4. Jordan

FOUR

I'mstupid nervous as I approach the menswear store on Wednesday afternoon. It surprises me—I haven't been nervous about sex or dating for years. Though if Uncle Luke asks, I totally didn't start having sex until my senior year of high school, and I definitely did not have sex in our pool that one time. But if, in some alternate universe, I had, I would have learned that pool sex is a great way to slip, nearly crack your head open, and almost drown when the girl you're with panics and drags you under even though you're only in four feet of water. It gets less sexy when that happens. On the plus side, once you've been through that, actual sex itself is a breeze.

So I don't know why I'm so nervous. I mean, it's just a blowjob, right? Mouth on dick, suck and pump, cum everywhere. Easy.

Except I'll be the one giving it, which I've never done before. Never touched another man's cock before. Never even really looked at one, if I'm being honest with myself. Not looked, looked.

Okay, maybe I do know why I'm nervous.

The nerves ramp all the way up when I walk into the store and don't see Blaise. What I do see is an older guy talking to a woman with a toddler in a stroller. They're looking at a shirt while the kid snoozes. Maybe Blaise isn't even working today. If he is… can I really suck him off with other people here? A kid? That's kind of gross. I mean, it's not like they'd be watching or anything, but what if Blaise is loud when he comes? Or I could gag—that happens during BJs. The kid could hear something that would scar them for life. Worse, because they're asleep, it would be like an unconscious thing, and they wouldn't even know what traumatized them, so they couldn't work through it in therapy. They'll end up forty, unemployed, unable to talk to other people or sustain a healthy relationship, all because of trauma they don't even know they have.

"Someone will be with you in just a moment, sir," the salesguy calls to me with a professional smile before turning back to the woman. Does that mean Blaise is here after all? But I don't know if I want to go through with this now. I mean, I do, but maybe not here in the store. I could suggest meeting up later?

Before I can make a decision, a woman about my age walks out of the fitting room area, spots me, and smiles, heading in my direction. I guess Blaise isn't here after all.

Shoving down my disappointment—there will be other chances, right? And maybe Jamie was right and I shouldn't jump into this mouth-first—I smile politely back at her.

"Hi! Is there anything I can help you find?"

"Uh, I'm actually here to pick up a suit that was being altered?"

Her smile changes subtly, losing some of its enthusiasm. "Of course! What was the name?"

"Jordan Marks."

Recognition lights her expression. "Blaise is just pressing it now. I'll go get him."

She walks away, leaving me swimming in nerves again. Blaise is here. Shit. Now what do I do?

As though in response, the older salesman walks the woman and her stroller to the register and begins processing the sale. The kid's gonna leave. Maybe?—

But there will still be two other people here, and I'm not sure Blaise is gonna want to risk his job for a BJ from a novice.

Okay. Revised plan it is: ask him to meet up later. If I can, hint that good things will happen. I have to be clear it's not a date, though—he seems nice and all, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to date men, and I don't want to give him the wrong impression. FU is liberal and has had queer athletes in the past—Peyton Miller is the most famous example—but there's a whole PR circus involved with Division 1 athletes coming out, and I barely know him. Before I commit myself—and my date—to all that hoopla, I'd need to know him better.

Right now, I know I'm attracted to men, but not sure if I can handle a stick, so to speak. I should clear that up before anything else.

Blaise walks out from the back and smiles at me, a little knowing, a little smug, and I nearly swallow my tongue. My cock goes to half-mast as the memory of his lips wrapped around it fills my brain.

Definitely attracted to men, and I want to learn how to handle a stick.

"Hi, Jordan," he says, his voice completely professional. "I've just finished pressing your suit, and it looks great. Let me grab a garment bag for you and you'll be good to go."

"I don't need to try it on?" Crap. If I can't talk to him more privately, this is going to be a lot harder. No pun intended.

He pauses. "You can if you'd like to."

Now that he's given me the opening, I hesitate. "I don't want to be any trouble…" The guy's trying to do his job, after all.

"No trouble." His smile is friendly. "Come through to the fitting rooms, and I'll get you set up."

I follow him, my eyes dropping to his ass before I jerk them back up. Jesus, what's wrong with me? I never blatantly checked out guys before. Has admitting I'm into men opened up a lecherous side of me?

Or is it just because Blaise and I have already done more than I ever did with any other man, and I'm hoping we'll do more?

Blaise goes through a door marked Staff Only, and I wait near the giant ottoman. I wonder where stores even get stuff like that, and can the general public buy them? There isn't room in my dorm, but one day, it'd be cool to have—it looks big enough to stretch out and take a nap on.

"Where can I buy one of those?" I ask Blaise when he comes back, holding my suit.

"The suit? You already bought it."

I shake my head and point to the ottoman. "No, that."

His lips twitch. "I don't know where that one came from. But I think there's a furniture place in town that has similar ones, over on Short Street."

Filing that away for future reference, I nod. "Thanks. You ever tempted to nap on it? Or… do other stuff?" My face gets hot. They're stupid questions—he works here, for fuck's sake.

To my surprise, he grins. "Tempted, yes, but there's a security camera just above that mirror." He nods to the giant mirror at the end of the room, and I try not to panic. The cubicle curtain was open the other day when he blew me. How much can that camera see?

Math isn't my strong point, but the thought of that footage being sent to my coach or the NCAA—or worse, ESPN—has me calculating trajectories so hard, I'm pretty sure my brain starts smoking.

Blaise must see my panic, because he shakes his head and lowers his voice. "Relax—it can't see anything inside that end cubicle, even with the curtain open. The angle's all wrong."

I try not to sag in relief. "Thanks," I croak. "It, uh, would be kind of a circus if?—"

"I get it. ‘College Athlete is a Sex Addict' is just the kind of click-baity news headline you never want to see."

"Exactly." I breathe a little easier. "But, uh… it occurred to me that I should probably return the favor." Definitely not here, though. I've just discovered that public sex is not for me.

Well… not under these conditions, anyway.

Heat flashes in his eyes, and one brow quirks. "Oh? That's something you'd be interested in?"

"I can't promise any kind of expertise. Just lots of enthusiasm," I warn him, but if anything, that just makes his gaze spark hotter. "Um… somewhere else, though." I glance up at the camera, and he laughs.

"Yeah, I kind of need this job, so it definitely wouldn't happen when my manager could walk in. But my shift's done in fifteen minutes, and my roommate's not home until tomorrow…"

I take the hanger from him. "I'm going to try this on and go get a pretzel. My dad always taught me to eat dinner before dessert."

I park my car on the street outside Blaise's place and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I'm so ready to do this.

He's parked in a carport and is waiting for me, so I jump out and try to look cool as I hurry to join him. There's a frown on his face, and my stomach sinks.

"Where's your suit?"

I blink. "In the car?" I didn't realize I'd need it for this. Does he want to do some kind of workplace role-play? I'm not sure if I can act and suck cock at the same time.

"Yeah, but I can't see it hanging." He squints toward my car.

"It's on the back seat. I laid it out and everything," I assure him, trying to impress him with how I didn't just dump it in the footwell. Not saying that was my first instinct or anything.

He doesn't look impressed, but he nods and turns toward the building. I make a mental note to ask Uncle Luke if I did something wrong by not hanging it. Where would I even hang it in the car? If suits have rules, then you should get a copy of them when you buy one.

We go up a flight of stairs, though I saw a tiny elevator tucked in the corner, and into the apartment on the right.

"Whoa, this is nice." I fail at not sounding surprised. After he said he needed his job, and knowing what retail pays, I was expecting something… not this.

"Yeah, I got lucky. My roommate's family is rich, and he's away a lot for work, so he wanted someone who could be here to keep an eye on the place. I only pay utilities."

"Sweet." My dads asked me if I wanted to move off campus this year, but honestly, I like the dorms. Still, they wouldn't have set me up in a place this nice—Uncle Luke tries to walk a line between making sure we have everything and keeping us humble. "So, uh…" Well, this is awkward.

The smug smile from before is back on his face, and he steps up close to me. "Just so you know, I won't be mad if you change your mind. But if you still want to do this, I promise to be gentle."

I don't know why that makes me so hot, but I just got the best shivery feeling.

"I want to do this," I assure him. "I, uh… full disclosure, I've never, uh, I mean?—"

"I know you've never done this before. I was there Sunday, remember?" he says dryly, and I chuckle.

"Ha, no, I mean obviously I liked having a man suck me off, but I don't know…" I trail off. There's no way to say this without sounding like an asshole.

He seems to get it, though. "You don't know if you're going to like doing the sucking? That's fine. Some guys don't. It doesn't mean you're not attracted to men."

"Can I see your dick?" I blurt, and he grins.

"Whoa, straight to business, huh?"

I bury my face in my hands, and he laughs and grabs my wrist, tugging it down. "Come on. Let's sit on the couch, and you can see anything you want."

I follow him like a puppy, and when he raises a brow and offers to get naked, I'm only too happy to accept. I even take my shirt off in solidarity.

"Keeping the pants on?" he asks, and I grimace.

"I think I might need the restriction." I've been half hard since he left the store after his shift and winked at me, and if this is anywhere near as good as Sunday was, I need to keep my pants on to help me maintain control.

"Suit yourself." Buck naked, he gracefully sits on the couch, and I drop down beside him, my eyes tracing over his body. He's around my height but a little leaner, more lithe, and his skin is a few shades darker—like he has an all-over tan. His body hair is sparse, the same dark color that's on his head.

And his cock…

For the first time ever, I deliberately look at another man's penis.

And swallow hard. Dicks are hot.

I'm not a good judge of cock size, but if I was guessing, I'd say his is a little longer than mine, and thicker. Or maybe it just looks that way because I'm planning to put it in my mouth. It's standing at attention, flushed dark and seeping a tiny drop of precum, and god, I want to taste that.

But… "Not to sound like a cheesy porn movie, but are we sure that will fit? I kind of need my jaw intact."

He smirks. "It'll fit. But start slow—you don't have to be a champion cocksucker your first time."

Forcing my gaze away from my late-afternoon snack, I snort. "Dude, I'm an athlete. We don't like second place."

Arching a brow, he says, "That's big talk from a guy who hasn't even touched my arm yet."

Immediately, I put my hand on his arm, and he laughs. But it actually makes things easier—it's a first step. Like putting on my glove for a game. So I take the second step, moving my hand from the safe area of his arm to the more intimate expanse of his chest. Guys don't touch other guys' chests platonically. This is new for me.

I like it.

I like the way his skin feels under my callused palm. I like the little shiver he gives. I love the way his nipple goes hard when I touch it, and I slide my fingers back and forth over it, teasing, until he groans.

So I lean down and lick it.

"Tease," he accuses as I lick again, then give it a gentle little bite.

"It's not teasing if I intend to follow through," I retort, then slide off the couch and kneel between his legs. His dick is right in front of me, but I ignore it for now, returning my attention to his delicious nipples. It's only fair the other one gets the same attention, right?

I've been complimented in the past on my attention to detail in this area, and it's nice to know the skill is transferable to men. I play with his nipples until he's all squirmy, then decide it's time for the main event.

I lick a trail over his stomach, pausing to nuzzle his belly button, then… stop.

Fuck. I have no idea how to do this.

"It's still okay if you want to stop," he says softly, and I glance up to see him watching me.

"I don't. But maybe you could… guide me?"

His gaze darkens. "Verbally or physically?"

Oh wow, I hadn't thought of that, but man, my dick just got so hard. "Both. You steer." I pick up his hands from where they're lying on either side of him and put them on my head. "Show me how to pleasure you."

He shudders hard, his eyes falling closed, and a little more precum seeps from his cock.

"Can I lick that off?" I ask. He opens his eyes to see what I mean, then nods.

"Do it. Tongue only." He guides my head lower, and I stick out my tongue and lap up the liquid. The sharp saltiness is… not good, exactly, but I want more. I want to suck it out of him. "Good boy."

"That shouldn't be as hot as it is," I mutter, and he huffs.

"I'm with you on that. Ready for more?"

Fuck yeah. "Yes."

"Open your mouth and relax your jaw. We're going to start slow. Let me direct."

I do as he says, and he guides my mouth over his cock—but just a bit. Just enough for the head to press between my lips. It feels so strange, but I also want more. I lick him, stroking my tongue over the hard flesh within my reach, and he groans.

"You're a fucking natural. Keep doing that—I'm going to feed you more."

My jaw stretches around him as he slides me down onto his dick, and god, I knew he was big, but he feels enormous. He fills my mouth, and yet Blaise keeps going, pushing my head lower. It's kind of uncomfortable, but also… I love it. I use my tongue as much as I can, like he told me, and when he stops and strokes my hair, I glance up at his face.

"You look amazing, stuffed full of my cock."

The praise makes my dick throb, and I give myself a little squeeze through my pants. He sees what I'm doing and says, "Jack yourself if you want."

What a good idea.

His hands grip my head again, and as I start jerking myself off, he draws me backward, off him. I make a noise of protest, and he shakes his head. "Relax. I'll give it back."

He does. Over and over, he feeds me his dick and then takes it away, while I lick and suck at whatever I can and frantically stroke myself, until everything starts to feel hazy. I'm going to come soon—I know it—and I want him to, as well. So this time when he eases his cock into my mouth, I ignore the restriction of his hands and lunge forward, taking everything—and promptly gag.

"Oh, fuck," he cries, and I take that as encouragement, backing off a little but still working him on my own schedule. "Jesus, Jordan, that's… Fuck, I'm gonna come!"

So am I. As the tingles race up my spine and my muscles start to stiffen, I pull off him—don't want to accidentally bite. And then orgasm rushes me, hard and fast, and I'm sure I hear him yell, but I don't know what. Fluid spatters across my chest.

When I can see again, Blaise is a panting heap on the couch, his cum decorating my body like a badge of honor.

I grin, struggling to get my breath back. "I guess I can handle a stick."