Page 31 of Sweat

Speeding down the sparse highway, I feel a hot palm skate across my thigh, sneaking under the leg of my shorts. My breath hitches along with the shiver rushing down my spine, and I take one hand off the wheel to slap it onto Tommy’s hand.

Holding onto it, I say, “Wait til I park.”

His hand slithers away, and I’m scared I just ruined the only opportunity I’ll get to experience his touch. I’ll have to settle for the Grindr randos, or chance it back at the gay bar, hoping that d-bag, Oscar, won’t be there to wreck my vibe.

When we get back to campus, it’s late enough that there isn’t anyone around, and when I park beside Tommy’s truck, ours’ are two of the only cars in the lot.

Tommy unbuckles his belt quickly, but instead of getting out, he puts his hand back onto his lap, rubbing at his bulge.

I take that hand and move it over the console til it’s rubbing mine instead.

At first, he pets me like a cat, like he isn’t sure what he’s doing, but the fact he’s touching me at all is sign enough that this doesn’t have to end in disaster. Maybe death isn’t so certain. Maybe this can just be a secret thing between us that no one ever has to know about.

I reach over and tug on his waistband.

Tommy takes his hand off me long enough to push his shorts and underwear halfway down his thighs. His cock juts straight up, tapping against his abs. A pale veiny shaft leads to a raginghead, glistening with fluid. It looks hot, and when I wrap my fingers around it, I feel just how hot he is.

I stroke him while I shove my own shorts down my ass, far enough to free my dick to open air. Thank fuck Tommy grips it quickly. I’m already close, and I want him to get me there while I get him there. I stroke him the way I like it, and I swear he’s mimicking everything right back on me. When I squeeze my fingers under his cockhead, he does the same to mine. When I drag my thumb up and down the thick vein under his shaft, he does the same to mine. When I roll my fist over his tip to collect the pre-cum beading from his slit, he does the same to mine.

“Fuck,” I moan, watching my ministrations while reveling in the pleasure his gives me. “Holy fuck, baby boy. Don’t stop.”

Tommy moans through his hard breaths, and he changes the game on me, stroking fast and gripping firm.

“Oh, fuck.” I mimic him this time, finding his pace and pumping him just as quick.

“Row,” he groans. “Row, I’m—” His words become a low, guttural moan before a thick rope of cum ejects from his tip.

The sight does me in. My muscles tense and my eyes roll as I release into Tommy’s large, hot hand. “God, fuck me,” I moan, pressing back against my seat and lifting my hips, chasing more pleasure than I deserve.

Eventually, it’s too much. At the same time that I still my hand around Tommy’s leaking cock, I snatch Tommy’s wrist to keep him from pumping the life out of me.

I come down. The fog clears from my mind slowly. “Shit,” I sigh as I open my eyes. Carelessly, I turn to check on Tommy and find his big blue eyes blinking back at me. His lips are parted, still catching his breath. I look at them and wonderwhat it would feel like to kiss him. But that’s too much. A can of worms I can’t risk opening.

We take our hands off each other, and I pull off my shirt to wipe the fluid off me. I fold it once, then reach over and wipe down Tommy’s body from those projectile shots. Dude comes like a cannon, and his cock is as thick as one.

Why the hell would that Annalese chick need to step out on Tommy and his massive, insatiable cock? If I were Tommy’s girlfriend, I’d never want to leave his bedroom.

That’s not true… I’d want to leave his bedroom, but only to play the game we both love. Together. Maybe even on the same team.

9

Rowan

There’s a jizz stain on my car’s ceiling.Fucking Tommy.I notice it two days after making him come, as I’m sitting in the parking lot closest to the team stadium. I scratch at it with my thumbnail, but it’s going to need a spot treatment or a Tide pen or something.

The dude can really blow. Makes me think that if he ever comes in my mouth, he’ll bust a hole in my throat. But I’m trying not to think about shit like that. I’ve decided that beinggaygay is chill, as long as I’m discrete. Messing around with Tommy is the antithesis of discrete, especially since he’s going to be on the team now, assuming he nails tryout weekend.

I spot Tommy’s truck in my rearview, and I climb out of my car in time to watch him park. He’s exactly fifteen minutes early, aka on time, so we’re off to a good start.

“Don’t be so nervous,” I tell him as I walk him straight to McDonough’s office. Fuck the process. I’m taking my boy straight to the guy who calls the shots around here.

“Trying,” Tommy says, looking like he could faint at any moment.

McDonough’s door is open, and he’s standing behind his desk, shuffling through a sea of loose papers and random tchotchkes. He knocks over a Deadpool figurine trying to get a legal pad out from under his keyboard.

“Coach.” I tap my knuckles on his open door.

His head snaps up, and his face washes with relief. “Good, you’re here. Help me find my whistle.”

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