Jock Auction (4 page)

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ALEX PENDRAGON

It was only as I was running sudsy hands between my thighs that I realized he

was watching me again. Trying to be inconspicuous in the running water but at the

same time very obviously staring as I scrubbed around my crotch. I paused, looked up, and was rewarded with a blush so strong it was clearly visible despite his skin’s flush from the heat of the water. He took a breath, a deer-in-headlights expression forming on his face, but I spoke before he could mumble something apologetic.

“You can look, dude.” He frowned, gaze flicking between mine and glimpsing

down at my loosely hanging dick. “I don’t give a shit. I’m not gonna beat on you for staring.” Craig nodded slowly, a small smile tentatively curving his lip.

“You’re amazing,” he said, finally. Now it was my turn to blush, though I think I

hid it with a well-timed cough and by slapping some soap onto my face. “I don’t just mean your…y’know. I mean how nice you’ve been to me, when I don’t deserve it.”

I grunted noncommittally, eyes clamped shut as soap threatened to blind me. I

gestured feebly in the vague direction of the water and muttered, “You mind…?” as

distinctly as I could without opening my lips properly. Craig quickly stepped to one side, allowing me to push my face under the spray and clear away the suds that had already begun to sting the corners of my vision. I ducked my head, scrubbed at my eyes after having made sure my fingers weren’t themselves soapy.

It was as I was staring down, blinking away water, that I found myself looking at

his dick again. He wasn’t soft, that was clear—I guess I wouldn’t be soft if I stood in a shower with a girl I liked—but he wasn’t hard either. He was at that fat, firmly squishy state somewhere in between, emphasizing quite how well hung he was. It still looked out of place dangling between his slender thighs.

“What did you have to do to get that big dick?” I asked him, chuckling. He

flinched a little—perhaps he hadn’t considered that just as he was looking at my body I might be examining his—and his hands made a quickly aborted movement toward

covering himself. I wondered just how many people had actually seen him naked; he

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certainly didn’t have the body language of a guy who was comfortable being looked at, even when he was wearing clothes.

“Um,” he stuttered, “it just got that way.”

I laughed properly then, gave my hips a quick shake so that my own dick

twitched and flicked water from its swinging tip. I wasn’t as big as Craig, though I was probably a fair bit thicker, but I didn’t really care.

“Well, I hope you’ve been showing it off to plenty of people,” I told him. “I reckon gay guys would be pretty excited about a big dick like that.”

He gave me a sour look. I guess I already knew that he hadn’t really had much in

the way of attention so far. That was more down to the quietly conservative way of our town than it was anything wrong with Craig himself. In fact, though I wasn’t really all that familiar with judging guys for their attractiveness, even I could see he was cute enough—delicate features offset by a mouth slightly large in comparison, and striking green eyes you only really saw when his black bangs were water-slicked out of the way.

“Just me and my friend,” he finally said, holding up his hand in case I hadn’t

figured he was talking about jerking off.

I shook my head with exaggerated disappointment. “Wasted talents, Craig,

wasted talents.” I shook my hips again, to emphasize my point, and after a beat he chuckled, gave his own hips a flick that sent his arcing length slapping wetly against his thighs. I grinned at him, pleased somehow. “Dude, that’s what I’m talking about. You got blessed; might as well make the most of it!”

He shrugged, a sheepish expression back on his face, but at least with less of the self-consciousness of before. “Yours is nicer,” he told me, tipping his chin to gesture in my direction.

I looked down, then wrapped my fingers around my junk and kinda shook it all

out, as if I was presenting it for inspection. There’s a band around the middle that gets really thick when I’m all the way hard, and my old girlfriend had once told me that it was totally noticeable when we were screwing. Softer, it wasn’t so pronounced, but it 22
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did still leave me with this chunky look that meant I wasn’t too bothered about getting glanced at in the locker room.

“It does the job,” I agreed with him, and he licked his lips conspicuously.

“Yeah, I remember.”

We both laughed then, him looking down to where my fingers still rested behind

my dick, jutting it forward like a butcher offering up a slab of meat for judgment. I knew then, in that sudden moment, that he was going to touch me again, and I also

knew I wasn’t going to stop him.

He made a half step forward, all it took to close the distance between us, and at

the same time reached out to flex wet fingers around my shaft, squeezing gently,

exploratory. Craig was concentrating on where his hands were—thinking, perhaps, to make the most of whatever I’d let him get away with in this unusual situation—so he didn’t see me looking him up and down, or the look of decision and resolve that likely passed across my face as I reached out myself and hooked my own fingers around his cock.

He started then, looked up at me in surprise, but I didn’t say anything, didn’t even smile, just let my hand play along his length. I didn’t want this to be a “pity stroke,” or so easily dismissed as a dumb game a straight guy plays with a gay guy. I wanted Craig to know that I was here with him, in the moment, and that while this probably wouldn’t ever happen again, I wasn’t going to make cheap excuses about my motivations.

It was with that, with my hand holding, gently stroking his thickening erection

and my own growing in his fist, that I pulled him closer and moved my head toward

his. The first time he’d kissed me I hadn’t known what was happening. Now, though, it was of my own doing: the softness of Craig’s lips touched mine, and we were kissing.

He tensed for a moment and then quickly settled into it. Perhaps, like me, he had a sense of the one-time nature of what was happening and wanted to make the most of

the chance he had been given. We were chaste at first—at least, as chaste as you can be when you’re gently jerking another guy off at the same time—but eventually I felt the JOCK AUCTION | 23

careful tickle of his tongue across my lips and, bolder myself, I let my own lips part and began to kiss Craig in earnest.

For the first time, really, he took command: his hand slipped around the back of

my neck and pulled my face in close, his other hand still hauling at my cock. No girl I’d been with had ever been so dominant with me, and I found it was making me harder,

hungrier. I let my arm hook around the small of his back, his torso narrow and trim, and yanked him against me so that the frantic action at our groins was crushed together between our soapy bodies.

Trying to jerk each other wasn’t working, at least not with that sort of proximity, and so we focused more on the slick friction as our dicks ground and slipped together. I pushed Craig against the wall, his back hitting the tiles with an audible thump, and—

lips never separating—used a hand on each of his hips to guide my own circular

movements. In return, I felt his touch as it trailed down my shoulders, traced the edges of my stomach, and then came to rest on my ass, his slender fingers digging into the firm mounds.

He broke the kiss, just for a moment, and rested his forehead against the bridge of my nose. “Fuck, Kyle, what are you doing?” His voice was hoarse, probably not helped by the fact that I was humping my erection up and down against his, feeling of our tightened balls brushing together in an incredible, addictive friction.

I squeezed his hips hard. “Didn’t you want this? Isn’t this exactly what you were

hoping for when you bought me?” He rocked his head back, crown smacking with a

wet clatter against the wall, and I glanced down to where his collarbones jutted proudly from his chest. Part of me wondered if I could hurt him—break something—if I carried on this rough treatment, but another part of me said that if he wanted to be with a guy, then he needed to be ready for everything that involved.

“Oh, God…” he muttered, focus lost as I squeezed a hand between our bodies and

gripped our dicks together, feeling the swollen heads brush against each other. “Yes, I want it. It’s better than anything I could’ve asked for.”

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I chuckled, feeling him trying to pump his cock through my fist and doing my

level best to rock in rhythm with him to frustrate his jerking urges. “You didn’t ask, remember? You just kissed me. And now look at us.”

He did look then. Looked straight into my eyes, one hand cradling the side of my

face, the other gripping at my ass.

“Yeah, look at us.” His eyes really were an incredible color, piercing and rich.

Trails of wet hair streaked down his forehead, and his lips were almost as flushed red as his cheeks. “I want you so bad, Kyle.”

I answered with my hand on his balls, tugging his dick around so that the tip

kissed up against the head of my own. We would’ve been sharing precum, I’m sure,

had the water not been washing it away.

“You’ve got me, okay?” I told him. I didn’t need to point out the time limits of

that; I knew he knew, that he understood that this didn’t make us boyfriends or me gay, or that it in fact meant anything more than a couple of guys being curious with each other for a single moment in time.

We stood that way for a half minute, staring at each other, me gently grinding the swollen heads of our erections against each other.

“I want to do bad things with you,” he told me, and I wasn’t sure whether he

meant bad as in morally wrong, against some sort of religious bullshit his parents had fed him growing up, or bad as in superdirty, nasty stuff. I knew what gay guys did together—I’m a jock, yeah, but I’m not stupid—and I wasn’t really up for butt sex, no matter how into the moment I was with Craig.

“I don’t think I can…y’know,” I started, awkwardly, but he just grinned and

shook his head. Flecks of water splashed from his shaggy hair and into my face, forcing me to blink back at him.

“I’m not expecting you to fuck me,” he said, voice low and husky, and I

instinctively gripped our dicks tighter. “But I bet I can do things that would blow your mind, if you trust me.”

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Trust. That was a weird one, certainly. I’d trusted Craig first off, and he’d taken advantage of it and kissed me. What we’d done since—what we were doing now—took

a hell of a lot of trust, though. And when it came down to it, I suppose I did trust him. I felt like, with what he’d told me, why he did what he did, I could believe him when he said he’d respect my limits. A slow smile spread across my face.

“Blow my mind, eh?”

He pushed me backward, out of the shower, shutting off the water as we went. I

grabbed a towel from the rack—tossed Craig one too—and rubbed myself down

briskly. I could probably have done a more thorough job, but I was more than a little curious about what he had in mind. I was still only partly used to how he watched me, no matter what I was doing. Like he was trying to capture photos in his memory of

what I looked like, even as I was going through the most mundane routines.

And then we were back in his room, and he was pulling the towel from where I’d

wrapped it low around my waist, cocky somehow because I guess I’d given him

permission to be. My dick was half-hard, sticking straight out from my groin rather than pointing up like it does when I’m totally boned, and he slipped his fingers around it and licked his lips, guided me back toward the bed.

I sat down on the edge, Craig’s own cock—far harder than mine and still

impressive in its length—bobbed in front of me, and I gave it a playful swat to make it bob and wave. Maybe I should’ve bent down slightly, let him feed it into my mouth just as I’d slipped my own between his lips earlier, but I still wasn’t sure I was ready for that. This messing around with another guy I could handle—it was just a laugh for me, whatever Craig’s motivations were—but sucking dick? That was a bit too serious.

Anyway, Craig was crouching down now, kneeling between my legs. “Lie back,”

he told me, eyes focused on my groin, and I did, resting back on my elbows so I could watch as he ran smooth hands down my inner thighs. The sensation was halfway to

tickling, but it still got my cock moving, jolting and pulsing in the air as it pumped back up to hardness. Craig ducked his head down, caught the tip between his plump lips as 26
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it wavered, and carefully sucked on it as I resisted the urge to ram it deep into his throat.

He kept up his focus on the head, corkscrewing his lips around the flared edge

while his tongue made broad, flat sweeps across the tip. Meanwhile, his hands

continued to roam across my thighs, squeezing the hard muscle there. I do plenty of running—even when it’s not football season, Coach still has us doing circuits of the field to keep our stamina up—and so my legs are toned and firm, and Craig seemed to be keen to touch as much of them as possible while he nursed on my prick.

Soon I felt his grip shift down to my calves, then to my heels, and then he was

lifting my feet, still with his mouth locked on my erection. He guided my feet up until they were flat on the edge of the bed, my thighs spread and Craig’s face—linked to me by the thick stem of my cock—framed between them. I felt suddenly quite exposed; the memory of Craig’s hands on my ass pushing its way nearer to the front of my thoughts.

“Dude, I’m not letting you…” I started, but Craig pulled himself off my dick with

a pop. He squinted up at my nervous expression.