Jock Auction (29 page)

I glanced at him, sideways, with a half grin. “You think my ass is perfect?”

“Shut up, Kyle. Stop fishing for compliments.”

I tried to look innocent but probably failed. At least the tension of a moment

before was gone.

“So go on, how exactly do you know about Jackson’s magic disappearing singlet?”

he asked me, eventually. “Don’t tell me Jake and I nearly walked in on a fashion show.”

I laughed at the thought of it. “He showed me some videos of him wrestling. Man,

he must be strong. Anyway, he said his old boyfriend made him get in the shower with it on, and the white panels down the side went transparent.”

Craig nodded, thoughtfully. It didn’t feel quite right to criticize him for potentially imagining Jackson when I’d spent quite a few moments tonight doing exactly the same.

Looking—or mentally picturing—but without touching seemed safe enough.

“When I got home, I had to jerk off at how hot it was, you blowing me in the car,”

he confessed. “Even though I’d just…”

I felt myself stiffen at the thought of it. Craig rushing up to his room, slamming the door. Maybe sliding down to the floor with his back to it, yanking at his jeans and 206
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then frantically tugging at his cock, eyes tightly closed as he mentally pictured my mouth stretched around his shaft, gulping him down.

Craig’s hand closed around my dick through the soft fabric of my shorts. “Did

you?” he asked, a little coyly.

I shook my head. “Had a shower, but it didn’t feel right in someone else’s place.”

He nodded, eyes looking a little glazed as he coaxed me to full hardness in my

boxer briefs. “Seems a shame, though…”

I chuckled at that; for someone so tightly controlled most of the time, Craig was

pretty transparent when he was horny.

“What are you asking, Craig?” I teased.

He swallowed, licked his lips. “If I promise to be superquiet, will you fuck me?”

My erection gave a jolt, maybe all the answer Craig really needed. He slipped

down to kneel between my thighs, pulled on my shorts until they were coaxed down to around my ankles.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructed as he ran his hands along my thickness

through the thin cotton. I peeled off the T-shirt, watched as he carefully eased down my boxers.

A small bubble oozed out of the tip of my cock, began to slowly slide down the

side. Craig leaned in and ran his tongue along me, one hand gently gripping my balls. I felt my legs spread automatically, as he reached the head and then let his lips close around it, starting up a soft, swirling movement that matched his other hand milking the base of my shaft.

“Fuck, you suck dick so well,” I told him, voice low and husky, enjoying the

feelings radiating out from my groin. “Take off your jeans while you blow me.”

His hands disappeared, followed by the unmistakable sound of rustling as he

fumbled at the buttons. I let my fingers trail through his hair, my thumb brushing the sharpness of his cheekbone.

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“Stand up,” I ordered, hearing him whine around my cock in disappointment.

Still, he stood up all the same, lips red and puffy. I tugged down his skinnies, helped him out of them, and then told him to take off his shirt.

He was so…different, so very different from me. And from Jake, and Jackson, and

to Louis. We were all big—okay, so Jackson was bigger than me, and his brother too—

whether it was intentional or just a side effect of the sports we did, our shoulders relatively wide, visible muscles, narrow waists.

Whereas Craig, well, he was so thin in comparison. Skinny, you’d probably say, if

you glanced at him in the street. Though not all skin and bones; his shoulders were narrow, yes, but his chest was firm, not skeletal, and while he didn’t have the defined abs that some guys on the team—and yes, okay, me—have, his stomach was flat and

smooth.

He looked right. That was the only way I could put it. Yes, he was slim, but he was in proportion: a different type of body, not a lesser one. And the sight of it made me drool.

My cock was certainly eager, the head slippery with Craig’s spit and more. I

grabbed it by the root, wagged it at him.

“You want this?” He nodded, eyes hungry. “Turn around.”

He spun on the spot, glancing over his shoulder to watch me. His ass was narrow,

compact, and I reached out and felt it fill my palms, kneading the firm flesh.

“Bend over,” I told him, watching as he braced himself on his knees, and then

used my thumbs to spread his cheeks and expose him.

Fuck. Fuck. The urge to just drive my cock in there was incredible, but I knew

that—while Craig might have me beat on length—I’d still hurt him if I tried, no matter how horny he was and how slick he’d left me. Instead, I leaned forward and let my

tongue rasp up against him, feeling him twitch and shudder.

“Oh, God, Kyle…” he wheezed, but I didn’t stop, didn’t wait for him to finish

talking. Just let the wet flat of my tongue grind across him, occasionally pawed at him 208
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with my thumbs, then dug the tip into his hotness, feeling all the time his muscles yield and soften.

Soon he was reaching back, holding his cheeks wide as I feasted on him eagerly,

alternating between my tongue and sliding one, then two fingers inside him. Gripped his bobbing shaft as it lurched between his legs and let the roughness of my palm graze across the sensitive tip until he bucked and whimpered.

“Turn around and ride me,” I instructed him eventually. Craig quickly knelt up on

the bed, legs straddling my own. I watched as he leaned down and guided the head

between his cheeks.

I felt the wet kiss as our flesh came together, the moment of resistance, and then, with a hiss of air from his lungs, the tight grip as I eased inside him. I expected Craig to pause, to wait, but he didn’t: he just let his hips drop as every last inch of me was buried deep.

He pushed me back, flat on the blankets, his hands on my chest as he levered

himself up and then impaled himself again. The familiar red slash of his flush across his face was mesmerizing. I reached up and let my fingers trace his neck, the jut of his collarbones. Craig’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open. I hooked my thumb

around his bottom lip, felt him suck on it as he rode me.

The click was loud enough to distract me, though Craig kept moving, kept

pushing up with his thighs and his hands braced against me, his cock slapping

rhythmically against my abs. I turned my head to see the bathroom door ajar, someone standing there looking in.

A glimpse of familiar features, a shocked expression. Were those towels cradled in one arm, the other hand still on the doorknob? I knew it was one of the twins, but I couldn’t tell in the dim light whether it was Jackson or Jake.

I should’ve stopped Craig, tried to cover us up, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t

escape the feeling of my boyfriend clamping down on me with his muscles and the

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shock of being watched so unexpectedly. After a long moment, our gazes locked, but confused, he shut the door gently, never saying a word.

Craig leaned down, pressed his lips to mine. I gripped his waist, brought my

knees up so that he was cradled in my lap, my hips pounding against him. His cock was trapped between our bodies, wet and swollen, rubbed by our flesh. I pictured Jake, or Jackson, watching as I plowed into Craig’s hole, raw and brazen. Wondered what he’d thought as he caught us, his gaze lingering just a beat too long to be written off as only shocked horror.

And then my capacity for thinking clearly was gone, replaced by the rush of blood

as Craig’s riding and my eager thrusts tipped me over the edge, bursting into him just as his own excitement overcame him and filled the space between us.

I let my strokes slow to nothing, Craig’s body wrapped tightly around and within

mine. He ran his lips across my nose, my cheeks. Hands traced down my arms and

found my own, fingers twining with mine as I lay outstretched beneath him.

For those moments, I’d forgotten my parents, forgotten Jeff, forgotten that my life had been turned upside down and left near floundering in uncertainty. But the question lingering was, how would I face the twins at breakfast the next morning?

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Chapter Twelve

I’d debated telling Craig as we lay there side by side, his hand clasped loosely in mine. I didn’t, though. Wasn’t sure how I could say,
We were just watched having sex, and
I’m not sure by who
, in a way that wouldn’t make him freak out.

Instead, I watched as he slipped off me and went to the bathroom, returning to

find me under the covers and waiting for him. His body looked lean and smooth in the dim glow of the lamp on the nightstand, and I’d felt my breath catch momentarily in my throat at the sight of him.

He was beautiful. Boyish and masculine and…beautiful.

After the day I’d had, I’d expect sleep to be slow in coming, but it could only have been minutes before I had dropped off. I didn’t even remember turning off the light, but Craig must have as it wasn’t on when I woke up, finding him still asleep next to me.

* * * *

at the breakfast bar to drink it. My parents were very early risers, so I wasn’t especially used to having the place to myself when I got up. It somehow felt both liberatingly freeing and disconcertingly empty. No background murmur of their talking in the other room.

Would they be talking about me this morning across town? Discussing their son’s

perverse lifestyle over their coffee and cereal?

I felt the bile rising in my throat, swallowed hard. Physically shook my head to

clear it, the orange juice suddenly tasting sour on my tongue. I wasn’t ready to think about all that yet.

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And yes, maybe there were more pressing questions, like who had been our

inadvertent audience the night before. I tried to replay what I’d seen in my mind’s eye, hearing the click of the bathroom door; was my memory adding in a slight gasp of

shock, or had that really happened? The light had been so low, the door’s opening so scant, I couldn’t tell who it was. Even if Jake and Jackson weren’t so physically similar, I’m not sure I’d have been able to identify someone there.

Still, I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough.

I was trying to figure out the coffee machine when I heard footsteps behind me.

Even though I knew someone else was in the room, I still turned with a little exhalation of surprise.

Barefoot and in shorts, Jake was messing at his closely-cropped hair, blinking at

me somewhat bleary-eyed. His other hand scratched absentmindedly at his stomach,

pushing up the soft cotton T-shirt he was wearing. I tried to smile.

“Sorry, I should’ve knocked,” he said. I felt my eyes widen. Had it been…?

“Just now, I mean. I wasn’t trying to startle you.”

I relaxed. So was it Jackson who had caught us? Or was Jake simply trying to

pretend that the whole thing hadn’t happened? Or was I thinking too much either way?

Jake clearly took my silence as precaffeine sluggishness, stepped over and took the bag of coffee from my hand.

“Sit down. I’ll do it. Guess you’re not a morning person, eh?” I shook my head,

grinned bashfully. Jake laughed. “Maybe it’s a gay thing. Jackson hates getting up too.”

Even after everything that had happened, I still felt a little jolt of discomfort when he said “gay.” I guess I wasn’t used to identifying that way—wasn’t even sure that I was gay anyway. The pace of the past few days hadn’t really given me time to think too much about labels.

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Soon the puttering of the machine was filling the kitchen with the trickle of coffee, the scent alone helping wake me. Jake pulled mugs from a cupboard, then started

peeling a banana. I watched as he bit off the top few inches, chewed expansively.

“Hungry?” I laughed.

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a growing boy.” He flexed his other arm, the

bicep pushing at his sleeve.

I rolled my eyes. “So I can see.”

Jake smirked evilly at me. “Oh, I’m sorry, is my eating not refined enough for

you?” He turned his head, let the ragged end of the banana slip between his lips, and did what I could only assume he thought was a seductive show of pushing it into his mouth.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that. “Okay, okay!” I told him, holding up

my hands in defeat. “You win; eat it how you like! Just don’t ever do that again, all right?”

He gave me a shit-eating grin, made an extravagant show of biting off another few

inches of the fruit. I winced.

“Jeez, a guy can’t get a few extra hours in bed around here, can he?” I heard from behind me; I turned to see Jackson wandering into the kitchen looking even more

blurry-eyed than Jake had. “I could hear you all the way over from the next block.”

I tried to look contrite, failed, and then shrugged and tipped my head at his

brother. “Blame Jake and his crappy blowjob skills.” Jake and I cracked up again at the look of confusion on Jackson’s face.

“Man, I need coffee if I’m going to deal with you two,” he said eventually,

sloshing it into a mug and then adding a slug of cream. I glanced down as he drank; like Jake he was barefoot but wearing boxers and a ragged-looking wifebeater. His thighs were impressively broad.

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When I dragged my eyes away, I realized Jake had been watching me, an

entertained look on his face. I shrugged, and he shook his head as if to say,
Typical guy.

“Jake, you going to make some of those awesome eggs you do so well?” Jackson