Their Ball Boy (It's Complicated Book 1), page 9
But we all said we didn’t want a relationship and that’s still true. I don’t want to be tied down. I have dreams I aspire to achieve. I want to get bought by Barcelona, I want to travel the world, I want to become an international sensation and cement the legacy Papa built.
I can’t do that if I’m committed to anything other than my passion in life.
So, I set the phone back down, and plop back on my bed. I shut my eyes, but Dalton’s slack jaw glazed with pleasure mocks me. The feel of Bryson’s soft hands lingers on my hips.
It’s only dating. I can do that. I can do that because I have to.
Because my goals aside, I don’t think I can resist this temptation.
FOURTEEN
BRYSON
“Wait? You did what?”
I chuckle, aggressively pressing down on the buttons of my controller as a sniper tries to take me out. “You heard me.”
“What I think I heard you say is that you had a hot as hell threesome with two world-famous soccer players, and now you’re about to be in a super sexy relationship with them. Just a normal Sunday, right?”
I laugh again. I had to repeat myself three times to Max for him to understand what I was trying to tell him. I don’t doubt him for being skeptical, though. He knows me, and he knows this is something that could probably never happen to someone like me. Even if he won’t admit it.
Max has been my best friend—my only friend—for the last four years. He’s a junior at LSU, and we met in this college pen-pal program freshman year. He’s my exact opposite. He’s a total bro. I mean, he’s even in a frat. What he sees in me to have continued to do our weekly Sunday COD night is beyond me.
I mean…he plays football. He’s one of those bros.
“I may be in a super sexy physical not-relationship with them,” I clarify as I send my guy up to the roof. “I told you neither of them want an actual relationship. I don’t blame them.”
“Fuck! He got me!” he yells, and I hear the smashing of buttons before he continues. “Wait, what do you mean you don’t blame them?”
I can’t believe he’s going to make me say it. “You’ve seen pictures of me, Max. I’m not…I’m so less compared to them. I’m half convinced they’re going to snap out of whatever is going on and decide they don’t want to do this.”
“Bryson. You’re projecting your intrusive thoughts again. What would Dr. Morales say?”
I sigh. Yes, Max knows all about my therapy to combat my severe anxiety. Like I said, he’s my best friend. “Dr. Morales would tell me I have to love myself the way I am, that I am not my anxiety.”
“Exactly. Come on, Bryson. You can’t beat yourself up. You’re awesome. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“And? I’d totally go gay for you.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re straight, Max.”
Max isn’t just straight. He’s a straight-up womanizer. After years of friendship, I now know exactly what it’s like to sleep with a woman thanks to the excruciating details he goes into about his hookups.
Cringe.
“That just shows how awesome you are. Now, tell me about their dicks.”
“What? No,” I snort. “I’m not telling you anything about that.”
“Oh, come on,” he groans. “I want the juicy details.”
“What do you even know about dicks besides your own?”
“Well, I sucked one the other night, so I’d say just as much as you do.”
My jaw drops. I immediately straighten up, and my controller clatters to the floor. “You…you did what?”
“I sucked a dick. No biggie, bro,” he says casually as if he didn’t just drop a major bomb. “Bryson, we’re getting slaughtered here, come on.”
“Um, huge biggie!” I yell, ignoring the fact that I keep getting killed. I exit the game quickly but stay in the party. “I need details.”
“Oh, so you can’t tell me anything about your two soccer players, but I’m expected to cough it all up?”
“Max! Exit the game!”
“Fine!” He sounds so disappointed we’re not playing, but what the fuck does he expect me to do? “What do you want to know?”
“Um, maybe start from the beginning?” I deadpan, reaching for my milkshake. I need snacks for this shitshow. “How did this happen? Who was it? Who initiated it?”
“It’s this guy named Curtis. The opposite of a bro. The least bro-ish bro you’ve ever met. Anyway, he dared me to suck his dick, and I did.”
“So, you just upended your entire sexuality on a dare?”
“Yes, like I said, no biggie.”
“Max, straight guys don’t just blow other guys on dares,” I say slowly, wondering what part of this he isn’t getting. “How did you meet Curtis?”
He sighs, and I can tell that handsome face of his is contorted in annoyance. “He’s my Econ tutor. One thing led to another and—Bam! —I had a dick in my mouth.”
“Did you like it?” I ask.
He huffs out a little laugh on the other side of the call. “It was a dick in my mouth. What’s not to like? Doesn’t mean anything, though.”
I want to reach across the country and slap him. It means something that he sucked his tutor’s dick, but he seems so calm and nonchalant about the whole thing. I care about him deeply, so I’m not going to be the one to send him on a full spiral about his sexuality.
“Can we talk about you now? Give me something. I’m thirsty.”
I sigh dreamily as I lean back against the couch, chewing on my straw as I recall the details of last night. “Fine. It was…perfect.”
I mean, how could it not be? I can still recall everything that happened to the most minuscule detail. I can still feel their kisses—hesitant and out of control—against my lips. I can feel the slick warmth of my cock from being inside of Juandi Fernandez. I can still see Dalton’s slack jaw as Juandi sucked his dick.
“I just don’t know if it’ll happen again,” I say, frowning as I pick at the throw blanket on the couch. “One of them is a wild card.”
I purposefully leave out their names. Neither of them is out to the public, and even though I know Max would never say anything, it’d be shitty to out them like that.
I have no idea what Dalton is going to say. He seemed to be into it while we were up in Juandi’s bedroom, but in the light of day, he seemed a bit freaked out.
“You want it to happen again, right?”
“Of course, I do,” I say through an exasperated grunt. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I know you know, Bryson. We’ve been best friends for four years. You’re not exactly the casual type.”
I sigh at that. He’s right. I’m a forever kind of guy…even though I’ve never been in an actual relationship. But I’ve read as many romance novels as a young gay guy can. It all seems so beautiful, finding the one. Finding someone who completes you, while having incredibly hot sex. I want that.
But I also want them. Dalton and Juandi. I want that steamy tension we seem to carry. I want that feeling of being treasured, even if it’s only in the bedroom. I want to feel like someone and that’s what I felt last night.
“I can be casual,” I say with a small shrug. “Who knows? Maybe I’m the most casual person on the planet.”
“You send me friend-versary presents every six months. The last one included a flip book you made with custom illustrations. You’re not casual, bro.”
Okay. Maybe he’s right, but I don’t care. I’ll risk it. I’ll risk everything I have to have them again.
I just hope that Dalton wants that as much as I do.
“Sooooo, are we going to play again or…?”
I chuckle and pick up my controller, turning the gaming system back on with a roll of my eyes. “Let’s do this.”
“Fuck yeah! Let’s fucking goooooo!”
Max and I might be complete opposites, but I trust him with anything. Juandi, Dalton, Max—maybe there’s hope for me after all.
FIFTEEN
DALTON
I down the drink in my hand, the scotch burning my throat. I feel a little woozy, a little hazy, and I can blame the three drinks I’ve already had. Nevertheless, I motion to the bartender to get me another.
Maybe this is a problem I can drink away until I have an answer.
I scrub my hands down my face. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time coming to terms with this, the fact that I’m attracted to two men. I’m all for love is love, always been a proud supporter of the LGBTQIA+ community. So, why is this so difficult for me to wrap my head around?
Maybe it’s because I’m a man who’s always relished control in my life. I like to know where I stand, who I am, and be in full charge of what happens to me. But these two men…they throw all of that out the bloody window.
I lied when I told them it was only because they’re men. It’s also because there are two of them. Monogamy is what I’ve always been known for. One sexual partner at a time. One emotional connection. But two? My mind is so mixed up and out of sorts.
It’s not just them that’s making me drink myself into a drunken stupor. I think of them. My mum’s messages remain unread. I know that I need to look at them eventually, but I’ve left that behind.
It makes me a terrible human being, running from the people who count on me.
I just can’t.
I drink again.
A clap on my shoulder makes me turn, and I smile drunkenly as Enzo takes a seat beside me. He and I have been friends for as long as we’ve both played for FC Denver. I called him earlier before I started drinking, needing some company so I didn’t lose my mind.
That was before all the scotch.
“How’s it going?” he asks. He wrinkles his nose and eyes the glass in my hand. “You smell like a bar.”
I roll my eyes gesturing around us. “We’re in a bar.”
“Well, you smelled like you rolled around the floor of one,” he says, motioning for the bartender to give him a scotch.
“How’s Camellia?” I ask, wondering how Enzo can be out and about right now. “I thought this was your day with her?”
“She’s with Sierra on some Mom-Daughter retreat.” He smiles, his face always lighting up when talking about his six-year-old daughter. “So, what was the call for?”
I shrug. “What? I can’t have a drink with my best friend?”
“Not when I haven’t seen you drink like this since Maggie broke up with you.”
I wince. Maggie was…well, fuck it, I thought she was the one. Two years ago, I had made up my mind that she was the woman I was supposed to be with. I never expected she’d break up with me the day before I was planning on asking her to marry me.
I had thought our relationship was perfect, but she disagreed. She said that the ‘it’ factor was never there between us. Our sex life was okay, we enjoyed being in each other’s company, but she felt like we were best friends living together, not an actual couple.
“Are you thinking about her again?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. I haven’t thought about Maggie in months. “Not at all.”
“Okay, I’ll ask again. What’s with the scotch?”
I bite my tongue. I wonder just how much I can tell Enzo. I know he would be supportive of me, but I just don’t know how to approach this situation. But the drinks have given me liquid courage, and I can’t keep this to myself anymore.
“I’m…I…” I suck in a sharp breath as I swirl the ice cube around my glass. “Something happened.”
Enzo raises his brows. “That’s cryptic. Care to share?”
“I slept with a man.” I clear my throat. “Two men.”
This makes his brows shoot straight up to his hairline. He leans back, looking at me like he doesn’t recognize me, but there’s no disgust on his face. I knew there wouldn’t be. Instead, he just looks perplexed. “Wait, what?”
“I mean, I didn’t do the—” I make a crude gesture with my hand to which Enzo snorts. “I was an active participant, though.”
“And this is making you drink?”
“They want it to happen again.”
“And what do you want?”
Well, isn’t that the million-fucking-dollar question? Because I shouldn’t want it to happen again. Juandi is bi and out to the team, but he’s not out to the world. If anybody found out about the three of us, it would be a media catastrophe. It’s a risk to start anything with the two of them, even if it’s just sex.
Not only that, but I’ve never imagined myself with one man, let alone two. It feels like everything I know about myself is changing. It’s like I’ve gotten a swift kick in the balls but—fuck me—it’s pleasant.
“I want it to happen again,” I finally say out loud. “I’m not particularly fond of one of them, but I really do like the other.”
Enzo chuckles. “Well, you don’t have to like them to fuck them. Did you always know you were bi?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “This is all new.”
“Are you afraid of what people will think?” he asks.
“Yes? No? It’s just so new,” I mumble, taking another sip. “What do you think I should do?”
He chews on his bottom lip and flags down the server. He points to his glass and gestures that he wants another one. When the bartender comes back, Enzo turns to me after taking a large gulp. “I think you should do whatever the fuck you want. You’ll obviously want to keep it on the down low.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I snort.
“Do you want anything other than sex from them?”
I purse my lips in thought. It can’t be anything else. Admitting that I want to feel their bodies against mine and kiss their lips again is one thing, but fully giving myself to them…it’s something I can’t consider. It’s too risky and too reckless.
“No, I don’t.”
He shrugs. “Well, I think you have your answer.”
But do I? It’s all too confusing to sort out, and the scotch isn’t exactly helping my train of thought.
I want them. I do. I want to explore whatever this thing is between us. I want to experience them again. I want to see that freshly fucked flush on Juandi’s face, and I want to see Bryson come inside of him. I want that dirty, sensual pleasure of being sucked off by a person getting fucked. I want to do the fucking. Maybe I even want to be the one—
Nope. Too soon.
“Still with me, buddy?” Enzo asks, chuckling but still looking concerned.
“Yeah,” I say. My phone dings again and I eye my empty glass. “Why don’t we get another drink?”
He shakes his head. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Come on, mate. I’m not driving. One more.”
Enzo looks like he wants to argue, but he relents. Good. I don’t really want to be alone with my thoughts right now, and I could use the company. We drink for a bit more and then part ways.
Once I make my way back to my flat, I sit on my bed, fidgeting with the phone in my hand. I debate typing up the message in my head, but I think better of it. I can’t do it. This is all some fucked up alcohol-induced craziness I’m dealing with. I’ll go to sleep, and I’ll realize that the things that I want right now aren’t what I truly crave.
Only, it doesn’t work.
I’m restless all night. As the alcohol leaves my system and my dreams take control, images that I can’t help assault me.
Rough masculine hands touching every inch of me. A warm cock in my mouth. The feel of corded muscles against my back. My head tipped as I moan, begging for more, kissing soft lips as I fall deeper into depravity.
I wake up hard and aching—massively hungover—but not even my blazing headache and dry mouth can fool me. I grab my phone and take a deep breath. It’s time to make the decision. It’s time to own up to what I want. It’s time to take charge.
I’m in.
SIXTEEN
JUANDI
I lace up my cleats with deft fingers, my body trembling with the need to get the fuck on the pitch.
For once, I’m early to practice. I’m never fucking early. Typically, it’ll take me a whole half an hour arguing with the alarm clock before I even reach for my phone to start the day. I raced out of bed this morning when I saw one very special notification.
Because both my men are here.
I smile to myself, a skip in my step as I exit the locker room and am greeted by the pink-flushed face of my ball boy.
Bryson—of course—is fucking adorable. He’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the pitch, handing out balls to the boys, practically swimming in his too-big athletic gear. When he sees me, a ball slips from his fingers, and he curses when it lands on his toe. He looks around like a little squirrel, wondering if anybody saw, and my heart warms.
Mierda, he’s just the fucking sweetest.
“Hola, querido,” I purr, sidling up too close to him as I reach over his back for a ball. “How’s it going?”
His eyes widen as he chews on that pink bottom lip, looking like he didn’t have that beautiful dick up my ass two nights ago. “Swell, I mean…it’s great. Great day for the soccer, right? Like it’s beautiful. It’s approximately seventy-two degrees but when you account for humidity it could be warm. Or I guess warmer. It’s nice.”
I hold back my chuckle. I never want Bryson to think I’m making fun of him—and I’m not—but there’s something just so precious about his rambling, and it makes me want to smack a wet kiss to his lips. I don’t. Obviously. There’s a lot we need to discuss before we get there and, as I look around, I realize that the missing piece isn’t here. “Have you seen Dalton?”
Bryson shakes his head. “No. He’s usually the first one here. Do you think…”
