Page 9 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

Drew

I can sense the hesitancy twitching in his muscles, those little jolts of doubt sparking under my hand.

But he doesn’t stray or shout for help. I can feel his pulse quicken a tad; he's not terrified.

He's excited. Waiting patiently for what comes next, like an addict in recovery waiting for the first hit in years.

He whimpers and his legs quiver to my touch. Letting out light sighs of relief as my hands caress his skin, venturing around his protruding mountain.

Austin can act like a prude all he wants, but his body tells me everything I need to know.

The way his lashes flutter, those eyes batting up at me, pleading in silence for what his lips won’t dare confess.

Christ, those eyes.

Brown, so shaded they may as well be a lovely black, carved from the celestial rings of Saturn, dragging me closer to his aura of innocence no matter how hard I pretend to be immune.

But right at the edges—around his pupils—there’s that glorious blaze. A molten halo, alive and restless, a ring begging to be fed. The type of light you can only get by starving a man of what he craves, then dangling it in front of him until he’s desperate to burn the world for it.

I could keep him there forever. Watch that fire flare and fade on my terms.

My beautiful little sun, trapped in my orbit.

Burning himself silly just to be around me.

He licks his pink lips in a fragile manner, swirling his tongue seductively at me. As if he’s secretly cheating on Charlie with the movement of his tongue. Asking for more without saying a word.

Don't worry, little sunshine… I'll give you everything you need to be satisfied and more.

By the time I'm done roughing you up, your flame will be extinguished, replaced by my venom that you'll carry with you like your life bloody depends on it.

Coursing through your veins, replacing the nectar of my foolish brother.

The visitor badge hangs off my shirt. It got me through the door easy enough—a favour from a mate who didn’t bother with questions.

Just handed it over, no clue what I planned to do with it.

If Charlie knew I was here, hands on his boy, coaxing him into stretches he didn’t ask for, he’d bloody combust into a million bitchy screams. The image alone makes my grin stretch wide from edge to edge.

Worth the cost of cashing in the favour a thousand times over.

Nothing sweeter than slipping past the gates, a Trojan horse in broad daylight, breathing the same air while he’s blind to the rot crawling inside his perfect little kingdom.

Focus, Drew.

You’ve got your hands on Austin—Charlie’s precious little darling—right here, right now.

You can sink your teeth in. Show him how much you can please him.

Make him so disgusted with Charlie that he never looks back.

Let him know what a coward Charlie really is…

how he never stood up for you. Feed him the ugly truth.

The lad doesn’t realize what he’s giving up, how much he’s letting me in. Every touch of my thumbs into his firm muscles, every subtle shift of my grip, is a seed planted. One he won’t feel until later, when he’s lying awake, wondering why his body remembers me.

It’s not about the stretch; it’s about starting the war.

This is the first skirmish that’ll start to tear him apart.

Turn relief into dependence. Making my touch the cure he doesn’t know he’s addicted to yet.

Charlie thinks he is off limits, tucked away in a magical keep. Like a princess who can't be soiled.

But no prisoner stays caged once you’ve trained him to open the door himself.

Make him want you more than the golden boy ever could. That’s the game. Get him addicted to my caress. My touch becoming the hit he can’t get enough of.

Then take it away. Leave him restless and agonizing for more. Let him toss and writhe all night long. Realizing what he’s missing, what he really needs. Not Charlie’s golden comfort.

He won't be able to stand the withdrawals.

Me.

Drew bloody Evans. I’m the venom and the antidote. I'll have him on my terms.

It'll break him down until the withdrawal drives him bloody mad. He'll be screaming into the night. Then he’ll come back for the only drug strong enough to soothe his burn.

“Lean into it,” I murmur, adjusting his stance with my strong hands. My palms stay on his hips, firm enough to guide the stretch, but still gentle. “That’s it. Good lad. Hold for a count of ten.”

Austin groans low and huskily, but there’s a neediness threaded through that he can’t disguise.

The sound feeds my hunger. His quads tense under my grip, muscles flexing as hard as steel, and yet his body commits treason against him.

The bulge returns with a vengeance against the fabric of his shorts, swelling despite every ounce of discipline he tries to cling to.

I catch the fear flicker in his eyes as he watches my gaze.

My eyes are fixed on the outline of his prick, blood-throbbed and straining against his shorts.

He knows he’s exposed and vulnerable. Realizes I’ve seen what he can’t hide.

That terror in his pupils mixing with arousal—it’s fucking intoxicating.

“It’s alright mate, I won’t tell—”

Austin cuts me off, his voice stumbling over itself. “It’s just… some late morning wood. I’m not— I’m not fucking attracted to you,” he stammers, shifting awkwardly on the floormat, desperate to rearrange himself out of my sight.

I let the corner of my mouth curl, my pulse remaining steady. “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” I murmur, my grin widening as his ears flush red. “Your secret’s safe with me sunshine.”

His cheeks flush red, torn open by the tug-of-war between fear and want.

He hasn’t admitted the truth to himself yet.

His body’s already screaming the truth. And really—who could blame him?

I’m the sexier twin. The one who knows exactly how to use his hands, and every other part of his body, in ways my golden half never could.

Charlie gives comfort. I give fire. And sooner or later, Austin’s going to learn which one he really craves.

“It’s okay, mate. Let’s keep stretching you out.

” My tone stays light, like I’m taking the piss, but I savour the way his mouth wobbles at the edges.

He’s rattled, caught between fighting me off and leaning in closer.

I love taunting him. Watching his lips quiver, the protest dying on his tongue before he can form it.

Every second he hesitates, every beat he doesn’t shove me away, is another point on the board for me.

I ease him down softly on the mat, my palms working over the knots in his shoulders. He lets out a sharp little gasp, cock still hard in his shorts. It’d be bloody perfect if Charlie could see this. Witness how flushed and rigid his precious love boy is for me.

“I bet you’re thinking about how my lips feel,” I murmur, bending closer, my breath brushing his ear. “Once you’ve tasted mine, you’ll never feel the same satisfaction from Charlie again.”

“I—I love Charlie.” He fires back, voice surprisingly sharp, as if saying it out loud might make it believable.

Not fooling me, princess…

A cruel grin overtakes my face. “Oh yeah? Love him so much that you are rock-hard for me? ”

His lips part, voice trembling, but to no avail. Just a flicker of panic occupying his eyes. His cheeks burning bright from flush. The silence tells me everything that I need to know.

“It’s okay, Lover Boy,” I murmur, savouring the way the nickname makes him flinch, halfway between curiosity and disgust, “That’s my new name for you. You understand?”

Austin swallows hard, nodding his head. His pupils entangled with fear and shame.

“Good lad,” I grin, leaning in close enough that he can’t escape the weight of my breath, hovering over him like a ton of steel. His body’s pinned by nothing but my presence. “As long as you answer when I ring, I won’t breathe a bloody word to my brother about this. Deal, mate?”

“Yes…” he mutters, eyes pleading for more of my touch. The flicker booming, as I remove my hands from him. He's bloody starving from my absence already.

Tragic and desperate. Just how I like 'em.

Charlie thinks he’s the only one who can have this boy. He’s wrong. I’m not here to force Austin to do anything. That’d be too easy. I want his mind, body, and soul to be convinced that there’s only one inevitable answer.

Drew Evans.

The God. The Legend. The league's best motherfucking goalie.

“Good session,” I say with a grin, pushing myself up from the mat as if nothing at all had transpired. “See you about town, mate.”

His mouth hovers open in shock. “Are you just going to leave me like this? Rock hard?”

I chuckle, biting my lower lip as I flex my biceps, letting him drink it in the perfect image of me. “Don’t worry, Lover Boy. You’ll get your relief when you’ve earned it.” I wink, stepping back toward the door. “Keep your phone close. I’ll be ringing soon.”

I leave him there, sprawled on the mat with his cock dripping through his shorts like a leaking garden hose.

His eyes are ravenous, hungry enough I almost expect him to spring up, shove me against the wall, and finally bend over to receive what he hankers for.

I wouldn’t stop him. Christ, I’d welcome it.

But he needs to show some initiative if he wants my dick.

I’ll keep putting him through the wringer until he cracks—until the need festers his insides.

My prick is a fricking miracle. My cream is a blessing. I need to see him more broken before I can fix him.

Soon enough though, he’ll be bursting, core so full of lust for me, that he’ll be drowning in it. Suffocating for my relief.

Charlie’s going to be bloody mental when he realises he can’t keep his white dove locked up forever. The door is barely on the hinges anymore.

Not my fault I’ve got game. I’m a bloody goalie for Christ’s sakes, not a wimpy kicker who’s too afraid to take a hit.

Oi, Ref, they knocked me over. Flag! Flag!

Bloody pansy.

I’ll let him posture, let him strut around thinking Austin’s safe in his arms. We’ll see how long that lasts. Sooner or later, the lad will slip, and when he does, he won’t be playing house with Charlie anymore. He’ll be playing it with me.

My Lover Boy.

Cooking me pancakes in nothing but his jock, arse bouncing against me as I fuck him slow at the stove, his hands trembling as he tries not to burn breakfast. Whining when I thrust too deep, but never daring to stop flipping those cakes until I say so.

Then I’ll drag him off the counter, bend him over the table, syrup still warm and sticky in the jar, and make him spread it across my cock with that pretty mouth before I stuff him full again. He’ll whimper, swear he still loves Charlie, but the way he swallows my cock will tell a different story.

I’ll have him clean my kit while kneeling between my legs, licking me down under God’s command. Get him on all fours in my flat, Charlie’s, in the bloody locker room—anywhere I choose. And he’ll take it, every bit of my prick whenever I want, because by then his body will know no other master.

Charlie will see it in his eyes soon. A dazed and starving look Lover Boy gets once I’ve wrung him out. He’ll realise he’s lost. That the only place Austin belongs is under me. Forever mine.

I’ll brand him with my ink. Sear my name into his skin permanently, while he begs me to.

Not while under duress, but through his addiction to me.

The urge to please me. The needle buzzing, carving me into him forever.

He’ll whimper through the sting, cock hard the entire time, resisting the urge to shoot his load.

It's only a matter of time until you are mine Lover Boy.