Beauty & The Jock - Part 7

Everyone in this story is 18+

I woke to the soft tug of hoodie strings against my cheek, a gentle, rhythmic pull that felt like a kitten playing with yarn. My eyes fluttered open, and there was Kyle, propped on one elbow, his face inches from mine, twirling the strings with a lazy grin. I was half-draped over him, my chest pressed against his side, one leg tangled with his under the rumpled sheets. His room was bathed in morning light, the curtains doing a terrible job of blocking the sun.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, dropping the strings like he’d been caught stealing. “I’ll move.”

I blinked, my brain still fuzzy from sleep and the weight of last night. “Nah, you’re fine,” I mumbled, shifting slightly but not pulling away. His warmth was too comfortable, his skin still carrying a faint trace of eucalyptus from the massage. “I barely weigh anything, right?”

He laughed, soft and low, his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, you’re like a feather. But, uh, I wanna try something. If it’s okay?”

I propped myself up, heart kicking up a notch. “Uh, okay?”

He didn’t hesitate. His hand slid under the blanket, fingers brushing over the front of my pants, slowly feeling out at first, then bolder, cupping the growing bulge with a gentle squeeze. My breath caught, a flush creeping up my neck. I was smaller than him, and the thought made me squirm, a flicker of embarrassment tightening my chest as his hand worked with quiet confidence, tracing the outline through the fabric.

“You sure about this?” I asked, voice barely steady, my hips shifting instinctively toward his touch.

He grinned, his fingers popping the button on my jeans, tugging the zipper down with a slow rasp. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He freed me from the confines of my jeans, his hand wrapping around me, warm and firm. I wasn’t as big as him, but the way his eyes widened, taking me in with a kind of reverent curiosity, made my embarrassment dissolve. His thumb brushed over the tip, already slick, and he stroked slowly, his grip steady but exploratory, like he was figuring me out. The sensation was sharp, almost overwhelming, warmth pooling low in my balls as his hand moved, slick and smooth, the rhythm building with each pass.

He shifted suddenly, rolling us so I was on my back, the mattress creaking under his weight. He hovered over me, his hair falling into his eyes, and then he lowered himself, his breath warm against my skin as his lips closed around me. It was clumsy at first, unpracticed, his tongue awkward but eager, swirling over the head before taking me deeper. The heat of his mouth was dizzying, wet and soft, and I gripped the sheets, my hips twitching upward. His hands steadied my thighs, fingers digging in just enough to anchor me, and he found a rhythm, sloppy but earnest, his lips sliding along me with growing confidence.

The room was quiet except for the wet sounds of his mouth, the air thick with the scent of his sweat and my own. My fingers found his hair, not guiding, just holding, and I let myself sink into the sensation, the warmth, the way his tongue flicked just right. It built fast, too fast, and I gasped, my body tensing as the wave hit, unloading into his mouth with a rush that left me trembling, my vision blurring at the edges.

He pulled back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, a grin spreading across his face. “Not bad, right?”

I laughed, breathless, still reeling. “Not bad at all.”

He leaned in, kissing me softly, his lips warm and slightly salty, the taste of me lingering between us. I was still catching my breath when he pulled back, his eyes bright with mischief. “It really doesn’t taste that bad,” he said, smirking, and I laughed again, shoving his shoulder lightly.

We were still chuckling, wiping down with a spare towel from his desk, when the sound of gravel crunching under tires cut through the room. A car door slammed outside. My heart lurched, and I scrambled to zip up my jeans, my hands fumbling. “Shit, is that your dad?”

Kyle, infuriatingly calm, just shrugged, pulling on his sweats. “Yeah, probably. Wanna meet him?”

I froze, half-standing, my hoodie bunched in my hands. “What?”

He grinned, already heading for the door. “Your call. I’m gonna go say hi. You can take the side door down the stairs if you don’t feel like meeting him yet.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, kissing me quick and firm, his lips lingering just long enough to make my head spin. “Thanks for a great weekend anyway,” he said, his voice soft, and then he was gone, bounding down the stairs like it was no big deal.

I stood there, stunned, my pulse still racing. The side door was tempting, a clean escape to avoid whatever awkwardness awaited. But something in his casual confidence, that easy kiss, made me want to stay. I tugged on my hoodie, ran a hand through my hair, and followed him downstairs, my stomach knotting with every step.

In the kitchen, Kyle was already greeting his dad, a bald, broad-shouldered guy in a flannel shirt, who turned out to be Mr. Reynolds, Tom, as he insisted I call him. Next to him was a smaller man, maybe in his thirties, with a bright smile and a slight lisp, introduced as Matty, Tom’s boyfriend. Matty was very clearly gay, like  gay-gay, his gestures animated, his voice warm as he shook my hand and said, “Oh, you must be Aaron! Kyle’s been going on about you.”

I blinked, thrown, glancing at Kyle, who just smirked like he could read my mind. Tom clapped Kyle on the shoulder, chuckling. “This one’s been talking our ears off about his ‘good friend’ Aaron,” he said, winking at Kyle, who didn’t even blush, just grinned wider.

“Guilty,” Kyle said, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking to me with that same mischievous glint.

Tom and Matty moved to the stove, pulling out eggs and bacon, the kitchen filling with the sizzle and smell of breakfast. Matty chatted about their weekend trip, his voice lilting as he described a farmers’ market they’d stumbled across, while Tom nodded along, flipping bacon with practiced ease. I sat at the counter, still processing, trying to act normal despite the surreal feeling of being here, in Kyle’s kitchen, with his dad and his dad’s boyfriend.

Over breakfast, the conversation turned to college. I mentioned I was leaning toward a program in L.A., for dermatology and aesthetics. Kyle’s eyes flicked up, surprised, but he didn’t say anything. Tom nodded, cracking another egg into the pan. “Kyle’s got his heart set on Alabama, don’t you? Big football program.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, poking at his bacon. “SEC stuff. Full ride.”

Tom set a plate in front of me, his smile warm but thoughtful. “When I was your age, I had it all planned out. Marry the girl I loved, have kids, the whole deal. Worked out for a while,” he said, ruffling Kyle’s hair. “Got this guy, and I’m damn happy about that. But me and his mom, we drifted. Circumstances changed. I always felt like something was missing.”

Matty grinned, leaning into Tom’s shoulder. “Spoiler alert, it was dick!”

We all laughed, the tension breaking, even Kyle snorting into his juice. Tom shook his head, but his eyes were soft as he looked at Matty. “If you wanna be crude, sure. But it wasn’t just that. I loved Kyle’s mom, but in a different way. With Matty, I just knew. He’s the one.”

They kissed, quick and unselfconscious, and I glanced at Kyle, his expression unreadable but soft. Tom continued, his voice steady. “What I’m saying is, plans change. Sometimes scrapping the original plan isn’t such a bad thing.”

The words landed heavy, stirring something in me. L.A. Alabama. The distance still loomed, but Tom’s words made it feel less like a wall, more like a road with turns I couldn’t see yet. Kyle’s public indifference at the party still stung slightly, the way he’d slipped into his jock armor, but this, his family, his openness here, made it complicated. I’d tangled things up with him, and maybe that wasn’t a mistake, or?.

Kyle caught my eye, his smirk softening into something warmer. “You sticking around for seconds?” he asked, nudging my plate.

I nodded, my chest tight with something new, something fragile. “Yeah. I’m not going anywhere yet.”

As we ate, the kitchen filled with laughter and the clink of forks, Matty teasing Tom about his cooking, Kyle stealing bacon off my plate. For now, it was just us, the morning light spilling through the window.