by E. Walsh
Rick paused. He did say he wanted to talk and he had rehearsed a few lines earlier to get the conversation going. He couldn’t seem to remember any of them now, though and he didn’t know where to start.
Puck remained silent, clasping his hands on his lap as he waited for him to speak.
Say something, Rick. Come on.
“Were you serious when you…when you said you liked me?” Rick asked nervously.
“Did I look like I was joking?”
No, he didn’t.
“It doesn’t matter, though,” Puck said. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Why?” Rick suddenly felt worried. “Because it’s no longer true?”
“Because you’re not gay. Are you?”
Rick nodded slowly. “I am.”
Puck nodded as well. For a moment, they were both silent then Puck spoke.
“No wonder we both don’t like women much.”
Rick said nothing, looking at his feet.
Puck tapped his fingers on one arm of the chair. “Are you sure you came here to talk?”
Rick looked at Puck, feeling a lump form in his throat as he looked at Puck’s thin lips then at that patch of skin on his neck exposed by his unbuttoned collar. And a second lump was forming elsewhere.
Rick swallowed before bravely saying his thoughts out loud. “No. I came here to fuck.”
In a few strides, he crossed over to where Puck was sitting, capturing those thin lips in a fierce kiss.
At once, Puck kissed him back, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling Rick onto his lap.
Clearly, he was the dominant one and that knowledge made Rick shiver with delight, his hard cock quivering in his boxers.
As their tongues did battle, Puck’s winning most of the time, Puck moved his hands to Rick’s back, fingers crawling down his spine until they reached the waistband of his pants.
Then Puck cupped Rick’s buttocks, pulling him closer so that their groins were touching, grinding against each other.
Rick placed his hands behind Puck’s neck, moaning at the sweet friction. It wasn’t enough, though, layers of fabric in the way.
Puck must have felt the same because he suddenly pushed him away, throwing him to the ground before going on top of him.
They rolled on the carpet, kissing, touching, wrestling undressing each other and when all the clothes had been discarded, Puck knelt above Rick, his proudly erect cock in his hand.
Rick didn’t have to be told what to do. He licked. He sucked. He swallowed, his hand caressing Puck’s artificial leg as he did and the patch of skin directly above it. Above him, Puck gasped and moaned, trembling.
He was at Rick’s mercy now.
But not for long. All too soon, he pulled away, fetching something from the drawer of the bedside table.
Lube.
As Puck coated his fingers with the sticky substance, Rick lay on the bed, stroking his cock between spread legs.
The pleasure was too great he closed his eyes and threw his head back against the pillows only to open them when Puck circled his hole.
He stopped stroking himself as Puck slipped a cool finger in then another, the two digits stretching him.
He continued stroking himself to distract from the discomfort only to stop again when the fingers reached in deeply, pressing against the sensitive mound of flesh hidden inside.
Rick trembled, gasping, more curses spilling from his lips as Puck mercilessly teased his prostate.
He couldn’t even stroke himself anymore, his body numbed with pleasure.
Just from that exquisite stimulation, he almost came but Puck managed to stop just in time.
He withdrew his fingers so he could lube his cock then gestured for Rick to turn over, kneeling behind him.
Still weak, Rick’s arms and knees trembled and as soon as Puck was completely inside him, he collapsed forward, burying his face in a pillow and clutching the sheets.
He remained that way as Puck pounded into him, gripping his hips.
When Puck grabbed his cock, stroking it, Rick couldn’t hold back any longer.
He came with a muffled cry, his whole body shaking before becoming taut, his cum gushing out.
Puck gripped his hips again, his hands the only thing holding Rick’s exhausted body in place.
After a few thrusts, he came as well, spilling his seed deep inside Rick before falling on top of him.
For a while, they lay still, Puck on top of Rick. Then Puck pulled out, heading to the bathroom to clean up.
Rick reached for the box of tissues on top of the bedside table as well, stopping when he saw something inside the still open drawer.
A white envelope with a name that stole Rick’s breath before he even had the chance to catch it completely.
Parker Ross.
Curious, Rick took out the envelope. It was already open so he looked inside, his chest feeling tight as he saw an invitation inside.
The invitation to their 20th Anniversary High School Reunion.
“Shit.”
“I think I’ll have that food now,” Puck said as he came out of the bathroom. “What would you…?”
He paused as he saw Rick with the envelope.
“You’re Parker Ross?” Rick asked in disbelief.
Puck’s expression mirrored Rick’s puzzled one. “Yes. Why?”
“Holy shit.”
“What?” Puck looked even more confused.
“I’m Rick Thomas.”
“Rick Thomas?” Puck didn’t seem to recognize the name.
Of course, not. Puck probably didn’t know his name. All he knew were those filthy nicknames his teammates called him.
“You and your gang used to beat me up in high school,” Rick said, rubbing the scar across his nose. It was suddenly burning like fire. “I was the fat kid you used as a punching bag your entire senior year.”
Puck gaped. “That was you? But you…Wow. You’ve… changed...”
“So have you.”
Puck sat on the bed with tears in his eyes. “Jesus, man, I’m so sorry. You must hate me.”
“No, though I suppose I should,” Rick answered quickly, surprising even himself.
He had thought that if he saw Parker again, he would return the beatings in full force.
How could he after he had just had amazing sex with the man?
“For what it’s worth, I had my reasons,” Puck said, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I was a fool then. I was hiding the fact that I was gay. I thought being a macho asshole would help me hide the truth. Maybe that’s why God punished me and took away my leg.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rick said, sitting on the bed next to him. “We were all fools when we were young. I can understand why you did things you did. You’ve changed, that’s all that matters. I still feel the same way about you that I did then.”
“What?” Puck raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Have you always had a crush on me?”
Rick blushed. “Yes, and I still do.”
Puck put a hand on Rick’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. “Do you want to go downstairs? The reunion starts soon.”
Rick leaned in and brushed his lips across Puck’s. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather continue our private reunion right here.”
Puck closed his eyes as Rick’s hand started moving up his leg. He was naked beneath the bath towel.
His cock was already stiffening, anticipating Rick’s touch.
* * *
Epilogue
As the rest of the class partied downstairs, Rick and Puck – Parker – spent the night getting reacquainted upstairs.
Later, as Rick fell asleep in Parker’s arms, Hannah’s words rang in this ears.
“What do you have to lose?” she had asked.
“Nothing,” Rick whispered. “Nothing at all.”
The End
22. First String
By: Steamy Reads
First String
© SteamyReadsPubl
ishing, 2016 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads4U
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
* * *
Chapter One
Swish!
The ball hit nothing but net then bounced past the baseline, the thud of the rubber against the hardwood ricocheting across the court.
Jonah chased after it, the squeaking of his almost worn-out shoes adding to the noise. In a few minutes, the court would be filled with the sound of more squeaky shoes and more bouncing balls, and sharp whistles and chatter, too. Right now, though, he was all alone, using his spare time to become better at what he loved best.
He had always loved basketball. When he was five, he had asked his parents for a plastic basketball and a hoop that he could hang on the living room wall so that he could play.
They didn’t have money, though, so his father simply made a makeshift hoop out of some wires and electric tape. As for the ball, he used rolled up pieces of newspaper. He didn’t care that it wasn’t the real thing. He loved how he could never tell for sure if the ball would make it through the hoop until it did and each time it did, he felt a thrill unlike any other.
Even now, Jonah felt an indescribable rush as he aimed for the hoop, releasing the ball from the corner beyond the three-point line. The ball hit the backboard, circled the rim a few times, then dropped through the net. As soon as it did, Jonah pumped his fists triumphantly.
He hadn’t always been this good. When he first started playing, he couldn’t dribble the ball for more than ten seconds without losing control of it. Until high school, he couldn’t even consistently make a foul shot. It was only during his second year in high school that all his hard work started to pay off. Something just seemed to click and he went from being a just OK player, to one with true potential.
He became a starter, then a star. In his final year of high school, he was the team captain and led them to a second-place finish in the East Coast finals, the team’s best finish on record.
It was mostly because of this accomplishment that he was now playing college ball on a full sports scholarship. If it wasn’t for the scholarship his basketball dreams would have ended after high school. He’d be back home working with his dad, depressed as hell that he’d probably never step on a court to play a real game again.
His folks had never been financially secure; quite the opposite, in fact. Life had always been a struggle for the family of six. His dad worked as a handy man and his mom was an elementary school teacher. The family had always struggled to make ends meet and all the kids had to pitch in to help pay the bills. He had no idea how many cars he’d washed and how many yards he’d cut over the years, with all of the money earned going into the family fund.
He considered himself bless to have the opportunity to play college ball and get a good education. He hoped those blessings might continue and take him to the NBA some day.
Jonah had thought he’d immediately be a star on his college team, but he was wrong. College was a whole new ball game and he was back to square one, back on the bench. His first year he’d only played about fifty minutes in total for the entire season.
He was frustrated. Still, he told himself he would be patient and wait for an opportunity to show his skills and prove his worth. That opportunity might well come this year, since the team had a new coach, the top players had graduated, and last year’s top rookie got injured over summer break.
In short, no one was standing in his way. The limelight was his for the taking.
“Hey, West!” a voice suddenly called from the other side of the court, jolting him out of his reverie.
Jonah stopped dribbling and turned his head, smiling at the guy who was likely going to be the new team captain, Duncan Brown.
“You’re late.” Jonah threw the ball at him.
Duncan caught it. “Nah. You’re just early as usual.”
“Well, you can never have too much practice,” he said, then furrowed his eyebrows as he looked around. “Where are the others?”
“Actually, I came to tell you that practice has been cancelled.”
“What?” Jonah couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“The new coach is still out of town,” Duncan explained.
“I see. But can’t we practice once without him?”
“The guys are busy, too. Parker’s got a new girlfriend. Xavier’s looking for an apartment. Johnson’s car is at the garage. I actually have stuff to do, as well. But hey, cheer up. Someone should be coming to play with you soon.”
Jonah gave him a wary frown. “Who?”
Duncan looked toward the door and smiled when a guy Jonah had never seen before walked onto the court, a freshman by the looks of him. He was tall and lean, like Jonah and most of his teammates, but more muscular, like a swimmer. As he walked, his long, brown hair bounced off his shoulders.
“Steve McDaniel, meet Jonah West.” Duncan introduced them with a hand on each of their shoulders, like a referee instructing boxers before a match. “Jonah, meet Steve McDaniel, our new teammate.”
“Teammate?” Jonah asked, giving Duncan a frown.
“Yep,” Duncan said proudly, slapping the new guy on the shoulder. “Steve’s a power forward out of Chicago, star of his high school team.”
“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, holding out his hand.
Jonah stared at the hand, but didn’t shake it. He gestured for Duncan to follow and they stepped a few feet away. Jonah said, “I thought tryouts weren’t until next week.”
“Well, Steve doesn’t have to try out.” Duncan placed an arm around Jonah’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Like I said, he was a star player on his high school team, so he has mad skills. Plus, his dad is Malcolm McDaniel, the famous alumni who just gave a large donation to the school.”
Jonah frowned. He had no problem with a talented player walking on before try outs, but now that Duncan had added that little detail, he felt disgusted. Having grown up poor, there was nothing he hated more than rich kids who thought they could buy anything, even a spot on the basketball team. Who did this guy think he was?
“Well, I’ll leave the two of you.” Duncan said, giving him a pat on the back. “See what he's got, will ya?”
“Welcome to the team.” Duncan plucked the ball from Jonah’s hands and threw it at Steve. He chuckled under his breath as he left.
For a moment, Jonah and Steve didn’t say anything. They simply stood and looked at each other. Then Steve started dribbling.
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Do you even know how to shoot that ball or are you relying on your family name to keep you on the floor?” Jonah asked brashly, unable to suppress his resentment.
Steve stopped dribbling and frowned. “What’s wrong with you, man?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong with me. In fact, I made the team the right way, through hard work and talent.”
Steve narrowed his dark eyes at Jonah. There was a slight smile on
his lips. He bounced the ball to Jonah. “Are you saying I don’t have talent?”
Jonah caught the ball and cradled it against his hip. “Talent’s the one thing your old man’s money can’t buy.”
Steve was wearing a warm-up jacket. He unzipped it and shook it off his shoulders. He tossed the jacket aside and crossed his arms over his chest. He said, “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to play ball. Why don’t we play a little one-on-one? If I win, you’ll cut the bullshit and accept me as your teammate. If I lose, I’ll quit the team.”
Cocky bastard, Jonah thought. Still, he was never one to back down from a challenge, especially one issued on the court by some rich kid who probably couldn’t hit the backboard. He pushed the ball into Steve’s belly and took a step back. He wiped the soles of his shoes with his hands and assumed a defensive position, his eyes on the ball in Steve’s hand.
“Bring it.”
*
For the next ten minutes, they played, exchanging baskets on one side of the court. It was a simple one-on-one challenge. No referee. No scoreboard. No audience. Yet, it might as well have been a championship do-or-die game, both players serious and intent on winning, giving their all.
Steve was good, Jonah had to admit. His defense was lacking and sometimes he got impatient—the mark of an inexperienced player—but he had quick legs for his size and a good wrist, converting most of his shots. His favorite move was a floater off a crossover, though he could also shoot from further out. No threes. Still, his outside shooting was remarkable enough for a power forward.
Show-off.
So he wasn’t just a pretty face, after all. Not just a rich brat.
Steve McDaniels was a talented player. And a formidable opponent, maybe one of the toughest Jonah had ever gone up against.
Even so, he didn’t allow himself to be left behind or outdone by the rookie, using his experience, quick thinking and agility to score one basket after another. With each shot he made, adrenaline buzzed through his veins. It had been a long time since he had been challenged single-handedly and now, he was in the zone, motivated to show his mettle and put the greenhorn in his place. He did his best. But in the end, he fell short.