Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 2: Harper

I wasn't sure what had crawled up Jake's ass lately but I didn't like it. No, correction, I didn't trust it because he was so... uncharacteristically not Jake.

The normally cool, confident, arrogant guy I'd hated enough that - well, yeah. My point was that normally cocky asshole Jake had become mentally distracted and stressed out, almost to the point where he was unraveled.

And it sure freaked me the fuck out.

Since Jake stayed tight-lipped about whatever the fuck bothered him enough that his eyes filled with panic after we had sex, I was left to draw my own conclusions. And I came up with two, neither of which seemed entirely plausible because my emotional capacity couldn't fit on a grain of sand, but I heaved my best guess.

First, on the surface, Jake could've been stressed about his football season. The better USC performed, the better he played, the more pressure was mounted on his shoulders. I'd known this, as well as how stress relief came along with why he wanted our fuck-only agreement. That was partially why I'd given him the blowjob sendoff, the other part... I wasn't entirely sure but knew I wanted his head cleared because of me. I honestly hadn't expected the retribution but, at the expense he'd started to ruin my BOB-only experiences, fuck, I was glad that he had.

The best part? The way Jake's eyes looked at me while he dipped my new dildo, the one he'd bought me, in and out. Usually Jake squeezed his eyes tightly shut while we fucked until he came, but with the dildo, he gazed down like he memorized every detail of me. The intensity in his dark, heated eyes washed my skin in goosebumps and only magnified the sensations further.

Can't remember the last time I came that hard. I'll need it, to hold me over for a bit.

Him though...

While I felt bad about his elevated stress levels, over and over Jake had not only risen to the different team's challenges on the field this season, but excelled past anyone's expectations. With four games left in the season, he held a career-best passing percentage and was on pace to break his own personal best and also possibly some of USC's quarterback records.

I had zero expectations for Jake when it came to football but even I couldn't drown out the 'analysis' sports announcers ran on him during the San Jose State game's preview, actual game, and postgame coverage I saw leading up to their three road game stretch.

As quarterback, Jake was the first and most scrutinized USC player. Every play, successful or not, were dissected and scrutinized to the point I understood why he shut off his phone the day before a game day. Jake had always handled the pressure and attention football games brought, and at least during interviews, his shoulders seemed relaxed, his deep voice even-toned, and eyes bright with pregame excitement.

Since I assumed Jake was asked over and over about microcosm-level football details, I never asked him myself if that was what bothered him. Drawing attention to a stressor never lessoned its effect, so instead I held up my end of our bargain. The most pathetic part was how happily I opened my legs, wrapped them around him, scissored them between his, knelt down, or put them into whatever the fuck position he needed while he fucked out his frustrations.

In what I considered personal growth, I even cuddled with the fucker. It wasn't any source of pleasure for me personally but if Jake's need for football-related stress relief included his meaty, sweaty arms wrapped around me, then I stayed. Our post-sex pillow talk was fortunately limited and I knew with each puppy-dog eyed look he gave me when I left that he wanted me to stay overnight but I just... couldn't.

Thankfully, he never asked but those looks he gave me bothered me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. Each hurried exit became harder than the previous one, as some weird pull that I stayed tugged me back harder each time. With each minute longer that I melted into his embrace, the more I ignored the warning signs of attachment that fired off in my brain.