by Eli Easton
I nuzzled all over his chest and belly, using the scratch of my stubble to rasp and sensitize along with the long licks and soft nibbles. He couldn’t move, but his erection, hard and huge from this close, pulsed as if trying to get my attention and dribbled onto his belly. To say I was ignoring it would be a lie—I kept an eye on it, letting the sight thrill me. But I didn’t touch it, not yet.
“I’m sensing a need to discuss tournament rules in bed,” Jordy gasped shakily, as I nuzzled into the crease between his leg and his groin. He was trembling with frustration and desire.
Time for a strategic repositioning. I moved my forearm and grabbed both his wrists so I could hold them firm at his sides on the bed. I moved over him and pressed both of his thighs apart and then pinned his calves to the mattress with my thighs. Holding him that way, he could bow up his upper back and arch his hips a little but was otherwise immobile. Perfect. I kissed his legs.
“Rule number one: No rules,” I said. I sucked at his inner thighs.
“Oh my God,” Jordy groaned. “Please, Owen, I’ve waited for this so long, and I need you. Please, please, please, please, please.”
He sounded so gut-wrenchingly sincere. It made a fresh wave of lust slam into me. But I wasn’t giving up ground, not yet. He made needy sounds as I licked and nuzzled at his balls, remembering how incredibly hot that had felt when he did it to me. I loved the texture there, it felt sort of dirty and taboo and yet so nakedly human and Jordy. He was grunting out a steady stream of huhs now as I licked and sucked at him. I shifted up a bit so I could run my tongue up his erection. I had no plans to get fancy, given that I had no clue what I was doing. I just wanted to see what it was like, get up close and personal with it.
Jordy was bigger than me. Where I was compact and solid, he was long and lanky, with big hands and feet and a really big dick. He had a slight curve toward his belly. He was circumcised, like me, and his skin had a sweet pink tinge. I rubbed my cheek against him and closed my eyes, letting the idea and reality of it sink into me. I was not repulsed or even uneasy with it. Jordan was like the other half of me in some ways, so it was no odder than masturbating. In fact, it felt incredible to be with him like this. I wanted everything about him, every part of him appealed to me. And this particular part was pure, naked, swollen, and aching sex. I licked the head and pulled it into my mouth. I let go of one of his wrists so I could stroke him.
Jordy’s freed hand threaded into my hair and stayed there as I sucked him. I didn’t try to take in much, just stayed at the top, alternating sucks and licks as my hand stroked the base of him. His breathing became more and more ragged, and mine did, too. It was so hot to me, what I was doing, that my own dick throbbed and pulsed in sympathetic responses to the sensations I imagined I was creating for him. I slipped my thighs off him so I could lay down between his legs, giving my own erection contact with the bed. The hand that still held one of Jordy’s wrists loosened, and Jordy rotated his wrist and interfaced his fingers with mine, gripping me tight as if hanging on. His hips started surging rhythmically.
“Oh, God, Owen. Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” he whispered. His hips thrust faster.
Suddenly, he moved his hand from my head to my shoulder, trying to push me away as he partially sat up. “Stop!”
I pulled off and looked up at his face. I was so close and so dazed with lust I had no idea why he’d stopped
“Come up here,” Jordy said, licking his lips. “I want to come while you’re kissing me. I want you on top.”
Hell, yes. I moved up and over him and lay down, holding a little weight off him on my elbows. But he tugged me down hard, arching up to meet my mouth.
God, the feeling of him naked underneath me, pressed against me chest to thigh. He kissed me deep, sending warm waves shooting down my body. He wrapped his arms around my ribs. His legs came up to lock around the tops of my thighs. The tilt in his hips brought us fully into contact. I felt his ridge against mine, his balls against mine. The sensation drove another spike of lust through me, stoked higher by the way he licked and sucked at my tongue. Oh, crap. I was down, and the ref was slamming the mat in a countdown in my head. I was going.
I started thrusting. At the top of my thrust, my head swept over the underside of his. He grunted.
“Want lotion?” he panted, taking his lips briefly from mine. His hips kept thrusting.
I was so close, and we were both a little slick. The friction felt good.
“Huh-uh,” I muttered incoherently, latching back onto his lips. I locked onto the thrusts and went for it. I grabbed his shoulders so we didn’t travel up the bed, held him steady as we both rocked.
For a while we skated along the edge of the cliff. It felt so amazing I wanted it to last forever. When I felt myself about to go over I raised my head. His eyes were shut tight. “Jordy, look at me.”
He did, his wide, brown eyes staring up into mine, his mouth open and panting. His face was tensed on the brink as I went over. The words I love you fell from me on a groan as I started to come. My vision went a little black around the edges, I came so hard, but I stayed focused on his face, watching as his upper lip quivered and curled up as if in pain. He thrust faster.
“Owen!” he called out as he went rigid and pulsed against my belly.
I felt his warm come join mine between us. It was like the time we’d cut our fingers as kids and held them together—blood brothers. Only this time it was a different commitment, this time it said, I’m yours and you are mine.
Afterward, we lay on our sides, and I held him tight. It felt so right having him in my arms. I couldn’t believe that I’d resisted for so long. I wasn’t sure if the power of what I felt was because of the connection I had with Jordy or if it was about my sexual orientation. It didn’t matter, I decided. Because I knew one thing for absolute certain. I was never going to let him go.
His voice wafted up, muffled from my chest. “So… gay sex,” he said dryly.
I chuckled. “For three hundred? ‘In order to have pleasurable anal sex, male couples should use what substance?’”
Jordy laughed. “Thanks, Alex. You shouldn’t even know that. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I might have done some Googling here and there.”
He squeezed me tighter and didn’t respond for a moment. “Seriously.”
“Seriously….” I rubbed his back. “Best ever. Award winning. I told you, Jordy. It’s you and me, for keeps. I can’t see wanting to be with anyone else ever again.”
Jordy raised his head to look at me, his face scrunched up with doubt. I saw hurt in his eyes, and I knew what he was thinking about. I thought about all the times he’d had to sit and watch me kissing on Emily, knowing that we were intimate. How would I have felt if our positions had been reversed? I’d hated it when he’d been dinking around with Matt, and that was only for a few weeks and out of my sight. God, I’d been so focused on doing what I thought I needed to do, I’d been oblivious to the damage I’d caused.
I tucked some curls behind his ear.
“Sorry about Emily,” I said. “I’ll never do that to you again, Jordan.”
“If you keep tucking my hair behind my ears, the deal is off,” Jordan said, smacking his hair back into disarray, but he looked thoughtful. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t blame you if you don’t.”
“Yes.” I gave him my one-hundred-proof stare.
He sighed and laid his head down on my chest. “Good, because I suck at being selfless. I’m sure it’ll be great once we get past, oh, the next two years or so.”
I sighed. “About New York…. You know, NYU sent me one of those offer letters for a wrestling scholarship.”
“They did?” Jordy said, looking up abruptly.
I shrugged. “Yeah, but that was before. If I don’t wrestle, I won’t be able to get into a school there until next year, because I didn’t apply to any.”
“We could go to Madison,” Jordy said.
“No, the Sc
hool of Visual Arts is a better school for you, and one of us is going to have to be hugely successful and make money.” I smiled sadly. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to be at Madison if I can’t wrestle. That would suck.”
Jordy suddenly sat up. He got out of bed, naked as the day he was born, and went over to my desk. He fished around in the drawer while I enjoyed the view. He really did have a nice ass. In fact my dick made a pathetic attempt at a show of interest. What did that mean? Did the fact that his ass turned me on mean I wanted to fuck him?
A thought to explore another day, maybe. He pulled out a red folder that held all my offer letters. He brought it over to the bed and sat down, cross-legged, placing the folder on the sheets and opening it.
If this was the kind of view I was going to be getting the rest of my life, it was so worth it.
“How many offer letters are there in here?” he asked, paging through them.
“Huh? Oh. Thirty-two.”
“Right.” He looked determined. “You’re going to call every single one of these coaches and see if any of them have the balls to bring in a bi wrestler.”
“Gay,” I said. “That’s the way they’ll see it.”
“Tell ’em you’re bi. It’ll make them feel a little less alienated if they think you can relate to the whole vagina thing. After all, you did have a girlfriend for the past two years, so it’s true.”
I grunted. “It doesn’t matter. All they’re going to care about is that I like cock.”
“It’s not your fault you have impeccable taste,” Jordy quipped. “I’m serious, Owen. Your high school career has been fucking outstanding. There has to be one of these schools that’d be happy for the chance to snatch you up. I mean, who really cares who you’re sleeping with?”
“It matters,” I said quietly.
He held the sheaf of papers up, his face determined. “We’re going to fight for this. Come, on, Pin Man. Show me what you’ve got.”
I flipped the sheet aside.
Jordy chuckled. “I mean here.” He tapped my chest. “And here.” He tapped my head. “Oooh, hollow.”
“Douchebag.”
He grew serious. “You don’t intend to come out at school, right? I mean we’ve only got six weeks left. No point in rocking the boat.”
The thought was sobering. I put my hands behind my head. “If I’m calling college coaches and discussing it, it may get out. For sure I have to talk to my folks. Plus, it seems dishonest that we’d pretend to just be friends, and then we graduate and—wham. Like we’d been lying the whole time.”
“Yeah, but they’ll think that anyway, and we don’t ever have to see these people again.”
I shrugged. “That’s burning a lot of bridges.”
“I think being with me already napalmed them, sorry.”
I thought about it. “Besides, if we’re honest and take a stand, we have a chance to do a bit of good before we leave. Set a precedent.”
Jordy groaned. “Sometimes your tendency for moral rectitude is downright annoying.”
“This is a mutual decision, Jordy.”
“So I can vote for being a chickenshit?” Jordy raised his hand with a hopeful look.
I laughed. “Well, if that’s the kind of person you want to be…,” I said, faking a disappointed tone.
“Shut up.”
He was quiet for a minute. “I can’t stand the thought of going to school and seeing everyone treat you like an outcast. I mean, they know I’m gay, it doesn’t matter. But for you, Owen…. You’re a celebrity. It’s going to be like Prince William being arrested for pedophilia.”
“You do look awfully young.” I took his hand and squeezed it. I tried not to show how much the fear and anxiety were already eating at my gut. “If we’re being honest, then, yeah, it’s going to suck donkey ass. But we’ll get to the other side, and we’ll be together.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me. I sat up and looked Jordan in the eye. “That is what you want, isn’t it? For us to stay together? Because if it’s not, now would be a really good time to tell me.”
Jordy flopped back on the bed with a sigh. He looked up at the ceiling. I waited. He turned his head to look at me. “There are only two big dreams I’ve ever had for my life.” He crooked a sad smile at me. “And being with you, Owen Nelson, has always been one of them.”
EPILOGUE: Sophomore year of college
Jordy
Owen pinned his opponent, a large red-haired guy from Oklahoma. The crowd stood up and roared. The ref grabbed Owen’s wrist and held it up. Owen blinked away his intense focus, looked up at me in the stands and smiled.
Damn, he looked fine in that burnt orange and black singlet with the big white W on his chest. As it was wont to do, my heart did a happy little squiggle in my chest before flopping over and surrendering in a puddle of goo.
Was I the luckiest guy in the world, or what?
I was standing and waving my arms and hooting, careful not to bash Owen’s mom in the head. The LGBT contingency down the bleachers from me, who’d been rabid supporters of Owen since day one, were standing up and going bonkers. Owen was the first openly bi wrestler UW Madison had ever had. Not everyone was over the moon about it, as a few harsh editorials in the newspaper made clear, but the gay pride advocates on campus were fervently in the hot-diggity-damn camp.
Both Owen and I were completely shocked that the UW Badgers had taken him after all. A lot of the schools he’d contacted had given him a cold “sorry, no.” But NYU had agreed to take him. The night they called we were over the moon. A day later, the UW Badgers coach had called. They still wanted Owen on the team.
Both those coaches had, separately and with sizable contingencies, descended on Jefferson High like men in black before reaching a final decision. They’d seen Owen before, of course, but everything changed after that phone call. It was unusual for recruiters to be out that late; the wrestling season was over. But Owen’s teammate, Vince, had offered to get on the mat with him for a show bout. Those college coaches with their lawyers, assistant coaches, HR people, nose-wipers, and God knows who all else, had watched Owen and Vince wrestle their asses off, and they’d sat there, faces like stone. Both groups had asked to take Owen and me out to dinner afterward.
There were a lot of blunt questions. How long had we been together? Was it serious? Did we intend to live together on campus? Were we monogamous?
For the first time, I understood how Owen felt—no one had ever paid attention to me before. It was like being a bug pinned under a microscope. I sweated buckets. I wanted things to work out for Owen so badly. I didn’t want to be the reason why he couldn’t wrestle. Owen just held my hand firm in his and answered everything head-on. I told them what a star Owen was and that they’d be lucky to have him. Owen told them we were for keeps. He surprised me the first time by pulling my portfolio, which I didn’t even know he had, from his duffle bag.
“Jordan’s an artist,” he said proudly, placing it on the table. “He’ll be in the art department.” They flipped through it and said nothing, but I thought their eyes got a little friendlier when they looked at me.
I hadn’t expected any of this, but then, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
The Badger’s coach told us later how it had gone down. He and the assistant coaches had assembled the wrestling team in the locker room and rolled in a TV. They’d played a DVD of some of Owen’s more spectacular matches from the news reels, cheering crowds and all. A number of the guys on the team then had been freshmen when Owen’s brother, Charlie, had been around doing some assistant coaching. Charlie had been respected, so they knew the Nelson name.
The coach rattled off Owen’s impressive state ranking from sixth grade through twelfth and added, “The kid has a 3.7 GPA and is Vice President of his school’s anti-bullying club. Now. Who thinks he should be on the team?”
Everyone raised their hands, looking confused since normally they had no say in recruiting and it sounded like a no-brainer.
“He’s also bisexual, and he’ll be coming to UW with his long-time boyfriend, who’s going into the art department.” He let that sit. “Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you all do outside this gym as long as you bring your A game when you’re on the floor. I think Owen will be an asset to this team. Raise your hand if you think there’s no place for him here.”
Wrestlers started slowly putting up their hands. In the end there were ten hands raised. There were thirty-three wrestlers on the team. Owen was in.
Owen wanted us to go to New York so I could get my cartooning degree. I insisted on Madison. It was a family tradition; he belonged there. We were surprised at how open the campus was. Even though Madison is surrounded by rural areas, the city itself is very progressive. There were a variety of LGBT support groups on campus and even a LGBT campus center in the union. With forty thousand students, it was big enough that not everyone knew or cared about your business anyway. There was even gay-friendly housing, which we got into with some help from the admissions department.
Look, I won’t say it’s been easy. There’s been plenty of ugliness. Owen has to work twice as hard as the other wrestlers to get respect, and occasionally there’ll be a wrestler who just refuses to wrestle him and concedes in protest. He’s gotten hate mail. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to coach, so he works his ass off on his English degree. And I can’t even think about those last few weeks of our senior year without getting a flush of horror. Most of Owen’s friends, Vince being a surprising exception, turned on him. A lot of people acted like we’d been lying all the time, even though Owen told them how it was. There was a fistfight in the parking lot that scared the crap out of me. The other guy lost.
Emily was great, though. She still sat by us at lunch and told anyone who would listen to fuck off. After that first lunch when she sat with us in a mind-boggling act of solidarity, I managed to get her alone and hug her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You must feel like we stabbed you in the back.”
“Yeah, Jordan, you man-stealing bitch.”
