A Straight Jock's Hole

Chapter 7

*****

Mo pulled his dick out of the twink, sending scatters of lube across the carpeted floor. He pushed himself up off the twink, using his butt as leverage, but slipped on the slick skin and tumbled onto the floor.

'What is going on back there?' The twink asked, turning his head to look back at Mo.

Mo gathered himself up off the floor and was about to confront Clayton with an explanation, but when he looked to the door, Clayton had already slammed it shut, leaving Mo to his twink.

'Shit, shit, shit,' he repeated over and over.

'Everything ok?' The twink asked. He'd moved from his ass-in-the-air position to lying on his side.

'Where the fuck are my shorts?' Mo ignored the man and started rooting for his clothes in the mess of garments strewn across the floor.

'Hey, are we going to finish or what?-'

'Can you just shut the fuck up for a second?' Mo lost his patience, frustrated with the situation and unable to multitask the twink along with finding his clothes and dealing with Clayton.

'Dude, chill. Is he your boyfriend or something?'

'No, but ...' Mo stopped searching and gazed at the sock in his hand. He left the sentence hanging, knowing how he wanted to finish the sentence, the feeling of deep longing resting on the words unspoken. The atmosphere lay heavy in the silence pressing down in the room.

'I get it,' the twink leaned his head on his palm as he stretched out on the bed. 'Go after him.'

Mo looked up at the twink, seeing him truly as someone he was exchanging a conversation with for the first time, and not just a random dude he was railing. He smiled.

'Your underwear is on your lamp, by the way. It landed there when you threw it off,' the twink pointed across the room.

*

Once dressed, Mo ran out of his room, searching the apartment for Clayton, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He tried the living room, bathroom, and even Clayton's room itself, but they were all empty.

'Shit,' he cursed himself.

He ran to the window to see if he could spot Clayton, but to no avail.

Throwing on his shoes and a jacket, he made his way outside to the street, looking up and down the road amid the pedestrians going about their day and the cars driving along the road.

No sign of Clayton.

He squinted his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar piece of clothing or his recognisable hair or gait of walk. But no luck.

His housemate had disappeared.

A feeling lurched in his stomach. Stodgy and uncomfortable. He'd really fucked up.

Not knowing what to do, he just turned in circles, holding his head.

If only there were a way to set back the clock, go back to before any of this mess had happened so he could do things the right way, not get Jamie involved, and not fuck random guys. Just focus on the one person who was important to him.

But that was fantasyland. And he was living in the mess that was reality.

A passing woman walking her dog glanced at him pondering in the middle of the street, so he made way for them and began his retreat back to his place.

Every step was automatic, his thoughts plagued by the situation and what to do next.

He had to do something. The turmoil in his gut told him.

*

Mo moped around the apartment in a large hoodie and sweatpants. A gloomy day poured down outside. The heavy, dark clouds enveloped the city in a dreary, wet embrace, making everything grey and damp.

It had been days since Clayton had walked in on Mo fucking the twink. After that, Mo had searched the apartment, gone outside to look for him, rang his phone, messaged him on social media, but he didn't want to be found, leaving his calls unanswered and his messages unread.

He hadn't come home that evening, or the next day, or the next. If he had, he'd been quite silent and moved around like a mouse.

But, Mo knew that wasn't true. Clayton's bedroom door had remained open and his stuff untouched. Even his food in the fridge remained unused, the milk turning sour and the fruit going bad. So, he knew his housemate was avoiding him for real.

It only made Mo fret more about Clayton, worrying if he was ok, wondering where he was, losing sleep thinking about how he'd fucked up and how he would fix things.

But, maybe Clayton didn't want things fixed. Maybe he was happy to leave things where they were and opt out of whatever they had become, or whatever they had been before all this.

Now, Mo watched as the rain battered against the windows, the wind whistling through the wet streets.

His stomach grumbled. He hadn't been eating much, not in the mental capacity to think of his nutritional needs or cook for himself, but his body was physically fighting against his depressive state, wishing for him to snap out of his blue reverie.

He made himself a sandwich using bread that was hard and stale, scraping the end of the butter carton for scraps, and using slices of very questionable meat. But, he didn't care. He just needed something to stop his grumbling stomach.

Eating the food, he slouched on the couch, the room silent save his munching. He wasn't even in the mood to throw something on the TV.

As he was chomping on the tough bread, he heard the click-clack of a key turning in the front door, followed by it unlocking.

Mo jumped out of his seat, standing expectantly towards the door.

In came Clayton.

Mo moved to greet him, but his housemate just had his head down and rushed silently towards his room.

'I was worried about you,' Mo croaked, following Clayton. He hadn't realised he'd gone without speaking to someone until just then.

Clayton didn't reply.

'Are you ok?' Mo asked.

Still nothing.

Clayton came to his room and started packing up a bag.

'What's going on?' Mo waited by the door.

'There's nothing to say, Mo,' Clayton spoke for the first time, angrily shoving clothes into a suitcase.

'Where are you going? Talk to me,' he pleaded.

'This isn't working. I'm moving out. I think it's best for both of us.'

'What do you mean?' Mo's stomach lurched, he moved into the room, his hand stretched out, palm upwards.

'This whole messing around with each other stuff has gotten really messy. We should've never done it.'

Mo gulped. He couldn't argue with Clayton's messy assessment, but he didn't have any regrets with them having done anything.

'I have nothing against you or who you screw,' Clayton explained, flustered. 'I just can't be around it anymore.'

Mo's heart sank. It was like a dagger to his heart. 'But I ...' he tried to say, to explain his feelings, but Clayton cut him off.

'Please, let's just leave it,' he zipped up the suitcase. 'I'll be away for a while, but I'll come back for the rest of my stuff.' And with that, he was dragging the suitcase out the door.

Mo watched as Clayton retreated, out of the apartment, the door slamming with a definite bang. There were thoughts spinning throughout his head, words bubbling in his throat, but he was stood stock still, unable to take action as the apartment drew back to its silent surroundings.

He considered going back to his room, slouching back on the couch or returning back to his state of solitude, but a spark went off in his brain, one last resolute decision.

'If I don't do it now, I never will,' he thought to himself. 'I have nothing to lose.'

And with that decision made, he felt his body set into motion. He didn't even remember putting on his shoes, but soon he was staggering out of the apartment, flying around the twists of the stairwell, through the lobby of the apartment block and out onto the streets.

It was really lashing down now, so he threw up his hood and entered the deluge.

He looked up and down the street, squinting through the drops of rain, looking for a man dragging a suitcase.

His eyes tore around until he spotted the bright orange suitcase and ran after Clayton.

'Hey,' he yelled, grabbing his housemate.

Clayton spun around. 'Don't. I'm not interested,' Clayton continued on his trudge through the rain.

'I don't want to screw anyone else,' Mo yelled.

At this Clayton stopped and turned. 'What?' his brow furrowed.

'I ... don't want to be with anyone else,' Mo's heart was beating through his chest. Now or never. He had to say the words he'd never uttered before, to any man straight, gay or otherwise. 'I want ... you,' Mo spoke the words, they were out. Like a sudden thunder crashing down on the city, they were tumultuous, vibrating and dared to be heard.

Clayton took a beat, rain drops cascading down his face. 'But, you were just fucking that other guy a few days ago.'

'I'm an idiot. I was trying to get over you, because you were having fun with other guys and I got jealous,' Mo shouted to be heard over the traffic. 'I've never felt like this before with a guy. I didn't intend on ... developing feelings for you because you're my housemate, but things just started to happen, and it became more than just the sex. Initially, I wanted you to fuck other guys, but then I started wishing you were just with me instead. But, by then it was too late and you'd started exploring with others. I know you don't feel the same, but don't move out, we don't need to fuck anymore, and I won't have guys around. I just ... don't want to lose you,' Mo's voice became small as he professed his true, vulnerable feelings.

Clayton stared at Mo, taking in all his words. Hearing his housemate express the most emotion he'd ever heard from him. He stepped forward, reached out and grabbed the man by his rain soaked hoodie.

The two men looked into each others' eyes, a longing between both, yet they stood so close.

Clayton leaned forward and kissed Mo, pulling the larger man down into a wet, tight embrace.

Mo melted into him, closing his eyes and hugging the shorter man. Not caring about the rain, the wind or onlookers.

When they separated, Mo looked incredulous at Clayton. 'I don't understand...'

'You gay guys are just as bad at communication as straights,' Clayton shook his head, smiling. 'I'll admit, I did fuck around after we started having sex. First with Jamie, then others. I enjoyed some more than others, but for every one of them, I just kept coming back to the same thought.'

'What was that?'

'They weren't as good as you,' Clayton spelt it out plain and simple.

Mo's world titled as he heard the words. 'Really? So what are you saying?'

'I'm saying like you Mo, you idiot,' Clayton pulled Mo in close. 'Not just sex, I enjoy just being with you, hanging out with you, living with you. I think ... I think maybe I'm bi, at least? It's taken some time, but I think I've come round to the idea.'

'Wow. That's amazing, Clayton, congrats,' Mo blinked at the revelation. 'But, I don't get it. You were going to leave?'

'I didn't know you felt this way about me, I saw you fucking another guy, and you're a full-on fuckboy. My only choice was to leave with my feelings intact rather than have my heart broken.'

Mo threw his head back, laughing. 'We're a right pair aren't we?'

'Yes, for sure,' Clayton smiled. 'But I don't care. We both like each other, that's all that matters,' he leaned in and both men embraced again, kissing in the downpour, a heavy weight lifted from both their shoulders.

*

EPILOGUE

Clayton strolled into the living room in all his naked glory.

Mo lounged out on the couch, in a similar state of nudity. 'There he is, my boyfriend,' he smiled at his once-housemate, now romantic partner.

Clayton blushed, looking bashfully at the floor.

Mo laughed. You have no qualms strolling around the place naked, yet when I call you my boyfriend, you get all shy.

'I'm just getting used to it is all, having a boyfriend,' Clayton came over to Mo, giving him a peck on the lips and snuggling up with him on the couch.

'Well you're my sexy bi jock,' Mo hugged him and kissed him on the forehead.

Clayton held onto Mo's big arms that enveloped him and closed his eyes, loving the feel of the embrace and the words Mo spoke. There was a lot to get used to: 'boyfriend'; 'bi'; the romance of it all. But, he felt so windswept in it all, enjoying the new freedom and reality it was bringing.

'Mmmm,' he grumbled. 'You're making me hard with all this romance talk.'

'Oh really? Well I can help with that,' Mo moved his bi jock off him and placed his head in Clayton's crotch, taking the growing erection in his mouth. Usually the one to receive blowjobs, he'd found the romance with Clayton to open his eyes up to more than just being a top, than just being blown, thank just eating ass.

Now, he found his sex life invigorated from the emotional connection he had with Clayton. He'd had his ass eaten and he'd sucked Clayton off. He still hadn't gotten around to bottoming, but they had all the time in the world.

The once strict top now bobbed his head up and down the jock's hardening shaft. He'd placed himself in opposition to Clayton so his own crotch was hovering over the jock's face.

Clayton paid back the favour by taking the large man's cock into his own mouth, blowing him deeply as the shaft went down into his mouth. He licked it, swirling his tongue around the cock head.

The pair sucked each other playfully, moving their heads back and forth while thrusting their hips in the 69 position on the couch.

Moans filled the room as they explored and enjoyed their bodies, feeling their taut muscles and slick, sweaty skin.

Mo felt alive, not like any intimate experience he'd had with anyone else before. The emotional connection he felt with Clayton made it all the more special, like he could trust him openly, with all his emotions and vulnerabilities laid bare. He loved and shared with all his heart open.

Similarly, Clayton felt the emotional connection with Mo. He knew the man he held in his arms and whose dick was in his mouth cared deeply for him. Mo wasn't just using him for a quick, emotionless fuck. He actually looked out for his best interests, helping him with a guiding hand at each step of his journey, at exploring his new identity and sexuality. He felt safe with him.

The two men continued their fun, jostling and caressing one another, kissing in a warm embrace, their lips wet and red from the intensity.

They moved as one, exploring every inch of their bodies: both licking the other's tender neck, planting hot kisses across their chests, nibbling at their hard nipples, burying their faces in each other's armpits, inhaling deeply, eating each other's hole, burying their tongues deep in the other's hole, massaging their feet and licking the toes and soles.

Then the pair reached a heated intensity, knowing they needed to fuck.

Mo took up the post of top as per usual. He'd give bottoming a go one day, but the pair were too riled up for the time of experimentation to be today.

So Mo positioned himself by Clayton's hole, no longer the straight jock hole he'd come to know and love. Now it was a bi jock hole. No, it was his boyfriend's hole, the only hole he wished to enter, to lick, to love.

With tenderness, he moved inside, pressing his hard erection into Clayton's hole.

He looked to Clayton's face now, no longer afraid to look him deep in the eyes, no longer any awkwardness between the exchange of glances. He saw the man who he was fucking as his boyfriend, the man he loved deeply and was unafraid to share his life with, his body with, his emotions with.

And with that Clayton looked back, an openness to his expression now. It was a face filled with pleasure, but also glee, levity and a joyful freedom that had come with knowing himself and being unafraid to just be and share himself with another man, but physically and emotionally. He looked up at the man fucking him, his boyfriend, and felt pleasure flow through him that it was the man who loved him for everything he was. That was the man who was fucking him.

The two men felt one another as they fucked, the familiar physical feelings with the act of fucking only intensified due to their emotional connection.

'I fucking love you baby,' Mo told Clayton, looking down at him as he pulled his dick out and thrust back into the jock's hole, the sound of the rhythmic pattern filling the room.

'Uhhh, I love you too,' Clayton moaned, his brow creased in the pleasure and intensity of bottoming.

They kissed as they fucked, a deep, romantic kiss. They wanted to be one, joined ever closer physically if that were even possible.

Clayton wanted more of Mo inside him, even though the large man's long dick was bottoming out in him, the shaft disappearing into his hole and the bulbous cock head hitting his prostate.

Likewise, Mo just wanted to bury more of his cock in his boyfriend. But, he'd run out of shaft. If he could get his balls inside, or his torso inside or his whole being he would. He just wanted them to be tied together forever.

The intensity grew as they continued their fucking until it reached a head and the two men orgasmed, firing cum out of their cocks and onto one another, marking the other with their cum.

They laughed and fell into a sticky, hot embrace.

Two former housemates, now lovers, partners in crime.

Happy and in love with one another.

THE END

*

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this series and left your wonderful comments and reviews. It's probably one of the more romantic series I've written, which has been quite a treat to see Mo and Clayton grow on the page as I've written their story. I hope you enjoyed the series as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

Talk soon, Henry X