because of some issues, the previous page was deleted. It seems there were comments I didn't get a chance to see, and I'm sorry about that.
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Back at the frat house, the dim hallway lights stretched their shadows long across the floor. Blake and Mike tiptoed to the storage closet and pulled out the first aid kit—ice packs, betadine, gauze, and a few bottles of painkillers all neatly arranged. They exchanged quiet glances, making sure they wouldn't wake anyone, then crept up the stairs to the second floor.
Opening Adrian's door, they found Eric half-propped on the bed under the light, breathing shallowly, sweat beading his forehead. His clothes had already been stripped off, and Adrian was wringing out a warm towel, carefully wiping down Eric's body. He didn't dare touch the purple-blue bruises, only cleaning the sweat and grime that hadn't yet dried.
"They were drunk," Adrian's voice suddenly broke the suffocating silence, rough and low. "Colton's crew—dumped some liquid on us, I think it was piss. Fucking disgusting."
He said this for Mike's benefit, to cover the truth. Blake opened an ice pack and gently applied it to Eric's waist and inner thighs, securing it with cloth strips. Mike handed over cotton swabs while carefully dabbing warm betadine on the skin that had been brutally battered, occasionally humming softly to soothe. Outside, the wooden floorboards creaked. Adrian pulled a few painkillers and a can of cold spray from the first aid kit.
He leaned close to Eric's ear and whispered, "Take these. They'll help you sleep." Then, cupping Eric's chin with one hand, he carefully helped Eric swallow the pills.
The three of them gathered around the bed, checking that every dressing was secure, quietly watching Eric's body gradually relax. Night wrapped around them like ink; outside, distant cars droned by occasionally, but inside only breathing and the soft brush of wrists remained. Minutes later, Eric's lashes fluttered, and he drifted into a half-dream. Adrian stroked his hairline and murmured, "Rest well. I'm here."
Blake took cotton swabs and ointment from the kit, walked over to Adrian, and pressed him down on the other side of the bed to tend to the cut on Adrian's face. When the ointment-dabbed swab barely touched the split at the corner of Adrian's mouth, Adrian's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
"Why did you rush in alone?" Blake asked quietly, his eyes focused on Adrian's wound as if this were just a casual question. "The Adrian I know... isn't that reckless."
Adrian fell silent for a moment. Only the faint rustling of Mike helping Eric with bandages could be heard.
"There were more people in the warehouse than I expected," Adrian finally spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He didn't answer Blake's question. Instead, he turned toward the half-conscious Eric on the bed. "Eric, you heard it too, right? Some voices... ones we didn't recognize?"
Eric seemed pulled from a chaotic nightmare. It took him a long time to focus, then he nodded weakly. "Yeah... voices I've never heard. Not... not from our team."
He closed his eyes again after that.
So there were outsiders involved?
"Fuck, I don't know what Marcus is up to, but this isn't just an internal team issue anymore. Those people..." Adrian trailed off, shaking his head. Blake's question had been dodged—Blake knew this was Adrian's typical way of deflecting.
Was Adrian embarrassed? The thought flickered through Blake's mind—an incredible notion—but maybe it was true. Maybe this vice-captain wasn't as cold or calculated as Blake had assumed. As Blake wrapped gauze around Adrian's forearm under the light, he cut away the excess tape as gently as possible, like mending a thread about to snap.
"The biggest threat is the video Marcus took on his phone," Adrian said after a pause, his icy tone burning with fury. He glanced at Mike before continuing, "They beat us, stripped us—it's all on camera."
"So what, rob Marcus' phone?" Blake asked with a hint of sarcasm, knowing that wasn't a real solution.
"Don't say dumb shit. But waiting for him to blackmail us isn't an option either." Passively waiting wasn't Adrian's style.
"What's he planning? If he wanted to humiliate you, he might've already uploaded it," Blake said in a low voice.
"Who knows. But he won't—not yet. Blackmail only works before you send it. Once it's out, he loses leverage. Marcus isn't stupid—he gets that."
"But that means you and Eric..."
"It's fine. We're victims, and..." Adrian bit his lip hard. "Even if I never go pro, I'll survive. When the time comes, I'll ruin Marcus."
"Should we call the others? I'm sure Nolan and Tanner are still awake—isn't Tanner downstairs?" Mike asked absently. Blake knew Mike meant well, but clearly Adrian didn't want more people to know. Seeing Adrian frown, Blake shook his head at Mike, then turned to Adrian. "Captain, what's your plan? Even if we hide this tonight, we've got pre-game training and meetings tomorrow. Marcus could threaten to release it anytime, force you to do whatever he wants."
Honestly, Blake had barely spoken to Thompson, the "official" captain. If there was a real captain, it was Adrian—Thompson was irrelevant, only someone like Colton cared about that. On the other hand, Adrian's injuries were manageable, but Eric's body clearly wasn't going to bounce back after just one night's sleep.
"I've got a secret weapon—my loyal supporters, and the campus gossip queens," Adrian said with a smile, opening his Instagram. "Instagram Live. I've got tens of thousands of followers, several thousand of them students on campus—girls, teammates, athletes from other sports, student council, frats, sororities, influencers, even some alumni. I'll carefully pick my audience to make sure they quietly spread the word around school without alerting professors, staff, or cops."
"A livestream?" Blake squinted. Mike seemed interested though. "What about Brennan? He'll see you tomorrow."
"My injuries won't affect the game. I'll make up an excuse for Eric." Adrian said it casually, his look at Blake suggesting, "That's all you care about?"
Of course not.
"What's the stream gonna do?" Blake asked the right question.
"Control the narrative first," Adrian said, his eyes sharp. "I can't let him control the story. We strike first—before he knows what hit him, we establish our own version. I'll say we were attacked, show the injuries, emphasize we're victims but still playing Friday."
"You're going public?" Eric, half-asleep, seemed to catch Adrian's words, his voice slurred and trembling. Adrian soothed him, correcting: "Only partially. No details—just that we ran into trouble off-campus, got hurt, but we'll play Friday."
Mike understood. "If everyone already knows you were attacked, Marcus will be under scrutiny if he tries anything?"
"Right," Adrian confirmed. "And this keeps coaches and teachers out of it. Student rumors won't get reported to the school immediately, but it'll put enough pressure on Marcus—everyone knows we were assaulted, so if he pulls anything now, he'll draw way too much attention."
Blake thought for a moment. "But this doesn't solve the real problem. He can come back and threaten you later."
"Yeah, this just creates chaos for Marcus—especially for the people around him—makes it harder for them to act. But the problem isn't truly solved. We need a way to deal with the video."
Adrian's voice carried a hint of exhaustion. He knew this was just buying time.
"...Maybe someone can help us." Blake pictured Ethan's face.
"Is he reliable?"
"Yes. I trust him." Seeing Blake's confident response, Adrian nodded, so Blake pulled out his phone. "I'll contact him now."
Blake walked to the hallway and quietly closed the door behind him.
He walked to the end of the corridor, took a deep breath, and started a video call. After a while, the screen lit up with Ethan's slightly weary face, his eyes suspicious.
"Hey," Blake's voice was lower than usual.
Ethan blinked, still coming back from something. "Blake? You're not having fun at the party? Girls ignoring you so you're calling me?"
"The party's already over, but..." Blake ignored the sarcasm, pressing his lips together. "I can't come back tonight. My teammates are in trouble—I need to help."
Ethan's expression immediately turned alert. "What happened? Is it bad?"
"It's messy, but we're handling it." Blake dodged the details, but then noticed the faint reddish mark on Ethan's neck. "Hey, your neck... you okay?"
Ethan instinctively touched the spot, his face flushing. "It's fine... you really freaked me out back then."
Blake's face flashed with guilt. "I know. I just wanted to... prank you, because you said there was nothing between us... I figured I'd mess with you. Never meant to actually hurt you."
Ethan turned away, uncomfortable. "I said it's fine. So you're calling about your teammates?"
Blake took a deep breath, his voice serious. "Yeah. Someone filmed my teammates. Now they're being blackmailed with it." He paused. "Ethan, do you know any way to... delete it or anything?"
Ethan frowned. "Wait, what kind of video? When you say blackmail..."
"The kind that could ruin someone," Blake's voice tensed. "I can't share details—it's serious. Ethan, you're the only person I can trust completely."
The words shocked Ethan into silence. He looked like he wanted to keep teasing, but seeing Blake's face, he dropped it. Instead, an uncertain nervousness took over.
"You... you think I can help?" Ethan sounded unsure of himself.
"Yes," Blake said firmly. "No one else. You're the only one I can trust a hundred percent."
Ethan paused, blinking rapidly. "I'm not some genius hacker, Blake. I'm just a freshman taking intro courses. I'm not sure what I can do..."
"It's fine. Any help is enough," Blake said, his tone almost pleading.
Ethan bit his lip, then nodded. "Okay, hold on. Let me check some forums." His fingers were already flying over the keyboard. "Is the video on his phone? Or already uploaded to the cloud or social media?"
"On his phone. I'm sure," Blake said.
"Then maybe... wait, let me see." Ethan turned away, the camera showing just the back of his head and screen glare. "Cloud sync... backup services... fuck, so many variables."
Blake listened to Ethan's rapid typing and muttered technical jargon. After a while, Ethan turned back, deep in thought.
"I need more info. What kind of phone does he have? File size? When was it filmed? Did he share it with anyone?" Ethan spoke quickly, with a rare show of focus and confidence Blake had seldom seen.
"I... I'm not sure of all the details yet, but I can find out," Blake said, gratitude surging in his chest. "Ethan, thank you. Really."
Ethan's face flushed again, waving awkwardly. "Don't... don't get all sappy. I'm just... hold on, I'll check some forums and see if anyone's dealt with something similar. But Blake," his expression turned serious, "if it's really that bad, calling the cops might be the better option."
"I know, but... that's not an option right now," Blake sighed. "It's complicated."
Ethan studied him, then nodded. "Fine. I'll do my best. Give me an hour."
"Thanks," Blake said sincerely.
Ethan gave him a complicated look. "Blake... be careful."
"I will. You too—don't stay up too late."
The screen went black. Blake stood in the hallway, the tension easing a bit. He turned back toward Adrian's room, Ethan's "I'll try" echoing in his mind.
For the first time, Ethan felt truly trusted and depended on. After ending the call, Ethan stared at the blank screen, took a deep breath, and started frantically searching keywords.
Back in Adrian's room, Mike had already tucked Eric under a clean blanket, and Adrian was prepping for his livestream.
"I'm guessing you called that little guy in your dorm—he's computer science, right?" Adrian asked Blake casually, eyes still on his phone. "Find a solution yet? I doubt even a CS major can snap his fingers and fix this."
"Of course not, but he knows where to look. He'll get back in an hour," Blake said, closing the door. "I trust him. Are you starting?"
"Yeah, all set. Relax—Marcus won't send that video anytime soon. He's got his reasons. Even if your roommate comes up empty, we'll find another way." Adrian adjusted his phone, setting up the shot to show his bruises, the bandaged Eric, and Blake and Mike in the background.
He took a breath and went live on Instagram, selecting "Close Friends." The audience was curated—loyal teammates, influential players, campus socialites, sorority leaders, even certain fringe members of Marcus' crew—just enough that word would reach him.
No Marcus, Colton, or Terry on the list, but Adrian knew the message would spread.
He started the stream.
"Hey, everyone," Adrian's voice was softer than usual, tinged with exhaustion. "I know there might be some rumors going around tonight, so I wanted to clear things up directly."
Adrian's face clearly showed bruises—a purple mark on his left cheekbone, a small split at his lip, a band-aid on his forehead. His hair was messy, his T-shirt collar askew. The whole vibe was open and vulnerable.
Viewer numbers started climbing fast.
"Tonight Eric and I ran into some... trouble off-campus," Adrian continued, choosing his words carefully. "Some people—never mind, I won't go into details. The point is, we're safe. We're back."
He paused for emphasis. The camera caught the exhaustion in his eyes and a touch of real vulnerability—he was genuinely wiped out, but Adrian knew how to weaponize that emotion.
"Eric's hurt worse than I am," Adrian said, turning the camera toward Eric. Eric lay on his side, bandages on his arms, pale but calm. He raised a weak thumbs-up to the camera.
The comments exploded:
"Oh my God Adrian are you okay?"
"What happened???"
"Eric!!! Take care!!"
"Who the fuck touched our boys???"
"Need help?"
"I'm fine, really," Adrian said, his voice carrying that tough-guy vulnerability people worry about. "Just some scratches. But I wanted you all to know—the team, our brothers—we're together."
Suddenly Adrian pulled Blake into the shot, wrapping an arm around him, showing their closeness—a clear sign of team unity.
"This is Blake," Adrian introduced him. "Lots of you already know him—my brother, our rising star. Tonight... he helped out a lot."
Blake's face stiffened, clearly not used to this kind of contact—especially on camera. Adrian didn't let him escape, side-hugging him tight.
"Adrian—" Blake whispered, squirming.
"Blake patched me up," Adrian cut him off, gently massaging Blake's shoulder for the camera. "He's always there for me. I'm lucky to have a teammate like him."
Blake looked awkward but didn't pull away. Adrian's head nearly rested on Blake's shoulder, the screen practically dripping with "brotherhood."
Comments blew up:
"Oh my god those two!!!"
"Bros before hoes!"
"Blake takes such good care"
"My heart is melting"
"This is real team friendship"
Adrian checked the stream stats, satisfied, and leaned even closer to Blake, almost leaning on him entirely.
"When Blake bandaged me," Adrian's voice softened, "he was so gentle. Didn't want to hurt me."
Blake blushed—maybe from awkwardness or Adrian's grip. "Adrian, can you—"
"No," Adrian whispered off-camera, "just go with it."
Adrian turned back, continuing his monologue. "I know there are lots of stories out there, but I want you to hear the truth—we got messed up off-campus, we're safe now, and we're prepping for Friday's game."
He hugged Blake even tighter, practically putting Blake's head on his shoulder. Blake protested softly, but Adrian ignored it.
"This is our team," Adrian said. "We look after each other, protect each other. No matter what, we stand together."
In the background, Mike was folding sheets and suddenly started laughing, shoulders shaking as he tried not to burst out loud—the camera caught his back.
Adrian noticed but kept up the performance, pulling Blake closer until their faces nearly touched.
"Adrian!" Blake finally pushed back, trying to escape.
"What?" Adrian stared innocently, arm still around him. "I just want people to know how well you look after me."
"Fuck you..." Blake muttered, not daring to get too obvious on camera.
Adrian winked at the camera—his playfully battered look detonated the comments again:
"Adrian can joke so he must be alright"
"Blake's face is hilarious"
"Adrian let go, Blake's suffocating"
"This brotherhood—I love it"
"Okay, okay," Adrian finally released Blake, though his hand still rested on his shoulder. "I'll stop bullying Blake. He's been through enough."
Blake immediately slid back, straightening his shirt with an expression of "finally free." Mike laughed again in the background, louder this time.
"Mike!" Blake called out. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing!" Mike raised his hands, shoulders still shaking. "Just... just feels warm!"
Even Eric cracked a weak smile on the bed.
Adrian seized the moment. "See? That's us. Even after tonight, we can still laugh. That's real brotherhood."
Key viewers were actively engaging—Adrian was getting the viral effect he wanted.
"That's all I wanted to say," Adrian grew serious. "We're fine, we're together, we're prepping for the game. If you hear weird rumors on campus, don't believe them." He paused. "And—if you go out at night, go with friends. Avoid sketchy places. Stay safe."
He reached to end the stream but, before tapping out, added: "Thanks for your concern. See you Friday on the ice."
The livestream ended.
Adrian immediately collapsed onto the bed, sighing with exhaustion.
"Finally done," Blake said, rubbing his aching shoulder. "Damn, you held me way too tight."
"It worked," Adrian said, checking his phone and scrolling. "It's already blowing up in the feeds."
Mike, still grinning, said, "You two just now... man, I thought Adrian was gonna choke you out."
"I felt that," Blake muttered.
"But effective," Adrian replied, showing his phone. "Look—comments. All support. They're saying we're united, real brothers." He nodded, satisfied. "Tomorrow morning the whole school will know our side."
"What about Marcus?" Eric whispered.
"He's stuck now," Adrian replied shrewdly. "If he tries to spin it tonight, he looks like an asshole. Plus, I included a few fringe guys from his camp in the audience—the message will reach him. He'll know we've seized the story."
Blake grudgingly admitted Adrian's move was smart—social media, bruised-yet-strong image, brotherhood appeal—all prime college currency.
"Now," Adrian put away his phone, "we've bought time. At least until after the game, Marcus won't dare move. Also—" Adrian shushed Blake and Mike, beckoning them closer. "Blake, Mike, it's too late anyway, and I'm talking to the dorm manager. You're staying here tonight—make it two nights, until the game. The room you know—the one you had in summer. The guys living there are on internships in Australia; they'll be back in a few weeks."
"The summer room"—Blake hadn't forgotten that pre-term stretch with Mike. After all the guilt over Brennan, becoming roommates and friends with Mike had saved his mood. Good times. But—
"Don't look at me like that," Adrian caught Blake's look and smirked. "I know—Brennan called saying there's a talented kid who needs a room, a hockey prodigy, and another kid into hockey wanted to train early. So I got them a spot. Here."
Blake froze, but before he could answer, Mike hugged Adrian, whispering excitedly, "Thank you, Adrian. You're the best captain."
Seeing Mike's sincerity, Blake also hugged them, and the two grinned at each other.
Soon they let go of Adrian, whose face was red from the hug. Mike turned to Blake. "Seriously though, Blake, your face just now was hilarious. Like you'd been kidnapped."
"I was kidnapped," Blake joked, "by this bastard."
"The bastard appreciates your cooperation," Adrian smiled, eyes glinting with real gratitude. "Seriously, thank you, Blake."
The room relaxed. They knew this was just a start—the real fight was ahead. But for now, they owned the story. Blake realized he needed to reassess his vice-captain.
Blake shook his head. "Fine, as long as it works. Adrian, you're a real bastard—but compared to the actual thugs, you're a respectable bastard."
"Oh, so you're falling for me now?" Adrian opened his arms dramatically, but Blake dodged the hug. Adrian didn't mind, grinning cockily. "People who love me would line up from here to the gate. You know how many people want to be my bitch?"
"Fuck you!" Blake playfully hit Adrian with a pillow—then his phone rang.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Ethan's roar came directly from the phone. Blake quickly ran out to the hallway corner to keep listening to Ethan's complaints. "I'm busting my ass researching while you're... doing Instagram livestreams and cuddling up to super chad?"
Blake blinked, then realized. "You... you saw it?"
"Someone reposted the live in the Discord group."
Just moments before, as Ethan had been battling GitHub and YouTube tutorials, he'd seen new Discord messages pop up.
——————————————————————————
xXedgelord420Xx: YO YO YO
xXedgelord420Xx: HOCKEY CHAD IS LIVE
cumguzzler69: who gives a fuck
xXedgelord420Xx: ADRIAN WHITMORE THE CAPTAIN PREP
vapejesus: oh that rich prick
cumguzzler69: wait why is everyone watching this normie shit
xXedgelord420Xx: HIS FACE IS FUCKED UP LOL
sizequeen420: omg link???
anoncoomer: hes on ig live
vapejesus: lmaooo what happened did someone finally punch his pretty face
hornyonmain: oh shit he looks actually hurt
BettingDegen: HOW BAD IS IT
BettingDegen: IS HE PLAYING FRIDAY OR NOT
uwugirl: OMG IS HE OK
xXedgelord420Xx: he says he got attacked or some shit
cumguzzler69: probably deserved it
StatNerd: I guess they had a dispute with Colton
xXedgelord420Xx: WAIT WAIT BLAKE JUST SHOWED UP
BettingDegen: blake's fine tho right???
xXedgelord420Xx: blake looks fine just uncomfortable lol
vapejesus: uncomfortable bc adrians feeling him up on camera
cumguzzler69: gay
anoncoomer: nah bro thats just hockey culture they do that shit
vapejesus: still gay
uwugirl: THIS IS SO WHOLESOME IM CRYING
cumguzzler69: you bitches are so thirsty its pathetic
BettingDegen: ok but SERIOUSLY is adrian playing friday or not
sizequeen420: OMG THEYRE HUGGING
hornyonmain: *cuddling
uwugirl: omg adrian looks so vulnerable
cumguzzler69: "vulnerable" = milking sympathy
uwugirl: shut up incel
cumguzzler69: >incel
anoncoomer: someones laughing in the background
xXedgelord420Xx: thats mike probably
BettingDegen: WHO CARES ABOUT MIKE
BettingDegen: I need to know if I should hedge my bet
xXedgelord420Xx: blake looks like he wants to die lmaooo
sizequeen420: hes so cute when hes embarrassed
cumguzzler69: you girls are fucking delusional
TechBro42: anyone recording this? might need it later for...research
vapejesus: "research" = jerk off material
TechBro42: fuck off
uwugirl: you guys are disgusting
xXedgelord420Xx: live ended
BettingDegen: WAIT WHAT DID HE SAY AT THE END
StatNerd: " see you friday on the ice"
BettingDegen: so theyre playing???
StatNerd: sounds like it but those injuries looked legit
xXedgelord420Xx: well that was gay
cumguzzler69: what a waste of time
sizequeen420: im gonna clip that and post it everywhere
uwugirl: same!! adrian and blake are so precious
hornyonmain: this whole situation smells like team drama
xXedgelord420Xx: yeah, heard there's beef between colton, blake, and adrian
vapejesus: classic jock politics, no surprise
cumguzzler69: nobody knows shit tho, just rumors and salty bros
TechBro42: hey does anyone follow adrian's OF tho? lmao
sizequeen420: omg no way now you tell me?
TechBro42: yeah totally. it's mostly gym vids and him flexing, lowkey doing the "no undies" tease thing
cumguzzler69: pure scam. no real nudes or anything, just some dude's flexing vids
BettingDegen: bot says game lines just shifted -2.5 to -1.5 for Friday
BettingDegen: yeah looks like some big money came in on the opposition, maybe expecting adrian or eric to sit this one out
BettingDegen: just hoping my bets hold up, lol
TechBro42: anyone clip the live? need to study for presentation
cumguzzler69: imma upload asap
hornyonmain: send the link plz
——————————————————————————
Ethan stared at this group chat flying by, feeling that mix of jealousy, malice, curiosity, and pettiness. Even though the group didn't have much real technical discussion—occasionally some CS students would argue about jailbreak tools—most of the time it was just shit-talking, unreliable rumors, and betting odds. But the rebroadcast of Adrian's livestream threw Ethan off. He grabbed his phone, dialed the call, and roared into the mic. Back to the present.
Blake sighed. "That was... Adrian's plan. Control the narrative, keep the other side scared."
"So you just let him hug you like that?" Ethan blurted out.
"Boss, listen..." Blake's voice dropped, gentle and soothing.
"Don't call me boss," Ethan snapped, but his face was already flushing. "You... you were so close on camera. The whole school's talking about you two."
"Jealous?" Blake's voice carried a hint of mischief.
"Bullshit!" Ethan's voice got louder, then he lowered it out of embarrassment. "I just... I just think you should focus on the real problem and not—"
"Not let Adrian hug me?" Blake kept teasing, his voice low and sexy. "Boss, you know it's for show. All I'm thinking about... is you."
He lowered his voice, every word pressed to the mic—deep, rough, humid.
Ethan froze, hearing that magnetic tone.
"I know you're trying to help," Blake whispered, silky words stroking Ethan's ears. "I know you're sitting there staring at code and forums for me."
"I... I just..." Ethan's voice trembled.
"Don't talk, Boss. Just listen," Blake commanded, voice even lower, with a hint of dominance. "You're alone tonight, right? I'm not there. The bed's empty."
Ethan swallowed. Blake's voice was fucking sexy—each syllable hot breath in his ear.
"Remember, Ethan?" Blake murmured slyly. "Remember how my tongue felt in your mouth? Remember how I sucked your monster cock?"
"Blake..." Ethan's face burned.
"I miss you," Blake rasped, voice hungry. "Your scent, your hand pulling my hair. Miss you calling me your bitch."
Ethan's breath sped up. His body was reacting.
"You know what, Ethan?" Blake whispered thickly. "I'm standing here in this hallway, and my pants are getting tight. Just from saying this to you."
"Fuck..." Ethan cursed softly.
"That's right," Blake chuckled, his voice vibrating in the mic. "I love hearing you swear. Love seeing you lose control."
Blake paused, his loud breath coming through the phone.
"You hard now, Boss?" Blake teased. "Touch yourself. Tell me."
"Blake, I'm... I'm researching..." Ethan's voice quivered.
"Do both," Blake ordered, voice low as a bedside whisper. "Hand in your pants. Grip it. For me."
Ethan's hand inched over his thigh.
"You know what I want?" Blake purred hypnotically. "I wanna go back to that dorm, see you at your computer, zipper down, that monster cock hard as hell. I wanna kneel and lick it till you beg me to stop."
"Fuck... Blake..."
"Remember that?" Blake kept murmuring, every word like breath at Ethan's ear. "Remember how my tongue worked your shaft?"
Ethan was already gripping himself, Blake's voice setting his ears aflame.
"Remember how I stretched your hole with my tongue, opened you up? Remember when I hit that spot that made you cry out?"
"Ha," Ethan snorted, face redder. "Your little thing? I can't feel it."
Blake laughed softly, voice vibrating through the mic. "Really? So why did you grab the sheets and beg me... what was it—'fuck, Blake, right there, don't stop'?"
"I never said that!" Ethan protested, voice shaky.
"Didn't say it?" Blake's voice got lower, filthier. "Then I must be remembering wrong? I recall your legs shaking, ass up, cursing me while telling me to go harder."
"Shut up..." Ethan's cheeks blazed.
"You know, Boss," Blake whispered thickly, "I'm in this hallway right now thinking about you coming—I'm hard as hell."
"That's your problem," Ethan shot back, trying to sound cold.
"My problem?" Blake snickered. "Boss, you hard now? Don't lie—I know your face gives it away."
"I'm not," Ethan lied, but his hand was already stroking his massive cock.
"Liar," Blake said quietly, sure of himself. "That monster of yours must be aching right now. Wants to be touched, sucked, wants—"
"Your tiny dick has no right!" Ethan snapped.
"You say that, but your body's honest," Blake's voice dropped even more. "Every time I'm inside, your ass clenches. Every time I hit that spot, you make those dirty little moans."
"I don't..." Ethan weakly refuted.
"You do, Boss," Blake insisted. "And you know what's hottest? When you curse me, call me 'trash jock,' 'brainless idiot,' but wrap your legs around me to keep me inside."
Ethan's breathing grew heavy.
"You miss me?" Blake suddenly asked, voice soft.
"No," Ethan answered immediately, but his voice shook.
"Liar," Blake laughed. "I see you, Boss. Face red, hands trembling. You want me to fuck you, don't you?"
"Your little thing can't..." Ethan tried to act tough.
"That little thing wants to come back now," Blake interrupted, voice completely dirty. "Wants to get you in that chair and fuck you from behind. I want you moaning and cursing."
"Fuck..." Ethan breathed hard.
"That's it," Blake urged. "Swear at me, Boss. I love when you curse me. Love when you rough me up. Love when you punish my mouth with that monster of yours."
"Blake..." Ethan's voice wavered.
"I want you bad," Blake confessed, voice desperate. "Your taste, your grip on my hair. Want you on my face, coming while I eat you."
"You say these things in the hallway..." Ethan pointed out, voice soft.
"I know," Blake said. "But you make me lose control, Boss. Only you."
Ethan went quiet, then blurted, "You and Adrian... really nothing?"
Blake's tone went serious. "Nothing. He's a teammate, friend. But you... you're different."
"How?"
"You're my Boss," Blake said simply. "The only one I'd give everything to."
Ethan's pulse skipped.
"Now," Blake's voice returned to command, "touch yourself. For me."
Ethan didn't answer, but wet sounds and heavy breathing came through the phone.
"Good," Blake purred. "Like that. Pretend it's my hand. Me on my knees, licking your monster cock."
"Shut up, slut—I'm gonna wreck you and your jock jaw..." Ethan retorted, breath ragged.
"No," Blake denied. "I want to say this. I wanna tell you how much I miss your taste. Miss your monster cock on my tongue. Miss when you grab my hair and hold me on your crotch as you cum."
Ethan moaned, gripping his aching cock.
He pictured Blake kneeling—the golden boy on the ice now at his groin, trying to swallow the oversized shaft. Tears at Blake's eyes from the size, but he kept working, eager to please...
"That's it, Boss," Blake encouraged. "Let me hear you."
Now Ethan imagined Blake on all fours, ass ready for him. He'd slowly slide in, watch Blake bite the pillow, entrance stretched by his massive cock, swallowed bit by bit...
"Good," Blake purred. "Like that. Pretend it's my hand. Pretend I'm kneeling for that monster cock."
"I don't need you to tell me what to do, jock slut," Ethan retorted, hand stroking. "But Blake... I want more than that."
"What?" Blake feigned innocence—Ethan knew the cam show trick, luring him to say worse.
"I want to fuck your virgin ass, that hot jock hole, your pussy—I want it!" Ethan admitted, voice shaky from need. "I want my monster stretching your untouched bubble butt."
A pause, then Blake sounded reluctant. "Boss... you're still thinking about that?" His cam boy voice returned, pleading. "Wasn't it hot enough when I fucked you last time... you were crying from pleasure..."
That stabbed Ethan's pride.
"Shut up!" Ethan snapped. "That's why I'm pissed!"
Blake froze. "What?"
"You don't get it?" Ethan sounded defeated, angry. "I have 8.5 inches, Blake. Eight and a half! I should be the one fucking a pretty boy jock like you, making you cry under my cock, having that proud manly body shaking for me. But..."
He stroked harder.
"But your barely average dick," Ethan groaned, "fucks me so damn good I lose control. Every time you hit that spot with your thick cock I just... just can't help it. Fuck, Blake, it's embarrassing!"
Blake soothed him. "Boss, you like my cock—nothing to be embarrassed about..."
"If you at least had 7 inches," Ethan muttered, frustrated, "if you gym rats at least had the size to match those muscles, maybe—I'd give in, be your fuck toy. But you barely clear six!"
"Stop obsessing over size," Blake replied, voice a bit louder, then softer. "Boss, I know how to use this cock to make you feel good... that's what matters."
"Fuck you!" Ethan barked. "Point is—it's not fair. I should be the one dominating you, making you kneel. But now..."
He pushed a finger into his still-slick hole, feeling traces of Blake's previous visit—short but thick, rock-hard cock hitting his prostate with athletic power, leaving every nerve tingling, his insides branded with that jock's sweat...
"Fuck..." Ethan moaned, working finger and cock. "I should hate this..."
"But you like it," Blake whispered, breathing warm at Ethan's ear. "You love me fucking that tight hole, Boss? You love me filling you with this thick cock?"
"Shut up, slut..." Ethan whimpered, but his finger plunged deeper, hunting the spot. "You're just a whore for older guys... how did you..."
"Because I know how to use this body," Blake confided, voice drenched in filth. "I know how to flex these muscles to make you hard, use this cock to hit your sweet spot, know how to work my nerdy boss till he breaks..."
Ethan's breathing raced—damn, Blake was good. Years in cams teaching him how to play voice, words, rhythm for desire.
He remembered the last time Blake fucked him—jock body pinning him, thick pecs moving in front of his face, two strong arms braced at his sides, and those perfect thrusts...
"You're a hell of a fucker," Ethan gritted out, finger finding his prostate. "God, you athletic slut—average size but you fuck me so good I wanna die..."
"Isn't that great?" Blake comforted, soft. "Boss... we're the perfect pair. You lay back, let this muscle jock service you..."
"I won't allow it!" Ethan broke in, voice torn. "I can't... just accept that. I need... I need balance."
He stroked madly now—cock and ass.
"I want your bubble butt, Blake," Ethan panted. "I wanna see that cocky athlete getting split by my 8.5-inch monster. Want you to moan, cry. Want you to learn what it's like for an alpha to get dominated…"
"Boss..." Blake's breath was heavy.
"I'll make you my muscle slut, fuck you speechless, let you know what being filled up by a monster is like. I'll breed that jock ass... then maybe... just maybe I'll accept letting you keep fucking me, if I know... I've fucked your perfect ass."
He pictured the scenes, sometimes him splitting open Blake with his monster cock, making Blake moan and beg; sometimes Blake pounding him, making him lose control.
"Fuck... fuck..." Ethan felt himself close.
His finger hit his prostate, other hand jerking fast on his massive cock.
"I want both," Ethan confessed, breath quick. "I wanna fuck your jock ass, get fucked by your thick cock. Blake—you're all mine!"
"We could, actually—"
"But you won't let me in," Ethan pointed out. "You don't wanna get bred by me."
Blake was quiet. "Boss..."
"You say you'll give me everything," Ethan's voice grew rough, dangerous, possessive. "So give me your ass. I wanna see you stretched, see you cry, hear you beg me to go slow..."
Ethan kept imagining—Blake riding him, face twisted from pain and pleasure, never entered before, now filled to the brim. Blake would clutch Ethan's shoulders, body trembling to take the size, gasping...
"Your little thing," Ethan taunted, voice shaking with pleasure. "Doesn't compare to mine. I'll make you clench, beg, cum speechless..."
"Fuck... Boss..." Blake was desperate.
Ethan jerked harder, dreaming of Blake beneath him—muscular legs wrapped around his waist, face buried in his neck, breath hot, mumbling "Boss... it's too much... slow down..."
But he wouldn't slow. He'd pound Blake until every inch was claimed.
"I'm gonna pin you to the wall," Ethan gasped, lost in the fantasy. "Legs wrapped around me, my monster hitting your deepest spot. I wanna hear you yell, see you cry, make sure you know you're mine."
"Yes... Boss... all yours..." Blake whimpered.
Ethan pictured fucking Blake from behind—Blake's hands braced on the wall, head down, golden hair slick with sweat. Ethan holding his waist, slamming in and out, his thick cock stretching that tight entrance, listening for the broken moans...
"I want you to remember my shape," Ethan said huskily. "Want your ass to only recognize my size. Every time you see Adrian, Mike, anyone, you'll remember it was me who fucked you, me who made you lose it..."
"Fuck... Boss... I want it..." Blake whimpered submission.
That hit Ethan—imagining Blake on his knees, eyes glazed, begging "Fuck me, Boss." The sharp eyes from the rink now only full of lust, mouth open, breathing...
"I will," Ethan promised, stroking insanely. "I'll put you down and fuck you with this monster. I want you wide open, calling my name, knowing only I can do this..."
He imagined Blake cumming under him—cock untouched, just prostate getting hammered until he exploded across his own stomach, biting Ethan's shoulder, thighs locked tight...
"Cum for me," Blake ordered in the phone, voice heavy, powerful.
"Fuck... fuck... Blake..." Ethan hit the edge.
He pictured the last moment—buried deep in Blake, feeling the untouched passage clench, then release. He cummed hard, white cum splattering his hand, more than usual. His mind swam in visions of Blake spread open, saying "all yours"...
After a few seconds, Ethan slumped in his chair, panting hard.
Blake listened quietly to Ethan's breathing, smiling contentedly.
"Feeling better now?" Blake asked, gentle.
"You... bastard..." Ethan replied weakly, tone more fond than angry.
"I know," said Blake. "But you need to relax, Boss. You're too tense."
Ethan paused, then asked drowsily: "You know what I'm thinking, right?"
Blake chuckled. "Of course. Boss... someday, you'll get it for real."
Ethan's heart skipped. "You mean..."
"I told you—I'll give you what I've never given anyone," Blake answered seriously. "Even that. Just for you, Boss."
Ethan stared at the screen, at a loss. His cock responded to that promise.
"But not tonight," Blake added. "Tonight I've got to stay here."
"Hmph," Ethan huffed, hiding his anticipation.
Blake's look grew serious. "Ethan, any progress on your end?"
The flirting snapped off, Ethan cleaning off cum as he reviewed what he'd found. "Not much. Unless..."
"Unless what?" Blake asked.
"Unless I get his ID and password," Ethan said, "then I could delete everything in the cloud. But that means..."
"Means we have to trick him into giving them up," Blake summarized.
"Right," Ethan nodded, "or we make a phishing page, get his info, but I doubt he's dumb enough to type his password in…"
Blake pondered.
"Any other ideas?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, "If someone can install a profile or app on his unlocked phone, I can script a wipe for all matching files. But the app needs to be launched first."
"So we need someone handling his phone?"
"Just tap the install link at least."
Blake nodded, "I got it. Thanks, Ethan. I know it's complicated."
"No problem," Ethan said, voice softer, "but Blake, be careful. I see rumors about the livestream—what really happened?"
Blake's look grew grim. "I can't say much. But Ethan, we'll get through."
"You hurt?"
"No," Blake said, "I'm fine. Adrian and Eric... they're hurt, but patched up."
Ethan stared at Blake's face, hunting for subtext. Blake kept his expression even.
"Oh," Ethan tried to sound indifferent, "then... just rest up."
"Ethan," Blake called out.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," he said, eyes sincere, "really. Thanks for helping."
Ethan blushed. "Don't mention it. We're roommates."
Not just roommates, but Blake didn't correct him. "Alright, rest up—shower, sleep."
"You can't boss me," Ethan protested.
"Boss," Blake said sternly, "You've worked so hard for me, it can wait."
Ethan sighed, "...Fine."
After the call, Ethan stared at the cum on his hand, mind replaying the fantasy.
Someday... Blake said someday.
Ethan's lips curved up.
Maybe he could look forward to it.
