Page 15 of The Jock
Movement. The slide of their bodies together. He groaned and rested his forehead against Justin’s as his hips took over. Justin’s legs wrapped around his waist, and his arms looped around Wes’s neck, and his lips captured Wes’s and refused to let go. “Yes,” Justin murmured. “Yes, God, yes. Perfect.” Justin’s words tumbled between their kisses, spilled into Wes like summer rain. He grunted and kissed Justin again. Lost himself to the feel of their bodies merging, Justin surrounding him, holding him. His heart was bursting, so damn gone for this man, gone like he’d made a breakaway and was full speed to the end zone. Gone like he was ready to do this, ready to fall in love with a man, ready to open the door he’d always kept shut and see what lay on the other side. He’d been gone for Justin ever since he’d first laid eyes on him. Every moment they’d spent together, he’d fallen a little deeper, and now here he was. With his first lover. Maybe, hopefully, his last.
Wes shuddered. His first lovemaking was going to be over way too soon. It was too much. Too much heat and pressure and Justin, too much intensity, too much of his heart bubbling over with hope and desire and craving. He didn’t want to leave Justin behind, though. He balanced on one hand and reached down, fumbling for Justin’s hard cock, weeping precome onto their bellies. He stroked, and Justin went electric, shaking and gritting his teeth as he gasped Wes’s name. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.”
“Good. I want to see it.” He wanted to see Justin come apart because of him, spill over into orgasm because of him. Gasp his name and shake apart because of him. He squeezed again, stroked, twisted his hand over Justin’s cock head.
Justin cried out as his orgasm tore through him, heat spilling into Wes’s palm. His body clenched, and then it was Wes’s turn to curse, gasp, almost scream as Justin’s ass squeezed his cock, and he thrust in, as deep as he could, and came with a roar.
After, they lay in a tangle of arms and legs and slow kisses, hands laced together, sweat drying on their skin as the sun rose over Paris. Wes played with Justin’s hair, ran the honey strands through his fingers. Justin traced the line of his jaw, his stubble, the corded muscles of his neck.
I’ve fallen so deeply for you, Justin.
But what’s going to happen now?
Chapter Five
Three weeks was a lifetime,and no time at all.
Days unfurled before Wes, each one bubbling over with new moments. New experiences. The first time he’d kissed a man, the first time he’d made love. The first time he held a man’s hand in public, laced their fingers together and walked side by side down the twisting Parisian cobblestones. He’d tipped his head back and felt the sun, smiling as he closed his eyes.
They were at the Marché d’Aligre, wandering the stalls and eyeing the fresh-baked bread, the wheels and wedges of artisan cheese, the bottles of wine, the produce that looked like still lifes. Everything was brighter, sharper, more alive, as if making love for the first time had unlocked some secret ingredient. Or maybe it was falling in love that made everything seem more incandescent. The world wasn’t perfect, but itfeltperfect when Justin was beside him, his shoulder and arm brushing Wes’s, their hips shifting together when they stopped to window-shop at the stalls and booths. Wes stood behind Justin and rested his hand on his hip. He fed Justin a sample, nearly kissing him after he nibbled the caramel-infused cheddar. He couldn’t stop smiling.
At the flower stall, he dug out his leftover coins from the week’s budget and spent two euros on a tiny bouquet of wildflowers tied with twine. The whole thing fit in his palm, and he hid it while Justin had his nose buried in the tulips, then sneaked up on him and teased his cheek with baby’s breath and tender lavender. Justin turned into him, and Wes wrapped his arm around Justin’s waist, holding him close in the middle of the farmer’s market.
Justin tried to pull back. Wes tightened his hold. Justin was so close the brim of Wes’s hat shaded his face. Justin’s brow furrowed, a small line creasing the center of his forehead. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet. You’re not out.”
“Who knows us here?” Wes let him go but didn’t release Justin’s hand. Instead, he raised it to kiss Justin’s knuckles. People were eyeing them as they passed, smiling at them. Wes’s heart hammered. “We’re just two guys.”
“You stand out.” But Justin smiled, and he squeezed Wes’s hand and didn’t try to step away again. He flushed as his eyes landed on the tiny bouquet Wes held in his fingers. “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”
Again, Wes tickled his cheek with the baby’s breath, then slid the sprig of lavender across Justin’s lips, a kiss of sun-warmed petals. “I’ll have to make a habit of it,” he rumbled.
Justin laid his hand over Wes’s, squeezing before taking the flowers. He inhaled, grinned, and swayed slightly with his eyes closed, a look of bliss on his face that melted every one of Wes’s neurons. Had he made Justin smile that way, look like that? Had he, somehow, made Justin that happy, so joyous he seemed like he was about to float away? Like Wes had to hold on to his hand to keep him tethered to the earth?
He did, lacing their fingers together and holding tight as he set off on an amble down the market’s stalls. Artists were sketching the crowd, and a mime entertained a gaggle of children and photo-snapping tourists. Justin twirled the sprig of flowers beneath his nose, smiling at everything Wes showed him, and when he leaned his cheek against Wes’s shoulder, Wes’s heart skipped a few dozen beats. It only started up again when he wrapped his arm around Justin, and they strolled through the Parisian summer like two interlaced swans, the scent of lavender dancing between them with every step.
Later, Justin eyed him as he wolfed down his third sandwich, one of the half-priced day-old offerings he’d bought from a bakery they’d found.
“You’re not eating enough, are you?”
Wes froze mid chew. He looked left and right, then wiped his face with his napkin as he tried to avoid Justin’s stare. Justin had a way of peering inside him, like he was picking apart Wes’s thoughts through his eyeballs, figuring out the shape of things Wes couldn’t find words for. “Um.”
“How many calories a day off from your goal are you?”
Justin knew enough about athletics to zero in on the details, ask the question that Wes couldn’t evade. He’d played baseball in high school before switching to the drill team, he’d said, and besides, if anyone thought drill wasn’t a sport, they’d never sat in a Texas high school football stadium on a Friday night. “About two thousand. Or a little bit more.” A lot more. But he couldn’t afford to buy more food. Everything was more expensive than he’d expected, plus he hadn’t planned for the hit he’d taken to his funds at the airport money changer.
Justin grabbed his phone and started tapping at the screen, pulling up a map. “Okay, there’s asupermarchéa few blocks away. Let’s go get supplies.”
“Supplies?”
“Yeah. Food for the room. There’s a hot plate and a mini fridge, and I saw a few pots and pans. We can cook a few things. Can you cook?”
“I’m okay if we’re talking hot dogs or sandwiches. Or if we’re cooking over a fire.”
Justin rolled his eyes but smiled. “Okay, so I’ll cook. Let’s get some groceries. I’ll buy some, you buy some, and we’ll save money eating in the room instead of going out for every meal.”
Wes could have kissed him. Justin hadn’t said a word about his own finances, but Wes had spied the optional extras catalog with the pages dogeared in Justin’s duffel, so money clearly wasn’t an issue for him. But he wasn’t pushing, nor was he complaining—when he had every right to, considering meeting Wes had basically bulldozed those dogeared Paris plans—and that quiet support meant the world to Wes.
At the store, Wes loaded up on the basics, stocking up on carbs and proteins, and pastas and cheeses, milk and eggs, sandwich meat and bread, fruits and vegetables. Justin went eclectic, grabbing ingredients to make crepes and homemade pizza, baguettes and chicken breasts and simmer sauces. He looked up recipes on his phone and trolled the aisles, adding a mini mountain to his cart, while Wes followed with his more modest selection. At the end, Justin topped off his haul with a jar of protein powder. “Just in case I can’t fill you up.”
