Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Chapter Ten
Ryan
Beat the Clock night happened a couple of days ago, and I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about it. Getting down on my knees for Jay was one of the absolute hottest things I’d ever done, and I wanted to do it again.
We didn’t end up fooling around that night. We both got really drunk and completely passed the fuck out the second we got back to the dorm. And the next few days were a bit of an awkward dance as we tried to navigate things while we were completely sober. I’d brought it up—quite a few times—and he would get all flushed and bumbly as soon as I said it. I loved it. Loved how hard he made me and how hard I knew he’d get. I kept waking up with morning wood that wet my sheets with all the precum from my dreams of playing with Jay.
Jay sat at his desk, the cap of his pen in his mouth. He kept whispering to himself, moving his hands and tapping his feet. It was late in the afternoon. We’d both had lunch, separately, and found ourselves with an empty schedule for the rest of the day. I decided to spend it playing video games, although I secretly wanted to spend it naked with Jay.
“Are you silently rehearsing over there?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the TV screen as my character got smacked with a firebolt.
“Are you silently creeping on me over there?”
“Maybe,” I answered with a smirk. “You know you don’t have to be quiet. You can, like, move around and shit. I won’t mind.”
“Thank you for your permission, Dad.”
I looked away from my video game for that. “I prefer the title ‘Daddy.’” Even saying it made my cock twitch. I wore a soft pair of gray shorts and nothing else, so if I got a boner, there’d be no hiding it.
I shot a quick glance at Jay. Was he blushing?
“Fine.” Jay got up from his chair, setting his script down. “But don’t judge me. I still have steps I need to get down.”
“You’re forgetting something already,” I said with a slight smolder in my voice.
“Daddy,” he added, his tone a little seductive. He was definitely blushing. Was he playing with me? I wanted him to say it again except louder, more high-pitched, more needy.
I put my phone down on the nightstand and sat back on my bed, propping some pillows up behind me. Jay took center stage and started from the top.
“What characters am I playing?” I asked.
“All of them besides Julius.”
“Oh,” I said. I looked down at the chunks of text. “Ok, I’ve got this.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not the one that has to go off-book.”
“True, true.”
“Alright, ready?” Jay asked.
“Let’s do this.”
Jay immediately fell into character, which was apparently someone from the Roaring Twenties, judging by the accent he threw on. His body movements changed. He moved around the tiny dorm with a little more heft to him. I could instantly tell his character was older, larger.
We ran through the script a couple of times, and I was about to suggest taking it from the top again when Jay said he needed a break. He sat down in his chair, the script rolled up in his hand. He leaned back. The chair rocked back with him. He seemed to have forgotten it leaned because he jerked forward with a frightened expression.
“I always forget too,” I said, sitting at the foot of my bed. “Scares the fuck out of me every time.”
“Felt like I was falling.”
Same.
“Thanks for helping me get these lines down. I didn’t realize you were such a thespian.”
“No, I’m gay.”
“Ha. Ha,” he said dryly before the mask fell, and he started to crack up at my dad joke.
“Have you always wanted to be in plays?” I asked when the laughter died down. Jay interested me in so many different ways. He was a puzzle I wanted to piece together until the entire rainbowscape of his soul was on display for me. And I could tell he wasn’t as guarded right now.
“Yeah, I was a theater geek from the second I popped out the womb. I probably came out doing jazz hands and singing a show tune.”
I laughed, watched as he grabbed his phone from out of his black shorts. They were high up his thighs, showing off those miles of legs. He got up from his chair and came over to my bed. “Here, look at me in fourth grade.” He sat down next to me, the cheap mattress sinking so that we were sort of pushed together.
Damn. Even the furniture wanted us to fuck.
The image he pulled up was a photo of another photo, showing him as a starry-eyed ten-year old standing at the center of the stage with the spotlight beaming down on him. He had his arms open and the biggest smile on his face, wearing a Peter Pan costume, the fake sword comically too big for his tiny frame.