Wes headed for the kitchen and reappeared with a plate piled high with pasta. He sat next to Justin and leaned into his shoulder. “Thanks.”
Justin held up a piece of his chicken salad for Wes. “De rien, cowboy.”
“All right, what we watching tonight?” Art grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “Wes, move your big ole head, you’re in the way. You and Justin come sit against the couch.”
The team argued for half an hour about what to watch. When they finally decided on a slapstick comedy, Wes laid his head on Justin’s shoulder and took his hand, dragging it into his own lap. “Je t’aime,” Wes whispered into Justin’s neck, lips grazing Justin’s skin.
He kissed Wes’s hand. “I love you, too, cowboy.”
He had a final in the morning, and Wes and the team had practice, and it was a mad rush in the house bathrooms. He brushed his teeth in the hall and then spat and rinsed while Orlando showered. Blenders were whirring downstairs, and toasters were popping every minute, firing out Pop-Tarts by the boxful. Wes made him his own fruit smoothie and offered him a Pop-Tart. Justin took the smoothie and let Wes keep the Pop-Tart. They kissed on the porch as the team hurried past. “C’mon! We’re gonna be late!” Colton called from the street.
“Go kick ass, cowboy.”
Wes kissed him again and then jogged after his teammates.
Justin finished his last final on Wednesday and then went to the stadium to watch practice. Wes and Colton were conferring on the sideline with Coach Young, who was nodding along with whatever they were saying. After a break, the team ran drills again, and both Wes and the offensive coordinator came in to make adjustments. Later, Wes had his own one-on-one with the offensive coordinator and Coach Young, then made his own adjustments as he ran route after route with Colton throwing him the ball.
The team showered and changed, and Wes and Colton came out from the locker room first. They got into Justin’s car, and then Justin suggested a stop at the grocery store, where they ended up buying so much food they filled the trunk and every available inch inside. Wes and Colton had to get in the car and have Justin pile groceries on top of them. He couldn’t even see out his windows on the drive home.
The three of them cooked burgers for everyone, making smash patties on electric griddles in the kitchen. Each of the guys ate three, some of them four, and Justin understood why they bought bread by the truckload. Justin, Wes, and Colton ate together at the kitchen island, drinking beer and demolishing a bag of chips as Wes and Colton reviewed tape from practice on their phones. Justin sat on Wes’s lap so he could watch, and Wes pointed out what they were looking for on each video so he could follow along.
Later, Wes and Colton ended up in Colton’s bedroom playing Madden, and Justin cheered Wes on. For the first time in the history of ever, Wes beat Colton, and he whooped and hollered and jumped up and down. Colton wallowed in his defeat, and Justin pulled Wes in for a kiss as the rest of the team showed up at Colton’s door to see what the hell was going on.
They made love late at night, when everyone drifted off to bed. Wes lit a candle he’d bought and set it on his desk, and he stripped Justin slowly before laying him on his bed. He took his time, worshipping Justin’s body with his lips and his tongue, kissing the swell of his thigh and the inside of his knee, the curve of his calf and the bottom of his foot. He worked his way back up Justin’s legs and took his cock into his mouth. He blew Justin, sucking every inch as deep as he could, all the way down his throat. Justin smothered his moans in Wes’s pillow, and he had to fight back his shout when Wes moved down to rim him and finger him open.
Wes shuddered when he pushed inside, and he kissed Justin’s leg, resting atop Wes’s shoulder, and then rocked his hips. His cock slid deeper, all the way inside Justin, where only Wes could reach. Justin curled his toes and gripped Wes’s arms.
The candlelight flickered across Wes’s body, the golden glow dipping in and out of the curves of his muscles and the planes of his stomach. Justin’s hands roamed over