A gay story: The Fall of Troy Pt. 03 Note to reader…this story contains sneaker fetish themes, but maybe a little less so than the previous parts, as I’m hoping this series will appeal to a broader audience as it continues. It’s a longer one, so buckle up!
The alarm went off. I smiled before I even opened my eyes, and tuned into senses other than sight. The white spandex leggings and t-shirt hugged me tightly and smelled of Troy’s deodorant, and his body. I had tried to wear his chest pads too, though they became a bit uncomfortable shortly after I dozed off, and I had removed them. But they were there next to me also. I ran my hands over the shirt and leggings, feeling them on me, feeling my body under them. My heart rate rose a bit.
Yep, I was smitten.
Troy would probably say that was “swell, grandpa,” so I would never actually use the word “smitten,” even though his joking would be gentle and genuine, and even though there was no more perfect word for how I was feeling -totally struck by Troy.
More importantly, I couldn’t possibly tell him how I was feeling. Could I? No, just no. My mind reeled back to the events of the previous evening (and my duvet cover that still needed washing), and it started to look for a way out – I could mail back the things he left, and just go back to my fantasies and his cleats, in their place of honor in my closet.
Yeah, right, Mark. Try to un-ring that bell.
My ears were still ringing with his voice, and my nose was full of his scent. I could taste him on my tongue. And with my eyes closed he was still there, grinning at me goofily, or silently mouthing “Yeah,” with an upward flick of his head, daring me to keep worshipping his sneakers, his feet, or just…him.
I got up, peeled myself out of Troy’s clothing, and put it in my closet with his cleats. The shoulder pads found a place of honor on a nearby hook. I shivered briefly, remembering his strip-tease taking them off. Really, I had to laugh, looking at the collection of items I never imagined I would own, or that would have the backstory they did! At the same time, I was feeling a little let down. Or perhaps I was feeling embarrassed? Or at least I felt changed. It was one thing to have an object like Troy’s cleats, and even a picture of him, to fantasize about and satisfy desires with, but it was quite another to have met the owner in person, and to have acted out the fantasies in reality. The excitement I felt I could get from things Troy had owned – this was slowly being eclipsed by how I felt about the boy himself.
And that was starting to feel like a huge problem. Where was this going to go? Would we keep it casual and just mess around sometimes until he inevitably moved back home, or somewhere else for a job? Would I develop feelings for him that would ultimately leave me unhappy? Worst, to me, was the thought that he might develop feelings for me, only to have me pat him on the head and say “that’s nice, but I couldn’t possibly take someone your age seriously.”
Was that the worst possibility? No, I was kidding myself – he would probably be fine in any case. It was my own vulnerability that was making me feel crazy. Was that why was I thinking so hard about a simple hookup that was pretty great and that may or may not actually ever happen again?
I decided on a mental break. I wasn’t going to text Troy that day, or maybe even that week. I would see if I could do without him and leave his things in the closet and…sound totally like an addict.
I hadn’t checked my phone. Of course there was a text waiting to disrupt my sanity-planning:
“Morning, Zaddy – sleep well in my lax gear?” Smiley, hearts-for-eyes, drooling, laughing – lots of emojis.
My addict hands started to text back almost without thinking. “Sure did! The leggings and shirt made me feel like you were right next to me all -” Nope…delete, delete, delete. Try again. “Sure did!”
“Did you like smelling like me?” came seconds later. Absolutely trying to kill me.
“Not gonna lie, I love -” delete, delete, “Not gonna lie, pretty amazing.”
“Hope you have a good day at work.”
“Thanks, you too Troy.”
There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? This was fine, I…. Yeah, my heart was pounding in my face and my ears were ringing, and it felt hard to breathe.
Getting ready for work provided a good distraction, as did work itself. I checked my phone throughout the day, receiving and answering texts from the usual suspects, but I felt a tiny pang at each one that wasn’t from Troy – which was all of them. By the time I got home, and had time to sit and think about the fact that I hadn’t gotten a text from Troy all day, and ached more than just a little inside, I began to realize that I Had It Bad.
And then the worst possible thing happened. My phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. Turning it over slowly, I saw there was a text from Troy. Unconsciously holding my breath, I opened it.
“Hey Mark! Had a stupid busy day. Hope yours was better!”
I thought the dopamine rush would give me a seizure.
– – – – – – –
It was pushing into November now, a week and some days since Troy visited, and the weather was cooling. Work had been busier than usual, and I was getting better at not thinking about Troy all the freaking time.
We communicated pretty much every day, either by text or via the chat feature of our email. This was kind of like before we met, but our conversations were peppered with a bit more flirtation and innuendo than before, given what we’d shared. The communication was still so easy, whatever the subject, and his memory of our prior conversations continued to remind me that he was thoughtful, and a good listener: he’d ask about a patient I’d mentioned previously, or what I thought of a new beer I had bought, etc. It made me question whether I was as thoughtful, or paid as much attention to him. I wanted both to be true.
One weekend night I spiraled into an internet hole of true crime, or UFOs, or cryptids, as I often did, watching videos in a darkened room on my laptop. I jumped slightly at the unexpected PLING that came from the email browser window.
Troy: Hey!
Me: Jesus you scared me!
Troy: Did you think it was Gray Aliens or the Michigan Dogmen coming to get you?
See what I mean? He totally had my number. Is it any wonder I felt the way I did about him?
Me: Uh, yeah, you know me…
Troy: Hah, yeah I do! But hey I was thinking…I have next week off from class and research, and was gonna drive back to my parents place for a few days but also was thinking about coming to see you again?
Heart racing, breath holding, dopamine seizure.
Me: That sounds fun! When were you thinking?
Troy: well I know you work a lot so maybe friday night?
Me: Sure, I can make dinner.
I realized that sounded like a date, but I was caught up in the excitement of his expressed interest.
Troy: Wow that’s really nice but you don’t have to go to any trouble or anything.
Me: It’s no prob I do it for myself all the time haha
Trying to sound casual. Maybe “all the time” was a stretch, but I was already feeling the urge to back-pedal from “date language.”
Troy: ok…is there anything I can bring? Anything I should wear? I could change into my gear when I get there!
Wink emoji, shoe emoji – I didn’t know there was a lacrosse emoji, but of course he would. It was the cutest little ball and crosse.
Me: Now that’s trouble you don’t have to go through
I preferred the use of italics to emojis for expression in my text chats. What can I say? I was a nerd.
Troy: Oh…lost its thrill? Considering a switch to football? hhahh
To be honest I had gone back to Troy’s equipment in my closet multiple times, but it was feeling different. There was a longing, almost sentimental feeling I had for it now.
Me: OMG no, not at all. Well, I don’t want to be weird.
Troy: what?
Me: well, the whole fetish thing… it’s kind of a substitute for someone I can’t get close to. And the fact that we did what we did makes me think less about the gear and more about… you.
Troy: awwwwww so I ruined you on my cleats? HAha
Me: Don’t get me wrong your shoes and the smell of your feet in them is part of you and is so hot to me. And when you go back home after your internship or whatever you do I’ll totally want them to remember you.
…and probably totally miss you, I didn’t type.
Troy: hahaha maybe I’ll start a subscription service to Me
Me: Yeah I’ll need the Premium level please
Troy: oh you’re already on that plan! hahahaha
No shit, kiddo. I was totally Troy-matized.
We kept chatting for a bit, and agreed on 6 PM as a good meeting time. He said he’d bring some beer.
– – – – – – –
Each day as Friday closed in, I became some combination of more excited, nervous, and terrified. I did a decent job focusing at work, but thoughts of Troy continually cropped up, spurred by our impending…meeting. I refused to allow myself to think of it as a date, even though I had suggested dinner. We chatted about plans and what to eat, and settled on Italian - he wasn’t picky, he said.
I of course was, and loved having people to dinner. “Italian” to me meant homemade pasta and sauce, so I started the sauce the night before, and got home early Friday night. The pasta was made easy with KitchenAid rollers attached to Ethel, my beast of a mixer. After kneading the dough and letting it rest just a bit, I pulled pre-made meatballs out of the fridge and popped them in the oven, put on a pot of water to boil, warmed up the sauce, and cranked out (or Ethel did) sheets of pasta and ran them through the spaghetti cutter. There was little that satisfied me like having guests over for a meal I knew I had mastered, and had prepped in advance.
I was lost in draping the last of the fresh pasta over a long French rolling pin suspended between two open drawers, when the doorbell rang. I think my heart stopped for several beats. I went to the front door and opened it.
I realized that between the lacrosse roster pics and his last visit, I hadn’t really seen much of Troy in casual clothing. Perhaps I wasn’t ready for what I saw. He wore a stunning black parka with a fur-lined hood that lay across his shoulders and framed his face. The coat was partially unzipped, showing an orange shirt underneath. Tight dark navy jeans couldn’t possibly make his legs look even sexier, but they did. And these ran down to gray New Balance low running shoes with blue accents, that looked well-worn and stood out in contrast to the jeans. In his hand, he held a four-pack of Chimay Bleue.
I think my face had frozen, or maybe had fallen a bit, because he picked up on my expression and commented.
“Not as stunning out of lax gear, huh?” he chuckled.
Was he fucking kidding me? I couldn’t even think of what to say for a second, and then thought of all the wrong things to say that were too much, and settled on, “No, that’s just not true.” I felt my face getting hot. “You’re more so… now.” Gulp.
He grinned and stepped inside, putting down the beer. Then he threw his arms around me and lifted me off the floor a couple inches. My face was buried in the fur of his parka and his neck for a moment, and he smelled undeniably, intoxicatingly, of boy.
He let me down but I couldn’t feel the floor, and I thought my knees would buckle. For a moment, our faces were so close, and I felt paralyzed.
“Holy CRAP it smells good in here!” he broke the tension. “OH! Here’s a present,” he said, stepping back and picking up the Chimay. He held it out to me, looking down at it, and then up at me.
That single moment, the image of this beautiful boy who had just lifted me into the air and was now handing me my favorite beer, smiling at me with his eyes, waiting for my approval, was probably burned into my brain forever.
“I figured I drank half your stock last time I was here, so….” he scratched the back of his head and flashed a sheepish grin.
I took his offering. “That’s really sweet of you,” I smiled back. I was accustomed to going on with something like ‘you didn’t have to’ or ‘this is too expensive,’ but I had been trying to be more graciously thankful in general, lately. “Wow, it’s even cold!” I knew it didn’t come that way in stores, typically.
“Yeah, I got it a few days ago and put it in the fridge,” he said. He shrugged, unzipping his parka all the way. “Wasn’t sure if it would go with what you’re making, but you can’t drink it warm, if it does!”
How was he so ridiculously thoughtful? How was I not, just standing there and staring at him?
“Let me take your coat, sheesh,” I said, putting the beer on a hall table and reaching out for his parka. He took it off and handed it to me. Its warmth, and the smell of him that came from it, gave me a momentary thrill as I put it in the foyer closet.
I turned back to see him standing there in a tight long-sleeve orange Henley, with the top couple buttons undone, revealing a white crew neck tee underneath. The orange set off the blush of his lips and cheeks, probably exacerbated by the cold outside. And that adorable mole on his cheek – how did it make his smile more radiant? He was just beautiful, and I stared like an idiot.
“Ooh, lemme pop this in the fridge so it stays cold!” he said, springing into action and taking the beer off the table. He disappeared around the corner into the kitchen and I heard him open the fridge, place the beer inside, and close it. “My God, what’re you making?” he called from out of sight.
I snapped out of my daze. To focus and be my normal self was going to be more challenging than I thought. I walked toward the kitchen, and my feet felt heavy.
I found Troy, mouth agape, looking from a piece of spaghetti he had picked up, over to Ethel, and back. “How are you- is this… did you make this?”
I smiled and shrugged, loving that he was poking around my kitchen. Before I could say anything, the timer went off, signaling that the meatballs were done. Grabbing a mitt, I opened the oven, and pulled out a pan with six of them on it, softball-sized and sizzling. I gently placed each into the Dutch oven with the sauce, relit the burner, and partially lidded it. The pot of water was just boiling.
“Can you bring me that rolling pin with the pasta on it?” I asked. He picked it up gingerly, watching the spaghetti sway like hair, and brought it over to me. I took it from him and slid all of the golden strands into the boiling water, stirring them. “It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
“Who are you?!” he chuckled.
“It’s my creative outlet,” I explained, while stirring. “And food is my lo- …my way of giving.” I had stopped myself before completing the phrase ‘love language.’ It was completely valid, I said it all the time, and I was saying it to Troy with this meal, but I was more than sure that it wasn’t the time for that word.
I put down the spoon and turned around to find Troy incredibly close. He threw his arms around me and hugged me, burying his face in my neck. It took me a second to catch up, and I hugged him back.
“No one’s… I mean… I’ve never…,” he searched for words. “No one’s ever done all this for me,” he said, over my shoulder. He strained his neck toward the stove and inhaled, as though he were trying to taste the sauce with his nose. Then he came back to my neck, exhaling against it with warm breath, and pulling back to stare at me from his three-inch height advantage.
I couldn’t look up at him, and could feel my face hot and probably looking blushed. I wanted desperately to kiss him, to tell him how much I loved having him that close, but felt I might lose my proverbial shit if I did.
I turned my head to the right a little, looking towards the stove. “Fresh pasta cooks fast, don’t wanna overdo it!” I laughed, nervously.
Troy stepped back quickly, looking down. “I’m…sorry I didn’t mean to get…weird?”
The pasta was absolutely done and I had to work quickly, but I didn’t want to leave him hanging. “I think…” I started, as I turned off the burner and picked up the pot with mitted hands, “or I worry, that the only way it would get ‘weird’ is if I told you how you made me feel.”
Arms closed around my waist from behind as I finished pouring the spaghetti into a colander in the sink. A chin rested on my left shoulder. “Maybe you should risk it,” Troy said.
My heart raced. I placed the empty pot in the sink, tossed the mitts aside, and turned around to face him. “Caught off guard, kinda nervous, and not sure what to think,” I listed, avoiding staring at him.
“You like knowing what to think, huh?” he smiled.
“Comes with the job I guess,” I returned, looking at him now. “For right now though, I think dinner’s ready!” I segued, winking cheesily.
“Anything I can help with?” he asked.
“Eating it!”
He laughed. “Okay, dad! I mean… dad joke, you know.” He scratched the back of his head and did the crooked smile thing again, trying to kill me, apparently.
I heaped most of the drained pasta into a couple of oversized bowls, ladled sauce and two meatballs on each, and took them to the dining table. I usually liked sitting next to guests, rather than across from them, and that’s how I had arranged things. The silverware and parmesan were already set out.
“Y’know I think Chimay would be fantastic with this, unless you wanted something else,” I offered.
“Twist my arm!” Troy agreed. He went to the fridge to grab the beers while I got the glasses, and we ended up back at the table, tucking into the meal.
“Mmm, I bet you already know how good this is, but holy fuck,” Troy said, between bites. He could eat, and I was glad there was extra.
We slipped into steady conversation between bites, and he started to tell me more about his family. Our email chats had been fairly light in the few months we’d been talking, usually focusing on what the day held for each of us, things we were dealing with – I realized I had never asked much about his family or his background. I had been curious about his sexual experience too, but I wanted to let him tell me when he felt like it.
He had a younger sister, like I did, and a relatively happy childhood. Of course he was into sports and an accomplished athlete, but he wanted to focus on academics. His parents lived not far from where he went to school, and mom’s cancer was still in remission, thankfully. He had told me he was bisexual in our first conversation, but I had never asked more about this; in fact he had been with a couple guys in college, and there was one guy he thought he was dating, who had even come home with him to visit on break, but they never really named it. He tended to have crushes on his younger professors. His parents suspected his sexuality, and he had hinted at it, but as his uncle had died of AIDS, the topic was a bit of a “no-fly zone” (his words) at home.
We also talked about recent relationships. I told him there was a guy I had been seeing, but not seriously and not for a little while now; he had an on-again-off-again girlfriend, currently off. He was a top in the pseudo-relationship he’d had with a guy, and they had sex a few times, but it “was pretty awk.” I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but jealousy and a sense of competition (recalling how surprised he seemed at how I had made him feel last time) were in there somewhere.
“So… what do you want?” I found myself asking him.
“…do you mean like ‘more meatballs,’ or ‘in life?'” he asked back, laughing. “Cuz I can tell you I’m pretty full!”
“The second one,” I said, smiling.
“Hmm. That’s a tough one. I guess I don’t know but… maybe lookin for someone to show me?”
His answers to my questions typically made me think harder about what to say next. So I tried, “So how do you think you’ll know? Like, what will tell you?”
He thought for a bit, swirling some last spaghetti strands in sauce in his bowl aimlessly. “I’m… I’ve tried the girl thing, but I think I’m just trying to make my parents happy with that. When I was with you… well, I know it was ‘unconventional’ but… I dunno….” He paused for a few seconds. “My mom once told me it wasn’t very long after she met my dad that she knew, and I’m a lot like my mom so…I think at some point I’ll just know, when I’m with… him.”
When he stopped speaking, he looked up at me with his dark eyes, and perfect blush lips smiled slightly. My fork slipped out of my hand, falling onto my plate with a loud CLANG. I laughed to break the tension, feeling totally naked.
I was falling hard for Troy. Maybe I shouldn’t keep going down this road, and maybe if we just parted with fond memories of friendship and a single (fairly perfect) instance of intimacy, that would be best. I figured I’d find a deft way to bow out after dinner: maybe I had work really early in the morning, or I got a phone call and had to go into work quickly, or something….
We both spoke at once.
“Uh, Mark I was thin-”
“Troy I-”
We laughed. “You go ahead,” I said.
“Well I was wondering…” he scratched the back of his head, looked down, and then looked back up at me from behind his bangs, smiling. “I kind of brought an overnight bag if….”
I stopped being able to feel my face. All the blood rushed either out of or into my head, couldn’t tell which. I was literally prepared to make excuses and part ways, because my insides were doing acrobatics, but the Universe laughed and said, “Fuck you!” I wanted to shout back that I couldn’t possibly have a serious relationship with a 26-year-old. But the way Troy tentatively looked up at me, asking politely but fearlessly to spend the night… I was utterly defeated. I was also tempted to comically clear the entire table and dive onto it shouting, “Take me, now!”
I stammered. “I… I uh….”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like, assume or whatever. I totally get it if -”
“NO! I mean no…” I said, louder than I wanted to; my body felt out of control. Troy jumped a little. I breathed. “I mean. Jesus, how could I say no to that request?” He looked up with a big smile. I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this so I’ll just throw it out there. You were just a fantasy when your shoes arrived in that foyer, and now here you are in person, ridiculously attractive and smart, and kind, asking to spend the night? What the fuck kind of world is this?” I laughed. “I just can’t believe you’re for real.”
“So, that’s a yes then?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and smirking a little.
– – – – – – –
I gave in to the Universe’s apparent designs for me, and things very quickly devolved into a bona fide date after the dinner conversation. Not gonna lie, I wanted to do all kinds of things with Troy, but now there was maybe less of a rush, and we decided to watch a movie. I allowed myself no delusions about the likely long-term success of dating someone so young, but if this was going to be a date, dammit I’d treat it like any other. Troy asked me to pick the movie, and I chose Grosse Pointe Blank, one of my favorites. With a date, especially an early one, I liked watching a movie I had seen multiple times, as this did a couple things for me. It allowed me to see a favorite movie, but to sort of enjoy it in a new way, through someone else’s eyes. I knew almost every line and gag, so I could gauge the date’s reaction to things – did we have similar senses of humor, did he totally not get it, or did he see things I’d missed before? It wasn’t a conscious, continual assessment like I performed on my patients, but I felt like it gave me a window into someone I was curious about, and I had become very, very curious about Troy Daniels.
At the scene when Marcella is flipping between phone calls, ordering three thousand rounds of nine-millimeter subsonic ammunition one minute, and then giving out advice on how to make chicken soup the next, Troy was chuckling pretty hard. When Martin tells his classmate, “Thanks for the pen,” after killing his would-be assassin at his high school reunion with said pen, Troy was laughing out loud. And when he looked over at me with a mischievous smirk and asked, “Was your ten-year reunion this exciting, Zaddmeister?” I poked him in the ribs and we tussled briefly until I ended up leaning on the couch arm, with Troy leaning on me.
He had kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up to get closer to me, stopping after removing the first one to say, “Oh, should I have left these on?” I shook my head in reply and smiled, reaching for him.
As we lay together and finished the movie, he squeezed my feet between his, suffusing them with warmth. He grabbed a blanket that was over the back of the couch and pulled it over us, and we made ourselves comfortable together.
As the credits rolled and “Blister in the Sun” played, I turned my head to look at Troy. He was looking at me.
“That was a really fun movie. I bet you knew every line, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Well, kinda. It’s a favorite.”
“Thanks for sharing it with me!” He punctuated this with a hug. I reached for the remote and stopped the DVD (I know, but I’m old fashioned). In the movement, Troy had situated himself a little more on top, and was now looking down at me. “Pretty romantic how it took them ten years, but they finally got together, huh? ‘Teeen hhYYEEEEARS!'” he quoted.
“…Yeah,” I said, quietly. A lump was forming in my throat. I looked left, right, anywhere but up.
Troy continued to look at me, looming heavily and supporting himself with his gorgeous arms. I was greedily feeling his triceps, still trying not to look directly at him. “Um… can I kiss you?” he asked softly.
Funny that despite hooking up already, we hadn’t actually kissed. The fact that he asked made my head spin. I wanted to reply, “Sure, it might destroy me, but go right ahead!” But I just nodded, almost imperceptibly.
His blush-pink lips came down and covered mine, and he took my upper lip between his, sucking slightly. I put my hand on the side of his face, and ran my fingers up into the longer hair on top of his head, which I’d wanted to do all night. His pouty lower lip caught between mine, I bit just slightly with my teeth. He moaned and then gently filled my mouth with his tongue, running it along my upper teeth before pulling up and smiling at me. We were both breathing a little harder. My heart was racing.
“You’re pretty handsome,” he said.
“You’re… just pretty,” I countered.
He laughed: eyes squinted, mouth opened, teeth shining, brown curls dangling towards me. It was another snapshot I would probably never forget.
Then he collapsed on top of me, nuzzling his head against my shoulder. Each of us could feel that the other was aroused. He pressed his into me slightly and said, “Mmm. Take me to bed?”
“I’ll show you to the guest room,” I joked. I don’t know how I still had a single wit about myself.
“Ha, ha, ha, Zaddy. Take me to YOUR bed!” he said, covering my lips with his again, then kneeling up between my legs.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked at the lacrosse god who had just asked me to sleep with him. “I kind of… want to ask you something. But I don’t want it to be an… well because I don’t want it to be an issue.”
He winked at me. “I haven’t been with my uh, girlfriend or anyone else in a couple months… and with my mom’s heath issues I decided to take my own seriously, and got tested and vaxxed and all that before I moved down here.”
I felt like he was handing me the keys to a new Porsche. ‘She’s all shiny, don’t scratch ‘er!’
“Same here,” I said, “but replace the word ‘girlfriend’ with ‘gentleman caller,’ and the phrase ‘mom’s health issues’ with ‘getting older.'”
“HAH!” he laughed loudly, in a way that suggested, ‘I’m gonna do crazy things to you, then!’
We got up from the couch, and Troy picked up the blanket and began folding it. He saw me staring at him, and commented, “I always clean up my messes!”
‘How will he clean up the mess he’s making of me?’ my brain asked.
He picked up the gray-and-blue NBs that he’d kicked off earlier, and stood at attention. I walked by, taking his other hand and looking back at him. He was smiling, and his eyes shone.
When we got to the stairs, he mentioned his overnight bag was in his car. He slipped the NBs on and ran out the front door to get it, returning in moments with a black duffel in one hand and a clutch of sunflowers in the other.
“I forg- …well, I wasn’t sure if… anyway. These are for you!” He thrust the bouquet out at me.
“You’re making me physically ache inside, you know that, right?” I rubbed my chest, pretending to complain.
He dropped the duffel, stepped toward me, put his strong hand gently but firmly around my neck and pulled me to him for a deep kiss. I held onto his shoulders. “How do you think you made me feel with that dinner?” he asked.
I went to the kitchen to get a vase and some water, cut the stem ends, placed them in the center of the island. They looked beautiful, and I really was aching inside – I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had brought me flowers. Troy had joined me, watching, amused. We went back to the foyer towards the stairs, and I picked up his bag.
“Can I show you to your room?” I asked, with an ingratiating tone, walking up the stairs.
He took my free hand, walking behind me. “As long as it’s where you’re going, too.”
I switched on a nightstand light, set his bag down by the bathroom door, and turned to see him sitting on the bed, watching me. I walked over and knelt in front of him like the last time, and took each of his sneakers off, holding them over my face. They seemed more used than the mid-tops he wore with his lacrosse uniform, and smelled more deeply of his musk. The black crew socks he had on were just slightly damp and warm, and I rubbed and kissed them for a moment.
“Hey Mark,” he said quietly. I looked up at him. He was biting his lip slightly. “I wore those for you, figured you’d like em. But I kind of… want to… do more than last time.”
My heart raced. “Me too, I just figured I’d help you get ready for bed.” I kissed each foot again.
He laughed. “Can I watch you get ready?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you can tell a lot about someone by watching their night routine,” he explained, “especially if you’ve never seen it before.” Was he 26 or 76? Where was all this wisdom from?
“I’ll feel self-conscious but sure, what the hell!” I laughed.
I went to the bathroom and turned on the warm water, waiting for it to come to temperature. Next, I took out and put away my contacts, testing the water to see if it was warm yet. When it was, I brushed my teeth, and washed my face. Finally, I put on moisturizer, and my glasses, all while Troy watched, bemused, from the doorway.
I walked back to the bedroom to get into my night clothes – pajama pants and an old soft t-shirt – while Troy started to get ready. I watched him brush his teeth, and got him a clean towel from the bathroom closet. He peeled off his jeans, revealing sheer white boxer briefs, and continued with socks, and the orange Henley. The white undershirt hugged him tightly, and seemed continuous with the boxer briefs, all of it showing off his body so beautifully that my knees felt weak. His backside in particular was so perfectly shaped, I was saddened when he also put on pajama pants, pulled from his bag.
I pulled back the duvet (cover washed) and sheets. “What side would you like?”
“Next to you,” came the reply. I rolled my eyes and laughed, even though inside my heart felt like it would jump out of my chest. I took the left side and gave him the right, closer to the window.
Once we were situated, heads on pillows, looking at each other, I asked, “So what did you learn, staring at me brushing my teeth and all?”
“Hmm,” he rolled his eyes up, thinking, “you’re thorough and take care of yourself with the moisturizer. You live a little dangerously, taking your contacts out while the water’s running. And you value comfort, blowing through gallons of water waiting for it to get warm!” he laughed. “My parents always yelled at us that they were ‘paying for all that, turn it off already!'”
So each of us had apparently spent time that evening, scrutinizing the other. I wasn’t sure what he thought of his results, but the final tally on my end was solidly in favor of Troy. I hadn’t felt this kind of emotional availability from guys a decade or more older.
“I love that you analyzed me so closely, ‘Dr. Danners.'” We both laughed at the pseudonym. “But really I…,” I searched for words, “…I don’t know how to say this, but this whole night… there were times when I must have seemed rude, or maybe even uninterested, but inside I’ve been like, kind of nervous. You make me feel totally naked and exposed, like you can see right through my skin. It’s creeping me out but it’s also the nicest thing ever.”
Troy took my face in his hands and gave me what felt like the longest, sweetest, strongest kiss I’d ever had. It took my breath away.
“My turn,” he started. “you being a little nervous, and admitting it, is super attractive. There are lots of guys your age who want to hook up with guys my age – I know because I’ve chatted with some! – but not a lot who make me feel taken seriously. When I talk to you I forget the age thing. And maybe I like putting Dr. Smith off his guard once in a while. You’re a good sport about it.”
“Clearly you enjoy that!” I laughed, tweaking his nose.
He took my hand and kissed it. I pushed my fingers up through his gorgeous hair, around to the back of his head, and pulled him in for another kiss. He moved closer to me, and our bodies seemed to flow together naturally, so that he ended up on top of me. As we kissed, I ran my nails gently in the deep channel between his back muscles, splayed my hands over his perfect ass. I pushed my fingers under the back of his underwear and grabbed him firmly. He moaned slightly while kissing me, clenched his glutes, and pressed his swelling cock into mine, grinding his hips slowly. With the motion of his hips, I started to rhythmically lower his pajamas and underwear, as he helped me a little, finally pushing them off of him with my foot, deep into the recesses of the bed covers. He was rock hard, and he pressed into me, covering my body again with his.
He kissed my cheek and then licked the edge of my ear. “I want to make you feel the way you made me feel last time,” he whispered softly, before covering my ear with his mouth. His tongue found its way into my ear, so carefully. Then he opened his mouth slightly, and inhaled. The rush of air felt so cold, it added to what I was already feeling inside, and made me physically shiver.
I clutched his back and then his shoulders. “I don’t… I… think you’re already successful there,” I said haltingly.
I heard him smile. “Good.”
He knelt up between my legs, and curled his fingers over the waistband of my pajama pants and underwear. I helped him as he pulled them down and off of my legs, and watched as he balled up my boxer briefs and pressed them to his face, inhaling, biting them. He rubbed them down his chest, abs, and briefly clenched them around his cock, stroking it with the sheer fabric, before putting them aside.
I was at full attention, and Troy eagerly threw himself into exploring me. His tongue curved under my scrotum and he pressed lips and teeth inward, making my cock pulse, the skin of its head briefly taut and shiny. I moaned as he probed deeply to either side of my now-tight balls with his tongue, slowly washing me and inhaling my scent.
“You smell so good,” he panted, biting his lip. He clearly was enjoying himself, and I was breathing heavily, heart racing, watching him.
Troy licked from the skin under my balls, between them, all the way up along my shaft to the tip, kissed it playfully, and sat up with a mischievous grin on his face. He looked to his left and then leaned, reaching over the side of the bed with his long arm, returning with his NB sneakers and dropping them next to me. He took one, pulled the tongue toward the laces, and firmly placed the opening over my nose and mouth, as I felt him take my cockhead into his mouth. He slid farther down my length than I expected, and I breathed in deeply in surprise, filing my lungs with his athletic musk. I felt like I was floating.
I held his sneaker to my face and he propped himself up with both arms, now solidly blowing me. I felt like I was going to explode as he went down on me shockingly deep, and in pulling off, raked my shaft slightly with his teeth. He began to suck more insistently at the head, and I had to stop him. I reached down and placed my hand under his chin, gently nudging him off of me.
I looked down at him. His eyes searched my face, perhaps wondering if he’d done something wrong. His soft pink lips were wet and pouty. “Now you’re gonna make me cum too soon, and I don’t want to yet,” I said. He broke into a smile that lit up his face as if the sun had come from behind a cloud. I was already close, and seeing him looking at me that way just about sent me over the edge. But I was able to settle.
“Hah! Sorry I got greedy,” he laughed. “I think… I think I want to eat your cum. I want it inside me.” He got quieter as he said this, and blushed slightly.
I caressed his face. “I don’t think there’s a lot I wouldn’t do for you. And,” I looked down, “I think I want you inside me.” My heart skipped a beat.
Troy’s eyes widened briefly and his nostrils flared. As he peeled the white t-shirt he was wearing along his lithe torso and up over his head, it seemed to happen in slow motion. His muscles rippled – abs, lats, then the sleeves slid along delts, triceps, over his head, until it was at last free from his body. His gold chain and cross glittered as it fell back into place on his chest. Fine dark hair in his armpits stood out against his fair skin. In a smooth motion, he tossed the shirt aside as his arms came back down. All his muscles worked in beautiful coordination, settling back into their usual positions and defining a statue-like torso, shoulders, arms, towering over me like a Greek kouros.
I leaned up, took my shirt off quickly, and lay back down. Troy lowered himself onto me, pressing my body with his, and kissing me deeply. The coldness of his necklace was electric on my chest. I felt his cock slide under my balls, and down between my legs, as if seeking to enter me. My breath hitched and became irregular, and my body shuddered briefly. He nuzzled his face into my neck, slowly, rhythmically grinding into me.
“Feeling you there…” I whispered, “it’s so… right.” I couldn’t come up with something more descriptive, but what else was there to say?
Troy pulled up slowly, kissing my neck, my cheek, and then burying his tongue deeply into my mouth. I began to press my hips up against his to meet his efforts, and he was hot and increasingly wet between my legs as I felt sweat and precum start to mix.
“Mark I have to… stop or I’m…” he whispered in my ear, between breaths. We stopped grinding against each other and I placed my hand on the small of his back, sliding downward, feeling slick sweat, my hand cupping the curve of his perfect, taut ass. We lay that way for what felt like minutes, just breathing, and being close.
Troy inhaled deeply, kissed my neck open-mouthed, then licked the edge of my ear, and whispered, “I want to be inside you. How do you… want to do that? Like this?”
I ran my hands slowly through his hair, looking up at him towering over me. I wanted him so badly I would have done almost anything he asked. But I also wanted him to enjoy, and I was still somewhat unclear about his level of experience. “Was there a way you liked doing it with… your guy in college?” I asked, gently.
He chuckled nervously. “ANY way but that way. That was not good. And he made me feel…,” he trailed off.
“What, honey?”
“Dumb.” He was looking away from me when he said it, and then looked back at me, only briefly, seeming embarrassed.
My heart sank. “Troy.” He looked at me. I held his gaze, and took his chin between my thumb and finger. “You have been killing it, with me, from the start. You’re driving me absolutely wild, and there is nothing you could do that would make me think that about you.”
Troy bit his lip and looked sideways. His eyes started to shine and well up, and he wiped them with the back of his hand. He laid his weight back down on me, resting his cheek on my shoulder, and I stroked the back of his head. He sighed deeply.
“You already know what to do,” I started, “you just need a little guidance from me, because everyone’s different. It’s just anatomy,” I laughed softly.
He laughed also, sniffling a little. “Okay Doctor Zaddy,” he said, pushing himself up over top of me again, “I would love a lesson in your anatomy.”
I leaned up on my elbows, then to the left toward the nightstand. Opening the drawer, I pulled out a bottle of lube.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
My eyes bulged wide. Maybe that had been his problem before? Oh, man. “Uh… it’s….”
Troy’s eyes squinted and he laughed out loud. “You should have seen your face! I know what lube is.”
I swung my arm around his torso, leaned to my right and tackled him, pushing him onto his back. I buried my face in his neck, growling and pretending to bite. He howled and laughed.
We panted for a moment, staring at each other. “God, you are so fucking adorable,” I said.
He smiled, grabbed my rear, bit his lip and started grinding into me. I could feel us both getting hard again.
I uncapped the lube, put some on my middle finger, and found his hole, massaging it slightly. His eyes widened, and my finger popped just inside. “HOLY fuck!” he panted, quietly. “But I thought….”
“I’m just gonna show you what I want you to do to me,” I said softly, pushing just a little deeper into him. His tight hole loosened a little, and felt so incredibly warm around my finger. I stopped and had a sudden, nervous thought. “Troy… has anyone ever… have you ever let someone do this to you before?”
His lips were tight and he looked to be blushing a little. He shook his head. “No but… I mean I’ve done it to myself a little but… no,” he faltered.
“Is it okay?” I raised an eyebrow.
He curled his lips in, bit them, and nodded. Then he reached up and gripped my elbow very firmly with his right hand, covering my hand with his left, and pushed me deeper into him.
“I’ve felt this before but it wasn’t… your finger and it wasn’t… you doing it to me and… fuck Daddy please finger me!”
Troy was fully hard now, his cock arching up over the trail of dark hair under his navel, pulsating. I leaned down and kissed him, gently finger-banging the prettiest boy who had ever asked me to do so.
“I think it’s your turn,” I whispered in his ear. “Do this to me the same way?”
He nodded. As I slipped my finger slowly out of him, Troy reached up and placed his hand on my shoulder, pushing me over to the left and onto my back. He looked me in the eyes and, if he had been somewhat nervous before, now seemed to have a look of confidence on his face. It was mesmerizing, and I could feel myself getting harder.
He found the lube, put some on his middle finger, and reached down between my legs, curling his finger in towards my hole. I felt him massaging the lube in gently, then more forcefully until his fingertip entered me. He stopped, pulled back out, massaged some more, and then pressed back into me, just as I had done to him. I knew he was ridiculously smart, and physically talented, and couldn’t imagine what his college “boyfriend” had done to make him feel so inadequate.
“You’re doing so good,” I encouraged. “That feels really good.” I stroked his arm softly and nodded as he pressed deeper into me. “So good.”
When he was all the way in, he leaned down and kissed me. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked, sounding a little more unsure now.
“Oh my God yes, Troy. Yes.”
He smiled, kissing me again. I reached down to see that he was incredibly hard. I cupped his heavy balls and squeezed gently. His eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Oh God, I wanna be inside you so badly. I need to be in you. Please,” he moaned.
I nearly laughed with joy at the sound of desire in his voice, and the look of aching want on his face. “Okay,” I smiled. I ran my hand down his arm and held his hand, easing his finger out of me. Turning onto my right side, I asked him to lie behind me, holding me. “Just like this,” I whispered, kissing his hand and wrapping his arm around me.
I felt him, hot and rigid, pushing up between my legs and into my scrotum from behind. The feeling drove me absolutely wild. I found the lube, applied a good amount to my right hand, and reached down between my legs to find him. He gasped slightly at the coolness of the lube slicking his shaft along its length. I guided him back towards my hole, helping him get oriented.
He leaned up slightly and kissed me, then kissed my earlobe, whispering, “…are you sure you want me to?”
“I want you inside me so badly, Troy.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I had suspected this was what he worried about – what might have colored his last experience, which he had described as ‘not good.’ I squeezed his left hand in mine and pulled his arm tighter around me. “Just like your finger, baby… you won’t hurt me.”
I felt his cock pulse and I pushed back slightly against it. He moved his left arm down and grabbed hold of himself, mounting pressure to meet my efforts. I relaxed as his head popped just inside me.
I gasped. “ohmygod, that feels so good.”
He leaned up again and kissed my neck. I heard him sigh as he pulled back out of me slowly, and felt him rubbing his wet cockhead back and forth, pressing into me again. He shuddered.
Troy kissed my neck again, a full open-mouthed, biting, latching-on that felt like using a strong hand to hold me down. I breathed in sharply and felt him push back into me. His head popped in, and then his shaft slowly, easily filled me. I raised my left leg up slightly over him, as he pressed the last inch of his rock-hard cock into me, as deep as it would go.
My breath stopped, my heart raced, my ears rang, and I gasped. As Troy’s left arm came back up around me to hold me tightly, confidently to him, I felt the warm sweat of his chest, the pound of his heart in my back. He was all the way up inside me, and seemed to fit so perfectly. The sensation was warm, electrical, overpowering and empowering at the same time. I let loose with a pressured whisper, sliding into a whimper – “Baby, you are so deep inside me I want you to fuck me and totally own me right now please please it feels so fucking good….”
In the midst of my emotional torrent, I heard Troy let out a sound that seemed both a sob and a cry of triumph. He pulled out slightly and then filled me again with his perfectly-shaped shaft; I hadn’t felt this good with a guy inside me for as long as I could remember.
“Yes baby please fuck me, please,” I breathed in a high pitch. I turned my head and we strained to kiss each other.
Troy’s right arm slid under my head and wrapped around my torso, pulling me even closer. I felt him looking up over my shoulder, and saw his left hand find and pick up one of his NB sneakers, which was close by on the bed. He pressed the opening over my face, and thrust himself deeply into me.
“Oh, fuck!” I cried out. I breathed in deeply and his scent filled my lungs, while his beautiful cock filled my hole.
My left hand clutched at Troy’s thigh, but my right found his other sneaker. I slipped it down over my aching hardon and pushed into it, literally going balls-deep and feeling its rough insides stimulate my taut skin.
I was surrounded and filled by Troy on all sides, in every possible way I could imagine, and for a moment everything stopped. I breathed deeply, felt Troy’s chest adhered to my back with sweat, felt him holding me so tightly, heard him panting at my neck. It was a brief moment of perfect, still pleasure on so many levels.
Troy whispered in my ear, “It’s… you’re… so warm. And tight. Around me. In you. I….” He exhaled in catching, stuttering breaths.
I turned to whisper to him, “You feel so good inside me.” I felt him throb deep inside me. “Hah! Yeah that… that’s so fucking-” Throb. Throb. He did it twice, on purpose. It drove me absolutely crazy. “Fuck YES baby!” I rasped in a husky whisper as I backed into him. “Give it to me!”
Motion set in again, quickly. Troy began to thrust into me with increasing force – not clumsily, but with certain, confident precision. I had never felt so willingly invaded. I also pressed into his sneaker, and both of us exhaled with our efforts, breathing in deeply before the tensing of our muscles moved us again in unison.
We continued this in cycles, moving together until one or the other of us would stop. For my part, this was because I was so close to exploding and shooting my load, and I couldn’t let this be over so quickly; I assumed the same for him. This kept up for what felt like hours, but certainly wasn’t more than one, though I had lost all track of time. There was no rush, and I had rarely achieved this state of bliss with someone before. In between bouts of straining together, everything would stop again, and there would be the sensation of floating, bathing in the touch and smell of each other, until another set of the ocean waves that were our mutual passion crashed on shore, tossing our bodies together, rapt with ecstasy.
The sensation started inside me, where it felt like Troy was pressing deeper each time. It was an aching, tingling feeling that I knew was the beginning of an orgasm I would want to ride to its conclusion. This had happened only a couple times before for me, when the sensation started deep inside me, instead of somewhere between my legs.
I let out a low moan, getting louder with each thrust from Troy. He grabbed and held his sneaker closer to my face while he fucked me, and I gripped the other one around my cock. Feeling him force me to breathe his scent deeper made me feel so completely his. My ears started to ring, and the entire lower half of my body started to ache. I felt the muscles begin to contract where Troy was deep inside me, and my legs shook as wave after wave of cum began to erupt from me. My moans had become louder – bursts of almost painful, exquisite pleasure. My mind floated for a moment and it felt like I lost all connection to my body.
Gently, firmly, almost forcefully, Troy increased his hold on my body and turned both of us face down. He was on top of me now, pounding down into me, covering me with himself entirely. His powerful legs pinned my thighs wide and down. Like a cresting wave about to break, quietly at first, I heard him whispering, “Oh God… oh God… oh God….”
I went perfectly still, willed my mind to focus on where Troy was inside me. His whispers had become cries aloud without words, coming with each wave of him throwing himself against me, inside me, calling me back to reality. With a final thrust, his entire length pulsed deep within me, and I could feel his cum start pouring into me, every throb of his body, filling mine.
Troy buried his face in my neck, a loud whisper erupting, “Oh my God Da… Mark… I love you I lo -….” He cut himself off with a loud exhaling, almost a cough. He was shaking, holding me so tightly I stopped breathing for a moment. His bursts deep within me gradually subsided.
I started to breathe again as Troy relaxed his arms gradually, and we lay, still connected together. He was under me, over me, all around me, and my heart wanted to stay there forever. I felt his body move against mine as his heaving breaths slowed.
Slowly we uncoupled, and I turned around to face him, both of us flushed, sweaty, panting. I placed my hand on his cheek, and he took my face in his hands, kissing me so deeply, then showering my face with kisses. We were both speechless. I looked into his eyes to see them glistening. A tear fell sideways across his face toward the bed.
I wrapped my arms around him and felt my own eyes burn. “I know, it’s… yeah,” was all I could manage, as a lump grew in my throat.
Troy’s arms tightened around me. “Did… was that okay? For you, at the end?” he half-whispered, his voice streaked with emotion.
“Baby, I don’t even know how to tell you,” I managed, my voice breaking up.
We kissed again, long, slow, easy love-making with our mouths. I kissed his tears and tasted their salt. A strange thought entered my mind, like a voice – this won’t be the last time.
Eventually parts of us started to stick together, and we laughed about it. I got up and grabbed towels, turning on the shower to get it warmed up. Troy followed. We washed each other slowly, methodically, both getting hard again in the process, and kissing deeply as the water played on our faces. We said very little with words, and a lot more with our hands. Warm and clean, we dried each other in the same slow, intimate way, and walked back to bed, putting our night clothes back on.
Suddenly quite tired, I turned out the nightstand light, got into bed, and rolled onto my back. Troy pulled the covers up and lay his head on my shoulder, holding my chest as I put my arm around him. I stroked his hair, neck, and the furrow between his back muscles, down and back up, over and over, until I felt him grow heavier on me, and his breathing slowed and deepened.
My mind spoke to itself.
No words, Troy. Just sleep on me while I lie awake, thinking of the crazy sequence of events that led us to this point, replaying the crescendo of my heart swelling all evening, until it shattered open. You’re my Trojan Horse, I let you through the gate, and now I’m utterly defeated.
Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris
incipit et dono divum gratissima serpit.
– – – – – – –
I knew it was all over for me when the dawn’s light gently pried my eyelids open. We awoke in exactly the same position in which we’d fallen asleep, hours later, not having moved an inch. I had been exhausted, reeling with hormones and emotion, feeling everything. Then my mind had rested, and coming out of sleep, it was presented with a fantasy scene of a boy angelically asleep on me, as we held each other, sunlight streaming in from a cold fall morning. The talismans of clothing and armor, in which I had dressed my body several nights ago, had become flesh and blood wrapped around me, warm and breathing. The beauty of it all jogged the same emotions, now for a fresh and alert mind that discovered it could find no fault with what had happened, and no reason to feel anything for the kouros in my arms but lo-
“Hi,” a voice said, as Troy lifted his head and kissed my shoulder. His waking interrupted the zero-to-sixty acceleration of swirling thought that my mind typically used to jump-start my day.
“Good morning,” I uttered, my voice dry and still sleepy. I kissed his cheek. “Make you breakfast?”
“I think I’m starving,” he laughed.
Basic eggs and toast was simple, but it was actually one of the meals I made better than most others. I had devoted considerable effort to perfecting sunny-side-up eggs with a lidded pan and steam, and always had butter out on the countertop, so it would be soft enough for spreading on toast.
Troy watched as I prepped breakfast. “Um, I uh…,” he hesitated.
I turned around. He had a nervous look on his face. “What’s up?”
“Well,” he faltered, “I think I… said something I shouldn’t have.”
Pondering for a second, I replied, “I can’t think of something that stands out to me…?” I had a hunch, but I didn’t want him to think I had thought about it.
He laughed nervously. “I used the L-word. I… I’m sorry if that was weird but-”
“Oh, that,” I chuckled. Inside me another deep ache had formed, and I replayed his voice in my mind, crying out as he had left his mark deep within me. I didn’t want to tell him it had an effect fairly opposite to the one he was worried about. Instead of freaking me out, it just kept playing over and over in my head, and I didn’t want it to stop. “People say all kinds of things in the heat of passion. Sometimes they make no sense or kill the mood. I would hardly fault you for stuff said in the moment.” I shrugged.
His nervous expression broke into a brief smile. He looked down, then back up at me, biting his lip slightly. His gaze suggested he needed more than I had just given him, and it made me feel naked.
Turning back to the stove, I thought a bit longer. Wasn’t that too dismissive? I decided to be honest, to stop over-thinking, and not to leave him hanging. I just started talking, letting it all out. “But I need to tell you, Troy… I’m still pretty crazy inside, but I think I’m clear-headed now. Nobody’s ever made me feel like that… ever. Not just at the end… like, all night long. I mean, was that a date? I dunno, I don’t remember having more fun or feeling more like-”
Arms closed around my waist from behind and tightened, and lips softly pressed into the back of my neck, ending my verbal streaming.
“See, I can say too much, too,” I said, sighing. “Sometimes I’m real good at it.”
Troy turned me around and kissed me deeply, then looked me in the eyes. His smile had returned. “It’s nice to know I’m not feeling all those same things alone.”
I clasped his head in my hands, twining his beautiful brown locks amongst my fingers. We made out sweetly, until the eggs were definitely overcooked. I had plenty more in the fridge, though.
– – – – – – –
for P.