Snap Timing Ch. 3 -- Kendall Discovers His Courage
This is published with the assistance of editors Eyetheo and Kenjisato. Their work improved both this story and hopefully my future first drafts.
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From that first moment on the field, when Jenks felt me up was tackled, my life had revolved around Jenks: his talent, his needs, his success. But after his father destroyed our relationship, and Jenks cut me out of his life, I realized I'd been lost in my love for him. I needed to find myself again, to make decisions based upon my needs. To do that, and to survive my depression, I needed separation.
Jenks had obeyed his father, and ended our 'snap timing' sessions. Without a word, Jenks had walked away from me as a lover. Now I was about to take an action that would've been unthinkable to us both only a few months ago. The media had consistently referred to the Jenks/Cranston duo in both present and future tense.
Quarterback Jenks always got top billing in the papers. Once, after an interview, Jenks told me that I was critical to his success. But, I noted, he never said that to the reporters. He'd tell me about our timing being natural, and how much he depended on my delivery of the ball to him, but these words were only spoken in private -- usually in the afterglow of an amazing orgasm.
Jenks knew of my strong desire to protect him. He had to know that the void he created by choosing to not touch me was devouring me. I'd sent too many suppliant texts, left too many phone messages/voicemails, and written too many pleading letters for him to not know. I loved him so much, I could accept Jenks inability to acknowledge my contribution to his success. I could not be with him on the field and be rejected off the field.
As I stepped forward, to answer the coach's call for a center to fill the opening with Jordan, I heard Jenks' chatter halt. Jordan was the only person that threatened his starting position. Jenks had never experienced real competition. If Jenks and I were on the team, the only real competition was for the backup quarterback and center positions.
My heart hurt. I had to shut it down to walk away from Jenks. It took all my strength. And I was faltering; I was about to look up at Jordan, this guy I'd once thought of as the enemy, and say, "Nevermind, sorry, I just can't." But before I spoke, I heard Jenks call my name.
"Kendall! Hey! Wait a minute," he yelled across the field.
I took a deep breath, and turned to see him running to me.
I knew that if he asked me, I would melt, and give him back control of my life. As he ran up beside me he placed his hand around the back of my neck. My heart stopped. I felt a small shiver that I recognized as the start of arousal. It was what I felt every time he touched me.
As Jenks leaned down I held my breath. He whispered exactly what I needed to hear, "You little fucker. Dad was right. He knew you didn't love me. But, anyone! Anyone but this bastard. With
you
he could take this from me."
Those words brought me back to reality. Jenks was telling me that he had loved me, and that he had let those feelings go, however I was to still put his needs and future ahead of mine. I reached up, wrapped my hand around Jenks wrist and after a short hesitation pulled his hand away. This was my first time rejecting physical contact from Jenks.
At that moment my healing began. I accepted the fact that I needed a new man reaching between my legs. I needed someone with the capacity to value me. Someone that would stand up for me. A man proud to say how much I mean to him both on and off the field.
As Jordan and I walked away from Jenks, I felt no desire to look back. After a short walk, Jordan brought us to a stop, placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned me to face him.
"Let's talk for a minute," he kindly offered. "I want to make sure you actually want to do this. You've been a duo for a long time... and I know how hard it is to break up and start fresh." I wondered what he knew, or thought he knew.
We sat on the grass, yoga style, facing each other. Jordan wanted to talk about what a successful alignment would look like for us. He started with, "What do you need from me for us to be successful?" Then followed that with, "What motivates you?" I started the answer to both questions with, "I want to be valued. I want you to care about my success as much as I care about yours."
As our discussion concluded Jordan looked directly at me and said, "I know I can only hope to achieve the success you and Jenks had on the field. I also know the depth of your companionship was a part of that success." I interrupted to say, "Jordan, I want you to know that I really appreciate that you have asked me about my needs and ideas. My relationship with Jenks on and off the field was complicated and was ended abruptly. I want to put it in the past."
Jordan closed the conversation saying, "I understand! And, I want you to know I care!" Jordan then reached toward me, grabbed the side of my bare leg just above the knee, and squeezed. It was a no contact practice, so we were wearing only our shoulder pads, jerseys, and gym shorts.
After firmly holding my bare leg for a second longer than expected Jordan said, "Let's start."
Without thinking, I reached out and gently stroked the back of Jordan's calf muscle.
"Thank you for asking me about my needs," I said, as we made eye contact. To avoid communicating too much with my eyes, I looked down and realized my fingers were inches away from a very private area. If I extended just one finger, I'd make contact with that dick.
Then reality hit: I didn't have permission to touch him.
As Jordan reacted to my touch by pulling his leg away, I noticed what a mountain of a bulge there was between his legs. We both quickly began to stand up. In the uncoordinated movement, our heads banged together, sending us both falling back to the ground in searing pain and a tangled mess.
