Poster Boy

by Anne Tenino

  Jock shivered from his words and his breath blowing on the skin he’d wetted. “Except—”

  “Except that.”

  Jock was compliant. Fighting his instinctive need to direct things and letting Toby do what he wanted. Even when Toby straddled Jock’s torso, pinning him arms between his thighs and laying his dick on Jock’s chest. Anyone who thought cocks weren’t their own entities had never had one naked and pulsating over his heart. The beat in Toby’s vein echoed the thump of Jock’s blood, sending some kind of Morse code through his body, making him ache everywhere and not care what Toby wanted—he could shove himself down Jock’s throat and choke him, pinning his arms like this the whole time. Do whatever he needed.

  “You okay?” Toby whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  Toby smiled, circling his hips so his cock dragged across Jock’s skin, drooling pre-cum on him and leaving little shivers in its path. “I have a thing for your chest,” he whispered, as if it were a secret.

  “I know,” Jock said.

  “It’s beautiful,” he went on. “So defined I can see the sinews holding your muscles together, and I want to rub my dick all over it until I come on your neck.”

  Jock sucked in a breath, his gut clenching.

  Toby stilled his rocking. “Is that too weird?”

  “It sounds kinda hot.” Jock swallowed. He wasn’t lying, but it was definitely a frightening kind of hot.

  But that’s not what Toby did at all. “Another time.” He slid down Jock’s body until they were pressed fully against each other, then grasped Jock’s wrists, still lying on the bed. Jock didn’t smother the little noises that he usually bit back when Toby started rocking against him, his hairy belly rubbing and caressing Jock’s dick. Tickling him. Teasing his nerves and senses until he got confused and actually believed Toby was holding him down and would stroke him until he came, leaving him no control over the outcome, which somehow fed his anxieties and his excitement at the same time, and both of them were fueling his building orgasm. When Toby took over Jock’s mouth, directing the kiss and feeding Jock his flavor and the scent of him, it fogged his mind. Disorienting him, so he didn’t realize he was about to come until he was flying through unknown space with it, half in terror and half in joy.

  “I love you so much,” Toby whispered afterward, while they were still shaky from coming so hard and he was still lying on Jock, kissing him with soft lips. On his eyelids, and temples, then down his jaw to find his mouth.

  “I love you too.” So much it made his eyes sting and his heart fill up his chest. He finally pulled his arms off the covers, wrapping them around Toby and pressing him against his ribcage. Toby sighed happily.

  They did talk more, eventually. Once they were under the blankets and holding each other. “I can’t believe I thought that was okay.”

  “What?” Toby asked, head pillowed on Jock’s arm, fingers tracing his pecs.

  “That it was okay to fuck you—or anyone, but mostly you—while I still thought it was demeaning if someone did me.”

  “‘Still thought’? You don’t anymore?”

  “I don’t know for sure what I think, but it’s like I flipped a switch or something. I look back at that attitude and . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be with me.”

  “But I did want to be with you, even then. I just knew that if I stayed, knowing you thought that, it’d destroy us someday.”

  “I get that now.” He kissed Toby’s head. “You know what’s weird? I miss hockey less. Like, I kinda think, for me, it wasn’t just the game, it was how I saw myself.”

  “Even once you figured out you were gay?”

  “Yeah.” He rolled onto his side, facing his boyfriend. “Which is extra weird. Because once I figured that out, it seems like I would have started questioning everything, doesn’t it?”

  Toby turned onto his back, rubbing his forehead and staring intently at the ceiling. “I should have taken more psych classes,” he muttered. Before Jock could ask, Toby returned, facing him again. “Okay, so, this is my amateur take on things, but it’s like we get told stuff, about what it means to be a man or a woman, and most kids buy into that early on. Sometimes even the kids whose parents are consciously trying not to force gender norms on their kids. Then as people grow up, some of them start to figure out that that cultural ideal they were sold? It’s not their version of being a man or a woman. But it takes a while for most of them to, like, shed the chrysalis of society’s gender stereotypes. And that’s not even touching the subject of people who feel like a mixture of genders, or another gender altogether.”

  “So, like, you’re saying that I could accept that I was gay, but it took me longer to accept that . . . that might mean doing things that didn’t fit into the ‘male’ box. The box I feel like I fit in.” Because even now, he knew instinctively that he was all boy. The difference was that he could see how being masculine wasn’t as restrictive as he’d thought. He got to define it for himself.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “I like that theory.” It gave him comfort, oddly. Answers should have given him comfort, but after nineteen years of other people’s answers, he was good with not knowing everything now and figuring it out as they went along.

  “So, do you think you’ll ever play hockey again?”

  “I still don’t know, but I’d like to do something like that. Maybe I’ll check out some other stuff. I hear rugby’s cool.”

  Toby lifted himself up on his elbow, grinning down at Jock. “Rugby’s not cool, baby. It’s hot.”

  “So . . .” Jock felt his own smile break through his attempt to be serious. “You’d encourage me to do that, huh?”

  “I’d be your favorite athletic supporter.” He smirked. “I’d come to every game just to see you get all muddy and worked up and wrestle around with other guys.”

  “As long as you come home with me. I don’t share well.”

  “You do with me,” Toby said.

  “Yeah, but that’s because you’re mine.”

  Toby snorted. “I should probably protest how possessive you are, shouldn’t I?”

  Jock shrugged, combing his fingers through Toby’s bangs and then gripping his head, pulling him closer for a kiss. “I think you like it though.”

  “I do,” Toby said, almost to his mouth. “But only because you’re mine.”

  There was only one answer for that. Jock kissed him.

  Someone was banging on their cabanon. Toby didn’t even flinch, but it woke Jock up. He blinked and felt around for his phone to look at the time. 9:28; he’d totally slept in.

  Bang bang bang.

  “What?” It couldn’t be the cops again, they’d just shove the door open. The only thing holding it closed now was lack of wind.

  “Danny’s calling a meeting.” Ricky’s voice came through the wood.

  Jock snorted. “So?”

  “So he says he has an important announcement to make, and he wants you guys there.”

  “This isn’t a beer terrorist meeting, is it?” Toby croaked from beside him. “Because if it is—”

  “It’s not,” Ricky said far too quickly. “Really. It’s not that.”

  Toby groaned. “Should we go?” he asked quietly.

  “Probably,” Jock sighed, then raised his voice so Ricky would hear. “Give us fifteen minutes and we’ll—”

  “A half hour,” Toby yelled. “I want to take a shower,” he muttered.

  “I can help with that.”

  It was more like an hour before they made it to EuroTAG. Everyone was waiting for them, sitting in the great room. They’d left Jock and Toby’s space on the couch open, although they had to squeeze in with Danny and Madame again.

  “Sweet, you’re here,” Danny said, rising and moving to stand in front of the flat-screen. “I’ll get started, then.” He stayed silent though, looking at each of them in turn.

  “Think he’ll start soon?” Toby whispered loudly.r />
  “Men,” Danny intoned before falling silent again for a second. “I’ve called you here today so we could have a few moments of reflection. Look back at where we were just over a month ago, and compare it to how far we’ve come. When we showed up in Provence, we were a ragtag bunch of frat boys without a frat house, but we’ve worked hard since then. We’ve come together into a unit, man. A unit!” Danny punched his fist into his palm. “An honest to God team.”

  “Danny,” Toby said through clenched teeth.

  The dude held up his hands and lowered his head, acknowledging the warning. “I know, Tobes. You said we can’t say the name of the team anymore, and I’m gonna respect that, because you’re like our general. You’re the leader of this little—”

  “I’m not the leader.” His leg muscles tensed up, pressing into Jock’s thigh.

  “The secret leader.” Danny leaned forward and whispered. “The one no one knows is really calling the shots.”

  “I’m not calling any shots!”

  Jock stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, behind Toby’s head. Trying to show his support without shutting Danny down. Because seriously, all signs indicated that this was going to make a great story to retell. Toby’d appreciate it later.

  “You’re really messing with my analogy, dude.” Danny pouted.

  Toby’s nostrils flared, and he sounded like he was trying to breathe fire through them and reduce Danny to cinders, but he eventually nodded, waving a “go on” hand at him.

  “Okay, so, yeah. I’m saying that we have this unit, and we’re led by a shadowy figure—”

  Toby grunted in the back of his throat.

  “But we have a visible leader too, don’t we? Someone directing the ground troops, keeping up morale.”

  “That’s you, Danny,” Ricky said. “We all know that.”

  Danny halted, swallowing audibly and turning away from his audience, just far enough to brace his arm on the TV, swiping his other hand down his face. “Thanks, Ricky,” he choked out. “It means a lot to me that you can see that, man.”

  Rocky nodded solemnly.

  After a moment of silence while Danny gathered himself together, he turned back to them, planting his feet shoulder width apart and clasping his hands behind his back. “So, if Toby’s our general, I guess that means I’m the sergeant.” He waited for the murmurs of agreement from the other guys to die down before going on. “But, men, I’ve got some news that’s going to affect our little troop.”

  More murmurs, questioning ones this time.

  Danny took his time telling them, first looking around, focusing on each guy in turn, meeting everyone’s eyes. Jock tried very hard to appear as if he wasn’t finding this cray-cray entertaining when Danny got to him. He even tilted his chin, hoping that it’d read to Danny like him showing respect, rather than trying to hide the barest edge of a smile.

  Finally, he took a breath and soldiered on. “I won’t be going back to Calapooya with you.”

  “So?” Turbo asked. “You’ll be there next fall, right?”

  Danny bowed his head a moment, somehow silencing all the questions with the gesture. “I’m dropping out of school,” he announced when he had quiet. “Permanently.”

  “Are you fucking insane?” Toby snapped. He started to push off the couch, sitting forward, but Jock clamped his hand on his boyfriend’s knee, pinning him there with that and the arm he had around Toby’s shoulders. It didn’t keep Toby from expressing his opinion, though. “A college degree is the only hope you have of— Jesus.” Toby huffed, falling back on the cushions again. “Never mind,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Jock totally got what Toby was upset about, but Danny was a trust-fund kid, so maybe he figured it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if academia would be losing one of its finest young minds or anything.

  “But why?” Jules nearly wailed.

  Danny nodded, taking a couple steps to one side, then the other, pacing contemplatively. “We’ll get to that in a minute, Julian. But first, we have some official business to take care of.” He stopped, straightening and throwing back his shoulders again. “Our unit—your unit—needs a new leader for the ground troops. Someone to fill my shoes. Now, I’m out of it, so the decision’s yours, but I’ve been thinking about who the best possible successor would be.”

  He let the suspense build.

  “Who?” Noah finally asked, and Jock almost thought he sounded hopeful. As if he were buying into this.

  Danny took a deep breath, puffing out his chest, and intoned, “Ricky.”

  “What the fuck?” Turbo spit out. “Him? Why not me?”

  Danny sighed, pacing in measured steps to Turbo, clamping a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand your questioning my choice, but I gave it a lot of thought, and when it comes right down to it, Ricky has shown true valor under fire. He’s got the right stuff, Turbo. So do you, don’t get me wrong, but you didn’t have the chance to prove yourself the way he did against that staircase at TAG House.”

  Turbo muttered something but acquiesced.

  “Man, Danny,” Ricky choked out, standing up. “I just don’t know what to say. I’m not sure how I’ll fill shoes as big as yours.” He paused to swipe at his eyes, then threw his shoulders back, taking a deep breath. “But I’ll try to do you proud, sir.”

  “Sir?” Jock mouthed to Toby. Toby rolled his eyes.

  Danny shook Ricky’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder. Gomer took a picture of them standing there like that, smiling at each other. Commemorating the changing of the guard for posterity. Jock thought he heard someone sniffle, but he really didn’t want to know who it was, so he ignored it.

  “So why aren’t you coming back with us?” Jules asked.

  Danny motioned Ricky to sit down, and then he took up his stance front and center again. “I know you guys are saddened by my leaving you, but for me personally it was motivated by a positive force in my life. I came here thinking my job was to look out for you all, but I found someone who needs me more. Someone relying on me, and no offense to any of you, but she’s more important to me than all of you put together.”

  “Um, I’m offended,” Julian interjected.

  Danny ignored him, and beamed over at Madame on the couch. Madame blushed and smiled back.

  “Monique, would you join me?” Danny held out his hand to her, and she stood and came to him.

  “Oh no,” Toby breathed. When Danny got down on one knee and pulled a small black velvet box out of his pocket, Jock totally got Toby’s concerns.

  Jules gasped, clapping his hands over his mouth, muffling his exclamation of “Oh my God.”

  “Monique, my love, cupcake, you’re the woman for me, I know that like I know the eyes in my face. I’m madly in love with you, and you’ve said you love me, too.”

  “Oh, mon cher, I do,” she sighed, covering her trembling lips with her palm.

  Danny swallowed and opened the box, revealing the expected: a ring with a big rock on it. “Would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

  A tear rolled down Madame’s cheek as she said, “Oh, oui! But of course, nothing would make me happier.” She held out her hand, and Danny fumbled the ring out of the box and got it on her finger after a false start or two, then stood and crushed his fiancée to him, kissing her.

  Amid all the cheers and backslapping of the other guys, Toby turned to Jock. “I guess it wouldn’t be much of a trip to France without a marriage proposal, huh?”

  “I’m sure Danny agrees.”

  They didn’t have anywhere to go or any homework or much to do beyond swimming. Well, he and Toby could go to the cabin and mess around, but Toby was finishing up the last of his edits, and besides, it got really hot in there by afternoon now. The warmth made for some interesting and rewarding experiments in using sweat as a lubricant, but they had to be in the right mood for that.

  Bored, Jock checked his old email address for the first time since he’d arrived in Fran
ce. Being arrested and sitting through that whole interview had made him realize he was handling his aggression better. Maybe as well as he had before. If he could handle that, he could probably handle the emails.

  He wasn’t surprised when he logged on to find over three thousand emails. It could have been more, easily, but after scanning the dates, it looked like no one had contacted him for a few days. Deleting them all was kind of satisfying, and he got into the swing of it, not even really looking at who they were from before he clicked the “trash” button. But when he was nearly done, one caught his eye. It was from an individual, not a nonprofit or a media outlet or anything. Probably some skeeze propositioning him again. It came from sinbindiva1997, which could totally be a porn star looking to raise his profile by dating a guy with some notoriety, but “sin bin” was hockey slang for the penalty box, and if the dude who sent the message was born in 1997, that’d make him only sixteen or so, right?

  So what the hell, he could delete it when the giant picture of the guy’s dick started loading. Or after it loaded, if it was hot.

  There wasn’t a picture, though, just a short message.

  Hi Mr. Gervaise—

  My name’s Evan Coulters, and I hope you don’t mind me emailing you like this and all, but I kinda need to tell someone something and I don’t have anyone else. You probably get lots of messages like this, so if you don’t want to answer that’s cool. I just need someone else out there to know.

  I’m gay. I mean, I’ve slept with a girl, and it wasn’t that great. But the guys on my team? When we’re in the locker room I’ve got the good wood ALL THE TIME. And, you know, other stuff. I mean, I think about our goalie a lot in bed at night, you know what I mean? But I can’t tell anyone because they’d do to me what they did to you, and hockey’s all I care about.

  So I guess that’s it. I’m sorry you can’t play out here anymore. I saw your game against Cornell in November. Dad took me, and he kept telling me if I worked hard I could be as good as you. He won’t say your name, now, though. I looked it up, and there are some teams in Oregon, so maybe you can play out there, and someday I can catch a game.