Chapter Thirteen #2
I clung to the pool’s edge, still bobbing as the water ebbed from my disturbances, and thought about how things might’ve been different had college been on my roadmap.
My grades had been sufficient, just about, and my parents not averse to the idea.
Somewhere in state, of course, given the financial situation: they’d made noises about helping out, but I knew the “college fund” amounted to moral support and the old pickup that, by that point, I was already driving.
In the end it was apathy that made the choice for me. Or, perhaps more accurately, simply not knowing what I’d do when I got there. Unwilling to gamble on a sense of direction manifesting by the end of a still-expensive first year.
I couldn’t say, with hindsight, that it was the wrong decision. Even if I wasn’t sure that someone like Flynn would necessarily agree.
My arms were aching as I pulled myself out of the water.
Muscles forced to work in unfamiliar ways; the sort of foreboding protest that suggested tomorrow morning might be an uncomfortable one, when the exertions caught up with me.
I rubbed myself down with the towel I’d left poolside, as I walked back to the locker room.
Only to find that I no longer had the place to myself.
Early thirties, perhaps; taller than me, and broader across the shoulders. Dark hair buzzed short. He gestured with his chin as I padded through, still barefoot; I nodded back, my eyes lingering only as long on his bare chest as was acceptable for strangers.
“Been swimming?” His voice was deeper than I expected, very nearly a whole register lower. Then he chuckled. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it.”
I raised my eyebrows, flashing him a grin. “I could just be really, really sweaty when I work out.”
He laughed again. “I’m no doctor, but...”
“I should probably have that checked out,” I finished for him.
He winked, as he pushed down his sweatpants.
I turned away, suddenly self-conscious. Wondering if, for all I’d thought it restrained, he’d noticed the way I’d checked out his torso. Whether even a casual glance over, as he stood there in his underwear, would be sufficient to reveal me as the sort of pervert who ogled guys in locker rooms.
Blushing, and angry at myself, I shoved my swimsuit down.
“In town for anything fun?”
Looking over felt dangerous, like it was a trap with clear bait attached. I shook my head. “Just a weekend break, really.”
He chuckled. “Plenty to keep you occupied, I’m sure.” A pause. “For a good looking guy like yourself.”
I froze, towel mid-rub. “Uh, thanks.”
He was humming to himself, a tuneless sort of noise that nonetheless seemed happy. Grudgingly, against my better instinct, I peeked behind me.
His smirk was less “caught you,” and more “I was wondering when you’d look.” Or maybe he always had that expression, when he was standing naked in front of a stranger.
I forced my eyes to stay on his face, as though my life depended on it. “How about you?”
Clearly he had fewer qualms about being seen staring. Gaze tracking down, across my bare ass, and then back up again. The smile was wider when he reached my face.
“Just passing through, really. Though I’m always open to... distractions.”
I nodded, slowly.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been cruised before. Even so, that moment of inversion - the fear of revealing yourself, clicking around to the thrill of being seen - was still enough to send shivers through my stomach. Turning back to the locker meant I could hide my grin.
I glanced at my phone, then looked again, more closely. Recognizing the username on the notification, even if it took me a moment to place it.
“You back in town?” CityShowboy101 had sent, what could only be minutes after I’d started swimming. “Fancy round two?”
I could imagine William grinning at the screen as he tapped that out. Wondered whether he’d told Flynn that my name had appeared in the “nearby” list; whether, because I’d been given the green light once, that meant he had carte blanche to hook up with me again.
My fingers itched to unlock the phone, to reply. Worried, suddenly, that in the time it’d taken for me to tire new muscles, William would’ve moved on; figured out a different partner for the evening’s performance.
I forced myself to drop the towel, to step into my boxer-briefs. Turned, then; some distant part of my brain noting that this handsome stranger’s conspicuous stare down at the heft of my junk felt flattering, but not quite exciting. Not compared to the thought of Flynn watching me, anyway.
“Not gonna shower?” The smirk suggested I’d have no trouble finding someone to wash my back.
I shook my head. “Running late, gotta meet an old friend.”
A moue of disappointment, quickly squashed. “Pity. Maybe I’ll see you around, then.”
That was the truth of it, of course, the reality. I’d been a good prospect, but then life was full of good prospects; no point getting sad over nameless trade.
“Enjoy your workout,” I told him, with a wink, and then tried not to look like I was racing to pull my clothes back on.
#
“I’m down,” I tapped out in reply, having impressed myself with my restraint at waiting until I was in the elevator before opening William’s message. If he responded to say I was too late, I could rebrand that restraint as self-sabotage.
“Oh good.” The reply came a minute or so later, complete with a winking emoji and a photo. William on all fours, bare ass facing the camera, back a bottom’s perfect arch.
I felt myself stiffen; resisted the urge to push a hand into my pocket and squeeze myself through the lining.
Not so much at the sight of his spread cheeks, and the knowledge of what he was inviting, but at the thought of what was outside of the frame or, more exactly, who.
My imagination filling in the periphery, adding Flynn, and his mask, and his white-knuckled restraint in a chair in the corner.
Mute and wide-eyed, watching me as I hefted my cock and prepared to perform for him. I wanted him to approve of me.
No, I wanted him to want me, too. For me to be the lure that cracked that resolve, that dragged him out of that chair, hands outstretched.
He’d tried to explain why he did it, the addictive charm of something he could control in a world that otherwise felt off-kilter.
I could appreciate that; begin to understand it, even.
Only there was a part of me - one I wasn’t entirely sure I was proud of - that saw it as a challenge, too. A competition.
Flynn and I had always been competitive, when we were little kids. It was just that, now, the stakes were different.