Author's note : okay and i messed up the 'Next' part in chapter 5 haha!
Malik had settled into a new rhythm, from his busy days selling on and around campus, to his quiet nights, just him and Carl holed up in the apartment. The quiet got interrupted regularly, though, with Tyson’s gold-toothed grin, Jake’s crude swagger, or Ryan’s whispers of love.
Out with his boys, the vibe had shifted. Dre was the loudest, asking how Carly was doing, casual at first, but the questions piling up, sneaky and sharp. The clothes drew compliments, occasional remarks. Malik shrugged it off, keeping it vague.
The nights ended solo, always the same way. Carl sleeping in his room, Malik sprawled on the couch, naked and sweaty as he stroked himself, joint smoldering between his fingers, making himself as high as he was horny. He’d replay it all: Tyson’s rough hands, Jake’s sweaty feet, Ryan’s soft lips, his own personal porn site… cum hit his stomach and chest, drenching him just for his boxers to wipe it all off and end up sloppy onto the floor for Carl to find later.
Carl would scoop them up in the morning, no words, just a shy flush creeping up his neck as he tossed took them to the bathroom with the rest of the dirty laundry, and Malik watched, chain-smoking over coffee, dick twitching at the thought of Carl cleaning his mess, whichever way he chose to to it…
It was a routine and he liked it.
Then Jake started snapping. Constantly, like a fucking faucet dripping, pinging Malik’s phone all damn day. It kicked off light with dumb memes, until Malik found himself smiling, texting back faster and faster. He knew the quarterback was growing on him, with his insulting charm he couldn’t shake. It hit harder when Jake rolled in for Carl and Malik watched from the couch, Jake daring him with his eyes, reminding him that as soon as Jake came, he’d send Carl to the shower and ask for his protein.
One night, Malik sprawled on the couch, trying to smoke himself to sleep, long past Carl’s bedtime. He’d cum already, the boxers already balled up on the floor in the middle of the living room, but the nut and all the weed prior had not been enough to make him tip over into sleep. His phone buzzed, and Jake’s avatar flashed on the screen. Malik swiped the message open, and the screen lit up.
A video of Jake, naked, doggy-style in front of a mirror. His pale ass was thrust back, his nine inches were swinging heavily between his thighs, the angle caught every flex of his quads, every curve of his cheeks, his insane smile as he glanced back at the camera.
Malik’s breath caught, the video looping endlessly as he stared, realizing it wasn’t a disappearing message. That Jake wanted him to keep it.
He texted back fast, “u ok?” as if holding on to the pretense they could have a normal friendship. Did Malik even want that?
The reply came immediately, no video this time, just a pic: Jake standing front-facing in the same mirror, still buck naked, dark hair mussed and sweaty like he’d been partying or playing, cock hard and angry, veiny and thick, a faint smirk curling his lips. The caption was all Jake: “do u think im hot nigger?”
Malik swiped to reply, “yeah everyone thinks you’re hot,” keeping it cool, vague.
Jake answered with just text, no pic. “i know but u”
“im not gay”
Jake’s avatar was still present in the conversation, and he replied immediately: “did you think i was nigger? answer the question”.
Malik typed slowly, “yeah you’re hot”, feeling the weight of every letter.
Jake fired back: “why u think im hot?”
Malik’s head spun. “u got that quarterback build fam. tight muscles ripped chest big arms thick legs u know” he typed, picturing it. Jake’s pecs flexing, covered in his load. His insane smile. “you got a pretty smile too”
The next Snap wasn’t text, just a vocal. Jake’s voice rasping came through the phone, “Say more, dealer, tell me why you think I’m hot.”
Malik caught it. Jake’s breath hitching, the faint slick sound under the words… the quarterback was dick in hand, stroking himself, chasing Malik’s praise.
Malik slid his hand to his own cock, suddenly leaking again, as he a vocal as well, “Man, your cock’s big, thick as fuck, you got those veins, shit, it might be as big as mine,” he whispered.
His phone vibrated. Jake was calling.
Malik swiped it without thinking about why he did it so quick, “Yo,” hand still moving slowly over his own cock.
Jake’s ragged, heavy breath hit the line. “You like my ass in that pic, dealer? Tell me.” The question was blunt, urgent, his voice trembling with need.
Malik hesitated. “Yeah,” he said finally, hand speeding up. He leaned down and spat on his cock, loud enough for Jake to hear him do it.
Jake groaned, “Fuck, nigger, say it again,” stroking loud enough to be heard through the phone.
Malik’s dick throbbed harder, strokes matching Jake’s rhythm. “I’m gonna keep that fucking video, Jake.”
“You fucking better, nigger.” Jake’s voice cracked, “You hard, fam?”
Malik grunted, “Yeah, cracker, real hard,” before pulling hard on the joint, trying to get himself comfortable. “That ass, man,” he whispered, “tight, thick, fucking round,” Malik rasped.
Jake kept moaning, “Shit, nigger, keep going, keep talking about my ass, gimme more, fucking nigger,” low and urgent through the phone.
“Cracker, that ass is fucking prime, thick from all them squats, smooth but strong, and the hole looks tight as hell, like it’s begging for something.”
“Shit, nigger… I love hearing that, keep going…”
“What you want me to do with that ass, cracker?” Malik asked, feigning anger. “Why you sending it?”
Jake’s voice was a mess, no longer hitting his usual register, “Whatever you want, nigger, fuck, whatever,”
Those “niggers” kept hitting like a match to gas. Malik growled back, “Aight, cracker, but whatever I do to that ass, I’m spanking it first for calling me that.”
Jake was letting out squeals. “Yes, nigger, fuck, yes,” his words descending into incoherence before a long, shuddering moan spilled through. Malik could imagine the wet splatter of cum over Jake’s abs.
The line went quiet as Jake’s breath slowed. His voice came again, finally. He sounded calm, satisfied, with no rush or regret, “Thanks, dealer, I fucking needed that. Talk tomorrow, man,” and the call clicked off.
Malik kept the phone in hand a few minutes more as he got up to pick his boxers off the floor. It took him less than a minute to make himself come into them, watching Jake’s doggy style video, now saved in chat by Jake himself. A gift the quarterback had given him.
Malik hadn’t been the best at giving gifts, lately.
Carl’s door was cracked, the room dark but for a sliver of streetlight sneaking through the blinds, casting thin lines over his skinny body. He was curled on his side, sandy hair mussed on the pillow, blanket kicked half-off his legs.
Malik stood there, eyes tracing Carl. The cumrag was heavy in his hand, thickened with his two loads of the night. He came to the edge of the bed and laid the rag next to Carl’s face, very close, inches from his nose.
Carl didn’t stir, so Malik lingered, watching. This was his gift, and it was time he started making it clear.
Next : Tyson does actually introduce a new friend for real
