I’ve got one more block of Rocky’s backstory to go, and then it’s “Let’s All Go To The Lobby” for a bit, while “my cool brother Adam Vance” kickstarts his science fiction series (I don’t mind calling it SciFi, and you know, I probably just will from now on). I think this is going to be pretty good; I’ve got strong worldbuilding done, a solid outline of story 1 of 5, and a killer battle to open #1 with a hook that’ll get ’em when they read the excerpt.
Yes, many more buckets of ducats to be found in that genre than in gayrom… And Loometh Menacingly in the New Year, Doth the Tower of the Dark Lord Maximus Outofpocket, and we must forsooth gin up his $6500 in tribute in a fucking hurry 🙂
Rocky came back to school brimming with ideas. The most exciting discover was that you didn’t need to be with a big record label anymore to reach, well, everyone with an iPod, for sure. His new idol James Murphy was selling his DFA dance singles on vinyl, but the rest of us could get them through the iTunes Store. Barriers to entry were falling everywhere. All you needed now, Rocky thought, was to be great at what you did.
He felt a faint stab of regret when he saw his new roommate Charlie. Certainly he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with loathsome Harry anymore. This shy dorky kid, another art major, wouldn’t be putting any ties on their door, Rocky thought…though you never knew, anymore, who would turn out to be the biggest cocksman you’d ever known.
But Harry’s absence meant he’d never see Nico again. Not in person, anyway. But wasn’t that for the best? Wasn’t he making himself sick, obsessing over someone he could never have, who could never, would never, love him in return?
So why didn’t he feel good about that? Why did the ache inside get even worse now? He resolved to move on, to forget, to think about New York and the men he’d meet there soon, so soon now, when his glorious future arrived.
Then all that changed, his first day of the spring semester.
He’d signed up for a dance class, on a lark. After all, he was going to be a rock star! And a performer in the age of music video couldn’t just stand there with a guitar and a microphone. Look at that band OK Go, and that “treadmill dance” they did last summer! Would they have become as famous without that?
He’d worn a t-shirt and sweats, thinking he probably wouldn’t do much dancing the first day of class, but better safe than sorry. When he entered the drafty dance studio, he could tell who the real dance students were – the ones warming up using the bar on the mirrored wall – versus the ones in jeans who’d suddenly realized their mistake in not looking at the syllabus before day one, which had given them the suggested wardrobe.
There was one guy warming up who didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the dancers. He had black tights on, and a UGA t-shirt, but he was so much bigger, and taller, than the rest of them. Like, way too huge to be a dancer, and yet, he was as flexible as they were, his leg stretched out and heel anchored on the bar as he bent to touch his toes.
Then he stood up and turned around. And saw Rocky. And burst into that grin that could shame the sun behind a cloud.
“Hey, little dude,” Nico Paulus said.
Rocky couldn’t look away. Every contour in Nico’s massive legs was hugged by his tights, and he had clearly, brazenly, refused to wear a cup or codpiece. His cock was enormous, almost absurdly so – and he knew it. Even the microsecond Rocky spent staring at it was obvious to Nico, who had no doubt become accustomed to seeing eyebrows lift at the sight of it.
“Hey,” Rocky said, immediately detouring as far from Nico as he could get.
No, they didn’t dance that first day, but they did get a lesson in stretching, and it took all Rocky’s self control not to watch Nico’s body arch and flex, not to watch his ass cheeks, like two firm melons, not to watch his broad, muscular back bend gracefully…
Rocky fled as fast as he could afterward. He would drop the class, right now, today.
“Hey, man,” he heard the voice behind him, and it was like a rope thrown around him, stuttering his step. But he kept moving, away from that deep, rich, honey-coated voice.
“Rocky, right?” Nico said, catching up with him effortlessly. “How’s it hanging, man?” At least he had sweatpants on now, Rocky thought, and I don’t have to look at…that.
He offered Rocky his hand to shake, and Rocky could hardly refuse the civility. But taking Nico’s hand, letting his guitar-callused fingers disappear inside Nico’s huge quarterback paw, thick with muscle from a lifetime of gripping a football, was like being eaten alive.
Nico’s crooked grin told Rocky what he already knew – that Rocky’s breath, his eyes, his face, had given away what Nico’s touch did to him. He’d never been in the embrace of a hand like that, young and strong and massive, and every skin cell on his body cried out at once, no, no, touch me, here, here!
It’s funny to him, Rocky thought with sudden rage. It’s fucking hilarious how much power he has over me.
Rocky retracted his hand as if stung. “Nice to see you see you later,” he mumbled quickly, making his escape.
Nico was right there behind him. “Hey. Hey!”
Why can’t I keep going? Why can’t I just…run! Why am I turning around, why can’t I stand the idea of not seeing him, his beautiful fucking face, one more time…
“You know what I think?” Nico said, his hot brown eyes boring into Rocky’s. “I think we both want the same thing,” he murmured.
Rocky snorted. A little of New York City had rubbed off on him already. He looked up at Nico, towering above him. “Oh, so you want to suck my cock, too?”
Nico was shocked, and delighted to be shocked. This wasn’t the script, this wasn’t the way it always went. Nobody defied Nico Paulus when he made his desires known.
“No, I don’t want to suck your cock. But I want you to suck mine.”
This was suddenly a different Nico, Rocky realized. He wasn’t laying on the charm, wasn’t grinning with that sly winking teasing demeanor. He was being…practical. Matter of fact about it.
“And you just said, you want it,” Nico concluded. “So…let’s do it.”
“Okay,” Rocky said abruptly, surprising himself. “Yeah, let’s.”
Rocky didn’t own a tie. And hoped, had sworn, he would never have to. Fortunately, his roomie had a skinny retro 80s New Wave tie, with a keyboard printed on it. And that was what he hung on the door of their room.
His heart was racing as he shut the door behind him. Nico had already kicked off his shoes and sprawled on his bed.
“I figured this was your bed,” Nico rumbled, putting his hands behind his head, regarding Rocky like a lizard would a fly.
It hadn’t been hard to figure out which side was Rocky’s – the one with the posters of Interpol and Kraftwerk and The Killers – since the other side was decorated with semi-ironic-but-not-quite posters of Britney Spears.
Rocky nodded, watching Nico idly grab the massive bulge in his sweats and shift it into a more comfortable position. He didn’t know what to do, if he should undress or what.
Nico cocked his head. “Come on over here and suck this dick.”
Rocky moved like a man in a dream. Nico spread his legs, and Rocky got on the bed between them, on his knees, reaching tentatively for the object of his worship. He put his hand on it, and snatched it back, startled. It was so hard!
Nico’s eyebrows shot up. “O fuck, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Rocky looked up at him, to see if he was being mocked. “Yeah.”
Nico’s eyelids fluttered. “Shit. That’s so hot…” He arched his hips and pulled his sweats and tights down, revealing his hydrant-sized erection and his massive furry thighs.
“Kiss it,” Nico urged him. “Just put your lips on it.”
Rocky bent over, and got a whiff of Nico’s musky crotch, warm and fecund from dance class. The scent was clean, manly, intoxicating.
He just touched his lips to the shaft, at the base where it met Nico’s balls. His shaved balls, Rocky marveled – like two eggs in a purse.
Nico sighed. “Yeah, now up a little higher.” Rocky eagerly complied. He was so relieved to be in Nico’s command, to surrender his confusion and uncertainty about what to do next, and just…obey.
Rocky kissed it again, and again, up a little higher each time. Then he paused just before he got to the head.
Nico opened one eye. “What you waiting for?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do.’
The eye dilated, the nostrils flared. “Oh fuck yeah. You gonna do whatever I say?”
“Yeah,” Rocky nearly groaned.
“Put your mouth on the head. Just your lips.”
Rocky enveloped Nico’s huge mushroom head in his mouth. It was the softest thing he’d ever felt. Then he tasted Nico’s salty precum, already urged up by Rocky’s kisses (and his vow of obedience), and that was when he started to melt. His seed, his juices, the star quarterback’s vital essence.
Nico helpfully grabbed the base of his dick and tilted it down, aiming it straight at Rocky’s mouth. “Now put some more of that in your mouth.”
Rocky eagerly complied, feeling Nico’s stiff flesh slide over his tongue, touch the back of his throat. His dick was so big that Rocky had to stretch his mouth open wide, wider, to take it, its mass expanding ever closer to the base.
“Oooh,” Nico flinched. “Watch the teeth. Keep your lips over the teeth, so they don’t cut me.”
Rocky nodded enthusiastically. Nico was so huge!
“Okay,” Nico nodded, pulling out and stroking it, inches from Rocky’s face, like a monolith blocking his whole field of vision. “Now take a deep breath, let it out.”
Rocky had indeed forgotten to breathe. He sighed, got his breath, relaxed.
“Now I’m gonna get it down your throat. So you gotta open wide. And there’s gonna be pressure. Your gag reflex is gonna kick in, so you just gotta roll with it, right?”
Rocky nodded. He was so relieved, so grateful, to be with Nico, to be with someone so experienced, so patient.
“I’m not gonna choke you to death with, okay?” Nico’s eyes darkened. “Maybe later, when I’ve got you trained.”
Rocky’s blood tingled. Later! Trained! The promise of another time, and another…
Nico put his dick back in Rocky’s mouth, pushing slowly. One hand at the base of his cock, he put the other on the back of Rocky’s head. It was like being inside a catcher’s mitt, his hand was so big.
“Take a deep breath and hold it.”
Rocky’s lips stretched to get a breath in around the sides of Nico’s erection. He took the breath, and just as he stopped, Nico pushed.
The head of his dick popped past the back of his mouth, and instinctively he choked, pushing it back out.
Nico grinned. “Yeah, that’s tight. Gonna take some time to relax you, huh. You’re tense as a motherfucker.”
Rocky laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. You’ll learn.”
Rocky looked at Nico, his tutor, his master. He wanted to please him so badly. He grabbed Nico’s cock and pushed his head down on it, ramming the head into the back of his mouth, trying to force it in, gagging again.
Nico laughed. “Slow down, man.” His dark eyes were so smoky, so glassy with lust, with pleasure. His smile was so lazy, so certain…
“Here,” Nico said, shifting himself to the side of the bed. “Turn around.”
Rocky rotated till he was next to Nico, his knees by Nico’s torso. This way, Nico’s cock was pointed down at Rocky, its curvature far more friendly to that of Rocky’s throat.
Rocky bent over and went to try again, but Nico’s iron hands grabbed his head. “I’m gonna control you,” Nico whispered. “I’m gonna use your head now. Right? Don’t even try to do anything.”
Rocky whimpered, relieved, ecstatic. Nico bobbed Rocky’s head up and down on the tip, Nico just teasing himself, extending his pleasure, more of his juices leaking on to Rocky’s tongue.
“Yeah, that’s it, relax, just take the ride,” Nico urged him.
Rocky did relax, placing his trust, his faith, in Nico. He dared to put his hands on Nico’s legs, his huge iron muscles. The skin was so soft, the flesh so firm, like pillars of the temple between which lay the object of veneration.
“You like those legs?”
“Yeah. Your thighs are the size of my waist.”
“Heh. Could be. You’re a slim little guy. I could just pick you up and post you on my dick and carry you around.”
Nico could sense it, Rocky’s whole body loosening up. So that, when he pushed past the larynx, down into Rocky’s throat, it was like a hot knife through butter.
Rocky didn’t choke, or not much. Just a little, and he could tell Nico liked it, the little squeezes that his contractions gave Nico’s dick, the way Nico’s hands clenched on the back of Rocky’s head, urging him but not forcing him to hold it down a little longer.
Rocky backed off, gasping, and Nico’s hands flew free to let him. “That’s good,” Nico whispered. “Good cocksucker. You like that.” It was a confirmation, not a question.
Rocky nodded. “Yeah!” His tongue darted into the slit in the head, eager for more juices.
Nico chuckled. “You like the taste, huh?”
“Yeah, fuck yeah.”
“Just wait till you eat my load,” Nico said, pushing Rocky’s head back down again.
Rocky opened wide now, embracing it, his hands grasping Nico’s legs like life preservers. Each time Nico stayed down longer, was able to get a few more thrusts in before Rocky needed air. Rocky was on fire now, his own dick aching, and like a swimmer he’d come up only for a quick gasp and then dived down again.
“Shhhhit,” Nico whispered, pulling Rocky off. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Give it to me,” Rocky demanded, straining against Nico’s hands to get back on the object of all his desire.
Nico laughed. “Okay, then,” he said. “Hold on tight.”
Nico grabbed a fistful of Rocky’s curly hair, holding his head up just out of reach of Nico’s cock. It hurt, barely, but something about the pain, the subjugation, the…complete loss of control, was even more thrilling than the sex. The denial of all he wanted, so close and yet so far, made him delirious.
Nico stroked himself at a leisurely pace. “You’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?”
Rocky’s whole body was on fire. “Please. Please,” he whispered, his brain under his lust’s control, reduced to single syllables.
Nico’s breath came in short pants now, and he started to stroke faster. “You better fucking drink every drop,” he hissed.
“Yes, yes, I want it!”
“Open your mouth. Keep it open. Wider.”
Nico clenched his teeth, grunted, his eyes scrunching shut, then popping open just as the first gout of cum shot a bullseye into Rocky’s mouth. Then the hand on the back of Rocky’s head pushed him down onto it, all the way, Nico shooting in powerful waves straight into Rocky’s guts.
“FUCK!” Nico shouted, thrusting his hips up, enhancing the orgasm, and Rocky felt Nico’s life pulsing into him, the thick salty fluid of the first shot coating his throat, lubricating it. He felt dizzy from lack of oxygen, his vision turning red. Would Nico forget that he needed to breathe, was more than just…a rag doll to be used for his pleasure…
Nico let go and Rocky gasped, panting. “Lick it clean,” Nico commanded, and Rocky put his mouth back on the head, which twitched furiously, triply sensitive after such a powerful orgasm.
When Nico was satisfied that he was clean, he pulled Rocky’s head off. In a flash, he was up and off the end of the bed, leaving Rocky to collapse onto his pillow, aching, exhausted, exhilarated.
Nico pulled up his sweats, sat on the edge of the bed, his mass pushing Rocky out of his way. Rocky eagerly, willingly, moved over, but not so much that he couldn’t still feel the mass of Nico’s back against his legs. Nico slipped into his shoes and got up, turning to give Rocky a grin.
“That was hot. Good job, rookie.” He winked and headed for the door.
Rocky laughed, but wanted to yell, STOP! DON’T GO! But that would be…so uncool. So…desperate. Which he was of course, but he knew the important thing was never to show it.
“So,” he called after Nico as he opened the door. “Again sometime?”
“Oh yeah,” Nico said, grinning like a crocodile. “Don’t make any plans after dance class next week.” And then he was gone.
The afterimage of Nico stayed burned on Rocky’s retinas, the image imprinted on back of the closed door. Rocky pulled his own dick out and, heedless of the mess, unable to stop long enough to get a cloth or even check the door, he exploded like he never had before, nearly crying from the exquisite contractions.
Nico. He had found a new religion, a new god, at last.
“You did it,” Sam said, slapping him on the back and handing him a beer. “Congratulations.”
Jet whooped, banged out a Roman triumphal beat on the drums. “Hail the conquering hero!”
“What are you talking about,” Rocky said, blushing.
Jet got up and held a drumstick like a microphone, shimmying like a vixen. “‘Like a virgin, HEY! Touched for the very first time!’”
“You look like Buffalo Bill when you do that,” Rocky grinned, having finally seen “Silence of the Lambs.”
Sam grabbed Rocky in a bear hug. In that weird deep Buffalo Bill voice, he whispered into Rocky’s ear. “Would you fuck me? I would fuck me.”
Rocky laughed, twisted out of Sam’s grip. “Shut up!”
“Who was it,” Jet said, handing Rocky a beer from the minifridge in the living room (so they wouldn’t have to walk all the way to the kitchen).
“Not telling,” Rocky said.
Jet put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “I’m gonna say…that barista at Starbucks you like. The one with the sleeve tats and the crooked grin.”
“Oh, does he give you a crooked grin? I guess he’s all yours, then.”
Rocky felt a flush of excitement at the secret. Nobody, ever, would ever guess Nico Paulus. His bandmates tried record store clerks, DJs, even assistant professors, to no avail.
“Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s get to work.”
“So it’s omerta then,” Rick said. “You tella my secret, I breaka you legs.”
“Yep. Something like that. Come on, let’s make some music.”
Nothing unleashes the creative process like a period of delirious happiness that shatters a long streak of misery.
They worked like demons on “Your Faith in Your Friends.” Rocky’s dedication and energy inspired the rest of the band to abandon schoolwork, girlfriends, even the sacred and holy “bong night,” to get the song right, to get it done.
It was the dawn of a new era. You didn’t need a professional studio, you didn’t need a gigantic sound board anymore. All you needed to make a single was a Mac with GarageBand software, a decent microphone, and you were good to go.
Jet was an ace with the program, and Rocky picked it up quickly. When they were done massaging it, it had the gloss, the shine, the glitter of the new sound that they’d been exposed to in New York. Rocky had finished the lyrics after his first time with Nico, giving it the sense of uplift it needed at the end.
But it’s the ones who don’t go, it’s the ones who stay
Through the lows
And the highs
Who hug and kiss you when you lose your lover
And it’s good, it’s so good, so good to see you too
To know you’re there when the chips are down
Look around, don’t look around, don’t think about it yet
Today you’re young and happy and nothing can go wrong
Your faith in your friends is strong.
Rocky’s voice had “broken” in the last month. Broken wide open, as if Nico’s cock in his throat had uncorked something bottled up in there, something held back all this time. The others were astonished; Rocky had always had a good voice but now…
“Fuck,” Sam whispered as Jet finished saving the final version of the song. “We are going to be so rich.”
Rocky, nodded, and texted Korey. Got something for you to hear.
When Nico put a hand on Rocky’s ass, he nearly screamed. It was as if his whole essence was pulled to that spot, every nerve recruited to sense that one spot.
“You want that?” Nico asked.
“I…I don’t know. You’re so huge.”
“Yeah,” Nico smiled. “It’s gonna take some work. Take off your clothes.”
A month into their weekly sessions, and Rocky had never been naked with Nico, had only bent to his task between Nico’s legs as soon as his master flopped on his bed. Nico, as always, was still dressed, his sweats pulled down to his knees.
Rocky stripped quickly, knowing his frame was slim, but athletic, wiry but not skinny. A Rock Star Bod.
“Turn around,” Nico said. “Lemme see that ass.”
Rocky complied. He was smooth, pale, and unashamed.
Rocky bent over, presenting like an animal to his mate.
“Fuck that’s nice,” Nico said. “Cherry ass. Shit…”
Rocky reached back, less and less nervous and more and more shameless each time they were together. He stroked his ass with his hands, squeezed his firm melons.
“Jesus. Where’s the lube.”
Rocky grabbed the lube that had so far only served him for whacking off. He held it out to Nico.
Nico stroked his cock slowly, lazily. “No way, man. Put it in your ass.”
Rocky squeezed a palmful, then more, onto his hand, and put his fingers slowly, hesitantly to his asshole. He’d been there before, hoping for this day, slipping a greasy finger or two into his ass as he jerked off, wishing this day would come, never dreaming it would.
Nico reached down and stripped off his sweats, tossing them to the side. Then he crossed his hands at the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled that off, too, till he was only wearing his long white “jock socks” with the old school red bands at the tops.
Rocky froze, spellbound. Nico’s body was exquisite. His abs were ripped, the V at his hips was deep enough that the edges cast a shadow, his chest was barely hairy. His shoulders rippled as he stroked his dick. He waved a hand at his backpack.
“Rubbers in there. Front pocket. Wash your hands off first!” he laughed.
Rocky laughed too, quickly wiping off on a towel. His hands shook as he opened Nico’s bag, pulled out the strip of condoms for the Extra Large Man.
Nico extended his hand. “I’ll do it.” With a swift motion, he tore the wrapper and rolled the condom over his dick. “Now grease it up.”
Rocky went overboard with the lube, knowing how hard this would be. He stroked Nico’s dick, making sure it was slathered all the way down. Then, his eyes on Nico’s, he reached around and pushed the rest of the lube into his ass.
“Fuck. Yeah.” Nico said. He put his hands behind his head. “Now sit on my hips. Yeah, up there.” Rocky straddled Nico’s waist, its mass pushing his legs apart wide.
“Just move back a little. Till you feel the head.”
Rocky wriggled until he felt the pylon behind him.
“Back a little more, till it’s running along your ass crack. Perfect. Stop there.”
Rocky reached back to touch it and Nico’s hand flew from behind his head to catch Rocky’s hand. “No. Don’t touch it.” Then he cradled his head again, angling it to watch Rocky.
“Now, bend over, towards my chest. Good. Feel it? Feel that tip?”
“Good,” Nico whispered encouragingly. “Slide up a little bit, till it’s right against your asshole.”
Rocky felt it, cool and slippery, just against his hole. He tried to push back on it.
“Stop,” Nico commanded. “Just wait.”
Rocky moaned, his eyes shut tight. He wanted it so bad! Nico was torturing him. He heard Nico laugh, and saw him grinning. “That’s right. Fucking gonna tease you with it. Get you wet on the inside so you slide right down on it.”
Then Nico squeezed his sphincter hard, over and over, making his cock jump, the tip pulsing against Rocky’s asshole. “Yeah. Fuck. Okay. Now. Slowly. Back into it.”
Nico’s cock slipped, slid up Rocky’s ass crack towards the small of his back.
“Okay,” Nico laughed. “No,” he said sternly, “don’t put your hand back there. You’re gonna do this my way.”
Rocky nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Nico raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Yeah what?”
“Yes…sir?” Rocky said tentatively, tasting the word, the sound of it. And liking what he heard, what he tasted. Surrender.
Nico’s face went nearly slack with lust. “That’s right. You only do what I say, you hear?”
“Yes sir,” Rocky nearly whimpered. The blood rushed to his asshole now.
“I’m in command,” Nico said, all quarterback now, calling the play with no interference from anyone.
Nico’s hands clamped Rocky by the hips, and his own hips pushed up. Rocky didn’t resist, opened for him, and felt the tip push inside him.
The muscle resisted, strained. “Breathe,” Nico ordered, his eyes boring into Rocky’s soul as deeply as his cock was about to in his body.
Rocky couldn’t stand it. His own cock twitched, leaking, dripping onto Nico. Nico laughed. “Messy boy, you’re gonna lick that off me when you’re done, you hear?”
“Yes sir!” Rocky’s voice nearly cracked as he said it.
Then, slowly but insistently, Nico’s hands pushed Rocky down onto him. “Bend over more, open up.”
“O fuck, o God…”
“Yeah. That’s it. Fucking take it. Fucking horse cock up your cherry ass.”
Nico’s hand flew to his face, grabbed his chin hard. “Yes what!”
Nico’s face went dark, angry, his lip curled. He moved his hand from Rocky’s chin to cover his mouth, and with a thrust of his hips, was deep inside.
As Nico had expected, Rocky did scream, into Nico’s muffling paw. “That’s it,” Nico said, softly now, his hand softly stroking Rocky’s face, leaving streamers of pleasure in its wake. “That’s it.” His hand stroked Rocky’s neck, grasped it gently. “Just like the back of your throat. Only with no gag reflex.”
Rocky laughed, then flinched, the convulsion of his laugh squeezing his aching sphincter around Nico’s mass. Nico laughed, too. “That’s right. Enjoy it. You like it?”
“Yeah…it hurts though. Just let me…”
Nico put his hands on Rocky’s shoulders, holding him perfectly still. Then he put a finger to his lips, grinning as he did. “Shh. I’m in charge. I’m not letting you do anything, you hear?”
“Yes sir,” Rocky smiled back. The ache was diminishing, and his senses changed their focus to the sense of fullness, the heat of Nico’s big dick inside him.
Nico squeezed his own sphincter again, and again, making his dick twitch inside Rocky, not moving otherwise.
“How’s that feel.”
“It’s so big. Christ, it must weigh five pounds.”
Nico and Rocky both laughed at that, their twitches just out of sync.
Rocky looked Nico in the eyes now, solemn, steady. “Please, sir, please fuck me.”
“Yes, please, sir.”
Nico nodded. Rocky weighed about a hundred pounds less than he did, and it was easy for him to roll them over, still embedded in Rocky’s ass. Then Rocky was on his back, legs in the air, Nico’s hands on his ankles pinning them up to the wall.
Rocky looked up at Nico, so massive, so warm, so strong. Nico was pressing even deeper into him now, not asking, not warning, just…doing it. Rocky felt Nico’s cock push at something inside him, squeeze it – Rocky’s prostate, he knew from biology class. His cock responded with a short gush of fluid that oozed down his shaft.
Nico grinned and put a hand on Rocky’s cock, which almost made him scream. He scooped up the juices, pulled his own cock almost all the way out, leaving just the tip still inside. Then he slathered Rocky’s cum onto his own dick, and pushed it back in, his eyes never leaving Rocky’s.
“Fuck you with your own cum…”
“Oh, yeah, fuck yeah…”
Nico forgot to make him say “sir,” forgot everything as he began to move his hips, in and out, careful, so careful in that tight hole not to blow too soon.
Rocky thought he would faint with pleasure, as Nico varied his rhythm, slow stroke, fast stab, Rocky never able to anticipate, to steel himself for the blow when it came. His own hardon bounced and danced and dripped with the juices Nico was forcing out of his prostate when he hit it.
Nico groaned, moving slower, hissing, biting his lip, and with the practiced timing of an expert, pulled out, and ripped off the rubber, jacking himself furiously just as he started to come like a squirt gun, pow, pow, pow.
He got up in Rocky’s face, pumping himself hard, the meat of his hand between thumb and forefinger banging into Rocky’s chin as he shot in Rocky’s gaping mouth. Mostly in his mouth, anyway; his strokes sent shots flying onto Rocky’s cheeks, into his hair, and fuck, the look on Rocky’s delirious face, drunk on cum, made him shoot again.
“Clean it off,” he commanded, and Rocky went to work, enthusiastically removing every trace of lube and cum from Nico’s dick and balls, licking his own drippings off Nico’s abs, leaving him clean as a whistle. Then, as always, Nico jumped off the bed and dressed in a flash.
“All right. You keep that ass tight, you hear?” Nico said over his shoulder. “Don’t let anyone else in there. That shit’s mine.”
“Yes, sir,” Rocky smiled. “It’s all yours.”
Nico laughed, but didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. They both knew it was true.
Rocky sat down hard. Dizzy. Jet and Sam and Rick where screaming, shouting, high fiving. They were shaking beer bottles and squirting them like champagne.
All this time, all this effort. Of course it was going to pay off, right? Hadn’t he always had absolute certainty in that?
Sure. But that certainty had come with a wariness, a hesitation. Just as he’d resisted the urge to pack up and move to New York right after his first visit, he’d resisted the desire, the delusion, to believe that they would indeed “rule the galaxy” so quickly.
It was a good song. A really good song. With an anthemic beat, sweeping chords, soaring keyboards that gave a hat tip to New Order’s “Age of Consent,” and of course the rueful but also hopeful vocals, well…
DFA Records! They were going to have a single on DFA! It was un fucking believable.
Rocky grinned, took his beer baptism, loosened up and let out his own insane howl of glee, and joined the party. But of course, in the back of his mind, he could only think, what’s next? What do I do next? This more than anything was what was going to make him a success – an absolute steely resolve not to be a “one hit wonder.”
The sex with Nico only got better. Crazier. Rocky started to talk to Nico while he was getting fucked, egging him on.
“You love this, don’t you,” Rocky whispered one day. “A guy in a room, just waiting for you, for you to come and use him.”
Nico’s eyes widened, startled at Rocky’s sudden verbosity.
“Your secret. Nobody would ever dream it, would they, the quarterback fucking a dude in the ass. Fucking pounding a load into a dude’s mouth.”
He smiled, seeing the recognition in Nico’s face, the slowly spreading grin. “You walk around campus and you know, anytime you want it, you can just lift your little finger and there’s a gay dude who will give it up for you, anywhere, anytime…”
Nico laughed. “You dirty fucking piggy.”
“I wanna get you alone in the locker room one day. Text me when you’re there alone and I’ll come in and suck you right there, you in your cleats and your pads and your tight, tight pants…”
Nico scowled, hitched up Rocky’s ass high, so he could pound it as deep as he could go. “Yeah? You want me to fucking tackle you in the locker room, huh, have you on a bench?”
Rocky nodded, getting the words out between grunts from the impacts. “That’s what you really like, isn’t it. The danger. The excitement. They’re always telling you…o fuck…to keep your nose clean, to…o shit…stick to the straight and narrow path, and you hate it, you hate it…”
“FUCK!” Nico said, exploding inside him, no time to pull out and rip off the condom.
Rocky peeled it off him when he was done, inverted it, drank every drop of his cum.
This time, for the first time, Nico sat on the edge of the bed afterwards, still, thoughtful. “You’re right,” he said, staring at the wall. “It’s dangerous.”
Rocky felt a chill. Had he made a mistake? Had reminding Nico of the danger done the opposite of what he wanted? Had he just ended the whole thing?
Then he turned his head and gave Rocky his million dollar smile. “And you’re right. That’s why I like it.”
Rocky laughed, relieved. But when Nico left, he left out his usual cocky, flirty goodbye. “I’ll see you,” he said neutrally.
“Yeah,” Rocky replied. “See you next week.” It was a question.
Nico didn’t answer it.
In the days afterwards, he went over and over what he’d said, what he’d done. It was true, and he’d known it was true. It was always the people with everything to lose who risked it all. It was a combination of, yeah, the boredom with “the straight and narrow,” but something else too – that sense of invulnerability that great success grants to some people.
Back home, in that religious world, there was plenty of secret sinning. And the thrill of the forbidden was part of it. But part of it was the guilt, too. Korey was right, the whole engine ran on guilt – you could sin, hell, you should sin, because if enough people didn’t sin and get caught and repent, the whole works would fall apart. There had to be somebody to serve as the object lesson, the sacrificial lamb.
But what fascinated him most about Nico was his, well, his innocence. Nico had no guilt about fucking guys. Rocky knew he wasn’t the only object of Nico’s attentions, he saw the pictures and heard the stories – Nico’s weekends in Vegas, the rumors of coke and hookers and who knows what. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that hour he had with Nico once a week, when Nico was all his.
It wasn’t supposed to be enough, the whole world of popular culture and popular music and popular commerce rallied against him to scream about true love, my one and only, “he went to Jared!”
But it was. It was enough. When Nico was with him, they were together, completely. How many people did he see, did he know, almost burdened with each other, together out of the need to be coupled, whether out of the fear of being alone or just under the social pressure.
He and Nico were a couple, for that perfect moment. They were honest and open with each other, gave each other pleasure. Made each other laugh.
Wasn’t one perfect moment better than a thousand moments spent yearning for that one?
Yes, he decided. It was. It was more than enough.
They happened the same day, the best and worst news of his life.
He was home when Korey called him. “Check your email.”
“Why?” Rocky said.
“Just check it, your majesty.”
Rocky pulled up his gmail, opened Korey’s mail and the attachment.
“Oh holy shit.”
“Yeah. Congratulations. You entered the dance chart at #7. You got to get to New York, man. You guys got to make some dates. This thing is burning up the dance floor. And you’re gonna need a manager. And, since I’ve already got some entrepreneurial experience and contacts in the scene, may I suggest…”
“Of course. I mean, I’ll check with the guys but yeah. You’re hired, I’m sure.”
Rocky was reeling. Just! Like! That! he was a success. But it wasn’t really, he thought, “just like that.” It was a lifetime of work, of practice, of study, paying off at last.
“And there’s one more thing,” Korey said lightly. “Just a little offer.”
“How do you feel about selling out to the Man?”
“I feel poor. What’s the Man want?”
“The Man,” Korey teased it out, “wants to pay you…one hundred thousand dollars to use ‘Your Faith in Your Friends’ in a beer commercial.”
“Well, it started at 25K, but then I called another Man and started a bidding war. Presuming that I already had the manager job, of course.”
Rocky laughed. Tilted his head and roared. “FUCK YEAH!” he shouted.
“Awesome. Okay I gotta lotta paperwork to get run up for you guys to sign. If the rest of the guys agree; you put all four of you down as songwriters so it’s gonna need everyone’s approval.”
“Don’t worry,” Rocky said, remembering a weed-fueled discussion at a party, in which all the members of Your Pitiful Little Band enthusiastically eviscerated some trucker-hatted hipster who’d denounced bands that “sold out” their music for use in TV commercials. “We’re on board.”
On his way to tell the band, he stopped in the student union to load up on celebratory oversize overpriced foofy coffee drinks. While he waited in line, he checked out the TV, which was turned to SportsCenter.
Two commentators were frowning onscreen, with Nico’s picture in the background. The tag at the bottom of the screen read NICO PAULUS IMPLICATED IN AUTOGRAPH SCANDAL.
Rocky shook his head. What a bunch of bullshit. The school made about a trillion dollars on sales of Nico’s jersey, and they would begrudge him a couple dollars for reselling one with his signature on it? Of course, all of what came next would be enrobed in a rich sauce of hypocrisy, by those at TV networks that charged insane amounts of money for beer commercials during UGA games so they could pay absurd amounts of money to men in bow ties who would scowl at the camera, Stern Upholders of Standards, to denounce Nico for sullying the Purity of the Game.
Fucking bullshit, he thought, shaking his head. It would all blow over. It had to – it was just too ridiculous not to.
Nico ignored him in dance class, as usual. But Nico always found a moment when, with his quarterback’s perfect situational awareness, he knew that absolutely nobody but Rocky was looking at him, and that was when he’d throw him a wink, a promise of what was to come.
Not today. And after class, he could feel it – Nico wasn’t lurking behind him, discreetly following him to his room. It was as if Rocky could feel it, Nico’s lust, laser focused on his ass. But not today.
He turned, saw Nico headed the other way. Ran after him. “Hey. Hey!”
“Hey man,” Nico grunted, his face a mask.
“Aren’t we gonna…”
Nico cut him off. “No. Sorry dude, that’s done.” He moved off, and Rocky’s shock kept him rooted in place for a second.
“What do you mean?” he said angrily, racing after him. “Why?”
Nico kept moving. Rocky picked up his pace. “You fucking owe me that. At least. Please.”
Nico stopped. Turned, and Rocky’s next words caught in his throat. Nico’s face was stone, but his eyes were sad, apologetic. “You see the news?”
“Yeah, but that’s just some stupid…” He trailed off, as the look on Nico’s face told him otherwise.
“It’s like you said, dude. Danger’s exciting. Risk. But that’s it. I gotta do the thing now, you know, contrite and holy and all that. No more risk.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
Rocky opened his mouth but Nico walked away, and didn’t look back.