Chapter 13 Couldn’t You Have Been More Of A Slut?
COULDN'T YOU HAVE BEEN MORE OF A SLUT?
Elliot
Elliot
Mayday! Mayday! SOS!
Breaker
Let me guess, I was right?
Lennon
Right about what?
Breaker
Elliot and the goalie left the kids’ skate early after a very romantic spin around the ice where they were holding hands and mooning at each other.
Lennon
Dammit, why did my charity golf thing with the baseball team have to be today? I miss all the good stuff.
But wait, what were you right about, B? Did you guess that they would leave together?
Elliot
He was right about me. I’m totally going to fall in love with Alex.
Lennon
Oh, yeah. No shit. I could have told you that.
Breaker
I told you so.
Elliot
HELP ME!
Breaker
What happened after you left?
Lennon
Don’t leave out any of the dirty details.
Breaker
*puke* Please leave out all of the dirty details.
Elliot
Nothing dirty happened.
Lennon
Bummer.
Elliot
I shouldn’t even be talking about this. I don’t want to violate his privacy.
Breaker
So something dirty did happen?
Elliot
NO. Not really. We just talked. I said things, he said things…
Lennon
Riveting. So glad B and I paused making out and watching Forrest Gump to hear this amazing story.
Elliot
There might have been some…suggesting of… dirty things on his part…
Lennon
Now there’s the good stuff. I knew Holmes had a little bit of Froot Loop in him like us. What did he suggest? Secret rendezvous? Hand stuff? You know, there’s a really good supply closet at the stadium if you’re into the semi-public thing.
Elliot:
It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, he wants to be friends. Just friends. How do I do that? How do I be just friends with someone I can’t get out of my head?
Breaker
You’re talking to the wrong guys, Baker. Len and I were never just friends, even when we were.
Lennon
You should ask Coach Cannon. He and his husband were friends for ten years before they fell in love. And that was only after they got married.
Elliot
Forget it. It's fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.
Breaker
*Narrator voice* Everything was, in fact, not fine
Elliot
*middle finger emoji*
Lennon
He loves us! Elliot really loves us!
Elliot
Go back to jerking each other off while you watch Forrest run through the desert, you perverts.
I flop over the arm of my couch, throwing an arm over my face as I let out an exasperated breath. I should have known that Breaker and Lennon wouldn’t be mature enough to handle this situation.
Hell, I’m not mature enough to handle this situation.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Alex Kozlov Holmes is that just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore, he surprises the hell out of me again.
I think about you. I think about you. I think about you.
Those four words play like a broken record in my head, and I groan as my dick starts to thicken behind the zipper of my jeans once again. As if hitching a Lyft to my place across town with a boner to beat the band wasn’t embarrassing enough, I can’t stop thinking about Alex’s confession.
He isn’t straight. He isn’t repulsed by my attraction to him. He’s attracted to me too, and he wants me to touch him. Wants to touch me back. Wants more than just my good luck kisses…
“Fuck,” I grumble, pulling my phone back out of my pocket and dialing the number of a sure-fire erection killer. I can’t think if all the blood in my body is constantly pooled in my dick.
“Hey Elly Belly, what’s up?” Mom’s voice comes through the phone, and it's like an instant head clearer.
“Hey Mama. Not much. I just wanted to call and say hi.”
“Such a terrible little liar I raised. You called and said hi to me this morning, sweet boy. And you’ve got that “I need my mama” hitch in your voice. So tell me what’s wrong before I use your fancy credit card and book a flight to San Francisco just to kick your butt.”
I sigh and suppress a laugh. Using my credit card to visit me isn’t the threat Mom thinks it is.
Having had me at seventeen and raising me on her own, my mom and I have always been close, but there was still a time when I thought I was too cool to hang out with her or too smart for her advice.
As I get older, though, and the gap in our age starts to feel smaller and smaller, Mom has become both my mother and one of my best friends.
And even through the phone, she can read me like a book.
“I kind of…sort of…maybe have a crush…” I grumble, then yank my phone away from my ear when Mom starts to shriek like a banshee.
She always screams when she thinks there’s a man in my life. It’s that inherent mom thing where she wants me to be “settled” and “happy”.
Whatever that means.
“Tell! Me! Everything!”
And so I do. I fill Mom in on everything that’s happened between Alex and I and all the things we talked about today.
Well, almost everything. I leave out the blatant sexual innuendos, for both of our sakes.
“So let me get this straight, since apparently neither you nor this goalie can get anything straight,” Mom says, giggling at her own stupid joke.
One thing about Mom being only seventeen years old when she had me?
Her humor sort of stalled out when she was in high school, too.
I roll my eyes, but still, her amusement makes me smile.
“The two of you meet. You kiss. He tells you he’s not into men, so you decide to be friends.
You hang out a few times, talk on the phone, and then he tells you that he actually is into men.
Not only is he into men, but he’s into you.
Now you realize you both have crushes that you want to explore. What’s the problem?”
“Mooooom. The problem is that we’re friends. What happens if we…you know…and it doesn’t work out? Then what? I just lose Alex as a friend?”
“Elly Belly, you’ve known him for a month.
It's not like you’ve got a lifetime’s worth of baggage between you to think about.
You’re not entangled with each other yet.
If it doesn’t work out, you try to go back to being friends.
You’re both adults, you can give friendship after fucking a shot.
And if that doesn’t work out, you move on with your life and with the memory of being the hot hockey god’s gay awakening to keep you warm at night until you find the right guy for you. I don’t see the problem.”
Yet another problem with being in the same age-bracket as your mother. Her motherly instincts and woman’s intuition make her so much smarter than me, even if she’s still young enough to be hip to hookup culture and to gross me out with her advice.
“You haven’t met him though, Mom. He’s…perfect. He’s adorable and kind and thoughtful. He’s funny and he’s so unapologetically himself. He’s fucking adorable. He’s great with kids, he’s great with me. Have I mentioned how adorable he is? I just want to pinch his cheeks all the damn time.”
I also want to bend him over and bite his other cheeks, but Mom doesn’t need to hear that. She sighs on the other end of the phone.
“Got it. So the problem is that you don’t just have a crush on him. You like him. You’re falling for him.”
“Yup,” I answer, popping the “p”. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to let him go because my heart is already involved. That’s what I was trying to tell him earlier, but then he mentioned the whole ‘good luck kisses’ thing, and my brain went offline. I don’t know what to do, Mom.”
I can hear her forlorn sigh on the other end of the phone, and I know I’m not going to like whatever it is she has to say.
“I hate to say it, kid, but I don’t have a good answer for you. You’re just going to have to go with your gut on this one.”
“That’s such bullshit. You’re a mom, you’re supposed to know everything.”
“I do know everything, except when it comes to men. Don’t know if you noticed, but your sperm donor ditched me almost immediately after he left his deposit, and there wasn’t exactly a parade of potential boyfriends marching around our lives for the past thirty-one years.”
“Damn it. Couldn’t you have been more of a slut? If you had had a parade of men around the past thirty-one years, then maybe one of us would know what the hell we’re doing.”
We laugh and after Mom catches me up on the gossip from her book club, we say our goodbyes and I toss together a quick chicken and veggies dish since I never got around to eating my waffle earlier.
After I’ve eaten and crawled into bed, I try my best to clear my head so that I can get a good night’s sleep and give some serious thought to this whole Alex situation.
Unfortunately, the second his name crosses my mind, I can’t stop thinking about his amber eyes and the smell of his skin, or the way his lips felt against my ear when he told me that he thinks about me.
And now my cock is hard again, trapped behind the elastic waistband of my shorts, begging for me to reach down and show it some love.
I shouldn’t, though. I should leave my dick alone and go to sleep.
I’ve been so good lately. That’s not to say I haven’t jerked off, but when I have, I’ve been able to force some separation between fantasy and real life.
The images in my head while I’ve gotten off have all been vague, faceless nobodies running their hands over me and making me squirm with pleasure.
They have to be, because if I were to give my fantasies a face, they’d be Alex. Every single one of them.
I don’t know if I have the strength to not think about him tonight. But I also don’t know if I have the strength to ignore the pounding of my heart or the arousal coursing through my veins.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, shucking my shorts down before reaching over to my bedside table for the lube I might not even need if the way my cock is leaking on my stomach says anything.
I pop the cap anyway, hissing when the cool liquid dribbles against my burning hot skin, and then take myself in hand.
The relief is immediate, pleasure spiking through me as I slowly drag my fist up, spreading the lube all over my cock and teasing the head with my thumb.
I shudder, closing my eyes and giving in to following my imagination where it wants to take me.
Alex, his face nuzzled into my neck, his breath ghosting across my skin.
Only this time, we’re not in a run-down diner surrounded by elderly patrons.
We’re here in my room, the lights dim and our shirts nowhere to be found.
My hands run over the hard planes of his body and he nibbles the sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my neck.
I jerk myself a little harder, a little faster as I imagine Alex pressing his groin against mine, our cocks rutting against each other through our underwear.
He pulls away from my neck, looking up at me with lust-drunk eyes and lips swollen and red from my kisses.
I press forward, grinding against him as I walk us towards the bed.
Our underwear is gone, and when I crawl on top of him, his cock is thick and hard, leaking and begging for my mouth.
My free hand slips behind my balls while I continue to fuck my fist with the other, eyes squeezed shut as the fantasy plays out in my mind.
Imaginary Alex begs so sweetly for me to suck him while real life me presses lightly against the space between my balls and my rim, lighting up my prostate and sending me over the edge.
I suck in a gasping breath as my cock jerks in my hand, spurting rope after rope of hot cum all over my stomach.
My chest tightens, my legs shake, and imaginary Alex blows his load down my throat while I stroke myself through my release, shuddering from the intensity of the pleasure.
When the orgasm subsides and I return to Earth, I feel only slightly better.
My balls are empty, my dick is sated, but my heart isn’t.
I quickly clean up before crawling back into my bed, and I know that if I cross the line with Alex, I won’t be able to go back to being just friends with him.
If I get my hands on him, I’m never going to want to let him go.
I also know that I don’t have the strength to stop myself if he offers himself up to me again. My only hope now is that Alex is the one to change his mind before Sunday, because I know for a fact that I won’t be able to resist him any longer.
And even though I told him I needed time to think things over and we’d talk after my game, I can’t stop myself from sending a text before the puck drops in Tampa.
{ Elliot: Good luck today, Goat. XOXO
Alex: XOXO to you too El <3 }