Football and Ballet - Jason Collins Page 0,20

but where’s the fun in that?” I smiled before I gently pressed his back against the nearest wall.

After that, I brought my lips down to his, softly kissing him, again and again, as I rested my hands on his waist.

Patrick groaned underneath me as he ran his fingers along my shoulders, stopping every so often to squeeze at my skin. “Fuck. I didn’t expect you to be so good at this.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“Compliment.” He nodded. “No offense, but I kind of assumed that anyone hooking up with a famous football player wouldn’t tell him the truth about his skills in bed. So, I figured you probably thought you were a lot better at this than you really were—”

“Okay, yeah, thanks for the compliment.” I laughed and cut him off with another kiss, this time trailing the motion down to the underside of his jaw, down to his neck, down to the bit of his chest that was revealed behind his t-shirt.

Patrick groaned again. “Hunter, stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing you,” I corrected. “I’m admiring you.”

“Funny. They feel the exact same.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Touch me already.”

“Touch you where?”

“Wherever you want.”

“See, you shouldn’t tell a guy like me something like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to touch you everywhere, Patrick,” I murmured, my hands sliding up each side of Patrick’s t-shirt, my fingertips not stopping until they were on Patrick’s nipples.

“Then, touch me everywhere,” Patrick whispered back.

In that same moment, I began rubbing my fingertips over Patrick’s nipples, applying more pressure when I felt the nubs growing harder in response.

“Hunter… Hunter…” Patrick moaned as he pressed his hips against mine. “Fuck. That feels so good.”

Pleased with Patrick’s moaning, I lifted his shirt over his head, the fabric soon falling to the floor. And then, I brought my mouth to one of Patrick’s nipples as I continued to roll the other between my fingertips, now stimulating his chest with my lips and my hand.

“Hunter…” Patrick moaned again, his thrusts against me seeming more desperate and rhythmic. “Hunter… please…”

I shifted my free hand down toward the tent in Patrick’s jeans, gently massaging the outline of his cock through the fabric. I loved feeling how hard he was in my palm, loved the way he seemed to tremble and shake with my every touch.

And just when I thought he was much too close to going right over the edge, I moved my hand away from his jeans.

“Hunter!” Patrick said my name like he was pleading for an explanation, his eyes burning up toward mine. “What are you doing?”

“I thought you wanted to make use of that fancy mattress of yours.” I grinned as I met his gaze. I then nodded over to the bed before I asked, “Shall we?”

Without giving me an answer, Patrick started to head for the mattress.

But I stopped him in his tracks and pulled him back over.

“Hold on. I just want to take care of something first,” I murmured as I pulled Patrick’s jeans to the ground. I then reached for his boxers, quickly bringing them toward the floor.

Fuck.

Patrick was so fucking beautiful.

I took a moment to openly admire his beauty, and as I did, I noticed a blush coming to Patrick’s cheeks, as if he were embarrassed by the intensity of my stare.

“Are you really not used to being admired?” I asked as I softly ran a hand down his reddening cheek. “Do you really have no idea how beautiful you are, Patrick McEntire?”

“I’m used to people looking at me when I’m up on a stage, and they’re several rows away,” Patrick admitted. “I’m not used to someone looking at me so… closely.”

“Well, you deserve to be looked at closely,” I replied. “You’re like a walking work of art.”

“Hunter…” Patrick’s blush seemed to get even deeper.

I gently grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward his bed, not stopping until his back was laid against the dark blue sheets. And as soon as Patrick was settled onto the mattress, I lowered myself further down his body, my lips leaving a trail of kisses running from his chest, all the way down to his lower stomach.

And then, I took Patrick’s cock into my mouth, slowly sliding my lips up and down his weeping shaft.

“Hunter… Hunter…” Patrick moaned my name, his fingers going down to my hair, soon twisting into the strands.

I took his inability to form a complete sentence as an encouragement, my mouth moving even faster against his shaft,