Ian and Wes Pt. 01

Fuck yeah!

"Yeah! Nice play, Ian!"

I'd recognize that sound anywhere but I turned my head to the stands in record speed just to make sure. Sure enough, Wes was grinning at me, cheering my name.

I smiled back so wide my cheeks were burning. I gave him a thumbs up then got my head back in the game.

My confidence was soaring by the end of the game. I had a part in a few more solid plays and we ended up winning the match, 3-1.

My teammates and I were exchanging high fives and fist bumps left and right. I knew I played well that day, but it was honestly the natural chemistry of the team that helped us most. The guys this year were all really strong.

I pulled off my jersey back in the locker room, listening to Kevin retell for the millionth time all about the goal he scored during the game. Somehow the story changed slightly with each iteration. The version he was telling now involved the opposing team's goalie crying and throwing himself on the ground, overcome by Kevin's talent. I couldn't help the loud guffaw that busted from my chest. I had to respect his active imagination.

"Hey man. You guys did awesome out there today. Just wanted to say congrats."

It was probably my generally amazing mood or pride in my team's showing, but this time I somehow wasn't shaken when I heard Wes.

"Thanks! This is a really solid group. Thanks for coming out," I said warmly.

"Yeah, it shows. I enjoyed myself. Lots to see..." He trailed off for just a second or two as his eyes quickly ran down my bare chest. "Anyway, see you around?"

"Sure thing!" I chirped.

He was already walking away when it hit me. Wait, was he checking me out?

I brushed off the thought. Wes had given me absolutely no reason to think he was interested in me (or any other guy) that way. I knew I was simply projecting my own sexual interest on him. He was straight as could be.

Wasn't he?

***

The next day Mrs. Smith announced in AP Bio that we'd be paired up for projects about the parts of the cell. There was a collective groan. Everyone knows group projects are the absolute worst. One person always ends up doing all the work but only getting half the credit. Mrs. Smith made a snappy comment about "preparing us for adult life" and continued on explaining the assignment.

"I've already assigned your partners." More groans. "Too much to ask to reach outside of your established social comfort zones?" She asked the rhetorical question with a sarcastic sweetness.

Mrs. Smith went through the list of names but I honestly didn't pay attention until I heard, "Ian and... ah, Wes."

I glanced back at Wes. He smirked and winked at me.

I didn't need a mirror to know I was blushing hard. I faked a couple coughs to try and rescue myself from the situation.

Ok, on one had this is fucking fantastic. On the other hand, how the hell am I supposed to keep my cool? Do I even have any "cool" to keep at this point? (I'm choosing not to answer that one.)

The students shuffled around the room, reorganizing to allow for partner discussions about the new project. Wes sat planted in his seat. He made absolutely no effort to move. In fact, he spread his legs wider in his chair, taking up as much space as he damn well pleased.

I'm convinced confidence, even cockiness, is the most powerful aphrodisiac known to man.

I tucked my books under one arm and walked to the back of the room. I pointed to an empty chair next to the mountain of a man with my eyebrows raised, a silent question. Wes nodded and I sat.

"So what do you think we should do?" He asked, running a hand through his perfectly messy shiny dark hair. Today he wore a tight t-shirt bearing the school's name and mascot. Gray sweatpants were tight enough through the legs to show off his powerful thighs.

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware that I was gawking. "Uh... Well... Everyone loves food, right? What if we made a model out of food? Each part of the cell would be a different edible thing. Like Rice Krispy Treats and other stuff?" Wow, even I was surprised to hear that'd I'd apparently formed a coherent idea.

Wes lowered his eyebrows for a moment before grinning at me, "Yeah. That's actually a great idea. Let's do that."

The corners of my mouth tugged upwards from the validation. I decided to push my luck a little more, "Awesome. Ok. So, when do you wanna get together and do it?" (Lord help me, the double entendre was completely unconscious) "Tonight?"

Wes shook his head no and I cast my eyes down at the rejection. "Sorry, I can't. I would, but I've got a game." He gestured to his shirt. Of course. What were Friday nights for if not high school football games?

I chuckled lightly in my embarrassment, "Oh yeah. Duh."

"Tomorrow works though. We can go to the grocery store together then head back to my place to start putting it together, cool?"

I nodded, too nervous to speak.

"And Ian?" I looked up into his eyes. They sparkled with boyish playfulness. I couldn't help but hold his gaze. "You coming to the game tonight? I'd really like to hear you cheering for me." He leaned in to me just the smallest amount. But enough for me to notice.

"Wouldn't miss it," I breathed.

"Good," he said simply as he grabbed my cell phone from the top of my stack of books. He started typing and I heard another phone buzz. "There. Now we have each other's numbers."

"For the project," I finished for him.

His deep chuckle felt like velvet running over my skin. "Yeah, sure..." He paused then opened his plump lips to speak again.

Just as the godforsaken bell rang.

He laughed again, "See you at the game."

Guess I had plans tonight after all.

***

The thing about my friends is they're actually all relatively good looking, but they're also all very desperate.

I know, I know. Who the hell am I to call anyone desperate, especially since Wesley Houston moved back to town. Still though. They are desperate. Takes one to know one, I guess.

The four of us met up at the football stadium and it was probably less than five minutes before two of them peeled off to try and talk to a group of junior girls. The other was gone after maybe 5 more minutes when a senior girl cast a shy smile in his direction.

And that's how I ended up in the bleachers alone watching Wes kick ass on the offensive line.

He really was something. His raw power radiated off the field and right into my body. Everything from the way he stood confidently with his hands on his hips on the sidelines to his impressive blocks during play. The guy was all muscle.

As the team filed off the field for halftime, I caught Wes's eye and he winked at me. I couldn't contain my toothy grin even if I wanted to.

Though Kevin and Steve had apparently been striking out with the ladies, Jared on the other hand was lip locked with a junior that I think was in the musical theater crowd. Good for him. At least someone's getting some action.

Not to return empty handed, the other two presented me with a bottle of water.

"Thanks guys, my throats getting a little sore from all the cheering and yelling. Its actually a pretty close game," Kevin and Steve exchanged mischievous looks but didn't say anything as I opened the bottle and took a giant swing.

Nope. Definitely not water.

"AGH Jesus guys, what the fuck?" To be fair I probably should have seen that one coming. "Vodka?"

Steve doubled over in laughter and I noticed that both of them seemed well on their way to tipsy. Kevin leaned in close to my ear. I'm sure he thought he was whispering but he increased his volume, "Better, bro. Everclear!"

I had to hand it to them, they really outdid themselves this time. I clapped Kevin on the back.

What's that phrase, in for a penny, in for a pound?

I took another swig of the alcohol.

I may not have paid as close attention to the second half of the game, but I sure as hell had a much better time. The three of us whooped and hollered over nearly every play. I even let loose enough to allow myself to cheer for Wes by name. Thankfully I had enough sound judgment left to not say anything that gave away my crush, but it was clear who I was there to support.

Now, we don't drink often. Between the three of us, we didn't even finish the regular-sized water bottle of grain alcohol. Each of us was certainly a cheap date. I was feeling mighty warm and courageous by the end of the game. So were the other two knuckleheads.

At Kevin's insistence, we stumbled over near the locker room entrance. Usually some girls liked to linger over there in the hopes of roping one of the football stars as they exited the building. Kevin was pretty sure he'd have a good shot at intercepting at least one of them once they experienced his "devastating charm"... Yeah, I'm sure someone would end up devastated alright. And it probably wouldn't be the women.

I was humming to myself off to the side, half dancing, half falling over in my drunken state when I heard a wolf whistle. I broke from my reverie to lay eyes on a freshly showered Wesley Houston.

"Don't let me stop you," he called over as I stopped my dancing.

The liquid courage flowed through my veins, "Well, well, well. If it isn't the football star! Football stud! Wesssleeeyyy."

I can't get myself to put 2 words together in front of him while sober. Well, I guess I'm a regular Chatty Cathy after some Everclear.

"You're drunk," He said simply.

"Psssssh, YOU'RE drunk," I retorted. I know, real Einstein-level banter.

He bounded up to me and grabbed my arm much rougher than I was expecting, "C'mon, let's get you home."

"Wha-- but...the guys....." Reading my mind, Steve waved to me as he oversaw Kevin striking out with a potential hookup for likely the fourth time that night. Steve flicked his wrist at me, indicating I should go. I waved back with a sympathetic shrug.

"So you seem like you had fun," Wes stated with amusement as he dropped his athletic bag into the back of a tan Jeep Wrangler.

"Yeah man!" I responded to him through the bars of the Jeep, approaching the passenger door, "It was a pretty good time even before the drinking. I was getting pretty into it, for real. You're like.... really good."

Wes chuckled and hopped into the drivers seat. Before I could open it myself, he reached across and opened my door from the inside. "Thanks," he said softly, "I think I like this drunk Ian."

That was the funniest thing I'd heard all day. "Yeah? Why's that?" I laughed.

"He just seems very honest," Wes replied, turning the key and bringing the loud engine to life.

I decided to take the comment as a friendly diss. I was honest with everyone. Sort of. Sometimes. "Pssshhh. Well, we can't all walk around with Big Dick Energy 24/7."

"Oh? What's your dick energy like then?" He stared at me pointedly. He stopped moving mid-gear shifting, waiting for my reply.

I couldn't help it, drunk me started giggling at the absurdity of this conversation. Talking about my dick with the man who's image had provoked more orgasms than I could even begin to count over the last few weeks. So I said the ballsy-est thing I could think of. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Wes continued to eye me levelly. I could've sworn his gaze darkened, but it could've just been the terrible lighting in the parking lot. Eventually, he turned towards the windshield and pulled out of the parking space. He added with a touch of playfulness in his voice, "By the way... As for my 'Big Dick Energy'... I can't help the... endowments ... I was blessed with."

It was at this moment that 2 things occurred to me: 1) Wesley Houston definitely has a huge penis, and 2) for some reason, Wesley Houston wants me to know he has a huge penis.

Interesting...

I really, really wanted to see where this conversation would go.

"I'm sure you've got people lined up to worship at the altar of your... Endowments."

He let out a rough laugh, "Sure, sure. Haven't taken any of them up on the offers yet though..." He shot me a sideways glance.

It was my turn to laugh, "Yeah, me either."

We hit a red light and he turned to me with a hard look, "Good."

I shivered.

God, he was so hot. I scanned over his chiseled jaw and perfect shadow of stubble. His eyes dropped to my mouth and I automatically licked my lips. I swear I heard a groan.

I cleared my throat and realized he probably didn't know my address. I blurted out some quick directions and tried to stifle the heat that was growing in my belly. This heat had nothing to do with the Everclear.

My mind was reeling from the contents of the conversation but drunk me just couldn't handle the silence. I cleared my throat again. "So do you like being back so far?" I asked.

Wes chuckled again. Ooh I could listen to that sound all day long. "Really? Small talk? You're ridiculous, Ian. But yes. I'm very glad to be back. Lots of things have changed..."

"Yes, they certainly have..." I muttered quietly to myself as my eyes once again roamed his muscular and broad body. And to think, I remembered him as a skinny unremarkable kid back in freshman year. Whatever he had been doing was working, that's for damn sure.

Wes pulled the Jeep into the driveway of my very modest house. As he put it in Park, he smiled and shook his head, "You're really something else, you know that?"

I tried to laugh it off, "Oh, I don't know anything." I waved my hand in his direction, brushing him off.

Wes grabbed my hand in midair and I was stunned by the sensation. His hand was warm. And strong. His grip was sure. Confident. Masculine. I stared at our joined hands then looked up at him through my eyelashes.

His gaze was full of heat. There was no mistaking it. "I think you do know."

Suddenly I didn't remember exactly what we had been pretending to talk about but I certainly received the message he was sending now.

So I mustered as much energy as I could and ran out of the Jeep and into my house as fast as humanly possible.

***

I woke early the next morning with a pounding headache. In lieu of my normal Saturday morning long run, I popped several ibuprofen, chugged some water, and prayed for death as I drifted back to sleep.

After a few more hours, I groggily rub my eyes, feeling the slightest bit better. I raised from the bed like a marginally refined zombie and tried to pull myself together. Bits and pieces of last night's ride home came to me in waves until finally I managed to come up with as close to the series of events as I could manage.

Hot damn.

I think Wes Houston knows I'm into him. And while I can't be sure he's into me, he's definitely not NOT into me.

Holy shit.

I make my way to the kitchen where I hear my mom and sister talking. I consider going back to my room to wait for them to leave but my stomach growls loudly. Guess I'll have to take what's coming to me.

My mom takes one look at me then starts, "Young man, I don't know what you think you're doing but while you're in MY house..."

Honestly I don't have the energy to keep listening. I could probably write her speech for her at this point. I get it. I fucked up and am underage and visibly hungover.

Doesn't she know they don't give out Pulitzers for these kind of lectures?

To make matters worse, Sarah looks like she just won the lottery. Her satisfied smirk and folded arms are bringing my headache back to full blast.

I turn to the fridge, turning my back on my raging mother. I know what kind of reaction this is going to get so I quickly take a deep breath and begin my mea culpa.

"Mom. I understand why you're upset. I didn't mean to disrespect you, but I can see why you feel that way. I'm sorry. But please know that how I feel right now is the worst punishment of all." I turned back to her, pleading with my eyes for her to just give it a goddamn rest.

She glares daggers at me. "Well it's nothing you don't deserve," she spits out before deciding to move on from the subject.

Thank the lord.

Mom and Sarah chatted away, gossiping about you-know-who who was seen doing you-know-what with so-and-so. I chewed silently, raising my eyebrows in faux shock every few minutes to appease them. I'm not sure why they ever thought I cared about that sort of thing, but I guess its a small price to pay for my mom to stop hounding me for drinking.

My stomach was feeling so much better the more I ate.

I was eyeing up my next bite when I heard Sarah's question, "Where did the Houston's move back from anyway?"

Mom actually looked both ways before beginning her story. As if she might be overheard gossiping in her own kitchen. "California, apparently. Bay area I think. Frank was involved in some tech startup that was supposed to be the next Apple. Until it wasn't. They moved around a bit more then came back here."

This time my eyebrow raise was sincere. That had to have sucked for Wes's dad. I couldn't imagine having to face everyone again after failing at something like that.

"Well I'm happy it worked out that way," Sarah said proudly. I looked that her with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

"What?" She tried to recover, "OK, whatever. That's rude, I get it. But have you seen Wes Houston? Talk about eye candy!"

My mom looked to me for some insight. I sighed, really not wanting to discuss the object of my desire with these two, "The guy from the department store. The one who had you falling all over yourself."

The gentle slap of a tea towel hit the top of my head, a blush obvious on my mom's cheeks. Ooh, she remembered him alright.

Get in line, ladies.

"I actually have to meet up with Wes today for a umm... bio project..."

Sarah let out a laugh, "Yeah, ok. Let's see who's falling all over themselves now."

I rolled my eyes at her but my mom looked at me, her blue eyes heavy with concern, "Be careful, Ian."

It was the same look of worry with a heaping spoonful of pity that she gave me a few years ago when I officially came out to my family. Honestly the initial part of the talk was pretty underwhelming considering she clearly already knew. And had known for years I guess. That didn't stop her from ending the discussion with the most dramatic lecture about how I had to watch myself since everyone in the world wasn't so accepting.

Oh and she told me to make sure I didn't hit on any straight guys for fear of an ass-kicking.

Well I may have fucked that one rule up last night. Though I still couldn't be sure that Wes was totally straight...

An hour or two later I was doing some other homework in my room when I heard my phone buzz.

Wes: Hey, how ya feeling?

I grinned like an idiot.

Me: Not the best but I think the worst of it is over.

Wes: lol how much did you have? You were real tipsy.

Me: Not even that much. Guess I'm a lightweight. (I added the shrug emoji to give some casual flair)

Wes: lol good to know.

My stomach fluttered with wicked ideas of Wes getting me drunk and taking advantage of me.

If only.

Wes: we still on for today? I can pick you up if you want?

Me: Yeah. Works for me. Thanks.

Wes: Cool. Be there in about an hour.

Me: See you then.

Even this mundane conversation was getting me going. Down boy. I had to get through a whole afternoon, and possibly into the evening, with this guy.

What better way to relax than jack off?

I pulled my shorts off and laid back on my bed. I reached down, hands running along the hardness of my abs. I scratched my neatly trimmed blonde pubes along the way to grabbing my dick. I'm not huge by any means, but its serviceable. A respectable 6 inches with moderate girth. I wouldn't be attracting any porn directors, but my dick did its job for me, thank-you-very-much.

My hand swept over the top of the head, wet with precum. I was already ready for him.

Ungh, I groaned with the image of Wes opening those succulent lips around the head of my cock. His mouth would be wet and warm-- I could practically feel it. I reached to my bedside table for lube. I applied a generous amount and went to town, thrusting quickly into my closed palm.