and get his rocks off. “I’ll see you later.”

Jamal gave him a light punch on the arm. “You bet.”

“Hey, handsome.”

Will looked up at the sultry voice coming from the front porch of Jamal’s house. He leaned over as Jamal climbed out of the car, and smiled at Evangeline Jones, Jamal’s only sister. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She sauntered off the porch and across the lawn. That was one beautiful female. She also had curves everywhere Jamal had muscles. But more than that, she was funny, sassy, and way smart.

She jumped up and smacked her brother on the head. He grabbed her around the neck and took her halfway into a wrestling hold. “Do not be attacking your baby brother, female.”

“Somebody’s gotta beat some sense into you.” She laughed and waved at Will. “How you been, sexy?”

“Lookin’ in the mirror. How about you?”

“The same.”

“How’s school?” Evangeline enjoyed a full-boat scholarship to Cal Poly in advanced mathematics.

She nodded. “Good. Real good. You?”

“Okay.”

“You can’t fool me. You’re both majoring in football.”

Better than business
. He smiled. “Gotta go. See you soon.”

She waved and turned, then called over her shoulder, “Come over for dinner. Mama and Daddy miss you.” He enjoyed the walk-away for a second. That woman had a behind he could only worship
—
if it had just been on a man.

“See you tonight, Jamal.” He drove off smiling. He loved that family. Jamal was his brother by another mother. And Evangeline somehow managed to be friendly and flirtatious without ever making him feel like she had designs on his cock. He loved the rest of the family almost as much. Good people.

It took another half hour to get from Huntington to Newport Beach. He wheeled into the gate and, instead of taking the resident’s lane, he pulled up beside the guardhouse. “Hey, Bob.”

The big, older guy with the gray buzz cut leaned out of the guardhouse. He smiled, but he looked a little wary. “Hi, Mr. Ashford.”

“I’ve got some guests coming around six thirty or seven. Don’t give them the third degree, okay?”

“No problem.” He smiled but the eyes weren’t friendly.

“Thanks.”

Will guided the car around the curved roads, past the gigantic homes, until he pulled into his circular drive. Make that his parents’ circular drive. He hopped out, took the wide staircase two steps at a time, and unlocked the front door.

“That you, William?”

“Hi, Anna. Yeah, it’s me.” He stuck his head in the huge living room where the housekeeper was polishing the walnut furniture. The place smelled like lemon. She looked up and smiled. Way up, since she barely hit five feet. He blew her a kiss. Anna had been a part of his life for a decade, since he was ten.

She waved her polishing cloth at him. “There’s cold chicken in the fridge.”

“Thanks. Going out to dinner.”

“With your girlfriend?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. And Jamal and his girl.”

She nodded. Anna liked Jamal, but she never seemed to warm up to Tiffany.

He slapped the archway that framed the living room entrance. “Tiffany will probably be here in a half hour or so. I’m gonna get cleaned up.” Yeah, inside and out.

“I’ll let her in. Your papa should be home soon.”

“Thanks, Anna.” He’d better get moving.

He raced up the wide staircase and ran down the long hall to his room. Rooms. He had a bedroom, study, and bathroom of his own. Since he’d passed eighteen, they tacitly let him do what he wanted here. He’d had Tiffany overnight and nobody said a thing. In October, when he turned twenty-one, he’d probably get another level of independence, whatever that looked like. His own bar, maybe? He shook his head. They could spare some liquor.

He closed the bedroom door behind him, stripped out of his jeans and T-shirt, and headed for the shower. The bathroom, all marble and chrome, could have accommodated a small family.

He glanced in the mirror. What would it be like to have a scar like that model? He leaned on the counter and stared closely. His only blemish was a mole on his cheekbone that girls called his beauty mark. Boring.

He got the water just right and stepped in. The big shower was surrounded by marble walls that blocked the water from getting on the floor, so it didn’t have a door.

Anybody would envy him. Nice house, all his cooking and laundry done, gorgeous car, tuition paid to an expensive and exclusive college. More clothes than he could wear. Yeah, a fur-lined prison. He wasn’t even allowed to feel trapped, since so many people would kill to be in his shoes. Who the fuck would ever feel sorry for Will Ashford? Still, if he could just get the Milton scholarship, his schooling would be covered. He could get a job to pay living expenses and finally be on his own. Live like he wanted to.
And how is that, little boy Ashford
? Shit, he didn’t even want to dream about it.

He grabbed the gentle soap, slicked up his hands, and started working his cock. He was so damned bored with masturbation. That prostitute’s red lips flashed in his mind. He could have had those sucking him down. He shook himself. Too dangerous. The quarterback of the SCU football team was just one wrong move away from blackmail.

Get serious
. He stroked hand over hand. Felt good even if it was all he had. He leaned his head back against the cool marble wall and let the water hammer on his cockhead as he pulled up on his dick with one hand, then slid up with the other. Good. He started pumping with his left and pulled down on his ball sac with his right. Even better.

Speaking of lips, that model sure had pretty ones. The scar didn’t damage the lips at all. Man, imagine running your tongue over that softness and then flicking up to the scarred skin at the edge of his mouth. What would that be like? Hard? Smooth or puckered?

Will’s hand pumped harder.
Good. Good. Yeah
.

“William?”

Shiiit.

His father’s voice was right outside the shower. Crap, had he been making noise? He cleared his throat and slowed his hand. “Yeah, Dad.”

“Sorry to intrude, I just wanted to hear about football practice. I’ll wait in the bedroom.”

“Sure. Be out in a second.” Did he dare finish? Oh crap. His cock was starting to deflate. He rinsed, turned off the water, grabbed a bath sheet from the rack above, and wrapped himself up. He walked into the bedroom with his dick still at half-mast but with enough terrycloth in front of it to disguise a cock the size of Jamal’s.

His dad sat in one of the two wingback chairs by the fireplace, clinking the ice in his highball glass. He still wore a business suit, which was prime uniform for people in healthcare, even in SoCal where denim ruled the world. He smiled. “How’d it go?”

“Great. Jamal and I worked with coach to come up with a fake pass that got us an extra twenty-five. We’ll have to see if it works in a real game, but it looks promising.”

Will walked into his closet. His dad’s voice followed. “This is your year, Will. Those hands of yours are your future. You’ll take the team to one of the big bowls, the pros will come calling, you’re on your way. A couple years in the NFL and then you come take your place in the company with all the prestige of your athletic career.”