The weekend of the championship game, all football star Tre Griffin wants is to escape Miami and the reminder that he's not playing. When his flight out of town is delayed, he meets Michael Pappas in the hotel bar. Their attraction is immediate, and when he discovers Michael has no idea who he is, Tre decides to act on it.
One night of no-strings-attached passion stretches into a whole weekend, but with Tre all too visible in the public spotlight, he can't risk hoping for anything more. A single perfect weekend is all they have. Until Michael discovers the truth. And they both begin to think it could be something more.
"I actually did that once, a few years ago. She refused to believe he was anything but my good friend and the issue was dropped." Which was mostly true. She told him she wouldn't believe Roger was anything except his teammate, and if he kept insisting otherwise, he wouldn't be welcome home again. It was the first, and last, time he'd had the courage to try that stunt.
"He was able to keep his hands off someone who looks like you do long enough for her not to know?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Michael colored and picked up his ginger ale, gulping at it in long draughts. "I mean, maybe a little public display might have helped in that situation."
Tre was beginning to think that a little private display might help this situation. He couldn't put his finger on why, but he found the blush extremely alluring. Maybe because he didn't know anybody who blushed so easily.
"I doubt it would have helped that particular situation. But you might want to give it a shot. Guy like you should be able to find somebody on short notice easily enough."
Michael snorted. Popping a few peanuts into his mouth, he shook his head. "Nobody wants to listen to a history geek. Nobody that interests me, at least."
"Why do you think that? I know quite a few guys who wouldn't mind listening to a history geek." Tre shrugged casually. "I'd enjoy it. Under the right circumstances."
The slight pressure on his knee returned as Michael shifted his weight on the stool again. He licked his lips once, then again, before swallowing to speak. "I think if I ever found the right circumstances where someone like you would enjoy listening to someone like me, I'd probably be on my knees in a heartbeat thanking him."
The flirtation had been mild up to that point, but suddenly, Tre was taking it very seriously. The image of this man on his knees, his full lips wrapped around Tre's cock, his cheeks hollowed out, his throat vibrating, and Tre pushing deeper, was too much to ignore. His cock twitched, his erection growing.
"I think it probably wouldn't be too hard to find the right circumstances. Some place more private would be a good start."
"That would...be an excellent place to start." Tossing back the last of the peanuts, Michael dropped his hand to his lap. Except it wasn't his lap. It was Tre's thigh, and those long fingers were caressing the rigid muscle. "Acoustics are important, I think. If you want to hear me properly."
Acoustics? It took a moment for Tre's mind to catch up with Michael's suggestion, but when it did, his cock jerked again. "I think there's a place with good acoustics around the corner."
Tre stood and tried to discreetly adjust his erection in his jeans before gathering up his bag. He couldn't help but scan the faces in the room, looking for anybody looking at him. Michael wasn't following him, of course. He seemed the type to be smart enough to allow a few minutes to pass before he made his own way to the restroom. Still, if he thought anybody there recognized him, or would notice what was going on, he'd simply keep walking to the elevator bank.
Fortunately, nobody gave him any reason to pause or change direction, and by the time he reached the bathroom, he was rock hard.
It seemed forever before the door swung open again. It took all of Tre's control just to glance up from where he was standing at the sink, hoping to appear nonchalant in case it was someone other than Michael who entered. But there he was, green eyes bright behind his glasses, the line of his erection clear behind the well-cut pants.
Without breaking away from where their gazes met in the mirror, Michael reached behind him and locked the door. "You're not really interested in my theories regarding political civil liberties, now are you?" he asked softly.
Tre turned to face him. "Actually, in general I am." He wrapped his fingers around Michael's wrist, careful not to squeeze him too hard, and pulled him against his chest. He dipped his head, not quite touching Michael's mouth, and inhaled deeply. He just smelled of soap and sweat and Miami humidity. He fit well against Tre's broader frame, and he could already imagine what it would be like to have Michael's long legs wrapped around him. "Right this second? Not really."
"Good. Because I doubt very much I could put one together with you touching me like this." A long hand skimmed over Tre's shoulder, fingertips grazing along his neck where it was exposed by his collar. "May I touch you?"
Tre's hands moved down Michael's back to grip his firm ass. His clothes and the shape of his body were deceptive. Tre could feel his toned muscles tense and jump beneath his fingers. "Please."