by W. S. Long
“Why not?”
“Olivia plays on the same team.”
Cujo swirled the last of the coffee and then gulped the last drops. “I didn’t want to say anything. Not right away.”
“I’m not asking for a kiss-and-tell, blow-by-blow.”
Cujo nodded. “I like Tristan. We had dinner last night, had a great time at Times Square, and I kissed him right before we got to the apartment.”
“You kissed him?”
Cujo rolled his eyes. “I was going to tell you but I wanted to see where this—what’s going on between me and Tristan was more—what’s the word? Crystallized?”
“You know, Sebastian told me that he and Tristan had a bet involving you.”
“I know. Tristan told me last night. We wound up staying up until the early morning, just talking. Then I dozed off a little. He did, too.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Just talking?”
“Yes,” Cujo said. “We talked about his family, my family. His sister, racing. I don’t think I’ve ever opened up to someone in so short a time.”
“Cujo, you know I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way. But don’t mess with Tristan’s feelings. He’s not like you, or Garrison, or even me.”
“I know. He’s sensitive, but that’s what I like about him. He’s sweet, kind. I always wondered what it would be like to have a relationship that you and Sebastian have. And, there’s something about Tristan that keeps pulling me in. You know it didn’t even feel that weird kissing him. It felt—”
“Natural. Like it’s meant to be?” Caleb asked.
“Yes.” Cujo straightened his posture and eyed Caleb. “Am I messed up in thinking this way?”
“No. Does Tristan know how you feel?”
“I think so. We kissed some more last night. And—”
“What?”
“You won’t believe me but I put the brakes on last night. I told Tristan I wanted to take it slow. I didn’t just want a kiss and a fuck session.”
“Wow,” Caleb said. He put his hands on the handrail of the ferryboat.
“Did I do the right thing?” Cujo asked.
Caleb nodded. “Yeah, you did the right thing. I mean, you’ve never been with another guy before, so, yeah what you did was good.”
“Well…that’s not exactly true. I messed around with a guy in college.”
Caleb faced Cujo. “Oh yeah.” Caleb paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “Garrison told me about you and Brett when I asked why you dropped out of college. He said that was one of the reasons you left, he thought, was because of Brett.”
“Tristan reminds me of Brett.”
“They’re two different people, and you can’t rewrite history or make up for it with someone who reminds you of another person.”
“I’m not!” Cujo said. He backhanded Caleb’s arm. “Shit, Caleb, why would you say that?”
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know why. I don’t want Tristan hurt. And, I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want anyone hurt!”
“So, you’re telling me I should just cool it with Tristan right now? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Good God! That’s not what I’m saying!” Caleb had raised his voice to match Cujo’s, then lowered it after other tourists eyed Cujo and Caleb. “I’m just telling you to slow it down. Dude, you guys just met. You can’t confuse Tristan with Brett. If you have unresolved issues with Brett don’t experiment with Tristan. And if you don’t plan on having something substantial with Tristan, then be honest with him. You’re up here for a few days, then you’re headed back home. I have to live with Tristan. And Sebastian will be pissed if you shit on him.”
“Why the fuck would you even say all that about Brett and Tristan?”
Caleb opened his mouth but hesitated. Cujo’s lips were pursed and his jaw set.
“There you are!” Sebastian shouted as he and Tristan approached Caleb and Cujo. “Ship’s docking soon.”
“Cool,” Caleb said, breaking eye contact with Cujo. “I guess I’ll go to the bathroom before we dock.”
“I need to go, too,” Sebastian said.
Caleb and Sebastian walked briskly to the men’s restroom only to be thwarted by a line of other men with the same idea.
As they fell in line, Sebastian spoke. “Hey, were you and Cujo arguing?”
“No, not really.”
“Sure looked like it to me.”
Caleb sighed. There was no use in hiding what happened from Sebastian. “Cujo’s got feelings for Tristan. And apparently, Tristan likes Cujo, too.”
Sebastian cocked his head. “Yeah, he told me when we were upstairs walking around, looking for you guys. He wanted to break off the bet he and I made, too.”
“You don’t see a problem?”
“No. They’re two grown men. If they want to French, frottage, or fuck, why should we care?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want Tristan getting hurt. Cujo’s up here for a few days. You know Tristan better than I do. His feelings get hurt easy. Shit, maybe I’ve even got it backward. I’ve never seen Cujo so torn up about someone else since ninth grade. Maybe I should be worried about Cujo getting hurt.”
“You know what we need to do? Stay out of it!” Sebastian nudged Caleb to close the gap in the line into the rest room.
“Says the guy who made a bet with Tristan. It was all of Tristan’s probable flirting that led to them lying in bed all night talking. Do you even believe that?”
“That’s what Tristan said they did. I know, weird, right? Talking. He wouldn’t lie about that. You and me that first night, our clothes were off before we’d even closed the door.” Sebastian squeezed Caleb’s arm. “You know what’s great about your overprotectiveness and concern?”
“What?” Caleb asked, his voice getting grumpier as he started doing the dance of the man who had to pee.
“You’re going to make a great mentor, and Big Brother.”
“Uh huh,” Caleb mumbled.
Sebastian edged closer and whispered in Caleb’s ear. “And, you’d make a great worry wart of a dad.”
Chapter 6
Cujo jerked his controller and shot Caleb’s avatar.
“Fuck!” Caleb said under his breath.
“Dude, you are rusty.” Cujo laughed and clapped his hand hard on Caleb’s shoulder.
“I know, I know.” Caleb shook his head. “It’s late and I’m done. Notice Sebastian didn’t come back out to hang with us, and Tristan’s disappeared, too?”
“Guess it’s safe to assume they hate this video game.”
Caleb snorted as he put both their controllers away. “Only Olivia likes playing. I’ve never seen Tristan once seem interested, and Sebastian? He hates Black Ops.”
Cujo stood and stretched, then collected the long-necked beer bottles he’d emptied in the last hour. Caleb grabbed his own empty hard lemonades as they walked toward the kitchen and placed the bottles in the recycling bin.
“Night.” Caleb yawned. “Need help opening up the sofa bed?”
“Night,” Cujo said. “I’m good. I can open up the couch. No problem.” As Caleb retreated to his bedroom, Cujo grabbed a fresh T-shirt and underwear from his bag that had been stashed in the corner of the living room. Cujo headed for the bathroom just as Tristan exited the shower clothed in a bathrobe and toweling his hair. Hot steam still clouded the mirror even though the bathroom door was ajar.
“You guys done?” Tristan asked.
“Yeah. I thought you’d come back out and play some Black Ops.”
“I never really cared for video games. Weird, huh?”
Cujo shook his head. “No, not at all.” There was an awkward silence between them for a moment before Tristan broke eye contact.
“Last night, talking like that was good. My bed’s big enough for the two of us so you don’t have to use the sofa bed.”
Cujo grinned. He couldn’t tell if Tristan’s face was red even with the bright bathroom light illuminating
the hallway, but the slight quiver of Tristan’s voice when he said bed confirmed that Tristan was nervous about hearing Cujo’s response.
“That’s if you want, I mean. It’s just that…the pullout has that heavy iron bar that pokes through the middle, and a thin mattress. It bothered me when some friends of Olivia’s crashed a while back, and I slept on it.”
Cujo nodded, then smiled. He still hadn’t said anything.
“It’s up to you, nothing has to happen—’’
“Shh.” Cujo put his finger on Tristan’s lips then moved in to kiss him. “Think you got my answer on your offer.”
Tristan giggled, then opened his bedroom door, and cocked his head to follow him.
Cujo thumbed Tristan’s chin. “I need to take a shower first, but I’ll be right there.” After Tristan nodded and slinked into the bedroom, Cujo stepped into the bathroom and started his shower, as hundreds of thoughts flooded his mind. What does he expect me to do? How far do I go? Should we not have sex? Fuck! Does he expect me to suck dick? Then he focused on how beautiful Tristan had looked today on the ferry, and how with his hair wet, Tristan looked even more enticing. Cujo longed to do more than kiss, more than hold Tristan’s face in his hands as he probed Tristan’s mouth with his tongue.
Cujo soaped carefully and slowly. He didn’t want to disappoint Tristan. Once the shower was done, he grabbed the guest towel and quickly dried himself off as he padded quietly to Tristan’s bedroom. Olivia’s bedroom door was open and there was no sign of her.
Thank God. That’d be awkward if Olivia saw me with her brother.
Tristan’s room was dark so Cujo walked slowly until his eyes adjusted to the blackness.
“I can turn on a light if you want.”
“No, I’m good.” Cujo slid to the empty side of the bed as Tristan adjusted his position and moved closer. Cujo kissed Tristan as Tristan moaned at Cujo’s touch. Cujo’s hand traveled from Tristan’s face to his bare chest. He’d never tweaked another man’s nipple before, so he thumbed the area around one as Tristan cooed.
“That feels good.”
Cujo wanted to know if licking and biting lightly Tristan’s nipple would elicit a response. After all those years of wondering, the experimentation with Brett had led to this moment. He took a deep breath as he explored Tristan’s neck and nipples, with his tongue and teeth, Tristan’s breathing became faster-paced. Cujo’s dick hardened.
“Take off your shirt, Jerry.”
Cujo kissed Tristan. “You can call me Cujo, I won’t be offended.”
“Okay,” Tristan whispered.
When Cujo removed his T-shirt and threw it over the side of the bed. Tristan’s hands pushed on Cujo’s chest as Tristan quickly covered him with kisses. Tristan tongued Cujo’s nipples, Cujo moaned. “That fucking feels good.” Cujo finger combed Tristan’s partly wet hair. He loved the mixture of soap and shampoo that came off Tristan’s body. Their bodies were now touching and Cujo wasn’t repulsed when Tristan’s naked body brushed against him. In fact, his cock twitched when Tristan’s hairy legs intertwined with his own.
Tristan’s hands explored Cujo’s chest, stomach, and went farther south until Tristan tugged at Cujo’s underwear. Tristan slid down the bed. Cujo almost yelped when Tristan’s hot breath came through the cotton of his boxers. Cujo’s dick throbbed and yearned to be touched. Tristan gently snaked Cujo’s penis out through the open fly and kissed it while Cujo gripped the sheets. He didn’t fight him when Tristan pulled off his underwear. Tristan’s expert mouth teased the cockhead, his balls, and the shaft for several minutes. After a few expert strokes of his dick, and Tristan’s mouth pleasuring him, Cujo stiffened and tapped Tristan’s shoulder. This was probably the quickest orgasm from a blowjob he’d ever had. “I’m going to cum.”
As Cujo came, Tristan moaned in approval. Cujo sighed in pleasure from the release, and loosened his grip on the sheets as Tristan stood up and grabbed Kleenex from the nightstand.
Cujo reached out for Tristan, mesmerized by Tristan’s naked form. “Come here.”
Tristan obeyed and lay back next to Cujo. He spit in his hand and started jerking off Tristan.
“Oh, God, that feels good.” Tristan squirmed under the firm pressure of Cujo’s hand strokes.
“Good. Tell me if I’m doing anything you don’t want.”
“This is all good.” Tristan’s eyes bored into Cujo who, without giving him warning, craned his head and eyed his first dick up close. The soft mushroom head topped the blood-filled shaft. Cujo confronted the sameness of another man’s dick, but reveled in the difference. Tristan grunted in pleasure as Cujo moved closer, his own hot breath over Tristan’s manhood. He stuck his tongue out and swirled around Tristan’s glans. Oh my God, I’m sucking dick. Cujo closed his eyes and thought about the many times he’d received head, and what he liked, so did the same, tonguing the velvety underside of Tristan’s cock with long, wet strokes, and using suction on the shaft when he wasn’t attending to the glans. Tristan squirmed. This only turned on Cujo more. He wanted to do anything to make Tristan happy. Spurred by the reaction he was getting, Cujo pumped Tristan’s cock a few times and just as he started to repeat the process of licking the mushroom head, Tristan cried out.
“Stop, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum!”
Cujo pulled his mouth off Tristan’s dick just in time for Tristan’s cum to splatter partly on Cujo’s face, and over his head.
“Oh my God,” Tristan said, panting as he grabbed more Kleenex. “That was so incredible.”
Cujo laughed. He didn’t know why he’d had all these fears about being with another guy. “Why, thank you. Not bad for my first time, eh?” He wiped off the jizz that had landed on his cheek and hair with the tissue offered. He scooted up so they were eye to eye. “Wonder what a few more practice rounds will do for me?” He laughed some more and wasn’t surprised when Tristan rolled and straddled him. While Tristan started covering Cujo with kisses, Tristan’s hand reached around to gauge Cujo’s reaction.
“You’re still hard,” Tristan said.
“I am. You make me very hard, baby.”
Tristan moved closer to kiss Cujo. They French-kissed some more, and Cujo instinctively played with Tristan’s hair. When they came up for air, Tristan blurted out. “I like how you say baby.”
“I like saying it.” Cujo was about to say something else, but Tristan’s lips pressed against him. Cujo wanted to tell Tristan that this meant something. It wasn’t just sex to him, but Tristan had other plans for the moment. Cujo finally realized what he had been missing in his life, and he didn’t want to get off this ride.
Chapter 7
Two weeks later
Caleb tipped his metal chair back, then caught himself as Sebastian put a hand on his thigh. “What?” Caleb asked.
“You’re supposed to be quiet and pay attention,” Sebastian said in a low voice. “Try to keep your chair on the ground.”
Caleb leaned against Sebastian, their shoulders touched as Caleb tried to make it look like he was paying attention to the speaker. Caleb glanced behind. They were both in the last row. “This is the second time for orientation, and I think we covered this ground last time.”
“There are several steps to this process with us getting approved.” Sebastian whispered some more. “Be patient, okay?”
Caleb sighed softly. The speaker’s monotonous voice irked him. Since their application had already been reviewed, their backgrounds checked, and their one-on-one interviews conducted to become mentors, or “Bigs,” Caleb had grown impatient. “Wasn’t the match meeting already supposed to have happened by now?”
“They told me we’d have a meeting after this session.” Sebastian placed his hand on Caleb’s thigh and squeezed. “You’re leaning your chair back again,” he said.
“This chair is killing me.” Caleb stretched his long legs. His back bristled at the metal bar outlining a C on his back.
When the speaker concluded moments later, Caleb jum
ped from his chair. “Thank God,” Caleb spoke softly in Sebastian’s ear. “I was ready to pull the fire alarm or something.”
Sebastian folded up his chair, and Caleb followed suit. They walked over to the side of the meeting hall where they laid their folded chairs along with others.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait, okay?” Sebastian glared. “You can be so impatient sometimes.”
Caleb opened his mouth to say something but his phone buzzed in his pocket. Cujo had texted him. Tristan and Sebastian still driving down? Caleb showed the text to Sebastian.
“He’s worried we’re not driving his truck down? He should’ve just driven it down instead of flying.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure why Tristan and Cujo decided Tristan should drive Cujo’s truck,” Caleb said.
“Or you suggesting me to help him drive! I’m up for assistant station manager and as soon as I had put in for it, you have me to doing this with Tristan.”
Caleb crossed his arms. Most of the crowd had exited, although a few lingered several feet away from them. Nonetheless, both Caleb and Sebastian spoke low enough so no one else could hear. “I didn’t volunteer you. You said you wanted to be there when I waved the green flag at the 400 to start the race. Are you telling me that was a lie? All I did was suggest, and that was a suggestion I only shared with you.”
“Yes, I wanted to see you do that! I just expected to fly down with you.”
“The Daytona officials were flying me down first class. It was only one ticket. Besides, when you found out about Tristan driving down by himself, you volunteered to drive with him. I didn’t say drive. I just said it was a good idea. Or have you forgotten?”
“Ugh…stop. You’re making my head hurt.”
“Your head is hurting because you know you volunteered, and you can’t argue your way around it. You felt bad that Tristan was moping about Cujo, and you were worried Cujo would forget about him and move on.”
“I want them together,” Sebastian said. “They belong together.”