by Walker Cole
He grunts something inaudible.
“You’re wallowing,” I say. “Let’s take action.”
“There’s nothing to do,” he says. It’s horrible seeing him like this. I reach under and squeeze his cock and balls. He jumps a bit and says, “Hey.”
“Wake up,” I say, and squeeze his ass, digging my nails in. Colt turns around and shoves me. I grab his face and kiss him. He pushes me off. “You need some tough love, you know that?” I say.
“I’m not in the mood,” he says, and turns around to lean against the shower wall.
I decide to try once more; if he keeps this up, I’ll just leave him here. I stick my fingers in my mouth to get them lubed up. Then I place them against his hole. I just hold them there, completely still. I’m trying to feel him out. He doesn’t respond. He just keeps leaning against the shower wall with his hands on the tile. My index finger and middle finger are right against his asshole. I move them in a very small circle for a while, then I apply some pressure. Colt lets out a moan and stops himself, like he didn’t mean to make any noise at all. I massage harder, and push them in deeper. I don’t push hard enough to open him up, though. I want him to really want it, like I do when he’s making a move on me.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I say.
He doesn’t reply. Have I woken him up?
I squeeze his ass cheeks with my other hand and then reach under to grab his cock and balls. He lets out another short moan. He’s getting hard; his cock is less squidgy now. He really does want me to take him. I plunge one finger inside of him and angle it against his prostate. He reaches back, halfheartedly, to stop me. He’s strong enough to throw me off with a look but he’s not moving a muscle now. He leans back into my finger, and I slide in a second one. “You’re strong,” I tell him. “Don’t forget that.”
I start gently finger-fucking him. I bite at his back and leave a mark. His ass feels amazing inside. My cock is growing and growing. I’ll distract him from everything; that’s what I’ll do.
It’s so much effort to restrain myself. I take my fingers out and get him to spread his legs wide. Colt arches his back, ready to receive me. “Not yet,” I say. Colt is completely giving himself up to me. He breathes heavily but doesn’t say a word. I take my cock and start to rub the head against his ass, real slow. I slide inside of him by just an inch and then take it out. Colt says something, but it was too quiet for me to hear. “What was that?” I ask. “Is there something you want?”
“I want your cock,” he says. And so, I start to slide it inside of him again, this time in a serious way. I hold his hips the way he’s held mine before. Fuck, entering a guy for the first time is the greatest thing.
Before my cock is all the way inside, I start sliding in and out, warming him up for this whole beautifully addicting experience. I don’t know how much practice he has with anal sex, and I don’t want to hurt him. After a minute of this, I plunge it all the way in and he groans. “Yes,” I say. “It’s going to feel real nice cumming inside of you.”
Colt pushes back against me and grinds a little. His back muscles tense up when he moans, and it’s so precious. I reach around to feel how hard he is. It’s thick and fully engorged. I squeeze his cock as I fuck him but don’t jerk it at all. I love it when guys do this to me, it drives me crazy. His ass is so plump and hard that it’s stopping me from getting my cock the whole way in. I’m going to have to be rougher. I hold his hips firmly and start fucking him properly. I reach up and run my fingers over his rock hard nipples. They’re like hard little pebbles. Colt lets out a long moan.
I take Colt’s hand and place it onto his cock. I want him to jerk himself as I fuck him. The next time he masturbates, I want him to think about my cock fucking his ass. His whole body starts to shudder. I can feel my orgasm starting to build. Colt’s ass tenses up when his cock twitches, and it feels amazing. I start to cum inside of him. As I start moaning, he stutters, “I can feel it.” His ass contracts around my cock as he orgasms. We cum in sync. His ass is getting filled as he sprays the shower wall, like I did the very first time.
My orgasm keeps going and I watch his strong body shake as he cums. “Fuck,” I say. He mumbles something. I reach around to touch the head of his cock. It’s slimy with his semen. I get some on my finger and lift it to my mouth. It tastes so sweet. I pull out of Colt and spin him around. He lifts me up and kisses me deeply. I wrap my legs around him as we tongue-fuck each other and we both moan between breaths. His cock is still hard, and I can feel it on the bottom of my ass.
Colt pushes me up against the wall and bites my bottom lip real hard. He’s finally awake now. He’s cummed away the bulk of his stress. He holds the back of my neck, and then his hands move to my face. “I needed that,” he says between kisses.
“I know,” I say.
It got late sometime while we were in the shower. I look out at the city as Colt lies on his back in my bed. He’s still not talking as much as he normally does but it’s an improvement. I lie down next to him and hold his hand. The cars beeping in the street outside seem far away.
* * *
I wake up before Colt and wonder if I should head out to continue checking out the pawnshops. I watch him sleep for a while. His big chest moves up and down real slow, and it’s beautiful. If these photos leak, I’ll probably get some media attention as well. It feels selfish to think about myself, and besides, I’m very open about my sexuality—if only it were acceptable for Colt to be the same.
Colt stretches but keeps his eyes closed. “How long have you been watching me?” he asks.
I laugh, “Not long, I promise.” I spot something on my computer’s newsfeed. How could I forget, there’s a big pride parade today. “How did you sleep?”
“Good,” he says. “My ass feels a little sore.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I say.
Colt gets out of bed and makes himself a coffee. “Do you know how quickly this shit is going to spread on social media?”
“Colt, we don’t even know if it will leak. We’re just having the same conversation over and over."
“Look, let’s be serious about this. There’s a strong chance they will leak. In fact, a similar thing happened this year. Do you remember that celebrity, the one in the indie action movies? One of his cameras got stolen and a whole bunch of photos spread across the internet.”
“I don’t remember that one,” I lie. “This type of thing barely happens. There’s an equal chance that a good Samaritan will find it and return it to us.”
Colt scoffs and rolls his eyes.
I walk over to the window and look down at the street. I don’t know how to help him, but I’ve got to try something. He’s relying on me. “There’s a pride parade today,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” he says, not really listening.
“I think we should go.”
Colt turns around. “Are you kidding me?”
“Look, if the photos are going to get out, you might as well start being you.”
“You’re joking,” he says and turns back around.
“Colt, I’m serious.”
“I can’t go to a pride parade. What if someone sees me?” he asks.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
Colt laughs. “You seriously want me to go?”
“Get dressed. Now,” I say, and go to brush my teeth.
Colt is standing there in a nice blue button-up shirt and shorts. “You ready?” I ask.
“Not even a little bit,” he says. “And this is a bad idea.”
The pride parade is just a few blocks from my house. I’ve only been to two before; both were pretty wild. We can hear the music and the cheering before we get too close. “You nervous? I ask.
“Yeah,” Colt says.
“It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise,” I say, and poke him in the ribs. I reach out and hold his hand. He jerks it away instinctively. �
��Colt, you’re going to hold my hand. Stop being afraid. Or at least stop giving into your fear.” He squeezes it hard and then holds it. We start to become part of a crowd, and there’s bumpy pop music coming out of a few scattered speakers.
The parade is a fenced off street with colorful floats coming down it. Everyone is cheering and shouting. Everyone is dressed crazy or slutty. There are so many bright banners and signs. I look over at Colt occasionally, and he looks bewildered. Welcome to the total opposite of Cold Spring, dude.
A guy in a tank top comes by with a whole bunch of rainbow pride bracelets. He’s giving them out for free. I take one and cheer on the floats. In the corner of my eye, I see Colt take one and put it in his pocket. I know he doesn’t hate who he is, or anyone else for that matter. He’s just a big shy guy, really.
There’s an American football float coming down the procession now. The guys are dressed like slutty football players. One of the banners says that they’re supporting LGBT players who are currently in the closet. Colt cheers for the first time. He’s never been this hot to me before. I give his butt a squeeze. Sometimes, he likes to tense his butt as I’m touching it. It seems like he has control over every muscle in his body. I don’t even know if I can tense my pecs. His musculature gives his lower abs these two lines that point down towards his cock, as if to say, follow me.
Some sporty looking guys are squeezing through the crowd in front of us. One of them sees Colt and stops his group. He points at us, and they start making their way over. I look at Colt, and he seems nervous. “Do you want to run?” I ask.
“No, no,” he says. “It’s fine.”
“Tommy?” Colt asks.
“Yeah,” the dude says. “What’s up man?”
Colt turns to me and says, “I used to coach this kid, last year.”
“I never knew you were pro-gay rights, Coach.”
“Yeah,” Colt says. “I’m here with my friend, Leo,” he says and introduces me.
“Can I get a picture of us?” Tommy asks.
Colt nods and passes Tommy’s camera to me. Colt puts his arm around the guy and they smile.
After they leave, I turn to Colt. “What was that?” I ask.
“What do you mean? I was just being myself. Did I do something wrong?”
“Just surprised me, that’s all.” I smile.
“That guy was one of our best quarterbacks. He got pushed out of the team by the other guys—I think because of his orientation. What a mess,” he says, shaking his head in disdain.
I nod. All this time, I knew Colt had a moral compass.
* * *
The parade winds down, and I take Colt over to the station. He has an evening training session later. “I’m proud of you for today,” I say.
“I thought you might be,” he says as his phone buzzes. “I’ve got an email from that Trevor dude I was talking about. Apparently, I need to go and meet him urgently.”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
“I have no idea what this is about before you ask,” he says. “Maybe the photos leaked?”
I lean my head onto Colt’s shoulder. “We would have heard about it, right? Someone would have called you,” I say. He checks his phone and doesn’t find anything. “Let me know what happens.”
“Damn it,” he says. “I’m not ready for this.” He hugs me.
“You don’t mind hugging me?” I ask. “Here in the station?”
“There are more important things to worry about.”
“We’ll see each other again if the photos break, right?” I ask.
Colt brushes some hair behind my ear. “What do you mean, of course.”
“I just thought, you might want to be with Nancy, for your image.”
Colt gives me a nasty look. “I can’t believe that’s what you think of me.”
“Lot’s of people would, Colt. Don’t pretend like it’s the most unlikely thing for a sports-guy to do,” I say.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“I take it back,” I say. “Okay?”
“Fine,” he says. “I need to go and sort out whatever this is.”
“Good luck.” I see Colt’s butt walk onto the train. He takes a window seat and looks out at me. I wave, and he does a little smile and then looks around for something. He must be under so much stress. He starts reading a newspaper as the train pulls away.
* * *
Colt
I drive straight to training from the station. I plug my phone into the car radio and listen to a message from Nancy. “Where the hell have you been?” it starts. “Someone called from the university, saying they needed to speak to you. I had to lie and say you were visiting friends. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? Not knowing where you are—” I stop the voice message right there.
I drive with my headlights on high beam. The whole way there I don’t pass another car. I can’t remember ever wishing for there to be traffic or a small accident—anything to delay my arrival. These late night training sessions were my idea a few years ago. After studying all day, the student athletes love letting off steam. I also read this sports science study that said that athletes were more likely to remember tactics if they learned them after dark. Wacky, right?
There’s a journalist hanging around outside the school gates. I guess he’s looking for pictures of the players arriving. The media is crazy. I pull up by his car and stick my head out. “Hey,” I say, as he takes a couple of pictures of me. “Any college football news?”
“You got something for me, chief?” the guy asks. He’s young and slim. Inside his car, his laptop has a scrolling twitter feed. If something had leaked, there would be more people than just him out here. So, why the fuck is Trevor trying so hard to reach me?
“Nah,” I say. “Nothing that I can tell you.” I grin and he appreciates the joke.
I change in the back of my car and jog over to the university’s fields. The floodlights are giving everything a bluish glow. “Alright, fall in everyone,” I yell. “We’ve got our first match coming up and we haven’t got many training sessions left.” The players and the coaches stand around, focused on me. “Let’s make this one count. And to all of you with gym assignments, I will have spies reporting to me on whether you complete them or not.” A few people laugh. “Let’s do this.” Everyone does a short cheer.
Someone taps my shoulder and I turn around to see Trevor, the administration’s PR guy. “Hello,” he says. He sticks out on the field in his suit and shiny black shoes.
“Hey, I got your email but what are you doing down here?” I ask.
“You were supposed to come see me. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” He nods his head towards a quiet corner of the grounds. We walk over there slowly.
I try my best to appear confident. “You have one minute. Now, what’s going on?” I ask.
“You worried us. I mean, the university. We were worried, following the meeting that you ran out of.”
“I get it. But how can I help you now?” I say.
“As a precaution, I kept a close eye on the school’s social media tags, and your tags,” he says.
“I didn’t know I had a tag.”
“Hashtag Coach Colt Smith. A few of the players use it,” he says.
“If you’re going to say something, come out and say it.” I cross my arms.
“Were you at a pride parade earlier today?” he asks and takes out a small laptop from his jacket pocket.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” I say as he shows me the picture of Tommy and I that Leo took. It’s tagged: #coachcoltsmith #prideparade #myoldcoach #cooldude #LGBTfootball
My heart rate starts to accelerate.
He continues, “The school has a certain position when it comes to gay rights, and the involvement of staff, who may or may not take certain stances towards gay positions.”
“You’re not making any fucking sen
se,” I say. I want to stay calm, but I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.
“The administration is upset that you attended a pride parade. It’s not the image we want our football coaches to portray.”
“So this is why you called my house as well? I don’t care what the university thinks.”
“I think,” Trevor says, leaning in a little, “that it would be in your best interests to listen to what I’m saying.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask.
“We hope that this kind of thing won’t be an issue moving forward. I have to get going.” Trevor turns away and starts fast-walking across the pitch. His steps are uneven; his flat black shoes are slippery.
Idiot.
Before returning to watch over practice, I jog over to the young journalist’s car. He waves me over and unrolls his window. “What’s up, dude?” he asks.
“I’ve got a story for you,” I say.
He laughs. “Is this on the record?”
“Yes,” I say. He stops kidding around and grabs a small notebook. “I attended a New York pride parade earlier today and the university has just strongly advised—wait, scratch that. They threatened me, telling me not to attend any further events of that particular nature.
“Jesus,” the guy says. “This is an actual scoop. You sure you want me to run this up the chain?”
“Do whatever you want with it,” I say. “If you look me up, you should find a picture of me at the parade.”
“I might not have to lurk outside the grounds for pictures anymore. This story is my promotion. LGBT rights are hot-hot-hot right now.”
“You know what else?” I tell him, as he scribbles down everything I’m saying. “I love Leo.”
He stops writing.
“Who’s Leo?” he asks.
