Chapter 28
SUCCO
ZEKE
A ray of sunlight scrapes my eye through an opening in the curtain as I wake up on Hammer’s bed.
We passed out naked together, both face-down like we just crashed there right after sex, out of sheer physical exertion.
Hammer’s leg is hooked over mine like he wanted to make sure I stayed there all night.
The outbreath of a small air-conditioner is breezily wafting through my arse hairs.
Now with post-nut clarity, my brain starts to do the opposite of sex: I think.
I think how Sabrina said it was fucked up to crush on my bully.
I think whether we could ever sustain a conversation long enough to build a relationship.
I think about him being the boy I bring home to my parents and I can’t see it.
I think how any relationship with him would have to be secret.
I think about whether I’ll ever want the restrictions of monogamy; how all I want is sexual freedom, like Curtis in his Castro heyday.
Hammer stirs next to me. He tilts his head towards me, eyes still closed. I think he’s about to kiss me, but then he rips a deafening burp, fouling my nostrils with warm whiskey and veal breath.
Then his hand flops onto my side of the bed, and touches my arm, and he startles awake at the surprise there’s someone in bed beside him.
His eyes are ice-blue but soft when he sees me, his whole face gentle and boyish in a way that escaped him as a teenager.
He looks peaceful and armourless. ‘Hey,’ he says, sleepy and hungover. ‘There’s a hot guy in my bed.’
He chuckles, with this playful smile at me, and his fingers tickle my rib cage, teasingly. I flinch but I like it.
‘You’re hot,’ he adds, louder, a declaration to his ceiling. He’s not just saying it to me, but tasting the new permission on his tongue. ‘You’re really hot, man. And nice. Hot and nice. Did you have a good time last night? You liked it, yeah?’
I can’t fight off a massive grin, and I let it blast through the dark recesses of my overthinking brain like a laser beam. I don’t want to overthink my way out of the best I’ve ever felt. Last night was awesome. If Hammer makes me happy, maybe that’s all that matters.
‘I had the best time,’ I confirm.
‘Me too,’ he says. ‘Hey, you want some juice? I only got pineapple, sorry – I know you like orange.’
‘I’m not like, a hardcore orange juice evangelist,’ I mutter.
‘But you kept asking for it at the hospital.’
‘That’s all they were offering me. Pineapple juice is fine.’
We get up. Hammer’s five-inch cock dangles in its banana curve over his nuts and he doesn’t bother putting his shorts back on, so I don’t either.
He offers me his hand, and I take it, trailing behind him, watching his muscled arse and its tan lines moving freely in front of me.
I grab his arse cheek and he flexes it in my grip, then turns to me with this cheeky boofhead grin of elation, like he’s won the Brownlow.
In the kitchen, among a ton of supplements and protein tubs, Hammer pours us each a glass of pineapple juice.
‘You know what they say about pineapple juice, ay?’ he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
I snort. ‘Yeah, of course. Makes your cum sweet. Allegedly.’
Hammer side-eyes the full glasses of juice. ‘You wanna test it out?’
‘Uh, I don’t think it works that quickly.’
‘Yeah, no shit. But we’re gonna do this again, right?’
I shut my brain off, let my balls make the decision. ‘Yep,’ I say. ‘Fuckbuddies?’
Hammer’s face is softer again, boyish and charming and, I realise, wanting me to like him as much as I want him to like me. ‘Fuckbuddies who like each other?’ he asks, with a fragile smile.
I know being fuckbuddies with Hammer would mean being secret fuckbuddies – he might never come out to the whole world – but I don’t care.
‘That’d work,’ I agree.
We drink our pineapple juice, a promise of a next time, and make out a bit before ending up on his bed again, sucking each other off and confirming it was too soon for the pineapple juice to make our cum sweet instead of salty.
Then Hammer has some lunch to go to with his teammates, so I shower and leave.
As I wait for my Uber on the South Perth street below Hammer’s apartment building, I have the fleeting fear this will go the same way it did years ago.
That Hammer said all the right things while I was in front of him, but now I’ve left, I’ll never hear from him for another seven years.
Fuckbuddies who like each other is a nice idea, but what if he’s wrong about it leading to a second time?
I fight the urge to message him for needy reassurance, but while I’m still struggling with that, my phone vibrates.
Hammer messaged me first.
Oi, Baker only got 12 disposals last night. I told ya. I’m always right.