Page 30 of Poolside

Chuck. Masturbating.

Tommy swallowed. Cleared his throat, self-conscious, like there was someone else inside his head watching how he couldn’t let go of that image.

Was Chuck the kind of guy who went after it quick and dirty, like he was trying to get it over with? Or would he draw out his pleasure, working himself to the edge and then easing off, again and again until he lost it?

Tommy went to unbutton his shirt but the first three buttons were already undone. Instead he adjusted the vents, sending a blast of cold air onto his flushed face.

Fuck, he was hot all over, and he wasn’t dumb enough to believe it was because of anything other than the fact that he knew his best friend was getting off.

He was sweating and his dick throbbed because Chuck McCormac was probably working his own dick with one of his long-fingered hands tipped with blue nail polish. He probably had that long neck thrown back against the couch cushions, maybe his mouth was all soft and pouty, and maybe?—

“Fuck,” Tommy muttered.

He didn’t know what to do with this. What was he supposed to do with his body going fucking rogue? All he knew was he was suddenly hard up and hurting for how bad he needed to come.

When he saw an empty parking lot up ahead Tommy reacted, pulling in and heading straight for the far corner, where the last spot was tucked under the shadow of a large tree and surrounded on two sides by pruned shrubs.

The second his car was in park, Tommy was unfastening his pants, shoving his boxers down and freeing his hard dick.

Fuckkkk, it felt good when he wrapped his hand around his erection. It wasn’t what he craved, but he wasn’t even sure he knew how to articulate what it was his body screamed for. He gripped himself, squeezing the flared head and sliding his thumb across the slit, grabbing the bead of moisture there and spreading it down his shaft.

He began to stroke, his body burning like he was a horny teenager again. He was close already, too close, but how was he supposed to stop when he needed it this bad?

His ass flexed as he thrust into his tight fist like he was fucking someone, fucking a body that was hard and lean and freckled and?—

Tommy’s choked groan was too loud in the silence of his car, but the sharp pleasure wiped every give-a-fuck from his head as he came so hard everything got a little too bright and painful.

He was still catching his breath a few moments later as he did his best to clean himself with a tissue from the box he kept in the back seat.

Okay. So. That just happened.

His mind grew crowded with questions andwhat the fuck just happened’s. It was too much to process in the corner of an abandoned parking lot.

He didn’t know what to think.

One thing he did know: the thought of his best friend jacking off had lit him up from the inside out. It had turned him on so much that he hadn’t been able to make it home before getting himself off.

Another thing he knew? He was already imagining doing it again.

CHAPTER8

THE BEST KIND OF MAN

CHUCK

“I got you a coffee.” David slid the mug across the table as Chuck lowered himself into the booth. The two of them liked to go out for late breakfasts once their seasons were finished and their schedules were no longer constrained by practices and meets or, in David’s case, games. While their work was still demanding, they had more ownership over their schedules in the off-season.

Chuck slid in so he was diagonal from where David was sitting; they’d learned long ago that they were both too tall to comfortably sit across from each other. And while they were both fairly affectionate, footsie wasn’t really their thing.

Chuck busied himself adding cream and sugar to his coffee. “How’s it going?”

David adjusted the brim of his baseball cap as he shrugged. “Really good. I still can’t believe that Sage puts up with me. You know, it’s almost our one year anniversary?”

“You’re adorable as a boyfriend,” Chuck said, grinning. “Are you guys going to celebrate?”

“Fuck off,” David muttered, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. “Sage says she doesn’t care, but I do. I want to do something sweet, you know? Like a special dinner with flowers and chocolate and all of that.”

Chuck watched his friend over his mug as he took a long drink of the lukewarm coffee. He licked his upper lip as he placed it back on the table. “Just tell her you want to do something romantic. You know she’ll be game if she knows it’s important to you.”

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