Chapter 2

JAY WAS going to miss the train if he didn’t get here soon.

I could see the headlights shining in the distance, drawing closer. It totally sucked getting up before 5:00 a.m. to go to work, but the trade-off was that I was home before 3:00 p.m. Totally cool. But during the winter it meant taking the morning train in the pitch-dark.

I wondered once again where Jay was and how far he had to come to get to the train. I just had to come a hop, step, and a jump—I’d bought an apartment just two blocks from the train station—so it was a three-minute dash or a five-minute wander for me to get to the train, depending on my mood and the weather.

The apartment was brand new and I loved it. It was inner-city living outside of the city. House prices in Perth had skyrocketed, putting the average three-bedroom house on the six-hundred-square-meter block out of the reach of anyone under the age of thirty unless they had rich parents. My brothers had scrimped and saved—and with a little help from Mum and Dad—had all bought modest houses and were working at paying off huge mortgages. I was the only kid who had gone for the apartment-style living that was now becoming popular over the house-and-garden option. Admittedly, I had help to pay for it—Mum and Dad had invested half of the compensation payment I’d received from the accident and I’d used that to get me started in my real estate investment. The other half of the compo money had been used years ago—medical bills, doctor’s appointments, physical therapy classes, tutoring, gym memberships, painkillers.

The apartment was also in the middle of the newest upmarket, “village-style” living complex—close to all amenities and right next to the train station, which was a must since I didn’t drive a car.

I looked again at the approaching train. I could deliberately not get on and wait for Jay, but what if he wasn’t going to work today? What if he was sick? What if he got fired for being late and now had to get another job that meant he didn’t have to catch the morning train? Fuck!

What if I never saw him again? After all this time, I had finally managed to talk to him and now he was gone. And after me finally admitting to myself that yes, maybe, probably, it was looking pretty sure that I was gay.

I’d done some pretty intensive soul-searching over the past twenty-four hours and I had come to the conclusion that boys did it more for me than girls. I rolled my eyes at my internal wimpishness. For God’s sake, Liam, be a man, not a child. Say it to yourself—you prefer cock. You don’t want a soft woman with flabby tits. You want a hard body that is male and comes with an equally hard cock. You want morning stubble and furry chests and balls.

I tried to imagine what Jay looked like under his clothes—complete with morning stubble, a furry chest, and balls. I had a pretty good idea of his body shape, as some of the clothes he wore were skintight and ought to be illegal. His buttocks and thighs were especially fine toned and well formed. I tried to image what his dick was like—circumcised? Most guys my age—and I assumed he was around my age—were circumcised, but some weren’t. I assumed he would have blond pubic hair because his eyelashes and eyebrows were blond. But maybe he shaved or waxed down there? Pubic hair was nice, but shaven…. Hoo-ee.

Shit! Now I have another bloody erection on the station platform. This was getting to be a habit. Soon someone will just have to say the word “train” and it will be instant wood! “Hey, Liam! I’m going to the gym to train. You wanna come? Hey, is that an erection?”

The train pulled in and I was just about to take a step forward when I felt a tap on my arm. I looked to the side and there was Jay. Beautiful Jay. Gorgeous Jay. Rebel Jay who was about to break Transperth’s rules as he handed me a steaming cup of coffee and entered the carriage, unsuccessfully hiding his own cup in his jacket.

“Quick, hide it!” he hissed at me over his shoulder and made his way down the end. I sighed and followed him, nodding politely to another 5:26 a.m. regular who was sipping her own beverage from a thermal mug.

I settled in beside Jay and leaned in confidentially. “Dude, I’m pretty sure that everyone breaks the rules and brings food on the train this early in the morning. I’ve even seen the guards do it. Relax.”

Jay looked around at the whole three other people who were in our carriage and unwound. “Oh. Right. Okay.”

I settled back as the train pulled away and took a hesitant sip. Flat white with one sugar, just the way I liked it. “How’d you know what coffee I wanted?”

Jay gave a secretive little smile and shrugged. “I remembered from yesterday.”

I took another appreciative sip and nodded my liking. “Thanks, Jay. It’s just want I needed.”

“Your turn to buy tomorrow. Okay?” I looked over at him to see him blushing slightly, staring at his cup so he wouldn’t have to meet my eyes. Why? I knew he wasn’t shy. Did he think I was going to reject him? Did he have people reject him a lot? Did they take one look at him and think he was too fruity to be a good friend? Oh, fuck! Was he offering more than friendship?

Well, I wasn’t turning him down. “Sure. What do you want?”

“A skinny café mocha with half a sugar, please.” I held my grin inside; trust Jay to have a complicated, girly order.

“Can’t I just order a flat white for you?” I was totally mocking him, and I was pretty sure he would do something flamboyant in response, and I was right. Before I could say “just teasing” he was on his soapbox—that box obviously got a lot of workout with him—and giving me a lecture about the differences in coffee. I didn’t want to tell him I was a total coffee-philistine who couldn’t tell the difference between instant and espresso or whatever the shit is they make at the fancy cafés.

I allowed him to go on for a while, just to hear his voice, but finally I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket. With a couple of taps I’d opened the notes function and I typed in “Jay’s coffee: skinny café mocha half sugar.” I held it up in front of his nose to cut off the flow of words pouring from his kissable mouth. He halted and focused on the screen.

“Oh. Yes. Good. Good idea. Thanks.”

I put my phone back in my pocket and told him, “You’re welcome.”

We sipped our beverages in silence for a while before I finally couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Ah, Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re friends now, yeah?”

“Umm… I guess?”

“So, in the tone of friendship, I’m going to ask you a really hard question. Okay? I just don’t want you to get too upset.”

“Ahh….” Jay was holding his breath and looked terrified—rabbit-in-the-headlights terrified. He was wide-eyed and tense. But I just had to ask. Friends helped friends, didn’t they?

Before he could conceive too many terrible scenarios, I ploughed on. “You’re not going to wear those pants all day, are you?”

It took a second to sink in, but I watched avidly as he deflated, slumping dejectedly in his seat, and nervously picked at the material on his thigh. Watching Jay’s overreaction to every situation he found himself in was more entertaining than prime-time TV. He didn’t disappointment me.

“Oh my Gawd! Are they that awful? I knew I just shouldn’t wear them. I was debating for ages this morning whether to wear them or dump them. They just cost me the earth, you know? But I didn’t want to toss them without wearing them at least once. I don’t know what made me buy them! A moment’s insanity maybe? I knew Tara—she’s the receptionist at the radio, you know—would tell me the truth. Oh my Gawd! I’m so embarrassed! Tell me straight, are they so bad? Like barf-in-my-bag bad?”

I looked at him solemnly. “Dude, even when M.C. Hammer had the bad taste to wear those pants he at least didn’t wear them in red tartan.”

Jay gave a screech of dismay. “Oh my Gawd! You are so right!” He dumped his half-emptied coffee cup in my spare hand and grabbed his trendy red backpack. “Never fear! I was prepared for this eventuality.”

Before I could say lickety-split, he was delving into the depths of the bag and pulling out a pair of plain denim jeans. He flicked them out in the small space between the train seating with a satisfied “ta-dah!” and bent to unlace his black combat boots. I watched him toe them off and looked around the mostly empty train carriage in trepidation.

“Jay? You aren’t going to do what I think you are planning to, are you?”

I was still holding two coffees and whisked them out of harm’s way as he abruptly sat up, his hands going to his belt.

“Relax! No one is watching. And even if they are I don’t give a rat’s arse. I cannot—simply cannot—stand to be wearing these pants for another minute now that I have realized the error of my ways.”

I flicked another horrified look around the carriage—we were more than halfway into our journey now and we had picked up a number of other commuters. Not that they were worried about us at all. Half of them had their earbuds in, listening to whatever cranked their handle, and the other half were catching five more minutes of sleep.

I heard the soft sound of a zipper and couldn’t help but look over. Jay wasn’t quite right in his statement that “no one is watching” because fuck me holy hell, I certainly was. Jay was quick and unselfconscious about shucking those tartan pants, but he still had to stand briefly, which put his cock at my eye level.

Shit! Oh fuck! Shit! Shit! Holy-mother-of-God!

It was simply a glimpse but it was burned into the back of my retinas. That half-a-second look was going to provide me with spank-the-monkey material for weeks!

Briefs! Not boxers like I wore. But nicely skintight briefs. Red—what else for Jay? I was right about the blond pubic hair, too. I could see its honey color in the hair curling on his thighs and that line of hair that snaked from his adorable belly button down to that red material.

And what a wonderful package that material held! In the space of less than a tick of the clock I had absorbed, measured, and catalogued the delightful sight of Jay’s cock and balls all curled up snuggly and together, just waiting for a chance to come out and play. I could see the roundness of his testes and the cylindrical curve of his cock as it rested slightly to the side, lying on their drool-worthy pillows. Oh, how delicious. I was hard before I could even blink. Thank God for jackets!

But as I turned away, my sluggish brain registered something even better. Something that made me nearly cream my own pants, then and there. Oh-sweet-mother-of-sweet-fucks!

Jay was wearing briefs with a grope-hole.

Oh, hold the front page and fuck a duck!

Now, I know that they are not really called grope-holes. They have a much less sexual-sounding name, but really? What guy uses the opening in the side of his underwear to pull his dick out to take a whizz? It’s not like you wear your pants up around your armpits. Only an idiot can’t move the waistband of his briefs down two inches. The only reason to have underwear with a flap at the side is if someone is hoping to get groped. Hence a grope-hole. If you have grope-hole undies it is easy for someone to simply undo your fly and stick their hand in. And once they have their hand inside your underwear….

Peter-Piper-picked-a-peck-of-pickled-peppers!

So did Jay get groped a lot? Maybe he had a boyfriend who would meet him at work on their lunch hour. Working at a radio station, I imagined that there were a lot of small, dark rooms where two guys who had ten minutes to spare and dirty minds could disappear into.

For a moment I imagined Jay pushed up against the wall of a dark room, the door closed and locked behind us, the clock ticking down to when we had to be back at our desks. I am just a bit taller than him—my frame wider, broader. I could come up behind him and push him face first into the wall, press my body up against him, and prevent any potential threat from stopping our mutual pleasure. He would moan. I could just hear it. I would be hard and I could grind myself into his arse. I had had so many sessions with just my hand, thinking of that arse. I could lean into him and curl my arm around his waist while my lips explored the back of his neck. He would shiver, pressing back against me, begging me for my hand. And I would oblige. Now that I knew he had a grope-hole, I could help him out in an instant.

I would delicately pull down the tab of his zipper—no need to undo his button or belt. That rock-hard cock of his could just stay snug and warm inside his pants. Once Jay’s zipper was down I could sneak my hand inside. Maybe I would explore for a moment over the top of the material, rubbing and teasing his firm cock and gently cupping his sensitive balls while he moaned and begged me for more. He would push and thrust his hips, imploring for a harder touch, pleading for skin-to-skin contact, arching up and pistoning his hips into my hand. Then, when I had teased him into a frenzy, I would slip my fingers into that grope-hole. My hand would touch the soft, wrinkled skin of his sac first. His cock would be pointing straight up, aching in need for my hand, but I would go for his sac first.

I imagined his ball sac to be lightly furred and extremely sensitive. I would use gentle fingers, running them up and around before sliding my hand under to hold them tenderly. I would squeeze, ever so lightly, just enough so I could feel each individual egg inside. I could roll them around between my fingers, loving them in the darkness. I would be aching to feel them with my tongue, but we would only have a few minutes to spare. No time for that.

But Jay would be agitated and excited. He would plead, “Please, Liam. Please, please, please. You know what I want. You know what I need. Don’t tease me. Touch me. Stroke my cock. You know it’s hard for you, just for you.”

So I would explore upward, curling my fingers around the firm flesh of his arousal. His cock would be long and thick. I would wrap my hand around him and squeeze—not gently, but not hard either. His cock would be begging and pleading and I would slowly, slowly undulate my fingers up its length, until I found the head of his shaft.

He would be leaking. I fancied Jay as a gusher, the head of his cock dripping with precome. I would investigate that liquid, drawing it around the head, exploring the ridge of his skin around the crown, touching the sensitive underside of his erection. Once I had spread that lubrication all over, I would grip him firmly again, squeezing and moving my palm up and down his length.

My mouth wouldn’t be idle either. I would be pressing kisses to the back and side of his neck and tracing his earlobe with my tongue. I would draw those tiny diamond earrings into my mouth and suck slightly. My mother has always told me I was a very oral baby, always putting things in my mouth. And God I wanted to put things in my mouth now. But I would have to be satisfied with Jay’s earlobe and earrings. I would circle those studs with my tongue, and suck at them while I moved my hand up and down the length of his erection.

He wouldn’t last long—I know I wouldn’t if our roles were reversed. I would stroke faster and faster, kissing behind his ear and lightly biting at that strong muscle in his neck. And there in the closed darkness he would come.

Oh-Snow-White-and-her-horny-little-seven-dwarves!

I was about to come myself, in public, on a public train and be very publicly humiliated.

Jay was bent over, threading his feet into the legs of his jeans. He drew them up and stood briefly again to pull them up over his hips. I stared straight ahead, but saw a flash of red in my peripheral vision and knew that Jay’s cock was temptingly near my mouth again. He leaned back, buttoning and zipping in quick order and thankfully, he was once again covered.

“See!” he crowed. “All done and no one saw a thing!”

I choked on my tongue and turned red.

“What?” he asked me. “What’s wrong?”

I tried to laugh it off. “I’m just trying to think who I would call if I needed to be bailed out. Which person could I tell I had been arrested for public indecency along with a gay man who had no pants on?”

Jay laughed as he unceremoniously stuffed the atrocious tartan pants in his bag. “So, did you decide who you would call?”

“My brother, Dale. He owes me.”

“Yeah? What did you do for him?”

I smirked in Jay’s direction. “I dated his wife.”

He snorted. “What? You mean he didn’t take out your daddy’s shotgun and shoot you for it?”

“I know it sounds worse than it is, but you see, I dated Candice at university. We had three dates and then I had to attend my cousin’s wedding, so I took her along. It was there she got to meet my whole family. Two weeks later, over a very nice piece of steak, she tells me she can’t see me anymore because she is in love with my brother, and can she please have his phone number?”

It was Jay’s turn to choke and spit as he tried to contain his laughter. “Obviously the story has a happy ending?”

I shrugged. “I guess it depends on your idea of bliss. Dale tells me he hasn’t had sex for over six months, but he is ecstatic with his one-month-old son.”

The train entered the tunnel, taking us down under the city to our stop. “So was your heart broken?”

“Nah. I am just thankful I never took her to bed. Can you imagine the ick factor of knowing you’d once screwed your sister-in-law?”

But instead of laughing, Jay simply tilted his head, and surveyed me in a considering manner. “Really? Three dates—well, even more than that if you include the wedding—and you didn’t manage to get into her pants?”

I was saved from answering by the announcement we were now at Perth Underground. I joined the surge of people rushing for the door. I guessed it was telling that Candice and I had dated without me even once trying to get her naked and in bed. But was I ready to reveal all and announce that I was gay? What would people say? What would my mum say? What would my boss say? Oh God, what would my dad and my brothers do?

Had I even thought about the consequences of being gay?

I followed the same path as yesterday, moving away from the crowd and to the escalator. I could feel Jay next to me, taking the long way just to keep me company. At the top of the escalator I paused off to the side. Would Jay come straight out with it? Would he just say, “Hey, are you gay?” And if he did, what would I say?

Those cows had spent so long out in the paddock they weren’t quite ready to come home yet.

As much as I wanted to explore a physical relationship with Jay—assuming he wanted to as well!—I just couldn’t quite admit out loud I was gay.

I halted and looked up, expecting to see a knowing smile on Jay’s face, but he looked like his normal self. “So…?”

He just shrugged. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I could’ve sobbed with relief. He wasn’t going to say anything more on the subject. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Flat white, right?”

He made a moue of disgust at me. “If you want to see a big, flaming drag queen, hissy, sissy, melt down, you can bring me a flat white.”

I chuckled. “No thanks. I’ll just have to swallow my manly pride and order a skinny mocha.”

“Thanks, Liam. See you tomorrow, then.”

“Catchya later, Jay.”