Page 38 of Bobby Green

Reg wrinkled his nose. “We must watch very different TV,” he said, remembering V’s news program.

Bobby kissed the center of Reg’s palm, and Reg watched him, the small flower of warmth blooming in the center doing nothing bad for his hard-on at all. He didn’t question why Bobby would do that, or how it was different than hooking up, like, say, with Lance or Ethan or any of the other guys. But something near the pit of his balls said it.This is different. Guys who just fuck each other don’t do that. Why doesn’t Bobby know this?

“Yeah, well, your sister watches the scary kind of television,” Bobby admitted. “The guys in the apartment watch sitcoms and action shows and get their stuff off the computer.”

Reg grimaced. “V uses the computer. I don’t. I kept getting bugs and crashing mine, so I sold it, like, years ago. I could barely fill out the application at Johnnies.”

Bobby grunted. “You know, we should get one. Like, go in on it. I could leave it here. We’d learn how to use it so it didn’t get buggy. That could be good.”

Reg whimpered and rubbed himself against the bed. He thought if he saw one shot—just one shot—of two of his friends locked in the middle of something passionate, spewing spunk from their cocks or swallowing or getting fucked so hard their eyes closed and they couldn’t talk—he would probably sympathy-come right now.

“Okay,” he said, thinking more about surfing porn than any good the computer would do. “That could be good. Just… oh, geez… tell me when and where, and I’ll go shop—Bobby, I’m gonna come from that. Isn’t that fucking…weird?”

Bobby took Reg’s first two fingers deep into his mouth, and Reg imagined… just imagined… those pretty eyes looking at him while Bobby’s sweet mouth milked Reg’s cock for everything he had.

His orgasm rolled agonizingly through him. He should have been all sexed out, but still it churned slowly, like his brain cells were awakening in all his nerve endings. The realization that he’d been turned on and brought to climax by this kid just from having his fingers sucked made fireworks erupt all over his body.

His penis actually hurt, and his balls ached by the time he was through.

He lay, still facedown on his bed, panting and gazing at Bobby like he was scary magic man. “That was the damnedest thing,” he breathed. “I woulda… I didn’t think I coulda… how did youdothat?”

Bobby heaved himself across the bed and kissed his cheek. “I got no idea,” he said softly. “But I don’t think either one of us could be all straight for something like that to happen.”

Reg grunted, too tired to even argue. “I thought you had a girlfriend,” he whispered.

“I do,” Bobby whispered back. “This wasn’t… it was like lying in bed with you when you were sick. Feels natural. Like it’s what I should be doing. Doesn’t feel like cheating. Isn’t that weird?”

Yeah. Weird. Reg whimpered. “You’re gonna leave me for your girlfriend,” he explained, like Bobby didn’t know this. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Bobbyhmmed in his throat and pulled his hand through his hair. “Why?” he asked.

“’Cause people don’t leave their girlfriends for people like me,” he said, feeling patient. Bobby was still looking at him, pretty eyes big and full of disbelief. “It’s like nice girls don’t date porn models, and nobody wants to live in this falling-down house with my sister. These things are true.”

“Hunh,” Bobby said. “Does that mean you don’t want me to stay the night?”

“But you’re fixing my bathroom!” Reg said, confused as hell.

“Yeah—but you don’t have to put out for me because I’m fixing the bathroom,” Bobby said, laughing. But wounded. Reg could see that in his eyes. Oh hell.

“No,” he said, reaching out and capturing Bobby’s hand. Ah God, the closeness. This was what he loved about Johnnies—the closeness. The kindness. He’d always paid it back in the coin of sex, but here it was, being offered for free.

He had no currency for that.

“No what?” Bobby asked quietly, squeezing his hand.

“Just… just stay. Talk to me. Be my….” Friend? “I can’t think of the word,” he said disconsolately.

“Companion,” Bobby told him. His voice sounded husky in the dark. “Let’s do companion.”

“Okay. Let’s be companions. I like that.”

“Good.”

Reg closed his eyes then, because it had been a long day and he was still recovering, but he felt it when Bobby inched closer to him, his body massive and muscular and warm. Bobby was the one who pulled the comforter over their shoulders and settled the pillows under their head, and it was Bobby’s breathing that lulled Reg to sleep.

Friends. A companion. Was that really the word Reg wanted?

Lessons in the Interim