Page 97 of Bobby Green
He ended the call and rested his forehead against his palm. A week and a half. He didn’t know how Reg or Lance or any of the other guys at Johnnies could deal. He missed his mother in his life so bad his stomach cramped with it.
He heard the creak of footsteps behind him, and warm hands rested on his shoulders. “Your mom?” Reg asked softly.
“I miss her.” The yearning lessened, somehow, now that Reg knew. He felt the hesitant kiss on the top of his head.
“That’s good. Not that you’re sad, but that you have someone to miss.”
Bobby nodded and rested a bandaged hand on top of Reg’s.
“You know,” Reg said softly, his voice a little fractured, “I don’t have the faintest idea what I should do today.”
Bobby smiled and turned around, resting his temple against Reg’s hard-planed stomach. “Go to my place so I can get clothes,” he murmured. “Work out.” He’d already called in to his waiting job. “Go see a movie. Come home and read or watch TV.”
“Mm. Sounds okay. What do we do tomorrow?”
Bobby looked up at him and smiled. “Tomorrow is your scene day. Whatever you want. And the day after that too. But after that?”
Reg looked down at him soberly, hanging on his every word. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to take you apart. I’m going to lay you out on the bed and play with your body until you scream jizz. I’m going to buy things I’ve seen on my phone and use them on you and watch your face as your body forgets it ever knew another cock but mine. And when you are crying from coming out your eyeballs, I’m going to go back and do it all again. ’Cause I have you to myself for a while, Reggie, and I want your body to remember every goddamned minute.”
Reg’s arms convulsed around his head, and he let out a low moan. Bobby’s cock ached fiercely in his shorts, and over the cacophony of his injuries and his heartsickness, that shit felt good.
These months, turning himself into a finely tuned sexual machine, and all the heartache and the uncertainty and the drawbacks that came with the job, and he wanted him and Reg to hit the open bed and see what they could do.
“You suck,” Reg whimpered, bucking fruitlessly against the back of the chair.
“Not today,” Bobby promised darkly. “But soon.”
The Moon
REG’S SCENEwith Lance went really well.
Reg couldn’t explain it—maybe it was because Lance seemed more responsive under his hands, or because his breath—which was usually bright with mints—was a little more subdued but more wholesome. But Lance moved like sex was his drug. Reg topped, and when Lance came, he kissed Reg like Reg was a lifeline, and Reg kissed back the same way.
But when they were done kissing and the scene was over, they both rolled apart and lay panting on the bed, and Reg didn’t feel any need to do the soft touching, the running his hand up and down Lance’s arm or kissing of the shoulder or the neck that Bobby spent so much time doing.
“That was great!” the camera guy said, and Reg squinted at him unhappily. This guy was new—Dex had hired him since John had disappeared—and Reg and Lance had done their jobs like the professionals they were. But Reg had gotten the feeling this guy was freaked-out with pretty much everything they were doing. He just didn’t get close enough to the body parts to be filming real porn.
“Shower scene?” Reg asked, and the guy gave them a blank look.
“I’m thinking that’s a no,” Lance said, popping Reg on the flank. “Let’s go clean up. You doing anything today?”
Reg grunted. He felt energized, not tired like good sex sometimes made him feel, and he wasn’t sure he wanted a quiet day today. “I gotta ask Bobby,” he said. “He was still a little sore this morning. Did I tell you he fell through the fence chasing my sister down the street?”
Lance stared at him. “No. No, you did not. But if he’s up to it, how ’bout call him up and have him meet up for lunch.” He appeared to think about it for a moment. “I’m hungry,” he said, sounding like he was surprised. “I’m hungry, and I want company. How’s that?”
Reg grinned. He didn’t want to think about V. The doctor had called the day before and told them to give her another week in the interim hospital while they got her behavior under control. Reg didn’t know what this meant, but Bobby’s face had darkened when he heard.
“It means she’s in restraints,” Bobby said, like he knew this would hurt but had to say it anyway.
Reg’s chest had frozen, and for a moment he imagined himself in the corner, rocking back and forth like he had as a kid, helpless and terrorized and feeling like somehow he’d brought all this on his own head.
“It’s not your fault,” Bobby had said, maybe reading his mind. “She did this, Bobby. She lied, she pretended to take pills for two months, and she manipulated the doctor. And yeah, she’s sick, but that part—that part she did. She stopped taking her medication when she knows what she does without it. You promised her, baby, but you can’t do it all by yourself, and she wasn’t helping.”
“She’ll take the medication in the health facility,” Reg said, because he couldn’t imagine making the decision that came with that not happening. “Then she can come back here.”
Bobby let out a sigh, and they both let the matter drop, and now Reg was excited. He had a rare free moment—he was going to treat this like a holiday, not the scary beginning of a new way of life.
