Hot Jocks

by J. M. Snyder

  “Maybe we’ll both get lucky tonight.” Lonnie pushed back against the driver’s seat in a poor attempt to stretch, but there was simply no room. “In case you didn’t know, a lot of girls don’t really like sports, either.”

  “I thought you could take it or leave it,” Jo said.

  Lonnie sighed. “Yeah, well, when it’s about all you do, there really isn’t much else to talk about.”

  Jo knew what he meant. In the off season he played to keep in shape, but when basketball started up again, he would eat, breathe, and sleep the sport. For him, there was nothing else worth talking about, or thinking about, or doing. He knew that bored other people who didn’t live for basketball like he did, but to be honest, he didn’t care. He had little interest in anyone who wasn’t interested in the sport.

  And even if they did get lucky at the party, Jo didn’t think a random hook-up would lead to anything long term. Not unless he happened to get really lucky and land in the lap of a b-baller from another college, or an NBA all-star, or someone like that.

  * * * *

  The GPS led them as far as the parking lot of the townhome complex, but they didn’t need any further directions—they could see the lights on at a corner unit at the end of the row, and people spilled out onto the lawn as music blared into the night. Lonnie had to park at the curb in front of a fenced-in playground a short walk away. Together he and Jo headed for the party, but not before a lone hoop caught Jo’s attention. “Hey, too bad we don’t have a ball,” Jo kidded, nudging his teammate.

  Lonnie slapped at the air as if brushing aside the idea. “Nah, man, let’s chill for once, a’ight? No one knows us here. They don’t have to know we’re ballers if we don’t let on.”

  Jo gave him a sideways glance. “You serious? ‘Cause looking at you, no offense, but most people figure it out. You’re like the Jolly Green Giant’s illegitimate son he had from an affair with Aunt Jemima.”

  When Lonnie grinned, his large teeth dazzled in the darkness. “Illegitimate? How you know they were living in sin? Just because she’s his baby mama doesn’t mean he didn’t put a ring on it.”

  They were still laughing as they approached the townhouse. Jo didn’t see anyone he recognized, but he wasn’t surprised—given the distance they’d driven to get there, anyone from State without a car wasn’t going to attend just by riding the city bus, and there were a number of nearby colleges in DC or even Maryland whose students wouldn’t think the drive was too far for a kegger. And the beer was flowing, Jo could tell, even from a cursory glance at the crowd dancing barefoot in the last of the summer grass. Red Solo cups sloshed as girls giggled and bumped into each other, midriffs bared and lean, tanned legs flashing beneath mini-skirts and too short shorts. Groups of rowdy young men roughhoused and tackled each other—someone had a football they were tossing back and forth, giving them an excuse to rush each other and violently tear up the grass.

  Lonnie eyed the girls as he and Jo edged around the crowd, heading for the front door. More people lined the sidewalk leading to the townhouse, and one or two people seemed to know them; or rather, recognized them as athletes, because Jo sure didn’t know who anyone was. But he returned the greetings with nods and waves, a “Hey, man” here and a “Sup” there, once a classic handclasp of a fellow baller that left him feeling chuffed. If someone had found a football, maybe he could round up a basketball at some point and get a game of 21 going out on the court later.

  Short but steep stairs led from the sidewalk up to the stoop, and at first glance, the steps appeared to be overflowing with women. As Jo got closer, he realized the girls all swooned around a man strumming a guitar. He was a long-haired guy with soulful eyes and a pretty pout, eyes shut, a joint dangling from the corner of his lips. So there was more than just beer here, as well.

  If Jo didn’t have basketball to think about, and practice coming up in another week or so, and the threat of random drug tests looming over him, he might’ve plucked that joint from those bee-stung lips and given the musician a kiss, see what would happen. Nothing, most likely—the guy was hot but too lost in the moment and the booze and the pot, and would probably roll with a kiss from a stranger, male or female.

  Though he looked like the type who might have liked it, Jo wasn’t sure. He had good gaydar and could get a read on athletes without a problem, but the musician/poet types were harder reads. Sometimes they liked dick, sometimes they were just sensitive and fey. Jo usually found such guys sexy, but didn’t want to strike out before he even made it into the party, or get punched if it came to that. And if the guy did take him up on his offer, would the second-hand marijuana show up in his blood days later?

  Too risky, he thought with a sad shake of his head.

  He met the guitar player’s smoldering gaze as he climbed the stairs and felt a familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. His balls clenched, his dick stiffened, and he almost stopped in mid-step, drug test be damned. He couldn’t get high from a few kisses, could he? If things moved fast, and they ended up in a bedroom somewhere, the kisses would rapidly dissolve into something more, and he didn’t think THC was carried in semen. Or wait, was it?

  Then Lonnie’s hand was on his back, pushing him up the steps. The guitar player looked away, breaking the moment. Jo stumbled up the stairs and onto the stoop. As he reached for the ornate knob on the screen door, it swung out to meet him. More people shoved outside amid music and laughter. Jo stepped sideways to avoid being crushed and ducked into the townhouse and the party proper before the door could shut him out.

  * * * *

  Inside the townhouse, chaos reigned. Jo found himself swept along with the tide of people moving through the hallway—past the living room, past the stairs, he lost Lonnie at some point, he wasn’t sure where. When he saw an opening to his right, he jumped out of the flow and found himself in a crowded staircase leading down to a concrete-floored garage, devoid of cars but doubling as a dance floor. Music echoed off the walls, bodies bumped against each other, couples made out in the stairwell as people edged around them.

  Jo wanted a drink before delving down into the pit of the garage, so he pushed his way back out into the hall and let the flow carry him to the kitchen. There the slam of a screen door deposited more people out into the backyard, but he stopped at the island in the middle of the room, where not one but two promised keggers loomed amid the crowds hovering around them like pagan idols rising from the mists of worshipping natives. Solo cups overflowing with foam were being passed back to those in the crowd who wanted drinks but couldn’t get close enough to the kegs to draw their own.

  More beer chilled in the kitchen sink, bottles and cans half-hidden in melting ice. Jo tried to make his way around the others, angling for the sink. He stretched out his arm, stood on the tips of his toes. If only he could reach that far…

  His elbow brushed against a hard, flat stomach—skin on skin contact, not someone’s shirt or jacket, but warm abs rubbing along the fine, downy hairs on his arm. When Jo glanced over, a tall, handsome man with caramel-colored skin stared openly at him, assessing him, as if wondering why he hadn’t pulled away yet.

  Jo wondered the same thing.

  The guitar player on the stoop held nothing on this fella. Large chocolate eyes, a mouth as luscious as licorice, high cheekbones that stretched his honeyed flesh until it looked silky smooth. While the guy outside had been a maybe, Jo hadn’t been sure, couldn’t read him right, there was no uncertainty about this sexy brother, none at all. For one thing, with a body like that, he played sports, something—basketball was Jo’s guess, given his height and those muscles, but maybe swimming, maybe baseball, something.

  But more importantly, he and Jo played on the same team, no doubt about it. None whatsoever.

  Pulling his arm back, Jo stepped forward to close the distance between them. He led with his hips, tucking his hands into his back pockets, and found an empty space to bump against the counter beside the sexy player. The guy wore a cropped jersey cut
off at midriff, baring his firm abs, and a battered pair of skinny jeans that were meant to look as if he’d picked them at random, but Jo knew better. He’d spent hours before trying to pretend like he hadn’t.

  Above those chocolate eyes was a helmet of bushy black fuzz, a thick kink with the consistency of a Brillo pad. Jo shoved his hands deeper into his back pockets to keep from reaching out to touch those tight curls. He wondered what they’d feel like in his palms or threaded through his fingers. The guy had an earring, too, or rather, an industrial piercing, a silver bar that went through two holes in the upper part of his ear where the cartilage was.

  God, that was hot.

  “Hey,” Jo said. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but leaned in towards the guy at the same time, hoping to create an intimate space between them, showing his interest without saying as much. “I’m Jo. Just got here. Can you get me a beer?”

  The guy reached over and plucked a longneck bottle from the sink. Killian’s Irish Red, good choice. As he handed it over, he said, “Kevin. You know Vicky?”

  “Who? No.” Jo twisted off the beer’s bottle cap with his bare hand and shook his head. “I think my friend does, though. He’s the one told me about this party. We go to State. You?”

  Kevin gave Jo a not-so-subtle once-over, head to toe, that gave away his interest in an instant. “Me, too.”

  Taking a swig of the cold beer, Jo leaned against the counter and let his hip rest against Kevin’s. “No shit? I ain’t seen you around. What year are you?”

  “Just started grad school,” Kevin admitted. “You?”

  With a laugh, Jo shook his head and moved a step closer under the pretense of making room for others around them, but the truth was, they were all alone in the crowded room. The moment Jo laid eyes on Kevin, everyone else ceased to exist. “Senior, undergrad. Damn, man, you don’t look that much older than me.”

  Kevin moved an arm behind Jo along the counter, easing it into place around his waist. “Nah, I ain’t. I graduated high school a year early, so we’re probably about the same age.” Now his hip bumped Jo’s, too, a good sign that things were heading in the right direction. “You looking at graduate schools yet?”

  Ducking down, Jo touched his forehead to Kevin’s shoulder and snickered. “Man, I’m looking to graduate period. You must be crazy to dive right back in.”

  When Kevin shrugged, the movement made Jo settle closer against his body. “Hell, it was that or get a real job, and I ain’t ready for that just yet, if you know what I mean.”

  They shared a laugh, and another beer—Jo wasn’t sure where his had gone, but the next time he went to take a swig, the bottle was empty. Kevin’s arm eased off the counter and brazenly settled on Jo’s hip with a possessive air, as if it belonged there, and Jo didn’t bother to shake it off.

  When Jo wanted a third beer, he leaned across Kevin’s body to get it himself, pressing their chests together as he stared at Kevin. They didn’t talk much—they couldn’t really, not over the din of the party, and the kitchen seemed to be where everyone was congregating, because of the booze or because the music wasn’t quite as loud there as it was elsewhere in the house, and every couple minutes someone interrupted them wanting another bottle out of the sink.

  But everything Jo wanted to say, he poured into that look he gave Kevin; all the need, the desire, the lust coiled in his groin, pulsing in his blood, throbbing in his cock and balls. I want you, he thought as he stared Kevin down and reached blindly into the sink for another beer. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and thrust his hips forward, just enough to let Kevin feel the stiffening erection in his jeans.

  Kevin’s hand, still on the small of Jo’s back, dipped down to cup one ass cheek through the denim. His other arm came up around Jo as he leaned in close, breath hot on Jo’s cheek, and he opened his mouth to lick out his tongue. The hot, wet muscle flickered over the sweat trapped in the faint hairs curled on Jo’s jawline and Jo gasped. He leaned his head back, exposing his neck, and felt Kevin’s lips pucker over his Adam’s apple.

  “Hey,” Kevin sighed. His words tickled Jo’s neck.

  Jo pressed his hips into Kevin’s, arching his back into Kevin’s embrace. The beer in the sink was forgotten. He gripped Kevin’s firm biceps with both hands. This was right where he wanted to be. “Hmm?”

  That hot tongue licked its way up Jo’s throat to the underside of his chin, and Kevin nipped at the scant hairs there, tugging gently. “Grab a couple more beers and let’s find someplace quieter where we can get to know each other better. What do you say?”

  Jo let go of Kevin long enough to snag two bottles from the melting ice in the sink. “Hell, yeah. What do you have in mind?”

  * * * *

  Holding both unopened bottles of beer in one hand, Jo caught the belt loop on the back of Kevin’s jeans and followed his newfound friend out of the kitchen. Kevin weaved through the crowd with ease, Jo bumping along behind him. “Know where you’re going?” Jo called out over the noise, but they were passing the stairs leading down to the garage and the music drowned out the sound of his voice. If Kevin heard him, he didn’t answer.

  The living room was packed—people danced in the middle of the room, and every spot on the furniture was already claimed by couples making out. A few were also pressed up against the walls or hidden in the corners, bodies grinding to the beat of the music, hands thrust beneath clothing, not caring who might see them getting it on. The lights were off anyway; Jo couldn’t discern any faces, only bodies and skin, legs and arms, hair and clothes. He and Kevin could definitely lose themselves in there, but he didn’t see any empty seats…

  But Kevin wasn’t heading for the living room, and at the end of the hall, he turned before they could step out onto the stoop, so he wasn’t leading Jo outside, either. No, he started upstairs, easing past the crowd of people hanging out on the steps that led to the next level. Jo slipped another finger into the belt loop to keep up and flashed a tight grin at anyone he bumped on the way.

  Upstairs wasn’t as noisy, but thudding bass still shook the walls and floorboards. There were three doors, all shut. Kevin tried each one, stepping over couples writhing on the floor in the darkened hall. The first door opened on a bathroom already filled to capacity with girls snorting something off a cluttered counter. They giggled and shrieked when they saw Kevin and Jo, then pulled the door shut. The next door was a linen closet.

  The last was locked. When Kevin jiggled the handle, a man’s voice called out from inside, “Do you mind? We’re already in here.” A woman moaned in agreement.

  Kevin backed away. “Damn it,” he muttered. “So that’s where Vicky went.”

  Jo smoothed his hand flat against the bare skin along Kevin’s lower back. “I could see if my friend will let us crash in his car. I’ll warn you now though—it’s a bit small.”

  “There’s a third floor,” Kevin said, nodding at the stairs.

  Jo hadn’t noticed, but there was another staircase winding away above the one they had previously ascended. This one wasn’t as crowded as the one below it, and as they climbed higher, the music and noise from the party below dropped away until it felt as if they were in a completely different townhouse altogether. Some other people had discovered the upper floor, too, but they weren’t draped over the bannister and pressed against the walls. They sat cozily on the floor, in intimate pairings or small groups, cuddling together or making out.

  The hallway was dark, lit only by a nightlight plugged into a wall socket near the top of the staircase. There were two bedrooms up here, both doors already locked, already claimed. Another linen closet stood open, the shelves pushed up out of the way as two girls fooled around in the doorway. Towels and sheets tumbled around them as one girl backed up against the shelves, shirt open, bra unhooked, her girlfriend nuzzling hungrily between her breasts.

  Kevin and Jo exchanged an amused glance. The only remaining door had to be a bathroom, and it was shut. Jo wasn’t holding out
much hope, but as Kevin reached for it, the door opened and a large guy barreled out, obviously a football player from some school. Veins bulged at his temples and all along his neck from whatever drug he’d taken into his system.

  When he saw them, he bellowed, “Yeah!”

  Jo cringed, but Kevin didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah!” he hollered back. Clapping the guy on one broad bicep, he asked, “You done in there, man?”

  The hopped-up Goliath staggered to one side. “Hell, yeah! You seen Beth?”

  This last was directed at Jo, who shook his head quickly. “Who? I…” He looked at Kevin for help.

  “Downstairs maybe?” Kevin suggested.

  With a nod, the guy took the steps at a full run. “Lis’beth! Yeah! That’s some good shit!”

  Jo watched the top of his head disappear down the stairs. Before he was completely out of sight, Kevin grabbed Jo’s arm. “Come on while it’s still up for grabs.”

  He pulled Jo into the bathroom and shut the door behind them. In the tiny room, Jo relaxed.

  Alone at last.

  * * * *

  The bathroom was tiny. Most of the space was given up to the bathtub—two sides were exposed, and two black shower curtains hung from an L-shaped rod, closing off the tub’s interior completely. Beside the tub was the toilet, and in front of that, the sink. There was no counter, but fine white powder dusted the edges of the sink. It looked like talcum powder, but given the previous occupant’s amped up state, Jo suspected it wasn’t anything so innocent. The mirror above the sink hid a medicine cabinet; one panel hadn’t been closed properly, and Jo could see a jumbled mess of pill bottles and toiletries inside.

  Jo leaned against the closed door as Kevin turned around in the cramped space. His hip bumped against Jo’s thigh, they were so close together, and there was no room to move around or spread out. The toilet lid was down, they could maybe sit there. But the floor wasn’t long enough to stretch out, and Jo didn’t think the two of them would be able to lie down comfortably together there, anyway. Maybe the tub…