Lick It Up

For a week they ignored each other. They circled each other like two mongrels ready to do battle, neither willing to speak. Braxton was aggravated Peyton would make such an issue out of the arrangement. He did not want to admit how one sided it had become. He did not want to admit how he wanted it so bad, he could not sleep, but the idea of admitting to wanting Peyton was too much. He was a jock, a real man, and to admit to wanting sex with another guy was admitting an aspect of himself he had denied ever since he was fourteen and Adam laughed at him for wanting to touch his dick.

For Peyton, it was a hurt he needed his anger to smother, to keep him from expressing how he really felt. And to have Braxton act as if he were hurt too was too much. Like some sick joke no one laughed at, he was appalled.

The next week Peyton began to hang out with others on the floor, especially Juan from next door and David from the end of the hall. They jogged in the afternoon after classes, went into town for burgers, rode out to the state park to hike the trails and sat up late at night playing video games.

Braxton grew sullen. Holed up in their room, most afternoons on his bed with headphones on as he read an assignment or just stared up at the ceiling.

The following Sunday afternoon, Peyton was at his desk writing a paper for Advanced English, his notes scattered around his desk and the novel it was about opened in front of him. Braxton was on his bed, headphones on pretending to read. But he had not turned a page in twenty minutes, for his eyes kept looking across the room.  The beam of sunlight moved across Braxton’s bed and to the floor and he still looked at Peyton more than the book in his hand. He grew frustrated, sick of the situation, and he pulled the headphones off.

“Peyton, what do you want?”

The question hung in the air, Peyton trying to finish the sentence he had started, the pen bleeding out on the page.

“I’ll jerk you off.”

Peyton clinched his jaw and lowered his head, trying to control his breathing, taking one long breath after the next.

“You like it more than I do, so what’s the big deal if you suck me off more than I do you? Can’t you just accept it and let the two of us get what we want?”

It was a line crossed, this admission by Braxton how he expected Peyton to do more, that he was to be willing to please him more than he would in return. Peyton dropped the pen, steadied his breathing, telling himself to let it go.

“Come on, don’t you want my dick?”

Peyton was across the room before Braxton could respond. Shirt cinched up at the neck by Peyton’s fist, Braxton found himself pushed flat on his back with Peyton standing over him. The eyes showed it. The anger. A fury on the cusp of being released.

“Peyton, get off!” Braxton exclaimed trying to work the tight fist loose to free himself.

“What do you want? What was it again?” Peyton asked, his voice threatening.

“I thought you liked sucking my dick and wanted it. Didn’t you like it?”

“Didn’t you like sucking mine? Or are you too ashamed to admit it?”

“No…yes…it’s not like that. I’m not gay and…”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Braxton froze, looking at a Peyton he had never seen before. Peyton tightened his grip and pushed Braxton down harder.

“Here’s how it’s going to play out. Either accept how things are and we each continue to go our own way or admit to me how much you want it. Tell me truthfully if I mean anything to you. Anything at all. And if you want sex with me, you’ll put out, not me.”

Peyton leaned closer making sure Braxton heard him, then he stood, roughly releasing the shirt, and went back to his desk. He packed up everything, shoving it in his backpack. He grabbed up his cellphone and keys and left, heading to the library where he could focus on his assignment.

On the way back to the dorm, the sky dark, Peyton continued to replay what had happened, wondering if he had gone too far, asked too much. But he knew if he did not get Braxton to stop the jock bullshit, he would continue to try to dominant him. He did not want to play some master role, but if that were what it took, he would for the time it took to put Braxton in his place. Or he would move on to someone else. David had hinted at the possibility and he wondered what would happen if he came out to the floor. Would there be others who follow suit? Would one of them be someone he could date and have a healthy relationship?

Peyton wanted Braxton but what Braxton wanted was not going to work, not for him.

Peyton enter the room to find it empty, the headphones laying on Braxton’s bed along with the gym shorts he had been wearing. He put his backpack on his desk and went to the window seeing others coming back to the dorm or heading out, probably for a late dinner.

A knock at the door, and Peyton turned to see David standing in it.

“Hey, have you had dinner?” asked David.

“No, not yet. What do you have in mind?”

“Pizza at Annabella’s?”

“That sounds good. Can I shower off first?”

“Yeah, sure. Come to my room when you’re ready to go.”

Peyton slipped on worn and frayed jeans and a white turtleneck sweater, put on his boots, and headed down to David’s room. He expected Juan or Bobby, David’s roommate, to be there too, but David was alone at his desk playing around on his computer.

“Where is Bobby?” asked Peyton.

“He went with Juan and Ricky to a movie.”

“Oh, well, are you ready?”

“Yep, let’s go. I’m starving,” David replied, grabbing up his keys.

They walked down the corridor and waited on the elevator to arrive on the floor. The light indicated their floor as the bell rang out. The doors slid open and Braxton was standing there about to step off.

“Hey, Braxton,” said David.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Braxton replied, addressing only David.

“We’re going for pizza. You want to come with us?”

“He’s already had dinner,” Peyton interjected, pushing past Braxton.

“Oh, okay,” said David, letting Braxton move past before entering the cab.

Peyton had seen it, a hurt look that Braxton tried to conceal. He wondered how long it would be before Braxton was trying to get him to back down, to just agree to suck his dick. It was not going to be that simple; not anymore.

It was late when David and Peyton returned to the dorm. After Annabella’s, they went to the sports bar on 6th Street where they found some of the guys watching a basketball game. Peyton blended in with the guys, debating facts of the two teams playing and if their own team had a chance against either of them. They gossiped about guys on the floor; Chris dating two girls at once, Ryan getting another tattoo and a body piercing, and Matthew fucking a professor last semester for a better grade. Peyton laughed with them, but Landon asked about the one person he did not want to discuss.

“Hey, what is wrong with Braxton. He’s had a bug up his ass for two weeks?”

“Peyton? What is going with Braxton?” Brian asked.

“It’s nothing,” Peyton replied, and he looked at his cellphone and back to David. “I need to go. I have an early class and need to get to bed.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“No, stay and hang out with the guys. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You sure?” David replied and Peyton heard the tone, one that spoke of a desire to go with him but not confident enough to push it.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow,” Peyton replied in a reassuring tone.

Peyton had walked slowly back to the dorm, circling around unnecessarily just to kill time. He did have an early class, but he was far from sleepy, and he needed some quiet time just to think. He strolled past the bookstore, the coffee shop, and the outdoor clothing store. Finally crossing the street that separated the town from the campus, he strolled down the sidewalk between one of the engineering buildings and nursing. It was darker, shadows longer, and it seemed to envelope him.

One more week, Peyton thought as he came out on Bailey Avenue, a street that was now a concourse for pedestrian traffic. Just one more week. If Braxton was still acting like a jock bastard, then he would make it clear he was moving on.

The dorm was quiet, even though guys were milling about. There was a subdued feel about the place, and Peyton looked at his phone to see it was a few minutes passed midnight. On his floor, he found the door closed and assumed Braxton had turned in for the night. Key eased into the lock, he heard the soft click as it slid free and he eased into the room. Only the lamp on Braxton’s desk was on, and it cast long shadows across the room. Peyton eased into the room, at first wondering where Braxton had gone off for his bed was empty. Then he saw the naked body on his bed. Lying on his stomach, Braxton lay waiting for him. He moved to the foot of the bed and watched Braxton get on his elbows and look over the left shoulder.

Neither said a word.

Braxton watched Peyton, waiting for a response. Peyton’s anger tempted him to tell Braxton to get the fuck off his bed. The other part, the central core of him, pulled his sweater off and tossed it on his desk. While undoing his jeans, he watched Braxton turn and lay flat. Naked, cock flaccid, showing how confused he felt instead of the arousal that had existed between them, Peyton moved to the head of the bed. Braxton turned to him and he saw the eyes look at him; from face down to cock, where they stared intently.

“Get me hard,” Peyton uttered in a low, firm voice.

Braxton slid to the edge of the bed and moved to his cock. Peyton watched how Braxton moved straight to the head of his cock, slipped it between lips and began to manipulate it. The sensations were too much, and he quickly grew aroused. His cock filled Braxton’s mouth and became hard as rock. Stepping back, he left Braxton panting for breath.

Nothing needed to be said. Braxton knew what to do. He slid back to the center of the bed, reached back, and spread his ass cheeks. It was revealing, this gesture, and Peyton moved on the bed, straddling Braxton’s thighs. He raked his cock along the cleft, up and down, rubbing along that most private of places, one Braxton had flinched when touched before. Braxton did not flinch this time; he lay still letting Peyton touch him.

Peyton took his time, made Braxton lay still while he toyed with his ass. He kept it up until leaking, smearing it along the cleft until it glistened wetly. He rubbed the tight opening and pushed against it. Braxton buried his face into the pillow and moaned. Peyton pushed again and felt a slight push back.

“Do you want me?” Peyton asked.

“Yes,” came the muffled reply.

Peyton pushed harder and watched the head of his cock breach the tight opening. He felt it too, the almost painful squeeze as he penetrated him. He felt the shivering legs between his own and heard Braxton grunt and moan into the pillow. He pushed again, sinking a couple of inches into the heat of Braxton’s body and held still until it stopped shivering. Then he began to fuck. Slow, short strokes, pushing and tugging his cock through the tightness. He worked up to a steady rhythm, pushing inward deeper and deeper. He watched how his cock moved through the tight opening, until movement made him look up. Braxton moved his hands to the bed either side of his chest and grabbed at the bed until fists were tugging at the cover, white knuckled with their grip.

“You want me to stop?” Peyton asked.

“NO! No, keep going,” Braxton replied, and Peyton felt the ass push back on his cock.

Peyton increased his pace, fucked harder, rougher, until hips were smacking against firm round ass. The smacking sound echoed in their room, soon joined by Braxton’s moans. It pushed Peyton to fuck harder; to take possession of Braxton. His cock moved easily through the opening, now loosened to his thick cock.

“Peyton…fuck…” Braxton uttered.

Peyton moved to his hands, body straight, hovering over Braxton with his cock their only connection. He swung his hips upward until it hovered over Braxton’s hole, then he bore back into him, all the way, bouncing his hips off ass. Over and over, he did it; pulled all the way out, then slammed back in. His body grew hot, feverish, sweat beading up on his skin. Every muscle seemed to burn with his exertion, but he did not slow. He sank into Braxton and hammered cock into the hot depths.

Peyton fucked to cum, slamming into Braxton’s depths ruthlessly. His body responded, the sensations of this fuck too great, and he jammed his cock all they way in and hammered hips against ass, as he pumped out his load. He shuddered with the release and did not stop until spent. Then he fell on Braxton, panting for breath. He kept his still hard cock inside him as he lay heavily on top. Heat trapped between them made their skin slick against the other and he moved on Braxton. Working his body back and forth, grinding his cock inside the slick hole. He imagined himself a serpent, slithering over his victim. He reached around Braxton’s neck and held him tight as he felt his renewed arousal.  

“I’m going to fuck you again,” Peyton whispered, then nipped the ear and tugged on it.

“Yes,” Braxton uttered, then shuddered beneath Peyton.

Peyton began to fuck, slowly this time, working his cock outward, then back in, all the way. He let Braxton have an awareness of every inch dragging through his opening. Every fucking inch. He undulated against the prone body until fully aroused, and he wanted to fuck harder.

Back on his knees, Peyton looked down at his flexing, wet cock, then at the wet hole leaking his first load. He wanted back in it. He wanted to feel his cock sunk back into its depths.

“Roll over,” Peyton uttered.

Braxton rolled to his back, and without being asked, held his legs up, ready to rest them on Peyton’s shoulders. Peyton took each by the ankle, his grip tight letting Braxton really feel his hold over him, and he pushed them apart as he moved back to his target. His cock naturally aimed at the loosened opening and he pushed into it, all the way, and began to fuck again. He held the legs out, Braxton spread out before him, and relentlessly fucked cock into his ass.

“You want me?” Peyton asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I want your cock. I want you to fuck me…I want you.”

Slipping hands down to the back of the knees, Peyton folded Braxton in half, pushing the legs down either side of the sweating torso. He moved over the body, held himself up, and fucked. He saw Braxton’s eyes move down his body until staring at his cock as it piston inside of him. He pulled up higher, letting Braxton see nearly every inch, then slammed it back into the depths of his ass. The harder he fucked, the louder the sound of bodies coming together, and the louder Braxton’s moans and grunts became. When Braxton met his eyes, he saw the submission in them, this acquiescence to him. He now controlled their relationship. He looked into the pleading eyes and knew there was one more line to cross. One more thing yet to do. Leaning down, he kissed Braxton, pressed their lips together. For a brief second Braxton seemed to pull back, then he was pushing back. Braxton became passionate, with arms encircling Peyton, clinging to his undulating body.

With lips barely apart, “fuck me, Peyton, fuck me harder,” Braxton uttered in a low breathless voice.

Peyton pushed down harder, and hammered cock into Braxton. The bed rocked and squeaked, then tapped the wall in rhythm with Peyton’s thrusts. He felt how Braxton moved beneath him, squirming and pushing up to take every inward push. As he undulated on top of him, he felt Braxton’s hard cock press into his stomach. The wet head rubbed his skin and pushed against him. With the heat trapped between their sweating skin and the feel of Braxton’s hard cock, it made their fuck more intense. He let his body weigh down on Braxton, increased the contact between them as he ground his cock into the depths of Braxton’s hole.

Braxton shuddered beneath him, then hot cum pooled between their stomachs. Peyton kept working his cock inside him, pumping hips while Braxton’s cock ejaculated. Cum spread between them, then its scent filled the room. It pushed Peyton over the edge. He raised up, crying out, and pumped another load into him.

They showered together, coming out toweling wet hair dry. Peyton wondered if this was a serious change, or a moment of weakness on Braxton’s part. He went to his bed, tossing the damp towel over the back of the desk chair. He didn’t bother with putting on boxers, too tired to care, and eased down on his bed. He lay on his back and watched Braxton rub the top of his head with the towel, then spread it over the back of his desk chair. It appeared Braxton would get into his bed, but he stopped and looked across the room.

“Can I sleep with you?”

Peyton pulled the blanket back and motioned Braxton over. He slid closer to the wall, giving him room. But the bed was still tight for them, their bodies so close as to touch along arms, hips, and legs. Braxton rolled to his side facing the room and Peyton moved up behind him, spooning their bodies together. They lay still for a long time, their breathing slowed, sleep getting close.

“Peyton?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re not going to freak out later?”

“No.”

The semester progressed, as did the relationship between Braxton and Peyton. The guys on the floor noticed it, how Braxton lost the bravado of a jock but also the negative attitude that had possessed him from time to time. And Peyton seemed more self-assured, and with Braxton, more in charge, even of the simplest things, like where to go for dinner, or what movie to see, or when to call it a night, ending a marathon session of video gaming.

Within the dorm room the two shared, Braxton submitted to Peyton, waiting naked on his bed, or tugging him into the room and going to his knees, or slipping into the shower to scrub his back, suck his cock then take it in his ass, begging Peyton to fuck harder. And he began to kiss even when not in the throes of sex.

Spring break approached and some of the guys were split on where they would go. It seemed most were going to Daytona or Fort Lauderdale, but a few were going to Panama City Beach, and fewer still to Fort Walton Beach. Peyton and Braxton decided to go with the group heading to Fort Walton Beach, spending the week in the hotel room as much as they could. They fucked across the bed, in the shower and once, late at night, down on the beach after walking away from the developed area.

Somewhere along the way, Braxton admitted to his relationship with Peyton. The revelation took away the last of the anxiety, those fears that had made him act out. As the summer approached, Peyton and Braxton made plans to spend part of it together. One last summer before finishing college, and they planned a backpacking trip in Portugal.

Epilogue

Braxton crossed the campus, hair still wet, carrying his duffel bag of wet bikini and goggles. His muscles ached with the workout the assistant coach put them through. A tournament was coming up, only a week away, and the coach was excited by their prospects. The day was cool, even with the bright sunshine, and Braxton felt slightly chilled wearing only tank top and sweatpants. He cut across the campus, jogged through the commons and into the dorm. Up the stairs, he moved down the corridor, speaking to some of the guys, and seeing others busy with assignments or huddled around a television playing video games.

Braxton was surprised to find their door closed, for Peyton was supposedly waiting for his return. They were going to a movie then out for a late dinner. Door unlocked, he pushed it open finding the room dark, the only illumination the sunlight coming through the window. Sitting in a desk chair in the middle of the room was Peyton, naked, slowly stroking a hard cock.

“Suck my dick,” Peyton uttered in a flat tone.

Braxton stood frozen in place, unsure what Peyton was up to, then he heard the sniggering.

“Ass; you scared me.”

“Is that a no?” Peyton joked, holding up his cock, wagging it back and forth.

“I didn’t say that,” Braxton replied, laughing at the scenario, the silliness of it. He tossed his duffel bag down on the floor, pulled the tank top off, and as he walked to Peyton, worked the sweatpants and boxers down his legs, stepping out of them just as he got to him. He went to his knees and took the leaking cock.

Before long, ass on the edge of the seat, body stretched out and leaned back, Peyton began to pump his hips, fucking the mouth held still for him. He ran a hand over the top of the head moving up and down, fingers combing through the wet hair.

“Yeah…suck me…” Peyton whispered as he watched his cock disappear in Braxton’s mouth, then reappear wet and shiny.

Braxton stroked his own cock, built up his arousal. It spurned him to suck harder, to work his mouth on Peyton’s cock with abandon.

“Fuck, I’m going to…” Peyton exclaimed, then shuddered with release.  He filled Braxton’s mouth and felt the swallowing around his cock as Braxton took all he pumped out.

“Fuck…stop…stop…” Peyton exclaimed, pushing Braxton off his cock, the continued stimulation too much.

Braxton leaned back on his heels and looked hungrily at Peyton. Peyton saw Braxton’s cock was wet, slimy with cum. He leaned forward and saw cum was puddled under his chair. He smiled, then put on a stoic face before sitting back. He stared at Braxton then pointed to the floor underneath his chair.

“Lick it up.”