"Run it again," Spencer growled as he sent the football spiraling back at his best friend and quarterback.
Jordan caught the ball. But instead of following his friend's order, he let his arm drop. "How much longer are we gonna be here?"
"Until I stop fucking up my routes," Spencer clenched and released his fist, itching for Jordan to stop asking questions and get back to throwing.
The quarterback ignored his friend's clear agitation. "It's okay to have an off day. Or in your case, an off week... but we can't keep doing this every day. Practice ended two hours ago, man."
"Throw the ball, Jordan."
"No, I'm out," shaking his head, Jordan spiked the ball at the grass, "I still got work to do and a little something called dinner to get to."
With no one left to assist in his drills, the brooding football player had no option but to collect the scattered footballs and follow after his friend.
"Now what did that bag do to you?" Jordan arched an eyebrow at Spencer. The zipper of his duffle bag had taken over as his new emotional outlet.
"I just got a lot going on," Spencer sighed, letting go of the zipper and finally bringing his anger down a notch.
"Why don't you just call my sister," Jordan suggested, knowing that his twin was the only person who could calm him down on days like this.
"They having girl's night," Spencer explained as he threw the bag over his shoulder and stalked towards the exit. "And anyways, I got some work to catch up on, too."
"It's okay to take breaks," Jordan offered, but he was met with silence.
As he followed the wide receiver out, Jordan did what any friend would do in this situation; he pulled out his phone and sent a much needed text.
_____
At the Baker house, the ex-roommates crowded around the kitchen island as Patience and Coop showed off the latest TikTok dance that the singer had forced her girlfriend to learn. Hips were shaking, and Olivia was doubling down in laughter when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.
Once the hoots and hollers had died down, she reached back to check who had messaged her. It was Jordan.
Spencer needs you.
Her smile quickly faltered, and she immediately headed for the stairs, head down as she texted her brother back, without any explanation to her friends.
In her room, she headed straight for her closet and pulled out her emergency overnight bag. On nights like this, the last thing she wanted to be doing was packing, so she always kept it ready. Before heading out, she took a detour and grabbed a few extra items from the bathroom.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Coop called out when she reached the bottom of the steps, but before she could sneak out undetected.
"Um, yeah. I'm just going to go to Spencer's for the night."
"What is he more fun than us?" Patience feigned offense, and Layla playfully rolled her eyes.
"No, um, something came up," Olivia explained, her hand already on the door handle, ready to go.
Sensing the seriousness in her tone, Coop laid back on the teasing. "Aight bet, let us know if you need anything."
"I'm good, but thank you." And with that, she was out the door.
_____
For his junior year of college, Spencer had decided to rent a one bedroom apartment near campus in lieu of rooming with Jordan. He enjoyed the space to himself, and on most nights, Olivia joined him for dinner and to spend the night. After years of sharing close quarters with family and friends, they both appreciated the privacy.
Between school deadlines, practices, and social events, it had been a few days since he had seen his other half. And though he desperately wanted to be with her, he had promised himself that he would let her enjoy herself for the night since she had also been battling a heavy schedule.
So falling back to his second resort, he clicked on his mom's contact on his phone and closed his eyes as he listened to the ringtone.
"Hey baby," Grace answered, her voice distant as her laughter rung out over the sound of his former principal crooning along to Freddie Jackson in the background.
"You busy?"
"No, D'Angelo's just messing around," she chuckled. It had been almost two years since her move to Oakland, and ever since, she sounded lighter. More free. That made Spencer happy.
"Just calling to check on you. It's been a minute."
Hearing the somber tone in his voice, Grace stepped out into the hall. "How are you holding up, son?"
Spencer kept quiet as he listened to her footsteps. Once the music was barely audible, he spoke. "I don't know, ma. It's a lot going on."
"Talk to me, baby," Grace encouraged.
Letting out a heavy breath, he detailed out his recent stress surrounding football season and classes. When it wasn't one thing, it was another. As he went on, he chose to leave out a key contributor to this current wave of overwhelm that he wasn't quite ready to share yet.
After patiently listening to him, the mother offered her advice. He thanked her and then they hung up.
Holding his knuckles against his eyes, he tried to press back the tears. He rarely ever cried. In fact, after three years in college, his ability to regulate his nervous system had improved significantly. But regardless of his emotional progression, every now and then, he let himself slip through the cracks.
The call hadn't worked the same magic that it usually did. Most likely because everything he had shared were things he had dealt with in the past. He knew how to balance his football and class schedule. It was a specific life decision that was bringing his anxiety to levels he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Moments later, a soft knock interrupted his breakdown.
"Fuck," he muttered quietly, swiping the back of his hand along his wet cheeks.
Looking through the peephole, he couldn't help the soft smile that spread across his face.
Leaning against the door frame, he instantly felt a bit of weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of his girlfriend. A duffle hung off one shoulder while her school bag hung off the other. In her hands, she carried two bags of food. From the smells, he knew she had brought his comfort foods.
While he was taking inventory, her eyes lingered on his face, studying his bloodshot eyes.
"Hey," her quiet voice brought his attention back to her face.
His smile began to fall as they stood there, eyes glued on each other.
"You going to let me in?" she finally asked.
"Yeah," he nodded, stepping aside. As she passed by, he pulled her backpack and duffle from her shoulders.
In the kitchen, Olivia unloaded the containers of food. As she opened the first styrofoam container, releasing the steam from the freshly baked mac and cheese, his arms snaked around her waist. When he squeezed her tighter, she closed her eyes, her fingers going still along the edge of the plates.
Neither of them had to say anything. Her arms clutched onto his as he breathed in her scent, the warm vanilla doing what the call to his mother couldn't. Several minutes passed before he slackened his hold.
"You doing okay?" she asked quietly, trailing her fingertips along his forearms.
"No," he admitted, pulling back and returning to the table.
"And that's okay," she affirmed, turning around and following him once she had loaded up their plates. "You wanna tell me what's up?"
Spencer watched her carefully as she pushed an assortment of wings and a heaping pile of mac and cheese in front of him. His original, untouched dinner of turkey, brown rice, and roasted broccoli got dragged to the side.
"After we eat."
"Okay," she nodded. Sitting across from him, Olivia dug into her own serving of cheesy macaroni. More pressure wouldn't help. It never did. So until he was ready to talk, she let the food ease his thoughts.
After dinner, Olivia laid stretched out along the couch. Her head leaned against the back cushions while Spencer kneaded at her heels.
"I'm going to declare for the draft after this season," he let out quietly, finally vocalizing what had been weighing him down.
A proud grin broke out on her face. The news didn't surprise her.
"We got two more games this season. Then the playoffs. Then that's it. My collegiate career is over."
"Congratulations." She smiled softly, reaching forward to catch his hand. "I'm proud of you."
"I'm nervous, Liv."
"You shouldn't be," she shifted onto her knees and crept closer to him, "the networks have been saying for months that you're a definite first round pick. Worst case scenario, you go in the second or third."
"About us," he clarified.
Her heart sunk deeper into her chest. "Oh."
"I could go anywhere, Liv. The chances that I stay in LA, or even in California for that matter, are slim. What if I end up on the east coast. That's far. We ain't ever been that far before."
Olivia could see the stress that this was causing him. Their physical closeness was, and had always been, a strong pillar of their relationship. Too long without quality time, and they both became the moodiest versions of themselves. So she understood his anguish. Him getting drafted to an east coast team would be a challenge. To put it lightly.
"It would only be one year," she whispered. "I'll come to as many of your games as I can, and once your first season is up, you'll be able to come visit more often. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we can get through it, Spencer."
"What if weekend visits aren't enough," he turned to her, his eyes pleading for her to tell him otherwise.
She took a deep breath. "We will make it work. Whatever time we get together, we'll just have to make the best of it. Plus, there will be phone calls and FaceTimes and long winded text messages," her thumb caressed the inside of his ear. "As long as we remember that there'll be an end, we can push through."
Leaning forward, Spencer pulled her into a kiss, starting slowly then building up until he was desperately sliding his tongue against hers.
She eventually pulled back, leaving their foreheads touching as he panted through open lips.
"Remember, we don't even know where you're going yet. And until we do, all this stress isn't going to help. You may not end up far at all."
He pressed his chin forward, placing multiple soft kisses against her lips.
Stretching her legs out from under her, she scooted off the couch and stood in front of him.
"Come with me," she presented her palms for him to grab. Then throwing her weight back, she pulled him off of the couch.
In his bedroom, she instructed him to strip down to his boxers and lay on the bed. While he followed her command, she rummaged through her bag then left to the kitchen.
She came back with a heated neck wrap, and after turning off the lights, she grabbed her creams and oils and settled on the bed.
"Roll over here," she patted the space between her legs.
Crawling up her body, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nudged the hem of her buttery soft top away with his nose. His lips brushed along her stomach, and when his fingers slipped under the elastic of her shorts, she let out a low moan.
She pulled his hand away and laughed quietly. "Turn over."
Looking up through his eyelashes, he waited for her to insist. And much to his dismay, she did.
Flipping around, he let the weight of his shoulders sink down onto her hips as the back of his head rest along her lower stomach. A breathy sigh escaped him when she dragged the warm pad under his neck.
For what felt like hours, her fingers methodically moved around his face, mixing lightly scented products to melt away his worries. And even though he was the one receiving the treatment, she got just as much relaxation from the process, her own stress slipping away as her fingertips drew tight circles around his temples.
Occasionally, she would bring her lips down to his, giving her fingers a break before she started back up again. Then once his breathing had mellowed out, and she was sure that he had fallen asleep, she inched out from under him and repositioned her body along his, nestling against him until she drifted off, too.
Through the night, they periodically switched positions. But Spencer's arm always found its way around her torso and pressed her to him.
At one point in her sleep, Olivia aimlessly reached back to brush away at a pesky feeling on the back of her neck. Missing Spencer's fingers by a couple inches, she let out a soft groan and shifted against his body, settling back into her dream.
Except the feeling quickly came back, this time firmer, as Spencer's lips made contact with her exposed neck. A low moan fell through her lips as he began to suck on the soft skin behind her ear. Then gentle soon became feverish, and as a result, a pleasant fluttering developed between her legs.
As Spencer continued his attack on her neck, she slowly opened her eyes to look over at the gap between the curtains. It was pitch-black dark out, so she could only guess what wee hour of the morning it was.
Behind her, Spencer sensed that she was awake, or at least awake enough, and pulled away. Flipping her over, he positioned her so that her stomach lay flush against the mattress.
Even in her sleepy state, she instinctively raised her hips, and in one slick motion, he slid off her shorts and panties. She let out a whimper as a finger slipped inside her. Then another. After the initial tension subsided, her muscles relaxed, and her legs fell open for him.
As he rotated his fingers, pumping in and out, she felt him hard against the back of her thigh. She knew it wouldn't be long before his fingers were replaced.
His fingers curled up inside her, and as if magnetized by his touch, her pelvis rocked with him. Soon, her wetness began to leak out of her, signaling that she was ready to take him.
Pressing himself against her, he rubbed his thickness along her slit, coating himself in her juices before lining himself up at her entrance. Her head nodded along the pillow as her fingers grasped for the sheets. They moaned in union as he slowly pressed into her.
"Shit," he groaned hoarsely as he held still, relishing in the feeling her warmth wrapped tightly around his dick.
She let out a moan for him, and then she felt his fingers grip onto her thighs. He pushed her legs open further so that he could settle between them. His forearms circled her head as he lowered the rest of his weight onto her back. The feeling of his body pressed against her cleared her mind of all thoughts.
Slowly, his hips began to thrust into her, and her eyes fell shut as he fucked her from behind. With nothing to possibly worry about at this hour, he kept a slow pace, and the sounds of him sliding through her wetness melded together with their satisfied moans and ragged breathing.
Letting him know that she was there, that she saw him in his most vulnerable state, she slipped one hand under his, lacing their fingers together. She pressed his knuckles against her lips, kissing them softly.
As he continued to move inside her, the pressure began to build. Sinking her teeth into his hand, she bit down as he repeatedly hit her deepest spots.
"Go on, baby," he commanded, his voice thick with need. He needed to feel her.
She knew there was no waiting for him. And after taking a couple more thrusts, her body shuttered as her walls pulsed. When he didn't ease up, she let out a cry.
"You feel so good around me," he panted, lost in his own stimulation.
The hypersensitivity of him continually stroking into her sent jolt through her legs. She half-heartedly pleaded with him, knowing that she would only beg harder if he stopped.
Luckily, he showed no signs of slowing down as he shoved his free arm under her lower stomach, pressing her impossibly closer. By then, the only thing she could do was whimper as his hips snapped hard against her ass. His breath was hot on her ear as his guttural noise came from deep within. Once he found a steady rhythm again, her body began to react.
"I'm close, Liv," he groaned as he felt her gush onto him.
"C-cum in-side me," she stuttered through her moans. "I'm, ughhh, k-eeping track."
Her words triggered something else in him, and he untangled his fingers from the hand she was still gripping onto. Before she could anticipate it, he wrapped his hand around her neck while the other pressed harder against her stomach.
"Spen–," she cried as he relentlessly pounded into her. Before she could finish, her walls clenched down on him, her toes curling as intense pleasure coursed through her body.
That was his undoing. With a loud grunt, he dropped his hips onto her ass, his pelvis jerking through his spurts.
As the ecstasy rushed through him, his fingers released from her throat, and she took the opportunity to press his palm to her lips.
"You're incredible," he sighed, placing a kiss onto her shoulder.
Fully spent, but still semi-hard, he enjoyed the feeling of her after shocks as he stayed nestled inside her. When he eventually slipped out, he rolled onto his back.
Olivia shivered as the air hit her sweat-drenched back. Looking over, she watched through heavy lids as Spencer's chest continued to heave.
He had woken her up to fuck her for as long as he could manage. Now, any tension she had left in her body had dissipated, and the weakness in her legs served as confirmation.
He usually did this when he had truly reached his mental limit. Just like tonight, he would talk, then allow her to calm him down. Then once his thoughts were no longer haunting him, he would go after the physical release.
Crawling towards the other end of the bed, she moved between his legs, nudging them open with her shoulder. She lowered her head on to his hip and placed a kiss on his tip. The tangy taste of their combined juices slipped onto her tongue.
He reached down to tangle his fingers into her curls, and she popped him into her mouth. As she caressed him softly with her tongue, the effects of her multiple orgasms started to take a hit, and her eyes grew heavy. But she persisted and didn't stop until he was clean.
By the time she lifted her head back up, he was snoring softly, worn out from the middle of the night exertion. On shaky legs, she slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, her hands reached out in front of her so that she didn't accidentally stumble into an unsuspecting wall.
After cleaning herself up, she located a clean washcloth from under the sink and ran it under warm water. Back in bed, she gently wiped the stickiness from his abs and chest.
"Thank you," he murmured, stirring at her touch.
"When you're anxious, you call me," she whispered, curling up into his side once she dropped the rag off the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry," he rolled his head towards her. At the sight of the redness on her neck, he brushed his thumb along telltale signs of their session. The guilt kicked in as he wondered what other marks he may have left along her body. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm perfectly okay." Pushing herself up, she pressed her lips against his. "I love it when you do that."
A deep groan rumbled through him.
"Now, go to sleep," she murmured, kissing along his jaw. "Don't worry, I'll be here in morning."
And with a clear mind, Spencer closed his eyes, letting the soft touch of her lips ease him into a deep sleep.
_____
Not what I was going to try and post today, but the idea struck after a while of not being inspired for one shots. This was a request for a sort of parallel to the anxious thoughts story. Then I took some extra liberties with the uh creative direction 😅