Free Isolation Play (Dev and Lee) by Kyell Gold

strip to my boxers and lie face-down in my bed. I bunch the pillows under me like they’re his chest and press my nose into them. His scent lingers there, buried so I have to really push my nose down to get a good whiff of it. It gets me good and hard, ’til I can almost feel him under me.
    I’d never press him to come out. Even if he did, we couldn’t live together, couldn’t curl up together every night. But at least I can talk to him.
    It doesn’t even cross my mind that it’s midnight where he is, not until later. He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, tiger.”
    Even though I’m tired of having the phone next to my ear, his smooth voice calms me, relaxes my muscles. I don’t even realize how tightly my tail was curled up until it stretches out beside me, draping over the edge of the bed. “I’ve been on the phone for hours,” I say. “Reporters. I don’t know how they got my number.”
    “ They all talk to each other,” he says. “So what did you say to them?”
    “ Oh, it was fine. I didn’t mention your name, or species. They asked a lot. But mostly they wanted to know about my teammates, and did I feel discriminated against. Some of them asked what I thought about the plight of gay football players and whether this would open the door for more of them to come out.”
    “ And you said...?”
    “ I said I hope so.”
    He chuckles. “That makes two of us. What about the rest of it?”
    “ Just told the truth. Kept it bland and positive, like Fisher told me.”
    “ He’s got the experience. How many calls did you take?”
    I stretch out to my full length, on my stomach. “A lot. But it was nice to talk about stuff, you know?”
    “ Yeah,” he says, in that way that tells me he really does know. “I’ll keep an eye on the Internet tomorrow. I hope they quote you accurately.”
    “ Why wouldn’t they?” It’s funny, but until he says that, I’d kind of forgotten that the things I was talking about with the reporters will end up in articles that people will read. My mind goes back to talking to Frank, and saying, “I can’t really talk about stuff in the locker room.” And I’m imagining my parents reading it, my mother saying, “what stuff?” and my father just putting it down with that look he gets.
    “ Just be careful,” Lee says. “Don’t get all caught up in being famous now.”
    “ The guys are already giving me a hard time about that.”
    “ I’m just saying.”
    “ I can take care of myself.”
    I can hear his smile. “That’s my line.”
    I growl. “Well, I can take care of myself too. How can I get in trouble telling the truth?”
    “ This from the person who kept his private life secret for two years?”
    “ Which I wouldn’t have had to do if not for a certain conniving fox.”
    “ You didn’t put up a whole lot of resistance, as I recall.”
    I let out another growl. “Hey, I’m only a football player.”
    “ Hence why you’d better be careful when talking to reporters.”
    That takes a second to sink in. “Christ, doc, it was funny once. I told you, I can handle it.”
    “ I’ll take a look tomorrow.”
    “ You don’t trust me?”
    He snorts. “I don’t trust them.”
    “ I’m pretty sure—”
    He cuts me off. “Look, you have a football game to prep for. I don’t want you to be worrying about this other crap.”
    I exhale. “Yeah, you’re right.” He doesn’t say anything. “You know, doc, it’s not as much fun arguing with you when I can’t drag you into the bedroom to make up.”
    “ We can argue again on Monday.”
    I feel a slow smile spreading over my face. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
    His voice is a breathy purr. “You’d better hold me to something.”
    By the time I hang up and turn off the light, even my boxers are feeling tight. It isn’t until the next morning that I realize with a flush of guilt that I never asked him whether he talked to his boss.

Chapter 3: Work-Safe (Lee)
     
    Morty’s voicemail, left on