Taking Lead

by Dallas Redford

  That command alone nearly does it for me. I start to move inside of him, appreciating the grip of his body on mine. It’s crazy how transformative this act is for him. It’s like he’s dying for it. He keeps his hands on my hips, driving me in and out of him until he falls back, his face the picture of bliss. His mouth is open on a silent “o”.

  “I don’t think I can hold off much longer,” I groan.

  “Give me a pillow,” he says.

  I reach for one and he puts it up under his behind. Somehow, I’m able to get even deeper inside of him. I keep plunging into him, pounding into the good, moist tightness that he has. He takes his dick into his hand and begins to yank away. I push his hand aside and take over for him. With every stroke, I can feel him massaging me inside of him.

  “Fuck! Chris!” he cries. Then, he goes quiet before he convulses and something loud, deep and guttural comes up out of his throat. His head is thrown back into the bed. His back arcs and his legs clamp around me, keeping me deep inside of him. His release powers out of him with the speed of light and it showers down all over his body, his cheek, his chin, his chest, his abs, as he breaks apart like a supernova.

  “Damn!” he heaves.

  The pulses of his body have taken me to the other side. I let out a shaky groan but then I am dazed into silence, gasping as his channel milks me dry.

  In the end, I fall onto his beautiful body. We cling to each other, his arms holding me tight, as we both pant, coming down from a miraculous orgasmic high. Sweat and our emissions are slick between us. His legs let me go, but I still savor being between his thighs.

  Soon, we get up and shower, the water as hot as we can stand. Then, we make out for so long that I lose track of time. By the time we return to his laptop, it’s late but we catch the tail end of an international basketball game, locked in each other’s arms.

  ***

  Hours later, I wake up. The room is dark. The only sounds are respiration and heartbeats. I can tell he’s awake. Maybe he’s been awake awhile. His warm, rough hand is on my chest. I wrap my hands around his wrist and he brings his face to mine, breaking my lips apart with a kiss. “You didn’t ask about the half,” he murmurs to me.

  My brain is foggy from sleep. “What half?”

  “This morning.”

  Then, it comes back to me. The half. The times when he’d fallen in love. There were two and a half times.

  “Who was it?” I ask.

  “It was you. It is you,” he says, huskily. “No, that’s a lie.”

  “A lie?”

  “It’s so much more than half,” he says, his voice deep and rich. “So much more.”

  He grabs my hands and presses them into the bed above me. He kisses me like there is answer inside of me that he needs to get to. I kiss him back like I want to be that answer for him. I long to tell him, “Fuck our world. Fuck our past. Fuck the rules. Let’s do this. You and I. Us against the world.” Maybe it’s just bedside bravado. But, I want this badly.

  “I can’t resist you, Chris,” he murmurs. I free a hand to run it along his back. It’s then that I notice he’s half-dressed and I don’t even have to ask him. He’s going.

  Now is the time.

  It feels final.

  Not like this.

  I want him to stay.

  I want to plead my case. I feel like a prisoner begging for an eleventh-hour reprieve that he knows he doesn’t deserve. I know we’ve come too far to go back to just friends. My heart crumples into a ball. There is a lump the size of a fist in my throat. I’m thankful for the cover of darkness because my eyes begin to sting. “Fuck,” I mutter. My voice breaks on just the one word and I hate it. I hate being this way. Sorrow rolls through me. “Davis, I need you…”

  That’s all. I won’t ask for everything. I don’t need it all. I just need a world where I can touch him like this sometimes. I press a deep kiss into the palm of his hand. I’ll take whatever scraps he has to give.

  III

  Part Three

  29

  Chapter 29

  “I’m killing you!” Tyson roars as the ball makes that telltale swish. He is. It seems like every shot I put up today is a brick. I don’t even have my usual energy to chase his ass around the court like I usually do. I know part of it has to do with my extracurricular activities from the previous morning, noon and night, but I can’t say anything about that can I?

  Davis is gone and there isn’t even anything to tell about that situation.

  I still don’t have a roommate and I’m going to have to borrow money from my parents for rent. I haven’t registered for summer classes yet. I’m a mess.

  After I get a steal and go for a lay-up that goes sailing above the rim and into the bushes, Ty stops, grabs his t-shirt and wipes his face with it. Then, he holds his hands up in a T shape to indicate he needs a break.

  I sit on the bench and I drink my water. He’s leaned back against the low brick wall that supports the gate surrounding the court.

  “Ok,” he says, gathering his breath. “Spill. What’s up with you, my man?”

  “Up with me? Nothing,” I say.

  “Nothing? I guess I must be getting exponentially better at balling. You used to be able to at least hang with me.”

  I give him a smirk. “I still can, mofo. I just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah?” he says, cutting his eyes toward me. “No shit. So? What is it? Money? Rebecca was kind of bogus for moving out on you like that with no notice. I understand her maybe needing to leave but you were roommates first.”

  I nod. He doesn’t press. He says, “I’m meeting with Priscilla later today to finalize everything for their donation.”

  “I know. I remember.”

  “I’m saying that I’ll know all of the details of you coming on full-time real soon. I’m pressing for it. For funding specifically for your salary. I don’t want you stressing over money. This way, you can quit that fucking bar job and put your degree to use. Well, when you get your degree.”

  “Thanks man. I really appreciate that.”

  “You’ve been my ace through all of this. You know how much these kids mean to me. They mean a lot to you, too. It may be corny, but it’s kinda fucking awesome that I get to make a difference in their life every day. You’re a part of that. We’re a team.”

  “I know. I think it’s awesome, too.”

  “Too bad their coach can’t ball, though”

  “Fuck off,” I say, giving him a punch.

  He chuckles. “No, seriously. You know what? We need to go out. My treat. Fuck Rebecca. Shit, fuck girlfriends, period. You don’t need a girlfriend in the first place. Let’s you and I go out to this strip joint I know over on 73rd. Tomorrow. You can motorboat some double Ds and forget that Rebecca ever existed?”

  “I don’t know man.”

  He pauses before he says, a little quietly, “Unless…part of your stress is that you’re still hung up on her, in which case you’ve got to talk to her. And, I take back all of that stuff about forgetting her existence, etcetera.”

  “I’m not hung up on her. That’s the thing.”

  “You had somebody else waiting in the wings? I know it’s not Priscilla because she basically wants my cock. I thought she wanted yours, but she clearly is out for the upgrade now.”

  “You wish.”

  “I’m just telling you like it is.” He gently muffs my head. I turn and give him a playful glare.

  “I’ll do that shit again,” he says, giving me a mock growl. “That look don’t scare me, son!”

  I laugh. “There is kind of someone.”

  He gives me a shocked face that belongs in a soap opera. “I knew it!” he whoops. “Who is she?”

  I cringe inside because I know that I must tell him. I came up here to Chicago to run away. But running is making more problems for me. And I’m miserable. I need to live honestly and stop hiding out. Plus, I can really use an ear right now. My heart feels like it’s shattered, and Ty is the
only person I know won’t judge me.

  I squint. Take a deep breath. Rub my fingers into my forehead. “Who is he? That’s what you mean to say…”

  “What?”

  “It’s a dude, man. I’m in love with this guy and I don’t know what to do because we can’t be together. It’s fucking me up. It’s fucking me up bad.”

  There’s a long pause and he’s just staring out at the court. He doesn’t move, and it starts to make me nervous.

  “What? Say something, man.”

  He doesn’t. No smart alec comeback. Nothing. Just the quiet sounds of the park. I go on, because maybe I was wrong about him not judging. I do know how straight dudes work, so I say, “And for the record: No, the dude’s not you.”

  “I know that, motherfucker,” he snaps. “You don’t think I’d be able to tell?”

  Anger spikes in my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just—When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

  A chill runs through me.

  When was I going to tell him?

  Here it comes. How did I get this wrong, too?

  Now, it makes sense. The talk about my degree and how he’s trying to bring me on. Priscilla already knows I’m into guys. He loves the Basketball Boys Club and wants to go bigger. I’m working with young boys. Dread settles into my stomach.

  “What are you trying to say, Ty? Is this set-up? Are you—are you going to fire me?”

  “Fire you? Chris, what the fuck is your problem?”

  I crush my face into my hands. I should have never said anything at all.

  “Let’s just play,” Tyson says.

  He stands up and throws the ball at me. Well, pelts is more like it. I must grab it to keep it from slamming into my face. I take off onto the court and the game’s re-started.

  He’s there to defend against me. His defense is so sharp and on point, I start to wonder if he’s been holding back on me since he met me. I manage to drive past him and shoot a layup. He appears out of nowhere and slaps it away.

  “Get that garbage outta here, bitch!”

  I look at his face. It’s hard as steel and there’s something in his eyes like anger. Fine, if he’s mad about me being gay, I’m just going to go with it. I can hang with him. I’m definitely not scared. In fact, his reaction is fucked up and homophobic and that makes me angry.

  The longer we play, the more heated I get. It’s the most contested game of ball that we’ve ever played. Every moment is tense. He’s on me like a shadow and I can hardly shake him. He’s like an octopus, blocking everything I put up. I’m the same on him. I don’t even let him get near the fucking rim. Everything he throws, I’m there to make him miss so I can grab that rebound.

  An hour later, we’re dripping in sweat and I take the loss. My body feels wrung out. My legs are like jelly. It was close, though. I lost by one point.

  We walk into the shower in silence, just the sounds of our flip flops on the tile.

  We shower apart. I don’t even want to look at him. If he’s mad, I’m mad, too. Plus, now that I know he’s a homophobe, I don’t want to give him any ammo either. Have him thinking I’m into his big black cock.

  Finally, it just bursts out of me, “I can’t fucking believe you, dude.”

  “Fuck off, Chris.”

  “Me, fuck off? No, you fuck off,” I say, moving toward him. “You say you don’t have an issue with me bein bi but you’re acting like a little bitch.”

  “I’m telling you Chris, fuck off.”

  He can’t even look at me.

  Fine.

  I grab my shit and storm out of the shower before I do something stupid. My hands are trembling.

  In front of my locker, my jaw is grit as tight as a vise as I run my towel across my skin. I’m thinking about all the time I’ve spent with Tyson, never knowing he was a bigot. Because whether you fuck dudes or not, it’s still lame to ghost on people in your life just because of what gets them off.

  Now that I’m losing Ty, I realize just how important he was in my life. Not just the basketball club, but him personally. Just a solid, stable presence.

  I can’t keep working here. I’m going to have to move home.

  In Fairview, I’ll never be able to be with Davis.

  What the fuck else can go wrong in my life right now? I get dressed, get my shit and slam my locker closed. “I’m out,” I say to Tyson as he comes out of the shower, dripping wet.

  He turns around, anger etched in his face. “So, you really weren’t ever going to bring that shit up? You got me over here trying to drag your ass out to a strip club to cheer you up and you don’t even like titties?”

  “I do like titties.”

  “Okay fine. Gay. Bi. Whatever, I don’t care. You don’t want titties right now, though. That’s the point. You’re in love with some dude.”

  “So fucking what? What business it of yours? It doesn’t affect my job performance one bit. You’re my fucking boss. You shouldn’t have an opinion one way or the other who I fuck.”

  “Boss? That’s what I am to you?”

  “What the fuck do you mean? Of course, you’re my boss. This is your fucking club. With your fucking bigoted rules. By the way, I know my rights. This shit is illegal.”

  “Chris, fuck you!” he shouts moving toward me. He’s still gripping his towel around his waist.

  I’m shocked into silence. Tyson never shouts. Never gets angry. He’s trembling. I know now that this has moved into a different phase and I need to leave.

  I go toward the door and he stalks toward me. I can feel the heat of him behind me.

  “I’m serious, Chris. Fuck. You. I’m your boss now? You and me? We’re supposed to be boys. I think of you like a fucking brother. We basically opened Basketball Boys Club together. When have I ever treated you like you were just my fucking employee?”

  I feel my face go hot as I turn around to face him. His voice is harsh but there is the shimmer of tears brimming in his eyes. Suddenly, all the emotion in the room is too much. My eyes sting and I can’t answer him or even look at him.

  “Exactly, motherfucker. I treat you like a fucking equal. Like family. We do this because we both love basketball and wanted to do something to help kids. I chose to do it with you because I felt like I could trust you. I’m open and honest with you about every fucking thing and you’ve done nothing but lie to me. About everything. Like a little bitch.”

  “Don’t call me a bitch, bro.”

  “Honestly, now I feel bad for Rebecca. No wonder she broke up with your lame ass.”

  “Don’t fucking call me lame.”

  “You are lame. If you aren’t man enough to own up to your shit, you’re a fucking lame. Point blank. It’s fucking 2017. Nobody gives a fuck who you fuck. You’re bi, so what? I don’t give a shit. The one thing I do hate though is a fucking liar.”