Chapter Seven
Dean walked with his guests toward the front door.
“Are we back to normal now? Because that means we won’t be meeting up until just before Christmas.
” And by then the house would appear extremely festive, although not by Suze’s standards.
Her idea of Christmas decorations was to turn her condo into a fairy grotto.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Kris grinned. “We may have to meet up before then, if only so we can get an update on what’s happening with your boy toy.”
“My—” Dean groaned. “Oh my God, that’s even worse than fag hag. Please, don’t.”
“Oh, come on,” Suze remonstrated. “You didn’t expect us to say nothing, did you?” She gave him an evil grin.
“Did you think you’d gotten away with it?” Kate demanded, looking equally gleeful.
“What I think is, not one of you has entertained the possibility that it could all be entirely innocent.” Dean glared at them. “Didn’t it occur to you that maybe Robin needs someone to talk to, someone he can relate to? Maybe what he really needs is a mentor.”
They all stood still for a moment, before Kris laughed his head off. “Nah, what he really needs is a good fucking.”
“Hey, if I’m old enough to be called a cougar, then you can have a boy toy,” Diane said with a grin.
Dean was sure his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. “You’re not—”
“No, I’m not—but I could be if I wanted to.” Her eyes twinkled. She shook her head. “Mentor. I’m pretty certain that’s a euphemism for something.”
Kris nodded. “The older man, teaching the younger man the ways of—”
“Oh my God,” Dean interjected. “I’ve become a cliché.” When his friends laughed, he pointed to the front door. “Out. All of you.” It would have come out better if he hadn’t been trying so hard not to laugh.
Suze pouted. “But you still haven’t told us what you think about Robin.” Her eyes gleamed. “Anyone would think you were hiding something.”
Dean groaned. “Okay, okay. He’s gorgeous, all right? He’s got a sexy-as-fuck body, and no, don’t ask me what I want to do to him, because I won’t tell you.”
“But you do want him,” Diane declared.
Dean gave up. “Yes, of course I want him. I’d be insane not to. And if I thought he’d be remotely interested in a guy my age, I’d pursue that idea, but it’s not gonna happen. Now out.”
“Say hi to Robin for us,” Kris sang as he walked away from the house. “Have fun when you see him next.”
“And tell us all about it,” Kate added.
“Not listening,” Dean yelled as they reached the end of the path. He watched them as they got into their cars and drove away, then closed the door and locked it. He should have known they’d tease him about the age gap.
But am I going to do anything about it?
For all his confession that he was attracted to Robin, Dean knew he wouldn’t make a move on him. Not unless it became obvious Robin wanted that. But there was still the mystery of why Robin had lied about not being able to ski.
Were his friends correct? Was it all part of some ploy because Robin had a crush on him?
There was only one way to find out—talk to Robin.
Robin went into the bathroom to get a glass of water. As he approached his bedroom the sounds from the TV died. Then he caught his name, and strained to listen.
“There must be someone he knows from school. Maybe a boy he hasn’t even considered.” That was his dad. “He can’t be the only gay kid in Lake Placid.”
“Maybe he’s picky,” Mom suggested.
Dad chuckled. “Yeah. Like his mom.”
“Hey!”
Robin had heard enough. He crept into his room and closed the door as silently as possible.
He got into bed and lay back against the pillows, his mind turning over his parents’ conversation.
He didn’t mind them discussing him like that—he’d figured they would—but what struck him most was his dad’s choice of words.
A boy.
There was only one thing wrong with that. Robin didn’t want a boy. He wanted a man.
I want someone with a little experience.
And hadn’t that been why Ryan had come up with the whole ski instruction scenario? In hindsight Robin could admit how uncomfortable the situation had made him. He’d hated lying to Dean like that. Maybe I needed to come right out with it, and say why I was there. What I want.
Except the thought of getting what he wanted sent dual shivers of desire and terror skittering down his spine, and icy tingles spreading over his skin.
Do I dare? Will Dean say yes?
There was only one way to find out.
From beyond his bedroom door came the usual noises that told Robin his parents were going to bed. Problem was, he wasn’t sleepy.
I could always jerk off. That normally sent him off to sleep minutes after he’d come.
He closed his eyes and pictured Dean in his tight jeans and tank top.
Fantasy Dean’s crotch was pretty impressive, and not for the first time, Robin wondered what his dick looked like.
Is he cut? Is it long? Thick? It was inevitable that such thoughts led to two vital questions.
Would it fit?
Fuck. How would it feel inside me?
Maybe it was time to find that out too.
Robin reached over and opened the nightstand drawer as quietly as he could.
It would have made more sense to wait until he was certain his parents were asleep, but he was almost buzzing with the need to discover this new sensation.
He removed the bottle of hand lotion, and set it on top of the nightstand.
Then he reached under the comforter to take off his briefs.
Upon reflection, he pushed the comforter back, and leaned against the padded headboard, his legs spread wide.
A squeeze of hand lotion into his palm, and he was ready.
Robin stroked his dick, coating it with the lotion, not forgetting to rub over his balls too.
He slid his hand lower, shivering as his fingers came into contact with his hole.
There’s no rush. Take your time. He played with his cock, working its length until the shaft was rigid.
Of course, by then he needed more lotion, because damn, it soaked in way too fast.
The first problem was one of logistics, namely, how to get his finger up his ass.
In the end, he had one heel digging into his ass, while he drew up the other, the ball of his foot pressing into the mattress as he tried to raise his ass higher.
He slid one hand down the front of his body, through the crease of his thigh, but it felt awkward.
Then he tried with the other hand with a different approach, coming from behind, sliding his hand under his leg. It still wasn’t right.
In the end, Robin drew his knees up, spread his legs, and balanced on the balls of his feet, tilting his ass a little. More hand lotion, his hole exposed—now he was really ready.
He rubbed slick fingers over his hole, and his cock reacted with a jerk. He held it with his left hand, while he slowly pressed the index finger of his right into his tight, warm hole.
Oh God. He pushed it as deep as he could, wincing a little at the burn.
After squeezing more lotion onto his finger, he tried it again, and this time it was better.
When he’d gotten as far as the knuckle, he tried it with his middle finger, only now he was sliding it in and out, and fuck, it felt incredible.
He alternated between the two fingers, his body writhing as intense pleasure washed over him.
Ryan has no idea what he’s missing out on.
The thought brought a smile, but then he pushed it aside, because thinking of Ryan while he was doing this?
Ew. Another application of lotion, this time to his thumb, and then he pushed it deep, the pad facing forward.
As it connected with his prostate, Robin shuddered.
Oh fuck. He did it again, and again, and soon he was riding his thumb, rocking his ass, chasing the sensations, wanting more, more…
His toes started to ache, so he planted his feet flat to the mattress, pushing into it as he lifted himself up and down, his thumb sliding in and out of him, his other hand gently stroking his shaft.
It was all too much and over way too fast. He stifled a groan as his rigid cock pulsed cum, spurting into the air and landing on his thigh, trickling down his dick and over his sac while he shuddered through it all, his body trembling, his legs most of all.
When the shocks had ebbed away, Robin sagged against the headboard.
Holy fuck. And that was just my fingers.
He cleaned up with tissues, and stowed the lotion away in the drawer. Not that there seemed any point in hiding it now. Robin pulled the comforter up over his body, warm and sated from his orgasm. His last act before switching off his bedside lamp was to glance around his bedroom.
What have I got in here that I can use instead of fingers?
Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and walked into the living room, intending to see if there was anything worth watching on TV.
Monday had seemed longer than usual, and what he really needed was to turn off his brain and watch something mindless and fun that wouldn’t tax him in the slightest. As he picked up the remote, a flash of light outside caught his eye and he walked out of the window.
Robin was coming up the front path with his bike.
Okay. Now what?
Dean went to the front door and opened it as Robin was leaning his bike against the house. “You’re back. You’d better get in out of the cold.”
“Thanks,” Robin murmured. He stepped into the house and Dean closed the door.
Dean folded his arms. “So, what is it this time? Let me guess. You’ve got something that needs unscrewing, and you want to borrow a screwdriver. Or maybe you’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar?”
Robin frowned. “Why would I be here for sugar?”