Commitment Collection, page 28
part #1 of Commitment Series
It's game on. I slam my accelerator down.
But going off the track has dirtied my tires and my grip is restricted. My rear end continues to skid around, losing time until I end up back where I started this lap, and crossing the finish line in fourth.
"Fuck!" I scream down the radio before remembering that these snippets are broadcast on the TV.
“Don’t worry about it. There's still time in the season. And the car held up well.” Chase speaks in my ear.
I don’t reply, I’m too angry with myself. If I’d had faster pitstops, then the outcome would have been different. I allowed myself to put love ahead of professionalism and that's what amateurs do. My result today reflects that.
Pulling up away from the podium, I could punch someone out of pure frustration. But instead I must speak with the journalists who will be begging to discuss that last corner, and no doubt the pitstops.
I disappear into the garage with my helmet still firmly in place and only remove it when I’m safely out of the view of fans or cameras. Switching my safety gear for reflective sunglasses, I see my face in their lenses and I’m reminded of the other night when all of this started. I should have known at that point that Kyle wasn’t fit. I did know, but I chose to ignore it.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I also ignore my desire to be alone and head outside to the media pen where a throng of eager microphones will be shoved under my nose.
“Look after me,” I say to Jessie as I approach her as she waits by the door. “I’m not in the mood.”
She nods, “Come on, let’s get it over with.”
Elliott
It was as bad as I predicted, and there’s a ruckus as soon as I emerge from the exit.
“Here we go,” I mutter to Jessie while simultaneously plastering my media smile across my face.
Jessie beams back with her plastic smile. “It’s OK. I got you.” She steers me over to interview number one and shoves her Dictaphone under my nose.
Of course they ask me how I feel about losing my grip on the championship and I regurgitate the same spiel they get every time this happens to any one of us drivers. How the season isn’t over yet and how we’re just looking from one race to the other. They know it’s bullshit, but they eat it up anyway.
And then we get to it, the pitstops.
“I have some stats for you here,” Idiot interviewer number one states.
I say nothing, maintain my smile, and wait. The best thing to do in these situations is say as little as possible and smile as much as possible. I tip my head to one side to show I’m listening when really I’m waiting for them to get on with this whole fucking nightmare.
“You’ve been spotted out with Kyle Beaumont many times over recent months. Did you know, that in terms of statistics, he’s your fastest mechanic in the pit stops? Today, on every single stop, he was the first to finish. It’s clearly a match made in heaven.”
The blond stops speaking and smiles, nodding to encourage my reply.
He was fastest?
I didn’t lose because of him, or me. It was just factors outside of our control.
“I didn’t know that. I’ve not had the chance to study the figures yet, but that’s great news.” And it is. My shoulders release and I feel ten pounds lighter. My lips split, revealing a full on genuine smile to the general public watching at home.
Blondie nods, “Yes, we thought you’d be pleased. Have you been giving him extra tips?”
The conversation goes on. And so do the interviews. They really go on. But I don’t care anymore. Kyle wasn’t to blame for me losing the race. Neither he nor I could have done any more.
Yes, I need to understand what happened, why my car wouldn’t travel as fast as the others around this circuit, but there’s nothing that either one of us two can be blamed for. It's more likely my lack of speed was down to temperature and air thickness.
And then I realize.
This wouldn’t have made the slightest difference to me in the past. I would still be full on pissed off about losing the race in such a spectacular fashion.
And I am. But its effects pale into insignificance because now, something else is more important than winning.
I already have the winner’s trophy.
Kyle
“I’ve been waiting for the right time to speak to the team,” Elliott announces when we get back to his after a day at the factory. We’re home for five days before we take off again.
“Oh?” I wait. What’s he been up to?
“Yes, so today was the day.”
I’m going to have to ask. “To speak about what?”
“About how they treated you when Noah came and did his stalking piece. It was unnecessary the way they behaved toward you.”
He’s carrying on speaking, but the words go unheard as my brain struggles to process what he just said.
“You did what?” My voice is high pitched, and loud.
“Well you always knew I’d have it out with them didn’t you?”
“Uh, no. There’s nothing to have out. They did what was right for the safety of all the team. They didn’t know what had gone on. They needed to contain the situation while they investigated the situation. What have you done?”
He looks at me and takes in the outrage splashed across my every feature. My wide eyes bulging at him, and my jaw, gaping open in disbelief.
“I spoke to Chase. Told him we were together and if they were going to treat you like that, then we as a team will go elsewhere, championship or not.”
My stomach lurches. “You said what?” My previous high pitch escalates. I don’t know what else to say. I should be telling him he’s an idiot to risk his career over something which isn’t important to me and I wasn’t even that badly treated. I should also be telling him that he is not in charge of my path and much as I appreciate his concern, he is not to meddle.
Instead of doing any of this, I slump down on the sofa and sit staring at him, my chin in my hands.
He stares back, hovering, now less certain of his convictions.
“What did they say?” I manage after a few drawn out seconds of silence, my voice now soft.
“They apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again. Of course, we’re all hoping there won't be a need, but the sentiment needs to be that they give you respect as my partner. You are not just an employee Kyle, much as you’d like to be. You are important to me and therefore you need to be of primary importance to them.”
I hear his words, but it’s like I’m not listening even though I’m trying really hard to focus on what he’s explaining. He’s just not making any sense.
“But El, you and I are in a personal relationship. That’s not work.”
“You got into that mess because of a personal situation that did not separate itself from work. The two are inextricably linked.” I kind of see where he’s going, but that doesn’t give him the right to meddle in my career.
“What would you have done if they’d said you and I could leave together? We’re in the best team.”
“You and I are also the best team. Do you know you finish first every time at the pitstops, and that’s despite your old man hip?” He smiles, but it’s wonky with the stress.
“I know. I practice more than anyone else. I want to be the best I can be for you, and for me, Elliott. The two are linked, but the me part is because this is my career that I’ve given my right arm for. You can’t take charge of it without even discussing anything with me.”
He dips his head. “I thought you’d know I’d be picking this up. It just wasn’t the right time before with the racing being back to back that’s all. Did you think I'd forgotten about it?”
“Of course I did.” I know he’s done this with my best intentions at heart, but he’s wrong. I take stock while he waits for me to think through our options.
"Well, let this be a lesson to you. Even if you think I know whatever the hell it is you have going on in that head of yours, check! Because, much as I adore you, you’re not a mind reader, my gorgeous man.”
And with those words he knows he’s forgiven, (just) and he stops wavering at the other side of the room and joins me on the settee. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t say it’s OK because it’s not. But, instead, I kiss his lips and pull him close wrapping my arms around his body and my tongue around his as the heat of our two bodies intertwining melts my appalling dismay.
Elliott
We merge into one.
The heat of our argument combines with the tension of the last few weeks to create an internal explosion which smashes down barriers, annihilates hurt, and releases any semblance of emotions we’ve been holding back.
We rip at each other’s bodies, clawing away clothes and tumble around on my sofa like it’s the first time we’ve met. That kiss transports us to another world, where reality is unimportant, replacing it only with the realism of the moment. Of each other and of love. There’s no time for foreplay. The urgency of our need drives torrid action. This is lovemaking at a whole new level. The tenderness of touch is discharged as our hearts send blood pounding through our bodies, making our temples pulse and our chests gasp for noisy breaths as we suck in through our noses, not daring to rise for air through our mouths, not wanting to break the magic.
Sweat seals our skin together, we stick to the other, and peeling away just feels so right. I drift away, focused only on the power of Kyle’s magnetism over me. How I want nothing other than to be locked into him, to be locked inside him.
I grab the tube from the side where we keep it for moments such as this, but never quite like this without breaking our seal. I manage to stop dry humping into him long enough to slick our cocks with a layer of lube before melting back down on top of him and grinding my love against his.
He gasps, pulls away in a sharp involuntary movement formed from the intensity of our connection. A reaction to the power my touch has on him.
I push up on my arms, my elbows locking as he clasps his hands around them. He pulls against me and connects his length.
“I want to feel you inside me,” he groans, his voice deep and husky.
I reach for the packet, but the pressure from his hand increases against my arm.
“No,” he repeats. “I want to feel you inside me.”
The moment freezes as his eyes bore into mine, imploring me to understand and to agree. A flurry of butterflies tries to escape from within my rib cage as a jolt of electricity shoots down my penis.
“We’ve had all the tests with work. I want to know how you feel, not some plastic sheath, but the man I love.”
I hesitate. I’m not sure why, a habit perhaps, but more likely because, much as I have been promiscuous, I’ve never done this. But I’ve never loved with such devotion either. My attachments have been heady fizzes which burn out in a night. Kyle is different.
He lifts his legs and hooks them over my shoulders, a slight nod moving his head.
My fingers move down to his offering and his eyes roll as I circle him. Tease him about what’s to come. Shifting my hips backwards, I jab my bare cock against him and he groans.
“Do it. I want to be with you, properly.” He presses against me, too tight yet for me to be concerned about my decision, but in that moment, I'm discovering another layer to Kyle and to myself. His begging sends an additional charge of desire shooting down the length of my dick. It’s so solid. It’s not going to be long before I’m exploding.
I ease my finger into him. There’s nothing reserved about our wanting right now, and as he bucks up against my circling tip. I’ve barely begun to stimulate him before he’s begging for more.
Being able to deliver his ultimate pleasure is the most important thing in my world. The kick I get from scissoring my two fingers into him, readying him for my onslaught has my muscles quivering in anticipation.
Kyle
He drives against me, the tip of his cock probing at my widening entrance. A warmth washes over me, melting my insides while simultaneously splashing rivets of scalding water against my every nerve.
My heart catches. My head stops pounding as I wait to experience the man I love inside me, totally devoid of any shroud. The burn of his solid length against mine is eased by the oily lube, but it’s him I feel within the tight walls of my entrance as he slides in to me and slams against my most sensitive spot.
Our frantic tugging and pulling calms as the energy between us interlaces and bounces intense vibes of trust between our naked flesh. The vibration is overwhelming. This emotional connection is like nothing I've ever before experienced.
We move slowly, careful not to rush this momentous first time. I lock my abs in place and use them to curve my spine until I’m able to reach his mouth with mine. He lowers to meet me half way and our tongues delve deep into the other’s recesses, our heads tilted to allow deeper access. My ankles push against him as the slapping of his balls speeds in time with our passion which is building like a fire ball, threatening to own our bodies. I grip my arms around his waist, knead his butt as my fingers dig into his flesh pulling him into me, then releasing a hand to massage my cock, while levering his hips with the other.
“Stop.” His voice is gruff through his desire.
“What?”
He tugs at my hand. “Wait with that.” And with a flurry of panting and jerking, our momentum picks up again and we’re thrusting and grabbing and kissing and licking and...
He releases inside me, his explosion hits against my spot and my neck kicks back as his power sends electricity soaring to every extremity. My fingers tingle, my toes curl, and I can feel each hair follicle as they raise in response to the glory of his touch.
Elliott rolls onto his heels and leaves me with a gaping emptiness as he slips out. The cold air blanches the heat. I watch as he stands, bends over his old fireplace with his butt facing toward me, fingering his hole now slick again with lube.
He cups his balls in one hand and strokes underneath, then up to where I know he wants me.
Standing behind him, I’m radiating excitement. I nip at his neck and down his spine, trailing my tongue down to where his fingers had been, pulling his cheeks apart and blowing a cool breeze against his sensitive nerves.
“Oh, Kyle, you are so fucking hot.”
I expel hot air into him, spread him wider, and finish him with even colder air. His hips shoot toward the mantelpiece as I slide my finger inside him and work around until I reach his G-spot, pressing against it, circling wide.
His legs slide wider and I work in another, curving my wrist so I can massage him in just the right place. His hand is sliding to the ebb and flow of his tide as he loses his mind to my touch.
Putting a few inches between us, I wipe a slick hand over my aching cock and arrange myself.
“Do it.” His hands don’t move from their V position over his head and the look of this man, spread eagle for my pleasure is all consuming.
I take a hurried breath and slip into him, working up to his spot while clutching at his slim hips. My grip slackens as he thrusts against me slamming around my bulging head. He feels smooth, like silk against my skin, a hot, tight wall of muscle, relaxed for my satisfaction. I work, in and out, enjoying the most intimate sensation of our skin against skin as the thrill of us truly offering everything of ourselves to the other overtakes any sense of reality.
I open my eyes, look at the gift that he is, and my decision is made. The clarity of that moment is all it takes to tip my body over the edge. A surge flows through from my groin and all I can think about is giving myself to this man. I unload into him and he groans, “Oh Kyle,” as he bucks his hips back down onto me, gasping for air.
Elliott
I nip into the kitchen to grab two bottles of water out of the fridge while Kyle lies naked on the sofa. I take a second look before I pad out of the room, committing the image to memory. My phone is flashing on the side, so without even thinking about what I’m doing, I check it.
There’s a text from Clifford. “Need you to come in and see me. Both of you. ASAP.”
“Shit!” I say.
“What’s wrong?” Kyle shouts from the living room. His voice is lighter than normal, chilled and carefree.
My natural response is to say nothing, but I swallow the words back down. He needs to know. Instead of shouting the news from the kitchen, I wait until I’m seated on the edge of the couch before opening up.
“Clifford sent me a text, he wants us to both go and see him ASAP.”
“OK. Why is that an issue?”
I fill my lungs, hold my breath in my stomach for a few beats and wait for the coolness of the air working through my body before I reply. “I’m not sure, but he was concerned that Noah may cause some problems.”
“Like what?” His brow is scrunched.
“It's difficult to pinpoint, exactly. He hasn’t said, but I think we should go and see him as soon as we can get an appointment and deal with whatever is going on. It’s easier now that we’re back for a few days.”
“OK.” His words belay his tone. He’s confused, and his eyes flicker dark apprehension. “You know, I thought there was something you weren’t telling me. Was I right?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. They sent a private investigator to look at Noah’s place. He had an attic full of pictures of you and us. He’s been stalking you for quite some time.” I don’t tell him there are photographs of his dad. Why cause further unnecessary upset?
“Fucking Noah, even with the restraining order he still manages to wheedle his way into our most intimate moments.” He spits the words out as he stands. “Come on then, we might as well go now, the sooner we leave the sooner we can have the fucker dealt with.”
I have no comeback. He’s right. And so, with the same heart which had only a few minutes before been filled with the weightlessness of joy, I somberly arrange to meet with Clifford.
