Page 12 of The Jock
“I—” Wes rubbed his nose over Justin’s. “I’ve really never done this before.”
“Never been with a guy?”
“Never been with anyone.”
Justin’s eyes went wide. His foot and his thumb stilled. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously.” Wes shrugged. “It wasn’t right with a girl. I never wanted to get close enough to a girl to get this far. And… I’ve never kissed a guy until tonight.”
Justin’s jaw dropped. He stared at Wes, into Wes. Sat up slowly, leaning back on his elbows as Wes tipped to his side and crashed to the squeaky mattress. He didn’t want to let go of Justin, though, and he kept stroking Justin’s thigh, up and down the taut muscle. Justin’s cock bulged against his fly. Wes stared at it, wishing he was Superman with X-ray vision and could see right through the denim, that he could get his first glimpse of a cock he was allowed to crave.
“We should slow down.” Justin’s hand landed on the center of Wes’s chest, his fingers pressing into his skin, through the curls of his chest hair. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think…”
Wes glanced down at his limp dick. Shrugged. “Guess we have to.”
“Not because of that.” Justin shifted, rolling onto his side and sliding his body against Wes’s, legs tangling, hips slotted together, his hand sliding over Wes’s heart. “My first time was kind of crappy. It was a rush. We were sneaking. It wasn’t special. I don’t want that for you.”
“You’re special.” Wes laid his hand over Justin’s. His palm was huge, covering almost all of Justin’s hand and his long fingers. He pulled Justin’s hand up, kissed his knuckles.
“Why?” Justin tipped his head to the side. “Why me?”
If he knew the answer to that… Wes exhaled. He rubbed his thumb over Justin’s skin. “I really, really like you. I was coming to Paris to knock out a year of French, but now… You’ve taken everything over. I can’t think about anything except you. Even in class, I’m always sneaking looks at you. I want to hear your voice and see your eyes and watch you smile. I want to listen to you talk all day. French, English—hell, gibberish. I just want to hear your voice. Be around you. And I don’t know why. I mean, I do.” He fumbled. This was more than he ever spoke at once. “You’re… great.”Well said, Wes.He always had a way with words, his mama had said. They ran from him. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I’m surrounded by jocks. Football players. Stuck-up athletic trainers. Groupies. I’ve never met someone so…”Free. He wanted to say free. “Independent. Strong. So themselves.”
“You don’t get out much.”
He ran his hand from Justin’s hip to his belly, then slipped it beneath Justin’s shirt. “You make me feel real.”
Justin chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Is that what you want? To feel real?”
“I’ve always wanted that. But it couldn’t happen.”
“What’s different now? Why are you kissing me?”
“Why does the ball need to be caught?”
Justin frowned.
“Because it’s there. Because it’s thrown. Why now? Because you’re here. Because I waited my whole life for the right moment, and the right guy, and…” Wes smiled. Ran his palm over the taut skin beneath Justin’s belly button. “This feels right. Like when I picked up my first football and ran across the yard, all the way down the drive, kept running into the pasture until my dad had to chase me. I knew what felt right. Grabbing that ball and running. Riding my horse as far as I could, to the end of my world. Now you. You feel like the rightest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He ducked his head. “I didn’t know if you would be interested in me. If you were into guys, or…”
“You didn’t know I was gay? Seems like everyone knows by looking at me.”
“I didn’t. I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience here, but I just thought you were cooler than I was. More cultured. Smarter.”
“Well.” Justin smiled. Pretended to be smug. “I try.”
“You succeeded. Got me all spun up ‘bout you.” He laid his accent on thick and heavy, like slow honey under a summer sun.
Justin cupped his cheek and pulled him close, kissing him slowly, and then not slowly, until Wes pushed Justin to the mattress and rose over him again. He kissed Justin’s lips, then down to his chin, his neck, bit gently on the edge of his collarbone. “Can I take your shirt off?”
“Of course.” Justin tore his button-down and undershirt off so fast he was almost a blur. He flung the clothing somewhere beyond them, out of sight. He lay back as Wes bit down on his pec, then nibbled his way from nipple to nipple, swirling the tiny nubs with his tongue. Justin tasted like sunshine and a hint of sweat after a long day wandering Paris. Wes brushed his stubbled cheek over Justin’s chest. He was close enough to see the goose bumps rise on Justin’s skin as Wes’s breath caressed it. Was this really happening?
He kissed a slow path down Justin’s abdomen. Detoured to his belly button and dipped his tongue inside. Justin groaned, grabbed Wes’s head, and dug his fingers into Wes’s scalp. His cock was rock hard and tenting his jeans, pressing against Wes’s chest.
Wes’s heart pounded as he unbuttoned Justin’s fly and pulled down his zipper. His hands were shaking. Justin sat up on his elbows, watching Wes, his skin flushed, his lips wet and open, panting. Justin’s cock caught on the elastic of his boxers as Wes pulled them down, then shot free, slapping his belly.
And there was his lover’s cock, right in front of his face. The first one he could touch that wasn’t his own.
His mouth watered, so suddenly, so much, he almost drooled down his chin. Fire burned through him, a coil that went all the way down his spine and settled in his belly. Dropped lower. He’d dreamed of cocks, of getting his hands and his mouth on one, of stroking another man, getting him naked, exploring his body. Kissing his way down a man’s stomach and over his hips before burying his face in a man’s crotch. Now his dreams were coming true, and, goddamn, it was more than he’d expected. He’d wanted this more than he’d imagined.
