Five

five

Surreptitious: kept secret or done in a stealthy manner

TJ

Saturday couldn’t have come fast enough. I saw Spencer once in the last four days at the café for a few minutes. He was working and I was running to practice, so I said hi and asked how he was, and then I grabbed my smoothie and ran to the football field.

I’ve been too busy studying for the last exam in statistics and then training. But Spencer has been on my mind every fucking day, especially when I’m in the shower or at night in bed when I rub one out, replaying in my head what we did on that pink sofa over and over.

My father texted me twice more to remind me of my…responsibilities. The only time I’ve fought him was about continuing football in college. He was against it, thought it would distract me from my studies, but I convinced him of the opposite, that having a son excel in both a nationally followed sport and a hard major would give him more prestige among his envious colleagues. For the past three and half years, he let me be. And at times, I almost forget about the bleak future ahead of me. Because letting go of football to sit behind a desk is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

The loud honking behind me shakes me out of my dreadful thoughts.

I park my car two blocks from Carl’s house, leaving my jacket on the back seat and sliding the rolled notebook in my jeans’ back pocket. I can hear the music blasting from all the way over here as I push my hands inside my front pockets. Snow covers the house’s roof, tree branches, bushes and part of the street and sidewalk. It’s cold, but my body temperature runs high, my blue sweater and my favorite pair of jeans keep me warm. When I reach the front yard, there’s a guy sleeping face down on the snowy lawn, a girl is puking near the bushes while her friend is holding her hair, and a couple is making out savagely near the porch stairs. I avoid the plastic cups littering the path to the front door and then enter inside the house.

The music is crazy loud in the living room where Stuart is playing. The place is packed, and the change of temperature makes me shiver. It’s fucking hot. I high-five a couple of guys, wave at some smiling girls, and then greet a few more people. Football players are known around campus, we are popular. And most people are very friendly with us. I do like that most of the time.

Some of my frat bros try to get me to play beer pong with them and the girls, but I’m here on a search mission. And I successfully find Spencer after five more minutes of hunting.

He’s in the kitchen. He’s wearing a sheer, full-sleeve black shirt with the first three buttons open. It’s so damn revealing, I can see the outline of each one of his tattoos and the pink color of his round nipples. His jeans are not baggy tonight, but they hang low on his hips, showing his narrow waist and flat stomach. His hair is pulled back, a few wild red strands fall on his forehead, and his eyes have some makeup on them that give a smoky appearance to the hazel pools. He’s the embodiment of sex and exciting promises.

I just can’t fucking help the pull I feel toward him. It’s extreme and visceral. Something I’ve never felt before. Those slick red lips, I want to kiss them again while I explore his body with my hands.

He’s talking to the same guy we met outside the tattoo parlor a few days back. The music is a bit loud, even in here, forcing them to lean into each other. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind that. He is smiling; the guy’s hand is on his forearm, thumb brushing the skin.

The same enraged sensation I felt the night I saw Spencer kiss that fucker outside his apartment envelops me. I feel my nostrils flare as I get the urge to walk over to them and yank the asshole’s hand away. For touching him. For thinking he can do it in front of me.

Where the fuck is that coming from?

I turn to the side to stop the irrational feeling from climbing inside my chest and coming out as a growl. This possessiveness I keep experiencing is a whole new thing for me. I’ve never cared enough about anybody to feel jealous or even protective. Not with any girls I dated.

Why Spencer? I need to get a rein on my emotions and fast.

“Are you always wearing that cap?” I hear his teasing voice before my eyes find his.

I give him a forced, closed-mouthed smile. “My lucky charm.” That’s an overly simple way to describe what this cap means to me. It’s not only my football juju—which I wear constantly—but it embodies all my passion for this sport. It’s a talisman. A shield. A memento that reminds me who I am and what I've achieved.

“It’s not so bad on him,” the guy next to Spencer states. There’s a short silence in which I realize that this is the second time Spencer is not introducing me to him. Who the fuck is this fucker?

Taking a page from Lori’s petty book I turn my attention to the fucker. “How about this?” I say, as I turn my cap slowly around, letting my bicep bulge and flex under my sweater. I caught Spencer staring before, so I know he likes it.

“Damn, I see the appeal. Girls must love that.” The nameless guy sends me a knowing look.

“Boys, too,” I drawl.

Spencer scoffs derisively. Then he takes a sip from his Dr Pepper. What’s with him? Doesn’t like when I interact with his friend ?

“You do know that those kinds of beverages are the worst for your teeth, right?” I tell him. He drinks way too much soft drinks.

“Heard before. Your point being?” he retorts. Always so fucking confusing. Why did he start talking to me if he planned to act like a jerk?

I give him a bitter smile. “Here.” I take the notebook from my jeans and try to hand it to him. But he doesn’t take it.

“What’s this?” He looks at it with wariness.

Really? I sigh. “Found my old notes from Professor Corder’s class. I thought they could be of some help.” It took me two hours to remember where I stashed them, but I decide not to disclose that embarrassing extra piece of information.

He looks at me strangely, like I did something wrong.

And I’ve had enough. I fucking like him, embarrassedly so, but I won’t let him treat me like this. “If you don’t want them, man, it’s fine.” I’m lowering my arm with the intention of leaving when he grabs tightly onto the notebook. My eyes jerk to his as my hand doesn’t let go.

We stare at each other for a long moment. His deep, hazel eyes are so intensely focused on mine; the air gets stuck inside my lungs.

Allison’s voice breaks the spell. “TJ! Finally.” She pulls on my forearm, and my fingers release the notebook as I turn my attention to her.

She kisses my cheek and then looks at Spencer and the nameless guy.

“Hi, I’m Allison.”

“Raj.”

“Spencer.” His voice has turned even colder; his eyes slide up and down Allison’s skimpy dress and high heels.

“Are you friends with TJ?” she asks, pushing her breasts against my arm. They are soft, and I enjoy the feeling, but I would rather have a hard, muscly chest rubbing against me. My eyes go to his visible nipples again.

Pity Spencer decided to be a dick tonight. Is he having second thoughts about me? Truthfully, when I left him at his place after the tattoo parlor, he didn’t promise me anything. But I still remember the way his body trembled against mine inside Ash’s room.

“Friends? Not really,” Spencer replies with a bored tone. He’s looking everywhere but at me.

Message received. Loud and clear. Fuck. It stings like a motherfucker.

“Okay, then.” She frowns, but then looks at me all happy again. “Let’s dance, TJ.”

Allison is fun, always cheery, easy to talk to. She’s a member of the sorority house near mine, so we see each other often. We’ve never hooked up, but we made out a bit when I was really drunk one night sophomore year.

I smile, ready to follow her, when Spencer grabs my hand. I frown at him, but he sends me a severe look and then tells Allison, “Need to talk to TJ for a moment.”

I see Allison’s disappointed face as I let him drag me out of the kitchen.

His hand holds mine as we zigzag among people. He has very long, strong fingers. They wrap my hand up completely. I like his warm skin against mine, the demanding way he’s leading me where I need to go. That doesn’t make me forget what a douchebag he's been to me, though.

We walk outside the house. Until he finds a deserted spot, and in the next second, I’m pinned to the wall. I’m taller than him and bigger, and after how he treated me, I should tell him to fucking stop. But feeling his nearness, having his full attention makes my heart run and my mouth salivate. My blood pounds inside my ears almost in sync with the music floating from inside the house.

I can see our warm breaths creating little clouds between us, fighting for space, fusing together and then disappearing.

“It’s cold, you should wear a jacket.” I lift a hand toward his sheer shirt, but he grabs my wrist and presses it against the wall. I search his face for a reason but find only a grave expression.

Is he angry at me? What for? He’s the one being a jerk.

He squeezes my wrist, the grip shy of pain. “What the hell?” I hiss, because this is bullshit.

His lips tighten, eyes flickering between mine like he’s looking for something.

Ten more seconds of heavy silence, and I’m done. “Don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight, but you have to stop.”

I hear my notebook dropping on the ground before he growls, “No.” He presses his whole body against me. My cock bursts to life, standing at attention when it grazes against his. That bit of light friction brings stars to my eyes, and I groan, letting my head fall against the wall.

“Did you want Allison doing this to you?” he whispers darkly, sliding his hand inside my jeans to grab my dick through my boxer briefs. Fuuuck, his long fingers feel so damn good.

“Answer me, TJ,” he demands, with his hot breath on my neck, tightening his hand around my dick.

Fuck, is he jealous? “N-no,” I moan.

“I saw the way she looked at you. Did you fuck her?”

Anger suddenly rises in my chest. “Like you fucked that guy?”

I feel his smirk against my skin as he replies, “Never fucked him.”

“I still didn't fucking like it!” I growl.

“What?” He licks my neck and sucks—hard. His tongue feels so hot in contrast with the low temperature. The hand not pinned on the wall lifts and slides under his shirt, finding the cool, smooth skin of his back. I’m finally touching him and he shivers under my exploration.

“What?” he repeats, almost moaning, and I realize I didn’t give him an answer.

“I didn’t like the way you were with him, all flirty and shit.” The memory makes me see red.

“What are you saying?” The soft feel of his lips on my neck and his hand working slowly on my dick replace my anger with pure, undiluted lust.

But I need to clear things up with him before I lose myself to the pleasure. So I jerk my hand from his grip and grab his hair, tilting his head back until I’m able to look down at his eyes. “I want to do this with you, but I don’t like to share it.”

“And when you say ‘it ,’ you mean me?” He lifts a questioning brow.

“Have a problem with that?” I almost curl my lips over my teeth. I feel fucking feral.

He smiles. “With exclusivity? No—while it lasts. I have a part-time job and classes to go to. No time for much else. This is actually a nice arrangement for me.” Fucking finally.

“It’s settled then.” I growl before I kiss him, so fucking greedy for it. It’s messy, all teeth and tongues, as my hand slides to his round ass. His left cheek fits perfectly in my palm. It feels fucking divine, so much that I can’t stop squeezing it as our tongues twist wildly.

His fingers suddenly leave my jeans as the hard length of his cock starts rubbing against mine through the layers of clothes. I lift his leg and anchor it on my hip to get a better hold on him as we slide our bodies together. He grunts and wraps both his arms around my neck.

Humping has never felt this good. This right.

“Want to feel your bare cock against mine,” I almost snarl as the image of a porn clip I saw a few days ago of two guys frotting pops into my head. I bet we’d look hotter.

He lets out a small squawk, it makes me smile. “Yes.” His moan is followed by some laughter too close to us for my comfort.

“Wanna get out of here?” Spencer suddenly asks.

“Fuck yes,” I reply, sucking hard on his lower lip before letting him go.

When Spencer suggested a change of scenery, I had a few ideas in mind. Eating ice cream in my car wasn’t one of them.

Still, my pistachio tastes good and Spencer is here with me. Smiling lazily. My dick can wait a little bit longer. Even though it hurts every time Spencer licks that fucking cone. Every soft moan he utters is causing my leaking cock to soak the front of my boxer briefs.

“You still haven’t told me what you want to do after college,” I remind him, trying to distract myself from…him.

“Social worker,” he replies with no hesitation.

“That’s a tough job, a very altruistic one.”

He shrugs. “The foster care system is bad. I experienced first-hand what it means to be in a broken system where people who should help you don’t give a fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the lamest thing to say, but I’ve got nothing else. I file this new, small piece of information with the few others I have about him.

“You? Going to be a football player?”

“Family business,” I reply stiffly, giving a hard bite to my cone.

He regards me with a scrutinizing look before asking, “What kind of company?”

“Import, export.” The idea of sitting in an office eight hours a day sucks the life out of me.

“I heard some people saying the NFL is interested in you.”

I shake my head with a sad smile on my face. “It’s possible. My stats are damn good, not for the first picks, but…it’s possible.”

I remember Coach Morgan’s words: “College football is not just a sport, it is an experience.” And damn, he’s right. The best experience of my life.

“I have no idea what that means, but it still sounds fucking huge. Congrats,” he says with a faint smile.

“A chance of a lifetime,” I murmur, shutting down the faint light of hope that is trying to bloom inside my chest.

“Why aren’t you ecstatic?” he asks, looking at me like I have two heads.

“Because next year I'll get my BS degree in economics and then go work for my father.” I try to use a light tone, but I fail.

Spencer throws the rest of his cone in the small trash can on the back seat and then puckers his lips in a pondering manner. “If you could choose what to do after college, regardless of anybody’s feelings or demands but your own, what would you do?”

I sigh, looking ahead at the cars waiting at the red light. “I can’t let myself think about it. It’s painful to dream when I already know it’s not in the cards.”

“You’re saying that you can’t make decisions about your damn life?” He sounds outraged on my behalf. If his words weren’t so devastatingly true, I’d smile at his affronted expression.

It’s time to change the topic. So, I shrug, and after finishing my cone, I turn to him. “Okay. Here is one decision: I want to suck you off.”

He starts coughing, and I pat his back as I let out a short chuckle.

“Saliva. Wrong…pipe,” he explains.

I laugh. Real, deep down from the soul laughter. It makes him glare at me. But I don’t care. I find his glower kind of sexy.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he mutters.

“That would be in contrast with my purpose of blowing your dick.”

“Jesus Christ, TJ!” he splutters, but I can see his cock stiffening inside his jeans.

I turn my cap backward before sliding my hand on his thigh.

He spreads his legs in invitation. “That cap move? Don’t fucking do it again in front of others,” he hisses. I like this jealous side of him. It makes me feel all…tingly.

The sound of his jeans’ zipper going down fills the jeep’s cabin.

Then I realize something. “Were you a jerk to me before because you were jealous, Spencer?”

“I…” My hand wrapping around his hard cock and pulling it out of his briefs makes him pause. “Fuck! Maybe.”

His reluctant confession makes me smirk smugly. “I don’t want anybody else but you, got it?”

His eyes glaze over with pleasure.

“Next time talk to me. Don’t like to be treated like shit,” I state firmly.

He nods. “Noted.”

I’m holding another man’s cock for the first time, but it doesn’t feel that different from when I do mine. Spencer’s dick is smaller and thinner, perfect, and I’m salivating over it. I slide my hand over the smooth skin, top to base, making him tremble and moan.

And I do find a difference. The gratification and empowerment I get from knowing that I’m giving him pleasure. A pleasure he’s not afraid to chase as he bucks his hips, making my hand slide again, reaching the slick tip. I spread the pre-cum with my thumb, but it’s not enough, so I let my spit fall on his cock and balls, loving the way he grunts—and then I start really working him.

“God, yes! Just like that,” he encourages me, pulling my cap off to grab on my hair. I lower my head until our lips touch, and Spencer quickly delves his tongue in my mouth, ravaging it. He tastes sweet and bitter like the coffee ice cream he ate. It’s fucking intoxicating.

I nip his lower lip and then shift my body back until my head is an inch from his dick. It’s not a very comfortable position—especially for someone my size in such a small space—but I’m too excited to care. My hand keeps pumping as my tongue starts lapping at his balls. I love some nuts-loving while jerking off, and from Spencer’s long groan, he might like it, too. The earthy, soapy smell of his cock is my new favorite, and I expand my lungs to the maximum to get a big fill.

I focus on his balls for a few minutes, sucking, licking, pulling gently, until he demands— demands —that I make good of my words and suck him off. I’m more than happy to oblige since I’m dying to taste his cum right from the source. In spite of that, I’m a little nervous about giving head.

It’s my first time, and Spencer is a fucking genius at it. I watched some tutorials on the internet on how to give a good blowjob, but that’s all theory, while this is the practice bit.

He must read something on my face because his thumb moves to my cheek, brushing the skin delicately in a repetitive, comforting move. “Open your mouth wide,” he instructs me, “Take what you can and suck on it while you bob your head.”

I follow his directions and close my lips around the head first. His intimate, salty taste hits my tongue, and I moan at how good it feels. I already know I’ll fucking love sucking cocks.

“Just like that. Enjoy my cock, TJ. Make it weep for you,” he grunts deeply. It spurs me on. Closing my eyes, I take more every time I go down on it until I feel it hitting my throat and his pubic hair tickles my nose. My gag reflex is triggered, but I remember the recommendation from the tutorial to relax my throat and breathe deeply.

“Fuck, TJ. God. Can you swallow?” Spencer pants. I try and feel like I’m choking, but I stay put. I’m a fucking athlete. I’m used to hard and tough—no pun intended.

“Look at me,” he orders. I do, and Jesus, he looks on the verge of losing it. “Look at what you’re doing …to me.” He lets out a long moan. His pupils are blown, eyes crazed with lust, lips swollen over his teeth. I want more. Want to see him wrecked by unmeasurable ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea how hot you are with my dick in your throat?”

Keeping my gaze on him, I slide all the way up and then drop my mouth down again. He cries out, his hand pulling on my hair to the point of pain as I start a merciless tempo. I’m hollowing my cheeks, sucking hard as I go up and down, feeling the ache forming in my jaw, the stretch to my lips. My dick is leaking inside my jeans, and I want to jerk it so fucking much, but my hands are both full. One is inside Spencer’s shirt, gripping and pulling on his nipple, and the other is massaging his balls. I give them a hard pull, and Spencer growls, “If you don’t want to swallow your first load, move now!”

I do move…up, but just to slide down his dick again. He groans so fucking loud as he comes, flooding me with his jizz. I pull out and cough as he keeps shooting on my lips and cheek.

“Goddamnit. You’re a natural,” he praises me after the orgasm gradually subsides. I smile happily, licking his cum off my lips. It’s delicious. I should have experimented years ago. But I have a weird feeling it wouldn’t have been the same with another guy.

“Got to learn how to swallow better. As my coach always says, practice makes perfect,” I tease.

Spencer drags my head up to his. “So fucking glad to hear that.”

The slow way he licks his jizz off my cheek with those half-lidded lust-filled eyes is one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced. “You can practice on me anytime you want,” he whispers sultrily in my ear before biting the lobe.

My dick is nearly exploding inside my pants, but this might be a good moment to find out more about him, when he’s so relaxed and satisfied.

I move back in my seat and ask, “Where are you from?”

“Oh, so we have reached that point.” He chuckles lightly.

“What point?”

“Where we exchange useless information we don’t really care about,” he explains, keeping a small smirk on his face.

“I do care. And are you always this difficult or only with me?” I cross my arms. Will he ever lower his walls? Or is this going to be a never-ending battle?

“Always,” he deadpans.

“I can’t even feel special.” I snort with displeasure.

“Look, my past is not pretty. Not like yours.” He gestures nervously while he talks.

“Who said mine is?” I turn to face him, annoyed by his suppositions.

He sends me a long, who-are-you-trying-to-fool look.

“Yeah, my family is loaded. But my mother is an alcoholic who prefers to get buzzed with her classy friends than spend time with her only son. She never cared about me. Pretty sure my father paid her to carry out the pregnancy. Not out of the goodness of his heart since he’s an egotistical, narcissistic, money-obsessed, ruthless, scheming dick.” I ball my fists against the anger building inside me as memories of my interactions with him assault me. My chest starts to heave as I continue, “I went to the best schools and am surrounded by the richest people, can have the best things money can buy. Are those things what’s important in life? My life, my future has already been decided. It always has. Is that a pretty picture?” I finish, lowering my eyes to the nails sinking into my jeans.

I begin hyperventilating when Spencer covers one of my hands, lacing our fingers. “I’m sorry to have assumed.” His apology helps. But it’s the understanding I see in his eyes and the words he utters next that slowly calm my breathing.

“I certainly didn’t have what you did. I actually had nothing, not even a roof at one point.” He turns his gaze away. “I found a way out, and I’m not going to throw it away. This is my only chance at a good life.”

In the end, I vomited my life pains while he offered me a little peek at his. And it’s worse than I thought. “I feel like a sorry is needed, but I seem to remember you don’t like a daily dose of that.”

“Fuck no, nor pity.” He sniffs.

“Pity,”I repeat slowly. “I think you’re extraordinary, Spencer. I actually envy you.” I squeeze his fingers to emphasize my words.

“Envy me? Why?” He sounds really confused.

“I have no say in my life. I’m a damn puppet performing a never-ending show. While you are free to do whatever the hell you want. And you’re making the best of it.”

“That’s a bit too extreme.” A small smile curls his lips. “Can’t you talk to your father?” he asks.

I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh. “Not in this life.”

He leans toward me and kisses me. It’s languid and filled with unspoken words. Words both of us can’t deal with right now. After a minute or two, the kiss turns savage. Spencer is unbuttoning his shirt. “Take out that gigantic cock of yours, it’s frotting experimentation time.”

His words don’t even finish to register that I open my pants at light speed, so fast I almost got my very sensitive skin stuck in the zipper. Luckily, I avoid the self-maiming, and after I push my seat all the way back, Spencer straddles my lap. His jasmine scent envelops me as he opens a small bottle of lube—he got it from somewhere, fuck if I know—and pours it on our cocks.

Then he wraps both his hands around our dicks, and ecstasy flares all over my body from the exquisite friction. I slide my hands inside his briefs and grab his bare ass cheeks hard, unable to halt my growl of ecstasy.

Thoughts of the past and future disappear; only the now, only the man on my lap exists.

“Fuck, TJ,” he grunts, sucking on my neck, surely leaving a hickey. The image of his mark on me makes my balls draw up and my heart beat faster.

I’m in trouble. Can’t catch feelings for him. Not when there’s no place for him in my future.