The house thumped with bass from someone’s Bluetooth speaker while the rugby lads sank beers at an alarming rate. Empty cans piled up on the coffee table like trophies. Every time Matt or Dan tried to shove another drink into Jake’s hand, Tom casually intercepted it, swapping it for a half-empty one or taking a big swig himself.
“Easy, lads,” Tom laughed. “He’s still growing.”
Jake shot him a grateful look, already feeling the warm buzz from the shots they’d lined up earlier. He was small compared to these giants; if he matched them drink for drink he’d be unconscious before the clubs even opened.
Tom had claimed the small two-seater sofa for them both. His broad frame took up most of it, so Jake was tucked in tight against his side—close enough that no one batted an eye. Just two mates sharing a seat. But under the cover of the armrest, Tom’s fingers traced lazy lines up and down Jake’s spine, dipping to the curve of his hip and back again. Each pass left goosebumps blooming across Jake’s skin and a slow heat pooling low in his belly.
The chat was loud and crude—rugby stories, uni gossip, the usual grilling from Ryan about girls. “Come on, Jake, anyone catching your eye at college yet?” Ryan pressed, grinning over his can.
Jake tensed, mumbling something vague about being busy with training. Tom jumped in smoothly, steering the conversation to Ryan’s latest failed Tinder date, and Ryan was off, gesturing wildly while the room roared with laughter.
A round of shots led to a brief, chaotic game of truth or dare.
Ryan, predictably, picked dare and ended up disappearing to the bathroom with a razor. He returned ten minutes later, jeans round his ankles, proudly flashing a freshly shaved crotch to catcalls and applause.
Jake’s turn. Matt grinned evilly. “Truth—still a virgin, mate?”
The room went “oooh.” Jake felt his face burn. He glanced at Tom, who gave the tiniest encouraging nod.
“Uh… not anymore,” Jake managed, trying to sound casual. “Happened a few weeks ago. Was… pretty intense.”
The lads whooped and clapped him on the back. Tom jumped in with perfect timing: “Yeah, yeah, we get it mysterious older woman, swept him off his feet. Spare us the details, Romeo.”
Everyone cracked up, and the moment passed.
Tom’s dare was to eat squirty cream off someone’s nipples and belly button. He scanned the room theatrically, then pointed at Jake. “Only one I trust to have actually showered today.”
The lads howled. Jake’s heart hammered as he lifted his shirt. Tom shook the can, sprayed a dollop on each nipple and a swirl in Jake’s navel. He leaned in slow flicked his tongue deliberately over one nipple, eyes locked on Jake’s as he winked. Then he moved to the other, sucking it openly, drawing it into his mouth until Jake had to bite his lip to stay quiet. The room erupted in cheers and whistles.
“Lower, lower!” Dan chanted.
Tom just laughed, licked the cream from Jake’s belly button with exaggerated relish, then stood, pulled Jake up with him, and kissed him full on the mouth pushing a sweet mouthful of cream between Jake’s lips. The lads lost it completely, thinking it was pure banter.
Eventually they piled out into the night, a rowdy pack heading for the club strip. Inside, the main floor was packed pounding chart music, flashing lights, sweat and spilled drinks. They danced as a group at first, shouting over the bass, throwing shapes like idiots.
One by one the others peeled off Ryan chatting up a brunette at the bar, Matt and Dan disappearing into the throng in search of talent.
Tom grabbed Jake’s hand. “Come with me.”
He tugged Jake through the crowd, down a narrow staircase to the basement floor. The music shifted indie guitars, slower beats, dim red lighting. Far fewer people, mostly students in band tees.
“They hate it down here,” Tom shouted over the music, grinning. “Too ‘hipster’ for the rugby boys.”
Jake stopped on the bottom step. “You sure? What if someone sees you with…”
Tom cut him off with a laugh. “Pretty sure as a rugby lad I’d get more stick for not being close to my mates. Relax.”
He laced their fingers properly and pulled Jake into the smaller crowd. They started dancing innocent at first, just two friends messing about, laughing as they moved to the beat. But the drinks flowed, the lights pulsed, and the distance between them shrank.
Soon Jake’s back was to Tom’s chest, Tom’s hands on his hips guiding the sway. Then roaming up under Jake’s shirt, down to cup his ass. Jake ground back shamelessly, feeling Tom harden against him. Their mouths found each other in the dark, kissing slow and deep, then hungry and desperate.
Jake’s hand slipped between them, palming Tom through his jeans, then daring lower unbuttoning, sliding inside to wrap around the hot, heavy length of him. Tom groaned into Jake’s ear, hips rocking forward.
“Come on,” he rasped. “Let’s cool down.”
They stumbled outside to the smoking area, the cold air a shock after the heat inside. Tom bummed two cigarettes off a stranger. Jake took one, coughed dramatically on the first drag, eyes watering. Tom laughed, took it from him, and stubbed both out half-smoked.
Then he steered Jake to a shadowed corner away from the crowd, pressed him gently against the brick wall, and kissed him again slow, filthy, claiming.
Tom’s hands went to Jake’s belt, popping the button, easing the zip down just enough. He sucked one thick finger into his own mouth, wetting it thoroughly, then reached behind. Jake gasped as the finger circled, teased, then pushed inside slow, deliberate.
“Shit… Tom…” Jake whimpered into the curve of Tom’s neck, legs trembling.
“You’re so tight, Jakey,” Tom murmured, voice rough. “Feels like silk.”
He withdrew, sucked both finger and middle finger this time, tasting Jake with a low growl, then slid both back in deeper, scissoring gently until he crooked them just right. Jake’s vision whited out; he saw stars, knees buckling.
Tom held him up easily. “Call me daddy again,” he whispered against Jake’s ear.
“Please, daddy,” Jake breathed, clinging to Tom’s shoulders. “Please… my hole is yours. Use it, please.”
Jake’s hand found Tom’s bulge again rock-hard, throbbing under denim.
Tom pulled his fingers free, brought them to his own mouth and sucked them clean with deliberate slowness. “God, your pussy tastes amazing, baby boy.” His eyes were dark, pupils blown. “Let’s go home. I’m gonna fucking tear your shit up tonight. Make you feel so good, Jakey.”
Jake whimpered, nodding frantically against Tom’s neck.
“Yes, please.”
Tom zipped Jake up, stole one last bruising kiss, then grabbed his hand and led him out of the alley toward the taxi rank both of them buzzing, desperate, counting the minutes until they were alone.
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