pleasure, and as he stroked my hair gently, in the back of my mind it occurred to me there could be a time when that stopped and I’d have to be okay with it.
I pushed the thought aside because that was for some other Jesse to worry about. Not present Jesse, who still had the delightful taste of Sam in his mouth and spunk all over his boxers.
“I have no idea what that video’s going to look like,” Sam said quietly when I emerged from under the table and we began packing our stuff up. “Trying to stay quiet made me all shaky. I’m not even sure I got the money shot, and I know I accidentally got your full face in there at least once.”
“Most of that money shot hit the back of my throat, anyway. The rest can be edited. But I’ll bet it’ll be a hit. The public shit always is. Everyone wants to watch it; few actually want to do it.” I double-checked under the table and on the chairs to make sure we hadn’t left any unwanted DNA surprises for the next table guests, and then we headed outside.
“I’m gonna have to tell Coach I did a big leg day yesterday when he asks me why I’m running like shit. My thighs are toast from the straining. Jesus. Worth it, though.”
“I don’t have work tonight, so when you get home I’ll give you a massage if you want.” I waggled my brows invitingly. “Technically we haven’t tackled straight-boy massage yet.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.”
“Ohhhh, you have? This sounds promising.” I’d only been half-serious. I mean, obviously I would’ve jumped at the chance to play out the massage fantasy for Sam’s OnlyFans page, but I equally liked the idea of splaying him out on my bed and rubbing him until his muscles were Jell-O just because his body probably needed it, and I bet he’d love being pampered. I didn’t care if he had a team trainer; there was no way Pat would put as much dedication and care into it as I would.
“I think we’ve probably recorded enough jerks and blowjobs.” Sam’s gaze lingered on me sidelong, and my stomach swooped before a pit the size of Montana opened up. He was going to tell me he’d met some quota, that we’d banked enough videos and my services were no longer required. A sour taste filled the back of my throat as Sam stopped in front of the stairs to the Life Sciences building and faced me.
His brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay? Shit, you look pale.” He grabbed my shoulders like he was afraid I was about to keel over even though I put a hand up in protest.
“I’m good. I got light-headed for a minute there,” I lied, because who the fuck wanted to admit they’d had an anxiety spike over potentially not being able to film a guy jerking off anymore. My mother would be so proud.
“Here, sit for a second,” Sam insisted, turning me around and guiding me to a nearby bench. “Low blood sugar is nothing to mess around with. If you passed out, you could crack your head on the pavement.”
“Says the guy who regularly takes a beating on the field. What are you looking for?” I asked as he dug through his backpack.
“This.” Sam produced a granola bar with a triumphant flourish and handed it to me. “Eat it. My youngest brother has hypoglycemia, so I got used to always having something tucked away. He knocked his front tooth out once when he passed out in our kitchen, and then my mom almost passed out because of all the blood. Our dog, Teddy, ran through the blood and tracked it through the house and…yeah. Big fiasco.”
“What a charming family story to relive at the holidays,” I said as I nibbled a corner of the bar.
He dropped down onto the bench beside me. “We’ve got many just like that. My sister—not the one with the blood disorder—is a reflexive puker. If she even hears someone gag or cough the wrong way, she hurls. I’m sure you can imagine what that was like when a stomach bug ran through the house.”
I laughed, even though it sounded awful, because he told the story with the kind of brotherly fondness that lit up his face.
“I’m sure you have stories like that, though, too, huh?”
“Some, yeah. I don’t know, every time I think of my family, I just think of chaos