Jock Auction Read Online Free Page B

As I peered back over my shoulder, I saw him shrug as best he could while still lying back, the smirk wider.
    “Dude, all down my throat,” he pointed out, and I shrugged back, a shit-eating
    grin plastered across my face. He’d wanted it; I knew that.
    “Can I shower?”
    I won’t lie and say there wasn’t a little voice in the back of my head screaming,
    Whoa, what’s with all the gay stuff? Why aren’t you getting out of there as soon as fucking possible? But I was doing a good job of ignoring it. Ignoring the questions—inevitable, difficult questions—about sexuality and experimentation too. They could probably wait until I didn’t have the rapidly cooling evidence of that experimentation sliding down my back and soaking into my boxers. Craig led me to a family bathroom and pulled out a towel for me, having already tried wiping himself off—not entirely effectively—with an old T-shirt from the floor.
    He started to back out the door when I stopped him. “For fuck’s sake, dude, just
    get cleaned up,” I told him.
    He gave a half-smile; I guess he wasn’t as used to life in the locker room as I’d
    become.
    I pulled off my socks and peeled down my underwear. As I’d guessed, the back
    was streaked with little streams of cream where Craig had pegged me good. I looked over at him as he somewhat awkwardly took off his T-shirt and began to tug down his skinnies.
    He wasn’t as shapeless as I’d figured he would be. Sure, he didn’t have the sort of muscles you’d associate with spending half your waking hours on the football field, but neither was he a sack of loose bones. He just had a very slim torso and, as I saw as he JOCK AUCTION | 19
    managed to extricate his legs from his clinging jeans, slender thighs and calves to match.
    Craig looked self-conscious again when it came to taking off his underwear, a
    simple pair of white briefs. I rolled my eyes at him and got the flash of a blush across his cheekbones in return, but he dropped them all the same. His dick—though I’d
    briefly seen it and of course felt it—was a surprise, hanging meatily from his groin and at odds with the rest of his lean body.
    We stood for a moment looking at each other. I knew my interest was at least
    vaguely scientific—the same sort of locker room comparison all boys did and all boys excuse—and I also knew that Craig was looking at me with probably more specific
    interests, given what he’d told me before. I didn’t really mind, though.
    Cold jizz on your back is cold jizz, though, and after a minute I asked, “So this
    shower, then?”
    He grinned sheepishly, as if knowing he’d been caught, then brushed past me and
    opened the glass door of the sizable shower cubicle. Soon steam was gusting out,
    fogging the broad mirror over the basin, and Craig held out his hand, waiter-style, as if to say, After you, sir.
    I didn’t hold back, ducking into the hot water and letting it thunder across my
    scalp and shoulders. I was dimly aware of Craig stepping in behind me and shutting the door, but there was space enough for us both to stand without touching. I knew he’d be getting cold, though, and so with only a little reluctance offered up my place under the showerhead.
    He tentatively took it, being cautious to flatten himself almost comically to the
    wall so that we could switch without him brushing against me. I rolled my eyes again; considering what had happened just a few minutes before, I couldn’t quite see a reason for his shyness. Instead, I busied myself with a handful of soap, lathering first my hair and then the rest of me.
    20|ALEX PENDRAGON
    It was only as I was running sudsy hands between my thighs that I realized he
    was watching me again. Trying to be inconspicuous in the running water but at the
    same time very obviously staring as I scrubbed around my crotch. I paused, looked up, and was rewarded with a blush so strong it was clearly visible despite his skin’s flush from the heat of the water.