Blake Hart
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Uncle Chris – Part 9
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 20:00:05 +0000 UTC[Commission Piece]
Everyone in this story is 18+
-------------Chris’s POV------------
It was a beautiful day for a milestone.
The field was crowded, unfolded chairs arranged in uneven rows, cheap plastic programs fluttering like leaves in every hand. The school had done its best to make the setting feel refined, but it was still a high school football field with patchy grass underfoot and the scent of sunscreen and lawn chairs lingering in the air.
I sat beside Emily, my wife, who kept snapping pictures on her phone and nudging me every time she got a good one. Next to her, Emily’s sister Anna, who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue, her husband beside her grinning ear to ear.
They were proud. Deservedly so.
And so was I.
I spotted him the moment the graduates marched in Grayson was tall, broad-shouldered, confident in that understated way of his. His robe clung to his frame just enough to hint at what I already knew was underneath. He looked grown. Not just legally an adult, but fully his own person now. Steady. Commanding.
I felt it hit me square in the chest.
It wasn’t just attraction, though God knew there was still plenty of that.
It was something more. Deeper. More dangerous.
He was surrounded by classmates, friends slapping his back, girls laughing too loud at things he barely said. Guys and girls, a few younger teachers too, half of them eyeing him like he was the main course at the afterparty. I caught one guy, blond, wiry, clearly on the track team—nudging Grayson and whispering something that made him laugh. Another girl, full lips, long lashes, definitely not wearing regulation heels, leaned in to adjust his gown like she had an excuse to touch him.
I shouldn’t have felt what I felt. That brief spike of jealousy, sharp and unwelcome. But then Grayson looked up—scanning the crowd like he was searching for something.
And when his eyes found mine?
Everything else dropped away.
He held my gaze for only a second, maybe two, but it was enough. No smile, not yet. Just that calm, grounded look that said, I see you. Like he could read every thought racing through my head.
I shifted slightly in my seat, adjusting my collar.
Emily leaned over. “Is that him, front row?”
“Yeah,” I said, voice tight.
“You were right,” she said. “My nephew is such a sweet boy, he really turned out great.”
I smiled, eyes still on Grayson, ignoring the slight pang when she said nephew. “Yeah. He really did.”
The principal launched into the usual speech, something about bright futures and meaningful growth and how this generation would change the world. I tried to listen, but my eyes kept drifting back to Grayson.
He looked calm. Collected. But when his name was finally called, I caught the flicker of excitement cross his face. He climbed the stage steps two at a time, shook hands with the administrators, and posed with that infuriatingly perfect smile for the camera. God, I was proud of him.
And just before he turned to leave the stage, he glanced sideways. Toward me.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not for the crowd. Not for the camera.
For me.
It was subtle. But I felt it everywhere.
Emily didn’t notice. Neither did Anna. But I did. And it made my pulse quicken in a way I couldn’t rationalize, not with family all around me. Not with the weight of everything we’d already done pressing quietly between my ribs.
When the ceremony ended and the caps went flying, everyone stood to cheer. I clapped along with the rest, smiling, heart full—and yet aching, too.
Because this wasn’t just pride. This wasn’t just affection.
It was deeper than that now. And it wasn’t going away.
◆◆◆
The backyard looked like something out of a magazine.
String lights crisscrossed above the lawn, casting everything in a soft golden glow. There were folding tables covered in white cloths, trays of finger food, half-empty lemonade pitchers, a cooler full of beer hidden behind the bushes. It was casual, cheerful, warm.
Anna, Grayson’s mom, was holding court near the grill, laughing with one of the neighbors. Emily stood beside her, towel slung over her shoulder, helping arrange a tray of cupcakes she definitely didn’t bake. She looked content, maybe even relaxed.
I stayed near the back patio, out of the way.
Grayson, of course, stuck to me like gravity.
I tried to be subtle, smiling when people came by to congratulate him, giving him his space when his old hockey buddies showed up, but he kept circling back to me like I was the only one that mattered. Which, considering what we’d done, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
"Uncle Chris played for my school back in the day,” he told one of his teammates, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Total beast on the ice.”
I gave him a sideways look. “Don’t oversell it.”
He grinned. “He had scouts chasing him junior year. Aunt Emily still has the clippings somewhere.”
"Well damn,” the guy said, clearly impressed. “Didn’t know you had a legend in the family.”
Grayson shot me a look that only I could read. “Oh yeah. He’s full of surprises.”
I shifted my beer from one hand to the other, clearing my throat. “You’re the star now. Let’s keep the spotlight where it belongs.”
Grayson didn’t argue, but he also didn’t stray far. Even when his friends joked or pulled him aside, he kept sneaking glances across the lawn, like he was making sure I hadn’t disappeared.
At one point, he passed me a plate with two burgers, winked, and said, “Can’t have you starving. You’ll need your strength later.”
I nearly choked.
Emily and Anna were too busy chatting about Lily and Mason, Grayson’s siblings being off at some wilderness camp to notice. No one else caught the undertones between me and Grayson. But I felt the heat rise in my neck anyway.
As the sun dipped lower and the crowd thinned, Grayson’s hockey crew trickled out one by one. Hugs, handshakes, bro fists and the usual “don’t be a stranger’s. He played the part well, friendly, charming, gracious.
But when the last of them walked off down the driveway, he turned back to me with a look I knew too well.
"Finally," he said under his breath. “They’re gone.”
I smirked. “Tired of playing the golden boy?”
“Not tired,” he said, stepping closer, voice low. “But I’ve got other things on my mind.”
I glanced toward the house. Emily was still chatting with Anna inside, their heads bent close together. They looked… content. Comfortable. Familiar. But distant. Like the kind of closeness that had settled into habit more than love.
I felt that twinge again, the guilt, the ache, the pull in opposite directions.
Grayson’s hand brushed mine. No one could see us from where we stood. He leaned in, barely an inch.
“I still owe you a thank you for coming,” he whispered.
“You’ll get your chance,” I said, trying to sound casual. “But first, I have something for you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You mean the surprise?”
I nodded.
“Well, what is it?”
“You’ll see.” I stepped back, let him follow.
And of course, he did.
We moved inside. The kitchen was still buzzing, but no one stopped us. We slipped past the noise, up the stairs, down the hall, until we reached his door.
He opened it.
I stepped inside.
Then he shut it behind us.
◆◆◆
-------------Grayson’s POV------------
The second the door clicked shut behind us, I grabbed Chris by the front of his shirt and pulled him in hard. Our mouths collided, all urgency and heat, like we hadn’t touched forever. I didn’t even back up, we stumbled together until my legs hit the edge of the desk and he just lifted me like I weighed nothing, planting my ass down as he moved to stand between my thighs.
His hands slid up my sides, under my shirt, hungry to feel. I yanked his button-up loose, fingers fumbling at the fabric until I got it off him. He looked so good like this, flushed, shirtless, already breathing heavy. My legs locked around his waist as we kissed again, slower this time, deeper.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he whispered against my lips, his voice cracked and full.
I froze for half a second, eyes catching his. Something about the way he said it, the way he looked at me, it almost undid me.
I leaned forward, kissed him softer, then rested my forehead against his.
“So…” Chris said, my hands running down his chest, “since it’s your party… You get to choose?”
My breath hitched. “Choose what?”
“Top or bottom.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I want you on your back. In my bed.”
I hopped off the desk and led him by the waistband of his jeans until his knees hit the mattress. I pushed him gently, and he let himself fall back, eyes never leaving mine. I crawled over him, kissing him again as I reached for his belt.
His jeans came off quick. His boxers followed.
My boxers, the ones I had slipped into his bag.
“You fucking kept them,” I whispered.
“Of course,” he smirked back. “They still smell like you.”
He dropped onto the bed, chest rising fast, and looked up at me with a heat in his eyes that made my whole body tense. I was already hard, and judging by the way his boxers-my boxers-strained, so was he.
Chris propped himself up on his elbows, then sat all the way up and reached for me.
“Come here,” he said, voice gentle and caring.
I stepped in close, and he didn’t waste a second. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around me, taking the head of my cock into his mouth with practiced confidence. The warmth of it made my legs shake.
“Shit,” I hissed, bracing a hand on the wall behind his bed.
His tongue flicked along the underside as he sucked me in, deeper and stronger. He let out a low sound around me and it vibrated straight through my spine down to my balls. My hand slipped into his hair, not forcing, just holding.
He pulled off, lips slick, eyes dark.
“God, I missed this.”
“You’re gonna make me finish if you keep going,” I muttered, already trembling.
He kissed my stomach, then laid back, arms loose beside him.
“Then fuck me already.”
I opened the nightstand drawer and grabbed the small bottle of lube. My hands were shaking a little as I slicked my hard meat up. He looked so ready, lying there, watching me with soft eyes and flushed cheeks.
“No prep?” I asked.
“I want it now,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
He lifted his legs, opening himself to me, trusting me completely. I knelt on the bed, guiding myself to him, rubbing the tip of my cock along his opening before pushing in.
He let out a long breath, fingers gripping the sheets. I paused halfway.
“You good?” I asked.
Chris looked up, jaw clenched, voice low. “Yeah. I can take it.”
I eased in, inch by inch, until I was fully inside him. The heat, the pressure, the way he pulled me in made my pulse pound in my ears.
“You’re so tight,” I said. “But you’re taking me like a champ.”
He nodded quickly and pulled me down for a kiss.
“Do it,” he whispered. “It’s your graduation.”
My hips started to move. I set a slow rhythm at first, letting him adjust, until he met each thrust with his own. His body accepted me like we were made for this. His hands roamed my back and his mouth met mine every time I leaned in.
“You feel amazing,” I said, breath short. “So perfect.”
Every stroke went deeper. Every sound from him made me want more. I kissed his throat, stroked him, stayed close, never letting him go.
His body tensed. I felt the change.
“I’m close,” he said, voice catching.
“Cum for me,” I coaxed.
He came hard between us, his erection spraying his cum across his abs and chest, his whole body arching. I followed seconds later, hips stuttering as I buried myself in him, filling his hole with my sticky and warm load, the pleasure washing over me like fire.
When we finally stilled, I collapsed beside him, breathless, my skin damp with sweat and something else. His arm slid around me.
“That was…”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said, brushing my thigh with his.
“What?”
“I want to take you to London,” he said, grinning. “That’s the surprise. You and me, the week after graduation. We’ll be gone for ten whole days—if you want to?”
I blinked at him, stunned.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. I need to get away. There’s a conference too, but even without that, I want to go with you. You deserve it. I already talked to your parents, they said it’s fine. Actually, they loved the idea. Said it’d be good for you, especially since I don’t get to see you as much as I’d like.”
I kissed him, fast and hard, smiling so wide it hurt.
“Of course I’ll go. But you’re insane.”
“I know,” he said. “You love it.”
We were still tangled in the sheets, grinning, when we heard it.
Voices. Footsteps. Stairs creaking.
Chris sat up, alarmed. “Shit.”
“Where’s Chris?” a voice called faintly from downstairs. It was my mom and someone else.
Chris bolted off the bed like he'd been electrocuted. “I need to hide. Now.”
“In the closet,” I hissed, already gathering his pants, his shirt, everything I could find. I tossed them in after him as he ducked into the walk-in.
Seconds later, I pulled on my own boxers and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the drawer. Just as I was tying the waistband, the door opened.
“Oh—sorry,” my mom said, standing in the doorway with a polite little knock she clearly didn’t wait for. “Didn’t mean to barge in.”
“It’s no problem,” I said, cool and calm as I put on my t-shirt. “The shirt was getting a bit stuffy. Just changing into something more comfy.”
She smiled. “Emily’s looking for Chris. Have you seen him?”
I hesitated for half a second. “I think he’s outside. Just helping clean up.”
She nodded. “Alright, I’ll send her out.
“Ok. I’ll be down in a minute.”
She shut the door.
I turned to the closet.
Chris who was clothed by now opened the door just enough to glare at me. “Outside? How the hell am I supposed to pull that off?”
I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him quickly. “Through the window. Now. You’re still athletic. Use it.”
To his credit, he didn’t argue. He opened the window, climbed out with surprising grace, then disappeared down the side of the house just in time.
A few seconds later, I heard the back door open and Emily’s voice float outside, calling for him.
I stood there for a long moment, heart still hammering.
Guilt bloomed sharp in my chest. But right behind it, like a second heartbeat, was something else.
London.
And him.
And whatever the hell we were becoming.
And that? That felt worth it. Every damn second.
