Jock Auction (19 page)

dick but that this took the fucking medal for dick behavior.

My racing pulse was starting to ease back to normal as the guy between us turned

and I realized it was Paul, one of the linebackers. Someone I knew well enough to chat with, just in passing, but not someone I’d automatically consider a friend.

“Kyle, you okay, dude?” He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed a little. I

glanced up, trying to lever myself back to standing using my elbow against the metal at my back.

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“I’m okay,” I spluttered, voice cracking as my throat complained. I coughed and

rubbed at my eyes with my knuckles. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, dude.”

Paul shook his head, nodded back to indicate Jeff. “No need, dude. That fuckup

went too far this time.”

I chuckled humorlessly in reply.

Paul nodded. “Yeah, I guess you already figured that.” He took his hand away as I

stood up, testing my legs.

“So, you guys…” I started, uncertain whether I needed to still be on my guard. Jeff was still seething but seemed to have given up struggling against his teammates

gripping him, instead watching intently as Paul and I talked.

Paul frowned, just briefly. “The rest of us guys have no problem with you, Kyle.”

He looked back over his shoulder. A ragged chorus of “sure” and “nah,” punctuated by Jeff spitting loudly on the floor. I glanced down and saw blood among the mess, could only guess that he’d bitten his tongue while pitching a fit at me.

“Hey, I’ve got a gay brother. You sure you have a boyfriend, dude?” someone

called out. Laughs at that one, from me too as I felt the tension ebb, even though the adrenaline was still making me twitchy.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” I grinned, and Paul clapped me on the shoulder again, more

in camaraderie this time.

“My uncle’s probably too old for you,” he told me, “but I know he’d be

megapissed if he knew I’d stood around and watched someone get bashed just like he used to get when he was in school.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a little ashamed that, just as Jeff had been judging from his black-and-white preconceptions about gays, I’d probably thought of the people on the team and their own degrees of open-mindedness with just the same sort of

blinkered stereotyping.

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“I appreciate it,” I told him. Raised my voice a little, and then said, “All of you guys.”

The moment was interrupted by calls of “coming through, make some room here”

as the small crowd parted and the vice principal bustled through, Coach following in his wake. I saw a worried-looking girl pointing in our direction and could only assume that someone had called in the cavalry when Jeff had gone crazy.

“So can someone explain to me why I had to be pulled out of a meeting to break

up a fight between members of the football team?” The vice principal didn’t look

happy, but Coach’s expression was the portrait of pissed. I gulped.

“Jeff went nuts on Kyle, sir,” Paul told him. “We had to stop him.”

Jeff snorted. “He’s a fuckin’ fag! He’s been watching us in the showers, jerkin’ off over us.”

The vice principal’s nose wrinkled in distaste at what I could only hope was Jeff’s choice of words rather than the fact that a student could be gay. “That’s no excuse for your behav—”

Jeff wasn’t going to shut up, though. “Jeez, Coach, come on—he’s a fuckin’

queer!”

I’d seen Coach angry, like when we’d missed easy passes or done something

dumb that had cost us a point. I’d seen him furious when someone on the team gave a goofy excuse for having to miss practice. I’d even seen him apoplectic after a

particularly rough play had left someone on the opposite team with a broken ankle.

But I’d never seem him as angry as he was right now, at Jeff. He reeled around so

fast I thought Jeff’s flinch would’ve knocked him back out of the gripping hands on his arms and around his shoulders and onto his ass on the floor behind him.

“You do not use that sort of language in this school!” he bellowed, eyes bulging.

The color rapidly drained from Jeff’s face. “We have zero tolerance for hate speech, and you know it. I’ve had enough of your bullshit!”

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The vice principal adjusted his tie self-consciously, briefly put a calming hand on Coach’s arm. I could see Coach chewing back more reaction.

“But—” Jeff started, voice a whole lot smaller now.

“I think we’ve heard enough. You, my office, now,” the vice principal said.

I watched as Jeff followed him down the corridor, a look not so much of defeat on

his face as one of absolute surprise and disbelief that someone might not have agreed with him. Coach turned to me.

“Kyle, are you all right?”

I swallowed. My throat still felt sore and kinda crunchy, but my pulse was coming

back to normal.

“Sure, Coach,” I told him. He nodded, glanced around at the crowd that had

formed near us.

“Maybe you should go see the nurse?” He put a hand on my shoulder, slightly

awkwardly.

“Look, Coach, about what Jeff was saying…” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.

He shook his head. “Play hard, score points, don’t screw up. That’s all I ask, Kyle.

That’s all you have to do to make me proud of you—it’s all any of you guys have to do.” He looked around at the others on the team. “Paul, maybe you could give Kyle a hand getting to the nurse’s office.”

I didn’t need help, not really, but Paul walked me to the nurse’s room anyway.

When we got there, he turned to look at me. There was just the two of us in the corridor.

“If you ever need to talk, dude, just tell me, okay?” I nodded, not quite knowing

what to say. “I mean, I know I’m not gay, but I don’t mind talking about that stuff.”

He stared at me, then suddenly grabbed hold of my shoulders and pulled me into

a hug. So fast I didn’t have time to worry whether I should hug back or what. Then he was walking back off down the corridor as the nurse opened the door.

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I felt pretty dumb sitting there for an hour or two, basically kicking my heels, but the nurse refused to let me leave until she’d made sure I wasn’t about to keel over or something. Well, that is unless I wanted one of my parents to come pick me up, but I really didn’t relish the thought of having to explain to my folks how I came to blows with Jeff.

It wasn’t that I thought they were homophobic. They’d never given me any cause

to think that. It was more that, well, I guess there’s a pretty big difference between being okay with gay people in general and being okay with your son being gay. And

though I was reasonably sure that they’d be able to handle that too, I wasn’t sure I could cope with the embarrassment involved.

So I stuck around and waited it out, with the only distraction being a call that was presumably from the vice principal checking up on me and a younger kid who turned

up feeling sick and who made the room stink of puke for a while after, until the nurse opened the window and his parents came to take him home. I was getting fed up with checking Facebook—nothing new, since everybody was in class without me—and I

didn’t want to text Craig as I knew it would just freak him out.

I guess I didn’t count on the efficiency of the school gossip machine, though.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, a door that immediately flew open to admit my frantic-looking boyfriend, face ivory white, eyes huge, an expression somewhere between desperate and terrified. He took in the room with a glance and then launched himself at me, wrapping his arms tightly around my neck and pressing his lips to mine.

“Oh… Oh my God, oh my G-God,” he stammered, rapid-fire speech between

kisses. “What did he do to you? I’m sorry. Oh God, Kyle, what did he do?”

I tried to pull back enough to speak, but he clung to me, and I could feel his chest heaving with sobs as he stuttered fears and horrors into my neck, the awful suspicion that Jeff had killed me, the overwhelming horror at having found me and then maybe lost me. Each word punctuated with kisses as I let him nestle between my thighs while I sat on the examination table and held him.

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“Ahem.” The nurse cleared her throat, and I looked up, suddenly remembering

we weren’t alone in the room. Craig sniffed and glanced back over his shoulder,

smudging bleary eyes on his sleeve.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, knowing I must be blushing as I said it. She shook her head,

world-weary.

“If I step out to take this report to the office, can I trust you two alone in here?” I felt Craig’s arms tighten around my chest.

“Of course, ma’am, you can trust us,” I told her.

She smiled, just a little. “Okay, but I’ll be back soon, and I really don’t need any more surprises after that whirling dervish.”

As she closed the door, I pulled Craig up next to me onto the table. He laid his

head on my shoulder, clasped my hands in his in my lap as I explained what had

happened. Supposedly someone had sent him a message with a third- or fourth-hand

account of the bust-up between the jocks and how one was now moments from death as a result. He’d almost broken bones trying to get to school in time before he had to watch me be taken out in a body bag.

“And how did you know it was me?” I asked him, unable to resist a grin. He

punched me in the arm and I pretended it hurt.

“Dumbass, who else was it going to be?” Craig shook his head. “Nobody else is so

much of an idiot to call Jeff a cunt in front of half the school.”

I shrugged at that, but maybe he had a point.

“Oh, man, I left the house so fast, I was so scared,” Craig admitted.

I chuckled. “At least you remembered to put your jeans on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but not much else.”

“Oh, really?” He rolled his eyes as I hooked a fingertip into the waistband of his jeans. “So what’s going on underneath?”

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He slapped at my hand, then quickly tugged down at the front of his jeans until I

could see the close crop of his pubes. Nope, no underwear there.

“Do you have to stay here?” he asked me. Was there a huskier edge to his tone

now? I felt myself twitch in my jeans.

“Nurse says yes,” I told him, “unless I want to explain everything to my parents.”

He grimaced at that.

“Well, okay… How long do you think she’ll be gone?” There was definitely a

wicked twinkle in his eye now. His hand crept up my thigh, squeezing at the muscle there.

“Why do you ask?” I feigned innocence. Craig’s hand found my junk, his fingers

closing around the bulge on my groin.

“Because I want you to bend me over and put your cock in me,” he whispered. “I

want my boyfriend to fuck me.”

I groaned as his deft fingers found the head of my rapidly hardening prick and

traced the outline through the clinging denim. I wasn’t sure when Craig had gotten so forthright, but the thought of my tugging his skinny jeans down to midthigh and letting the slick tip of my cock grind its way into his clinging tightness was sending shudders down my spine.

“And what if I decided I wanted you to suck me off instead?” I asked him. He ran

his palm against the curve of my shaft, trapped uncomfortably under layers of fabric.

“Then I guess you’d just have to put me on my knees and fuck my throat,

wouldn’t you?” He pushed his hair back with his free hand, licked his lips. “Make me choke on that big jock dick until you creamed all over my face and made me eat it up.”

I laughed, but it caught in my throat some. “You’re a dirty little fuck, aren’t you?”

I told him; the familiar flush of red slashed across his cheekbones, but he didn’t break eye contact with me.

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“You’re gonna pound my ass and then you’re gonna come in me, and then I’m

gonna finger myself while you watch me jerk off. You get me so hot and so slutty. I wanna suck you in the showers after you practice, or bend over the hood of your car and just let you have me.”

I was starting to feel light-headed. Craig was usually so quiet, so shy; this vocal, sex-charged teen was new to me, but it was amping me up in ways I hadn’t felt before.

True, I’d been dominant with him in the past, but somehow this aggression from him—

even if it was aggressively subservient—was proving to be a major turn-on.

“When did you get so demanding, eh?”

He grinned at me. “You just came out, Kyle. You just told people that you’re my

boyfriend. Now I’m going to make sure you get all the boyfriend dues.”

He put his hand on my cheek, the tender gesture almost incongruent with his

overarousal. I leaned into him.

“It didn’t feel wrong…to say it, I mean.” Craig looked at me. “I thought it might

feel weird to say ‘boyfriend’ before, but it didn’t.”

I put my hand on his knee, and he covered it with his own and squeezed, gently.

Then he slowly and deliberately dragged my hand up his thigh until my fingers were wrapped around the obvious bulge of his erection. I could feel the heat radiating

through the denim.

“And how does this feel?” he asked me, eyes hooded with lust. I reached up and

let my fingertip trail between his lips, felt his tongue hook around it.

“It feels right too.”

He nodded, letting a little more of my finger slip between his lips and using his

hand to squeeze my own grip on his crotch. Then he was lifting his leg over mine until he was straddling me, slipping my hand around to cup the hard curve of his ass as he ground himself against my hardness.

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Craig’s arm hooked around my neck, and I let my finger slip out and my tongue

take its place. With one hand I tugged at the button fly of his jeans until I’d loosened them just enough that I could slip my fingers down, let the spit-slicked tip ease between his cheeks until it grazed against him.