Boy meets turning point effect
He peered from the bushes. There Kade stood, dressed in his Cowboy Carter gear, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He pulled a vial of ketamine from his pocket and began to prepare the needle. The black gloves on his hands prevented traces of DNA from being left behind. Once the needle was ready, he moved quietly and carefully toward Kade.
He moved like a predator about to strike its prey. There was just a couple of feet between him and the intended victim. Just as he was about to snatch Kade from behind, someone called out to the young man.
“Kade?” Marcel called his name as he ran up to him.
“Hey,” Kade spoke as he looked up from his phone.
Marcel’s locs bounced with his body movements. His dark skin glowed as if he held the secrets of the universe. He licked his fat lips as he stopped in front of Kade.
“So, I asked Sam if something was going on between you two, and he said no because I wanted to ask you out. But I don’t want to waste my time. Are you into Sam?”
Kade blushed. “He’s been helping me work through something, and I just liked the idea of someone liking me, but I’m not into him.”
Marcel smiled. “Okay, cool. So, you wanna go Cowboy Carter it up with me tonight?”
Kade nodded his head with excitement. “Hell yeah. I’d like that a lot.”
Marcel held his hand out, and Kade took it. They walked away both dressed and ready for a night that was sure to be filled with big moments.
***
Emory stepped into the venue hall. “BODYGAURD” by Beyoncé blasted through the speakers. Eli had gone above and beyond. Red, white, and blue colors gave the space life. A mechanical bull was set up in the back corner. Tables that celebrated American pride, queer pride, and diversity topped it all off. Everyone was dressed in their best rodeo/cowboy outfit.
“Wow,” came Peter’s voice from the side.
Emory turned toward with a smile. His eyes roamed over Peter. The cutey had gone with a simple white t-shirt that hugged him perfectly, his rugged blue jeans fit his thighs, tanned color boots to strip out any thought of trying to be fashionable, and a basic brown Stetson.
“Simplicity suits you well, Peter Nicholas Cassadine,” Emory complimented him.
Peter laughed. “Not really big on the cowboy thing, but you look really good.”
Emory chuckled and gave a quick spin. The man was dressed. Long gone was that once shy boy who was unsure of himself and his sexuality. The person who stood before Peter was someone bold and confident in his sexuality and confident in his looks. He stood there in a black mesh tank top that showed every bit of his body, the khaki denim hugged every curve of his hips, lifted his ass, and squeezed the bulge that showed off his manhood. The diamonds that went down the side of his thighs sparkled; his red boots gave him height and flare. Lastly, the red cowboy hat on his head hid his curls but gave his face card a dangerous degree of edge and mystery. FUCKING HOT!
“Tonight we’re gonna get you laid,” he told Peter.
“Really? That’s the plan?”
“Hell yeah. Birthday sex. I got some in New York. I honestly forgot how good sex was. You gotta get some ass.”
Peter smiled. “What am I going to do with you, Emory?”
“Keep me in your life,” he said quickly.
Peter’s eyes sparkled. Emory quickly stopped smiling, and they stared at one another as if there was something completely unspoken between them. Peter opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the announcement of the guest of honor.
“YA YA” by Beyonce took over, and Eli made the entrance of a lifetime with Jacobi on their arms. Dressed in all red and Jacobi in all black, they walked with confidence and sex appeal. Jacobi walked off to the side, and Eli took a solo stroll. Their hips swayed, and with a spin and a dip, they began to move as if they were indeed Beyoncé.
“Your friend loves an entrance,” Peter whispered.
“They love attention,” Emory answered. “No other way to explain it.” Emory instantly began to cheer Eli on as they finished out their dance number.
Eli turned toward Jacobi, and they shared a sweet kiss. It was refreshing to see how far Jacobi had come in his sexuality and his devotion to Eli. Emory turned just as “RIIVERDANCE” began to play, and there he stood with those piercing eyes that stole every part of Emory’s soul time and time again.
Sam thought he knew how he’d act the moment he saw Emory again. Nothing prepared him for the reality. He couldn’t move. He was frozen. He longed for him. His heart ached for the black beauty. His mind raced with millions of thoughts. He found himself lost in Emory’s gaze, and then Emory turned away from him, and the spell was broken.
“I’m gonna get something to drink,” Emory told Peter. “Go get laid.”
Emory walked across the room and grabbed a drink. His heart fluttered with every swallow. He wanted to turn his feelings off. He looked around the room. Eli and Jacobi danced together with this joy he found himself jealous of. Kade was with Marcel, and they seemed to be smitten. Their dance was innocent and fun. Everywhere he turned, there was a couple enjoying the love and excitement of one another, and the man he’d give up the world for wanted nothing to do with him.
“I was so nervous you’d say no,” Marcel said as he danced with Kade.
“You’re really cute. I’d be crazy to say no. I thought my college experience was just going to be me being hurt and feeling lost the entire time.”
Marcel shook his head. “Nah. Stick with me. I’ll make sure you have the best experience ever. If you let me.”
“I’m willing if you go slow with me. Something happened to me, and I’m still learning how to cope with it.”
Someone yelled: SQUARE DANCE! “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” began to play. Peter quickly grabbed Emory, and so it began, and boy did it begin.
Boots shuffled on the wooden floor. People were laughing, spinning, dust kicked up like glitter in the warm lights. Emory stood on the edge of the circle. He tried to blend in, but it was impossible with every glance from Sam.
Sam was across the circle. He wanted to pretend he wasn’t looking at him, but it was no use. The man failed miserably as it. Emory stepped in with a smiling Peter. Hands clasp, Emory spins, the world a blur of denim and heat. He meets Sam’s eyes for just a second as his rotation brings him around. Sam’s jaw tightened, and he spun someone else with too much force as he tried to shake off the way his heart had just caught fire.
CHANGE PARTNERS!
Everyone shifts. Emory slid into the next parter, who just so happened to be Kade. Kade’s eyes flickered everywhere. Sam moved into his next parter, Peter. They all drifted closer and orbited one another. Sam couldn’t stop staring at Emory.
DO-SI-DO- WITH YOUR CORNER!
Emory brushed past someone, he stepped backwards, turned around, and Sam was right there. He was right, and he smelled like everything Emory wanted and needed in life. His eyes roamed over Sam. His tight dark denim hugged all the places that Emory loved to touch on him. That belt with the big Lone Star buckle and the plaid button-down green, red, and gold choked his arms. The top three buttons were undone, and the sweat dripped down his smooth chest. The dark tan colored cowboy hat sat on his head, and his dark, wavy hair crept underneath the sides. SEXY AF!
They didn’t touch. The air between them crackled. Emory swallowed hard. Sam’s fingers flexed like he wanted to reach out. Before he could, they were pulled apart from one another and lost in the spinning crowd. Sam looked back over his shoulder, and Emory looked away as if he were afraid to have been caught looking.
SWING YOUR NEW PARTNER! HOLD ON TIGHT NOW!
Sam turns. He was ready for his new partner…another stranger. The crowd shifted, the circle rotated, and bodies realigned. He crashed chest-first into Emory.
Not gentle.
Not accidental.
Not avoidable.
Emory’s hand gripped his waist to steady him, instinct before thought. Sam inhaled sharply. Emory stopped breathing altogether. Everyone around them kept dancing, but the two of them were suspended in something else entirely.
AND SWING!
Sam hesitated for a half a heartbeat. It was just long enough to show fear, the longing, the apology that burned behind his eyes. Emory shifted away. Sam quickly wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him into the spin. Their bodies moved together like muscle memory.
Emory’s curls brushed Sam’s jaw.
Sam’s breath ghosted across Emory’s cheek.
Their boots scraped the floor in the same rhythm that they used to share in bed, in whispers, and it life. It was dizzy. It was tender. It was too much and not enough.
The swing ended, but neither one of them let go of the other. The music began to soften for a measure. The room was still loud but distant.
Sam’s voice was low, barely a thread over the music.
“Thor.”
Emory’s throat tightened. He searched for a word to say. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Emory quickly pulled it out, hoping for a quick distraction to help him gather his thoughts. Another IG notification that led to a video, and it wrecked Emory inside. Kade on his knees with Sam’s cock in his mouth in the middle of an open field.
Emory quickly shoved the phone back in his pocket. He looked at Sam with all the devastation one could muster. He turned and walked away. Emory found a bathroom. He closed the door and snatched the hat off his head. Every part of him wanted to break down and cry. He wouldn’t allow himself to crash. He stared at himself in the mirror.
“Okay, Em, fuck ‘em up.”
He turned the water and wet his curls. The water caused them to hang seductively.
SHOWTIME!
The lights went down, and then they came back up red. The DJ asked everyone to clear the dance floor for a special performance.
“My name is Cowboy Emory,” Emory announced from the darkness. “I need your help tonight to celebrate another very special friend. Can we please bring Cowboy Peter Cassadine to the center? And get him a chair, boys.”
Someone took Peter by the arm and brought him to the center. Another person placed a chair in the center for him to sit in.
“Peter had a birthday, and we need to make sure my friend gets that birthday sex, and as someone who has had the pleasure to ride him twice, trust me when I say he’s a ride worth taking.”
The room erupted with cheers. Peter’s mouth dropped, and his face turned red.
“What the fuck is he doing? “Eli jumped up from their seat.
“Don’t ruin your night, “Jacobi said as he grabbed Eli’s arm.
Eli looked down at Jacobi. “He’s taking the attention from me.”
“I hope you’re ready. Cowboy Peter time to strike a match and light up this juke joint. Hangman.” Emory appeared from the dark. The red spotlight found him. “If you like the show, throw some money to my friend.”
The beat dropped to “TYRANT.” Emory rolled his shoulders with molten grace. His body snapped into rhythm like he was born from it. He moved across the floor, and the people behind him lost their minds. In honor of Prince, he had cut the back of his jeans…gorgeous chocolate ass cheeks hung out for all to see and feel.
He stepped between Peter’s knees deliberately and slowly. He lowered himself just enough that their breaths mingled. His hands slid up Peter’s chest, controlled, electric, and confident. Peter inhaled sharply. Emory’s hips circled once. It was fluid and devastating.
He took Peter’s hands and placed them on his bare ass cheeks. The crowd gasped collectively. Peter’s eyes locked on Emory. His mouth hung open as his cock throbbed against the fabric of his jeans and underwear.
Emory moved with the hypnotic, liquid confidence dancers find when they’ve become powered by heartbreak. His thighs brushed Peter’s as he straddled him. He pulled their bodies close. It was sensual, artistic, and punishing.
He dragged a finger down Peter’s jawline. He spun around, back toward him, and lowered himself in a slow grind that looked like silk melting over a hot stone. Every movement was a fucking declaration.
Across the room, Sam’s heart cracked in real time. His fingers curled into fists. His chest rose and fell fast. His eyes never blinked. Eli watched with rage. They wanted to scream and shout at Emory for taking the night away.
People tossed dollar bills at Sam and Peter. They were mesmerized. Emory wasn’t just dancing. He was performing. Reclaiming his power. He wanted Sam to feel every inch of distance that had come between them,
Emory held his hand out, and right on queue, someone handed him a glass of water. He tossed his head back and poured water into his mouth. He dropped his head over Peter’s. He squeezed the man’s jaw. Peter opened his mouth, and Emory squirted the water into Peter’s mouth.
The bridge hit, Emory pressed fully against Peter’s chest. He rolled and rocked his body back and forth across him. As the final beat hit, Emory slid backward off Peter’s lap. He rose in one elegant, punishing motion. He placed a slow kiss on Peter’s lips.
The crowd ERUPTED. Peter exhaled like he’d survived something holy. Sam looked like he’d been gutted. The next song slipped in like warm honey. Soft. Sultry. Slow. Emory wasn’t done.
“One more, Cowboy Peter.”
He pulled Peter to his feet as “LEVII’S JEANS” seduced the room. They stepped closer. Their hands lingered on their waists. Their hips swayed. The crowd went silent. A touch here and there set Peter on fire. His hand slowly rolled down Emory’s back and then onto that soft, fat ass.
Marcel whispered to Kade, “Sam isn’t going to take this well.”
“Emory is free to do whatever he wants. Sam broke up with him,” Kade responded.
“Maybe,” Marcel agreed. “But he still loves the dude, and if it were me seeing the man I love dancing like that with my ex-boyfriend…the crash out would be valid.”
The song ended, and Emory stepped away from Peter. He mouthed the words: Happy birthday.
He turned and began to walk away. Sam watched with his jaw tight, breaths uneven, and his heart pounding. The DJ cut the track. A soft hum as the beat slithered through the room like temptation. The opening line of “DAUGHTER” hit. It was low, haunting, seductive, and defiant.
Suddenly, Sam walked towards him. His boots thudded against the wooden floor. Emory felt him. He didn’t step back and didn’t break eye contact. The crowd parted as if they felt something was about to happen. Sam stopped in front of him and offered a single hand. Emory stared at it and then placed his palm against Sam’s.
Sam pulled Emory in with a sudden and powerful motion. Their chest nearly collided. It was electric, pure, sharp, and magnetic. The room held its breath.
Emory gasped, but didn’t pull away. Their bodies aligned perfectly. Almost too perfect, too practiced, too familiar, too intimate for two people who were trying to pretend they no longer wanted each other.
Sam’s hand slid to Emory’s waist. It was firm, confident, and angry. Emory gripped Sam’s shoulder. His grip was tight, shaking, and furious.
They stepped with heat, precision, and pain. Sam spun Emory sharply. Emory’s curls whipped across his cheek. His hand dragged down Sam’s arm as he turned. His nails grazed Sam lightly…not to hurt, but because he didn’t know how to let go.
The lyrics poured over them gasoline. Emory stepped back into Sam’s space. Their chest brushed once again. Their lips were inches apart, but close enough to feel the heat of their breaths. Emory felt Sam’s heartbeat slam against his ribs over and over.
Sam whispered, barely audible, “Why’d you dance like that with him?”
Emory whispered back, “Why didn’t you trust me?”
Sam gripped Emory’s waist tighter. Anger and longing flickered in his eyes. Emory pressed closer. He wanted Sam to feel every part of him as defiance and heartbreak flickered in his eyes.
They pivoted, sharp, and sliced through space. Emory dragged his leg along Sam’s. It was sensual but a controlled movement that drew gasps from the watching crowd. Sam dipped Emory backward suddenly…so low his curls touched the floor.
Sam pulled him back up too fast and too close. Their noses brushed. Emory slid his hand down Sam’s bare chest. He stopped right over his heart. Sam caught Emory’s hand and held it there.
“Do you still love me?” Sam breathed.
“Why do you care?” Emory shot back.
Sam spun him again. Jealousy, grief, and passion burned through every step. Emory followed. He matched him perfectly with a push, a pull, a twist, and a collision. Sam’s thigh slid between Emory’s during a turn. Emory stepped into it, smooth and deliberate. Sam inhaled sharply. Emory exhaled.
They were dancing. They were fighting. They were loving. They were breaking apart. They were begging without words.
The song built to its climax. Sam grabbed Emory’s jaw gently but with urgency. He forced their eyes to meet. Emory’s eyes shimmered. They were wet, furious, and devastated.
Sam’s voice cracked, “How can I trust you when you behave like this?”
Emory whispered, “Maybe it has more to do with I’m not Kade.”
Anger fluttered in Sam’s heart. He spun Emory into the final dip. It was violent in emotion. It was beautiful in execution. He held him there as the crowd erupted in applause. They stayed frozen in that pose. Sam breathed hard. Emory trembled in his hands. Their foreheads nearly touched.
“You’ll never dance with anyone the way you dance with me,” Sam whispered.
“And you’ll never love anyone the way you love me…even when you hate me,” Emory said gently.
Sam frowned. “Then we’re both fucked.”
“Indeed.”
The music cut, and reality rushed in. Sam released him slowly. Emory stepped back as their hands separated. Their tango had come to an end. Emory walked away. Sam looked around. All eyes were on him. He quickly followed behind Emory. Eli followed, and so did Kade, Jacobi, and Peter.
***
“You bitch!” Eli shouted as they rounded the corner behind Emory.
Emory quickly spun around. “What?”
They were all there, and they were all staring at him as if he had become the villain in everyone’s story.
“You heard me. Just this one time, something was about me, and you had to ruin my night and turn into another Emory saga with your nasty ass freak session in the middle of the dance floor with Peter.”
Emory gawked. “You’re serious right now?”
“Em, it was pretty foul that you hijacked the night,” Jacobi added.
“He can’t help it,” Eli shouted. “He’s a shitty friend.”
“I’m a shitty friend?”
“That’s not fair,” Peter jumped in.
“No one asked you, Peter, “Sam yelled. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would be happening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Sam?” Peter asked as he stepped forward.
“It means that if you hadn’t met me last year, I wouldn’t be here. You two would still be together. You know what, I am a lot of things. I am angry, hurt, sad, depressed, and ALONE! I’m not a shitty friend. That award goes to Kade and you, Eli. Sam dropped me, and you two bitches picked him in the end. You were my friends, and Kade, you sucked his dick after you fuckers lied to me for weeks about there being nothing going on between the two of you.”
Sam’s eyes widened in shock. “16 CARRIAGES” began to play.
“Don’t look so surprised. When you let bitches suck your dick in public, someone is bound to see it. I got the message on Instagram while we were out there, Square Dancing like the fucking Brady Bunch family.”
“Emory,” Kade began. “I’m so sorry.”
“FUCK YOU! And FUCK you too, Eli. From the moment I met you, I’ve been a good friend, even when you made me feel bad for my politics. You made me question my parents' support when they actually were waiting for me to come out. You knew I was sleeping with Jacobi and that I liked him a little, and you fucked him behind my back. My two friends literally have fucked me over.”
“You are such a victim, Emory. I’ve been your sounding board as you spread your ass from guy to guy on campus. First Peter, then Jacobi, then Kade, and then Sam. Now we’re back to Peter. You have no self-respect for anyone. You’re still the same confused ass you were on day one.” Eli screamed.
“Only one of us is confused here, and it’s not me. So, pick a fucking gender and stick to it because this whole nonbinary thing is just as sick and twisted as you are.”
Sam shouted, “EMORY!”
“Fuck you,” Eli yelled as he slapped Emory across the face.
Emory quickly charged at Eli. Sam caught and held him back. Emory kicked and yelled. He wanted to fight. The blood in his veins boiled. The anger in his heart burned.
“Get off me,” he screamed.
Sam put him down. “Stop. Don’t hit him.”
“All you had to do was trust me. I never cheated on you. I pray to God that the day you find out I was innocent that someone sends me a photo of your stupid ass face. FUCK ALL OF YOU!”
He turned and walked away from them. Everyone turned and began to go their separate ways. Peter looked at Sam in disbelief.
“You know he’s not me, right? Emory loves you. He wouldn’t hurt you, and if he did, doesn’t he at least deserve a second chance? Look how many you gave me.”
“Maybe that’s why I don’t know how to get it over because I wasted so many passes on you.”
“What does your heart tell you?” Peter asked, confidently.
“That he loves me and he that he’d never hurt me.”
“Your heart never said that about me, and it was right then. Your heart is right now. Go find him.”
***
Marcel and Kade entered the room together. They were laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
“I think we should finish the party here,” Marcel told him.
He put on “II HANDS II HEAVEN.” They began to dance a slow dance. He wrapped his arms around Kade’s tender body. Kade’s body just melted in Marcel’s warm and loving embrace.
Back at the party, Eli and Jacobi danced together under the spotlight. Peter found himself alone, posted against the wall. Across the room, a blond head cutie kept stealing glances at him. He walked out of the party. There was somewhere else he needed to be.
***
Emory found himself near the edge of campus. He sat under the stars. His heart broken and his soul shattered. A noise from the bushes and trees startled him. He stood up. A figure emerged from the shadows. The man’s face slowly revealed itself under the stars. Emory instantly smiled at the sight of Peter.
“I thought you might want some company,” Peter said as he took a seat next to him.
The music from the venue hall could faintly be heard across the campus. For a beat, there was just thick silence between the two heartbroken men.
“Thank you for sticking up for me back there. Means a lot.”
Peter smiled sheepishly. “Guess I’m not such a bad person after all. Emory, when you danced with me, was that for me or was that for him?”
Emory ran his fingers through his thick curls. “Both. I wanted to do something with impact, but at the same time, I wanted to do something for you. You tried to save me in Mexico.”
Peter snapped his head at Emory. His heart raced as he waited for the next words to be spoken.
“I don’t remember everything, but I remember the words you said to me because you figured I wouldn’t remember them. I knew you weren’t a bad person; you just did shitty things.”
A tear rolled down the side of Peter’s face. “I don’t like to do shitty things. My old man was verbally abusive. I grew up poor. Nothing I ever did was good enough. When I came out as gay my freshman year of high school, I definitely didn’t win son of the year. I got overlooked a lot, and something happened 10th grade. I was able to bag a baddie.”
“Sam?” Emory asked even though he knew the question.
“Yeah. Sam liked me, and he made me visible to people who used to overlook me.” Peter wiped the tears from his eyes. “Suddenly, I was someone, and I fucked around. I had options, and my old man fucked around on my mom, and I thought that was how it was supposed to be. Sam forgave me every time. Then we hit a rough phase, and I met this quiet, reserved, timid boy who was scared of his truth. There was something about you that I just liked. I thought about you every day after that. Only I couldn’t break up with Sam. My old man was proud of me for getting in good with the Horton family. They are loaded.”
“I see. Your dad emotionally manipulated you, and then you turned around and did the same thing to Sam,” Emory pieced it together.
“Don’t forget you. You were right. I wanted you, and I wanted you badly. When Sam told me that he was with you, it killed me inside. He had gotten what I was too afraid to go for. I was afraid of disappointing my old man. So, I tried to just get Sam back. I’m not afraid anymore. He knows now that Sam is gone from my life. This last month of just us hanging out and having fun confirmed what I knew all along.”
Emory swallowed hard. “What?”
“I’m crazy about you. I fucked up a lot in the beginning, but I won’t fuck any anymore. I’ve been doing the work, and I’ll do whatever else you need me to do. I want you!”
“Peter Cassadine, you know I’m still in love with him, right?”
“I know. I just had to tell you.”
“It’s going to take me some time to get over him…but I’m willing.”
Peter smiled. “Really?”
“I did follow you across the country. There was something about you. I just don’t want to get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you. I swear to God, Peter, if you hurt me…”
“I won’t. When the time is right, I’ll be who you need me to be.”
“What is it with me and white boys? How did you pull the queer out of me?”
They both laughed innocently. For all the crap Peter had pulled in the beginning, one thing was true: Emory had seen something in him. The whole reason he came to the school was to be with Peter.
Their eyes caught one another. The moonlight reflected in their faces. Then they leaned into one another. Their lips touched, and they began to kiss. Peter’s heart screamed for more. Heat rushed through them. The sky lit up with red, white, and blue fireworks. Leave it to Eli to have fireworks for his birthday.
Emory pulled away. He stood up and held his hand out. Peter took it, and he pulled him to his feet.
“Nothing official till I have him out of my system, but I did promise to get you birthday sex.”
Peter bit his bottom lip. “Thank you, God!”
***
“JUST FOR FUN” played in the distance. Sam stepped off the elevator and made his way down the hall. As he walked down the hall, he kept staring at his phone screen. His eyes were on Emory’s contact info. His mind kept replaying Peter’s words. A text from the unknown number came through. He stopped walking and opened the message. It read: Look Up, my prince.
Sam instantly felt a creepy chill run down his spine. He slowly lifted his head up. Fear washed over his face as he came face-to-face with him. A knot formed in the pit of Sam’s stomach.
“You?”
“It’s me, Sammy. I finally got you alone and away from them. It took a lot of work, but I did it for us.” The voice was calm and chilling.
Sam stammered, “Wha-how-wha-what are you talking about? Why are you here?” his heart raced with every word spoken.
He smiled almost wickedly. “I came back for you. For us. I love you, but I had to get him out of the way. You were too attached to him.”
“WHO?”
“EMORY,” he yelled.
Sam's mouth dropped. “What did you do to him?”
“I played with his mind in Mexico. Gave him something to bring the rage out of him, and then I got him drunk.” He answered truthfully.
“Did you rape him?”
“No,” he laughed. “He’s not my type. A little too dark for my blood. I got him wasted and paid someone to put him in bed. He wasn’t harmed. I just needed the illusion because I knew you’d never trust him, not like you trust me. I will say he was determined to get you back. Not like Peter. It was easy to get you to think Peter was fucking around. A Thanksgiving tragedy.”
The revelations slapped Sam in the face. His mind had been played with for nearly the entire school year by him and him alone.
“I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”
“Because I want you. I need you, Sammy,” he answered. “I almost gave up on us. I met someone else on this campus looking for you. He screamed a little too much. Turns out you know him, and it worked in my favor because he was Emory’s friend. I almost killed him for sucking your cock. That’s my cock. You are mine.”
Sam’s face went from confusion to shock to disgust as everything came together in his mind. “You raped Kade?”
“Rape is such a strong word. I told you I don’t rape anyone. I just give you what you really want. You loved it, Sam. Don’t you remember how many times I made you cum. I was the first man to touch every part of you.”
“YOU RAPED ME!” Sam’s voice trembled and cracked with rage.
He waved his finger. “Sammy, tsk…tsk…tsk. You disappoint me.”
Sam turned around and began to run. He put those track legs to use. He ran and ran. His stalker, rapist, and former coach/therapist remained hot on his tail.
Emory and Peter faced each other in the dark of the room naked. Emory fell back on the bed, and Peter slid between his legs. Emory wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist. His hands moved down Peter’s back and onto his pale ass. Just as Peter was about to slide inside of him and release months of pent-up cum inside of Emory, someone banged at the door.
“EMORY!” Sam yelled from the other side. “Open up. Please! Help me!”
Emory and Peter shared a look. Peter knew that Emory’s heart still belonged to Sam. He knew the only way to compete and prove himself worthy would be to play the game of support, and so with that, Peter pulled away. He was going to win Emory over with the sweet and sensitive act. Call it chivalry. Call it Southern Charm. Imma call it the fuckin’ Turning Point Effect.
TO BE CONTINUED
© Grayson Rose 2025. All rights reserved.
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