I'm not even going to bother with the apology this time. It's been more than a year (!) since part three of "A Closer Shave" and, if it wasn't for the occasional - and very welcome - email about whether I intended to continue it, I'd have probably assumed it was a lost cause. Thank you, if you sent me a message either by email or through my tumblr: you rock.
What I told those people over the past twelve months is this: I've been distracted with another story, because "Jockboy Auction" has been picked up by publisher Loose Id. In fact, it's been released in the past few days as "Jock Auction" - everything people told me they loved about Kyle and Craig's intense relationship (and their equally intense sex!) but with proper editing, a sexy cover, and most importantly an actual ending!
Anyway, you can find out more details - plus how to get a copy - at www.AlexPendragon.com
Meanwhile, thanks to Danny and Andrew for their proofreading, and let's see how things are progressing with Tommy and Andrews...
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A Closer Shave - Part 4
Just saying yes. Shouldn't be a big deal; shouldn't make any real difference at all. Just a word, right? A single syllable at that.
And yet that "yes" was enough to send the last few doubts fleeing from Tommy's mind. Enough that the last twists of tension across his shoulders miraculously eased themselves out.
Just a word, but it left Tommy liberated.
As he watched, eyes wide in the dim light of the bedroom, Andrews took a half-step toward him, closing the gap between them. The older youth's hand was already reaching out, fingertips meeting the taut strips of muscle that circled Tommy's ribcage. Soft pads slipping down, against the edges of his developing abs, and to the plain grey waistband of his boxer-briefs.
"Wake up," Andrews chided, gently, nudging Tommy from his breath-holding reverie. The smile was friendly, teasing, but his lust was clear all the same.
Tommy stepped into the man's touch, brought up his own hand to rest on Andrews' hip, palm half on flesh and half on the fabric of his briefs.
"It's not that I..." he started, "I'm not having second thoughts..." Andrews eyebrow arched, though the grin remained. "It's just new, is all."
Andrews pulled suddenly, and Tommy gasped at the warmth as their bodies met.
"Let me tell you a little secret," he whispered into Tommy's ear, a hand at the small of his back. "New things are generally more fun when you embrace them unreservedly."
Maybe it was the pep-talk, or the feel of Andrews' cock so clearly pushed against his own - telegraphing so insistently quite how much he wanted it too - that saw Tommy take the older swimmer's ass in both hands, squeezing the cheeks through the thin cotton. Muscled, and tight, with just enough give in them to leave Tommy wondering what it might feel like if the underwear wasn't in the way.
And yet he didn't have to wonder, did he, Tommy reminded himself. He had the green-light to find out if he wanted to.
With his thumbs, he tugged down on the thick Diesel waistband, stretching it back over the arch of Andrews' butt, until it clung underneath. Andrews' skin was smooth and warm, somehow even more exciting to the touch than it had been before. Tommy's fingers pushed against the muscles, Andrews tensing and relaxing as the youth's grip slipped and adjusted.
"These are pedestrian and I need to get you out of them," Andrews said, wryly, pulling at Tommy's own underwear. Tommy chuckled.
"Pedestrian?" he questioned, feigning insult. Andrews nodded, already dragging the apparently offensive item down past Tommy's hips.
"They're what an unimaginative fratboy would let his mom buy for him."
Tommy laughed at that. "Oh, and you're telling me you turn down unimaginative fratboys?"
Andrews grinned, though it might have been at the sensation of his palms running against Tommy's bare skin.
"I'm telling you I have higher expectations of the guys I like."
Nodding sagely, Tommy couldn't suppress a quick shudder when Andrews' hand briefly dipped between his legs. Sudden memories of that sly, eager finger probing his hole as the man had worked his oily cock expertly.
"I may need some advice," he admitted, voice husky as he echoed Andrews' kneading motion against his ass, the heat from between his cheeks roasting against his fingertips. A tiny part of his brain was screaming about how out of character it was to be touching another guy there, but the rest of him was caught up in nothing more than the intimacy and how aroused he was by it.
"Anytime," Andrews muttered, then brought his lips close to Tommy's own, the youth quickly closing the distance and their tongues again dueling.
It was a hungry kiss, an eager, unrestrained one, made more intense with the feeling of Andrews' fingertips as they brushed rhythmically across Tommy's opening. He felt his legs flex, toes curling as he angled his body so as to increase the contact, Andrews in turn doing his best to maintain the same, teasing cadence.
Eventually Tommy broke the kiss, breathless and wide-eyed.
"What do you want me to do?"
If he'd expected his friend to eagerly instruct him, he was disappointed. Andrews sighed, glanced away before meeting Tommy's gaze again.
"Look," he said, "what I want is for you to engage. I don't need some join-the-dots freshman wanting the recipe for getting off with another guy. I want someone who actually gets into it."
Tommy frowned. Eventually, Andrews stare softened.
"Let me guess, you've not really been with many girls, have you." Tommy felt himself blushing, still managed to shake his head in agreement. "And what you've done this week, it's all felt like a rollercoaster and not something you had much say in, right?"
The blush doubled in intensity, if such a thing was possible. No, Tommy certainly hadn't felt like he had very much say at all in what he'd done, either with Andrews to begin with or then any of the other guys who had taken his strait-laced boundaries and smudged them out of all recognition.
Andrews' took Tommy's face, cradling it carefully. "I'm not going to force you to do anything, Tommy. I'm not going to demand that you do anything you don't feel comfortable trying. But, at the same time, I'm not going to allow you to take the easy route out, and be some passive participant who only ever has stuff done to him. Trust me, it's much more fun if you get involved."
Tommy bit his lip. Everything Andrews was saying made sense, but it was a big step from allowing yourself to get caught up in doing things with another guy, to actively going looking for that. And yet, it wasn't like Andrews' body wasn't keeping him rock-hard, or as though he was any less eager to put his hands on all the parts he'd covertly checked out in the locker room.
So now he had permission. No! Not just permission, but an open invitation. An invitation to try whatever he could think of to try, without having to worry about what Andrews might think of him or, if his comments could be taken at face-value, without having to fear being made to do something that didn't feel right.
Tommy didn't know much, but he instinctively knew that an opportunity like that didn't come along every day.
"I-I... I want to suck your dick," he stammered, trying to meet Andrews' gaze but only part-succeeding. "I want to lick your chest. Your abs, I mean. And... and I guess I want you to put your finger in my ass again. I mean, if that's okay with you, and..."
"Dude," Andrews interrupted, a sizable smile on his face. "You don't have to give me a shopping list. We can just... get on with it, y'know?"
For a moment Tommy felt dumb, but he didn't have long to languish in the sensation, as Andrews pulled him toward the bed. Sat on the edge, Tommy straddling his lap with his knees up on the comforter, he ran his hands from the youth's waist up to his shoulder blades and back again.
"Were you hard when you shaved me?" Tommy asked, voice low as though for the first time he was worried someone might overhear them. Andrews rolled his eyes.
"Like a fucking rock, what do you think."
Tommy grinned at the thought of it. "As hard as you are now?"
Andrews reached between their bodies, adjusting his cock in his tented briefs, the smoothness of Tommy's junk brushing against the back of his hand in the process.
"Why don't you stop asking dumb questions and check for yourself?"
Tommy pushed him back, until Andrews was leaning back on his elbows, looking down the perfect expanse of his torso. Tommy knew that he was completely exposed: legs spread across Andrews' narrow hips, cock throbbing in front of him. He forced himself to keep his arms by his sides.
"You're beautiful," Andrews observed, quietly, and somehow that left Tommy feeling even more naked than his actual nudity did. Unsure what the correct response might be - "you too" seemed trite, somehow - instead he shuffled back on his knees and looked down to the tangle of Andrews' briefs beneath him.
The white cotton contrasted perfectly with Andrews' creamy tan, while the thickness of his eager hardness was clear as it stretched against the material's grip. Tommy ran a finger along its length, glancing up to receive an approving look from the older youth, and then let it fill his palm, cupping his grip around the rigid meat.
Peeling down the briefs was inevitable, then, Andrews lifting his hips so that Tommy could tug the scant covering to mid-thigh.
That small patch of hair, all that was left after Andrews' own personal maintenance. The girth of his shaft, big and beautifully proportioned. Tommy's hand gripped around the base on autopilot, feeling it jerk and twitch in his grasp. The head was slick with Andrews' excitement, and Tommy dipped his lips to it, letting the wetness smear across his mouth and the clean, musky aroma fill his senses.
And then he was leaning in, letting the bluntness of that head push carefully through his lips and fill his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sharp ridge of it as Andrews' contented groan rewarded his ears. Lips stretched taut, coming to bump against his fingers as he began a careful bobbing - like coach had insisted on, but calling the shots himself now and all the happier, the hornier, for it - with his cheeks dimpling as he sucked and slobbered on Andrews' prick.
"That feels incredible," Andrews told him, and Tommy's body shuddered with pride, the older boy's praise an aphrodisiac like he could never have imagined. Reaching down with his other hand, he gripped the long, smooth length of his own dick and gingerly tugged on it, instinctively knowing that the newness of the sensations radiating through him wouldn't take much to tip him over the edge.
"Why don't you let me take care of that," Andrews purred, arching his eyebrows as Tommy glanced up the stretch of his lithe body, mouth obscenely full of swimmer cock. He grunted his approval at the idea, allowing Andrews' hands to turn him until his body was at right-angles.
Andrews let a finger trail down between Tommy's cheeks, chuckling at the youth's eager wriggle at the sensation, then grasped his hard and dangling prick between his spread thighs. Tommy bucked at the bold, milking motions his experienced partner made, one hand cupping his shaven balls while the other made long, determined strokes from root to tip.
"Oh, fuck it..." Andrews muttered, and Tommy felt his leg being lifted, cocked over the prone man's body until his thighs were either side of his face. For a second he had a chance to wonder at the position, almost flinch at what he knew Andrews would be face to face with, but then his whole spine arched as if electrified as a tongue slicked its way across his ass.
"Jesus...!" he gasped, pulling his mouth off Andrews' for the first time since he'd started sucking him, and hearing the other giggle - more a vibration than a sound - as more of the incredible sensations radiated out from his hole. "Oh fuck... oh, oh fuck!"
Andrews was eager and unrelenting, first brushing the broad wet flatness of his whole tongue across Tommy's eighteen year old crack, and then circling in with the tip to push at his tight core, coaxing the overwhelmed muscle into acquiescence. It only took a few strokes and Tommy was pushing back to meet him, his ass freshly addicted to the feelings Andrews was generating.
A tongue slid down, hands angling hips so that it could run the length of a rigid teenage erection and finally suckle on the leaking tip, Tommy not sure whether he wanted to bury himself in the older youth's throat or firmly plant his twitching hole back on Andrews' lips. In the end, though, Andrews made the decision for him, guiding Tommy's shaft through the curve of his gullet until the smoothness of the boy's groin was plastered against his face.
"Holy CRAP," Tommy whimpered, head thrown back as he worked his fist on Andrews' cock. It was like his dick was being suctioned from every direction by a million warm, wet vacuum cleaners. Like being jerked off by a million tiny hands each slick and determined and tight around you.
Andrews grunted - shivers rocketed down Tommy's shaft - and then manhandled the cock from his throat, gasping eagerly as he rubbed his face against its slippery wetness. "Fuck, you're hot," he insisted, planting a smack on Tommy's ass that quickly evolved into rubbing the cheeks and eventually plying fingertips against his spit-slicked entrance.
"Yessss..." Tommy hissed again, as Andrews corkscrewed a finger into his tightness, eagerly returning the older man's dick to his mouth while knowing hands mauled his ass.
Soon it was the combined efforts of Andrews tongue and his fingers bringing Tommy's hole to new heights of excitement, and even without a hand on the swimmer's cock he could feel the eruption building. Spreading his grip flat on Andrews' closely-cropped groin, he progressively fed more and more of the twenty year old's shaft into his throat, feeling his gag reflex twitch and subside as he stretched his lips further down each time.
It was the push of Andrews' cock head against the back of his throat, and the feel of two of the youth's fingers tugging his ass open so his tongue could lap eagerly at Tommy's naive flesh that pushed him past the point of no return. "Oh... oh, fuck..." he gasped, voice muffled with dick, knowing Andrews was fully aware of what was happening to his teenage body.
Cum spattered between them, Tommy feeling some of it hit his chin as he gulped around Andrews' hardness, the rest smeared across abs and chests. Leaving two gently pistoning fingers in Tommy's hole, Andrews reached under the youth and squeezed the final drops out, until he shook and yelped at the overwhelming sensations.
Tommy rolled off Andrews' body, hand still working his cock, gasping for breath.
"Oh man, I didn't... I mean, I never... Holy fuck!"
Andrews laughed, giving Tommy another quick stroke until the youth slapped his hand away from his sensitive dick. "What happened to wanting to lick my abs, eh?"
Tommy tilted his head, something which seemingly required some effort to do, and gazed up the well-creamed expanse of Andrews' sculpted torso.
"I don't know, man..." He licked his lips, swollen and red. Could he really do that, with his own cum all over?
""More fun if you get involved," right?" Andrews reminded him, winking. Tommy giggled, leaning over until his head was resting on the swimmer's abdomen.
"You do have amazing abs," he observed. Andrews grinned.
"I do, and they taste great, too."
Tommy tilted his head, cheek against Andrews' muscles, and gingerly extended his tongue. A beat, and then he let it slide between the ridges of the older youth's stomach, the taste of sweat and cum filling his senses. More eager now, bracing himself on his outstretched arm so that he could lap his way the full length of Andrews' stomach, mouth smeared with cream as he worked up the lean torso.
Andrews helped him to straddle his body, until Tommy felt his thick cock pressing between his cheeks like a slippery hotdog in a bun. "I don't know if I can..." he whispered, mouth close to Andrews' own, as their lips kissed and left Andrews' face as messy as Tommy's had become.
"It's okay," Andrews soothed, hands tucked down beneath Tommy's body. One hand pawing at the boy's ass, the other rubbing his cock against it.
A finger slipped inside him, Tommy's gasp swallowed by Andrews' eager mouth as the intensity of their kiss redoubled, and then he could feel how the older swimmer was jerking off beneath him, blunt head nudging his mauled entrance. Andrews' pre-cum-slicked tip mushing against his ass but never quite driving home, and yet the rough insistence of two fingers jammed deep.
And just as Tommy was wondering what it might be like to say "okay, do it, put it in me," it was Andrews' turn to go bow-taut, jaw clenching and eyes squeezed shut, and Tommy could feel the hot, wet spatters against his butt as his teammate reached his own messy climax.
Fingers slipping free. Muscles unclenching. Chest-heaving breaths slowing back to normal.
Tommy rolled to the side, slumping wearily to lie against Andrews' body. He could feel the heat of the older youth's excitement still radiating out from his arm, his leg, as they pressed hotly to his own.
He supposed he should feel something: shocked, maybe, at what he'd just done, or perhaps even disgusted. Angry at Andrews for... what, coercing him, or seducing him, or some weird combination of the two?
And yet... he didn't. None of those things, in fact; not angry or upset, or even riddled with the sort of self-doubt that had skewered him just a handful of days ago, when Andrews had first touched him with such explosive results.
"Are you quietly freaking out?" Andrews asked suddenly from alongside him. Tommy chuckled.
"Nah... are you?"
Andrews snorted. "I thought you might get weird on me again."
Tommy frowned. "Did I get weird before?"
He turned to look at his bedmate; Andrews was staring across the small space between them.
"No, I suppose you didn't. Well, no weirder than you are normally."
He giggled. "Carry on the sweet talk like that, and you'll end up in my pants."
Andrews snorted again, then ran a fingernail down Tommy's arm, lazily. "We're going to need to get you some more palatable pants if that's going to happen," he pointed out.
Tommy was about to make a smart comment back - he wasn't sure what, only that it was going to be equally barbed as Andrews' inexplicable hatred of his plain boxer-briefs - when there was a loud knock on the door.
"Oh fuck!" he squeaked. Andrews placed a reassuring hand on his chest, then pushed himself up on his elbows.
"It's occupied," he called out, looking askance at Tommy and winking.
"So unoccupy it!" a voice called back, laughing.
Andrews shook his head, but still sat up on the edge of the bed, pushing his hands back through his hair. "Guess there's no more room at the inn," he observed, wryly.
Sitting up too, Tommy was suddenly acutely aware of the not-insignificant amount of stickiness across his ass. Andrews' cum may have been fired predominantly on his hole, but it certainly hadn't stayed there, gravity doing its best to send slimy trickles down between his cheeks.
"Here," Andrews called, tossing him a towel. Tommy decided not to investigate exactly where it had come from, or how clean it might be, in preference of trying to clean as much of the spreading juice off his midsection as possible in such short order. By the time he was finished, Andrews already had his jeans on and was pulling on his shirt.
"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?" Tommy asked, as he tried to pull his own shirt on over sweat-sticky skin. Andrews gave him a sly look.
"What can I say, I'm a friendly guy."
Tommy decided not to push it, especially as the older swimmer was already reaching for the door handle and he was only half into his jeans. He blushed as it swung open to reveal two very curious looking guys he didn't know, peering into the darkened room with some interest.
Making eye-contact seemed too much to stomach as he finished buttoning his fly and followed Andrews out into the hallway. To be fair, neither of the guys seemed especially attentive to the room's previous occupants once it was clear they'd soon have it to themselves, instead buried in a lip-lock that would probably rival Andrews' and Tommy's own clinch for eagerness.
Door slammed behind them, Tommy found himself stood opposite Andrews across the small space by the staircase.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
Tommy frowned. Officially, he had classes. In the afternoon, at least, he explained to his teammate.
Andrews nodded. "You're mine in the morning." He grinned at Tommy's shocked expression. "We're going shopping."
Tommy walked back to his dorm that night with a new number in his phone and a whole lot of thoughts whipping around his head. Andrews had bid him what he thought was a relatively cool farewell - no heated kiss or extended hug, just a quick ruffling of his hair and another wink, before he left to talk to some other friends - and he'd slipped from the party with nobody else batting an eye.
He'd promised to meet out front of the nearest mall at 10am the following morning, however, with Andrews seemingly unable to countenance even the vague idea that Tommy might not be interested in going shopping with him.
Now, as he moved between the pooling streetlights, he tried to take stock in what had happened. The day had gone from bizarre in the showers, to terrifying with coach, and then entirely unexpected with Andrews, who had progressed from a vaguely mysterious pseudo-celebrity on the team to... well, to some sort of sexual partner, it turned out.
Or maybe he was a freshman conquest, and another notch on Andrews' bedpost.
Whatever, the experience had hardly been unpleasant, once he'd got past his lingering reluctances. Far from just losing his hair, it seemed his first week's experience on the swim team had taken several of his reservations away, too. They might not be encounters he was planning to tell Darren about any time soon, but neither was Tommy so naive as to tell himself they were the sort of accidents he could write off completely.
Was he gay, or bisexual, or just ridiculously curious, or maybe even simply easily led? The answers to that were far from clear, and a firm label he could cling to was even further from Tommy's grasp. Andrews had been right when he'd guessed his teammate's experience with girls had been moderate at best so far, though that wasn't to say that he hadn't lusted over them, jerked off at the thought of them, and generally assumed that he'd end up with one or more of them over the course of his college career.
When he'd left home, his father had pulled him to one side and given him some final words of cringeworthy advice. "Don't assume you know everything," his dad had said, "but don't doubt you know what's best for you." Tommy had frowned at that, and his father had gone into an even more embarrassing list of possible experimentations - beer, weed, the sort of all-night parties his parents still referred to as "discotheques" - that, while he hoped his son wouldn't get obsessed by, he nonetheless thought shouldn't be off-limits to an 18 year old with a good head on his shoulders and his whole life ahead of him.
There'd been no mention of allowing the star of the swim team to shave you bare, finger-fuck you, and then cream all over your hole, but Tommy was willing to retrospectively include some same-sex experimentation in with what his dad had described.
Safely back in his room, phone plugged in and clothes in an unruly heap by the bed, Tommy thought back over the evening's events. The fact he'd been so close to asking Andrews to fuck him kept repeating in his mind: he'd gone from apprehension and fear, feeling the youth's cock pressed between his cheeks, to nearly begging for it inside him after just a few minutes of action.
Tommy wasn't dumb, and he knew the mechanics of how anal worked, but aside from a couple of fingers over the past seven days, his ass had generally been ignored. Now, trailing a few curious fingers around it, it didn't seem possible that what Andrews had going on between his legs would ever fit in there.
When his alarm went off, throwing him out of dreams that his entire body had sprouted hair like a crazy bear and that he'd been thrown off the swimteam for clogging up the huge plughole that had somehow appeared at the bottom of the pool, his hand automatically found his cock. Tommy was generally of the impression that, when you have a morning erection and the time to deal with it, it was borderline-rude to leave it unattended to.
Only the thought of what might happen with Andrews that morning stopped him.
Instead, he forced himself into the shower and then spent several agonizing minutes trying to figure out what to wear. Andrews clearly had style, and it seemed to come naturally to him; in contrast, Tommy generally looked neat and tidy, but he knew he wasn't going to be mistaken for a model in a magazine.
In the end, he settled on another pair of boxer-briefs, some faded blue jeans that clung to his legs though weren't quite skinnies, and a dark blue t-shirt. Checking the time, he realized as he was pulling on his Converse that he would probably have to speed-walk if he was going to catch the bus in time.
Andrews was waiting outside the mall, two Starbucks cups in his hand and a grin on his face. He held out one of the takeout cups in wordless greeting as Tommy walked up, turning as the younger boy took a sip of the latte and throwing a simple "let's get started" over his shoulder as he walked through the automatic doors.
He clearly had an idea where he intended to go first, too, heading determinedly toward a big department store.
"You know your problem, Tommy?" Andrews asked, hardly waiting for the boy to reply. "You're cute, but you don't take advantage of that."
Tommy looked down at his outfit. Sure, it was pretty basic, but he hardly thought it was that bad. Andrews, though, was apparently unconvinced.
"You've got good arms, a nice chest, and I know full well your thighs are fantastic." He winked, knowingly. "After all, they were wrapped around me last night."
Resisting the horrified urge to look around and see if they were being overheard, Tommy settled instead on merely half-choking on a mouthful of coffee. Andrews held up a shirt on a hanger against his body while he spluttered and coughed.
"See, far more flattering. I bet they have some jeans that'll suit you, too."
Twenty minutes later, and feeling a little shell-shocked, Tommy was being propelled in the direction of the dressing rooms with an armful of what seemed like more clothes than he already owned. Andrews hadn't held back, and the hunt for jeans had morphed into a search for the perfect shorts, and then the perfect shirt to go with those shorts, and then six or seven more shirts to match, and cute vests, and more pants, and even a jacket that, frankly, Tommy couldn't envision himself ever wearing in public.
Arguing was, he'd discovered early on however, an entirely fruitless affair; all Andrews really needed was someone to dress up, and that person was also expected to carry the growing pile of candidate outfits.
By the time the curtain swished across the cubicle, Tommy was glad of a moment's rest. It didn't last long, though.
"Which are you trying on first?" Andrews asked from outside. "Try those jeans, I think you'll like them."
Tommy dumped most of the clothes onto the chair, and attempted to extricate the jeans from the tangle of fabric. They were skinnier than what he'd usually pick out, designed to cling to the legs rather than just skirt them closely, and Andrews had insisted that anything less form-fitting was frankly a waste of the time Tommy had spent getting fit.
The more pressing challenge, however, was actually squeezing into them, he found, and Andrews' increasingly impatient commentary from outside wasn't exactly helping.
They'd just reached mid-thigh when the curtain clattered open, a bored looking Andrews standing framed in the doorway.
"Jeez, dude!" Tommy exclaimed, peering over Andrews' shoulder to see if anyone could see him. Luckily it was a weekday morning, and the store was pretty much deserted. Andrews rolled his eyes and stepped into the cubicle, dragging the curtain back across its rail again behind him.
"You take too long," he complained, casting an appraising eye down Tommy's body. The youth had taken his shirt off in preparation for one of the several dozen polos that had been picked out for him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how exposed he was.
"They're too tight," Tommy argued, trying to keep a petulant tone from out of his voice. Andrews shook his head.
"You're just not used to them," he countered, "here, let me help."
His hands on Tommy's hips to turn him to face the mirror, he reached down and took a firm grip on the waistband of the jeans and yanked them smoothly up the boy's body. Tommy held his breath as Andrews' deft fingers buttoned the fly, before skating lightly up his torso.
"There," Andrews said, finally. Tommy had to admit, the jeans didn't look half-bad. The curves of his swimming-toned thighs were clearly visible, and the tight denim only emphasized the shape of his body overall. As he turned to look at himself in profile, though, he saw Andrews' nose wrinkle.
"Those fucking boxers," the swimmer sneered, pointing to the clearly visible hemline cutting across Tommy's upper thighs. "They have to go."
He slipped out of the cubicle, calling a "try the teal shirt" instruction over his shoulder as he went. Tommy sighed and moved to comply.
Andrews might be frustrating, Tommy decided after the fifth shirt, but he couldn't knock the guy's taste. Four out of five of the shirts had been a hit and,while the jeans had been uncomfortable at first, once the unusual feelings in his legs had abated he quickly realized how much better they looked than his usual style.
He was pulling another shirt over his head when the curtain whipped open again, Andrews letting himself in seemingly without any consideration that Tommy might want some privacy.
"Okay, you look half-decent. Now to tackle the biggest problem."
Tommy looked down at the hangers of underwear dangling from Andrews' outstretched hand, and gulped.
"I don't think I'm meant to try those on..." he tried, haltingly, but the older youth shook his head.
"I know the guy in menswear, we're good."
Reaching out dubiously, he took the first hanger. Pale grey briefs with a thick, silver waistband. Almost cut like a swimsuit, but a little narrower on the sides. He could definitely see Andrews wearing something like this, but it certainly wasn't his own typical style.
"Oh come on," Andrews said, exasperated. He hung the remaining hangers on a hook on the wall, and turned to frown at Tommy with his arms crossed. "I thought you said you had class this afternoon, or were you planning on being late?"
Tommy sighed. He had a feeling that there was no excuse - good, bad, or otherwise - which his headstrong friend would accept. And Andrews was right, if he was going to make it to his lessons that day, he'd have to get moving eventually.
Adding the hanger to the rest, he unbuttoned the jeans and pushed them - with a little effort - down his legs, eventually kicking them off. His hands hesitated at his boxer-briefs, as he glanced up at Andrews. His teammate showed no intention of leaving the cubicle.
"Nothing I haven't seen before..."
Tommy sighed, and pushed down his underwear,
"Take your shirt off," Andrews instructed, voice quiet but demanding nonetheless. Tommy's hands fumbled at the hem for a second, then yanked it free.
It felt strange to be completely naked: sure, there was a curtain hiding him from the rest of the store, but being able to hear strangers as they talked just on the other side sent shivers down Tommy's spine.
Andrews unclipped the briefs and held them out. Tommy stepped into them carefully, pulling them up his thighs and to snugly sit on his hips. He turned to look at the full-length mirror.
"Now isn't that better," Andrews purred behind him. He had to admit, they were an excellent fit, framing the muscles in his thighs perfectly and pulling everything up front into a not-inconsiderable bulge. The elastic waistband hugged his flesh without cutting into it, the color eye-catching against his creamy, tan skin.
Andrews stepped up close to Tommy's back, and let one hand slide gently down the boy's arm. "You look twice as big," he pointed out, the palm of his hand skirting Tommy's belly, fingers coming to rest at his waist.
"Maybe I should try on the jeans?" Andrews shook his head at that.
"No need, I can tell just what they'll look like on top." He glanced at the other waiting garments on their hook. "Let's get you into something else."
Tommy nudged down the briefs, feeling them tumble in a soft heap around his ankles, then looked up to see Andrews unclipping a second pair. White this time, with hardly any waistband at all, just the edges picked out in red and blue. They reminded him even more of a swimsuit.
The shimmery, stretchy fabric even felt a little like what he was used to from his Speedo, as it eased up around his legs and clung to his groin. He was adjusting his junk in the front when he felt Andrews fingers realigning the rear hem across the globes of his ass.
"They're a bit..." Tommy started, biting his lip as he tried to find the right word. Brief? Revealing? Risque? Andrews was holding him by the hips, tilting him minutely right and left and watching as the light played across the bulging pouch.
"They look fucking incredible," Andrews replied. There was a huskiness to his voice which Tommy decided to take as a compliment. Certainly, the way the smooth expanse of his stomach narrowly funneled down into the tight waistband of the underwear looked good.
If anything it looked too good, and Tommy could feel his body reacting. Andrews' palm as it casually traced across his bulge wasn't helping either; while they both watched, Tommy's cock began to push against the fabric.
"I don't..." Tommy started, then jolted as Andrews' fingers guided his growing erection to the side, straining against his hip. "Oh... oh fuck."
Somehow it was like watching someone else's body; as though he was seeing what was happening from behind another guy's eyes. Andrews' hand snaked across his chest and squeezed a nipple between his fingertips, grinning as Tommy's mouth lolled open in response.
"Now you can't go leaking in those briefs," Andrews whispered, lips close to Tommy's ear. "We haven't bought them yet."
Tommy groaned, knowing he was indeed probably only moments away from gushing precum into the tight confines of the clinging material. "Please, Andrews..."
The older swimmer chuckled. "Christ, you're just desperate to go again, aren't you," he laughed, fingers cinching tight around the base of Tommy's throbbing shaft. "Oh, what the fuck."
Slipping round Tommy's body, Andrews sank to his knees, dipping his fingers behind the elastic of the briefs and pulling them around the boy's cock. Looking down the flat expanse of his stomach, Tommy watched as his dick wavered just inches from Andrews' mouth.
Closed lips brushed against the head, and Tommy thought his knees might buckle. Then it was a tongue, Andrews lapping expertly at the glistening tip, before allowing the first inch or so of Tommy's hairless prick into the hot, wet confines of his mouth.
Tommy reached out, palms flat against the cool glass of the mirror, torn between gazing down and watching as Andrews expertly worked over his junk and letting his eyes roll back in his head at the incredible sensations radiating out from his groin. Andrews was bobbing on him eagerly now, each time taking a little more of Tommy inside, his stretched lips coming increasingly close to the smooth base of his shaft where his fingers were loosely hooked.
He gasped again when Andrews' lips met his groin, the clutch of his throat around Tommy's throbbing tip an impossible source of pleasure. Glancing down, he made eye-contact with the grinning youth, who seemed in no doubt about the nature of the feelings he was sending coursing through Tommy's body.
When Andrews started sucking in earnest, deep-throating every inch with each stroke, Tommy had to bite his knuckle to avoid yelping. The thought of someone tearing open the curtain and finding the two of them should've dampened down his excitement, some rational part of his brain was saying, but the rest of him was thrumming with a ball-tingling, teeth-clenching arousal that the danger only amplified.
He knew what was coming when Andrews nudged his legs apart, when he felt a hand slide smoothly up his inner thigh. Fingertips teasing in-between his buttocks, strumming across his hole. Tommy held his breath as a single digit impaled him, rising on his tiptoes as his body was pleasured front and back.
"Please..." he whimpered. Andrews pulled off his cock with an audible slurp, a fist running languidly down its length as he frowned up at him.
"Keep making noise and I'm going to gag you with those dumb boxers of yours," he chided, then diffused a little of the harsh tone with a wink as he again buried his face in Tommy's crotch.
Tommy barely noticed when his ass took a second finger, couldn't have put into words when the sensations ramped up from mind-blowing to simply meltdown level. One hand tapping on Andrews head to warn him of his impending climax, then his brain spinning when he realized the older guy had no intention of pulling back.
He buried his face in his hands, muffled his squeaks and squeals as Andrews' unrelenting tongue coaxed the cum from him. He felt Andrews' throat gulp around him, fingers jammed deep into his hole and leaving him strangely both full and empty at the same time.
Andrews sat back, a look of knowing triumph on his face. Lips red and slick. He looked up at Tommy briefly, as if checking to make sure the dazed expression he expected was indeed the one the young swimmer was wearing.
When he stood, he ran his hand up Tommy's leg as he did it, unexpectedly pulling up his knee so that he could slide his palm underneath the boy's flank as he pressed in close. Tommy could feel fingertips fluttering gently around his hole again, as well as the firmness bulging in Andrews' jeans.
"Do you want me to..." he started, feeling himself blush as his breathing still struggled to come back to normal. Andrews grinned wickedly.
"Not here," he murmured, voice low as he brought his lips close to Tommy's ear. "Later. And I think we both know what I want..."
The pressure against his hole left Tommy in no doubt what Andrews was talking about.
He was about to say something, about to comment - whether to demur or agree he wasn't quite sure - when the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat from just the other side of the curtain interrupted.
"Shit!" Tommy hissed, but Andrews only rolled his eyes.
"I'm not going to ask," a man said from outside, "but I'm going to need that cubicle soon."
Andrews chuckled; Tommy could feel it through their closely-pressed chests.
"Give us a minute, Kyle," he replied. Tommy was sure he heard something like a cross between a sigh and a giggle in response.
Pulling apart, Andrews glanced down at Tommy's nakedness. "Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" he asked, casually. Tommy gaped, but his reply was cut off before it could really start. "We need to get going," Andrews pointed out.
Tommy scowled as he reached down for his boxer-briefs, but Andrews got there first.
"Nope," was all he said, wiping his hands on the crumpled fabric and shaking his head.
So Tommy pulled up his jeans with nothing underneath, being careful not to catch anything delicate as he fastened them.
Andrews threw open the curtain when Tommy was just finishing tugging his shirt into place, but he couldn't miss the knowing grin of the guy in his twenties waiting outside.
"Andrews, always a pleasant surprise," the stranger said, arching an eyebrow at the swimmer. He looked a few years older, perhaps, and his entertained expression suggested it wasn't the first time he'd encountered Tommy's unexpected playmate.
"Kyle, meet Tommy. Tommy, this is my friend Kyle." Tommy nodded, mutely. Kyle winked.
Andrews put his hands on Tommy's shoulder, and guided him out of the changing rooms, clothes clutched in a tight bundle to his chest. At the doorway, Kyle held out his arms to take the tangle.
"Everything?"
It may have been Tommy trying the outfits on, but Kyle clearly knew it was Andrews calling the shots. "Yeah, everything," Andrews replied, ruffling Tommy's hair. "Tommy's going commando right now, so he really needs some new underwear."
There was that damn blush again. Tommy knew he'd have to get himself under control one of these days, but it was so hard to do when faced with someone like Andrews - someone who seemed to positively rejoice in pushing your buttons once he figured them out. The fact that Kyle was quite obviously staring at his crotch wasn't helping, either.
"Well, I hope you got everything you wanted, then," the assistant said, smirking a little. Andrews laughed.
"Oh, he got what he wanted, alright."
At the register, Tommy tried not to imagine what his parents might say when they saw a few hundred dollars suddenly appear on the credit card he was really only meant to use in emergencies. Protesting that to Andrews seemed like such an obvious non-starter - he would only say that wearing bad underwear actually was an emergency, Tommy could guess - that, well, he didn't even start to protest. Just signed on the dotted line and tried not to notice Kyle mentally dressing him up in each pair of briefs he folded and put into the bag.
It wasn't that the attention was particularly uncomfortable, or even unwelcome. Tommy had gone from blissful ignorance that there might be guys out there interested in him, to... well, to getting his dick sucked in a department store by the hunky star of the swim team. If that wasn't the epitome of college expanding your horizons, he wasn't sure what would be.
No, what made him itch with self-consciousness was the knowledge of Kyle's knowledge. That is to say, that he obviously knew that Tommy and Andrews had been playing around together, and that since it was so clearly unsurprising to him he could only assume Andrews had done it before.
So how many boys had there been - boys just like Tommy, perhaps - before him, and what exactly did that make the whole situation? Sure, Andrews had something of a reputation for his appetites, but while when they were pressed together that was the least of Tommy's concerns, when the ardor had cooled it suddenly started to feel a whole lot more significant.
The hand at the small of his back as they walked out of the store together almost started to feel territorial, in fact, even as it sent shivers of anticipation up through his spine. Tommy knew, if he ended up alone with Andrews, he could pretty much count on something sexual happening. Not such a bad thing, maybe, but hardly making the situation any clearer.
He pulled up short, Andrews shoulder colliding with his own as a result. He turned to look at the older man. Andrews stared at him, quizzically.
Tommy's throat felt tight, almost as if there was something lodged in it. He swallowed, then for a second time when the constriction wouldn't quite go away.
"Listen, Andrews, we need to talk."
===================
Now don't get me wrong, I love Andrews and his take-no-prisoners attitude, but it sure is nice to see Tommy finally taking some initiative!
As ever, I'd love to hear your comments: you can find me at alexp336@gmail.com or at www.AlexPendragon.com. That's also where details on how to get a copy of "Jock Auction" are lurking.
I'm super-excited to hear what people think of it, and am quietly hopeful that enough people will have sufficiently positive comments that Loose Id considers keeping me around for more stories...
Have fun, support Nifty, and happy new year! -Alex