Poster Boy

by Anne Tenino

  That was his introduction to exactly what “rubbing off” on someone really was. Before, he’d figured it was a poor substitute for fucking, but he understood after that why he’d want to do it again, although not with just anyone. Because it was almost more intimate than fucking, and he couldn’t imagine letting anyone but Toby grip the back of his skull and control the movement of his head so he’d be in just the right position, unable to end the kiss until Toby allowed it.

  Maybe that kind of closeness was enough for Toby, and Jock would never have to sacrifice his virgin ass.

  Jock pretty much moved into the cabanon with Toby. By the end of his first week or so of spending every night there, he’d brought over everything but his clothes—there just wasn’t enough room to keep them there, at least not more than a few things. Whatever he planned to wear the next morning.

  It wasn’t until the day Noah asked him, “Don’t you want some of your own space, dude?” that it hit Jock that maybe he should have asked Toby how he felt about it before unpacking his toothbrush, package of razors, laptop, and textbooks on that counter built into the wall. But by the third day of hanging out with Toby while they both did schoolwork in the evening, or hanging out by the pool with the guys (which was closer to Toby’s place than Jock’s room) and leaving EuroTAG after dinner with Toby for bed, it had seemed stupid to not just keep his stuff there. It had seemed like a practicality, not moving in.

  But he didn’t want to pack his stuff back.

  “Um, I think I’ll do my homework up at the house,” he told Toby Thursday when they returned from campus. The dude was sitting on one of those iron chairs in front of the cabin, alternately typing like crazy on his laptop, or chewing on the pen he’d stuck in his mouth while staring at the screen. Every once in a while he’d run his fingers through his hair, yanking on it, stretching his skin, until it looked like he was trying to give himself a facelift. Then he’d drop his hands and sigh, or even motorboat his lips.

  “Toby?” Jock asked when he didn’t respond.

  “Wha’?” Toby jerked his head up, blinking. If he were a cartoon, his irises would be swirling spirals of “I’m not really paying attention.”

  He’d probably be happier if Jock wasn’t around distracting him from working on his paper. Toby’d told him last night he was going to start editing it today. Which was apparently more than the spell-check thing he did when he edited. “I said I’m going up to the house.”

  “Oh.” Toby nodded vacantly. “’Kay.” He turned back to his computer. “I’ll see you later.”

  Jock had expected a little more of a farewell. Maybe a kiss, or one of those looks Toby gave him sometimes when they were around a bunch of people and they couldn’t touch. Asking when he’d be back would have been cool. Jock nearly said something, but that’d be pathetic, so he turned and walked toward the house.

  “You’re in a fucking foul mood,” Noah told him an hour later, when he came into their room to put on swim trunks. Jock had pretty much done nothing but glare at him whenever Noah spoke. His excuse was that he was reading their assigned section of the history text and he needed to concentrate. He might’ve believed that himself if he could remember any of the last four pages that it had taken him forty-five minutes to get through.

  Noah was either stupid or had a death wish, because he didn’t shut up after Jock growled at him.

  “What’s’a matter, Toby didn’t put out today?”

  Jock was off the bed and halfway to Noah before he realized he was about to punch the dude. He halted so fast he swayed, staring at his roommate, trying to figure out how something that minor could make him this mad. When he was in the rink, he’d been famous for keeping a cool head. He hardly ever overreacted to trash talk, and those guys could sling some serious shit. What Noah had said was nothing, but Jock was ready to break his nose for it.

  “Um, dude?” Noah interrupted his thoughts. He had his trunks on and a towel over his shoulder, watching Jock carefully, his weight balanced like he was prepared to defend himself. “What’re you doing?”

  What was he doing? “Sorry,” Jock rasped. Then he cleared his throat. “Just, you know . . .” He shook his head and then shrugged, because he didn’t know, but hopefully Noah wouldn’t figure that out.

  Noah huffed through his nose, but turned to go. “Come out and swim if you think you’ll be able to play well with others.” He slammed the door behind him.

  Instead, Jock did what he always did when he was confused: he went for a run. It was dusty and still too hot, but he didn’t go far, just did a lazy circuit of Madame B’s son’s vineyards. The fields stretched down to the village with the steepest sections at the top. Running hills was always a bitch. He ended up running down and walking back up to the halfway point before his preoccupied mind got control and he halted, staring down at the designs his shoe was tracing in the dirt, like he might find answers in the patterns.

  A chance to see how deep their connection could go, that’s what Toby had said he wanted. But what did Jock want? The same thing, right? It wasn’t just about getting laid regularly, even he knew that at this point; but other than thinking he’d be giving Toby what the dude had asked for, Jock hadn’t decided anything. Hadn’t set any goals for himself or them. Hadn’t identified a single thing he wanted out of this relationship.

  I’m in a relationship. Wasn’t he? Weren’t they?

  Was that how Toby saw it?

  “Fuck me,” he muttered to himself, sinking down onto a handy boulder, hanging his head and letting his hands dangle between his knees. He had a goal, at least: find out if this was a real relationship. He could only think of one way to discover what Toby thought was going on between them.

  They’d have to talk about it. He could do that. The other talks had been successful, right?

  On his walk back up to the cabin, he tried to figure out what to say. Should he just ask outright where Toby thought their “connection” would go? Had gone? It would have been fucking nice if Brad had decided to share some of these details with him. He and Sebastian had figured it out; maybe the dude could have, like, shared some intelligence with him about how to successfully negotiate a relationship.

  They were gonna have words about this when Jock got back to the US.

  Meanwhile, he had some words he needed to have with his man. In the next few minutes, because he was on the trail that led to Toby’s place—cut into the apex of the hillside a few feet below EuroTAG and the pool, overlooking the farm and the village. It was getting to sunset, and the guys were probably done swimming now. Anytime now they’d start looking for Toby, wondering where he was. Worrying like senior citizens about whether he’d come to dinner—something they did every night. Jock had lain on the floor in front of the television and listened in on many discussions about who needed to go check on Toby and when.

  “Where did you go, babe?” Toby’s voice floated out of the dusk, right in front of Jock when he came around the last row of grapevines. He ignored the endearment, or rather the little jolt it gave him, because Toby did that with his friends—called them “babe” or “hon.”

  “For a run.” Jock kept walking, until he had to stop or trample over the guy, standing in the middle of the trail. Toby had his hands shoved in his pockets, as if trying to fake indifference, but the glimmer of worry in his eye eased Jock’s nerves. Soothed his anxiety over the whole thing. He couldn’t say now why he’d thought Toby was dissing him earlier by not asking him when he was coming back. The dude had been concentrating on his paper. Jock had just . . . overreacted.

  Toby glanced away, to the spot on the horizon the sun was angling toward, then back to him. “Needed a little time for yourself?” he asked.

  Jock found himself answering truthfully. “Not really.”

  Toby licked his lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth before releasing it. “Okay.” He squared his shoulders.

  “I thought you wanted some time to yourself,” Jock said before he could go on. Positive that
wasn’t the truth, now.

  Toby’s jaw moved, chewing on words, then he dipped his head and said very quietly, “I prefer it when you’re around.”

  “Me too.” He reached for Toby’s wrist, pulling him forward until Toby’s arms came around his waist and his chin tilted up toward Jock’s mouth, their gazes locking for a second. “I wanna stay with you.”

  Toby didn’t say anything, just slid his hand up Jock’s body, cupping the back of his head and kissing him. Which was everything Jock needed to know. Toby wanted him, he could feel the assurance of it soaking into him from Toby’s skin and lips, making him ache inside—not that pre-sex ache he got, or not only that, but something working its way through him like a musical note. Like Toby had discovered Jock’s resonance frequency and was sounding it.

  Toby broke away for a second, breathing heavily. “Come back with me. Stay as long as you want.”

  Jock fisted Toby’s hair, meeting Toby’s eyes before drawing in a deep breath to ask, “This connection or whatever between us, it’s a relationship, right?”

  A little bit of uncertainty flicked across Toby’s face, the counterpart to Jock’s over what was happening between them. “Well, that’s how I think of it,” he said.

  “Me too.” He pulled Toby into another kiss. And thank fuck, because he knew with certainty in that minute that this was what he wanted. Even if it meant having a relationship with an audience of frat boys, and him having to work out being the girl. He could man up for that if it was what Toby wanted.

  Seriously, this talking about the relationship shit was easier than he’d expected. No wonder Brad hadn’t thought he needed guidance.

  Within minutes after Toby figured out Jock didn’t want some distance any more than he did, they were back in Toby’s cabin, half-naked and working up a sweat, grinding, trying to make each other come as fast as possible. Or at least that’s what Toby was trying to do, using his arms and legs to wrap and press Jock’s weight into him on the bed, as if gravity alone wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t, of course, because gravity was all about the natural attraction of one body to another, and Toby had a supernatural attraction to the body he was holding, and more importantly to what was inside it. Hiding that was pointless, and he couldn’t have if he’d wanted to. But he wanted Jock to know how he felt. He wanted Jock to pin him to the bed and take whatever he needed in order to understand that yes, Toby craved being with him all the time.

  “Give it to me,” he said when Jock freed his mouth for a second, using his palm to press Jock’s prick against his abdomen. Again with the porn talk, but it worked for them. Jock groaned, curling long fingers over Toby’s neck and gripping his jaw, holding on as he shot all over Toby’s stomach. Coming first for once, and just in time because Toby thought he’d lose it again. Let the sex pull him under to that place where he’d dissolved into sensation, unable to gauge his partner’s needs and only able to respond.

  Jock lay next to him, working his arm under Toby’s neck and pulling him closer. They stayed that way, half-dressed and half-entwined, while the room got steadily darker and their breathing slowed. Toby pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and wiped up the cum with it, but otherwise they were still until the sky outside the window only showed the faintest glow above the peaks of the Alpilles.

  “Maybe I should take a shower,” he murmured into the space between his pillow and Jock’s ear, not entirely sure Jock was awake.

  “Huh?” Jock yawned and rolled onto his side, scooting down the bed until his feet hung off and his chin rested on Toby’s shoulder, nose against his neck. “Why? I like the way you smell now.”

  Toby finger-combed Jock’s hair. “Because you just hosed me down with your scent.”

  “Oh yeah,” he mumbled. Toby could feel Jock’s lips stretching into a smile.

  “So . . . do you understand what I’m saying? About the shower.”

  Jock’s sudden alert stillness told Toby he got it. He moved after a second, wrapping his arm around Toby’s side, stroking the small of his back. “Yeah, I get the shower thing.” Then he rolled on top of Toby again until his shadowed face nearly touched Toby’s. “If you’re asking me if I want to fuck you, the answer is yes.”

  “Good.” Toby hooked his legs around the backs of Jock’s, cradling Jock’s pelvis between his thighs and stretching up for a kiss. He probably hadn’t needed to say it, but they hadn’t fucked since that time last weekend, and he’d missed it. Was hungry for it, actually, and surprised himself with a need for reassurance that Jock wanted it, too. In spite of not usually being the passive one in the past, Toby didn’t find himself wondering when Jock would be ready to bottom or with a major desire to fuck him.

  He did find himself with a major desire for Jock to take what he wanted. Wanted to know what Jock’s body thought of his when he took his own instructions out of the equation. Find out what Jock would do to it if Toby let him have at it. Let him own Toby’s ass.

  Jock refused to share Toby with the bros that night. As soon as he was out of the shower, Jock pulled him toward the bed, caressing all his naked skin, loosely stroking his cock and kneading his ass. Shoving him down on the mattress, Jock stripped his briefs off before climbing on also. Toby reached for Jock’s dick, but Jock grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I get to run this show,” he said, pressing Toby flat into the sheets, resting most of his body weight on him from his calves to his chest.

  Toby’s pupils dilated, and his lips parted on a shaky exhaled breath. Jock couldn’t have asked for a clearer reaction—Toby wanted him to take control. He started with Toby’s mouth, because he loved that part of Toby. The way Toby’s scruff rasped his chin, and how Toby’s breathing changed, matching his, sometimes even breathing through him. The way Toby liked to suck Jock’s tongue into his mouth, opening wider as Jock worked in farther. Toby tasted like sex, especially at that spot far back, when Jock was nearly to his throat.

  Someone knocked just then, when Jock was so deep in Toby’s mouth it felt like fucking, and he was wondering how far he could go. Toby didn’t even notice the first knock. By the third he was trying to pull away from Jock, but Jock wasn’t going to let Toby’s overactive sense of responsibility end anything.

  He let Toby’s mouth go, tonguing that spot just below Toby’s ear, around the back curve of his jaw. Toby was incredibly sensitive there. He moaned every time Jock even touched it with his breath. “Ignore them, they’ll think we’re gone.”

  Toby’s Adam’s apple bobbed next to Jock’s chin as he swallowed, and he stretched his head to the side, giving Jock more access.

  The doorknob rattled, and Toby’s shoulder muscles tensed up.

  “I locked the door,” Jock whispered, then ran his teeth down the side of Toby’s neck, making him hiss.

  But Toby hadn’t totally forgotten about the guys. “The lights’re still on, they’ll know we’re—”

  Jock smothered the rest of his words with a kiss, pressing hard against Toby’s lips and gripping his hair tightly, until he could feel Toby give in. He broke away long enough to say, “They’ll think we did it accidentally.”

  He didn’t think either one of them believed that. The guys knew they were here and knew what they were doing, and if they didn’t have a death wish, they’d leave now.

  “It’s time for dinner, don’t you want to eat with us?” Jules called through the door.

  Toby dropped his hands from Jock’s back, like he was giving in. Jock pulled away, waiting for him to decide who he was really giving in to.

  “Go away,” Toby called, looking up at him. He ran his thumb across Jock’s mouth, lifting himself up toward it. “We’re busy.”

  After that, Jock didn’t mean to get so rough, but Toby choosing him over the guys made his normally bad possessive streak worse, and he let it have its way. He rode Toby into the upper atmosphere. Like a fucking rocket booster launching him into orbit, until they both dropped their payloads. Coming down, thrusting lazily inside Toby and eating at his mouth as
Toby stroked his back, pausing to knead his muscles, something in the way he touched Jock communicating satisfaction. Happiness even.

  Jock didn’t know whether to trust his instincts about that. He kissed Toby with all the gentleness he hadn’t shown earlier before rolling off. “Good?”

  Toby shook his head, legs flopping onto the bed while he gasped, staring up at the ceiling. “It was fucking incredible.”

  Jock rested his head on Toby’s shoulder, combing fingers through his stomach hair. It was incredible, but uncertainty crept back into him in spite of what Toby’d said. “Not too rough?”

  “No.” Toby turned toward Jock, but Jock wouldn’t tilt his head up to look at Toby. “I mean, it was rough, but it felt . . . honest, I guess. As if you . . .” Toby paused for a breath. “Needed me like that.”

  “Good.”

  Toby wrapped his arms around Jock and squeezed him, holding him until he fell asleep and rolled away. Jock pulled him back, fitting Toby’s body against his, Toby’s back to his front, and drifted off himself.

  Jock’s hand smoothing down his hip woke Toby up at dawn. That and the tingle of Jock’s jaw stubble on the back of his neck. “Mmmm, what’re you doing?”

  Jock didn’t answer verbally, he demonstrated. Sliding his hand around to trail fingers down Toby’s stomach, he gripped his cock, using teasing strokes to make Toby squirm while kissing along his jawline. Then he let go, feeling Toby up in other places. His chest and then his shoulders, gliding around to his back, then lower.

  “Morning breath,” Toby mumbled.