Blood, sweat, and surrender

When Scott and I finally pulled up to his house, the first thing I noticed as we walked in to get a drink of water and use the bathroom was the smell of citrus. It was crisp and bright, unmistakable. His house always smelled like that, and it fit him—refreshing and steady. We both grabbed some water and went to the bathroom before heading back out to his SUV to get my luggage.

When we finally found the energy, we lugged my bags inside, both of us already running on fumes, but neither of us would relax until my clothes were unpacked. Together we carried my suitcases upstairs, talking through where things should go. The decision was the guest bedroom as there’s no room for my clothes in his room.

“I’d love for us to get ready together in the morning but there isn’t enough space in the main bedroom,” Scott said, pulling open the sliding doors. “I hope there’s enough space for your pile of clothes in the walk-in closet and all the dressers.”

“I’ll have more than enough room,” I said. “You have way more clothes than I do anyway.”

He smirked. “Are you saying I overdress?”

“I’m saying you own too many clothes,” I teased. “You could change your clothes a five times a day and you’d still have more than I would!”

We laughed through the exhaustion, side by side, tucking my things into drawers, hanging up dresses, setting shoes in place. By the time we finished, I collapsed back on the bed. We both took a few twenty-minute naps in the guest bedroom, too exhausted to move, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around us.

“I’m beat and could definitely use a shower,” I sighed when we woke up. “I want to just skip dinner and go straight to bed.”

Scott arched a brow. “Care for company? Showers are always better with someone else.”

“If my shower companion is you, then yes, I do want company,” I said with a smile.

We stripped in the bathroom. I threw our discarded clothes in the hamper basket as Scott turned on the water and made adjustments to the temperature. With a small gesture, I joined him in the shower; thankful that there were two showerheads instead of the one.

“Fuck, the water feels great,” I moaned, tilting my head back. “Thank you for getting my favorite shampoo and conditioner. And soap!”

“You’re very welcome, babe,” he said, grabbing his usual three-in-one.

I smirked. “One day, I’ll convert you to real shampoo, conditioner, and soap.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he winked. “This makes it easier for me when we have long practices into the night or early morning meetings with the owners.”

I rinsed the suds from my hair while he scrubbed down quickly, letting the hot water soothe travel fatigue. When we finished, I grabbed my deodorant/antiperspirant from the cabinet while he brushed his hair. That’s when I noticed his things weren’t crowding the shelf anymore.

“You moved your stuff,” I said softly.

“So you’d have space – my things are in the bathroom in the basement,” he replied simply, pulling on boxers and linen shorts. “And about sleeping arrangements—you’re welcome to join me in my room, but if you’d rather the guest room, that’s okay too. Your choice every night.”

I smiled, touched. “Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes—looks like attire tonight is casual.”

“You could wear a burlap sack and still look good.”

I kissed him before heading naked into the guest room to grab an oversized shirt with nothing else underneath it as I was too tired to care. I hung my towel, brushed out my hair, and padded downstairs.

“Dinner smells great,” I said as my stomach growled. “I don’t even remember what I ate last or when I ate last.”

Scott glanced up from the oven. “Thanks, babe. Very, very late last night on the plane—you probably had a yogurt drink or three at the arena. Want to pour some wine while I take the egg and bacon pie out of the oven?”

“Sure.”

It took me a minute to find the wine glasses and I found my favorite bottles of white wine and rosé chilled in his fridge. By the time I set the glasses down, Scott was plating the egg and bacon pie with extra bacon. We sat at the island, but before I could lift my fork, he took my hands in his.

“I know it’s important to you to pray,” he said gently. “Out of respect for your beliefs, we’ll pray each time we sit down to eat.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “But you don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

He bowed his head and prayed, and I squeezed his hands back. Once finished, we dug in, both of us silent until halfway through our second slice.

Scott shifted uncomfortably.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You have a question about how I can be sexually active while believing in God?”

“Did your God tell you that?” he smirked.

“No. My God doesn’t talk to me much but shows me things. Like in Song of Solomon—it’s also called Song of Songs. Some read it as God’s love for us. Others as a love and sex story between two people. To me, it means we aren’t meant to be denied sex but to enjoy it.”

“Interesting point of view,” he said.

“I’m liberal. I read the Bible as a guideline, not a rulebook,” I added, sipping my wine.

Scott grinned. “And the other question—why Bongo?”

“Because at an open mic night here, you sang way off key while playing bongos. And because your balls are the size of bongos.”

“What?”

“Yep. Not only do you have the largest dick I’ve had, but your balls are massive.”

“You’re honest!” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Want another slice?”

“Of course. More bacon for more answers.”

“And wine,” I grinned.

“Definitely wine after that one.”

We finished the pie and three bottles of wine between us. My contacts were killing me, so I went upstairs, removed them, and used rewetting drops. When I came back, Scott was asleep on the couch, lips parted, arm draped over his chest. Peaceful. I covered him with a blanket, grabbed a glass of water, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

Hours later, I was woken up with him joining me in bed. He pulled me close to him, his arms around me from behind; one squeezing my large tits and the other fingering my wet pussy. I moaned in pleasure.

“Do you want more, baby?” he asked huskily in my ear.

“Yessssssss,” I moaned.

Scott helped me to roll onto my back. I spread my legs as he was kissing and caressing my body. He made his way down to my waiting pussy and expertly used his tongue and teeth. I repeatedly climaxed on his tongue. When I thought I couldn’t climax anymore, I did three more times. After the last time, he slid up my body and pressed the tip of his unusually large dick to my pussy.

“Do we need to use condoms?”

“No,” I whispered. “I’m on birth control.”

In one swift thrust, he was deep inside of me. I screamed his name in pleasure and he came inside of me instantly, shooting a thick stream after thick stream of cum deep inside of me. He was significantly larger than Vince in length, width and girth…I was stretched was an understatement.

Once Scott caught his breath, he began to thrust his large dick in and out of my pussy. Within seconds, he was suckling one of my nipples and was rolling the other in his forefinger and thumb – often switching between nipples. The more he suckled and bit my nipples the more I climaxed on his dick and he climaxed inside of me as often. An hour or so later, he shifted my legs over his shoulders so he could thrust deeper inside of me. He picked up the pace and how hard he thrusted.

“My god, babe,” he moaned and grunted. “Your pussy is so tiny and tight…..I can’t stop climaxing in you!”

“I love how you stretch me…it hurts,” I moaned in pleasure. “Don’t stop, babe. I love the pain…yesssssssssssssss!”

Scott climaxed in me one last time, screaming my name as if he were in the scrum. It took him many minutes to shoot his last load of cum in me…his dick continued to twitch in me. As he pulled out, we both climaxed once more.

“I wish you could stay forever,” he murmured as I was falling asleep in his arms.

We were so jet lagged and tired from the previous day talking with each player that we slept through the alarm. It finally woke me ninety minutes later. I shot straight up and woke up a heavily snoring Scott. We rushed through our shower and breakfast then stopping for coffee before we hit the arena.

The players were already scrimmaging when we arrived inside. When they saw me hand in hand with Scott, they groaned. I smiled. We stopped at the bench where there was padding for me - shoulder pads, mouth guard, helmet clipped tight…..the helmet resembled the football helmet of an American football player from the 1920s however it contained current updated padding and technology. The tech in my gear monitored impacts, flashing red if a headshot was too strong and the helmet was soft enough that if a player hit my helmet with any part of their body, they wouldn’t be hurt.

The drills were the players were participating in looked intense, and I stretched with the medics and junior coaches before joining scrimmage. When I was properly stretched, I asked the players to not take it easy on me. For a few hours, it was going well as they taught me defensive and offensive plays until one of the players swung his elbow wrong and slammed me straight across the nose.

White-hot pain exploded. Blood gushed. Ears rang.

Scott was on the ice instantly, shouting at the player, face red with rage.

“Scott!” I barked through the blood and swelling. “Chill out! It was an accident. I’m fine.”

The medics wanted me sit while the others finished drills. By the time everyone showered, I’d stopped bleeding, though the swelling was bad. Instead of leaving right away, we gathered in the video room to watch films of the players.

The coaches rolled footage of past matches and practices, pausing to highlight sloppy passes, defensive holes, and refs’ reactions.

“You see this?” one junior coach said, pointing to a clip of an old match. “That’s misconduct territory. Fighting with each other, arguing with refs —it all adds up. The owners are watching and they’re not happy….which is one of the many reasons why Deppgrl is with us.”

I leaned forward, holding an ice pack to my face. “That’s exactly what we need to talk about. I’ll be notifying the owners of future misconduct issues It has to be addressed now before it escalates.”

The room went quiet. Some players looked nervous. Scott backed me up. “She’s right. This isn’t just about penalties—it’s about reputations. Yours, and this team’s.”

We went clip by clip, breaking it down, my throbbing nose forgotten in the flow of strategy. When we wrapped, Scott gave me a look that said, Enough—we’re going to the hospital.

At the hospital, the intake staff member clucked as she checked me in. “Oh my. Now that is a broken nose. Did he do it?”

“Nope. He wouldn’t be standing if he ever laid a finger on me,” I said to the intake staff member smugly. “He’d be in more need of the services provided than I would be.”

Both she and I laughed as she finished checking me in. Before Scott and I could sit down in the waiting room, I was called back but Scott stayed back because he noticed my nose started to bleed again as he gets queasy by blood. I had my vitals taken by the nurse and then provided pain meds by IV for pain as a nursing student tried to help me stop my nose from actively bleeding. Scott rejoined me a few minutes later.

The ER physician examined me. “Swelling’s bad  but it appears to be a clean break. We’ll get imaging done first, then realign your nose. Due to the injury, you may have a black eye or two.”

Scott hovered at my side, arms crossed but eyes soft with worry. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

The doctor chuckled. “She’d have to be, Coach. It looks like the boys did quite the job!”

“Hey, dorkwads….you know that I’m right here, right?” I said as I was getting frustrated. “Doc, just because I’ve got amazing tits doesn’t mean you have the right to mansplain or over explain shit me unless its neurosurgery. I am right here with a broken nose. You talk to me – the patient…the All Blacks’ newest coach and Social Emotional Learning supervisor – not the head coach.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the doctor said realizing he was in te wrong. “I’ll get someone to transport you to imaging immediately.”

As I went for imaging, Scott had the intake nurse upload pictures of me scrimmaging with the All Blacks players and asked her to include that I am the team therapist and coach. For future billing, they were to bill the owners at their personal expenses. By the time he got back to the exam room, I was back from imaging and waiting on the plastic surgeon

The plastic surgeon came in, brisk but kind. “We can reset it today. Pain meds will help as you’re healing. You’ll be sore but healed in weeks. All that I ask is for you to be careful blowing your nose and sneezing.”

“Good. I just want to breathe and not look like a Picasso painting.”

Scott squeezed my hand. “You’ll still be beautiful. Broken nose and all.”

I rolled my eyes, heart softening.

I held onto the exam room bed as the plastic surgeon put my nose back into alignment. I groaned in pain as soon as he felt the cartilage get back to where it needed to be, he inserted internal nasal splits afterwards to help my nose heal and appear how it looked previously.

After leaving the hospital, we stopped to get dinner to go from the place Scott ordered from when I received my discharge papers and care instructions of my nose. When we arrived to the restaurant, I started to open my door to pop inside to grab the food.

“Deppgrl, stay in the car,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to think that I hurt you.”

“No one is going to think that unless you come inside with me.”

“For my sanity, would you please stay in the car this time while I get the food?”

“Fine!” I said as I was plotting my plan.

Scott hopped out of the SUV and closed the door. I immediately sent pics of the practice, me getting my nose broken and my trip to the hospital to the primary owners of the All Blacks.  By the time that Scott returned to the SUV, I was finishing the last call I had with te owners.

“Why am I getting texts from the owners?”

“In my country, anything like this would make news,” I said. “You could lose your job and your reputation. God forbid any news company comes to the arena for practice and sees me like this? The whole country knows that you’re still legally Jane but you’re romantically involved with me – you or her could be accused of hurting me. Is losing your job, reputation and your private life worth it?”

“No, it isn’t,” he sighed as he put his SUV in gear and headed home.

“The owners will leak pictures of me scrimmaging with the guys and one of the pics where my nose gets broken anonymously over the next couple of days. They’ll add some kind of tagline of me being the only coach willing to gear up and scrimmage against the guys.”

A few minutes later, we arrived to his house and unloaded the bag and took the food containers and the plasticware to eat.

“I’m going to eat out on the deck,” I said knowing that the cool night air soothing after a long day.

“I’ll be upstairs in the office,” he sighed.

Later, when we bumped into each other in the kitchen, plates in hand, he smiled softly.

“I’ll clean up,” he said.

“No, I’ve got it,” I said.

“You’ve had quite the day.”

“I’m the one who could potentially save your job if any press or paparazzi spins an accident into something else.” I said as he conceded.

I tossed the takeout containers and plastic ware while he lingered, then suddenly he leaned in, kissing me. Soft at first, then deep, hungry.

“You joining me in my room tonight?” he murmured.

“No,” I said as I looked at him. “I don’t expect you to understand what is considered normal for me in my country. I know that you don’t see it but what I did was to protect you. What would happen if any of the owners show up at practice tomorrow and see what I look like while they know that I’m staying with you? You have a history of having a short fuse; it’s been televised throwing water bottles, arguing with the refs and the other coaches, kicking benches and the like. The owners, the players and I all know that you wouldn’t hurt me but the public doesn’t. Once the pics are watermarked with a made-up social media handle and then leaked, the heat will be off of you and you will still have your reputation and job.”

He kissed me once more. “Fair enough. Hope you sleep well.”

I carried my water upstairs, stripped, took out my contacts and went to bed.