Page 87 of Bobby Green
“Yeah,” Reg answered, conveniently ignoring the idea of kicking Bobby out of his house so he could work in two days. “That sounds great.”
DINNER WASchicken broth for him and heartier soup for Bobby and V, and their evening found them in front of the television, Bobby and Reg reading, Veronica’s voice rising and falling in response to the news guys, who were preaching to the lost.
They gave V ice cream afterward, but Bobby had a popsicle in solidarity, and then they put V to bed.
Bobby yawned and stretched, smiling sleepily as he stood up and began to turn off lights. He’d bought a nightlight for the bathroom, Reg had noticed, so he didn’t have to leave the kitchen or the porch light on but nobody stubbed their toes in the darkness.
Together they turned for the bed, Reg’s cock a swollen, aching thing in his pants, and he wondered when he was going to tell Bobby to go home, or sleep on the couch, or… oh God. Bobby went into the bedroom first, and all Reg could notice in the shadows was his back.
He’d been doing butterflies and other back exercises, and after he pulled off his sweatshirt, Reg could see the smooth hills and valleys of his distinct muscles under his shirt.
“Wait,” he whispered, thinking if he could just look, he’d be okay. “Just….” Maybe just touch. He lined up along Bobby’s back and wrapped his hands under Bobby’s armpits, tugging on his shoulders so Reg could place a line of kisses.
First along the bare skin of the back of his neck, the touch of his lips to the salt under Bobby’s longish hair sending a charge through Reg’s body straight to the pit of his balls. Oh! He couldn’t just stop!
His tongue flirted with the crew neck of Bobby’s T-shirt, and Reg yanked on it so he had more access to smooth, bare Bobby.
Bobby let out a quick breath. “Reg… what are you doing? I thought you had to—”
“Mine,” Reg whispered, although that was stupid. Bobby had spent two miles in traffic telling Reg about the first guy he’d ever wanted to touch him like this, and it wasn’t Reg.
But that wasn’t what mattered right now. What mattered was Bobby letting his head drop forward, rounding the pretty curve of his spine, making it easier for Reg to plant kisses. Just a few more. Reg tugged the shirt up and spanned his slender waist, rubbed his face against Bobby’s shoulder blade like a cat, before kneading Bobby’s pecs, marveling at how tight and bulky his chest had become in the past few months.
“Reg, uh—” He was going to remind Reg—no sex, not tonight.
“Just more,” Reg begged. He kneaded some, pinching Bobby’s nipples, tugging lightly, wanting to taste but needing the full-body contact right now.
“Nungh!” Bobby bucked, grazing Reg’s erection with his backside, and Reg slid a hand beneath his waistband to pin his hips. There. Right there. Reg bucked up against him, now that he was still, his cock straining through two layers of denim to wedge itself in the crack of Bobby’s ass.
Bobby whimpered a little, twisting his body so Reg’s grip slipped and he could feel the silken tickle of hair.
“You sore?” he whispered. “Sexed out? Sensitive?”
“Not much—ah….”
In Reg’s palm. It needed to be there. Reg gripped it, hard and full, stroking shortly, and Bobby made more helpless sounds. “Reg!”
“I want it back,” Reg told him, sure he wasn’t making any sense but needing to say it anyway. “Never had a mine before.”
He slid around to Bobby’s front, and Bobby stopped him, taking his mouth in a kiss, overwhelming him, his own mouth hot and almost angry, dominating Reg, telling him what was good, what was right about the two of them together.
Reg gave back. He wantedhisback. Someone else had touched it, played with it, done things to it, and Reg never had something good. He wanted this good thing back in his arms, back in his body.
His good thing needed to be outside and inside him, right now.
Bobby groaned and shuddered, his cock spurting a little in Reg’s hand. “Reg, you can’t—”
“My good thing,” Reg muttered. “Mine.” He lowered his head to one of Bobby’s nipples, knowing they were sensitive and needing Bobby to not talk so much and just let Reg do this. His body craved—just—oh, Bobby’s nipple popped in Reg’s mouth, tickled his tongue, and Bobby tugged on the short strands of Reg’s hair.
“Reg… Reg, I’m sort of on a peak, really—”
Reg pulled back reluctantly. “Good,” he breathed and sank to his knees, fumbling only a minute for Bobby’s belt and fly before shucking the whole works down.
Bobby’s cock didn’t so much flop as unfurl, and Reg took it in one hand and stroked while flicking his tongue over the head. Soap and water, even dryer sheets—Bobby’s skin needed to be licked some more before it even tasted like Bobby’s skin again.
Good.
Reg let his mouth fill with spit and slurped hard on the head. Bobby let out a startled cry, and his knees gave a definite wobble.
