Jock Auction by Alex Pendragon Read Free Book Online Page B

on just a few days before, but when it came down to it, I 36|ALEX PENDRAGON
    liked girls. Girls, not guys. So why was the thought of Craig, crouched on all fours with my length lodged fully in his throat, making me so achingly hard? And why couldn’t I stop staring at Louis’s dick?
    “I don’t know why,” I started to tell him, but he rolled his eyes at me, nudged me in the arm with his shoulder playfully. Considering Louis was never, ever tactile, it was the closest I think I’d ever been to him. He grinned.
    “Whatever, dude, it’s gotta be good if the anatomy is so happy, am I right?” And
    then, throwing a quick glance around the showers, he reached down and flicked a
    finger across my cock, setting it bouncing and bobbing in front of me. Then he cracked up laughing.
    Nobody had seen us, I knew that, but I couldn’t get the thought of him out of my
    head while I was getting dressed, having turned half prune under the water waiting for the rest of the shower to clear. I even considered putting my jock back on, since it might at least keep my unruly dick in check, something my usual boxers were basically failing to do. I buttoned up my jeans, trying my best to trap my cock up and across my hip.

    * * * *
I only saw Craig once that week, walking past him in the corridors between
    classes. It was Thursday by then, and I’d finally managed to get my groin under control, mainly by jerking off twice a day—okay, sometimes three times—and otherwise trying to avoid thinking of anything more sexually provocative than cold oatmeal.
    I’d forgotten quite how stick thin he was, how he picked clothes that emphasized
    that. The skinny jeans and the tight black T-shirts and the narrow black sneakers. I spotted him sidling down the corridor from afar, but before we closed the gap, I saw him get shoved, hard, against the wall. A pained wince flashed across his face just for a second before the disaffected mask clamped down again.
    “Fuck you, faggot,” I heard someone spit. It didn’t take much to guess—and
    visually confirm—that it was Jeff doing the pushing and the cussing. He had his fist JOCK AUCTION | 37
    bunched up in Craig’s shirt and the other hand raised in the unmistakable I’m-gonna-pound-your-face gesture.
    I quickened my step until I was right next to Jeff. I could see Craig looking at me, fearfully, out the corner of his eye. His face was ghostly white with what looked like little more than a couple of chips of color across each cheekbone.
    “What the hell, dude?” I demanded. Jeff snorted through his nose.
    “Shady little faggot was looking at me,” he sneered. “Obviously needs a real man
    to fuck him up.” I suppressed a shudder at his language.
    “For fuck’s sake, Jeff, put the guy down.” He made no move to do so. “Look, if
    you mess him up, I’m not gonna get paid for the auction and Coach is gonna be pissed at both of us.”
    Jeff looked over at me after that, though his fingers still kept a tight grip on the front of Craig’s shirt. I knew Craig was looking at me too, but I made sure to keep my expression neutral, my gaze fixed on Jeff and nobody else.
    Jeff squinted, mistrustful. “I though you said you’d done all that shit last
    weekend?” he asked me, shaking Craig by the chest as if to emphasize what he was
    talking about. I steeled myself, both for the lie and what I suddenly realized I was about to admit to Craig, even if nobody else around would get the significance.
    “I’ve got another weekend of it, dude,” I told Jeff, purposefully being as vague as I could. “No work, no charity cash, no starting position in the next game, right?”
    I could practically see Jeff’s brain clicking through the possibilities and potential outcomes and presumably concluding—just as I’d hoped—that I was needed on the
    team. He let go of Craig’s chest with a push, sending his head ricocheting off the plaster.
    “Little fag should watch where he’s looking,” he said with