Page 22 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

Elliot

Two years later

“THAT WAS A GREAT PARTY, but I needed this peace and quiet.” Eyes on the road for our short drive home, my ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. I can’t believe they haven’t stopped buzzing from the numerous guests’ guffaws and conversations. From the shrieking of the kids. From the sheer number of former and present Troopers and the rowdy atmosphere we mustered.

“Coop and Lucas really know how to throw a party, huh?”

“Yup. Their Super Bowl Sunday party is as sacred for The Troopers as Hardy’s Christmas getaway is for the Barrels.”

“I’m bummed that I missed it last year.” My fingers intertwine with his that are resting on his thigh. “I’m not even such a football fan,” he deadpans, his focus on the road to avoid my murderous glare.

I slap his forearm for good measure, mumbling, “Ass,” because I can recognize a lie when I hear one.

“What? You love my ass!” he brags as I stop at a red light, then glance at my boyfriend.

“I most definitely adore your ass and can’t wait to claim it. But banging you in the back of this clown car won’t do. There’s not enough room. Maybe I can take you on the hood of your beloved car once we’re back in the privacy of our garage… Mmm… Decisions, decisions…”

His boisterous mirth fills the car. “And then what? You’re gonna tie me to the rearview mirrors, too?”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I allow him—not so subtly—to redirect the conversation to aforementioned sport, the game, and the party.

Our Super Bowl Sunday party hosts are amazing, talented, and fun. Cooper “Coop” Howard—one of the cornerbacks—and his man, Lucas Ortiz—our former back spot from the cheerleading squad—are one of the nicest couples there is. Granted, Coop’s mood sunk throughout the Super Bowl. Much to his despair, Dallas won by the skin of their teeth against Jacksonville in the last quarter; a victory followed by deafening shouts, the pinnacle of this larger-than-life party. Full of friends. Full of adrenaline. Full of football.

Ever since I recovered from my ankle injury, the extended Troopers team—players, cheerleading squad, management, and staff—has been particularly attentive in making me feel welcome. Hence, I became close to people I barely knew before, including Lucas and Marisol. She’s my favorite flyer on the cheer squad and also thick as thieves with Lucas, on and off the field. Earlier today, she mentioned that she’ll stay for a couple more years, but Lucas quit a while back and now volunteers at Queering Sports, a youth charity backed by the Troopers.

Marisol Uriegas was a vital component cementing our diverse and colorful team. And here I thought the petite Latina woman was shy because she silently appraised me when Gunner introduced me to her. As we got to know each other better, she declared I was the sweetest Trooper. I bet her words aren’t reserved for me, but you know me, I’ll take all the attention I can get! Either way, I adore her and was grateful to have her by my side when heinous people lashed out after Rupert and I went public.

When we got to Lucas and Coop’s, I couldn’t contain my frustration from failing to make it to the Super Bowl yet again, despite our impeccable performance this year. As happy as I was for today’s reunion, it felt utterly disheartening, and I’m a sore loser. These are my people, just like Rupert has his own crew. Mixing them isn’t easy, but we sometimes do. Finding time together and making time for ourselves as a couple is our greatest challenge so far, especially since we’re splitting our precious time between the team, Rupert’s music clan, Chris and his lovely girlfriend, and our families, obviously.

Damn, I love my team.

Their spirit always does wonders to brighten my mood. The other reason I wasn’t quite my happy, cocky, and confident self when we got there was because of Gunner, my former mentor and favorite player. A couple of weeks ago, the traitor confided that he’d be officially announcing his retirement to our teammates today; Caitlin Cole will draft a press release next week. It made it all the more real, no matter how thrilled everyone was when he mentioned his increased support of LGBTQAI+ causes that are dear to The Troopers’ heart, such as Queering Sports. Gunner convinced me to donate my time as well, as if my schedule wasn’t jam-packed already.

Nothing’s gonna be the same without Gunner… The times they are a-changin’.

“What time’s your flight again tomorrow?” I inquire, tssking at the honking behind me since I didn’t notice the light turned green. I put both hands on the wheel, pick up the pace, eager to arrive home.

The joyous mayhem of the party was such a jarring contrast to my quiet life with Rupert, especially now that we bought a house on the outskirts of Austin. I’ve always lived in a house, and it was a natural next step to ensure we have a peaceful place to regroup, hang out with our friends, and keep out of the public eye—mostly.

If the revelation initially came as a shock, Rupert and I are now old news. It was a relief to see that life quickly returned to business as usual, apart from some odd feedback. Apparently, we were an unlikely pairing, but nobody dared to specify the reasons. Our age difference? Our supposed resemblance? Our overall discreet life? Must be why there’s always paparazzi hunting us to steal a picture and make up a story about how there’s trouble in paradise. Lies; it’s been over seven years since our first kiss—the one I stole from him—and five since he eventually came to his sense, and we’re still living on cloud nine.

“Fivish, I think. Let me check.” Rupert snatches his phone from the center console. “I feel like airports are my new home lately. I live out of my suitcase. It sucks.” He provides the flight information, and I mouth a thank you.

“I know the feeling. Traveling is exhausting, but first class eases the hassle, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does. It remains stressful, though. For some reason, I always sleep poorly the night before a trip. Thankfully, the next one will be our well-deserved European vacation.” Visiting his mom, then heading to my parents’ estate where we’ll see Tim and Claire and attend their newborn’s baptism. Yes, I’m an uncle, and Rupert’s a godfather!

I slightly lean his way, take his hand in mine, and bring it to my lips as I round the corner of our street.

Sighing like a love-sick puppy, I kiss his knuckles. I love to think that I’m the one running the show, and everyone seems to believe that’s how we roll, but Rupert and I both know that’s utter bullshit. He’s had me wrapped around his finger since day one.

Clicking on the garage door opener, I wait, then park the car. “Are you ready for the Grammys after your trip to Canada, babe?”

Fist over his mouth, he clears his throat and fidgets in the passenger seat before exiting the car without answering me. I’m well-aware that the upcoming ceremony’s putting extra pressure on his shoulders since both The Whiskey Barrels and his first solo album are nominated this year. My heart fills with pride while an endearing blush takes residence on his freckled face. Could my man be any hotter?

Starved for his touch, I possessively slide my hand in his as soon as we step into the comfort and quiet of our home and ditch our coats. As if on cue, his thumb strokes my skin, eliciting a shiver that runs from my head to my toes, paired with dirty thoughts about what I want to do to him, and him to me, as soon as we make it to the bedroom.

Strike that, the need becomes too strong. “I didn’t get dessert,” I start. “I want it now.” My authoritative tone makes him chuckle. He’s so disarmingly clueless at times.

With my single-mindedness back, I lead him through the open-plan kitchen to the massive glass windows that usher in the glow of the moon and stars.

On a mission, Rupert opens the mostly empty fridge and offers a few options to satiate my sweet tooth.

What I’m after isn’t in the fridge, but is standing in front of it… or rather is confined in black boxer briefs. I don’t waste any time and snatch his wrist to make him face me, then slam the door shut with my free hand. In the blink of an eye, my knees hit the cold tiles. My mouth waters as my hard-on grows in anticipation. It’s been too many hours since I’ve had my mouth on him.

“What are you doing?” my boyfriend inquires when my hands fumble with his zipper and manage to drop his jeans to his ankles. They are joined by his boxer briefs.

There…

My pulse trips on itself at the enticing display. “What does it look like I’m doing?” With a hooded gaze, I glance from his beautiful dick up to his darkening green eyes. I lick my lips. He watches me.

His proud erection twitches, begging for attention. Hands clutching his toned ass cheeks, I lean in, my tongue circling the head. He growls, and my heart hammers inside my chest. Without further ado, I take more of him.

Rupert strokes the top of my hair. Soon after, his hips buck without restraint as he finds his rhythm, His fingers fist my overgrown strawberry-blond hair, tightening around it. He hits the back of my throat. A loud moan escapes from my lips. The erotic noises he makes drive me crazy, but I want more, so I give him more. Taunting. Teasing. Tormenting. “Fuck… Elliot, you’re kill—" His breath catches. “Oh, fuck… Yeah, right there.”

Then, my fingers, tongue, and mouth are everywhere. Fondling his tightening balls. Jacking his engorged length. Taunting his responsive crack. I engulf him at once, enjoying the taste of him as he quivers under my ministrations. Without a word, I move in ways that encourage him to fuck my mouth, ignoring my watering eyes. His grip on my hair sets a faster tempo.

His breathing turns ragged, but our eyes continue carrying on a silent conversation that’s anything but tame. Yearning. My index finger breaches him. Craving. My tongue twirls around him. Needing.

I feel his knees buckling when my crooked finger rubs his prostate. He’s so close already. I put the pedal to the metal and watch his cheeks redden as my cheeks hollow; the pleasure I give him is the best aphrodisiac.

“Holy shit, babe… I’m… Oh, my God, yes…” He doesn’t have time to warn me, but we’re way past that anyway. He spills into my swollen mouth, and I welcome every drop. My favorite dessert. My favorite man. My favorite, period.

My mouth releases him with a pop, cleaning the remnants of his pleasure with my tongue. His ass sets me free, and I get back on my feet. Snaking his arm around my neck for balance, he kisses me senseless, then comes up for air. “Damn, you’re gifted.”

“I learned from the best,” I tease.

“Indeed.” His hand presses against my aching boner, but I manage to escape. This isn’t about me. “I taught you well, but you’ve always been a fast learner, my sweet Elliot.” His face morphs into an even more blissed-out expression. The back of his fingers lazily grazes my waist. I fidget under his touch. “Can’t wait to have my way with you as soon as we hit the sack.”

This cockier, bolder side of him has recently made an appearance, and I love that I get to discover a different aspect of the man I love.

Since I moved in, Rupert’s shared bits and pieces of his past, and I’m glad he trusts me enough to do so. My heart aches for him, though. Apparently, his dad ran for the hills when his mom told him she was pregnant. I’ll never understand why she assigned his sperm donor’s first name as his middle one. No wonder why he flinched when I randomly called him David. Rupert confessed that his modeling career helped his single mom make ends meet and also felt like silent, bittersweet revenge on his absent father, as if his fame proved his worth to a ghost. He pretends this is all behind him, but the shadows in his eyes reveal otherwise.

One step at a time. He’s the most beautiful person I know, inside and out, and I can’t wait to grow old by his side.

And that’s when it hits me, harder than when he was slamming into my mouth a mere minute ago. My hands cradle his face, and I kiss him chastely. I exhale before deciding it’s too late to chicken out… especially since it’s not like me.

“Marry me, Rupert.”

His brows furrow. His eyes scrutinize me. His heart thumps against my chest.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am, sweetheart!”

“You just had my cock in your mouth and swallowed my cum, and now you’re asking me to marry you?”

“I am!” I confirm, torn between amusement at his astonishment and annoyance at his lack of response.

“Moved by the power of my cum… Mmm… Interesting. Since it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, I’m tempted to say “yes!”

“Tempted? That’s not enough. How about, you’re the first man who made me cry with your magical voice. The first who made me come with your wicked ways. The first who showed me unwavering patience. I love you and your quirks. You are so fucking perfect for me…”

He nods his head yes while peppering kisses along my collarbone, tickling me. “I love you, Elliot. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’m the luckiest fucker on the planet. Musician or not, you’ve been rocking my world since day one. You are caring, selfless, and so damn hot… but what I’m most thankful for is that you manage to bring out the best in me. Like I said before, my love, it’s always been you, and it always will be. You were always it for me, like I was it for you before you even knew it.”

Always.

*** THE END ***