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had to get to the main event. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed Calvin to the root.
    “Jesus!” Calvin moaned, putting his hands gently on either side of Brock’s head.
    This would not be the most finessed blowjob he’d ever given, but Brock tried to put all he was feeling into it, as he knew he’d not be able to put it into words. Calvin had believed in him, hadn’t listened to his bullshit about being okay. Instead he’d taken charge of everything, marched him to the ER and demanded they get treatment. Sure, it’d been embarrassing as hell standing at the desk, but secretly Brock had admired Calvin for standing up for what he believed in, sticking up for him.
    “Oh, God!” Calvin groaned when Brock started to hum around the head of Calvin’s dick. “Not gonna last long.”
    That was the idea. This hard floor was hell on Brock’s knees.
    Pulling off a little to take a breath, Brock put his tongue to work by rolling it around Calvin’s shaft.
    “Jesus, man.”
    Brock redoubled his efforts to make it good for Calvin.
    “Oh, man, gonna…gonna…!”
    Brock felt his mouth fill with warm pungent sweetness. Levering himself up with the aid of the toilet seat, he stood.
    “Wow. I—”
    Brock silenced him with a kiss, feeding Calvin’s seed back to him. They swapped spit for a minute or so, before the enormity of what he had just done began to dawn on Brock.
    “I sure wasn’t expecting anything like that,” Calvin said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
    Brock froze when he heard the outer door open and close. Footsteps echoed in the tiled room, then came the sound of a stall door being latched. Suddenly the stall he was in felt too small, the lights too bright, the smell of disinfectant too strong. What had he done?
    With shaking fingers, Brock unlatched the door and fled. This should have been about saying thank you to Calvin, but his good intentions were crowded out by images of other blowjobs given—and received—in other bathroom stalls. Those had all been about getting off, relieving an urge. Brock felt cheap…dirty.  
    Chapter 3
     
    “Brock?” Calvin stared after the man as he ran out of the bathroom stall. He heard the outer door being wrenched open and then slammed closed. Well, I’ve heard of wham, bam, thank you, man, but this is ridiculous.
    Then Calvin realized his soft—and still damp—dick was hanging out of his pants. Tucking himself back in, he went to the row of sinks, washed his hands, dried them, and slowly made his way out of the bathroom. He felt strangely depressed. He guessed he should have expected Brock to get an attack of What the hell have I done.
    Emerging from the ER exit, Calvin blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the bright sunlight. Turning right and walking along the sidewalk, he remembered they’d come in his car, Brock’s truck still being at the bar. Despite feeling jilted, Calvin worried how Brock would get home. However, on approaching his car he saw Brock leaning against it. Normally Calvin’s first thought would have been about possible damage to his paint job, but instead he felt relieved that the guy hadn’t run away completely.
    “I don’t want to talk about it,” Brock mumbled, scuffing the toe of his cowboy boot on the asphalt.
    “Okay.” Calvin wanted to say more, but knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere.
    “Would you drive me to the bar so I can pick up my truck?” Brock still wouldn’t meet Calvin’s eyes.
    “Sure, no problem.”
    They both got in the car; even KITT’s usual greeting failed to improve either of their moods.
    * * * *
    The ride to the bar was made in complete silence. Calvin thought about turning on the radio, but given his current luck they’d probably be playing Stand By Your Man on the country station, or there’d be some asshole preacher ranting on about sin and damnation on the religious station. So his hands remained on the wheel. He slid the occasional glance over to Brock, whose expression