and cheap? How to express this mixture of overwhelming joy, simply because Daniël is sitting there,

with the rest of the reserves, and grief for the loss of everything he hasn’t made an inventory of yet?

Still, the sound coming from the stands when Daniël is being announced with the rest of the

substitutes is more than a polite acknowledgement, and he can’t quite remember if the Kinbridge

Town hymn has always been sung that loudly.

He isn’t ready for the match, for being there. Neil is a good lad, offering him moments of

distraction and the knowledge that he is protected and welcome, but he isn’t Daniël. Steve remembers

the crowd could be anything, from a force driving him on to heights he never before felt were within

reach, to a claustrophobia inducing human wall of hostility, but he had never felt so overwhelmed by

it that he didn’t even know what to feel.

“If the Bolton fans are trying to chant anything nasty about Dan, I don’t think he’s even able to

hear them because of the noise our supporters are producing,” Neil makes a joke.

But there will be away games ...

Not now. He must stay in the moment; concentrate on the here and now.

In his case, it means being aware of Daniël doing his obligatory runs and stretches,

conveniently in Steve’s line of vision. This is his anchor, and a damn sexy one at that. The way that

boy wiggles his arse is both a reminder and a promise.

From Neil’s reaction, he understands when something happens on the pitch that might result in

anything good or bad, but without it he wouldn’t know. It’s too foreign, too unfamiliar in all its

familiarity. He’s happy, though, when Matthew scores, and isn’t oblivious to the biting

disappointment when Bolton equalise three minutes before half-time.

Neil gets him a hot chocolate.

“You’re okay?”

Not really, but how to explain this core of being filled with joy, surrounded by something that

reminds him too much of panic to call it anything else but panic, even though he’s absolutely certain

it’s not panic at all?

Right before the second half, Daniël sits next to him for a few moments, taking Steve’s hands

into his own.

“I’m cold and a bit scared and so happy to see you with the rest of the guys. I really hope you

get to play this afternoon.”

Daniël rubs Steve’s hands warm. “Better? And I’ll ask someone to bring over a blanket and

cushion for you to sit on. I should have thought of that sooner.”

Steve smiles in appreciation. “That’s sweet of you. After a few matches, I’ll be used to it.

You’re glad to be back?”

“I guess I am but it hasn’t sunk in yet. The crowd’s nice, though. The fan club brought our

banner and even made another one to welcome us back: seen it? You heard them chanting your name?

It makes me so proud.”

A quick kiss on Steve’s lips and Daniël is back in the dugout. That will be another photo in the

tabloids, the football magazines, spreading around the internet, Steve realises, but the knowledge

leaves him indifferent.

Within minutes, Francesco Moreschi changes the one all into a lead for Kinbridge Town. Steve

can’t help but grin from ear to hear when he sees the Spaniard-Italian jump up and down like a fiveyear-

old on a sugar high while the others try to congratulate him.

Daniël is still doing his runs and stretches.

“Look,” Neil says, just after another attempt to score from the Bolton striker, “Dan’s being

called back to the bench. It looks like the gaffer wants him in the game.”

Sixty minutes, and the electronic placard goes up. Number 21 out, Number 30 in.

Daniël acknowledges Steve and touches Levee’s hand in passing, making sure the referee sees

him entering the game.

Steve feels his heart expand with pride and love.

Daniël gets the welcome of clapping and shouting and chanting and singing. For minutes, his

name is all there is to hear. Waving through the stands it forms a sea of sound. He gets showered with

affection and admiration. The love, courage and utter humanity he has shown over all those months

are being rewarded in the best way the fans know how.

And they carry Steve through the remaining thirty minutes of the game.

Chapter 27

“More?” Daniël’s voice is an open invitation; his middle finger teasing against Steve’s

prostate. “I think you’re ready for two fingers. You think so, too?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Steve tries to open his legs a bit wider, but Daniël stops him with a calming

gesture.

“Don’t do that. I want this to feel perfect for you, without even the good hurt.”

Steve nods, accepting his lover’s lead in this, joyfully giving over to the fingers exploring the

most intimate part of his body.

Two fingers means there is some stretching, but it’s ever so gentle and whatever minute hint of

pain might form gets soothed away by his beloved’s gentle tongue.

“I want to be ready to feel your cock inside me…”

“I’m just as eager for the wedding, or should I say the wedding night, as you are, but I think we

still need a lot of practise.” Daniël has a downright mischievous grin on his face.

“You think we really should wait for that one night? I’m not a virgin, remember, although it

has been more than six months since my last time ...”

“The first time you had a man inside you …”

Almost tangible knowledge moves between them, but Steve knows neither of them is able to

touch it.“

You believe I’m not ready yet to try it again?” Steve moves his body ever so slightly in a

counter rhythm to that of Daniël’s fingers. “God, Danny ...”

“Like it when I do this?” Daniël does something and it’s so subtle Steve’s not even sure it is

actually something, but it makes his body quiver with pleasure.

“Does it feel this good when I fuck you with my fingers? And I still want you to answer my

question.”

“Honestly? I believe I’m the one not ready yet. And yes, it feels that good. Why do you think I

keep asking for more?” Daniël presses his lips against the taut scrotum, retracting his fingers, but

pushing them back in as soon as Steve makes a sound of disappointment.

A few moments later, he licks the come from Steve’s belly, his fingers still as deeply inside his

lover as possible without pressing the knuckles of his hand against the tender flesh. Then he gets out

as slowly as he got in.

Steve smiles, sated and content, but not missing that his lover is still in need of completion.

“Stay on your knees between my legs and jerk yourself off.”

It’s a softly spoken order, but it makes Daniël blush in excitement.

“You got such a beautiful cock. I love the colour and the texture. Love it when it’s hard and

ready, but love it just as much when it’s resting against your thigh...Love the smell and the taste … I

love every aspect and detail …” So rarely he finds the words, even before speaking became a slow

task, too reserved as he is in the verbal expression of the sexual element of his love for Daniël. Doing

is limited only by the boundaries of his body; actually saying it in great detail is a whole different

ballgame.

“Gets me all horny when you talk dirty to me. I felt your eyes on me when I did my stretches.

Fuck, it feels great to look good for my man.” Daniël pumps his shaft a few times, his gaze never

leaving Steve’s face. Shameless lust burning in grey-blue eyes.

“I thought my heart would burst with pride when you walked on to the pitch to take up your

position. That handsome, courageous, loyal, talented guy is mine and everyone at the Chestnut Road

Stadium knows it. Everyone watching the match on TV knows it.”