As I lay there catching my breath, Shane laying on top of me, my cock still partially buried inside of him, I feel the best I've felt in a long, long time.

It's almost jarring, to realize I've never been this content before. All the touchdowns, all the MVP awards, all the highlight reels, all the fans screaming my name, they've been getting me by; giving me something I've needed since I was a kid.

But none of it has ever reached these heights.

The sex was amazing. Every muscle in my body got used and abused in the best possible way. But it wasn't just that. Shane was responsive. He took control at times, and let me have it some, too. We were in sync in a way I've never really been with anybody before, and all I can think now is that I don't ever want to move.

Post-orgasm bliss always fades, though, and while it's slower to leave this time, it still bottoms out and turns all of that warmth I'm feeling into a devastating chill as my mind goes over what's just happened like I'm trying to analyze a play.

I'm getting way ahead of myself here.

It was great. Fucking mind-blowing. And there's no way Shane didn't enjoy himself. But I've treated this just like every other hookup so far. I dropped my boy-next-door branding and turned into the guy who goes hard until the last second, half-crazy with lust the whole while. I treated Shane like I would’ve treated a guy from Grindr, just coming over here and jumping him without any preamble.

And now I'm laying here, waiting for him to realize it. As he shifts, my softening cock sliding out of him, I know it's coming. I'm not sure I'm ready to face it head-on, so I get up, pull off the condom, and pad over to what I hope is the bathroom to toss it. Yeah, I'm a coward. But my emotions are going haywire right now, and I can't handle Shane rejecting me, too.

When I come back into the living room, I'm not surprised to see he's fetched his pants from the entryway. He buttons them and looks at me, just as uncertain as I feel.

"So. What happened? Seemed like you were dead set against this earlier."

Everything in me deflates as I let out a breath. Here it comes. The end of whatever might've been building between us. I grab my pants, already preparing to leave.

"I got into a fight with Jake," I answer, yanking on my jeans as we talk.

His expression falls, then his jaw clenches. "So this was… what? You getting back at your brother?"

"What? No. I just…"

I could tell him I just wanted to forget for a while; to be somewhere else, doing something else. It's true, but it's not the whole truth. It's not why Jake's words hurt me so much.

"Jake thinks my life's never really been my own. And… in some ways, he's right," I admit softly. "I love football. I'm good at it. When I'm out there on that field, I feel like I'm something better than myself. But sometimes I wonder what I would've done if my dad hadn't been all-in on getting me into the NFL."

The tension leaves Shane's features, and he looks at me with a softness that makes my chest tighten. Neither of us speak for a few moments, but Shane finally breaks the silence.

"Do you want a sandwich?"

I blink, searching his gaze for any sign he's joking. He looks dead serious. "Uh… sure?"

He gestures for me to follow him as he walks into the kitchen, pulling out a pan, a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, and some sliced cheese. My stomach growls with the knowledge of what's coming, and I realize I'm actually starving.

"I was always one of the smallest kids in my class. Short and scrawny—an easy target. I hated school, and my mom knew it. So every day when I got home, she used to make me a grilled cheese sandwich. It sounds dumb now, but having that to look forward to—not just the sandwich, but the sentiment behind it—made it easier to get through the day."

"It doesn't sound dumb," I say with a smile, taking a seat at a small table. “Does your mom live in Glen Springs?"

He shakes his head as he cuts a generous pat of butter into the pan. "She passed away when I was in college. Cancer."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

He's quiet for a moment as he gets a slice of bread in the pan and layers cheese on it. Then he says, "Jake never talks about your mom much."

"That's because she left," I say, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my tone. "I was twelve. Jake was seventeen. Dad started focusing on my football training to the exclusion of everything else, and I guess she couldn't take it anymore."

Shane frowns, and I can hear the sizzle, smell the bread toasting and the cheese as it melts. "My dad left us when I was eight. Mom never said why."

Neither of us talk for a while. He plates up the sandwich and slides it over to me, starting another for himself. I pull it apart, watching the cheese stretch just the way it should, but wait a few minutes before I start wolfing it down.

"I know sometimes it might not seem like it, but Jake really cares about you, Travis. This whole time he's been stressing over making a good impression and trying to actually have a decent relationship with you."

"He's not the only one," I say, taking a bite of my sandwich.

"I can't speak for Jake, but I know he's always kinda felt like an outsider in your family." My brow furrows at that. "You should talk to him. Tell him what you told me. I think it'd do you both good."

He finishes cooking his own sandwich and joins me at the table. We eat in silence—and I slow down so I'm not just sitting there staring at a crumb-filled plate. Once we're done, Shane tosses the trash and pulls a couple beers out of the fridge.

He looks at me for a moment, taking a pull from his bottle before he speaks. "Can I ask a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"What'd you see in that guy? Jeremy."

My brows lift and I feel… just surprised, actually. That mix of anger and sadness I'd been getting isn't there this time. I'm just confused about Shane's interest.

"He was a doting boyfriend, once upon a time. Sweet. Understanding." I shrug a little. "I guess he was just playing the long game, though he could've gotten a lot more if he'd stuck it out just a little longer. I was planning to ask him to marry me."

Shane's features harden, anger flashing in his eyes. For a second he looks like he's going to stomp out to his truck, track down Jeremy, and beat the shit out of him.

I think I'd be okay with that.

"Just seems like a douchebag to me," he says.

"Yeah. I guess he turned out to be one," I mutter.

Shane shakes his head. "Maybe he was a lot different before, but I don't see how anyone with a soul can be that passive, that fake when his partner is so into fucking him."

My eyes widen slightly. Has he watched the tape? I guess it shouldn't be that surprising. I imagine everyone in the US has watched it by now. But I'm not sure how I feel about Shane in particular watching it.

"You deserve better, Travis," he says, and when my eyes meet his, I'm a little blown away by the conviction in them. "I mean, Jesus… you fuck with everything you have. You need someone who's going to give as good as he gets. Someone who's going to worship you for everything you are."

My whole body flushes, my mouth going suddenly dry. My pulse thunders away in my chest, my heart fluttering in a way I know is more than just a physical response.

"…Someone like you?"

Shane just looks at me for a time, his gaze holding mine. He sets his beer down, comes around the table, and stands before me.

"Yeah. Someone like me."

With one decisive motion, he takes the beer from my hand and sets it aside, then puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me.

His lips are soft and pliant against mine, and though his mouth is open, he doesn't immediately introduce his tongue into the mix. Just lips on lips in a slow, sensual caress that gets my blood pumping south.

When he finally does use his tongue, he sweeps it into my mouth, making me moan softly. It meets mine in what's less a war and more a dance, our mouths melding together as we both explore.

My hands move up to his arms, my fingers tracing the smooth, corded muscle there. His slide down either side of my neck to my shoulders, his touch making me shiver. He continues down, taking my hands in his and drawing back enough so that I can stand.

Before, I was urged on by a strong, blinding desire. But all of my senses are coming alive right now, and while my dick's already starting to strain in my jeans, it's not controlling me for once. I've surrendered to whatever it is Shane wants to show me, following him out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

He pushes me onto the bed and I land with a bounce, my attention riveted to him. He doesn't go for my pants immediately, instead climbing over me and dragging his mouth and tongue along my jaw, down my neck, kissing his way to my chest. He lavishes attention on the flats of my nipples, making me gasp and arch into him, and then continues down, the muscles in my abdomen flinching reflexively when he moves his lips over them in a light, almost reverent touch.

It's only then that he goes for my pants, slowly tugging them down, kissing the skin he uncovers. The garment is slid past my knees and I kick it off, expecting and hoping he'll go toward my newly-hardening cock. But he avoids it completely, feathering kisses over my inner thighs until I'm squirming for his attention.

He gives me the sexiest grin I've ever seen, then slowly lowers his head until his mouth is poised above the head of my cock. He moves over it the same way he moved over my lips earlier, caressing the sensitive flesh, his tongue laving over the slit. By the time he takes me in his mouth, I'm fisting the bedsheets and trying not to thrust upward.

I focus on him as he works me; on the slow way he moves, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be right now. I listen to his moans, completely genuine and stoking a fire deep in my belly. I watch as he pays my cock the most exclusive and thorough attention its ever received, and it takes all of my willpower to keep from coming when he takes me down to the root.

"Shane…" I whimper.

He pulls back, releasing me with a sexy pop as the head of my cock slips past his lips, and climbs over me again to kiss me deeply, the taste of myself on his tongue only making me want more.

"Have you ever bottomed before?" he murmurs against my lips.

I suck in a breath, then respond, "Yes."

Shane's eyes flash with understanding, and I know he's taken that for what it is: An answer, and an invitation. I want to feel him inside of me. I need it.

But he doesn't give me what I want right away. Instead he climbs off the bed and lifts my legs up, giving him access to my hole. He pays it the same attention he gave my cock, first with his fingers, then his tongue. By the time he works into an eager rhythm, his hand stroking over his own cock, I'm close to incomprehensible begging.

"Please," I breathe.

"Please what?" he asks.

"Fuck me. God, I need you to fuck me."

He stands, and I hear him walk into the bathroom. I watch him, trying to stay patient as he slides a condom onto his cock and lubes it up. When he comes closer, his fingers spreading lube into me, I squirm.

He doesn't make me wait too much longer. Motioning for me to scoot back, he climbs over top of me and positions his cock at my entrance, his palms braced at either side of my head. I look up at him, my mouth falling open wordlessly as he presses inside of me.

He slowly fills me, stretches me, all without breaking eye contact, and it's the most pleasurable experience I've ever had in my life. When he moves inside of me, I'm not begging him to fuck me fast and hard. The pace he's set is perfect as he rocks in and out of me. All I want is for him to be closer, and he obliges by dropping down to his elbows, his hands cradling my head.

My arms and legs wrap around him, our lips meet, and we move in unison. He makes love to me in a slow, steady rhythm that builds pleasure gradually.

And when my release comes, it's not sudden and explosive. It washes over me, drawn from me, my whole body wracked by it. My moan is muffled by his mouth on mine, and soon after I can feel his cock jerk and pulse inside of me, my body instinctively clenching around him.

We lay there together, him on top of me, inside of me, and stay just like that for what feels like the sweetest eternity. We kiss lazily. He moves inside of me until he can't anymore. But even when he withdraws, I still don't feel that sudden letdown I expect.

I feel warm. Movingly, indescribably warm.

And in that moment, I know I've gotten myself in deep.