Nick (Sequel to JP)

On the Road


By luvyalots

“Ok, guys, stay together,” Coach Graves ordered as he led the wrestling team down the airport concourse. They had just gotten off the plane in Indianapolis and immediately commanded the attention of everyone there.

“Why is Coach treating us like a bunch of pre-schoolers on a field trip?” Andre whispered to Nick, making sure Graves didn’t hear him.

“I think he wants us to make an impression,” Nick answered with a smile, shifting both his and Brandon’s carry-on bags on his shoulders. “You know, in case any of the other teams see us.” They were certainly impressing all the people at the airport. Everywhere they went, other passengers and airport employees turned their heads as they passed by – nearly two dozen teen athletes ranging from taut and wiry to thick and insanely muscular, all wearing their matching wrestling jackets and pants. It must have been quite a sight. Nick and Andre – by far the two biggest guys on the team – led the informal procession, their huge, bulging muscles straining their clothes, drop-dead gorgeous Brandon following them on his crutches. Peter Evans and Mike Garcia – the 171- and 189-pounders – stayed close behind him like beefy bodyguards and the rest of the team followed suit, their thick necks unmistakably announcing them as the superior wrestlers they were.

This was the great Central High School Spartan Wrestling Team of Fairfax County, Virginia – undefeated, invincible, intimidating. They brought fear into the eyes of other teams and were impossible to conquer. Well, at least that was what Graves would tell them. His coach’s words passed through his head as Nick noticed the reverent looks they got.

“Welcome to Indy, boys,” Brandon proudly announced. “This is a city that knows its wrestling.” Peter chuckled.

“They seem to like us, too,” he commented. Nick caught his teammate’s gaze – a shapely college girl sitting at a nearby bar, her legs crossed in such a way that her entire thigh was visible. She smiled at him and gave him a little wave. “Damn!” Peter gasped and returned her gesture with a cocky thrust of his chin. “Ow!” The other boys laughed as Mike jabbed him in the ribs. “What was that for?”

“What do you think?” the larger boy replied. He gazed over at him, instantly putting Peter back into line. Nick had to smile; Mike was probably the most intimidating guy on the team…for the sole purpose that his voice was incredibly deep and menacing. It sometimes sounded like a train coming at you, especially when he roared. And his dark brown eyes could pierce a hole through your skull in two seconds flat. He would literally have his opponents shaking in their singlets. Of course, it certainly didn’t hurt that he was 5’8”, 189 pounds with 5% body fat. He was thick and second only to Nick in muscularity.

“Dude,” Peter redirected his attention to Brandon in front of him, “you’re lucky your gay. I’m havin’ a hard time keepin’ it down, if you know what I mean.” Brandon shook his head, grinning to himself.

“You obviously didn’t see that cute male flight attendant,” he replied, one eyebrow arcing up suggestively.

“What?” Peter yelped, trying to hold his laughter in so hard, he almost stumbled.

“Boys!” Coach Graves finally turned around. They all immediately quieted down and resumed their march. As the group made their way down to the baggage claim, Nick caught the eye of a teenage girl. He did a double take – she was a dead ringer for Erin. Instantly, he felt a pit in his stomach. God, he missed his girlfriend so much. He forced himself to look away.

“Man, you practically have that chick in an orgasm,” Peter whispered in his ear behind him. Nick snuck one more glance at the girl. Her mouth was open as she stared at him, admired his body from afar. She leaned against the wall in a daze. Peter laughed. “Fuck, man! How do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Nick shrugged, trying not to show what he was really feeling. He feigned cockiness instead. “I get that a lot, girls wanting to worship my muscles.” He smiled, causing Peter to bite his lip and wiggle his eyebrows up and down.

“You know what I always say,” he said, cracking an evil grin. “If you build it…they will cum.” Nick groaned.

Brionna leaned back in the seat of her BMW convertible, her hands raised, her fingers brushing against the roof. The top was up for a reason; her latest boy-toy – another model from the agency – was into her huge breasts. His lips explored every inch of them, his breathing erratic to the point of hyperventilating. She had already forgotten his name – he was cute, had nice abs, great obliques, a nice sized cock…but he wasn’t very good. She could tell the moment they first had sex in her car that he had had a sheltered life…a mama’s boy. He was inexperienced. He was only now venturing out on his own, despite being in his early 20s.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped as he moved up to her neck. Gently, Brionna took his wandering hand – he obviously didn’t know where to put it – and guided it down to her pussy, right to her g-spot. The guy nearly passed out from shock, but she didn’t care. At least now he was pleasuring her, even if she had to help him.

“There you go,” she breathed, tilting her head back. Suddenly, she heard a motorcycle pull up next to her car. Quickly, she pushed the boy off of her; he plopped dazedly into the passenger’s seat, on the verge of passing out. Jesus, Brionna thought, what a wimp. She hadn’t given him that much X. Ignoring him, she rolled down the window as Travis hopped off his bike and ripped his helmet off with fury.

“Hey,” he said seductively. Travis had been looking pretty hot lately, especially since he got his new motorcycle. Maybe it was because she had a thing for bikers or maybe it was because he had put on a little weight recently, but he almost had her going.

“What the fuck?” he hissed, clutching his hands onto her door so hard his knuckles turned white. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “You have to know you’re not my only guy.” He scoffed, jutting out his lower jaw and narrowing his eyes in a way that made him look sexy. Brionna squirmed; maybe it was just the X working in her.

“I haven’t heard from you in weeks!” he sneered. She gently laid her hand on the sleeve of his black motorcycle jacket and peered up at him.

“You know I have other plans—”

“It’s that Ryan Maloney guy and his girlfriend, isn’t it?” Travis interrupted, glaring at her. Brionna raised her eyebrows and nodded. How could she tell him that Ryan was the only boy the got away, the only boy that said no…and then he goes and shacks up with her sister? How could she express to Travis – a kid who only cared about his drugs – how much she needed revenge?

“Relax, I have a plan…and it doesn’t involve you…” she answered cryptically. Travis looked at her, confused, realizing she was under the influence of something.

“Fuck you,” he muttered and stood up. But before he could get another word out of his mouth, a police siren whooped around the corner. Brionna glanced in her rearview mirror and saw the lights flashing against the houses. Shit!

“GO!” she screamed to Travis as she started the car. She slammed on the gas just as three cop cars zoomed around the bend. This wasn’t just a routine stop… As Brionna peeled out onto Hillside Road, the boy next to her woke up.

“What’s going on?” he asked druggedly.

“Shut the fuck up,” she ordered him, distracted. She had to get out of here, out of this neighborhood, get to a main road. Travis sped past her on his motorcycle, flying down the street. She followed right behind him, hoping he’d be wise to go an opposite way than she did once they got to Rolling Road. CRUNCH! Brionna winced as her front bumper scraped the pavement at a dip in the road, the intersection just in sight now, the cops on her heels. Travis was nowhere to be seen. He better have turned left, she thought.

“What the…” her boy-toy sat up, fully awake now.

“Hang on,” she warned as she squealed around the turn, other cars screeching to a halt to avoid hitting her or the police cars. A wider road ahead of her now, Brionna floored it, her engine kicking in immediately. Glancing in her mirror, the cops had fallen back a bit, but they wouldn’t stay there for very long. As she passed the high school, she caught a glimpse of Travis motorcycle a few blocks ahead of her. “Fuck!” she screamed, hitting the steering wheel.

“What?” the scared boy said, his eyes wider than saucers.

“I said, shut up!” she repeated. He hunkered down in his seat, afraid to speak up again. Hurriedly forming her route in her mind, she turned left onto Old Keene Mill, cutting through a gas station. She needed a little more space ahead of the cops. It was only a couple of miles and then the Beltway. Hopefully then she would be home free. Weaving in and out of traffic, she noticed Travis only a little bit ahead of her. She tried to get his attention, tried to tell him to keep going straight. It was obvious he didn’t know where to go or what to do. She pulled up alongside of him somehow. “The fucking highway, you idiot!” she yelled to him, pointing to the towering structure of the Beltway looming ahead of them.

Suddenly, she heard sirens coming from somewhere else and then saw four more cars stopped broadside across the road. Oh, shit! Looking behind her, she then realized the original three cop cars had backed off – they had realized her plan, radioed another squad to set up a roadblock! How the hell had they done that so fast?

“Oh my God!” the kid next to her yelped. Brionna looked just in time to see Travis’ motorcycle slide out from under him as he panicked, his body thrown ten feet away from it, hitting the ground and rolling over and over until he hit the curb. His bike continued to slide across the road and smashed into a lamppost with a crash. Fuck! Thinking quickly, Brionna cut left, vaulting one tire over the edge of a median, dodged oncoming traffic and sped into the parking lot of a shopping center. Hopefully, she’d be able to get up to Commerce and then jump onto the Beltway from there. Or could she do that anymore? Fucking construction! “LOOK OUT!”

Brionna looked up to see a slow-moving truck cross her path. She immediately slammed on the brakes, her car fish-tailing to a stop barely a foot from impact. She breathed a sigh, her chest heaving up and down. The police sirens rose up again as they neared her position, trapped next to the truck. She got out of her car, considered making a run for it…but then, lifted her arms up in surrender. The next thing she knew, three officers grabbed her and pushed her up against the car, handcuffing her wrists.

It was over.

“The boys should be at the wrestling tournament by now,” Erin observed, glancing at her watch. “Man, how I wish I was there right now.” Kim sipped the last of her soda, making it gurgle as she reached the bottom. The two girls were having lunch at the mall food court with Billy and Greg. They were spending their Saturday shopping – Erin wanted to use some of the gift certificates she had just gotten for Christmas from her brothers.

“You go to every one of his matches here,” Kim reminded her.

“I know,” Erin replied, “but this is a national tournament. Some of the best high school wrestling teams from around the country are there.” She shrugged, a grin creeping onto her face. “I just wanna see him annihilate them.” Billy laughed.

“I would just like to see the looks on the other wrestlers’ faces when they see Nick for the first time,” he said, biting into his second cheeseburger.

“I wouldn’t want to wrestle him, that’s for sure,” Greg added comically. “He’d probably break every bone in my body.”

“Oh, come on,” Erin defended her boyfriend, “Nick knows his own strength. He only uses what he needs to win.” Just like when he has sex, she told herself. “But you’re right, he’s definitely scary when he wrestles.”

“Yeah,” Billy swallowed his food, “like the time that guy from Herndon literally pissed his pants when he saw him.” The four of them laughed heartily, remembering it. They had all been there.

“You sure that was piss?” Greg suggested, eyeing Erin mischievously. She immediately hit him in the side, making him giggle uproariously.

“You have your own boyfriend, buddy,” she reminded him. “Stay away from mine.” She said it in jest and she knew Greg would never betray her or Brandon. But Nick was irresistible and she had noticed Greg popping his chubby every now and then around him.

“How are you guys doing without your boyfriends around, by the way?” Kim asked, nestling closer to Billy’s massive arms.

“Alright,” Erin answered with a sigh. “Basketball has been keeping me busy, but I’ve never gone this long without sleeping with him.” Well, after having sex almost every night for over a year, a week without was close to torture.”

“You should talk,” Greg suddenly spoke up. “I haven’t been able to have sex with Brandon since before his accident.” The other three looked at him skeptically. He looked down at the table in faux humiliation. “Well, unless you count oral…” They all laughed again. They knew Greg was a bit of a sex maniac and Brandon could give it to him without breaking a sweat. However, since his injury, the two really hadn’t been able to go full throttle. But they all knew that would change soon enough. “Ok, enough of this jock talk,” Greg said with a flick of his blond-streaked brown hair. “Kim, did you see those skinny jeans at Macy’s?”

“Aren’t your legs a little too…muscular for those?” she wondered aloud. Greg sometimes forgot that some of the styles he used to wear before he started working out no longer fit his cut-n-cute-muscular physique. He shrugged.

“Some brands,” he answered. “But Brandon thinks I look hot in them.” Kim shook her head, smiling. “My birthday is coming up…” he suggested.

“Alright,” she acquiesced, “show ‘em to me. Maybe I’ll tip Brandon off.”

“Cool,” Greg hopped out of his chair, beaming. “I’ll see you guys later.” He gave a quick cheek-peck to Erin and a hand-clasp to Billy.

“Bye, babe,” Kim kissed her boyfriend tenderly and followed Greg out of the food court. Billy kept his eyes on her until she disappeared around the corner. Erin smiled to herself.

“You two are so cute together,” she observed. Billy looked over at her and blushed. “Seriously,” Erin went on. “I never would have thought to match you guys up…but you’ve been so good to her, especially after what she’s been through.” The way Billy treated her – putting her on a pedestal – you could almost believe that she had never dated Ian. Billy sat quietly, thinking.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally said.

“Sure,” Erin replied, “go ahead.”

“Did you know…” he began, “I mean, have you noticed that…” Erin gave him a look of confidence. He sometimes had trouble explaining something that was uncomfortable for him. He took a deep breath and started again. “I think Nick and Brandon may be attracted to each other or in love with each other or something.” He swallowed, his eyes soft and nervous. “I, I can tell when they talk to each other, when Nick talks about Brandon.” Erin placed her hand on Billy’s, stopping his rambling.

“Billy,” she said softly, “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I know they still feel for each other.” She smiled, trying to make him feel more at ease. “They’ve even had sex together.”

“Really?” Billy responded in slight shock. “But aren’t you and Nick supposed to be together? And what about Greg?”

“Greg knows about it, too,” Erin continued. She almost was going to tell him about the night all four of them had had sex, but it might have been a little too much for him. “Look,” she explained, “you love Kim, right?” Billy nodded. “But you don’t just know it, you feel it.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “every time I look at her.”

“Nick and I feel the same way, Brandon and Greg, as well.” She looked directly into his eyes, making sure he understood her every word. “But Nick and Brandon have some sort of common bond that I don’t think any of us can truly understand.”

“You mean,” Billy ventured, “like when they came out?”

“Yeah,” Erin nodded. “That and Brandon’s been through a lot in the past couple of years and Nick’s helped him through it.” She sighed and grinned. “I know you’ve known Nick for longer than I have. So you know how caring and unselfish he is.” Billy nodded. She could tell he didn’t completely understand it all, but sometimes, she didn’t think she understood it either. Brandon was a complex kid. And there were probably still a lot of things she didn’t know about him. “Don’t worry about us,” she finally said. “We’re fine.” Then, Billy cracked a huge smile, his eyes brightening.

“Thanks,” he replied. That was all he needed to know.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Nick cheered on Kyle Backton as he watched his 145-pound bout from the sidelines. “Get under him!” The kid was super-talented and ridiculously quick. He was a shoe-in to win the tournament. Well, there were several guys on their team who could win their weight class, including himself…but he didn’t want to think about that now. “Yeah,” he pumped his arms as the referee signaled the pin. Kyle had won again.

“That was sweet, wasn’t it?” Peter said with a grin, pulling his sweatshirt off, airing out his bare torso. His cut abs flexed in and out as he breathed, his pecs rippled slightly as he moved his muscular arms.

“Yeah, Kyle is fuckin’ phenomenal,” Nick replied, grinning. “Jesus, Pete, you’re gettin’ ripped!”

“Oh, yeah, you think so?” Peter smirked in mock arrogance. He raised his arms and flexed his biceps; two baseballs exploded out of his skin. “That’s what the ladies have been tellin’ me!” The two laughed. Peter had really grown fast and at 170 pounds, he was starting to thicken up; it was obvious in his arms and chest – how they pushed out at all his shirts, stretched his singlet ever so slightly.

“Good luck, stud,” Nick said, clapping Pete on his broad shoulders.

“Thanks, you, too,” Peter returned, slapping him on the ass before leaving to prepare for his match. Nick looked around at his teammates strewn over one section of the bleachers set up in a cavernous Indiana Convention Center hall. The lightweights – most of them done for the day – were joking around as they ate their lunch, the middleweights were either cooling down from their matches or warming up for them and the heavyweights – their bouts still a ways away – lounged, psyching themselves up. As he looked from teammate to teammate, Nick couldn’t help but feel proud. He had naturally checked out the other teams and none of them looked as confident and strong as the Spartans – mentally or physically. He had never noticed it before, but every single wrestler on the Central High School team was in top physical shape. Of course, the other teams had Adonis’ of their own – their own Nicks and Kyles of whom they were proud – but they usually had several that weren’t so much…blundering, uncoordinated heavyweights or scrawny, inexperienced lightweights that only filled out their ranks. The Spartans had prospective champions in each and every weight class. Their muscles were all well-developed, their skills well-practiced, their moves well-rehearsed. The Spartans were simply the cream of the crop.

Nick’s eyes fell on Mike Garcia, the 189-pounder, his hulking body hunched near the top of the bleachers, his elbows on his knees, shirt off, singlet up, his wrestling pants barely concealing the power of his massive thighs. He was listening to music on his iPod, the wires from the ear buds falling across his cannonball shoulders and massive arms, a thick vein running along his bulging biceps. His dark brown eyes scanned the area like radar, like a predator searching for his next prey. Nick could only shake his head; the guy was so intense, especially before a match.

“Heard you finally made weight this morning,” Nick began, coming up to him. At weigh-ins that morning, Mike had weighed 194 pounds – five pounds over. He had spent all morning running and jogging around the convention center in plastic bags and layers of sweatshirts – Nick had given him his as well – but he was still too heavy. Now, he was wearing his singlet beneath his pants, which meant that he had made weight.

“Yeah,” he growled in his deep, rumbling voice that made Nick’s sound like a little girl’s. But then, he let go a little grin. “I guess I put on too much muscle over Christmas,” he said. Nick chuckled. It was said as a joke, but it was probably still true; it was well known throughout the team that Mike was one of the most dedicated guys in the sport. Even during vacations, he religiously ran five miles and lifted weights for three hours…every day…and it showed. At 189, he obviously wasn’t the biggest guy on the team, but he sure looked it. Since he was only 5’8”, he was packed with muscle. His bulbous chest was so thick his pecs nearly touched his chin, his lats so immense his beefy arms were forced away from the rest of his body by nearly a foot. His fat neck bowed outward whenever he moved it and his shoulders rippled with power. It sometimes seemed like he had muscles built on top of muscles.

“How’d you do it?” Nick asked. “How’d you make weight?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Mike answered, looking down at the floor between his legs.

“You didn’t…” Nick’s voice trailed off, not able to actually say the words, throw up. It had been years since he first witnessed Ryan Maloney force himself to vomit, but it still made him wince imagining one of his own teammates doing the same thing.

“No,” Mike immediately shot back. “I don’t do that sissy shit!”

“Good,” Nick replied, biting his lip.

“I…” Mike then subtly mimed squirting something up his butt. Nick’s eyebrows flew up in complete shock. Enema?

“No way!” he exclaimed. “You shit out five pounds?!”

“Six, actually.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Kyle had some in his bag,” he quipped. “I don’t know where the hell he got it from.” Then, he smiled and looked over at Nick. “Well, now I know what it’s like to have something stuck up my ass.” Nick laughed, gazing at Mike. He should smile more, he said to himself, he has a nice smile. Nick blinked, throwing the thought out of his mind. Mike sat up straight, stretching his giant delts. “I need you to warm me up,” he said. “You mind?”

“No, not at all,” Nick replied and followed his teammate down to the floor, his eyes staring at his huge protruding butt-shelf. Mike always joked about how his Colombian heritage gave him a big ass. “You should see my sister’s,” he’d always say, but Nick had to admit it was a gorgeous ass. His glutes flexed as he walked, moving up and down to the rhythm of his gait. Does mine do that, he wondered. When the two boys reached an area off to the side, Mike loosened up his arms and legs, waiting for Nick to take his wrestling jacket off.

“Fuck, dude,” he hissed, shaking his head. “How big are those guns now?” Nick glanced down at his gigantic arms, completely packed with nothing but muscle.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I think they’re somewhere near 23?” They had been 22 inches the last time he had Erin measure them, but they might have gotten bigger since then. Mike whistled.

“Be gentle with me now,” he warned, getting down on his hands and knees. Nick laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement, knowing that Mike could handle anything he could throw at him. Nick went to his own knees and bent over Mike’s body, wrapping one arm around his waist. He hesitated for a moment, secretly taking in the hardness of his teammate’s torso. He loved wrestling Mike; it somehow reminded him of Brandon’s body…the gentle contours of his curves, the smooth surface of his skin, the way his lower back arched…

“Whenever you’re ready,” Mike suddenly snapped him back to the present. Nick silently cursed himself and quickly locked his hands against Mike’s abs. Immediately, Mike went for the reversal, easily tossing all of Nick 275 pounds into the air, landing him on his back. In a blur, he whipped around and got into position to pin him. Damn, he was strong and so fast!

“Fuck it,” Nick grinned, Mike’s ripped pecs barely and inch from his nose, “you’re ready.” Mike smirked and stood up, helping Nick to his feet. “Knock ‘em out!” he added, slapping him on the ass.

“You, too,” Mike returned, giving him one more smile. Nick watched him go, admiring his body from a distance. He sometimes felt guilty for looking at his teammates that way. What would they say if they knew?

“Hey, Nick!” Brandon suddenly came hobbling up on his crutches. Instantly, Nick’s stomach lurched as he saw his best friend’s All-American smile beaming at him. “Did you see your next opponent?”

“You mean, the teddy bear from the Oklahoma team?” he replied, nodding toward a beast of a boy on the other side of the mat. The guy was as thick as he was wide, but like many wrestlers Nick fought, a good deal of his bulk was fat. But the funniest thing about him was his baby face; it didn’t seem to fit the rest of his body.

“Are you calling him that because he’s as big as a bear,” Brandon whispered to Nick, “or ‘cause he’s cute.” He shot him a devilish grin.

“Shut up, you fag,” Nick mockingly sneered at him.

“Good luck out there,” Brandon added, palming his butt, his hand lingering a split second longer than it needed to. The two jocks met eyes; Nick had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss him. “I think it’s intimidation time,” Brandon cocked one eyebrow, slipping into his southern Indiana twang. Nick blushed; he knew he loved it when he did that.

“Go ahead,” Nick winked and thrust his chin at the bleachers.

“Littleman, Cole!” Brandon called to the two smallest guys on the team. “Get over here!” Nick could tell he was excited; they had been planning this especially for this tournament. Jason Littleman and Blake Cole, the 103- and 112-pounders looked hilarious next to a 275-pound Nick…but that was the point.

“You ready?” he asked them. They nodded, smiling, honored to be chosen for this display of physical prowess. Nick lowered his arms and the two boys immediately hopped on, tightly wrapping their arms and legs around his massive forearms. Then, carefully and with total concentration, he lifted them into the air began performing a textbook set of shoulder presses, all the while glaring at his competitor from across the way.

“Shit, man!” Brandon exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief, although he had seen Nick performed even more unbelievable feats than this. Nick’s opponent looked downright scared as he completed a set of ten reps and gently lowered his two smaller teammates back down to the floor.

“Dude, that was sick,” Blake squeaked, clasping hands with Nick. Jason looked slightly dazed, seemingly not able to comprehend someone younger than he could so effortlessly press him over and over.

“I’m ready,” Nick boomed, giving them a smirk before heading out to meet his latest challenger.

Brandon scanned the ballroom of the Hyatt where they were staying. The room was filled with high school wrestlers and coaches celebrating the end of the tournament. Brandon proudly wore his Spartan jacket, knowing that everyone there looked at it with respect. The Spartans had won in seven weight class, including Nick, Mike, Kyle and Blake – far more than any other school.

“Hey, Nick!” he called over to his best friend when he finally spotted him and headed in his direction. He was talking with a burly man wearing a suit. That could only mean one thing…a college recruiter. Cautiously, Brandon hobbled up to them.

“Oh, you must be the great Brandon Jones,” the recruiter smiled at him. “Nick here has told me about you. I hope you recover quickly from that injury of yours. Football can be a rough sport.” Brandon laughed inside. Figures, Nick would mention him.

“Thanks, sir,” he said reverently.

“Well, son,” the man turned back to Nick, “I know you’re still a sophomore, but I hope you consider Michigan State in the future.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nick replied, shaking his hand. When the man walked away, Nick subtly rolled his eyes at Brandon. “It starts,” he mouthed, making Brandon smile.

“Well, everyone wants you when you’re good,” he said in a suggestive way. Nick’s face turned red. “Anyway,” he continued, “Pete found this…other party that’s a lot better than this shindig. You know, one with…real stuff.” Nick glanced at his teammate conspiratorially. He knew that meant beer and who knows what else…especially knowing Pete.

“Anything to get me away from these recruiters,” he whispered. Brandon could tell Nick had probably been approached all night. Well, after the performance he gave in the tournament – winning over half his bouts by pins – he would be pretty popular. Brandon led him into the lobby and toward the elevators. But as soon as they moved out of public view, Brandon grabbed Nick by his shirt collar and planted a passionate kiss directly on the lips. Immediately, a surge of warmth swept through Brandon.

“What the…” Nick breathed once they parted.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” Brandon replied with a bashful smile.

“So,” Nick cleared his throat, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “where’s this party you were talking about?”

“Upstairs,” Brandon said, pushing the button to the elevator, still not taking his eyes off of Nick. He was so hot, so gorgeous. He knew he had Greg at home and he loved him with all his heart, but there was still something about Nick that drove him crazy, what he couldn’t figure out.

“Oh, my God! Brandon?” a vaguely familiar suddenly voice called his name from behind. Brandon turned around. He blinked twice, not believing what he was seeing.

“Jeff?” he gasped in shock. Brandon froze. He hadn’t seen Jeff in years…and in a way, he hadn’t changed a bit. Though he was a bit taller, a little thicker, probably didn’t play baseball anymore. But his face was exactly the same, those eyes that always grew wide whenever he looked into them.

“B, you know this guy?” Nick asked, confused. Brandon blinked again.

“Uh, sorry,” he answered. “Nick, this is Jeff. He was a friend of mine when I used to live in Jasper.” He paused, wondering if he should just let it all out of the bag. He had to.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.” •

This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.

Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.

Archive Version 070326