by Anne Tenino
When Jock shoved his white briefs over his hips and his dick sprang out, Toby had to sit up and catch it. Wrap his fingers around it and slide just the head into his mouth, ignoring all thoughts of condoms because he wanted to feel Jock push between his lips. He traced the corona with his tongue, following it around until he found Jock’s pulse and could taste the excitement throbbing through his veins, carried along with his blood.
“Fuck,” Jock gasped, gripping Toby’s hair in his fist. “That feels so good, but I wanna be in your ass.”
Toby moaned and pulled off, glancing up when Jock tightened his hand. Their gazes locked.
“On your stomach?” Jock asked softly. In total contrast to the look in his eyes—he didn’t do requests, he did commands. But he was trying to make this different. They were different, and even though Toby’d tortured himself wondering who and how many guys Jock had fucked between the first time and now, he let go of it all right then.
None of those guys had been him.
He lay back on the mattress, holding Jock’s stare until the last second before he rolled over, relinquishing any claims to control over what was about to happen. Jock’s breath hitched in his lungs before he climbed on the bed, crawling on his hands and knees over Toby, caging him. He stayed like that for long seconds, energy building between their bodies, before skimming one palm down Toby’s flank, tracing a line alongside Toby’s spine with his thumb, then sitting back on his haunches and grasping Toby’s ass in both his huge hands. Toby’s hips lifted off the bed, and his toes curled with expectation. Jock was being so careful, still holding back. He could feel it in the fingertips digging into his muscles, and the slight tremble in Jock’s thighs where they brushed his. He hadn’t understood the “take me, I’m yours” message.
So Toby made it clearer. “Fuck me,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you for months.”
Those were the magic words. Far more effective than a simple please. Jock grunted something, and then he was everywhere at once. Fingers shoving between Toby’s cheeks, lips and tongue on Toby’s neck, heavy dick rubbing between Toby’s thighs. “Where’re the—”
“On the windowsill. Right next to the bed.” Inches away from Jock’s free hand. It still took him too many seconds to scrabble around for the lube. Even more seconds before his hands were back on Toby’s skin. Spreading his ass open, cool slick, fingers sliding down from his tailbone, making only the most cursory trip around his asshole before one shoved inside. Toby hissed.
Jock froze. “Hurts?”
“No. Don’t stop.”
“You feel so good,” he mumbled. “Warm and squishy and slick. Like I’m actually inside you.”
“Yeah.” Toby understood exactly what Jock meant. As if he were exploring Toby internally. He gasped when Jock introduced a second finger, going deeper, knuckle pushing past Toby’s resisting muscle like it wasn’t there.
“Is this it?” Jock asked, sliding across Toby’s prostate and making his whole body jerk. He hoped a moan was enough of an answer. “Guess so.” Jock massaged his gland while Toby tensed until he shook, pushing up from his toes and wrapping the sheet in his fists.
“Gonna fuck you now.” Jock’s voice thrummed, done with asking permission. He pulled out and moved to kneel between Toby’s legs, extending long fingers across Toby’s butt cheeks, holding him open and down on the bed at the same time, the heel of his hand against the small of Toby’s back. All while Toby could hear the sound of a condom wrapper ripping open. Then Jock rested his weight on his arm, pressing Toby’s body into the mattress hard as he brought his cock to Toby’s asshole and began pushing inside.
Toby’s body almost couldn’t contain the force. Not the physical mechanics of Jock entering him, filling him too full, but the way sensation swept all over him, making him shiver and tremble and tighten with just the first inch or two.
Jock grabbed his hips and pulled him up onto his knees, adjusting them until his cock was working deeper, almost going too fast, but Toby encouraged him, pushing back and spreading his thighs wider.
Within minutes he was exactly where he’d wanted to be since that night in February. Completely surrounded, inside and outside, by Jock. He was so long. Standing up he was tall, but it was the length of his body while he was pressed up against Toby’s back, chest to his spine, that Toby was aware of in a new way. Jock could bury his dick deep in Toby’s ass while resting his arms on the bed alongside Toby’s, jaw scraping Toby’s cheek. When Toby took a breath, his lungs filled with the scent of Jock.
Jock rocked them both forward, moving Toby’s body with the force of his own, and apprehension curled through Toby’s stomach as lust shivered its way up from his tailbone. His brain had relinquished control, but his body still had to get with the program. Accept what Jock was doing with him.
“Tell me how it feels,” Jock said in his ear.
He swallowed, arching his back as Jock slid out, then back into him. “Full.”
Jock kissed his cheek, rubbing his lips along Toby’s stubble, hips working still. “Good kind of full?” He pulled out slowly, spreading his thighs between Toby’s legs, holding them open. His arms moved in tighter, bracing Toby’s body in that same subtle way. He captured Toby, held him in position, kept him from rocking too far forward when Jock shoved inside him, or pushing too far back when he slid out.
Not thinking, wrapped up in the frighteningly hot feeling of Jock holding him in place as he shoved into Toby’s ass, Toby said, “It’s scary.”
“Can’t believe I’m inside you like this,” Jock whispered.
They’d done this before—Toby shouldn’t be scared and Jock should believe it. But he knew exactly what Jock meant. It was about the moment, the intensity of this kind of closeness, and the way Jock had taken control of things.
And therein lay the root of Toby’s fear. Jock engulfed him, bigger than him and able to move Toby like a doll. When Jock pulled out, Toby followed only as far as Jock let him, keeping him where Jock needed him, primed for his next thrust. Working him by force and muscle, keeping Toby open to him. It wasn’t the physical reality of that which scared him, it was the emotional one. He was more than just receptive, he was submissive. Willingly. Letting Jock take him the way he wanted rather than the way Toby allowed him to.
“Oh God,” he whispered, the apprehension curling through him mixing with lust and desire, creating the best kind of tension. The out of control, driving down a dark highway at 100 mph kind. He spread his legs a little wider and arched his back a little more. “Feels so good. Fuck me.”
Jock grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers together, increasing his mastery of Toby’s body, fucking him faster, grunting in Toby’s ear each time he shoved inside his ass.
“I’m fucking you,” Jock panted. His next thrust forced the breath out of Toby, in counterpart to Jock’s soft “uh.” “Gonna keep fucking you until I make you come all over the sheets. Stroke the cum out of you with my cock.”
“Jesus.” No one had ever talked to him like this during sex. It sounded lame in a porno, but Toby’s skin prickled in response to Jock’s words, and the intent behind them. His hips canted up on their own, answering Jock’s thrusts. Jock’s sweaty chest slid along Toby’s back, making his skin burn where they touched and shivery where they didn’t. When Jock shoved inside him the next time, he pushed a groan out of Toby’s chest.
Jock was as good as his word, riding Toby harder and faster until Toby exploded, teeth sunk in his pillow and ass in the air. His orgasm filled every atom of his body, possibly even expanding his boundaries, blurring him on the edges. It lasted forever; each time Jock shoved into him he wrung out more, forcing cum out until Toby was pretty sure he’d emptied out a year’s supply before Jock plunged in one more time, hard enough to bow Toby’s spine, shaking and groaning curses and shooting inside him.
Just like the first time, Jock didn’t pull out until he had to. He maintained control of Toby’s body, adjusting them both until they were lying
on the bed again with him on top, still inside Toby.
Jock kissed his neck, then finally rolled off. Toby zoned out, muscles throbbing everywhere, pulse surging through him, hugging his bed. Not even annoyed about the wet spot on the mattress under his belly. His skin hummed where Jock stroked his back, and he found Jock’s jaw with his fingers, tracing the shape of it, eventually moving closer, until Jock had wrapped an arm and a leg across his body.
They fell asleep just like that.
Toby slept like the dead. It was a good thing, because Jock slept like it was a blood sport. When he and Tank were kids, if they had to share a bed on vacation or something, he’d regularly given his brother bruises.
At least, Toby slept like the dead except for when he woke up every couple of hours for more sex. Jock got a lot of what he’d been fantasizing about that night, and he was pretty sure Toby felt the same way. He got Toby on his knees, glasses on, blowing him while looking into his eyes. He got his first long, lazy fuck, Toby straddling his hips and riding him just before dawn. He got to taste Toby’s dick, and for the first time ever he didn’t suck cock with a condom.
Semen tasted gross, turned out. But he was pretty sure he hid his reaction.
Toby fell asleep again after that, but Jock lay awake, not really thinking. Drifting around in his head, sort of like the dust motes drifted in the sunlight starting to stream into the windows. Shining first on the upper wall and ceiling across the room from the bed, then slowly creeping down, over the blue wood door, slipping into the wall cubby next to it, lighting up some stacks of clothes. Shirts, maybe, just visible over the naked curve of Toby’s shoulder rising up next to Jock’s pillow.
Thank God he’d ignored the fears of getting together with him again. They were still balled under his breastbone, putting tension on his rib cage, but it was manageable. He scooted closer to Toby, spooning him—another thing he’d never done before—stroking his hip until Toby mmmed and pushed back into Jock’s groin, smiling. But then Jock let him rest more. He’d just needed to feel that for a second. Needed a little bit of a reaction, reaffirm that Toby responded to him in more than physical ways.
He’d totally made the right choice.
At breakfast Sunday morning, the table overflowed with baked goods, and both Danny and Madame radiated weary satisfaction. Toby showed up a little after Jock, in a poorly concealed attempt to not look as if they’d been going at it all night. It wasn’t as if Noah couldn’t verify to anyone who asked that Jock hadn’t slept in his bed.
Except Noah wasn’t at breakfast. He never missed breakfast. None of the boys did. “Is Noah feeling all right?” Toby asked, sitting down next to Jock. Had he taken the thing with Turbo that hard?
Of course he had.
Danny grinned at him, though, nodding slyly. “Noah met a chick at the bar last night and no one’s seen him since.”
“A girl?” Turbo half yelled through his bite of croissant.
“There are just so many pastries, dudes,” Gomer said, staring at the table with all the wide-eyed glee of a kid on Christmas morning who woke up and found out he’d gotten all the presents and his sister had gotten coal.
“Yeah.” Danny’s grin widened until it nearly split his face. “Madame baked aaall night long.” He turned to her, hovering just behind him, to take her hand and kiss it.
Well, everyone got some last night, didn’t they? Toby glanced at Jules, Turbo, and Ricky, all of whom seemed a little put out, if well rested. Well, half of us. Gomer didn’t count, because he either hadn’t figured it out, or he saw Madame’s baked goods as a very adequate substitute. Under the table, Jock bumped their knees together, and when Toby looked over, he was smirking, sharing his amusement through his blue eyes.
It filled Toby with a warm fuzzy. One of those things from that book his mother had read to him and Nathan when they were kids, about small balls of fluff that would dissolve into one’s chest and fill it with a sense of cozy contentment. Oh no. He’d become utterly sentimental, hadn’t he? Next thing he knew, he’d be writing odes to Jock’s penis, or possibly his testicles.
Warm fuzzies; twin circuitous snarls of seminal conduit,
hanging side by side in your fortress of shirred flesh,
joined by single purpose,
I salute your silent, undemanding vigilance.
Oft forgotten, yet never forgetting, ever standing ready
spewing forth the milk of your labors when called upon,
urgently summoned by the pulsing shaft that leads your charge.
Stalwart in thy ringleted hirsutitude . . .
Oh Jesus, that was horrible. Never mind, he wasn’t a poet. Although with some tweaking, it might make a good riddle.
He shook himself out of his little moment and tried to concentrate on breakfast. Next to him, Jock wasn’t having any problem with that—he was working his way through most of the pastries without a breather. Toby hadn’t had the heart to tell him about the nocturnal baking fetish he suspected Danny and Madame B had developed. Why ruin it by warning him to inspect each croissant for a filling of little black curly hairs?
All morning he kept waiting for the guys to say something about him and Jock, and they never did. Other than some puzzled looks from Gomer, they were almost alarmingly circumspect at breakfast. Afterward, when he and Jock stood outside Madame’s house and had a murmured conversation about their mutual need to do homework, no one butted in once. It was abnormal.
“I’ll see you later?” Jock asked before they parted, giving Toby the eye-lock he’d started to expect as a substitute for a good-bye kiss when they were around other people. The kind one might give a guy he was seeing.
Noah showed up at lunchtime, and with him the guys weren’t circumspect at all.
“So, a chick? Seriously?” Turbo asked in lieu of a greeting, scowling across the table at Noah.
Noah unfolded his napkin and put it on his lap, giving it more attention than it needed. “I’m bi, not gay,” he finally answered.
Gomer needed help with the concept. “By what?”
Other than flaring his nostrils for a split second, Noah explained it calmly. “I’m attracted to men and women. Any gender.”
“I never get that bi thing,” Jock said. “How do you decide whether you’re going to be with a guy or a girl?”
Toby tried not to wince. The boy’s need to categorize the world neatly into boxes wasn’t his most endearing flaw.
Noah rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do you want to get with every guy you ever met?”
All eyes at the table turned back to Jock, waiting for his answer. “Noooo.”
“Yeah.” Noah nodded. “So how do you decide who you do wanna be with?”
“I’m attracted to him.” Under the table, he bumped Toby’s leg with his knee, rubbing a second. More warm fuzzies.
“Same same, dude,” Noah said shortly. “Can someone pass me the butter?”
“Oh. Sorry, that was kind of a dick question, huh?”
“S’okay.”
It was a beautiful day again, even warmer than the day before, and soon the guys were talking about trying out the pool that afternoon. “I got different swim trunks,” Turbo announced many times.
“Yeah? I got a Speedo.” Jock smirked. On the other side of him, Noah made a choking noise. Or possibly that was Toby himself.
After lunch, Jock walked slowly back toward the EuroTAG with him, talking, and still no one butted in. It was getting eerie.
“Did you really get a Speedo?” he asked.
Jock snorted. “Nah, I was just giving Noah a hard time.”
“I bet you’re giving him a hard time right this second.” Toby couldn’t not go for the joke, even an easy one. It was like a compulsion with him.
Jock chuckled and changed the subject. “So . . . like, when you said a while back that you’d like it if I wanted to come and stay with you again—”
“Yes.” Toby’s heart ker-thumped. Please come back. “Tonight?” Shit, was that to
o eager?
Jock stopped walking, turning to face him, giving him the eye-lock again. “Yeah. Tonight.”
Jock’s other fear reared up and grabbed him by the nuts that night in Toby’s bed, when Toby told him they couldn’t fuck every night. Brad had neglected to mention that little detail, but maybe he’d figured Jock was smart enough to think of that on his own. Not so much when all the blood had fled his brain for regions south. Not to mention he’d been so focused on the issue of Toby not asking to fuck him that he’d pretty much used up all his brain cells on that.
Because there was something Brad had told him, but Jock had been trying not to think about. Toby was versatile, and would want to fuck him eventually.
He blinked down at the guy, heart pounding, trying to think of what to say. How to start this conversation, because he knew he had to buy himself some time to figure out what his problem was with bottoming and get over it. Since this was looking more and more like a real relationship, he probably actually needed to, huh?
Toby shoved his torso up off the bed, propping himself on one elbow to kiss Jock, then work his lips and tongue down the line of his throat. “I have another suggestion.”
Shit. This was it, wasn’t it? Toby’d ask and they’d have to have that convo and the—
“Because I get the feeling you aren’t ready to bottom.”
“Oh thank fuck no,” Jock breathed, falling back onto the mattress.
Toby laughed again, then placed a sucking kiss on Jock’s breastbone before moving down under the curve of his pectoral. “It’s cool.” His voice thrummed in Jock’s chest, then he started swirling his tongue around Jock’s nipple. No one had ever played with his nipples before, and he’d totally been missing out. “I can wait.”
No one had ever pulled him over them and let Jock drive his dick against their groin before, either. Another thing he’d been missing out on, but the only person he’d been with before who he might’ve done this with was Max. And thinking about Max while he slid himself against Toby’s skin, working up sweat and friction between them, was impossible. The distant memory of that guy had no staying power while he was in the physical presence of this one. He only wanted to do it with Toby. Just Toby’s tongue working in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm Jock was using to thrust against him.