Page 42 of Sweat

“Please,” I pant, pushing gently on the back of Rowan’s head.

He opens his mouth and sinks down onto me again, surrounding me with his wet heat. He bobs faster, sucking harder, tongue caressing me firmer.

I come whimpering, but I don’t care. When I’m hooking up with a man, I figure it’s okay to let my softness out from time to time.

Like every time Rowan goes down on me, he chokes my cum down his throat before pulling off. Maybe it’s because he’s the first person to swallow for me, but the naïve part of me romanticizes the action. Makes me feel like Rowan wants some of me with him after we part ways. It’s also just sexy as hell.

Everything about Rowan is sexy as hell, even when he taunts and teases me and infantilizes me with a wicked smile on his face.

“Where did you learn to suck cock like that?” I ask as my body melts to my seat. It’s a compliment more than a question, and as soon as I ask it, I realize I don’t really want the answer. I know Rowan has hooked up with women, but I’m not sure I can handle hearing about him hooking up with other men when he’s the only man I’ve done anything with.

Shifting back into his seat, Rowan says, “I dunno. Porn, I guess.”

I laugh, finding more comfort in that answer than any of the alternatives. “Gay porn?”

Rowan doesn’t answer. Just stares at me, running his eyes over my body and my cock that softens on my pelvis. Takes mea few seconds to realize I spoke the forbidden word aloud. No one ever saidgayis forbidden, but it seems to be a word Rowan doesn’t enjoy being associated with.

It’s hard for me to believe any man who loves giving blowjobs as much as Rowan does can convince himself he’s straight, but what do I know? Rowan is a steel vault that seldom opens, and when he does, it’s usually related to soccer or our dicks. For all I know, Rowan is a straight arrow who only bends for me. He did tell Coach I’m special, butthatspecial?

To ease the tension, I reach over and palm Rowan’s bulge. “Your turn,” I tell him and watch his smirk reappear.

11

Tommy

The Friday smack in the middle of July, Coach tells me to move my stuff to a locker among the second stringers and that I’ll be scrimmaging with them against the starters on Monday. First thing I do, even before moving lockers, is find Rowan at his and tell him we did it.

Not sure what I expect, but I’m a little disappointed when his reaction is to tell me, “This is just one more step. We still got a lot of work to do,” between chugs of Gatorade.

Some of the other guys overheard and were much more enthused. I get pats on the back from the Thursday night scrimmage crew, and my Johnson buddy, Malik, says he’ll buy me a beer tonight. That prompts Levi to say there’s a party going on tonight at his girlfriend’s best friend’s house. Some girl on the golf team with rich parents who left her unbridled access to the house while they’re out of town.

“You in?” Levi asks, meeting me eye to eye with his typical macho intensity.

There are a lot of reasons going to a party tonight is not a good idea, but they elude me now, and I end up looking to Rowan to fill in the gaps. But he just stares at me with his own subliminal sort of intensity.

“Awe,” Levi coos as he slings an arm around Rowan’s neck in an annoying, brotherly sort of way. “You need permissionfrom your butt buddy over here? Please, Mister Hughes, can Tommy come out and play?”

While my instinct would be to shove Levi against the lockers and tell him to eat a dick, Rowan flashes a charming grin and laughs.

“You keep partying while Tommy’s training, and you’ll be out of a job come August,” Rowan teases his friend.

“What a relief!” Levi chortles. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to usurp my throne? So many have tried, but none have succeeded. I could use a break. It’s exhausting being this naturally gifted.”

“So whatcha say, Tyson?” Raisel asks as he slaps a hand on my shoulder. “You in?”

Looking between him, Levi, and Rowan, I can’t think of anything to do besides shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.” Levi releases Rowan to point an earnest finger right at him. “Captain is the designated driver. He’ll pick us up.”

The last party I went to was with Lese, and it sucked. She kept slipping away to the bathroom with her girlfriends, even after I told her to cool it with the coke. She called me a party-pooper, and on the drive home, she went on a whole diatribe about how lucky I am that she stayed with me after high school. If I wasn’t such a loser, I would’ve dumped her that night, but it took until she fucked around with Rowan for me to commit.

I wonder how many beers it would take for me to gather up enough courage to pull Rowan into a walk-in closet and eat his dick. Oral is a far cry from fucking, but it’s close enough that it feels like a significant threshold in my sexual awakening, and the more I want to cross that threshold, the harder it is to pull the trigger. At the heart of it, I just don’t want to give Rowan trash head.

Not sure what to wear, I settle on something I think Rowan might like me in. He likes my body, so I wear fitted jeans and a two-year-old henley shirt that suddenly fits me again, just barely.

Rowan

Otw

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