Jock Auction (26 page)

they rested in his lap. “It’s just that sometimes people see what they expect to see, not what’s really there.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

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“Look, fuck what I told them,” I said finally, feeling that mixture of sadness and anger again. “I could still come to your house, stay with you.”

Craig smiled, but it was sad and brittle. “And do what, convince them you’re

halfway to some queer cult of lying and sinful living that you need to be rescued from?”

He shrugged again. “They need to see you’re the same guy, the same son they know

and they trust, so they can get used to how you’re feeling now.”

I knew he was right, but part of me still felt defiant. Wanted to scream,
Screw you!

at my parents, to wrap myself in what felt good, and safe, and right.

“You should call Jake,” Craig pointed out. “Ask him if it’s okay for you to stay.”

I pulled out my phone slowly, not wanting to give up on the idea of going with

Craig instead, even as I knew it was the wrong idea.

Jake answered after a couple of rings. “Hey, Kyle, my man! What’s up? Couldn’t

get enough of me for one day?”

I clamped my eyes shut. I knew I should play along, but I suddenly felt fragile,

like those tears that I couldn’t let out before were finally ready to gush uncontrollably.

Craig slipped his hand into mine, squeezed my fingers.

“Yeah, something like that, dude,” I replied, aware of how awkward my voice

sounded. “Look, is it okay if I crash at your place tonight? I know it’s short notice and all.”

There was a pause; then Jake sounded a whole lot more serious. “Um, sure, I guess

that’s no problem. Everything okay, buddy?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“Just…just some stuff with my folks,” I settled on in the end.

There was another quiet spell, then, “Look, sure, of course it’s cool. I’ll text you my address, so just come on over.” I could tell he was trying to bury his curiosity, knew he’d probably have questions when I got there.

“Thanks, Jake,” I said, voice quiet. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

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We hung up, and I let the phone drop into my lap. Craig’s fingers were still gently squeezing mine.

“I guess I should…” I wasn’t sure how that ended. Flicked my gaze over to see

Craig’s reaction.

He was biting his lip. “You should probably take me home. I mean, you should

still be resting up, officially. And I think you need some time to…I guess to process stuff.”

“I’m not going to let them stop us from…y’know,” I said, sudden anger in my

voice.

Craig smiled that same brittle smile. “I know, Kyle.”

I pulled his hand up to my lips, kissed where his fingers entwined with my own.

Then I was running my hand down his forearm, feeling his elbow and his small but

solid biceps through the sleeve of his hoodie. I pulled him across until he slid into my lap, the uncertainty on his face mingling with what I knew was flaring lust.

“Kyle, I’m not sure this…” he started, but I wasn’t going to let him finish; I wanted him to be sure in no uncertain terms of how I was feeling for him. Bringing his lips to smash against mine, feeling his tongue slip out and cross against me, and feeling the throb of my cock trapped underneath his lithe body, responding eagerly to the press of him.

Hands holding his, I stretched his arms back, behind him, until his chest jutted

forward against my pecs as we kissed. I let my fingertips graze the curve of his narrow ass through his jeans, knowing he’d be just as hard as I was, just as eager to touch me as I was him.

“We shouldn’t, not here…” Craig tried, but I kneaded his cheeks and his protest

petered out to a low moan. His hands were on my shoulders now, fingertips tracing

lightly on the soft skin on either side of my neck as he ground his hips down into my grasp.

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He didn’t protest when I popped the buttons on his skinnies, nor when I pushed

him back until he was lying against the broad, thin-rimmed steering wheel, and pulled his cock free from his briefs, swollen and jerking in my fist.

Then I had him between my lips, bending forward and trying to suck and lap at as

much of him as I could in our cramped position. Craig was bracing himself, one hand through the grab handle above the door, the other arm outstretched across the vinyl dashboard. He arched his back as I dug the tip of my tongue into him, tasted his

precum.

I plunged one of my hands down the back of his jeans, under his briefs, searching

out his hole as he twitched and groaned from my touch. Buried myself to the first

knuckle in his tightness, felt his cock stiffen a fraction more between my lips. I knew it would be hot and fast and raw, that it had to be, the two of us in daylight and parked by some random house in some random neighborhood, but even so, the first jolt of his climax surprised me, left me spluttering and gulping as he flooded my mouth.

I nursed the last of it out as I eased my finger free, Craig’s breathing still ragged but calming. His thick cock lolled half-hard out of his jeans, glistening with my spit. I ran my fingertip down its length, and he giggled.

“You’re terrible,” he scolded, and I feigned a frown. “No, not at that…but here!

Someone could’ve seen.”

I shrugged, grinned, made an expansive show of wiping my mouth on the back of

my hand. “Couldn’t help it.”

Craig shook his head, tucking himself away and pulling down at his shirt.

“So, where am I taking you…?” I asked. I still wanted him to say he was going

wherever I was going.

He looked over at me. “Home. You’re taking me home, and then you’re going to

Jake’s and you’re going to talk about jock stuff and play games and generally chill out, which is not something you can do if I’m around reminding you of this shit with your parents or getting you all hot and bothered.”

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I arched my eyebrow. “All hot and bothered? Hello, Mr. Ego.”

Craig smiled. “You’re the one who just got his snack without going through the

drive-through first.”

We laughed at that, and it felt great, just natural and uncaring, and I knew that

Craig was right and that I needed to put all this sexuality and sex stuff to one side, as much as I could anyway, for an evening at least. If not to get things straight in my head, then just to give me time to distract myself.

When I pulled up outside his house, he stopped with one leg out of the car. Put his hand on my thigh.

“It’ll be okay, Kyle,” he told me, voice serious all of a sudden. “They love you;

they just need to get used to it.” I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak. He kissed me lightly on the lips. “Call me later, okay?”

I watched as he walked down the path and then, with a little wave, slipped in

through the door.

* * * *

wondering how my life had gone from mainstream to messed up in the space of what

seemed like just a few days. Had I made myself homeless? That felt like an extreme interpretation, but then neither of my parents had been in anything like a hurry to stop me from walking out, hadn’t even moved a muscle as I left.

I wasn’t sure where that left them, left us. As a family, I mean. I’d grown used to feeling somewhat distant from them both but had just assumed that was an inevitable part of all of us getting older. They’d obviously had expectations for how I’d turn out, and now those expectations were getting challenged, and my brain wasn’t up to

figuring out how to explain something to them that I still didn’t really understand myself.

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Eventually I got out, grabbed my bag from the backseat, and rang Jake’s doorbell.

If I couldn’t figure out my family, at least I could hang out with a friend and try to forget about all the weirdness.

When the door opened, I did a double take. The guy behind it was like Jake,

clearly, very nearly the same person I knew from school and from the team, but at the same time he obviously wasn’t that person. Slightly broader shoulders, maybe, or

generally a little stockier. Plus of course the fact that he was looking at me as if I was a total stranger.

“Um, hi,” I ventured, suddenly tongue-tied. He frowned at me.

“Kyle?”

I nodded, and his frown turned into a grin. “Cool, Jake told me you were coming

over. I’m Jackson, his brother. Guess the whole twin thing got you mixed up for a

minute there, right?”

Jackson. Of course. I hitched my bag up my shoulder a little more and reached out

to shake his hand. It was big and a little rough and his grip tight. I suddenly

remembered Jake talking about how his twin was a wrestler, and of course that led to unprompted mental images of him in a singlet. I fought the urge to shake my head and scatter my imagination.

“Come in, anyway.” Jackson stood to one side as I stepped past him, then closed

the door behind me. “Jake’s still got class, but I’m home all afternoon, so he knew I could let you in. Trouble with your folks, right?”

I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was talking all that over with him, even with the

knowledge that he was gay. Just broaching it with Craig had been tough.

“Has been a shitty day,” I hedged, keeping purposefully vague. He nodded,

squinting at me thoughtfully.

“I hear you. Had a few of those myself. You want a drink?”

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Sitting in their expansive rec room with a cold soda and some mindless DVD on,

twenty minutes later, I was beginning to feel a little more human. Jackson had turned out to be a surprisingly good host, astute enough to figure out that I didn’t want to talk about anything too serious, but at the same time that I needed “normal” company.

As a result, we’d talked about mundane stuff while the TV played, like our

different high schools and his growing up as one half of twins. Both athletic, though in notably different sports—Jake always part of a greater team, Jackson preferring self-reliance—and for a while I regaled him with some of his brother’s more entertaining moments on the field.

“So you’re dating a guy at your school?” he asked suddenly. I nodded, feeling a

little tongue-tied.

“Only just started,” I told him. “Was all pretty unexpected.”

Jackson raised his eyebrow wryly. “Yeah, I know how that one goes.”

I rolled the near-empty can between my palms. “Did you have any issues? I mean,

with people you knew.”

He shook his head, then paused. “Well, I got some shit right at the beginning.

When people thought it was still a big joke.” He took a gulp from his drink. “And there were a couple of people who thought it was out of line that I was wrestling other guys.”

I tried—and probably failed—to hide a smirk. Jackson grinned at me.

“I told them, it’s pretty easy to tell if I’m getting any unsportsmanlike feelings when I’m in a match. Damn obvious in fact.”

A boner in a singlet. I couldn’t help but picture Jackson hard and wearing nothing but a stretchy one-piece, cock straining at the elastic. The sweatpants he had on now didn’t give away much, though the tight wife-beater showed off the size of his arms and the muscles of his chest.

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“Anyway, that never happened, and after a while people just got on with it,” he

finished with a shrug. “In my experience, people think that they have a problem, but after a while they just get used to it.”

Is that how it would go with my mom and dad? They’d just one day be okay with

it, any bad feelings simply eroded away? It felt artificial, somehow, like acceptance by accident.

“Jake said you and your, um, boyfriend broke up,” I ventured, suddenly eager to

change the subject. Jackson nodded, grimaced.

“Yeah, couple of weeks ago maybe.” He rolled his eyes. “We just wanted different

stuff, y’know?”

I nodded back at him, though I wasn’t really sure what he meant. Was that the

guy Jake had said liked to dress his twin up? That didn’t feel like something I could really ask.

“I wanted something serious; he wanted a jock to boast about to his friends,”

Jackson explained. He shrugged. “I mean, the sex was good, but I wanted more, and

he…well, he was in a different place, I guess.”

I thought about Craig and me in the car just an hour or so ago. Were we only

about sex? Was I deluding myself, or were we deluding each other that we had

something more in common than a libido?

“What did you want?” I asked Jackson.

“Oh, man, I guess I wanted someone I could hold a conversation with, or go out

with, or just watch a movie with.”

That did sound good. With Craig, I mean. Not that the sex was bad, not in the

least, but I was liking just being with him too.

“So he was only keeping you around for your body?” I asked him with a smirk.

He laughed at that.

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“Pretty much, yeah! I don’t want to sound bigheaded about it, but I spend a lot of time keeping fit, and it can attract the sort of person who doesn’t want anything too deep.” I fought the urge to look down to where his abs were pushing against the cotton of his shirt. “Guess it should’ve rung warning bells when he wanted me to wear my

wrestling gear for him.”

I felt kinda bad then for imagining him in it too, but at least I wasn’t asking him to put it on, I thought.

“Must be tough, the wrestling, I mean,” I told him. Jackson nodded.

“Yeah, you have to be pretty dedicated. I guess like you and football. Can’t slack off and expect to do well.” I nodded at that. “I mean, I can show you if you like, I’ve got some tournament recordings around here somewhere.”