by Sarina Bowen
After a minute, he did.
Cax is a leftie, and I’m not, so our elbows bumped once. Twice. The darkness and my arousal made me bold. I moved my upper arm so that it brushed against his, skin to skin.
He leaned into my touch, and I held my breath for several beats of my heart.
Now, years later, it was hard to imagine that I’d been brave enough to take it further. But lust is one hell of a powerful drug.
Slowly, I’d rolled onto my side, facing him. I’d shoved my boxers down all the way, then grabbed his working wrist with my free hand. I waited to see if he’d yank it out of my grasp. But he didn’t. So I slid my palm down until my hand covered his. Then I gave it a squeeze. In my mind, I was almost touching his dick.
He gasped, and again I waited for the panicked withdrawal. Instead, he began to stroke himself in earnest, with my hand there as back-up. When he rolled to face me, I got even braver. I knocked his hand away and took his hard dick in my hand.
“Fuck,” he whispered in the dark.
The word gave me heart palpitations. But I didn’t let go. He was so hot and sturdy in my grip. I loved touching him. It was the highlight of my horny teenage years. I took a chance and swiped my thumb over his cockhead, and he hissed.
Damn, the sound of him just made me crazy. I wanted more. I wanted as much as I could possibly have.
With a low moan, I inched closer, my left hand jacking him. I felt one of his hands land on my chest, heavy and warm. I grabbed it and moved it immediately onto my aching cock.
Cax sucked in his breath when he first touched me. I was terrified he was going to stop this. Stop me.
But that’s not what happened. With a groan, he slid his hand down my length and lovingly fingered my balls. My heart seized up with surprise. Then he used both hands to jack me off—one cupping my balls, and one to slide up every aching inch of my dick and over the too-sensitive head.
The only sounds in the tent were our fast, shaky breaths. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once. I was on fire. I gave my hips a snap, fucking his fist, and he let out a quiet little moan.
“Fuck,” he whispered again. But his voice was full of awe, not fear.
Rocking my hips like crazy, I chased my bliss. And thirty seconds later I came like a fountain. One second after that, he did, too.
Then there was only panting and guilt as we wordlessly and in vain tried to wipe spooge off ourselves and our sleeping bags.
We didn’t say a word to each other, which should have been weird. But oddly enough, I slept quite well after that.
The next morning, we didn’t speak about it, or even make eye contact. I wanted to reassure him, but I was afraid. We went to breakfast and sat beside each other without comment. There was hiking. There was swimming. We did all of this without discussion.
But after lunch we were assigned “reflective time.” Following the buddy system, we were sent into the woods, two by two, to sit quietly and reflect on the subject of heavenly love.
Nobody thought it weird that Cax and I were buddies. We’d been partnering up on this stuff for years.
That day would be the very last time we were together, but as we walked into the woods, I hadn’t any clue. We followed first one path and then another, until everyone had fanned out completely. Cax and I didn’t stop until there was nobody else in sight. And then Cax led the way over to a rounded, flattened rock, where he sat down.
Without asking for permission, I sat beside him. I couldn’t go home tomorrow with this silence between us. I knew I needed to man up and say something.
But he beat me to it. “Well,” he whispered.
“Well,” I echoed.
“That was…nuts.”
My response was to snort loudly and embarrassingly. Because nuts.
He got the joke, too. Then we were just two sixteen-year-old idiots laughing into our hands.
Eventually I got control of myself. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
His eyes shifted nervously. When he spoke again, it was almost too soft for me to hear. “But I liked it.”
Hearing that should have made me giddy, but his face was so fearful. So, being a good friend, I tried to let him off the hook. “So did I. But blowing a load is always likable.”
He gave his chin a short-tempered shake. “No, I really liked it.”
My heart palpitations started up again. “Like, enough to do it again?”
He kept his eyes on his shoes. “Yeah.”
Nobody had ever made me as happy as he did right then. That’s the only explanation for how stupid I was immediately afterward.
First, I let out a shaky, disbelieving breath. Then I reached over and palmed his chest, right over his heart.
He looked up at me with fearful eyes, and I didn’t know what to do. Here I had all this joy, and he was afraid of how he felt.
I raised my hand up to brush a thumb across his cheekbone. “Don’t be sad.”
He gave a long, slow blink. Once again, we were too close to each other for me to ignore my feelings. I leaned forward just a couple of degrees.
Cax matched it.
And then I kissed him. It was the first time I’d really kissed anyone. So the shock of his lips against mine was almost too much. I’m sure I moaned. He leaned in, his lips parting beneath mine. I slipped my tongue inside.
Heaven. He tasted of everything I ever wanted. His tongue slid warm and wet across mine, and I wrapped my arms around him to get as close as I could.
We kissed and then kissed some more. And because we were horny teens, our hands began to wander until we were rubbing each other through our shorts.
It was just too amazing. Too much. Too consuming to hear the approaching footsteps on the path.
But I did hear the angry gasp of the pastor who’d found us. And the rough sound of his voice when he demanded that we stop that instant and follow him back to the camp office.
Cax didn’t look at me at all on the walk back. That’s how I realized how badly I’d fucked up.
“This is a church camp,” the deacon said over and over when they’d put us in separate rooms to dress us down. “You have sinned against God and made a mockery of our mission.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. But what I really meant was, Please don’t be awful to Cax.
It wasn’t until years later that I’d realized I’d had no need to cower—that I might have argued when the pastor called me a sinner. How dare he shame me over some kisses? Even worse—I hadn’t had to let Cax go without saying how I felt. I could have grabbed Cax’s hand and told him how important he was to me.
But I hadn’t done any of those things.
Instead, I’d let the man lead me back to the office, where he separated me from the best person in my life and called our parents.
It wasn’t until much later that I remembered the last thing I’d said to Cax. Don’t be sad.
But after that day, I definitely was.
Chapter Six
Axel
Since spotting Caxton at the basketball game, I’d become more conscious of the fact that I might run into him just anywhere. I began to look for him when I crossed the quad or when I was standing in line at the coffee shop.
It took a while until we bumped into each other, though.
One of the nice things about working for Barmuth College was the fancy-ass gym. Renovated a couple of years ago, the place was practically a temple to fitness. There were row upon row of cardio machines and a well-stocked weight room. Other offerings included an Olympic-size swimming pool and courts for basketball, squash and tennis.
Since I had no social life, it made the most sense for me to go to the gym after work. Fridays were my favorite—the undergraduates were off eating dinner or making their weekend plans. The gym was gloriously empty.
The Friday after I’d seen Cax at the game, I decided to run two fast miles on the treadmill to warm up. I needed the workout. I needed the flex and tug on my muscles a
nd to blow off some steam with my pounding feet. Work was going fine, for the most part. But I was still the new guy, which was never easy. And I was lonely as all hell.
After some stretching, I found a vacant leg press and loaded it up with plates. Sliding onto the seat, I tightened my abs and pushed. The foot-piece moved with the ease of a well-maintained machine, which was how I felt, too. Exercise was like therapy. A good workout always cleared my head.
I was three sets in when, in my peripheral vision, an attractive set of back muscles clenched as some fabulous creature pressed a bar over his head. I wasn’t there to stare at guys, but what I saw pulled me in. Sandy-brown hair. Broad shoulders. Gorgeous biceps tensed against the sleeves of his T-shirt. Yum. There was something very familiar about his stance, so I turned my chin for a better look.
My heart lurched when I realized who I was looking at. Cax.
I turned away again to try to get a grip on myself. I wanted to talk to him so badly. But after the basketball game, he’d disappeared immediately—a bad sign. Then again, I’d probably given him a shock.
I’d spent the last week wondering what kind of a life he was living now. He’d been at the game with a woman. His wife, maybe? Kids had been seated with him, too—but they were too old to be his kids.
I’d been turning this over and over in my mind. Maybe our time together had only been experimentation for him. Perhaps he was a straight, married man who didn’t want any kind of reminder that he’d once hooked up with a dude, even if we’d been kids ourselves at the time.
But even if that’s how things were, I still wanted to say hello. I’d never embarrass him with tales of our teenage years. Maybe I needed a chance to say that.
With a tilt of my chin, I looked in his direction again. And caught him watching me.
Here goes nothing.
I slid off the leg press, gave it a quick wipe with my towel, and headed across the weightlifting area to where he stood near the squat rack. His eyes widened as I approached. He looked fearful.
Shit.
“Hi,” I said in a friendly tone.
He hesitated for a beat. “Hi.”
We stared at each other for a second. “Look,” I said. “I know it’s weird. But this is a really small town. I just moved here.”
His gaze dropped to the floor.
Jeez. I talked fast so I wouldn’t chicken out. “I don’t have any idea what you’re thinking. But we have two choices. We can pretend we were never childhood friends. Or we can go out for a beer and catch up. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
When he raised his eyes to mine again, there was so much panic there that my heart gave a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“For what?” Was he trying to tell me that we couldn’t even have a beer together? Really?
“For, uh…” He looked over both shoulders, as if he were checking for eavesdroppers. And I had to hold in my sigh. “I guess we do need to catch up on a few things.”
“Okay. How about Bruisers? It’s the only bar I’ve been to yet.” Boz had taken me there the other night, and I’d found it to be a laid-back sports bar.
He licked his lips nervously, drawing my attention to his mouth. “I don’t… I’m not sure Bruisers is a good idea.”
Ouch. My old friend was either paranoid or embarrassed to be seen with me. He couldn’t be seen having a drink with a potentially gay man? Yikes. I felt a little surge of anger. My next suggestion flew out before I had time to think about it. I’m pretty sure I made it just to challenge him. “Okay. My place then? Tomorrow night? Seven?”
He swallowed hard. “Where is that?”
Honestly, I hadn’t expected him to take me up on the offer, and it was possible he didn’t plan to follow through. He might blow me off. “I live at the end of Newbury Street just as it dead-ends into the park. The house is an old white one with a wrap-around porch. You can’t miss it. But I live in the apartment over the garage.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
“If you need my number, I’m in the employee directory. Athletic department.”
He nodded. “I’ll find you.”
I really hoped he would. And wasn’t that pathetic? “Actually, come hungry tomorrow—I’ll make dinner. You bring a bottle of whatever you like to drink.”
“Good plan. I will.”
I didn’t know whether Cax drank or not. There were so many things I didn’t know about him. I wondered if that would change. “See you tomorrow at seven.”
I walked away before he could reconsider.
Chapter Seven
Cax
I had never been so nervous about anything. Ever.
Apparently, a case of nerves turned me into a vain person. I showered and shaved more carefully than ever. And then? I spent half an hour trying on shirts and staring into the inadequate mirror on the back of my tiny closet’s door. It was a total waste of time, since I ended up wearing the one I’d put on first.
Ridiculous.
Axel and I had shared a short and horribly stilted conversation at the gym last night. I’d sounded like the world’s biggest asshole. And it was all because of nerves.
Nobody had meant more to my young life than Axel. Nobody. I’m sure I never told him that.
Growing up in my father’s house hadn’t been fun. Mr. Military Man didn’t tolerate weakness of any kind. His favorite put-downs were faggot and pussy. In his eyes, any small failure meant you were one or the other. Or maybe both.
Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. He pushed me to go out for football, but I couldn’t hack it. Never liked it. But it was years before he’d let me quit. And since my father had been tight with the jackass football coach at my private school, my dad’s influence and disapproval seemed to pour into every corner of my life.
Church retreats had been different.
The church was my mother’s domain, and it had made her happy to see me involved there. And since my father could hardly argue against holiness, my interest in the youth group had been above reproach.
Axel had been my truest friend, and the only person in my life who I ever allowed to see my weaknesses. Since he wasn’t part of my painful life at school, he didn’t know I was bullied. He didn’t care if I couldn’t throw a spiral.
The reason I played basketball with him was because he made it fun. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t very good at it—not at the beginning, anyway. Axel didn’t give a damn whether I was a worthy opponent. He always wore a smile while he was holding that ball.
His enthusiasm had been contagious. And I swear that my new-found ability to play hoops had saved me from more of my father’s wrath. The sport was almost manly enough for him. He’d let me switch to basketball when I was thirteen. And since I wasn’t completely hopeless at it—thanks to Axel—he’d decided it was good enough.
Axel had walked into my life holding a basketball when I was eight. And without even knowing it, he’d made my life at home more bearable.
I’d known I was gay at a very early age, well before I knew what the word “gay” meant. I think I’d been around ten when I’d first realized I wanted to kiss Axel. Or the actor Elijah Wood. One or the other.
By the time we were teens, Axel had become everything to me. My friend. My savior. My crush. I’d kept that last bit to myself, but not because Axel would be horrified. Somehow I knew in my gut that he liked me, too. But telling him my feelings—or acting on them—had never been an option.
When we’d been sixteen, for one shocking and glorious day I’d had everything I’d ever wanted. That day in the woods Axel had said, “Don’t be sad.” I’d wanted Axel more than I’d wanted my next breath, but, even then, I’d known it wouldn’t last.
I’d been proven right about five minutes later. And after that awful moment of discovery, I’d done what I’d needed to survive. My father had kept one of his army boots firmly planted in my back all the way through high school. He would rant against “homos” and “faggots,” and I knew his spee
ches were directed at me.
So was his violence.
My friendship with Axel had been collateral damage. I’d turned my back on him to save myself, and I owed him an explanation. No wonder I was nervous about this dinner. The tension was killing me.
I left for his place a few minutes early just because I couldn’t stand it anymore.
The walk to Axel’s house made me feel even nuttier. I didn’t drive, because I was too paranoid about someone spotting my car in his driveway. A driveway at the end of a dead-end street. That was crazy even for me. I was an adult who was free to have dinner with anybody on the planet. And Axel and I were going to be friends, nothing else. But I felt so transparent when it came to him. Like anyone could look right through me and see how I felt about him.
How I’d once felt about him. A lot of time had passed.
Walking the edge of College Park to get to his street, I realized there was probably a shortcut through the woods. But I’d been practically speed-walking, and I needed to slow my pace or I’d arrive at his place unfashionably early.
The street brought me to an interesting old house with wooden clapboards. Axel had said he lived over the garage, so I started up the driveway. My progress was halted by someone on the house’s front porch. “Hey, Professor Williams!”
Joshua Royce stood in the glow of the porch light. He was a student in the History of Agricultural Economics course where I was a teaching assistant.
Somehow I found my voice. “Joshua. Evening.” My neck got hot. “This is your house? I was just…” having a panic attack.
“Yep, we bought this place a few months ago.” He leaned over a stack of firewood and collected an armload of wood. “Visiting Axel?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, trying to make it sound like no big thing.
“Cool.” He gave me a funny smile. “Glad he’s making friends already. Have a nice night!” He turned and went back into the house.
I stood there for a minute in the dark, wondering what the hell had just happened. This was exactly why I needed to stay the hell away from Axel. My feet itched to turn around and retreat. But before I could take a step, a door swung open in the building next to the house. Light spilled over the stairs leading to what looked like the garage’s second floor. “Cax?”
