Sweat trickled off Rodney’s fevered skin. He lay on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breath. Tonya twisted onto her stomach beside him and propped on her elbows.
“Why did you want to ass fuck?” she asked with a twinge of annoyance. “It doesn’t really feel that good.”
“It’s tighter,” he mumbled dully. “Feels good to me.”
He could sense her eye-roll without looking at her. “My pussy isn’t tight enough?”
“As much as it’s been pounded—no.”
“Fuck you,” she muttered. “It’s plenty tight. Never had any complaints before.”
Rodney sighed. “Couldn’t get your boyfriend hard.”
“Hey,” she snapped. “It’s not my fault he turned into a fucking fag.”
Rodney shrugged. “Maybe it is.”
“You’re a dick.” She crawled off the bed. “I’m using your shower.” Without waiting for his reply, she walked into the adjoining bathroom naked and closed the door. The shower came on a few seconds later.
He looked at the bathroom door. You’re a dick. On that, she was right. He looked at the ceiling again as the earlier events of the day replayed through his head. His jaw still hurt like a fucker; he would’ve never thought Cassiter could hit so fucking hard. More shocking than that was the fact that he’d come to the queer’s rescue in front of all his friends. If Rodney had had any lingering doubts concerning Cassiter’s whereabouts last night—they vanished in that instant. He and the faggot were fucking for sure.
You know Todd’s getting it on, too, with the fag bartender. When Tonya first told him what she’d overheard, he’d had his doubts that she was telling the truth. But coming upon Todd and the bartender in the hallway last night had eradicated those doubts as well.
Why does it fucking matter? The bartender was right—it was over. In the past. Maybe he should take the faggot’s advice and just forget about it. Did he want Todd to remember? And then what—have him start telling his version of what happened?
You mean the truth?
The truth. The truth was—Rodney had been nearly as drunk as Todd at that party; how much of what he remembered…was right? There were gaps, like a film reel with pieces cut out, so the viewer had to figure out for themselves—based on the before and after events—what happened between segments. Rodney had filled in the blanks with the logical “building blocks” and the resulting version made sense. As much sense as the events of that night could make. Witnessing Todd’s flirtatious behavior with the waiter had been mildly shocking, yet upon reflection wasn’t all that surprising. Rodney had noticed Todd’s extreme defensiveness of Lane Cassiter, his almost intimate friendship with him, and had wondered on more than one occasion if the two had a closeted romance going on—even though Todd was dating a totally hot-as-hell chick.
The sound of the shower slowly pushed through his thoughts and Rodney lowered his eyes to the bathroom door. Nothing about the woman seemed appealing to him now. Just yesterday, sex with her had been hot and wild, exhilarating even. So, what had changed between then and now?
The answer troubled him; she wasn’t Todd’s girlfriend anymore.
So, the thrill was in screwing another guy’s girlfriend?
He wished that was it.
Rodney thought about this last “session” with her. Although he had come—and come hard—he didn’t feel satisfied. And he should have, generally speaking. Tonya was one of the hottest, sexiest women he’d met, and he’d met a hell of a lot of hot, sexy women during his skiing career. But with each one that he’d taken to bed, the after-effects were consistently reminiscent of this. And it had nothing to do with their performance between the sheets; he’d laid some very talented women.
His orgasm today was stronger than usual, but it had nothing to do with Tonya’s ‘talents’. It was because of who you were pretending to fuck. Rodney ground the heels of his palms into his eyes and released a hard breath. He shouldn’t have come to Winterhaven. It had simply been an option for him, one which he should have passed up. It had been a breeze convincing himself that he came here to mess with Lane, throw him off his game, then kick his ass on the slopes. But he knew that Lane’s regulars always accompanied him to Winterhaven each year. Among those regulars; Todd…and Darren.
Maybe his true intention was to figure out if Todd remembered anything about the Hampton party…possibly remembered some of the “gaps” that were lost to Rodney. Darren had been at that party, too. Looking right through you like you didn’t fucking exist. Rodney wasn’t sure just when he and Darren stopped being friends, all he knew was that it had been after Frederick’s death. Like everyone else, Darren had favored Frederick. They were the true friends. Maybe Rodney and Darren had never really been friends. And once Frederick was gone, there had been no reason for Darren to hang around.
Rodney shoved his head down into the pillow and pressed his palms to his brow. What the fuck difference did it make? He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut—and was throttled with distorted images from Hampton party; Todd and the waiter…Darren and-
The bathroom door opened, and Tonya walked into the bedroom naked, drying her hair with a towel. Rodney didn’t speak to her and hoped she would just dress and get the hell out. No such luck.
“I wonder if Jude and Darren and the others are starting to put it together?” Tonya said as she pulled on her thong panties.
Groaning, Rodney mumbled, “Putting what together?”
“What the hell do you think?” She scooped up her bra. “That Todd and Lane are total queers. I mean, Lane straight up defended his boyfriend right in front of them. Don’t you think they’d find that kind of odd, that he’d defend him? After the way he always treated him? They have to know something is up.”
She fastened the front clasp of her bra and paused, staring at him. “What did you mean by the stuff you said to Darren?” She smiled and crawled onto the end of the bed, her voice lowering with glee. “Do you know something about him? Does he have fag tendencies, too? Because to be honest, I’ve always kind of wondered about him. As hot as he is, I’ve hardly ever seen him with a girl. Do you think-”
“I was just fucking with him,” Rodney muttered tightly. “There wasn’t anything to it. So, don’t even fucking go there.”
Tonya sat back and stared at him skeptically. “Now who’s being defensive?” She climbed off the bed and finished dressing. “Maybe I’m starting to see why you were so eager to ass-fuck me.”
“Get the fuck out,” Rodney said. “And stay out.”
With an accumulated group of volunteers which included Drew, Todd, and Todd’s friends, the center of the lounge floor was cleared, and the tables arranged around the perimeter. One of the pool tables were moved from the billiard room and brought out into the lounge. Todd had insisted that Lane sit it out and not injure his hand further by lugging around tables. Drew had been in complete agreement and ordered Nolan to refrain as well.
“You’d think we were invalids,” Lane mumbled as he and Nolan sat at the bar watching a group of the guys haul the pool table to the center of the floor. Lane looked at his hand. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Nolan smiled doubtfully. “Make a fist.”
Nodding, Lane flexed his fingers and winced.
“That’s what I thought.” Nolan picked up the ice pack off the bar. “Give me your hand.”
Lane hesitated and glanced out across the room, then at Nolan. He lifted his hand, and Nolan slid his palm underneath it and pressed the ice pack to the top.
“Afraid someone will think we’re holding hands?” Nolan murmured.
“No, I…” Lane sighed and shrugged. “Maybe,” he mumbled, lowering his eyes. “Sorry.”
Nolan gently rubbed his palm against Lane’s. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be sorry. Only you can decide when, or if, you’ll become comfortable with this. I know it isn’t easy for you.”
Looking up, Lane whispered, “I wish it were.”
“Yeah.” Nolan gazed at him. “But life’s a bitch, if it was a slut…it would be easy.” He smiled.
“Shit,” Lane laughed softly. “No doubt.” Nolan’s simple understanding of reality as it pertained to someone like Lane put Lane at ease. Despite the things that had happened between them, Nolan was aware that this was a difficult transition for Lane.
“Where are you going after you leave here?” Nolan asked quietly. “Do you have another tournament right away?”
“No.” Lane could see the uncertainty in Nolan’s eyes; he was afraid all this would end once Lane left Winterhaven. Would it? Lane didn’t know what it would be like out there, if he could maintain this course or if it would become too stressful and he would just revert back to who everyone expected him to be. “I don’t have another tournament for almost a month. I’ll be back at college during that time.”
“Do you and Todd and the others all go to the same college?”
“Yeah,” Lane said. “Do you go to college?”
Nolan shrugged. “I’m taking a few random classes.”
“What kind of career do you want?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I like to work with my hands. Create things.”
“Like an artist?”
“I guess,” he said. “I like making things out of wood.” Nolan chuckled. “I guess that’s more of a hobby than a career, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Lane smiled. “I’m sure a lot of people make a good living at it. What do your parents think about it? Do they want you to go for a traditional career?”
Nolan laughed. “Trust me, there’s nothing traditional about my dads. They don’t equate money with success. They always say that being rich doesn’t make you successful, it just means you make a lot of money. They say that a truly successful person is one who makes a career out of doing what they love, whether or not they get rich from it. Being happy is being successful.”
“I like that,” Lane murmured. “You must have had an awesome childhood, growing up with parents like that.”
“I did,” Nolan smiled. “The best.”
Lane pressed his palm against Nolan’s hand. “I hope you know how lucky you really are to have parents like that.”
“I do,” Nolan whispered. “I’ve never taken them for granted.”
“Good.” Lane swallowed and looked down at his hand cradled between both of Nolan’s. “The first time I fought back against my brothers,” he murmured. “I cracked one of them in the jaw. Sprained my hand. My dad got pissed when I complained about it hurting so bad and made me punch a bag of sand until I toughened up. My whole hand, wrist, and forearm swelled up. I thought it was broken. Sure as shit felt that way. But I didn’t complain anymore.” Lane looked up. Tears glossed Nolan’s eyes. “It feels good to be cared for.”
Clearing his throat, Nolan stepped off the stool. “Come with me,” he said quietly, an uneven hitch to his voice. “We should…” he licked his lips. “…get you a fresh ice pack.”
Lane’s pulse began to climb at an accelerated rate, fueled by the look in Nolan’s eyes. Lane nodded and stood up, then followed Nolan into the back room behind the bar.
As soon as the swinging door settled closed behind them, Nolan wrapped his arms around Lane’s waist and kissed him. The tender passion pouring from Nolan into Lane made his insides quiver and tremble, and heart race wildly. His knees went weak and Lane sank against the wall, his fingers diving into Nolan’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
© Copyright 2017 AMS1971. All rights reserved.
Book / Erotica
Book / Gay and Lesbian
Book / Gay and Lesbian