Chapter 27
FLEX
HAMMER
Once Charlie leaves, I tell Zeke I understand if he wants to head off, too. He says he doesn’t mind hanging out.
Reckon we’re both circling around what we really want.
‘So …’ Zeke says, crumpling his vodka pre-mix can in a finishing gesture.
He has this coy smile, like he’s scared of being in the same space as me, but he also likes it. I have this image of me grabbing him by the back of the head and putting him in a headlock like I used to in the locker room. Why did I enjoy that so much?
‘Should we …?’ Zeke goes on.
My tired grey matter is all panicked about what will happen next, and I chicken out.
‘Get a feed?’ I finish. ‘Yeah, bro, I’m fucken starving.’
A flicker of disappointment goes over Zeke’s face. A feed is defo not what he was about to suggest.
But he’s a polite little geek and he nods and gives me that cute smile again. ‘I had a burger a few hours ago, but I could go for something light …’
We head inside to the living room. I order us some Italian from Sopranos Restaurant around the corner. Zeke pretends to be planning on a salad and ends up getting spaghetti and meatballs. I get a veal parmigiana. We watch the footy on TV while we eat.
‘Now, this is more what I’d expect from a date with Hammer,’ Zeke says, leaning over my coffee table while he’s mopping up his bolognese with some crusty Italian bread. ‘Not Bilby’s onion rings in your brother’s ute.’
‘What was wrong with that? I liked that night.’ I nearly add that I still think of his cock when I eat onion rings, but that might make me sound like a weirdo with an onion ring fetish.
Zeke snorts. ‘Kade, you shot your load and bailed.’
I focus on the footy.
‘I’m not having a go at you,’ Zeke adds, sucking sauce off his finger. Does he want me to notice him doing that? He would look good sucking my cock. ‘We were both confused. Well, back then, we were …’
‘I still dunno, ay,’ I say. ‘About any of it.’
Zeke tears his last piece of tomato sauce–drenched bread in half. ‘Yeah, that tracks,’ he sighs.
I feel so stupid. Did I just torpedo anything happening between us tonight?
‘Are you gonna be okay?’ Zeke prods. ‘Charlie told me about last night – you wanted to …’
‘Yeah.’ I swallow. ‘I’m fine now. It just got on top of me.’
‘You could have called me anytime.’
‘I did. You didn’t answer. That’s why I drove over, and found you … like that.’
‘Right. I’m mortified you saw me like that. But thank you for calling the ambulance.’
I shrug. ‘No biggie. Just returning the favour.’
‘Huh?’
‘The drive-ins, down in Dongara. Remember? Back in the day. You helped me when I flipped out.’
‘Oh yeah …’ Zeke trails off. ‘Look, anyway, I’m here. As a mate. If you ever need.’
Why does it stab me in the chest to hear him only call himself my mate?
‘I reckon I’ll be okay now,’ I tell him.
Zeke finishes his food and pushes his plate away, like he’s about to leave. I don’t know what I want from Zeke, but I know I don’t want him to bounce.
‘You’ll stay until the end of the game, yeah?’ I shoot quickly.
Zeke’s Adam’s apple bobs in his thick neck. ‘Yeah. Okay. Sure.’
I focus on the game. Collingwood versus Norf. One of the Norf players takes a speccy over the back of the Pies full-back, uses him like a stepladder. Me and Zeke both shout at the TV.
‘Dunno if Baker will kick this goal,’ Zeke says, tapping his Sportsbet app. ‘Statistically, he only averages 0.4 goals per game this season. I’ve got him in my multi for fifteen disposals, though.’
‘Nah, he’ll get the goal – he’s an accurate kick – but he won’t get fifteen touches,’ I say matter-of-factly.
Zeke looks bent out of shape. ‘Statistically, he will,’ he says. ‘He averages eighteen disposals a game.’
‘Sure, but he won’t get that tonight. Matched up against Williams.’
‘But—’
‘Mark my words. I’m right,’ I say flatly.
Zeke fumes. Baker kicks the goal. ‘I forgot how arrogant you are,’ he mutters.
I kick back on the couch and put my hands behind my head, flexing at him in a way I hope looks casual and incidental. ‘I’m not arrogant,’ I say. ‘I’m just always right.’
Zeke snorts.
‘As if you don’t fucken love it,’ I say.
Zeke’s face softens immediately; there’s a static charge in the room suddenly.
‘I guess confidence is attractive,’ he says, before returning to his Sportsbet app.
Something like jet fuel starts to circulate through my bloodstream, firing up my groin.
Without even thinking about it, I yank my singlet off and sling it onto the floor, exposing my chest and returning to my chill pose on the couch, hands behind my back.
‘Bit warm,’ I mutter, like it’s normal to take my shirt off. ‘That doesn’t bother you, does it?’
Zeke looks at my rig with awe, the same way I used to catch him checking me out in the locker room at school. ‘I’m not bothered,’ he says softly.
He locks gazes with me and I can’t look away from those stunning dark Italian eyes. Fuck, he’d look so sexy on the end of my cock.
‘I’m a bit warm, too,’ Zeke says, tugging on the neck of the hoodie I gave him last night.
He stands up, rips the hoodie off and slings it to the floor on top of my singlet, then makes a show of bending over to put his phone on the table.
His arse is big and round, my spare footy shorts tight against them cheeks.
Fuck, I wanna see that cake. I wanna eat it.
Zeke flops back on the opposite end of the couch, shirtless. His chest is even hairier than when I knew him. We’re positioned so we’re facing each other, both shirtless in footy shorts and reclining on the couch, our feet touching in the middle.
My gaze is roaming all over Zeke’s body. I wanna pick him up in my arms, carry him around my apartment and then push him up against a wall and drill him.
‘Haven’t seen that in a while,’ Zeke smirks, nodding to my crotch, where MC Hammer has sprung to life, curling out the side of my footy shorts.
I swallow. I want to grab him and kiss him, but I know the moment I do I’ll never be able to get off that train. I’ll be accepting it, for real, if I do this tonight.
Zeke seems to read the panic on my face. ‘Hey … if this is too much for you, I get it. I don’t wanna take advantage of you after what you went through last night.’
I swallow harder. ‘Yeah, me, too. Like you were in hospital and shit.’
‘We’ve both had a hectic twenty-four hours. Maybe now isn’t the time. We’re not animals.’
‘We’re not animals. Yeah.’
Zeke draws his arms around his exposed chest and turns away.
I don’t feel relief. Just disappointment. And in that disappointment is the grief of everything I’ve denied myself since I first started having these feelings. The knowledge that kissing Zeke would have filled me with ecstasy.
My brain floods with memories. My first twitch at Hugh Jackman’s shiny biceps in X-Men.
My first wet dream showering with AFL players.
Doug’s mate Benno, who always wore singlets.
The muscular actor in a drive-in movie. A guy in red Speedos.
Zeke looking at my body as I tell him to flex for me.
A million guys in pubs, locker rooms, footy ovals, my DMs. Brick rubbing his hands all over me.
This big glowing joyous rush hits me all at once. I like men.
For the first time in my life, admitting this makes me feel good: head to feet I tingle with the elation of knowing what I like and loving myself for it.
‘Although,’ Zeke says suddenly, ‘biologically speaking, humans are animals.’
I grin, and I think my eyes tell him everything, but I don’t care anymore. ‘Oh, really? You were always good at science class, ay.’
Zeke nods seriously. ‘We like to think we’re better than animals, but we’re not. We’re just animals. And animals can be really friggin’ dumb. They make bad decisions all the time.’
I rub my foot against his. He rubs back.
‘Realistically, we’re probably no better than rabbits,’ Zeke adds.
‘I hear they root a lot, ay.’
Zeke’s eyes widen comically. ‘Like constantly. Breeding over and over.’ He swallows, rubbing his hairy calf against mine. ‘Or getting bred. Whatever floats their boats.’
My head is spinning with the best drug in the world. ‘I’d breed you, bro,’ I offer.
Zeke bites his lip. ‘Well, what the fuck are you waiting for?’
The jet fuel ignites in my arteries, and I am turbocharged, bouncing over the couch, pinning Zeke down under me and kissing him, my tongue absolutely starved for him.
His legs wrap around my waist. I wrap my arms around his back, pressing our naked chests together, flesh on flesh, heat on heat.
Tensing my muscles, I pull Zeke up off the couch, his tongue now invading my mouth, and I rise to a standing position, Zeke in my arms. He tastes like meatballs and he clings to me like a koala.
I carry Zeke into my bathroom as we make out, then slowly lower him onto the bathroom sink as he traces his hands over my muscles.
I yank my footy shorts down and he pulls his off, too.
I flex for him and he breaks his mouth away from mine to let out a moan and say, ‘God, please do that again. That’s so fucking hot. ’
‘You’re the hot one,’ I tell him. ‘Sexy Italian angel.’
I stand in front of him in my bathroom mirror, showing off my body, flexing and tensing: the Big Dog in all his naked glory.
Zeke rubs his hands over my muscles – my biceps and triceps, my delts, then my pecs, sucking my nipples, his tongue tracing my abs and settling onto my hard quads, which he kisses, his mouth an inch from my nuts.
MC Hammer stands to attention. Zeke settles onto his knees and sucks me off.
I grab the back of Zeke’s head, beckoning him up.
He obeys my touch, rising to a standing position.
His head only comes up to my shoulder. I lean down and kiss him hard, deliberate, out of bounds on the full.
I look Zeke in the eyes – dark, chocolatey, staring at me with hunger.
Then I let my gaze roam lower, to the thickness of his neck, the curly hair and contours of his chest. I reach out and trace my finger around his left nipple, and Zeke spasms with a soft moan; beneath the pad of my finger, his nipple becomes erect and excited, encircled with little bumps, like goosebumps.
‘You remember,’ Zeke mutters, his neck arching back.
‘Mighta thought about that night once or twice,’ I say casually, smirking at him.
I wrap my arms around his back to hold him tight, then close my mouth over his hard nipple. I lick it gently with my tongue, once, twice, before closing my lips over it and kissing it, sucking it, as hard as Zeke was just sucking my cock.
Zeke squirms with pleasure. The noises he makes are so hungry and they rev me up.
‘We should’ve been doing this all along, Kade. We wasted so much time.’
‘Good thing we can make up for it, ay?’ I say.
‘Any time you want, I swear,’ Zeke pants. ‘I’m yours.’
‘Good,’ I say, slapping his arse. ‘Cos I want you to turn around and bend over.’
Once Zeke is doubled over, his furry arse facing me, his arms against the bathroom wall to buttress him, I step up behind him, spit on my cock and push it inside him.
I don’t rush it. I slide in slowly, staring at our united reflection in the bathroom mirror as I start to fuck him doggy style, deep and hard.
Zeke braces himself against the wall and begs me to drill him harder, and I do, jackhammer style, thrusting hard and fast, until he’s moaning.
In the mirror, my quads bulge as I thrust; my bicep peaks flex as I hold Zeke in place; sweat beads on my pecs.
Zeke’s arse cheeks turn red as I spank them; his olive-skinned back arches as I pound him; his meaty cock and nuts swing back and forth with me.
Our bodies sway in a tectonic rhythm, earthquaking faster and faster towards the bliss of our eruption: perfection, as far as the eye can see.