Page 100 of Bobby Green
But as he grabbed his cock and squeezed, too overwhelmed to even stroke himself off like he’d done since he was a kid, he could feel themoreto this. This thing Bobby was doing to him—this left that thing he’d done in front of the cameras in the rearview. This was all over his body. Bobby had drawn him out, made him beg, pulled the things he needed to the surface of his skin, and thengave him what he needed. Reg was an exposed nerve, and the one person, theonlyperson who could touch him with pleasure, with generosity, was the big country kid behind him, fucking him with the giant dick.
Bobby wrapped an arm around Reg’s chest and kept pumping his hips. Reg could smell him—plain soap, rain in his hair, fabric softener, male skin—and knew suddenly that it wasn’t the dick size, or even the fucking.
It was the man.
He was too far gone to moan or groan or even whimper. His breath wobbled out, and without even another squeeze to his cock, his entire body, from the arches of his feet to his ears, for God’s sake, tensed, a giant ball of painful pleasure, before he snapped hard, like a big rubber band, and came and came and came.
Behind him Bobby groaned loudly in his ear and clenched his arm so tight Reg’s ribs creaked. He bit Reg’s shoulder, the sting of teeth making Reg spurt harder, and gave a gigantic shudder.
Reg could feel him.
Hot come, pulsing inside his body, something he didn’t think would register anymore, given how long he’d whored his ass out for money and kicks.
This was different.
This was a mark, a possession, and as Reg’s eyes fluttered closed and he tried hard not to swoon on the back of his own goddamned couch, he recalled the past two days.
They’d had sex, soft, hands skating, brief climax sex, since Reg’s last scene and the lunch with Lance. Reg had thought sure—Bobby did the jealousy thing once. He was so much smarter than Reg. He didn’t need to lay a claim or mark Reg—he’d grown up.
But now, half fainting, physically exhausted from half an hour of balls-out sex, dripping Bobby’s come from his asshole and coated with his own come all over his hand and his forearm and even his stomach, he realized the truth.
Bobby had been waiting.
Bobby wasn’t more grown-up than Reg. Wasn’t over the jealousy thing. He wasjust likeReg.
He just bided his time better, that was all.
Reg was poured across the back of the couch still when Bobby withdrew, the absence of his body in Reg’s leaving a big ache, a hole, like a missing limb or something. He could have stayed there for hours, come running down his upper thighs, shivering in the sudden cold, but then Bobby did an amazing thing.
He put one arm under Reg’s knees and the other under his shoulders andpicked him up. Like a kid.
“I weigh one sixty, solid,” Reg mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of Bobby’s chest. “Jesus, kid, how much are you benching?”
“More than I was when I moved here,” Bobby said. He put Reg back in the bed they’d left that morning so they could go work out, crawled in after him, and pulled the covers up.
Reg turned into his chest and began to lick the sweat off his pecs and his nipples in a hazy, desultory way. His entire body tingled.
“You were jealous,” he said, surprising himself. “Me, my scene. You been waiting two days to just… just….”
Bobby’s arm lay under his shoulders, and Bobby crushed him against that amazing chest. “Take back what’s mine.”
“How do you do that?” Reg asked. “I’ve been everybody’s boy for so long… how do you just make me… yours?”
He expected Bobby’s laugh, low and filthy, and a crude joke about his member, but that’s not what he got.
“I love you,” he said, blowing Reg’s mind. “I don’t know if any other boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever, has said that, but that’s how I feel.”
Reg couldn’t breathe. Those words? Who said them? Those were wedding words. Engagement and diamond-ring words. Since when did men say those words after screwing around?
He shivered, and Bobby pulled him closer. His eyes stung, no matter how much he squeezed them shut.
“That would make me yours, then,” he croaked.
Bobby dropped a kiss in his hair. “I hope so.”
“How do you say those words?” he asked, feeling stupid in ways he didn’t think he could.
“When you’re ready, you’ll say them,” Bobby said. He sounded a little uncertain, a little sad.
