Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 148

Chapter 148

Aiden

My schedule had been relentless—filled to the brim with drills, back-to-back meetings, and an exhausting amount of time spent managing the fragile egos of other men. Mornings were consumed with Daniels as we mapped out plays, afternoons were spent debating lineups with the dean, and whatever free moments I could scavenge were dedicated to quietly lining up the right eyes to watch my boy. Scouts didn’t just appear in the bleachers by chance—they had to be coaxed, bribed, or charmed into paying attention. But Noah made every bit of the effort worthwhile. He was absurdly fast, sharp as a tack, and driven with a hunger that made everyone else seem sluggish by comparison.

What had started as a half-hearted reward system—good practice, good reports, equals one very private prize—had evolved into the most effective strategy I’d ever stumbled upon. Not that I’d ever tried anything remotely like it before. Hell, it was completely unprofessional. Possibly illegal. Definitely messed up. But damn if it didn’t work.

And let’s be honest—if I expected Noah to stay focused, loyal, and bleeding for me on game day, I had to give him something in return. A young guy like him, running hot twenty-four-seven, wasn’t about to go Monday through Friday without release—as he’d argued more than once with impressive eloquence. So I handed out favors like a coach calling plays—earned, conditional, and always at my discretion. Score a touchdown, crush a drill, ace a test, and he got praise… and he got paid in the only currency that truly kept him loyal. Not like some twisted dad rewarding a kid for good grades—fuck that—but like a man who knew exactly how to buy devotion: with sex, a little humiliation, and the kind of praise that made him melt.

Every day, I made him wait. He pushed through extra drills, two additional hours at the gym, sprints that left his calves trembling—then he’d come back, breathless and begging, and I gave him what he wanted. Not everything he wanted, but at least the release he needed—we both did. And yeah, he could deny it all he wanted, but deep down, he loved being under my control.

I craved the rough edges of him—my cock pressed deep down his throat, holding him against the cold tile as I fucked his face, my hand stroking his cock. I loved watching him swallow me whole until I decided he could have release with those four magical words: “Come for me, baby boy.”

Last night’s variation had been almost tender in its cruelty. Instead of the usual domination, we pressed together—cock to cock—hands wrapped tightly around each other while the water hammered down on us. We stroked and thrust against one another until his whole body shook from the effort of holding back. I made him wait on purpose because I wanted him frayed and raw for the four words I used like a trigger. When I finally said them, we came hard together—a chaotic, breathless surrender that tasted like risk and adrenaline. Afterwards, I lathered a sponge and washed him with my body wash so he could head to his guitar lesson smelling clean, carrying my scent like a secret between us. He liked that, and I liked knowing he carried me with him.

Then, like every other evening, I left him to finish his shower and get dressed while I walked out alone. I hated leaving him—hated it the way you hate walking away from something that isn’t yours to keep forever.

Thursday arrived far too quickly—our second big game of the season, against Central State. We were ready, though. Practice had been brutal all week, sharpening the boys like blades, and you could feel the hunger burning in their chests. Every breath, every laugh, every smack on the shoulder pads during warmup carried an electric spark. They wanted this.

I was wrapping up a meeting over lunch, papers piled high on my desk, when a knock came at my office door. Daniels stepped out, nodding goodbye, and there he was.

“Coach Aiden,” Noah said, his face the picture of seriousness, “I have an important question for tonight.”

I motioned him inside. “Come on in, Blake.” Closing the door, I leaned back against my desk. “What’s the question? Everything okay?”

He hesitated—just long enough for my concern to prick—then dropped it like a bomb. “Well… we have a game tonight, so…” He glanced up through his lashes, cocky as hell. “My question is, when am I gonna get to suck you?”

My eyes shot wide open. The bastard. I hissed at him before anyone walking by could hear through the door. “Keep your fucking voice down.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him close enough to bite his ear with my words. “I’ll make sure you can suck me extra hard tomorrow night—after I beat your ass for trying this shit in my office again.”

Then I spotted him—freshly showered, hair still damp, eyes bright like they held their own floodlights. His teammates clapped his back, hyping him up, and he matched their energy, soaking it all in.

I gathered the team into a circle in the locker room, raising my voice for the pep talk. Outside, the stadium was already roaring, cheerleaders lined up at the tunnel doors, and the air was so charged it felt electric against my skin.

This was it. My boys were ready. And so was he.

Just before they headed out, I caught his eye across the room. “Blake, give me a hand real quick.” The excuse didn’t matter—nobody cared—I just needed him alone.

He followed me without hesitation, like he always did. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, I spun him around and pressed him against the wall. His eyes went wide, but before he could say a word, I crushed my mouth to his, kissing him hard, greedy, reckless.

When I finally pulled away, he was panting, lips swollen, stunned—but grinning like I’d just handed him the world.

I shoved his helmet into his chest, my smile twisting devilishly. “There’s your good luck. Now go win us this game, baby boy.”