Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The space between them crackled, thick with the ghost of James’s declaration and the raw fact of their nakedness. Robbie stood frozen, his skin humming where James’s fingers had pried his own away. The air felt cool on his exposed flesh, a shocking contrast to the heat flushing his chest and face.
James didn’t look away. His gaze was frank, appraising, but there was none of the clinical judgment Robbie feared. It was more like James was studying a landscape he found interesting. “See?” James repeated, his voice softer. “Nothing to hide.”
Robbie’s hands twitched at his sides, desperate to cover himself. He fought the impulse, focusing instead on the steady, confident look in James’s eyes. A strange, tentative pride began to stir, fragile as a new shoot. He took a shaky breath. “It’s… a lot.”
“It’s just a body,” James shrugged, his own solid form completely at ease. “Yours happens to be fucking nice.”
Robbie barked a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean it,” James insisted, and the simplicity of it disarmed Robbie completely. He didn’t argue. The moment of intense vulnerability passed, but the charge in the room didn’t dissipate; it merely changed frequency.
“You know what we need?” James said, “The hot tub. Dad fired it up this morning. Sun’s out, parents won’t be back for hours. No one to see us. Just us.”
The idea of leaving the room again, even for the backyard, sent a familiar spike of anxiety through Robbie’s gut. But the memory of their walk to the copse—James’s hand in his, the anchor of his presence—softened the edge of the fear. And the thought of sinking into hot, churning water was deeply appealing.
“Okay,” Robbie said, the word a quiet commitment. They padded through the quiet house and out onto the expansive back deck. The hot tub sat nestled in a corner, steam rising into the crisp afternoon air. The view of the ranch from here was postcard-perfect: rolling fields, distant grazing cattle, the purple-hued mountains framing the horizon.
James busied himself at the outdoor fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer. He popped the caps and handed one to Robbie.
“I don’t really drink,” Robbie said, taking the cold bottle hesitantly.
“You don’t have to,” James replied. He climbed into the tub with a satisfied groan, the water sloshing around his waist. “But it’s a Coors. It’s basically water.”
Robbie smiled, set his bottle on the edge, and, after a moment’s internal debate, decided to trust James completely. The moment his foot touched the hot, bubbling water, a sigh escaped him. He lowered himself in opposite James, the jets instantly working on the knots in his lower back.
James raised his bottle. “To the Sunwood Glade.”
Robbie clinked his bottle against James’s and took a cautious sip. The beer was bitter and cold, a contrast to the enveloping heat. He took another, larger swallow. “It’s not terrible.”
“Told you.” James leaned back, closing his eyes, his muscular arms spread along the rim. Water droplets beaded on his chest hair. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the churning jets and the distant call of a crow.
“Thanks,” Robbie said softly. “For before. For… saying that.”
James opened one eye. “Just telling the truth.”
The beer was making Robbie’s head feel pleasantly loose, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the heat of the water. His anxieties softened at the edges. He watched James, this impossibly confident, handsome man who, for reasons utterly baffling, seemed to genuinely like him. A question surfaced, fueled by bravery he didn’t know he had.
“So,” Robbie began, tracing a finger through the foam on the water’s surface. “You go out a lot. On dates. With Kayla, and… others.”
James opened both eyes, a slow smile spreading. “I get around some, yeah.”
“What’s that like?” Robbie asked, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, you don’t have to—”
“Nah, it’s cool.” James took a long pull of his beer. “It’s fun. Sometimes. Kayla’s nice. She’s sharp, funny. Good in the sack.” He said it plainly, without boasting.
Robbie’s face burned, but the beer kept him from retreating. “And… others? You ever see... anyone else?”
James’s gaze fixed on him, sharp and knowing. “Here and there. Less often around here. Town’s small. Why? You offering?”
Robbie spluttered, a jet of water going down the wrong way. He coughed. “No! I mean… I’m just… curious.”
James chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Sometimes it’s great. Sometimes…” he sighed, a genuine note of frustration in it. “Sometimes it’s a fucking hassle.”
“How?”
“This,” James said, gesturing vaguely below the bubbling water. “It’s too much for a lot of ‘em. Not all. But a lot. Like with Kayla last week. We’re getting into it, things are hot, and then… she just stops. Clams up. Says, ‘James, I’m sorry, I can’t.’ Just like that. Too deep, too thick. Kills the mood dead.”
Robbie listened, rapt. He’d never heard anyone talk so openly, so crassly, and yet with such a casual, unembarrassed honesty.
“Had a girl last month,” James continued, swirling his beer. “Sophie. Pretty thing, worked at the diner. We got back to her place, fooled around. She was all over me, begging for it. Then I try to enter her, and she screams. Not a good scream. A ‘holy fuck, stop, you’re splitting me in two’ scream. I'd spent like an hours eating her pussy, but it wasn't enough. Fucking humiliating.”
“Jesus,” Robbie breathed.
“Yeah. And it’s not like I can hide it, you know? It is what it is.” He took another drink. “Some people are better about it. They see it as a challenge. They’re into the… the stretch.” He said the word deliberately, his eyes holding Robbie’s. “Takes a certain kind of person, though. Someone who actually wants it, not just tolerates it.”
The water felt suddenly hotter. Robbie’s skin prickled. He took another gulp of beer, his head swimming. The image was vivid, unavoidable: James, his powerful body moving, his face intense with focus or pleasure, some faceless person beneath him struggling to take him. A dark, twisting ribbon of desire coiled in Robbie’s stomach. He’d touched himself so many nights thinking of that very thing, of that formidable size.
James watched him, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, filled only by the whir of the jets. Then, with a fluid motion, James scooted through the bubbling water to Robbie's side of the tub. He draped a heavy, wet arm around Robbie's shoulders, pulling him in until Robbie's temple rested against the solid muscle. The contact was shocking, grounding.
"What about you?" James asked, his voice a low rumble near Robbie's ear. "What's your history?"
Robbie stared straight ahead at the distant mountains. "There isn't one," he said, the tone implying it should be obvious.
"I don't get out. People don't come to me. I'm not confident enough for apps. So I just..." He trailed off, the admission leaving him deflated.
James’s arm tightened slightly. "So you just… what?"
Robbie shrugged, the movement awkward against James's hold. "I just do it myself," he stated plainly.
A chuckle vibrated through James’s chest. "Yeah. Sometimes that's the best way. I can’t sleep without cracking one off."
Robbie paused, his mind stumbling over the logistics of that. He'd never seen James masturbate before sleep. He felt confused, off-balance, but decided to worry about it later. The heat of the water and the beer made everything feel soft at the edges.
"So, how do you do it?" James pressed. "I'm always open to tips and tricks." He sounded genuinely interested.
"Just the usual," Robbie lied, trying for male banter and failing. "Up and down, you know."
James shifted, turning his head to look down at Robbie's profile. "Are you sure that's all you do? If I had your body, I’d be playing with my nipples and tits like you wouldn't believe." He gave Robbie’s shoulder a small squeeze. "And I don't mean that nastily. You have amazing tits."
Robbie was shocked, but a sharp, pleased thrill shot through him. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "Yeah, yeah I do that. That helps."
"And?" James asked, as if he already knew the rest.
Robbie took a big sigh, the air shuddering out of him. He was worrying this would freak James out, break whatever this was. "Ok, fine," he said, the words pushed out on a wave of forced bravery. "I love playing with my... tits, as you said. And I have some silicone toys to help out when I am in private."
"What you got?" James asked, his voice dropping an octave. "You got some pocket pussies, dildos, cock rings?" He shifted, his submerged hip pressing against Robbie’s. "I always wanted one of those torsos with the boobs and a dick and a pussy and an ass. That seems like a good time to me."
Robbie was shocked at James’s admissions, at the sheer filth of it spoken so openly in the golden afternoon light. "Er, yeah, I have those things. Not the torso, sadly. They look amazing."
"I'll buy us one to share," James said, and before Robbie could process the ‘us,’ James was reaching for his phone on the deck beside the tub. A few taps later, he set it back down. "It’ll be delivered by 8pm tonight. Six hours." He slipped his arm back around Robbie, his hand moving down from Robbie's shoulder to his chest. His thumb found Robbie's nipple beneath the water, giving it a gentle, deliberate squeeze. "Looks like we have a fun evening planned."
Robbie gasped in pleasure then giggled, a nervous, breathy sound, and turned his head to look at James. James was grinning, but there was a heat to his stare that stole the air from Robbie’s lungs.
"God damn if I don't want to kiss you here and now," James growled.
Robbie’s brain short-circuited. "Shut up," he muttered, trying to push away feebly.
James didn't let him. Instead, he pulled him closer and turned Robbie's head with his other hand, his grip firm but not forceful. The bubbling water masked the frantic beating of Robbie's heart. "Do you want me to kiss you, Robbie?" James's mouth was so close Robbie could feel the words as warm puffs against his lips.
Robbie's mind went blank, wiped clean by desire and fear. All he could do was nod, a tiny, desperate movement.
"Good," James said, and closed the distance.
He planted a chaste, closed-mouth kiss on Robbie’s lips. It was soft, brief, a question. He pulled back an inch. "But let's not overwhelm you with this should-be-award-winning tongue. Not just yet." He grinned, a flash of white, and then leaned in again.
This kiss was different. Stronger, wetter. James’s lips parted, and Robbie felt the slick pressure of his tongue tracing the seam of his mouth. Robbie’s own lips fell open on a sigh, and James deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth with a confident, lazy stroke. Robbie returned the kiss, tentatively at first, then with growing hunger, his hand coming up to clutch at James’s wet shoulder.
James pulled away too soon but kept his arm locked around Robbie's shoulders, a possessive anchor. Robbie, dazed, looked down through the churning, crystal-clear water.
James's cock was fully hard, thick and upright, bobbing near the surface. The sight was blatant, undeniable. A fresh wave of heat, unrelated to the tub, flooded Robbie’s veins. He leaned into James, his body softening against the solid strength of him. He felt safe. He felt secure. And, with a dizzying clarity, he felt the thrilling, terrifying knowledge that he was truly, ardently desired.
And, with a dizzying clarity, he felt the thrilling, terrifying knowledge that he was truly, ardently desired.
James broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Robbie’s. Their breath mingled in the steam. “I want to kiss you some more, Robbie,” he murmured, the words vibrating through Robbie’s skin. “But if we start here, it’s gonna get real hot, real fast. And I don’t want to rush you.” He pulled back just enough to look into Robbie’s eyes, his own dark with promise. “So howsabout we go upstairs, get dressed and hang out some on the bed, just doing easy, gentle stuff? Would that be ok with you?”
Robbie nodded excitedly, too scared to breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of yes.
James stood, the water sluicing off his body. His cock was thick and hard and unmissable, a stark declaration against his thigh. He held out his hand for Robbie and helped him to his feet. Robbie’s own cock, so much smaller than James’s, stood equally as proud, a brave, delicate counterpoint. James growled at him, low in his throat. “Stop teasing me, bro, or I’ll have to do something right here.”
Robbie giggled, the sound thin and breathless, although he felt confused. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Men like James didn’t look at him like this, with raw hunger softening their eyes.
They stepped out of the tub, the cool air raising goosebumps on their wet skin. James grabbed two towels from a rack, handing one to Robbie. He didn’t let go of Robbie’s hand, not even to dry himself off. Instead, he led him, dripping, through the sliding door, across the cool tile of the sunroom, and into the shadowed hall of the quiet house. Their footsteps were soft, urgent pads on the hardwood. James’s grip was firm, an unbroken circuit of intention pulling Robbie forward, up the stairs, and into the sanctuary of their bedroom.
Only then did he release Robbie’s hand to grab his towel. They dried off in silence, a hurried, practical act charged with anticipation. Robbie’s skin felt hypersensitive, every pass of the rough cotton sending sparks along his nerves. Both men pulled on loose comfortable clothing—sweatpants and soft t-shirts. James then climbed onto his king-sized bed, propped himself against the headboard, and patted the space beside him. “C’mere.”
Robbie went, his movements slow, as if walking through deep water. James pulled him back into the crook of his arm again, the same position as in the tub but now on the solid landscape of the bed. The denim quilt was cool under Robbie’s legs. James’s body was a furnace of heat beside him.
“You okay with this?” James asked, his voice a rumble Robbie felt through his bones.
Robbie let his head rest against James’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt was soft. “I’m confused,” he admitted, the words spilling out in a whisper. “I’m not used to any attention, let alone from the hottest man I have ever met.”
James chuckled, the sound warm and deep in his chest. “Right back atcha, Robbie.” His fingers began a slow, absent tracing on Robbie’s arm. “I’ve tried to find a guy like you in the past, but there aren’t many of you about. You’re all hiding away.”
“We’re hiding from men like you,” Robbie said, laughing softly against him. “We all think you despise us.”
“So you’re the spokesman for all cute, soft, kissable young men, now, are you?” James joked, his thumb circling Robbie’s bicep.
“Yes, in fact I am,” Robbie said, emboldened by the dark, shared intimacy of the room. “And we demand compensation for the struggles you have put us through.”
“Compensation, is it?” James asked, a smile playing on his lips. He turned his head, his breath warm on Robbie’s temple. “And what would that involve exactly?”
“Oh, just a few hours of hot kissing and light petting should make all parties agreeable,” Robbie responded, his own daring surprising him.
“Well,” James murmured, his voice dropping to a velvet growl. “I like the sound of agreeable.” He shifted, turning onto his side so his face hovered over Robbie’s. The world narrowed to the planes of James’s face, the scar above his eyebrow, the dark fan of his lashes. “Very agreeable.”
He leaned down and slid his thick, wet tongue deep into Robbie’s mouth.
Robbie moaned loudly, the sound swallowed by James. It was not a kiss; it was a claiming. James’s tongue explored with a confident, relentless pressure, mapping the roof of his mouth, the slick inside of his cheeks, tangling with his own. Robbie surrendered to it, his hands coming up to clutch at James’s broad back, fisting in the soft cotton. The taste of him was faintly of beer, of clean skin, of something uniquely male and musky. It was intoxicating.
James pulled back, breathing ragged, a string of saliva connecting their lips for a second before it broke. He grinned, his eyes glazed. “Fuck, your mouth.” Then he dove back in, but this time softer. He nipped at Robbie’s full lower lip, then soothed the sting with his tongue. He peppered tiny, closed-mouth kisses along Robbie’s jawline, his stubble a delicious scratch against sensitive skin. He kissed the corner of his mouth, his eyelid, the pulse point fluttering wildly at his throat.
It was a slow unraveling. They kissed for what felt like hours, the afternoon light fading to a deep blue twilight outside the large window. James would switch from deep, languid explorations where their tongues slid and pushed against each other, to light, fluttering butterfly kisses that made Robbie sigh and arch into him. Their mouths and chins grew wet and glistening with saliva, a slick, shared mess that Robbie found wildly erotic.
James’s hands roamed, but never strayed below the waist. They cupped Robbie’s face, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones. They slid under his t-shirt, palming the soft swell of his stomach, exploring the generous curve of his love handles with a reverence that made Robbie shiver. His big, work-roughened hands found Robbie’s nipples, pinching and rolling them through the thin cotton until they were stiff, aching peaks. Robbie, in turn, learned the landscape of James’s back, the powerful muscles that shifted under his touch, the dusting of hair at the base of his spine where his sweatpants sat low.
Robbie’s lips grew swollen, sensitized. Every brush of James’s goatee, every sweep of his tongue, sent shocks straight to his groin. He was achingly hard, his erection trapped and straining against the confines of his sweats, a persistent, pleading throb. He could feel the matching hardness of James pressed against his hip, a thick, insistent ridge of heat.
Finally, breathless and dizzy, they broke apart. Their foreheads rested together, both panting as if they’d run a race. A slick sheen coated their lips, their chins. Robbie’s entire body hummed, a live wire of need.
“You know,” James said, his voice wrecked and raw, “I am not sure I am going to need any of those dates this week.” He shifted his hips, his hardon pressing unmistakably against Robbie’s. “And maybe we can turn our night time jerk offs into something a bit more reciprocal?” He said it with a cheeky grin on his face, but his eyes were deadly serious.
Robbie’s breath hitched. “You know that I…?”
“Know?” James asked, his grin softening into something more intimate. “I’ve been listening. Having to stay so still while my cock is screaming for attention until you are done.” He leaned in, his lips brushing Robbie’s ear. “I love hearing you sniffing my used briefs, man. The little sounds you make. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
Robbie was both deeply embarrassed and utterly, completely thrilled. The secret was out, and it wasn’t a weapon; it was a bridge. He buried his burning face in James’s neck, inhaling his scent directly from the source. “You’re terrible,” he mumbled.