Cockybeast logo
by Cilantro C. Guevara

Today, we announce the grand prize winner of our first official CockyBoys Fan Fiction Contest! We had an overwhelming response to this contest, and first and foremost, we’d like to thank everyone who entered. It’s not easy to write an engaging story, much less one that can creatively intertwine our CockyBoys‘ distinct personalities and aesthetics. But this contest showed us the dedication of our fans as well as the writing talent among them, even inspiring Jake Jaxson, RJ Sebastian, and Benny Morecock to produce a film inspired by the winning entry below!

Without further ado, we’d like to congratulate Patrick Dyer, whose story “Too Soon” was voted unanimously as the winner! Along with excellent writing chops, Patrick crafted a hyper-realistic story with a dreamy and stream-of-consciousness style that ultimately won us all over. Here’s what one of our judges, @Peters25A had to say about the story:

“My favorite story felt like much more than fanfic.  It was a fantasy that becomes reality, yet beautifully told in a way that makes the lines between them blur.”

In addition to a CockyBoys, Jake Jaxson, or Benny Morecock DVD, Patrick will receive a 1 year subscription to CockyBoys, a signed RJ Sebastian photo, and a signed copy of the A Thing of Beauty photography book when it hits stores in March, and his story will work as inspiration for a film by Jake Jaxson released this year!

You can congratulate the (Twitterless) Patrick in the comments section below or via email here: dyer@pfspublishing.com. And be on the look out for “Too Soon” to become a reality on CockyBoys in the near future!

too-soon-big-pic

by Patrick Dyer


I wake up when I hear someone in my kitchen.
My heart’s beating a little too fast and the first thing I realize is that I’m naked. I normally wear underwear, socks, and t-shirt to bed. My feet are cold and that should have woken me up hours ago. My head aches, just a bit of pain right in the front over the right eye, and then I hear the clanging again in the kitchen.

His tongue had tasted sour, then sweet, like candy. His skin was salty and I wanted to taste all of him. Devour him.

My roommate is visiting her parents in Nebraska, and no one else has keys to our place. We have no current lovers and we both made sure to get the keys back from our old ones. One bad experience with a jealous ex will convince you that security is key. I try to remember what happened last night, but there are only fragments where my memory should be. I remember going to a bar by myself, after my buddy left me for the latest in a line of two-day max boyfriends. I had decided I was going to end the six month drought.

His eyes widened as he pushed his way into me. I gasped and he moaned. I should be more scared, I think. I grab the nearest pair of athletic shorts, black and baggy, and a t-shirt, grey and nondescript, tight enough to show that I force myself to the gym every other day. I slip my feet into my sandals. I’ve never felt comfortable being completely naked. It exposes too much.

When I work up the courage to peep into the kitchen of my small New York City apartment that only has four rooms (two bedrooms, a bath, and a room with a kitchen that was also a living room and office) and not enough space to even have a proper party, I see a shirtless man wearing nothing but sneakers and a pair of tight green boxer briefs with white outlines. I ripped off his underwear with my teeth, running my hands down his back and pressing into the thick muscles there. He’s tall, skinny, and pale, with a crest of arms on his left pec and a mess of blond hair.

I can’t remember his name.

“Hey,” I say. He hasn’t looked up at me yet. He’s too busy with the bacon, which I know wasn’t in my freezer. I want to ask where he got it from. “Are you ready?” he asked, pressing himself against my hole.

“Good morning,” he says cheerfully, as if this was an everyday occurrence. Maybe it is, for him. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up, since breakfast is almost ready. I went to the bodega across the street to get some stuff.”

“They have bacon?”

“Don’t all bodegas have bacon?”

I watch him finish and I don’t know what to say. Most of the hook-ups I have end with the guy leaving in the middle of the night or walking awkwardly to the door or to the train in the morning and you have a brief good-bye kiss that lacks all the passion of the sex the night before and you both promise to call but it never happens and then that’s it. You forget. We pass each other in a bar some day and pretend that you used to know each other by saying hello or giving a simple head nod but you probably don’t bother to follow up with questions about their job or their family because you never knew the answers in the first place.

“Are you sure you want to come over? Are you sure it’s not the alcohol?” I said, and he kissed me in front of the bar, which I always hate because I’m neurotic but last night it just made me hard. I hate being uncomfortable.

“How did you get back in?” I ask.

“You threw your keys in the basket by the door when we came in last night,” he says simply.

“Oh,” I say. “Oh!” I gasped as his tongue swirls around the head of my dick.

“Breakfast is OK, right? I was hungry and you didn’t have anything and you said we could get breakfast this morning but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you,” he says, smiling. He’s charming, this one, with his smooth talk and boyish charm. “You look like you could use some fun,” he said, biting my ear.

He walks back to the small table my roommate sets up in the corner of the room for meals and bends down, just a bit, to set the bacon and the pancakes on the table. He’d already set out the maple syrup and the butter and he’s seen what sort of disorganization I live in and I’m terrified for a minute, but I’m distracted by his ass. It’s gorgeous and round and the muscles in his back ripple when he moves and he turns around and I want to run my hands over the abs that I can only somewhat remember licking last night. I wish I could remember it all. Mostly, his name.

He looks at me and smiles. He looked at me from across the room, and I realize I’ve been staring again. I had one too many drinks and I couldn’t focus on anything except the bartender’s gigantic biceps and the mop of blond hair on the guy at the end of the bar. When he saw me staring, he smiled at me and I looked away because I’ve never been very good in this sorts of situations. He seemed familiar, though, in a way I couldn’t place, and it made me look back and smile. I smile back. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” he says, walking over to me with that sheepish grin that still manages to promise all the wrong things. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. We kissed against the wall and his hand was on my neck and my shoulder and he pushed me down the length of his long torso and I was more than happy to oblige. I wanted to taste all of him. He kisses me, sweetly at first, and then a little insistent, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I worry about morning breath. He’s been eating the bacon, I can tell, and it’s delicious. He tasted delicious and I couldn’t help myself but to swallow everything.

He pulls back from me and I left go of his hair. I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto it. He turns and shakes his hips just a bit to make sure I’m watching his ass. He’s smirking, I know, even though I can’t see it and I can’t help but smile too. He is charming.

“You have no idea what my name is, do you?” he says, plopping down unceremoniously into the seat across the table from me and looking up at me with those ice blue eyes. I stared into his eyes and he took me into his mouth again, grinning all the while.

“What?” I say. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I freak out a little.

“It’s alright, really,” he says, popping a piece of his bacon in his mouth and chewing. He grabs the maple syrup and is pouring and motions for me to sit and eat. He’s still chewing and I feel like he’s taking his time because he likes toying with me. His hands are stronger than I had expected from someone skinny like him, but they kneaded into my chest and shoulders and ass, kneading the tension away.

I take my seat and start to butter my pancakes, watching him the whole time. His eyes are dancing and mirthful, like he’s playing a game that he knows he’s winning. “I even told you both of my names and you didn’t remember either of them.”

“Both of your names?”

“Do you want to know why I look familiar? It’s because you’ve seen me before. They’ve all seen me before,” he whispered into my ear at the bar, his breath spilling down my neck and causing the tiny little hairs to stand on end.

“It’s too bad you don’t remember. I’m not going to tell you again,” he says. “One time only deal.”

“You’re leaving this afternoon,” I breath the words out and it all comes back to me. He’s not from here. He’s not staying. He’s going back home, back to his real life, out there in the south or the Midwest or the plains. I can’t remember what he said he really did.

But I remember his other life now. What he does when he’s here in the city. I remember his other name. “Your name is Hayden.”

“And yours, for this morning only, can be Sam. I’ve always liked that name. Now eat up. Your bacon’s getting cold and I want to take a shower with you before I need to leave for the airport. Have I told you I how much enjoy making out in the rain? I always imagine the shower is rain.” My name’s not Sam, but for this morning, I’ll let it slide.

“Romance isn’t dead, you know,” he said, grabbing my hand as we head up the stairs to my apartment. I hadn’t brought a boy home in nearly two years that wasn’t my boyfriend and I was nervous, but he was calm and beautiful and I could barely keep myself from ravishing him in the stairwell where everyone could see. “It’s just that we’ve forgotten that romance can be small. And quick. And beautiful. It’s the experience and the thought and the moment that counts. Some of the best affairs are those that can only be fondly remembered because the only bad thing about them was that they ended too soon.”


    “It’s just that we’ve forgotten that romance can be small. And quick. And beautiful.”

    Yes! It most definitely can.

    Sarah
    January 10th, 2014 5:17 pm

    Wonderful story Patrick. I enjoyed every word of it. Thank you.

    Cindy Sutherland
    January 10th, 2014 5:19 pm

    Oops!!
    Forgot to say congratulations.
    This is a very well deserved win.

    Sarah
    January 10th, 2014 5:21 pm

    Excellent work! Congrats!

    Lisa
    January 10th, 2014 5:29 pm

    Loved this! So well deserved. Congrats!

    Dalina dragontattoo75
    January 10th, 2014 5:34 pm

    Amazing! Very well deserved! Congratulations!

    Hannah
    January 10th, 2014 5:47 pm

    Love it….. And I love that the winner story features Hayde, ’cause he is my favorit cockyboy. Congrats.

    Lisy Openmind
    January 10th, 2014 7:16 pm

    Good work, Patrick! Please let us know if you have other published work so we can read it! You’re a truly talented writer.

    Amy
    January 10th, 2014 7:31 pm

    Thank you so much for this honor! I don’t have any other published work (not yet, at least, though after winning I’ve been thinking about writing some more gay erotica) – but I actually do have a Twitter at @PFSPublishing. Feel free to follow me!

    Patrick
    January 13th, 2014 9:17 pm

    Cet article est vraiment plein de vérités

    my blog post furie égyptienne

    Lenard
    May 15th, 2014 2:12 pm

Leave a comment