Page 123 of Bobby Green
Pleasure flowered in Reg’s gut like a betrayal, but he couldn’t stop it. Warmth, joy—all the things he and Bobby had been to each other in the last four months washed over him, rinsing away the desperation. He lay, facedown, ass up, while his entire body shuddered, loosened, relaxed in release, and Bobby pumped, hot and full, inside him.
Bobby draped over his back until his knees gave way, and he sprawled, legs open, come running down his balls. Bobby stayed on top of him, pressed him into the mattress, limp as a come rag.
Their breathing evened out. “I’m sorry,” Bobby breathed. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do this for you. I wish I could make these decisions. I wish I could fix this inside you. All I can do is just be here. Be whatever you want. It’s all I can do.”
“Love me,” Reg begged. “Love me.”
“I already do.” Confused.
But Reg had no words for the fear, the emptiness of the pieces of his heart. “Love me,” he whispered again. “Just love me.”
Bobby pulled his hair back from his temples and kissed his ears. These were things he’d never thought of doing in bed, not until Bobby. These were love things. It was the only way he knew the word at all.
The Blindside
BOBBY HUDDLEDin the back of the hospital room as the rest of the Johnnies gang fawned over the baby boy cradled in Tommy Callahan’s arms.
Yeah, kid was cute, Bobby wouldn’t argue. Reg stood next to him, happy, involved, taking part in the banter, but for once Bobby was aware, painfully, that they weren’t touching.
In this room, with these people, it should have been natural.
But the week after V had gotten home, she actually caught them kissing in the kitchen, and the peals of her raucous laughter still rang in his ears. Men. Kissing. She thought it was hilarious now.
On the one hand, he was glad she wasn’t launching after him with a piece of crockery, but on the other?
He and Reg couldn’t touch in Reg’s home unless they were in the bedroom, alone.
They couldn’t touch in public because neither of them was comfortable with that in public. They could touch in Bobby’s apartment, but Reg couldn’t spend the night there. Their entire lives were boiled down to the moments they were alone in the dark of Reg’s bedroom.
Bobby saw that happy family and wanted to take Reg’s hand so bad, his stomach ached with it. Reg said, “Oh yeah, my sister has lots of these things. You need to support the head,” and Bobby had a sudden vision of him, heartbreakingly young, holding the absent Queenie’s child. Knowing Reg—hell, seeing the dynamic between him and V—he’d probably been responsible for those kids too.
All that responsibility for oh, so long.
Bobby could see him fray at the edges, the life he’d been leading coming into direct conflict with the life he realized he wanted, and Bobby could do nothing.
When Reg had a meeting with John later that week and came home glowing with the promise of being able to do something else, anything else at Johnnies, Bobby almost cried.
“So you’ll be….”
“Going to shows,” Reg crowed, hopping on both feet while Bobby dug out the old planters in the front lawn. Bobby handed him a spare shovel so he’d have something to do.
“Like movies?” Because Bobby had already seen a lot of porn—more than he’d ever dreamed of, as a matter of fact. He really didn’t want to watch his friends fuck anymore.
“No, like, say there’s a celebrity night at Gatsby’s Nick—that dance place you took me to.”
Bobby smiled. That had been a good night, Reg bouncing around like a cork in the wake of the music. They’d touched then, in public, and the sky hadn’t fallen over their heads.
“Okay, so you’d be the celebrity?”
Reg wrinkled his nose. “No.Youwould, or Lance, or any of the new guys. And we’d bring posters and shit, and the guys would sign them and give away DVD collections. So apparently the front desk gets, like, calls asking for guys to come out, and usually it’s been Kelsey calling ‘Hey, any goober wanna do a thing?’ around the office, first come first serve. But they’re gonna give me my own phone line in the corner of Dex’s office, and I’m going to book events and go there with the guys and make sure everyone treats ’em right and, you know. I mean, if the guys wanna sell ass that night, that’s up to them, but if someone wants to buy and they’re just there to sign? I mean, we’re all built, but I get to be in charge of saying ‘don’t touch that.’ And they want to advertise online, so I get to surf websites and see who advertises porn and how much it costs and shit. I mean, John’s gonna teach me, and so is Dex, and mostly I’ll just pick up the slack for them, but….” He bit his lip, and for the first time since V had come home the month before, Bobby felt something besides soul-sucking anxiety from him.
“It’s new,” Bobby said, smiling with encouragement. “It’s new, and you’re… you’re free. You don’t have to do scenes anymore.”
The smile that washed over Reg’s face, the relief that washed over his body—oh God, it let Bobby breathe again.
“I was having a really hard time getting it up,” Reg confessed quietly, like this was shameful. “Bobby, I’m sorry—the only guy I wanna bone is you.”
Bobby laughed, setting down his shovel and walking in to hug him, public or not. Reg dropped his shovel too, and for a moment, the two of them stood in the hot May sunshine, sweaty and happy, holding each other like lovers, like the whole world could see.