Jock Auction (21 page)

into the suburbs. I could feel a lump in my throat, like I was trying to swallow

something big and blunt and awkward, but I could also feel my cock twitch in my jeans.

The thought of Louis watching Craig and me was strangely erotic.

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“Big too.” I looked across and found Louis half turned to me, a smirk on his lips. I felt the blush rise at the same time my dick surged across my hip. I resisted the urge to adjust it where it was caught up in my boxers, knowing he’d watch me do it.

“Guess that’s how I like them,” I muttered eventually, voice clotted and thick. He laughed silently, shoulders and chest shaking.

“Man, I think he might have me beat, skinny little dude swinging that thing.”

The comment hung between us, and I fought the urge to put my hand on his

thigh, on his crotch. I think we both held our breath then.

I let my hand hover over the full bulge in his jeans a few inches above.

“Not quite sure I remember properly…”

Louis kept both hands on the wheel and didn’t look away from the road.

“Sometimes you can’t trust your memory.”

I knew he wasn’t going to push it. I knew he wanted it. And I knew that, if

anything was going to happen between us here, in this ridiculously sexually charged moment, it would have to be me initiating it, or at least following through on the flirtation we’d fallen into.

I loved Craig. I loved him. I just outed myself for him, for us.

And yet…

I’d pressed my hand against the denim before I consciously thought about what I

was doing, carefully wrapped my fingers around the swell of Louis’s cock before the rational part of my brain could stop me. Assuming, anyway, that it would’ve tried. That it didn’t want to feel the rush of blood through his lengthening shaft just as much as my unruly libido did.

Soon he was all the way hard, as big as I remembered, and bulging eagerly against

his jeans. I knew I could tug at the buttons of his fly, feel the hot skin against my palm, but I didn’t. I just let my hand rest there.

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“I guess you don’t really want to do that, Kyle.” Was Louis’s voice sad, somehow,

or regretful? I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

“I do, dude,” I replied to him without opening them, not wanting to see how he

might look at me. “I want to really bad. But…I don’t know.”

I heard his sigh. “Yeah, you know. You know with us it’s physical or something,

but I guess it’s probably something more with your boy.”

My boy. Not Craig, but my boy. I squeezed my eyes even tighter shut, hissed a

half-swallowed gasp as I felt Louis’s touch gentle but firm around my wrist carefully picking up my hand and then, the heat of his fingers burning into me, moving it over to my thigh.

He placed it down, letting his palm press against the back of my hand, and then

released.

“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying, and opened my eyes to see him shaking his

head.

“Come on, Kyle,” he told me. “There are better things to be sorry about. Be sorry

there are shitty people who’ll give you crap for what you got with Craig. Be sorry you’re gonna get more crap, one way or the other. Don’t waste it on the fact that you’re horny.”

“I just…” I started, but I stopped as he looked over at me.

“You’re horny. That’s cool; we all are. Fuck, Craig looked pretty fucking horny

before too. We just gotta decide when’s the right time to let the horny out. Even if that means holding back when you wish you didn’t have to.”

So I was a tease. And, I guess, an asshole since I knew Louis liked me and the only thing probably stopping him from acting on that was that he knew about Craig. And

there was me touching his dick and him taking the high road. Fuck.

The fact that my erection still hadn’t gone down didn’t do anything to ease my

conscience either.

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“So where am I taking you?” he asked me. “Home?”

“I guess Craig’s, if that’s okay, dude.” I was feeling even more like a dick now.

Sure, feel a guy up and then ask him for a ride to your boyfriend’s place. Smooth work, Kyle.

“Sure.”

We spent the rest of the ride in near silence, only punctuated by my occasional

directions; when we pulled up outside Craig’s place we both sat there, unmoving, for a moment.

“Don’t stress it, Kyle,” Louis told me, eventually. “This is just the shit that we go through.”

“I wish…well…”

He shook his head, still not making eye contact with me. “Hey, Paul seemed

curious enough, maybe I should mix up where I shower.”

I laughed at that. “Man, I can’t see how he’d resist, dude.”

Now he looked over at me, a knowing smirk on his face. “You sure didn’t.”

I grinned and pulled the door handle, wagged my eyebrows at him. “Nope, I

didn’t. Thanks for the ride, dude.”

Louis nodded at me, smiled. “Sure, Kyle. And you know we’ve got your back if

you get any more shit, right?”

I felt my cheeks glowing in response. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. I mean it.”

“Go see your boy.”

So I did.

To say that Craig was pleased to see me was an understatement. In fact, he did a

good impression of an octopus, wrapping me in a hug so tight I had flashbacks to Jeff trying to squeeze the life out of me earlier in the day.

“I was so worried,” he told me eventually. I ran my thumb across his lips; he

nudged against me, head insistent like a cat.

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“I’m here and I’m okay,” I said, letting my hand rest at the small of his back,

fingertips worming their way into the gap between his T-shirt and his jeans. His skin was hot and smooth as I traced tiny circles against it.

“What did, um, the guys on your team say?” Craig asked me, blinking. “I mean,

did they give you any shit?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Though Paul was pretty interested in what you were

doing.”

“What
we
were doing,” he corrected.

“No, mainly what you were doing.” I swallowed exaggeratedly; Craig rolled his

eyes.

“Typical jock. So will you get locker-room kudos for that? Oh, and did you tell

him how much you loved it when I fucked you?”

I shrugged, tried to adopt as close an expression to bashful as I could manage.

“No, they don’t know how awesome it feels to have your cock in me.”

He giggled. “I can’t believe they saw us… Fuck, that they saw my dick.”

“Your fucking huge dick,” I corrected. Craig punched me in the shoulder,

playfully; I winced melodramatically.

“Speaking of which, some of us didn’t get off today before we were

interrupted…”

Craig was pressing his crotch against me now, levering our hips together so that I could feel his hardness. I let my hand drop down to cup the compact curve of his ass.

“You could’ve carried on.”

“Oh, sure”—he glared at me, mock horrified—”given them a real show to

remember.”

I smiled back. “Well, I’m not the one who was begging to get fucked.”

“No,” he pointed out, taking my hand and shaping it around his dick. “You were

the one refusing to do it, if I remember right.”

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I gripped him with both hands, a fistful of ass on one side and erection on the

other as I pulled Craig in close to me.

“Well, I’m not refusing now.”

Craig cocked his head. “Who said I still wanted to be the one getting fucked?”

I could feel my ass twitching at his tone. The thought of his heavy length bruising its way into me again. It’d hurt, sure, but that had quickly been replaced with a feast of near-overwhelming sensations that had left me with jellied legs and a new depth of appreciation for the sort of things two guys could do together.

“Oh, so just what are you wanting?”

“You know what I want,” Craig told me, fingers gently tugging on the short hair

at the nape of my neck.

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“You would’ve told me exactly what you want earlier today.”

He looked down and then fixed me with a stare.

“I want my jock boyfriend on his knees.”

I licked my lips, suddenly eager.

“I want to push him forward so he’s on all fours, and then I want to jam my dick

inside him and fuck him until we both blow at the same time. I want to put you on the floor, Kyle, and then I want to screw the hell out of you.”

I ran my hand through my hair. Nodded. “And I guess you want me in a

jockstrap, right?” Craig stuck out his tongue, then yanked hard on my hair.

“What the fuck do you think?”

I let some of the lust I was feeling show in my gaze, my body softening in his

grasp. I allowed him to turn my head so that our lips could meet, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth as he kissed me eagerly. I moved my hand from where it had been

sandwiched between us, still wrapped around his swollen cock, and gripped his ass

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tightly, using it to pull him in close so that our shared hardness strained against the other.

“I have”—I gasped out the words between his forceful kisses—“a jock in my

bag…” He grunted his approval, pushing his hand down the back of my jeans and

cupping my butt through my boxers. “I have my whole uniform…”

Craig pulled our mouths apart and gripped my head hard. “Go change into it,

right now.” His pupils were huge, gaze distracted with lust.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, slipped from between his arms and scooping up my bag as I

headed to the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. My skin was flushed, lips swollen

and red where Craig had nipped and chewed on them. I realized my own pupils were

just as huge as his, my chest heaving as I sucked air into my shuddering lungs.

My jersey and pants of my uniform were buried at the bottom of my rucksack; the

socks were streaked in mud and wet, so I pulled out a spare pair of sneaker socks that I was sure Craig wouldn’t mind standing in their place. Of course, the one thing I knew he wouldn’t compromise on was the jockstrap, tangled and soft.

I peeled off my shirt, let my jeans drop, and then pushed down my boxers. My

cock lolled out, hard and already oozing; I allowed myself a few languid strokes,

watching as the skin bunched up at the end and smeared the stickiness around. Then I put a foot through each strap before pulling the jock up my thighs, trying to arrange my erection as comfortably as possible in the confines of the pouch.

I adjusted the straps until I could see they were lying just right across the tight mounds of my cheeks. Then on went my jersey, pants, and socks.

When I unlocked the bathroom door, Craig was standing across the hallway,

leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He conspicuously looked me up and

down, his stare predatory. I couldn’t help but glance down, slightly abashed.

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“Turn around, Kyle,” he ordered, and I did, slowly twisting on the spot until I’d

done a full three-sixty. “Lift your shirt up,” Craig continued, and I pulled up the hem with one hand so that he could see the creases of my abs.

“Nice, very nice,” he muttered. “Now, pull down your pants, just a little.”

Still holding my jersey up, I used the other hand to tug down the front of my pants until he could see the thick waistband of my jock, a half-inch of the fabric of the pouch, and a small triangle of skin at the side.

Craig nodded, carefully. “Now turn against the door and put your hands above

your head.”

I let my palms rest flat against the wood of the door as I sensed him walk up close behind me.

“The times I wanted to walk into the locker room and find you like this, Kyle,” he whispered, breath hot on my ear as he leaned in. “The times I wished I could put my hands on you and not have you react like a dumb jock, not beat me up or reject me.”

His hands slipped into the spaces under my arms, deft fingers pressing the fabric

of my jersey close to my skin and then running down against the tapering muscle of my chest until they reached my waist.

“I used to dream about making you feel good, making you realize that you could

have more from being with a guy, someone who really understood how to make

another guy feel good, than you could ever have from being with a girl. One of those idiotic blonde cheerleaders that all the team seems to want to fuck.”

He let his fingertips trace the curved straps of the jock through my tightly clinging pants and then pulled the fabric taut across my ass. I could picture how the soft, glossy polyester would look, stretched near translucent.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up knowing you’re gay, that you don’t get

to have the person you want, that you can’t even look at them without running the risk of getting beat up. How that makes you long for it even more.”

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His hands were easing down my pants now, carefully baring my cheeks below the

hem of my shirt. Craig slid his fingers over them, gently at first, then kneading them hungrily, pulling the muscled mounds apart until I knew he could see all of me. He laced his fingers through the straps of my jock, used his thumbs to paw at my ass, teasing and playing with it, the rough pads sending shivers through me.

“I would’ve killed to have done this, Kyle. God…”

I could feel his breath on me and moments later the hot wetness of his tongue as

the tip rasped across my entrance, tentative at first but then stronger, more eager, my cock surging to a new level of hardness as Craig worked me over. I started to reach down, wanting to touch myself as he licked me.

“Hands up, I said,” he barked. I snapped my palm back against the wall.

Craig reached around and, fingers deft, slipped the head of my cock out of the