All events are fiction. All characters are over 18.
- Zane Whitaker: Age 18; short dirty blonde hair; blue eyes; 5’9”; pitcher on the baseball team
- Brody Kessler: Age 19; wavy, short black hair; dark brown eyes; 6’3” 250 lbs; heavyweight wrestler
- Ray Whitaker: Age 41; dirty blond hair; blue eyes; 6'2";
- Luc Simon: Age 26; light blonde hair; hazel eyes; 6'6; French grad student; athletic, triathlete build
Zane Whitaker had been up since 5 am that morning. He was 18, three months out of high school, and today he was moving into Harlan Hall on the north end of the campus at State, the biggest party school in the SEC.
Drove up with his dad in a white F-250 trust, and it had taken them 3 hours. Zane had slept for maybe 30 minutes of it. The rest of the time he’d been too keyed up to do anything but stare out the window and halfheartedly pay attention to his dad’s rambling.
They found a spot in the unloading zone behind the dorm at a quarter past ten. Move-in day traffic had already choked the lot. Minivans idled in the fire lane with their hatches up, and families hauled plastic bins and mini-fridges and rolled-up rugs across the hot asphalt while orientation volunteers in bright orange shirts pointed and shouted directions.
Zane got out and immediately felt the heat. It came up off the pavement in waves. He’d worn a gray State baseball tee and mesh shorts, and within about ninety seconds, the shirt was sticking to the middle of his back. To make things worse, it was very sunny.
“Jesus,” he said.
“Told you to bring a hat.” His dad shut the driver’s door and came around the front of the truck.
Ray Whitaker was 41 years old. He stood 6’2”, 5 inches taller than his son, and he was built thick across the chest and shoulders in a way Zane hadn’t quite grown into yet. He had the same dirty blonde hair, cut short, going gray at the temples. He had the same blue eyes. People had been telling Zane his whole life that he was his father’s copy shrunk down a size, and he’d stopped arguing about it around the time he entered high school, mostly because it was true.
Ray pulled the tarp back and started undoing the ratchet straps. “You got your room number?”
“311.”
“Third floor.” He grinned. “Elevator line’s gonna be about two hours long. Hope you trained your legs this summer.”
Zane didn’t answer. He climbed up into the bed, got a hand under the first box, and swung it down onto his hip in one motion.
Zane was 5’9” and 175 pounds of lean muscle. Zane was recruited to the D1 baseball team at State, and he’d spent the whole summer lifting five days a week and doing sprint work in the mornings before the sun got high.
Alot of baseball players didn’t take conditioning seriously and had average bodies. Zane, on the other hand, cared a lot about his body. He had thick shoulders that rounded out under his sleeves, a broad chest, and a stomach he could see every line of in the mirror. His forearms were roped and tan from a summer of outdoor practice.
He’d done a lot of squatting, too, and it showed. His thighs were heavy enough that he had to size up in jeans, and the mesh shorts he had on didn’t hide much of what was above them. His butt was full and round and stuck out behind him, and it had been that way since about sophomore year, when the girls in his class started making a thing of it and he learned to laugh it off.
“Careful with that one,” Ray said. “That’s your mom’s dishes.”
“Dad, it says ‘books.’”
“Oh. Then be careful with the books.”
Zane took the first load up. The stairwell was hot as an oven and smelled like paint and dust, and by the second-floor landing he could hear a girl somewhere above him crying about a lofted bed. He didn’t stop. He got to 311, shouldered the propped door open, and set the box down on the bare mattress on the left side of the room.
The room was large. Two beds, two desks, two wardrobes, one window with an AC unit that was running but not doing much. The right side had already been claimed — sheets on the bed, a laptop on the desk, a duffel bag on the floor — but whoever it was wasn’t there.
Zane went back down. He and his dad had the truck unloaded in five trips.
It was on the last one, coming up the stairs with a plastic tub on one shoulder and a rolled comforter under his other arm, that his dad started in.
“Now, listen.” Ray was two steps behind him with a lamp and a box fan. “Sit in the front of the class. I’m serious. Nobody in the back row’s ever done anything worth a damn.”
“Okay.”
“And go to office hours. First week. Before you need anything. So when you do need something, the guy knows your face.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“You don’t gotta like the professor. You just gotta be a name he remembers.”
“I got it.”
They came out on the third floor. Ray was breathing a lot harder than Zane was.
“One more thing and then I’ll shut up.” Ray shifted the fan to his other arm. “You use protection. Every time. I don’t care what she tells you she’s on.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m not joking around.”
“I know you’re not.”
“Every time,” Ray said. “Doesn’t matter how well you know her. Doesn’t matter how the night’s been going.”
“Dad...”
“That’s it. That’s the whole speech. I’m done.”
Zane said okay and kept walking, and that was the end of it. It wasn’t a hard thing to agree to. Zane had dated two girls in high school and he’d liked both of them fine and always used protection with them.
Using protection wasn’t the part that made Zane start feeling uncomfortable.
The part was that his dad had said *she* four times in ten seconds and never once considered saying anything else…and there was no reason he should have, because Zane had never given him one. Nobody had one. Not his mom, not his friends, not the guys on the team, not the two girls.
Zane’s bisexuality was the one thing about himself he had never said out loud to another living person, and he had gotten so used to not saying it that most days it sat quiet and didn’t ask him for anything.
Move-in day was apparently not going to be one of those days.
Zane set the box down inside the door and straightened up. His shirt was soaked through the chest now and the back of his neck was slick. He pulled the collar up and wiped his face with it.
Ray put the fan down and stood there a second, looking around the room with his hands on his hips. “Damn, son. This is a whole lot bigger than what I had. Colleges are getting fancy these days.”
“Yeah I like the layout. This is fire.”
“You got the good side. Window unit blows right on you.” He nodded at the other bed. “Roommate’s already here, huh.”
“Guess so.”
“You know anything about him?”
“Just his name. Housing sends you an email.” Zane crouched and started working at the tape on one of the boxes with his thumbnail. “Brody Kessler.”
“Know anything about him?.”
“He wrestles. That’s probably why they put us together, they like to pair athletes together.”
“Huh.” Ray picked up the box fan again, set it in the window frame, and stepped back to look at it. Then he turned around and grinned. “Wrestler. Well. Hide your snacks and don’t leave anything on his half of the floor.”
Zane looked up at him. “Are you gonna be like this all day?”
“I got about thirty minutes before I have to drive back,” Ray said. “So yeah.”
Zane rolled his eyes.
They walked back down to the truck together, and Ray didn’t say much on the way, which for Ray was its own kind of statement.
When they got it the parking lot, Ray stood by the open driver’s door for a second, keys in his hand, looking up at the building
“Alright,” he said. “I guess that’s it…You got everything? Sheets, the thing for your desk, all that?”
“I got it, Dad.”
Ray nodded and then he reached out and pulled Zane into a hug, one arm hooking around his neck and the other flat between his shoulder blades. Zane hugged him back, expecting the usual two-second squeeze and a slap on the back, and instead his dad held on. A few extra seconds. Long enough that Zane pulled back a little to look at him.
Ray’s eyes were wet.
Zane had seen his dad cry exactly twice in his life. Once at his grandfather’s funeral, and once when Fairview High School won regionals and Zane had looked up into the stands and found him there, both fists in the air. This wasn’t like either of those. This was just quiet tears.
“Dad.”
“I’m fine.” Ray cleared his throat and looked off toward the building again. “I’m fine, I just—” He stopped and shook his head, and then he looked back at Zane and his voice came out a bit choke up. “I’m proud of you. I want you to know that. Not just today. I’ve been proud of you a long time.”
Zane didn’t know what to do with that. It landed somewhere in his chest and sat there.
“Thanks dad. Means a lot to hear that,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything better.
“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.” Ray wiped at his eye with the back of his hand, quick, like he was hoping Zane hadn’t noticed. “Go be a pain in somebody else’s ass for a while.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
Ray laughed at that, short and wet, and pulled him in again, quicker this time, and clapped him twice on the back before he let go. Then he climbed up into the truck without saying anything else, and Zane stood there and watched him pull out of the lot and disappear past the guard shack.
Zane stood in the heat for a minute after the truck was gone. Then he went back inside to unpack. He’d made it about halfway through unpacking his desk drawer when the door swung open behind him.
“What’s up, man.”
Zane turned around, and the first thing he registered was that his new roommate wasn’t wearing a shirt. What kind of a douchebag walks around shirtless on the first day of orientation?
Brody Kessler filled up the doorway. He had to be at least 6’3”, and he was a beast of man. Broad shoulders, a built chest covered in dark hair that ran down the center of his stomach in a line. Thick arms that looked like they belonged on someone twice his age. He had wavy black hair, a little damp with sweat, and dark brown eyes, and a jaw that looked like it had been carved out of granite. He was carrying two duffel bags like they weighed nothing and sporting a cocky, confident grin.
Zane had grown up around athletes his whole life. He’d seen plenty of guys with good bodies. He was, by most measures, not bad to look at himself. None of that stopped the half-second where his brain just stalled out looking at the guy in front of him.
“Hey,” Zane said, and it came out about half a beat too late. “Um oh uh yeah. Hey, man.”
“You’re Zane, right?” Brody dropped the duffel bags by the closet and walked across the room, and then pulled Zane into a bro hug, one arm looping around his back and hauling him in.
“Good to meet you, man, I’m Brody Kessler,” Brody said into his ear.
Zane’s face ended up pressed against Brody’s chest, and the first thing he registered was how sweaty it was. Brody had clearly just been outside for a while, and his skin was slick and warm and his chest hair was damp against Zane’s cheek. Under normal circumstances Zane would have pulled away aw quickly as he could.
But Zane didn’t pull away. Instead he inhaled.
Brody smelled like sweat and cheap deodorant, and it should have been gross, and some distant part of Zane’s brain registered that it was, technically, gross, and none of that mattered even a little, because Brody Kessler was hot as hell and his arm was heavy across Zane’s back. Zane could not believe how turned on he was by his new roomie’s hairy chest.
Brody let go and stepped back, grinning, completely unaware he’d just short-circuited something in his new roommate’s head.
“Damn, it’s hot out there,” Brody said, wiping his forearm across his face. “Y’all drive far?”
“Uh — three hours,” Zane said. “You?”
“Forty minutes. Grew up ’bout twenty miles from here.” Brody dropped down onto bed on his side of the room, leaned back on his hands, and looked around like he was taking inventory. “This is us, then. 311.”
“Yeah.”
“Sweet.” Brody looked over at him, still grinning. “You play ball, right? Pitcher.”
“Yeah. You wrestle?”
“Yup. Heavyweight.” Brody flexed one arm without seeming to think about it, an idle habit more than a show. Zane admired the large bicep and then the dense bush of curly pit hair that was exposed.
They talked for a while after that, mostly about sports. Brody had opinions on the American League standings and wasn’t shy about them. He asked Zane who he thought was walking away with the division, argued him out of his answer, then argued himself back around to agreeing with it ten minutes later like it had been his idea the whole time.
They covered football recruiting rankings, the two dining halls, and which professors to avoid according to Brody’s older cousin who’d graduated last spring. The two boys got along great. The convo could have gone on for another hour if Brody’s phone hadn’t started buzzing in his pocket.
“That’s my brother, Tom,” Brody said. “He’s still got a truck full of my shit downstairs and he’s gonna have a heat stroke if I don’t hurry up.”
He was already headed for the door.
“Nice meetin’ you, man,” Brody said over his shoulder, and then he was gone, and Zane was standing alone in the middle of the room with his heart going a little faster than unpacking a desk drawer should have made it.
Zane liked him. That was the uncomplicated part. Brody was easy to talk to, quick with a joke, the kind of guy who made you feel like you’d known him longer than twenty minutes.
The rest of it Zane picked up in pieces over that first conversation and the ones that came after, the way you learn a new roommate…not all at once, but in the stuff that came out sideways while you were talking about something else.
Brody was from a small town about twenty miles out. His dad ran a construction company and coached football on the side. His family went to church services every Sunday without fail, and Brody talked about home in a way that made it clear he was pretty politically conservative.
Brody had made comments about “how things used to be,” and a joke about a gay guy on the wrestling team from two towns over that Zane didn’t love the sound of. Brody didn’t say any of it with malice. He said it the way you’d mention the weather, like it had never once occurred to him that anybody in the room might disagree, or might have a reason to.
Brody’s phone kept buzzing. He glanced at it, then stood up off the mattress and grabbed a fresh shirt off the top of one of his duffel bags, pulling it on, which Zane found himself absurdly disappointed about.
By the third night of orientation, Zane had learned two things about his roommate: (1) Brody was a horny dog and (2) Brody didn’t believe in wasting time.
It was about nine o’clock when Brody came back to the room trailing a girl Zane hadn’t met, laughing at something she’d said, already halfway out of his shirt before the door had even shut behind them.
“Hey, man, you mind—” Brody started, and didn’t really finish the question, because the answer was obviously going to be yes regardless of what Zane said.
“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Zane said, already grabbing his phone off the desk. “I’ll head out.”
“You’re a real one.” Brody clapped him on the shoulder on his way past, and the girl gave Zane a little wave that was somewhere between apologetic and not sorry at all.
“This is Kayla,” Brody said, like an afterthought. “We went to high school together.”
“Hey. Zane,” Zane said.
“Hi.” Kayla was already looking past him at Brody. She was clearly eager for some privacy with her new boy toy.
Zane grabbed his phone charger and let himself out.
He ended up next door, in 313, where Lydia and Emma kept their door open. He’d met them the first night, standing in line for a free swag giveaway, and they’d clicked fast, the way people did during orientation week when everybody was equally desperate to make new friends.
Emma was tall and loud and majoring in business management, same as Zane, while Lydia was still figuring things out and hadn’t decided on anything yet. Lydia was shorter and had bright ginger hair.
“He kicked you out already?” Emma said when Zane pushed the door open. She was cross-legged on her bed with her laptop balanced on a pillow. “It’s been like three days.”
“Second night in a row,” Zane said, dropping onto the end of Lydia’s bed. “I think I might just live here now.”
“We’ll charge rent,” Lydia teased. She had music going low off a speaker on her desk, and a stack of textbooks she clearly hadn’t opened yet.
They talked for a while about nothing in particular — the classes they’d registered for, which dining hall had the better cereal selection. Zane and Emma compared notes on the business core curriculum, groaning together about the accounting requirement neither of them wanted to take. Lydia mostly listened and threw in commentary from the sidelines, still very at peace with not having picked a major.
They’d been at it maybe ten minutes when the sounds started.
It came through the wall between the rooms, muffled but unmistakable — a headboard, knocking in a rhythm that picked up fast, and under it, a girl’s voice, high and loud and not even a little bit trying to be quiet about it.
“Ughhh…Holy shit! Aghhh…Brody you’re sooo big!”
Emma’s eyebrows went up. Lydia turned her head toward the wall like she could see through it.
“Oh my God,” Emma said.
The moaning kept going. Then a second voice under it — Brody’s, lower, steady grunt. The headboard picked up speed to match it.
“Is that—” Emma started laughing before she even finished the sentence. “Is that your room?”
“That’s my room,” Zane said. He put his face in his hands.
“Oh my god, they are not being subtle,” Lydia said.
Nobody muted the wall. The two voices braided together, hers climbing, his steady underneath, and the knocking against the wall got hard enough that Zane felt like he could’ve timed a stopwatch to it. It went on. And on.
The three friends tried to ignore it and continue hanging out. The screams of pleasure and the moaning continued. Long past the point where Zane would have expected it to taper off, it just kept going, faster if anything.
“Jesus,” Emma said, wiping under her eyes. “How is that still going?”
“They’re gonna break something,” Lydia said. “My bed’s shaking a little. Is your bed shaking?”
“I don’t want to think about my bed right now,” Zane said.
Lydia was laughing so hard, one hand pressed over her mouth. Emma had given up entirely and flopped backward onto her pillow.
“I hate this so much,” Zane said, and he was laughing too.
It finally started to wind down after what felt like a long time — the rhythm breaking, her voice going up into something sharper, his grunt landing heavier and slower until it stopped altogether, and then just quiet, and the three of them sat there in the sudden silence like the room itself was catching its breath.
“Well,” Emma said.
“I need to fricken switch rooms or something,” Zane said.
Lydia was still grinning, shaking her head slowly. “That track record checks out, at least.”
“What track record?”
“I went to high school with him.” Lydia rolled her eyes, the way you’d roll your eyes at weather you couldn’t do anything about. “Brody Kessler has been Brody Kessler since like ninth grade. Never dated a girl longer than 3 months without cheating on her. Not once. It was like a running joke by senior year. You’d hear some girl was ‘talking to Brody’ and everybody just started a countdown.”
“Damn,” Emma said.
“And the stories about him.” Lydia shook her head again. “I don’t know how much of it’s true, but people used to say he had an insane sec drive. Like five, six, seven times a day, easy. And whenever girls couldn’t keep up with him he’d call them a prude and get mad.”
“Seven times,” Emma repeated, like she needed to say it out loud to believe it.
“I have no idea if that’s real,” Lydia said. “But I believe it, honestly, based on what we just heard through a cinderblock wall.” She shook her head, half laughing, half genuinely annoyed. “And the worst part is it never mattered. Didn’t matter how bad his reputation got. Hoards of stupid pick-me girls still lined up for it. Every single year. ‘oH mY gAwD bRoDy KeSslEr’s *so* hOt,’ like that cancels out the rest of it.” She said the last part in a mocking little sing-song, rolling her eyes.
“God some people are so stupid,” Emma said.
Zane listened intently to Lydia’s story up until she mentioned Brody’s sex drive. Then his mind got stuck there. He couldn’t get the number out of his head.
The dude needed to nut 5 to 7 times. In a single day. Zane had just sat through what was apparently a single one of those times, and it had gone on long enough and loud enough to broadcast to the entire halway that Brody Kessler was fucking someone’s brains out.
*Well fuck. Guess I’m not gonna get much sleep this year* Zane thought to himself.
He excused himself to use the restroom. Then he locked himself in a stall and opened Grindr.
Zane’s cock had already swelled up to a full erection. He’d gotten aroused thinking about Brody, imagining his roomate naked and dripping sweat all over the girl he was fucking like a machine. Zane needed to get off.
He looked at the Grindr interface. TallHungKinkster was green.
Zane had been messaging him for two days. The photos were good. Blonde. Handsome. Late 20s. Might’ve said his name was Luc Simon.
A PhD student in economics, which Zane did not give a shit about except that it meant the guy had his own place in graduate housing and was not sharing a room with another 18 year old in a fucking dorm.
Zane’s cock was already hard from thinking about Brody. He did not wait around.
im horny as hell rn. dtf?
The reply came fast.
right now??
yeah. can you?
My roommate just left for the grocery store. He will be back in maybe an hour. You have to come now if you want this.
Zane looked at the location pin. The Graduate housing complex was about 20 minutes away if he walked it. He was already in athletic shorts and a cutoff tank. He could jog it in under ten. He replied:
omw
Zane gargled some mouthwash and then went out the side stairwell so he would not have to walk past 313 again. Emma and Lydia would ask where he was going. He texted them he decided to hang out with some friends in another dorm.
The night was still hot. The air sat on him as soon as the door shut. Zane started jogging.
He kept it easy at first and then picked it up.
His shorts stuck to his thighs by the second block. The cutoff tank was soaked through the middle of his chest before he hit the edge of campus.
Zane felt the heat in his face and the bounce of his still semihard cock against the mesh with every stride. He could not believe he was doing this. He also could not make himself turn around.
Graduate housing was a cluster of low brick buildings with bike racks and a dumpster that smelled like warm trash. Zane found the number, took the stairs two at a time, and knocked.
The door opened.
TallHungKinkster was about 6’6”. He had short, slightly curly blonde hair and a short blonde beard trimmed close to a sharp jaw. His eyes were sharp like a wolf’s. His shoulders were broad but not bulky. His chest was lean and athletic under a plain white t-shirt. His waist was narrow. He was built like a triathlete, not someone who spent all day in the weight room.
Zane was 5’9” and dripping. Sweat ran down his temple and into the neck of the tank. His dirty blond hair was dark with it.
“Hi,” Zane said. It came out breathless.
The guy smiled.
“You were fast. Come in.” He had a slight French accent, which Zane found sexy.
Zane stepped inside. The apartment was small and clean and a lot nicer than his room in Harlan Hall. AC was glitching though, so it wouldn’t cool the apartment lower than 75 degrees.
The guy shut the door and pulled Zane into a hug before Zane had time to wipe his face.
Zane’s cheek landed against a dry cotton shirt and a firm chest. The guy was warm and he smelled like clean soap.
“You are soaking,” the guy said into his hair. He laughed a little, low. “Mon Dieu. You ran the whole way.”
“Yeah. You said hurry.”
“I did.” He let go and looked Zane over, still smiling, still standing close enough that Zane had to tip his head back. “My name is Luc by the way. I don’t remember if I ever told you in the app.”
“Zane.”
“I know.” Luc’s eyes dropped to the wet tank and the shorts clinging to Zane’s thighs and then came back up. “You need to rinse off before we do anything. Quickly. The bathroom is there.”
Zane felt heat rush through his body that had nothing to do with the jog. He was getting excited about hooking up with Luc.
“Okay,” he said.
Luc pointed down the short hall. His hand was big. Maybe that means he has a big cock, Zane thought to himself.
“Go. I will wait.”
The water was cold and Zane liked it that way. He’d jogged the whole way over, 10 minutes in the evening heat, and his shirt had been soaked through by the time he hit the graduate housing lot. Now the cold ran down his back and off his shoulders and he braced both hands on the tile and let it hit him.
He shut the water off. His heart was still going, but not from the run.
He’d matched with Luc two days ago. They’d talked a little. Not much. Enough. Luc’s pictures had been good and his messages had been direct and Zane had said yes before he could talk himself out of it. This was only the third time he’d done anything like this with a guy. Previously, he’d enjoyed oral sex with a couple of guys on the DL, but it never went past oral.
Zane pushed the curtain back.
Luc was standing there holding out a towel for Zane.
The tall french stud was shirtless now. He hadn’t been when he’d opened the door. Luc’s chest was lean and cut, a light dusting of blonde hair across it. His shoulders were broad and his waist was narrow. He still had his pants on, low on his hips, and the trail of hair under his navel disappeared into them.
Luc was watching Zane with sharp, wanting eyes.
“Here,” Zane said, and reached for the towel in Luc’s hand.
Luc pulled it back an inch. “No?”
“No?”
“Five star service.” Luc’s accent turned it soft. He shook the towel open between his hands. “Let me.”
Zane laughed, short and nervous. “You’re gonna dry me off.”
“If you want.” Luc’s eyes came up to his. The smile stayed but the question under it was real. “Do you want?”
Zane’s throat was dry. He stepped out onto the mat. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”
Luc started with his hair. He worked the towel over Zane’s head, rough and easy. Then his neck. Then down over his shoulders, one and then the other, slow, the terry cloth dragging over the baseball jock’s nubile skin. Zane stood still and let him. He was aware of how close Luc was.
Luc dried the naked baseball player’s chest. His arms. He crouched a little to get down his back, and Zane felt the towel move over the muscle there, down to the small of it.
Luc then dried off Zane’s chiseled abs. Zane’s breath went shallow. Luc’s hands were unhurried and his eyes flicked up once, checking, and Zane held the look and didn’t move away. Zane found this incredibly erotic.
“You have a great body,” Luc said quietly. In a Matter-of-fact way. His hand slid down to rub Zane’s ass through the towel. “You squat a lot?”
“Yeah.” Zane’s voice came out rougher than he meant. “I hit leg day twice a week.”
“I can tell.” Luc said. He was watching Zane’s face the whole time. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” Zane said fast. Then, quieter: “I don’t want you to stop.”
Luc smiled. He dropped the towel. He was just gonna dry Zane with his hands now.
His hands went to Zane’s waist first. Both of them, warm, spanning him. Then one slid around and down and cupped Zane’s ass, and Zane made a sound he didn’t plan on. Luc’s palm was flat and slow. He squeezed, feeling the muscle there, and Zane’s hips shifted forward on their own.
“Easy,” Luc said. Not a command. Almost a laugh. His other hand came around the front.
Zane was already hard. He’d been hard since he got into the shower, maybe before, and when Luc’s fingers wrapped him he heard his own breath catch loud in the little room. Luc looked down at what he was holding and then back up at Zane’s face, and the smile got slower.
“7 inches?” Luc said.
“Yeah.” Zane’s face went hot. “About.”
“Good.” Luc stroked him once, root to tip, his thumb coming over the head, and Zane’s knees actually wavered. “It’s the perfect size. You’re a beatiful boy with a perfect cock..”
He kept one hand on Zane’s ass. He worked the cock slow with the other, not rushing, watching Zane’s face the whole time like he was reading it. Every time Zane’s breath hitched he did that thing again.
Luc was touching Zane like he was *learning* about his body. Zane had never had anyone bother to learn him.
Then Luc went down.
He lowered his handsome bearded face to Zane’s crotch. Controlled, still gripping Zane’s ass to hold him steady, and Zane felt the wet heat close over the head of his cock and his hand shot out and caught the edge of the sink.
“Oh—fuck.”
The two guys Zane hooked up with before had been fast and messy. Nervous, both of them, teeth and spit and over before it started. This was nothing like that. Luc took the head and worked it with his tongue, slow circles, pressure right under the ridge where Zane didn’t even know he wanted it. He wasn’t in a hurry. He held there, working just the top, and Zane’s thighs were already shaking.
Luc took more. He slid down half the shaft and back up, and his tongue never stopped moving, flat and firm on the underside. He pulled off to the tip and wrapped his lips firmly around Zane’s twitching cock head. He then applied suction, which made Zane’s stomach clench in pleasure. Then down again, further this time. His hand slid up the base to meet his mouth so every inch had heat on it. .
“God, where’d you learn to—” Zane couldn’t finish. His hips wanted to move and Luc let them, just a little, guiding with the hand on his ass, keeping him from going too far.
Luc pulled off. His mouth was wet and a line of drool ran down the frenchman’s chin.
“Hold still,” he said. “Let me.”
Then he took the whole thing in a single swallow.
Zane felt his cock slide back and hit something and keep going, into a tightness and heat he’d never felt, all the way down until Luc’s nose was against his bushy pubes. Nobody had ever done that. Nobody had come close. His hand tightened on the sink so hard it hurt.
“Holy shit—Luc—”
Luc held there. His throat worked around the head, swallowing, and the pressure of it made Zane’s whole body jerk. Then he drew back slow, all the way to the tip, breathed once through his nose, and did it again. Down to the root. Held. Zane’s mouth was open and no sound was coming out.
Luc set a rhythm. Deep and slow and total, taking all of him every time, his tongue still working on the way up and down, one hand steady on Zane’s ass and the other flat on his thigh where he could feel it shaking. He was watching Zane through it. Reading his face. Every time Zane’s breath went ragged Luc slowed down.
Zane’s head dropped back against the wall. His legs were trembling. He’d never been touched like this in his life and his body didn’t know what to do with it.
“Shitttt dudeee….I’m not gonna last,” he got out. “If you keep….goddamn, if you keep doing that think…I-I’m not gonna last.”
Luc pulled off just enough to speak, his hand taking over slow on the wet shaft. “That’s fine,” he said. His voice had gone rough now too. “I’m not done with you.”
Luc rose up off him in one smooth motion.
He didn’t say anything. He slipped a hand under Zane’s thighs and an arm around his back and he lifted, and Zane’s muscular 5’9” frame came up off the floor like he weighed nothing. Luc was surprisingly strong.
“Whoa—” Zane grabbed his shoulders on instinct. Then he wrapped his leg’s around Luc’s athletic, tall body.
“I’ve got you.” Luc was barely strained. The lean muscle in his arms had more in it than it looked. He held Zane against his chest, both of them still wet, and looked up at him with that sharp easy smile. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Zane was almost laughing. Almost. His heart was somewhere in his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Luc kissed him.
It was the first time all night their mouths had met and Luc took his time with it. Slow. Soft at first, just his lips, then more. His beard was rough against Zane’s face and his mouth was warm and Zane felt something come loose in his chest.
Zane kissed back. He didn’t have to think about it. Luc’s tongue found his and the kiss went deep and Zane moaned a low sound into it.
Luc carried him out of the bathroom like that, still kissing him, and Zane didn’t even track the room change. He came back to himself when his back hit the bed.
The mattress was cool under him. Luc came down over him slow, holding his own weight, one knee between Zane’s thighs. Luc was still in his pants. Meanwhile Zane was butt naked. He’d never been this exposed with a guy and he didn’t care, and that surprised him more than anything.
Luc kissed him again. Longer this time. He cupped the side of Zane’s face while he did it, thumb along his jaw, and the tenderness of that undid Zane worse than the towel had. The guys before had been fumbling and fast and always half-scared. Nobody had ever held his face. Nobody had ever kissed him like a lover.
Then Luc moved. He kissed the corner of Zane’s mouth, and his jaw, and down the line of his throat, and Zane’s whole spine lit up. A tingle ran the length of it. His body twitched under Luc’s.
“There,” Luc said against his neck, feeling it. “You like that.”
“Yeah.” It came out on a breath.
Luc found the spot under his ear and worked it slow, lips and then the flat of his tongue, and Zane’s hand came up and gripped the back of Luc’s neck. He wasn’t pulling him off. He was holding him there. Luc hummed low, pleased, and kept going.
He knew where to touch. That was the thing Zane couldn’t get over. Every place Luc’s hand went was a place Zane hadn’t known was wired to anything. He dragged his palm down Zane’s ribs and Zane shivered. He pressed his mouth to Zane’s collarbone and a tingle chased itself down to the base of Zane’s spine. His fingers found a nipple and rolled it slow and Zane’s back arched off the bed on its own.
“God,” Zane breathed. “How do you—”
“Shh.” Luc kissed the word off him. “Just feel it.”
Luc worked down the baseball stud’s sexy pecs, unhurried, licking and kissing, learning every reaction and coming back to whatever made Zane twitch hardest. When his tongue crossed the nipple his fingers had woken up, Zane’s whole body jolted and he gasped out loud.
Luc smiled against his skin. He tweaked the nipple again.
Zane groan, “oooohhh yeah that feels good, dude.”
It went on like that and Zane lost the thread of time. There was just Luc’s mouth and Luc’s hands and the slow warm build of it, wave after wave. Every caress ran a current up his spine. His body kept twitching under the attention, little jumps he couldn’t control, and each one made Luc slow down and draw it out longer, like he was in no hurry to get anywhere because here was already good.
Zane had never known it could be like this. Slow. Warm. Wanted. He’d thought sex with a guy was something you did fast in the dark and felt weird about after. This was nothing like that. This was Luc taking his mouth back up to Zane’s and kissing him deep while his hand stroked slow down Zane’s side, and Zane melting into it, tingling head to foot, so far into bliss he could barely breathe.
“You’re shaking,” Luc murmured into the kiss. He didn’t sound worried. He sounded pleased.
“I know.” Zane’s voice was wrecked. “I can’t—I don’t know why.”
“It’s good.” Luc kissed him again, slow. “Just let it be good.”
Luc knelt up.
He undid his pants slow, watching Zane watch him. Luc worked them down off his hips and his underwear with them and pushed them off the end of the bed, and then he just let Zane admire.
He was beautiful. Zane didn’t have another word for it and didn’t try to find one. Luc knelt there in the low light, lean and cut, that narrow waist and the deep lines of it running down. His cock was hard and full and long, 8.5 inches, uncut, the foreskin drawn back off a flushed head.
Below it sat a wild bush of blonde hair, thick and untrimmed, and heavy balls beneath.
“You can touch,” Luc said.
Zane reached up. He didn’t get the chance to close his hand around it before Luc caught his wrist, gentle, and moved himself forward instead, guiding the head to Zane’s mouth.
“Not with your hand. With your mouth. Kiss it first,” Luc said. “Just kiss.”
Zane did. He pressed his lips to the head, soft, and heard Luc breathe out above him. He kissed lower. Down the shaft, slow, his mouth open against the hot skin, learning the weight and heat of it. Luc’s hand settled in his hair, not pushing, just there. Zane kissed all the way down to the base, into the wild hair, and lower to the balls, heavy and musky and warm against his lips, and something in him went quiet and reverent doing it. He kissed his way back up the underside of the long cock. Luc’s hand tightened just slightly in his hair.
“Good,” Luc said, low. “Just like that.”
Zane took the head into his mouth.
And then he lost the patience he’d just found. He went at it the way he knew how, the only way he’d ever done it, fast and wild, too much all at once, sloppy and rushed like the guys before had been with him.
Luc drew back off him. Not annoyed. Patient.
“Woah woah…Slow down,” he said.
“Sorry—” Zane started.
“No. Come here.” Luc bent down over him and kissed him.
It was slow. It was the slowest, deepest kiss yet. Luc’s tongue moved against Zane’s, unhurried, sensual, caressing it, drawing it out, teaching it something without saying so. Zane went soft under it. When Luc finally pulled back, his eyes were sharp and warm.
“That,” Luc said. “That’s how you use your tongue. That’s how you use your mouth. Slow. Like you’re making love with it.” He straightened back up. “Try again.”
Zane tried again.
He went slow this time. He took the head and worked it the way Luc had just kissed him, tongue soft and unhurried under the ridge, no teeth, no rush. He circled it. He pressed flat where he’d liked it himself an hour ago and figured Luc would too.
Luc moaned. “Ahhhhh.”
It was low and real. Zane felt proud. He’d made that sound happen.
After a minute of that, Zane got braver. He tried to go deeper, sliding down the shaft, wanting to take it the way Luc had taken him. He got about halfway before the head hit the back of his throat and he gagged and pulled off, coughing.
Luc’s hand stroked through his hair. “Easy,” he said, with a chuckle “That part takes practice. You don’t have to do that tonight.”“Come up here,” Luc said. “Let me take care of you.”
He guided Zane back down onto the bed and put a hand on his chest. Zane went. He was learning to just go where Luc put him, to trust that wherever it was would be good.
Luc kissed on the forehead, then on the lips. He told Zane to open his mouth, and then Luc let a long line of drool drop into the younger man’s mouth. Zane swallowed the frenchman’s spit, pretending it was his cum.
Then Luc moved down. He kissed Zane’s throat, and his chest, taking his time at the nipples again because he knew now what that did to Zane, and Zane whimpered.
Down his stomach. Zane’s defined abs jumped under his mouth. Lower, kissing the crease of his hip, the top of his thigh, everywhere but where Zane was hard and aching, until Zane was breathing in short pulls and gripping the sheets.
“Please, dude…come on…quit teasing me….please suck on my cock again. I need it so fucking bad.”
Luc was not planning on sucking Zane’s cock again. Not yet. He was going to give Zane his first ever rim job.
Luc pushed Zane’s thighs up and back, gentle, spreading his ass open, and put his mouth on the beautiful, tight rosebud.
Zane made a sound he’d never made before.
Nobody had ever done this. And now Luc’s tongue was on his virgin asshole, warm and soft and wet, and the sensation was so far past anything Zane had felt that his whole body seized and shook. A current shot up his spine and broke over the back of his skull. His hands twisted in the sheets.
“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Oh my god, Luc—”
Luc worked in sensual, broad strokes of his tongue, and Zane felt every one of them light up nerves he didn’t know he had. The heat of Luc’s mouth, the softness, the patient wet pressure — it rolled through the college stud in waves, each one higher than the last. His thighs were shaking on Luc’s shoulders. His cock lay hard against his stomach, leaking, completely ignored, and he didn’t even care, because this was better.
Luc pressed his tongue flat and slow and Zane’s hips rolled down into it on their own. He heard himself moaning and couldn’t stop. He’d never been loud in his life.
“That’s it,” Luc murmured against him. “You like that?”
“Yeah—god—yeah—”
Luc kept on. He brought a hand up and wet his fingers, and after a while Zane felt one press against him, slow, circling where Luc’s mouth had loosened him.
“Breathe,” Luc said. “Let me in. Push out like you’re going to take a shit.”
Zane breathed. He made himself go soft the way Luc’s voice was telling him to, and the finger slid in, slow, so slow, and Zane’s whole body lit from the inside. It didn’t hurt. Luc gave him time and it didn’t hurt at all. It just filled him with a warm deep pressure.
“Uhhhh….yeah….oh fuck I feel you inside me…brooooo….gahhh that feels good…”
Luc worked his finger in and out, watching Zane’s youthful handsome face contort. He curled it, searching, and then he found something and pressed and Zane’s spine arched clean off the bed.
“There,” Zane gasped. “Oh fuck — there — what is that—”
“Right there.” Luc pressed again, and Zane’s whole body jolted, tingles racing out to his fingertips, his toes curling against the sheets. “Don’t tense. Just enjoy it. I’ve got you.”
Zane felt dizzy with pleasure. He’d never felt so taken care of. Luc knew exactly what he was doing, every touch landing exactly where Zane needed it before Zane even knew he needed it there, and all Zane had to do was lie back in it and let the waves of pleasure keep coming.
His body wouldn’t stop moving. Little shudders kept rolling through him, each press of Luc’s finger and stroke of his tongue setting off another, and he lay there gasping and moaning and shaking, so deep in pleasure he’d lost the edges of himself, tingles running up and down his spine over and over, completely undone and not wanting it to ever stop.
“Luc,” he breathed. It was the only word he had left. “Luc—”
“I know,” Luc said softly, and kept going.
Luc drew back slow. Zane whined at the loss of it, actually whined, and felt a bit embarrassed hearing himself whine like a bitch.
“I want to try something,” Luc said. He came up over Zane, resting on an elbow, close. “Tell me no if it’s not for you. That’s a real no, okay? I’ll stop the second you say it.”
“What is it?”
“I want to tie your hands.” Luc’s thumb traced Zane’s wrist. “Just your wrists. Up above your head.” He watched Zane’s face. “Yeah or no. Both are fine.”
Zane’s heart kicked. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s — yeah. I think that’d be hot.”
Luc smiled. “If you want to stop, you say stop. Doesn’t matter how far in we are. We stop. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” Luc kissed him, quick and warm. “Perfect.”
The sexy frenchman reached down off the side of the bed and came back with a length of some smooth fabric, folded for width. He’d had it ready. He gathered Zane’s wrists together above his head, gentle, and bound them, checking the give with a finger under the fabric.
“Too tight?”
“No. It’s good.”
Luc ran the loose end up to the slats of the headboard and tied it off. He tugged it once to test it. Zane pulled against it on instinct and it held, and his cock jumped hard against his stomach at the feeling of giving up control.
Luc saw. Of course he saw. “Oh, you like that,” he said, low and pleased.
“Yeah.” Zane’s face was hot. “Apparently.”
“Good.” Luc kissed his throat. “You’re such a horny, dirty little slut for me.”
And then he went back down, and Zane had nothing to hold onto anymore, nothing to do with his hands, no way to touch or grip or steer. All he could do was lie there tied to the board and take it. It should have made him nervous. It did the opposite. Something in him let go completely.
Luc put his mouth on the virgin stud’s asshole again, slow, and Zane’s arms pulled uselessly at the fabric and he moaned out loud. He couldn’t reach down. He couldn’t do anything but feel it, exactly like Luc had said, and the not-being-able-to somehow made every sensation twice as sharp.
Luc worked him with his tongue, warm and patient, and slid a finger back in, and Zane arched into it, wrists straining. Luc found the prostate again and pressed slow and Zane’s whole body seized against the ties.
“Fuckkkkk — Luc—”
“I know.” Luc worked the finger in a slow rhythm, curling, pressing, his mouth still on him. He added a second and Zane took it easy now, opened up and gasping. “You’re doing so well. You’re such a good little tied-up jock whore for me. Just let it happen.”
Zane’s hips rolled down against Luc’s hand on their own. His cock lay hard and dripping against his stomach and neither of them had touched it and Zane started to realize, dimly, through the fog, that he wasn’t going to need it touched.
“Ughhh — Luc — I think I’m gonna—”
“From this?” Luc pressed harder, slow and deep, right on the spot. “Yeah. Do it. Cum on yourself like a pathetic horny boy-whore. Shoot all over yourself.”
“Oh shit—” Zane’s wrists yanked at the ties. “Mhhh — oh fuck, dude—”
Zane couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. It rose up his spine, a long wave that kept building past where any wave should, his whole body shaking against the ties, his wrists pulling at the board.
“I’m cumming — Luc, I’m cumming, dude—” His voice cracked. “Aghhh — fuck—”
Luc continued thrusting the two fingers inside his asshole. Fucking in and out. And then the orgasm broke over Zane.
“FUCK — cumming, I’m cumming—” He came untouched, cock jerking against his stomach in long spurts, spilling all over himself. “Ohhhh — oh my god—”
Luc kept working him slow through every pulse of it.
“CUMMING—” Zane’s back arched clean off the bed, tied hands straining. “Ohhhhhh—”
It went on and on. He shook through it, moaning, wrecked, and Luc didn’t stop until Zane was completely wrung out, twitching, gasping, tied and spent and covered in himself.
“There,” Luc said softly, easing his hand back, kissing the inside of Zane’s thigh. He looked up at him, at the wreck he’d made, and smiled. “You’re such a good little cumslut. Couldn’t hold it in, can you? You just love getting your holes stretched, right?”
Zane couldn’t even answer. He lay there tied to the headboard, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling, feeling more undone than he’d ever been in his life.
Luc came up over him slow, still between his tied-open thighs. There was cum everywhere. On Zane’s stomach, his chest, one drop caught high on his nipple.
Luc bent down and licked all the cum on and around the nipple, and Zane shivered at the tongue on the oversensitive skin.
“Open,” Luc said.
Zane blinked up at him. Then he opened his mouth.
Luc held the cum on his tongue and leaned over him and let it drool down slow, a thin string of it, into Zane’s open mouth. Zane took it. He’d been fed cum like this before but he didn’t hesitate, swallowing his own taste.
“Good,” Luc breathed. “Again.”
He scooped another drop off Zane’s chest with his tongue and did it a second time, bending close, letting it fall from his mouth into Zane’s. Zane swallowed that too. His face was hot and his heart was going. This was so sexy and dirty.
Then Luc drew his fingers out of Zane, smiled down at the tied up jock. Luc then put his fingers into his own mouth, tasting the college boy’s asshole.
Zane’s eyes went wide.
Luc chucked.. “Don’t worry….You’re very clean. You taste delicious. My delicious, dirty, college boy.” He leaned down and kissed the inside of Zane’s knee. “I’d eat your ass all night if you’d let me.”
Zane didn’t have a single word.
Luc sat back. He ran his palm through the mess still cooling on Zane’s abs, gathering it up, and Zane watched Luc take his own hard cock in that slick hand and stroke it slow, using Zane’s cum to work himself wet, root to head, until the entire cock was glistening with cum.
He looked down at Zane, tied and spent and watching. His voice was even. “Have you ever bottomed before?”
Zane shook his head. “No.”
“No….” Luc repeated softly. He stroked himself slowly. “Do you want to…bottom? For me. May I take your virginity tonight?”
Zane’s whole body was still buzzing, wrung out and somehow already wanting more, and he looked up at Luc. His handsome, bearded face. He was entranced by those sharp, bright eyes on the older man.
And there was no hesitation left anywhere in him.
“Fuck yeah,” Zane said. “Yeah…god, yes. I want to. Luc I want you to fuck the shit out of me.”
Luc smiled. He shifted forward, one hand guiding himself, the slick head coming to rest exactly where his mouth and fingers had already opened Zane up and left him aching.
“Then breathe,” Luc said. “And let me in.”
Hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. I plan to have a bit of a slow burn where it takes a while before things escalate between Brody and Zane. As things slowly build between the two jock roomates, Zane will explore his sexuality with other men.
The story will probably start a bit more vanilla and gradually get dirtier and raunchier, with increasing amounts of domination and humiliation elements as the story progresses. As planned, Brody will eventually turn Zane into one of his conquests and completely dominate and own him. But that will probably take several chapters to build to.
Please let me know of your thoughts so far in the comments. Or you can email me directly at [email protected].
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
