Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CALLAN
Diego stares at me like I just broke his entire brain. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said that? He was obviously hinting though, wasn’t he? His cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and he drags in a deep breath, then barks out a laugh like the whole thing was a joke.
My shoulders sag in relief and I join in with a chuckle to keep the mood light. Bummer. I definitely would have sucked him off, even if it was just a “curious, horny straight guy” moment.
I’m finished seasoning the fish, but I’m going to need to wash my hands before I go outside and start the grill.
Diego’s standing right in front of the sink though, so with my dirty hands held up carefully, like a surgeon trying not to touch anything, I take a few steps towards him, expecting him to get the hint and move out of the way so I can wash up.
Instead of moving though, he keeps his eyes fixed on me as I close the space between us, his cheeks turning a shade darker.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Diego wanted me to kiss him. But that can’t be it… not if he’s as straight as he claims. A blowjob can be explained away in the straight man’s brain, but a kiss between two guys? That’s gay as hell. Well… it’s at least bisexual.
“I need the sink,” I finally say when doesn’t move, still staring right at me with a slightly dazed look in those pretty blue eyes of his.
He blinks and huffs another laugh, dipping his head slightly and raking his fingers through his hair as he steps out of the way so I can wash my hands.
He leans against the counter next to me and I swear the soft bulge pressing against the front of his shorts looks just a little thicker and more solid than usual.
That’s probably my imagination. Wishful thinking.
Once my hands are clean, he pulls a bag of charcoal, lighter fluid, and a lighter from one of his cupboards, and I head outside to start the grill.
It’s a damn nice view from his balcony. It’s too bad it’s too hot for us to sit outside.
The grill is on the small side, but it should do for cooking up a couple of salmon as long as I wrap the veggies in foil and stick them down with the coals to save room.
Now I just need to give it time to heat up.
I head back inside and find Diego on the couch with Slapshot by his feet and some hockey podcast playing on the TV—more speculation about the future of his career. He has one foot up on the coffee table, his knee bouncing as he absently chews on his fingernails.
“Dude,” I mutter, crossing the room and picking up the remote to turn off the TV. “You can’t sit around listening to that shit and letting it get into your head.”
He stops chewing on his nail and I notice just a little bit of blood where he’s been gnawing on it. He wipes it off on his shirt and stops bouncing his knee.
“Yes, Coach,” he says with a small chuckle.
Heat rockets through my gut and I have to turn away so he won’t see how fast my cock stiffens.
The thin material of my gym shorts doesn’t do a damn thing to hide the shape of my quickly hardening erection either.
I do my best to keep my body angled slightly away until I sit down next to him.
With my leg propped up on the coffee table, mirroring his position, it’s a lot harder to see my overexcited dick.
I’m still holding on to the remote, so I sling my free arm across the back of the couch, my fingertips inadvertently brushing his shoulder, and I flip the TV back on and quickly navigate away from the channel he was watching and onto one of the apps with movies instead.
With a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, I look up the original Mighty Ducks movie and put it on.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Diego settles a little deeper into the couch. “I used to watch this movie on repeat when I was a kid.”
“Same.” I toss the remote onto the coffee table. “I basically had a rotation going between this, The Karate Kid, and The Sand Lot.”
“Oh damn, I forgot about The Sand Lot. I loved that movie.”
We fall silent for a few minutes, watching the start of the movie while the grill heats up outside. Diego moves his leg down off the table and makes himself comfortable with his thighs spread and one hand casually resting over the bulge of his soft(ish) cock.
“You didn’t mean that earlier, did you?” he asks, his eyes trained on the TV.
I sigh. “Listen, Fergie, you’re probably the first straight guy I’ve hung out with in at least a decade, and I don’t want to freak you out. So, whatever answer will make it so you’re still comfortable with me as your trainer, can we just go with that?”
Maybe that’s still too honest, but I’ve always been a shit liar and there’s no way I’m going to be able to pretend that I wouldn’t absolutely gag myself on his dick if given half a chance.
“If I said I was horny and wanted you to suck my dick, you’d get on your knees right now?” His voice is low and husky and his hand twitches over his cock as he asks the question.
“Don’t act like it’s a foreign concept. I doubt you’ve ever had to work that hard to get a woman on her knees either.” I try deflection instead of admitting just how hard my cock is now, how my heart is beating out of my chest hoping that he’ll just say the word and let me rock his fucking world.
Not to brag or anything, but I am a world class cock-sucker.
He’s quiet for another second, still staring at the TV, his knee bouncing again and his cock too hard to hide behind his hand now.
He said it’s been ages since he’s gotten off with anyone else, so I’m sure just the thought of a hot, wet mouth suctioned around his cock has him so fucking horny he can hardly think straight…
pun intended. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
It won’t mean anything. But damn, even if it’s just this once and we never talk about it again, I want it.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally tears his eyes away from the TV to look at me.
“Suck my dick?” he asks gruffly.
DIEGO
Some part of me, trained by years of locker room pranks and jokes centered on challenging other guys’ sexuality and masculinity, expects Callan to laugh and tell me he was only fucking with me all along.
But instead, he visibly grips his own cock through his shorts, pulling the fabric tighter around it as he squeezes the base.
If I had a dollar for every dick I’ve seen in my life, the amount would probably double my Huskies paycheck.
I’ve seen them hard, soft, cut, uncut, long, short, thick, crooked, you name it.
But there’s something about not seeing Callan’s cock that makes it feel…
dirtier? Only seeing the outline in his shorts almost makes me want to see it.
I only have half a second to dwell on that though before he lets go of his own cock, uses his foot to shove the coffee table across the wood floor to make space, and then sinks to his knees just like he said he would.
Oh fuck.
Are we really doing this?
My heart flails wildly against my rib cage and my cock throbs so hard I can see it visibly twitching through my shorts.
In my defense, I haven’t gone this long without another person getting me off since I lost my virginity.
It has nothing to do with the hunger suddenly etched into Callan’s expression or the heat of his hands as he slides his fingers under the waistband of my shorts and starts to tug them down.
I’d be desperate to have anyone’s mouth on me right now.
Slater said it wasn’t gay, and the logic checks out from where I’m sitting. It’s just a mouth, and my dick is so damn hard right now that I’m not going to waste any more time overthinking it.
I lift my hips off the couch to help Callan tug my shorts and briefs down.
My cock bounces and my balls tighten at the sudden coolness of the air conditioning.
I kick my shorts the rest of the way off and he settles himself between my spread thighs, staring at my dick for a few long seconds.
I feel like I should want to cover myself or bury my fingers in his short hair and coax him to hurry up and get on with it already.
But there’s something kind of… hot about the way he’s looking at me.
It makes me want to put on some kind of show to impress him.
Although, he seems plenty impressed with my cock just the way it is, no Cirque du Soleil required.
“Damn, that’s a nice cock,” he murmurs.
My cock twitches at the praise, a little pearl of precum beading on my slit and my legs parting a little wider without any conscious thought on my part.
Callan leans in closer and his hot breath dances along my shaft, making every vein throb and my balls feel heavy with anticipation.
I can hardly take it. It’s been so damn long and I’m so fucking horny.
I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, standing it up straight, and I give it a slow stroke.
The crown flushes a deeper shade of pink and swells as my grip forces more blood into it.
The bead of precum gets bigger until I catch it on my thumb and rub it around the hot, sensitive skin of my cockhead.
“Suck it?” I ask again, my voice even huskier than before, right on the edge of sounding like a plea.
He braces his hands on my thighs and brings his lips only an inch from my cock, holding my gaze.
“Say please,” he demands.
The flutter of his humid breath on my cockhead makes my balls ache and my cock pulse with another twitch again.
“Don’t be a dick, man.” I stroke myself again, angling my cock towards his mouth on the upstroke.
“I don’t want you to pretend tomorrow that I talked you into this. So, say please so we both know you want my mouth, and then you can have it.”
Fuuuuck. I’m not really about to beg another man to suck my dick, am I?
His fingers dig into my thighs just a little, his eyes still trained on mine as he waits for me to say the magic word. It’s no big deal. Just one simple word and I’ll have the pleasure of dumping my load somewhere other than my own hand. No one else will ever have to know.
“Please.” I barely part my lips enough to quietly mumble the word, but that seems to be good enough for Callan.
He opens his mouth and snakes his tongue over my slick, throbbing cockhead. The wet slide of his tongue coaxes more precum from my slit as my head lolls back and a moan tightens my throat.
“Fuck,” I gasp, squeezing my shaft harder. I jerk my hips, grinding the tip of my cock against his warm, wet tongue. “Please, suck me.” The words fall effortlessly from my lips this time, followed by a faint whine that I might be embarrassed by if I weren’t too damn horny to care.
He closes his lips around my cock, and the relief alone is enough to drag a groan from deep in my gut.
I let my hand fall away, expecting Callan to replace it with his.
He meets my gaze with a spark of cockiness shining in his eyes as he slides his mouth down my cock, deeper, deeper, deeper until I hit the back of his throat and he swallows around me, taking those last few inches.
The clench of his throat around my cock and the feeling of his hot breath fluttering through my pubes makes my toes curl and my whole body squirm involuntarily for more, harder, faster, deeper.
I want him to turn me inside out with his mouth alone.
I dig my fingers into the couch cushions and let my eyelids flutter closed.
He makes a grunting sound in his throat that vibrates through my shaft before he pulls back and swallows me down all over again.
When Slater first mentioned the idea that straight guys can get blowjobs from other men, I figured I would picture a woman while it was happening.
But now that I’m actually here and I can hear the deep, masculine grunts Callan is making around my cock and feel his thick, not-at-all feminine fingers digging into my thighs and the subtle scrape of his stubble against my balls every time he swallows me down, it’s impossible to imagine that it’s anyone else with their head between my legs.
It’s fine though, that still doesn’t make it gay. I don’t know what it makes it, actually, but it feels too fucking good for me to overthink it.
He slobbers around my cock, sucking me with muffled, hungry moans and filthy slurps every time he pulls back and tightens his lips around my crown before swallowing me whole all over again.
My thighs start to tremble and my hips jerk involuntarily, burying my cock even deeper in the tight grip of his throat.
Fuck, it’s good. It’s too damn good.
My fingers end up tugging at his short hair and my balls slap against his chin with every wild, desperate, horny thrust I make to fill his throat, to feel the wet drag of his tongue down my shaft and the suction of his lips.
I slam deep one more time and my orgasm rushes over me like a freight train, inevitable but somehow managing to catch me completely off guard.
I howl, my toes curling tight again and my whole body quaking as my balls clench and my cock pulses.
Callan swallows, and the constriction of his throat around my throbbing cockhead sends me spiraling into fucking orbit, painting his tongue with rope after rope of my release that he gulps down greedily.
And when the pulsing starts to slow, he laps at my slit, coaxing out every remaining drop until my balls are so fucking drained that they’re actually sore, and my cock starts to soften between his lips.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing his head away weakly and sagging into the couch.
I force my eyes open slightly, even though all my body wants to do is sink in deeper and fall asleep after such an epic orgasm.
Callan’s face is flushed from the effort, and his mouth is damp and swollen.
He drags the back of his hand across his lips to dry them off, then stands up, not bothering to hide the massive erection tenting his shorts.
Does he want me to do something about it?
My stomach squirms and my already overheated skin gets even hotter, but he doesn’t make a move to pull his dick out or say anything about it.
He just shoots me a cocky grin and a quick wink.
“The grill should be about ready, so I’m going to go toss the food on real quick.”
Oh right, the food.
So… he’s staying?
Of course he’s staying. It’s not like he’s some booty call I invited over just to blow me. We’re going to eat and watch TV, just regular shit. And I’m going to pretend I didn’t just get the best fucking blowjob of my life from a dude.
Cool. It’s all totally cool.