From Thanksgiving to Exams
Rob & Charlie Reconnect
The Friday evening light leaked through the blinds of Charlie Andersen's dorm room. He'd been back in Charlottesville for six days, and half his brain was still in Richmond.
Charlie sat on the edge of his bed, a history text open in his lap, but his eyes weren't moving across the page. They were fixed on the wall, unfocused, seeing instead the image that had been burned into his mind for the past week.
Noah Drake's body above him.
Charlie closed his eyes and let the memory wash over him, the way it always did when he was alone and the darkness pressed in. Noah's eight-pack glistening with sweat in the dim light of his childhood bedroom. The blue of his eyes gone almost black with lust. The way his hands had gripped Charlie's hips, manhandling him into position like he weighed nothing.
He felt a familiar stir in his gut.
It had been the most intense experience of Charlie's life. Nothing had prepared him for it—not the whispered fantasies he'd started having freshman year, not the fumbling exploration and loss of his virginity with Rob Hawthorne that had preceded it. Noah had ignited a fire that had burned through every assumption Charlie had made about himself.
But it had also been degrading in ways Charlie was still trying to understand.
He opened his eyes and looked at his phone on the nightstand. Rob's name glowed in his recent messages, the last text from him reading simply: We need to talk. Pizza tomorrow? Charlie had stared at that message for the better part of an hour before replying with a single word. Okay.
He'd been avoiding Rob for six days. They'd been back on campus since the semester resumed, living in the same dorm complex, moving through the same social circles, and Charlie had gone out of his way to be anywhere Rob wasn't. He'd eaten at different dining halls. He'd trained at different times. He'd invented conflicts to skip gatherings when he knew Rob would be there.
The guilt was eating him alive.
Not just because he'd slept with someone else—though that was part of it. In that dark, uncertain moment at the end of last semester, he and Rob had given each other something like permission. A mutual understanding. We're both figuring this out. That doesn't mean we're together. It doesn't mean we owe each other anything.
But Charlie hadn't thought of it that way when Noah had touched him.
The memory sharpened without warning: Noah seeking him out like a predator. His mouth on his neck, Noah's hands moving down his body, Noah's voice in his ear with that low, commanding tone that made Charlie's knees weak. Noah manhandling him and then pounding him.
Charlie had cum harder than he'd come in his life.
He'd also felt smaller than he'd ever felt in his life.
There was a contradiction at the core of that night that Charlie couldn't reconcile. He'd always been the one in charge—prom king, lacrosse star, the guy everyone looked up to and wanted to be. He dated cheerleaders and danced with the homecoming court. He was the one people came to for advice because he had his life together.
Then Noah Drake had looked at him with those blue eyes and said, “Take your clothes off.” and every ounce of Charlie's carefully constructed alpha status had dissolved into a puddle of desperate, wanting submission.
The worst part was how much he'd loved it.
He checked his phone again. Rob still hadn't responded to Charlie's confirmation of their pizza date. Not that Charlie had expected him to. They had been dancing around each other like they were both walking on eggshells, each of them waiting for the other to break the silence.
Charlie put the phone down and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The question that had been haunting him for days returned with renewed force: What if Noah's casual callousness was what he actually deserved? What if his entire life before this—the popularity, the easy confidence, the effortless success with girls—had been a disguise for this deeper truth that he was just a slut disguised as a prom king? A set of hands that looked chiseled, built from a lifetime of lacrosse, but there for other men’s pleasure. A body to be used.
He thought about texting Rob. He thought about calling him. He even opened the conversation to type, but the words wouldn't come.
“I'm sorry.”
“I let this guy from high school fuck me and I came harder than anything I've ever experienced, and I know that should have made me feel dirty but maybe that's exactly why it made me feel so good.”
Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like it would adequately explain the storm of emotions raging in his chest.
So instead, he did what he'd been doing every night since he got back. He waited until his roommate was asleep. He pulled up the video Noah had sent him —clearly at a party, clearly high, clearly having no idea how much Charlie would watch it. Noah laughing with his arm around a girl had become a guilty entertainment in itself. Noah rubbing his down his crotch where his dick was semi-hard. He winked at the camera. At Charlie.
Charlie would watch it on loop, wishing it were him. Then he’d edge for as long as he could take it before he came with Noah's name on his lips and his hand wrapped around a cock that he’d only ever let another man touch once.
He was pathetic.
Saturday couldn't come soon enough.
---
Across the courtyard, two floors up in a different building, Rob Hawthorne was having a very similar night.
He sat in the dark of his room, headphones on but no music playing, trying to work up the nerve to do the one thing he knew he needed to do. A note to Charlie, perhaps? A voice note? Something more permanent than the series of text messages he’d rehearsed in his head for the better part of the week.
“Hey, so, funny story. You know how you said we should explore? Well, I let Tyler Worth fuck me in the team gym, and it was the most intense, degrading, incredible moment of my life, and now I can't stop thinking about him and I don't know what that means.”
No, not that. He'd delete and rewrite every time.
Rob had been avoiding his own reflection since Saturday. Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the ghost of Tyler's body pressed against his, heard Tyler's voice in his ear, felt Tyler's hands on his skin. The image was inescapable, burned into his consciousness like a brand.
It called to him in punishing ways each night. He would lie in bed and replay the memory, from the first electrifying press of Tyler’s cock against his hole, to the crushing, total mental and physical dominance that followed. Tyler consumed him, even in his absence. No hookup, no quick fumble with a coed, could compare to the brutal, effortless way Tyler had dismantled his sense of self.
The sex had been incredible. There was no other word for it. Tyler’s strength was palpable in every thrust. He handled Rob like he was nothing more than a vessel for Tyler's pleasure. And God, Rob had loved every minute of it. He'd loved the way Tyler commanded him, the way Tyler didn't ask permission but simply took what he wanted. The way Tyler complimented his hairy ass that he was self-conscious about. The way Tyler had filled him so completely that Rob felt like his entire existence had been leading to that one moment of being totally owned by another man.
No girl had ever made Rob feel that way. No girl had come close to the consuming intensity of Tyler's possession.
But after the cruelty of Tyler's departure, the sex felt nothing more than a slick transaction.
Maybe we'd do it again sometime, Tyler had said. But his tone said definitely not, and his exit was full of purposeful disinterest. Rob had lain there on the mat, cum leaking out of his ass. Used. No tender kiss. He'd felt like something to be discarded, a warm body to occupy his time on a boring evening.
Rob knew it was bad to want Tyler more for that. There was no future in that hunt—just the certainty of more emptiness if he ever got caught in that trap. Maybe that was part of the appeal. The thought of being pursued by Tyler only to be rejected again held a dark fascination that Rob hated.
He was supposed to be the witty, charming one. The golden boy who had girls lining up and could make anyone laugh. He’d had enough girlfriends to know there was something fundamentally different between what he felt for them and what he felt when Tyler had pulled his hair and called him a good boy.
It was Tyler's confidence that had undone Rob. The absolute certainty in his voice when he said spread your legs and Rob had obeyed without thought. Rob was usually the one in charge, the one making jokes and setting the tone. With Tyler, he had taken on the entirely new role of a man submitting, and it had rewritten every script in his head.
Charlie had been hesitant, almost gentle, when they'd fucked each other before break. Charlie had asked permission before every touch, before every step deeper into their mutual discovery. That had made Rob feel safe, even cherished.
But Tyler didn't ask. Tyler took. And Rob discovered that being taken by force of will was a completely different ache than being invited into shared vulnerability.
He knew Tyler had watched him fumble with his questions about Charlie. When Tyler said he wanted a piece of Rob's hot ass, Rob felt a new, tangled coil of lust at the idea that a guy had seen him be vulnerable, and chosen to overpower him anyway.
He couldn't reconcile the conflict.
He'd also given Charlie permission to explore before Tyler had stepped in. They had been leaning toward something, but the conversation had been cut short too soon, and Rob had only assumed that exploration was open. Now, with the physical distance of the break, he found himself drowning in doubt.
Maybe he owed Charlie more than a casual breakfast. Maybe he owed Charlie an explanation of the dark desires Tyler had exposed.
He looked at his phone again, rereading their brief exchange. Saturday. Pizza. A conversation that was going to be far more difficult than he was ready to have.
Rob let out a long breath. There was no point rehearsing again. The only thing left to do was wait. He pulled up Tyler's Instagram, looked at the photos from winter break, and felt the familiar, disturbing throb of envy and shame. Tyler had been skiing with a group of friends, his arm around a girl in every shot.
Rob hated how much the sight of Tyler's life and Tyler's body made him want to touch himself with such urgency.
Saturday couldn't come soon enough.
---
The pizza place was called College Inn, a student favorite that had been operating on the Corner for decades. It was a dive, the lights were dim, the floors got sticky. But the pizza was cheap and the booths offered enough privacy that two guys could have an uncomfortable conversation without half the school overhearing.
Charlie arrived first. He had purposefully shown up twenty minutes early with the desperate need to get a corner booth and settle his nerves. He sat with his back to the wall, facing the door, watching the Friday-night crowd ebb and flow around him. His leg was bouncing under the table.
Rob walked in at 7:02, a vision of heather gray sweats and an untucked button-down. He spotted Charlie immediately and raised something between a wave and an acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.
Charlie's throat tightened as he watched Rob approach. He’d missed him. It was a shock to the system and yet, as he looked at Rob’s light brown hair and familiar build, he felt an undercurrent of shame for allowing another man’s hands to wander where Rob's had.
Rob slid into the booth across from him. "Hey," he said, his voice a little flat. A brief, awkward silence settled between them.
"Hey," Charlie managed.
"I ordered a large pepperoni," Charlie said, looking at the laminated menu without seeing it. "Figured we'd split it. If you want something else though, we can—"
"Pepperoni's fine."
Another silence. The kind that weighed a ton and filled the air like toxic smoke.
"Look," Rob finally said, setting the menu down and meeting Charlie's gaze for the first time. "We're going to do a lot of pussyfooting around each other and I can't handle that. I've been a wreck all week. Can we just be honest with each other? About what happened over break?"
Charlie's chest constricted. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He was catapulted back to the memory of Noah's hand over his mouth, holding him down on the mattress.
"College Inn Pizza is as good a confessional as any," Rob added flatly. "No one's listening, I need to say some things out loud that I’ve been trying to convince myself aren’t real."
Charlie took a deep breath. His stomach churned. Beneath the table his knuckles were white as he interlaced his fingers and made a decision.
"Me too. I slept with a guy from my high school," he said, rushing the words out before he could lose his nerve. The confession hung in the air between them, ugly and raw. "Wednesday night of break. His parents' house. I should re-phrase that: I got fucked by a friend from high school."
Rob leaned back, absorbing the information. Looking at the shell-shocked expression on Charlie's face, his gut twisted.
"How was it?" Rob asked. It wasn't judgmental, simply an honest query.
Charlie let out a shaky exhale. "Honestly? It was…" Words failed him. He couldn't describe the intensity he had experienced. "It was pretty hot, Rob. It was overwhelming. He's so experienced, and so confident that—fuck, I have never felt anything like that in my life," Charlie broke off, rubbing his face. "But I'm also kind of disgusted with myself, because he treated me like I was just a piece of meat, and I just let him. I was into it. He somehow figured out I’d be into dick and just took me. I haven't been able to shake the feeling since that he was using me, and that I was some willing whore for him. Not a person to him, not even a teammate, just a hole."
Rob winced at the starkness of Charlie’s phrasing, but he didn't interrupt. He didn't look away.
"I didn't fight it," Charlie continued, his voice gaining momentum. "He made me feel like a little slut. And the thing is, the whole time, I just kept thinking about you. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop; it’s that I wanted him to be you. I wanted the gentleness we'd had. But I was so far gone by then, Rob. I knew if I asked him to stop, he would have stopped—Noah's an asshole, but he’s not a rapist. But I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to wreck me. And now I don't know what that says about me." He paused, looking down. "I felt guilty because it was happening behind your back, just because we’d said we could explore."
"You didn't stray," Rob said firmly. "We weren't exclusive."
"I know. But it felt like straying." Charlie swallowed. "It felt like I was cheating on the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn't crazy for being attracted to guys."
Rob took a long breath. Something loosened in his chest as he saw his own conflict reflected in Charlie's face. He knew he wasn't imagining it.
"Okay," he said quietly. "So… I don’t know how to tell you this, but I got fucked too."
Charlie blinked, his mouth falling open. "What?"
"Tyler Worth." Rob grimaced. "He took me right there in the athletics gym. While we were back for training."
"Tyler?" Charlie was floored. "I knew it."
"Yup. You were right." Rob leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "He basically put me on the gym mat, ate my ass and fucked me so hard that I saw stars. I'm not going to lie and say it wasn't incredible Charlie, because it was." Rob paused, his blunt honesty sending a jolt of electricity through the air. "But he didn't even say goodbye when he was done. He just got dressed and left. Made it pretty clear I was just a piece of ass to him, too."
Charlie was quiet for a moment, processing this information. He remembered Tyler’s intensity, his confidence. He started to get hard thinking of it translating into sex.
"So you got used too," Charlie said. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah." Rob stared at the ketchup bottle. "I thought it would be a release. Like, the thing I needed to get out of my system. And it was the hottest sex I have ever had in my entire life." He met Charlie’s eyes. "But the connection wasn't there. And I felt cheap because I let him treat me that way, and what’s worse, I wanted it."
Charlie's mouth went dry. He knew exactly what Rob meant.
"I spent the rest of break feeling dirty, but also, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about how strong he was, how he wasn't asking for my permission." Rob looked at the table. "He was using me," he continued, piecing the realization together, "to get off. And he discarded me. I meant nothing to him. And the fact that I want to do it again with him anyway scares me more than anything."
Charlie nodded slowly. The same terror ran through his veins. "I wonder if that's just what this is," he murmured. "If a guy is just… what being with a guy feels like for guys who are used to being in control. It's a different kind of play."
"It's a different kind of power," Rob said, looking at his hands. "I've never been on the receiving end of that and I don't think I realized how it feels to have someone just take."
"And I don't think I realized that I might want that too," Charlie said, a confession and an admission.
The pizza arrived. They both fell silent as the server set it between them, the pepperoni still bubbling in the heat. Charlie reached for a slice, and Rob did the same. They chewed in hurried, hungry silence. The conversation had opened a door, and even though it felt uncomfortable, it felt better than being sealed shut.
"I think," Charlie said slowly, swallowing a bite, "that we need to stop thinking that being with each other has to follow a traditional script."
Rob looked at him, curiosity sparking in his gaze.
"What do you mean by that?"
Charlie took a steadying breath. He thought about what Noah had given him—the experience of being utterly dominated. The realization was a slow, uncomfortable bloom in his chest.
"What would happen if we were together?" he asked, barreling forward. "Not just fumbling in the dark. But actually together. We take turns maybe. We let each other have time to figure out what we like without worrying about being judged. I'm not saying I want to be with Noah or Tyler. I'm saying… I want to be with you. But I don't know how to be with a guy in a way that feels like it fits."
Rob set his slice down, staring at Charlie. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I still want to be with you," Charlie repeated, holding his gaze. "I like you. I like being around you. We… this is the first time where I feel like being with a guy is something that I might actually want for more than just a night."
Rob's throat felt tight. He understood now. Charlie wasn't trying to trap him in a relationship; he was offering an opportunity for exploration.
"What if we can't be what the other one wants?" Rob asked, making himself say the harsh question out loud.
"Then we figure that out when we get there." Charlie's jaw set. "But I know I don't want to walk away from you because I'm scared of not having all the answers. We’ll go glow."
Rob considered this for a long time. The truth was, he hadn't been imagining his future with a guy. It was too new. But he did know that his connection with Charlie, fumbling and uncertain as it was, had become something he didn't want to lose.
"Okay," Rob said finally. "We’ll take it slowly."
"Okay?" Charlie repeated.
The tension that had been knotted in Charlie's stomach finally eased, the knot loosening enough for him to take a full breath.
"I don't want to keep avoiding you," Charlie said. "This week was miserable."
"It was," Rob agreed. "I feel like I've been living in my own head."
"Let's not do that," Charlie said. "But tonight I’m wiped out. I’m gonna head out. "
Rob replied, "Good idea, man. Catch you later."
As Rob watched Charlie leave, all he could think was, “Damn, that’s a fine ass.”
--
The next two weeks bled together in a haze of caffeine, highlighters, and the anxiety of finals season. Charlie barely slept. His days were a blur of practice, study sessions in the library that stretched into the dead hours of night, and protein bars eaten over open textbooks. His history final was brutal. The essay section alone had taken him three hours, and he'd walked out of the exam hall with his hand cramping and his brain feeling like scrambled eggs.
Rob, it turned out, was even worse. His sports psychology final required a twenty-page paper that he'd procrastinated on until the night before it was due. They hadn't slept together since before Thanksgiving. They hadn't even kissed. They’d run into each other - a couple of near misses where Charlie felt the electricity crackling between them, but they'd both pulled back, by unspoken agreement, clinging to the promise that they'd go slow.
The promise had felt like a sensible choice at the time.
Now it was just making Charlie hard at completely inopportune moments.
It got so bad that Charlie started wearing loose shorts to the library, because otherwise the sight of Rob biting his pen while studying, mouth red and skin flushed from the heat of the room, made him tent his sweatpants, and he didn't need that kind of embarrassment following him around the top floor of Clemons Library.
They texted constantly. Mostly stupid stuff—memes, complaints about professors, pictures of food from the dining hall. But sometimes the texts turned more serious, heading into the territory they'd both agreed they needed to talk about.
Rob: I keep thinking about what you said. about us trying to figure out what feels right without worrying about judgment
Charlie: yeah?
Rob: I've never really let myself think about being with a guy beyond like. you know. the physical stuff
Rob: this is hard to say
Charlie: you can tell me anything
Rob: I think about your dick a lot
Rob: and that scares the shit out of me
Charlie set his phone down and looked at his reflection in the window, pulse hammering. His own face stared back at him, perpetually caught between who he was and who he was becoming. Then he picked the phone back up.
Charlie: i think that makes my dick happy
Rob: Well I think the two of them should meet - lmao
Charlie: meet me after my chem final tomorrow?
Rob: it's a date
---
The last exam ended at five o'clock on Friday. Charlie practically sprinted back to his dorm, heart pounding with the double-engine of relief and anticipation. He'd aced his chemistry final, answered every blue book question until his hand seized, and all he could think about was the fact that Rob was waiting for him.
Rob's room was on the third floor of Metcalf. Charlie knocked, breathless, hair still damp from the hurried shower he'd taken after his exam.
Rob opened the door.
"Hey," Rob said. He was wearing a pair of faded khakis that hung low on his hips and a thin white t-shirt that was slightly see-through in the fluorescent light of the hallway. His hair was damp from his own shower. God, he looked beautiful.
"Hey." Charlie's voice came out croakier than he'd intended.
Rob stepped aside, letting Charlie in. The room was spotless, windows open, the late spring air drifting in with the scent of cut grass and humidity. Something that sounded like lo-fi music played from Rob's laptop.
They stood about two feet apart, just looking at each other. A beat of silence so charged it felt like the air itself had turned to static.
"I've been thinking about you all week," Rob admitted, dropping his gaze. "It's been a real problem. Got a boner in the middle of my economics exam just thinking about the way your voice sounds when you get sleepy."
Charlie felt heat rising in his own chest and traveling south. "That's. Specific."
"Shut up." Rob laughed. "You know how it is. I swear, looking at the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating is going to be the death of my academic career."
There was something hypnotically honest about it, the way Rob said it, all nervous energy and sincere desire.
Charlie couldn't help but smile. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either. It's been driving me crazy," Charlie admitted. "I kept trying to study. But I was just replaying that night at the pizza place. When you said you were willing to try. And I couldn't think about anything else."
"After the party tonight," Rob said. "We'll have all the time in the world."
"After the party," Charlie agreed.
"Text me when you're ready," Rob said. "Wear the speedo."
A jolt shot through Charlie's stomach, straight down to his hardening cock. "The speedo?"
Rob's smile turned wolfish. "From that day at the pool."
Charlie's mouth went dry. He remembered the swim, remembered the way they'd both been in their tight racing suits, the material hugging every inch of skin. Remembered the way Charlie couldn't stop checking out the outline of Rob's big cock through the fabric, the weight of it, the promise. The way they’d almost hooked up in the locker room shower but panicked.
"Of course I kept them," Charlie said.
"Wear them," Rob repeated. "Under a pair of those faded jeans of yours. The ones that sit low."
"Is there a reason we're wearing speedos to a party?"
Rob gave him a long look, something dark flickering in his eyes. "I want to see you in them. All night. I want to know that you're wearing them when you're dancing. I want to know that you're thinking about me while those girls are grinding on you."
"You just want to look at my ass."
"That too," Rob said, grinning. "But the main benefit is whatever happens after. When we're back here. And I get to take them off you."
Charlie drove his hands into his pockets to hide the growing bulge in his own jeans. "Okay. Okay, fuck, that's. That's hot."
"Good," Rob said. His voice was already going husky. "I'm glad you think so. Because I've got a plan, Charlie. And it starts at the party, and it ends with me burying my face between your legs."
They were silent for a moment as lust hit them like a blast furnace.
"I should go get ready," Charlie said, his voice cracking.
"Yeah," Rob breathed. "Yeah, you probably should."
Go, he told himself. Go now. If he stayed another second in this room with Rob's eyes on him like that, he wasn't going to make it to the party at all.
Charlie turned and practically fled the room.
---
The Zete house was a huge house with a perfect location mansion that generations of fraternity brothers had managed to keep in a perpetual state of decay. This was a big lacrosse fraternity so Charlie pretty much knew everyone. By the time Charlie arrived with a few friends from the team, the party was already in full swing. Red Solo cups everywhere. Music thumping through the walls. Bodies everywhere.
Charlie pushed through the crowd, the fabric of his speedo rubbing against the denim of his jeans with every step. It was a reminder of Rob's promise, and it kept him half-hard even as he made his way to the bar in the kitchen.
He spotted Rob almost immediately.
Rob was standing near the beer pong table, laughing at something one of his soccer teammates said. He was wearing a pair of impossibly faded Levi's that hugged his ass like they'd been painted on.
Rob caught his eye. They held the gaze for a moment from across the room — a silent message that said, I'm wearing them too, and I can't wait until we get out of here.
Then a blonde girl stepped into Charlie's line of vision, blocking his view.
"Charlie Andersen!" She was a familiar face — maybe from his psych class or one of the parties he'd attended early in the year. Her hand was already on his chest. "I never see you out anymore. Where have you been hiding?"
"Exams," Charlie shouted over the music. "Studying."
"Studying?" She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "That's no fun. Let me get you a drink."
She pressed a cup of something sweet and alcoholic into his hand. Charlie took a sip. It was jungle juice, dangerously potent, and the warmth spread through his chest. She was hot, with long blonde hair and legs that went on forever, and a year ago Charlie would have spent his whole night trying to take her home.
Now all he could think about was the way Rob had looked at him when he'd told him to keep the speedo on.
"Is it okay if I dance with some girls?" Charlie had texted Rob from the bedroom.
Rob had replied: Of course, dumbass.
But the response arrived with his eyebrows raised and a smile playing on his lips. Feeling emboldened, Charlie had returned to the party to see Rob across the room with a girl pressed up against him, grinding their hips together in a way that made Charlie's stomach do a strange flip.
He wondered what it would feel like when they were officially together, to watch Rob do that. He wondered if he'd be jealous, or if it would just be part of the game.
The blonde girl kept dancing with him — she said her name was Taylor, or maybe Talia, a name lost in the bass and the blur of jungle juice. It felt good to be wanted, to feel a woman's body rubbing against his. But even as she pressed her tits against his chest, his eyes kept finding Rob across the room, dancing with another girl, their hips brushing, his hands respectfully at her waist. Charlie could see the faint outline of Rob’s speedo the worn denim fabric.
The Zete house had a backyard patio, and at some point in the night Charlie found himself out there, the cool night air pressed against his flushed skin. The sky was full of stars; it was chilly but a bunch of folks were out there.
"Well, well. If it isn't our favorite first year."
The voice came from behind him. Charlie turned.
Tyler Worth was leaning against the railing of the patio, beer in hand, a lazy smile on his face. He had on the tightest shirt Charlie had ever seen – showing off a chest that Charlie had only ever seen glimpses of in the athletic facilities — all lean muscle and defined lines. His skin was slicked with sweat from dancing and his nipples were visible through the shirt.
"Hey, Tyler." Charlie's voice came out steadier than he felt.
"Enjoying yourself?" Tyler pushed off the railing and walked closer, appraising him with an easy confidence that made Charlie's skin prickle.
"Yeah. Great party." Charlie tried to keep his eyes level, his body language open.
"I've been watching you dance," Tyler said, lowering his voice slightly. He came to stand a little too close, his breath warm against Charlie's ear when he spoke. "That little number rubbing up against you all night was seriously lucky. You got a hell of a body, Andersen. Those jeans don't leave much to the imagination. I bet you'd look good in a little less."
t gut tightened. He knew what Tyler was doing. It was the same thing Tyler had probably done to Rob before. Seductive. Dangerous. It was Noah Part 2. He was getting hard.
"I'm good, man," Charlie said. "But thanks."
"I know you're exploring a bit," Tyler said, undeterred. He reached out and ran a single finger down the front of Charlie's shirt, his touch firm through the fabric, tracing the outline of Charlie's chest. "Rob and I had a fun time. I'm wondering…."
"If you're asking whether I'm looking for some random hookup," Charlie cut him off, "I'm not."
"Never said anything about random." Tyler's smile was sharp, seductive. He stepped back, allowing Charlie his space. "The offer's on the table," he said. "If you ever come around."
Then he was gone, absorbed by the crowd, and Charlie was left breathing the humid night air in shallow gasps.
Tyler was like a predator who could afford to be patient.
---
Half an hour later, Charlie ran into Rob in the cramped hallway that led to the bathroom. They were both flushed, slightly drunk, buzzing from a night of dancing and watching each other across the room.
"Hey." Rob grabbed Charlie's arm, pulling him into a quiet alcove away from the crowd's flow.
"Hey yourself." Charlie's heart was beating fast. Up close like this, he could smell the sweat and cologne on Rob's skin, mixing together in a way that was purely intoxicating.
"I saw Tyler talking to you." Rob's eyes flicked to the doorway, as if he was looking through the wall at the party happening inside.
"He offered me a good time," Charlie confirmed, gauging Rob's reaction.
Rob shifted his weight from foot to foot. "What did you say?"
"I told him I wasn't looking for a random hookup." Charlie stepped closer. "I was pretty clear that I was off the market."
Rob's breath hitched. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." Charlie leaned in. "Because there's this guy I'm seeing. He's a soccer player. Kind of an asshole. And he told me to wear a speedo under my jeans tonight. It's been driving me crazy all damn night."
Rob grinned. "Mission accomplished, then."
"And you?" Charlie let his hand drift down to Rob's hip, fingers brushing the denim of his jeans. "I saw you dancing with that girl. You two looked pretty cozy."
Rob shrugged, but there was a spark in his eyes. "She was cute. But I kept thinking about how you told me to keep my speedo on. And I couldn't stop picturing you doing the same."
"That good?" Charlie breathed.
"I couldn't stop picturing tearing yours off."
The tension between them was a live wire. Charlie could feel the outline of Rob's stiffening cock pressing against his thigh through both pairs of denim, and he knew Rob could feel his too. They were both aroused beyond belief, both clinging to the last shreds of self-control.
"Let’s get out of here," Charlie whispered.
Rob didn't need to be told twice.
---
They didn't make it to Rob's dorm room right away. They were kissing each other like the house was on fire the moment in the empty entry way as the dorm's front door swung shut behind them.
Fumbling, desperate, tasting stale beer and cheap jungle juice, Rob pushed Charlie against the wall of the stairwell, pressing his body against him, grinding into Charlie's crotch so they both felt the thickness of each other's cocks beneath the tight fabric of the speedos.
"I can feel you," Rob breathed against Charlie's ear, voice a low rumble as he ground their hips together more firmly. "All I've been thinking about all night, you in this."
"The game," Charlie panted. "We're supposed to be going slow."
"Fuck going slow." Rob bit Charlie's earlobe, sending a shiver down Charlie's spine. "I've been slow. I've been careful. Now I just want to feel you— I want to fuck you."
They scrambled up to Rob's room, door thrown open, bodies already reaching for each other. Rob couldn't keep his hands off Charlie. He pushed him down onto the bed, crawling over him, kissing him hard and sloppy as he worked at the button of Charlie's jeans. Charlie moaned, bucking his hips up to help.
"You have no idea how long I've been wanting this." Rob breathed, finally managing to peel off the faded jeans and toss them.
Charlie was wearing the royal blue speedo he'd worn for the swim weeks ago. The thin Lycra was stretched taut over his thick, uncut cock as it swelled beneath the pressure, the fabric already darkened with a patch of pre-cum. He was rock hard, his dick straining painfully against the thin material.
But he wasn't the only one.
Rob stripped off his khakis, revealing a pair of red speedos underneath. The fabric strained, absolutely soaked with pre-cum leaking from the tip of his huge, thick dick. It was longer than Charlie remembered, and the girth was dizzying, straining the edge of the Lycra with the promise of the monster within.
"Fuck. You actually wore it." Charlie's voice was wrecked.
"Told you," Rob said, settling his body over Charlie's, letting their cocks press together through the fabric. "I want to see you in this." He began kissing down Charlie's jaw, his neck, biting his collarbone. His rough fingertips traced the outline of Charlie's erection over the speedo, rubbing his precum into the fabric.
Charlie threw his head back, breathing hard. The spit-slicked head of his cock felt electric as Rob palmed him, applying pressure and sliding his hand to cup his balls. Charlie couldn't help but moan.
"The pool," Charlie gasped. "When we swam. I was thinking about this the whole time. The way you looked stretching out the front of your speedos."
"Me too." Rob breathed, lips ghosting over the wet patch on Charlie's speedo. "The way you were trying not to stare at me."
"Shut up." Charlie moaned, arching his back.
Rob laughed, low and filthy. Then he lowered his head, pressing his face to Charlie's bulge, and he licked a long, wet stripe right up the soaked fabric.
Charlie cried out, grabbing at the sheets. It felt indecent to feel every hot slide of Rob’s tongue, but it didn’t make it any less good.
"You like that?" Rob licked again, his tongue playing at the edge of the speedo now, at the head of Charlie's cock, pushing the material just enough that he could taste the salty slit of Charlie's leaking tip. "You like having my mouth on you? Through this little piece of fabric?"
"Fuck. Yes." Charlie bit his lip. "Rob—fuck—Rob."
Rob peeled off Charlie's speedo. The cold air hit Charlie's soaked dick and he bucked, desperate for friction. Rob stroked Charlie's dick and then brought his head down, licking a long, wet stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip, leaving a trail of glistening spit, before swallowing him down in one smooth motion.
"Holy shit." Charlie's entire body seized. Rob's throat muscles worked around him, head bobbing, hands gripping his hips so he couldn't escape.
Rob was starting to learn how to give a blowjob. He slid his lips back and forth, working from the base to the tip with an unhurried pace that was absolute torture.
He pulled off with a pop, glistening all over Charlie's dick.
"I learned a few things from Tyler," Rob said, his voice a little husky. He crawled up Charlie's body. "One being that nothing drives a guy crazier than having his ass eaten."
Charlie's cock throbbed. "Rob—"
"Roll over."
He didn't need to ask twice.
Charlie rolled onto his stomach, face pressed into Rob's pillow. He felt Rob's hands on his ass first, grabbing him. Then Rob's head dipped, and Charlie felt a hot, wet pressure against his entrance that was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.
Rob licked him.
A low moan escaped Rob as he tasted Charlie, running his tongue around the rim, once, twice, as Charlie cried out. The feeling was absolutely insane, sending a wave of pure electric fire up his spine.
"Rob!" Charlie pressed his ass back against his face, writhing.
Rob just chuckled, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin of his hole as he buried his face further. He ate Charlie with his entire mouth, slobbering, licking, sucking. He licked a line down to his balls and sucked them, lapping and licking, before moving back up to concentrate on the hole again, devouring it.
Charlie was losing his mind. His cock was throbbing, slapping against the sheets, making a mess of drool and leaking pre-cum. He was trapped in a torturous ecstasy because Rob wasn't slowing down, his tongue drilling into him.
"Fuck," he whimpered. "Please. I need you."
"I know what you need." Rob's voice was thick. He pulled his face away, and Charlie whimpered in protest. He heard Rob shuffle behind him. He spread lube along the length of his dick and around Charlie’s hole. Then the head of his thick cock teased at Charlie's entrance, slick and wet.
"You ready?" Rob asked.
"Rob, God. Yes."
Rob eased inside him.
Charlie felt a fullness that made him feel like he was splitting in two. Rob pushed and pushed, sliding deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until Charlie felt the coarse hair of Rob's groin press against his ass.
"Fuck. You feel so good," Rob whispered.
He began to thrust. Slow. Deep. Pulling out until only his head remained, then slamming back in, bottoming out once more.
Charlie was in heaven.
"More," he begged. "Rob—please—fuck me. Don't be gentle." The last few weeks of sexual frustration combined with the erotic torture earlier had made him feel desperate.
That was all Rob needed. He began to pound into Charlie. The slap of skin against skin filled the small dorm room, echoed by Charlie's cries and moans. He was more confident this time; he thought for a moment, “I’m playing the role of Tyler tonight.”
"So. Fucking. Tight." Rob gritted the words out between hungry thrusts.
He reached around and grabbed Charlie's dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
Charlie couldn't breathe. He was pinned between the mattress and Rob's hard body, and he felt himself rising, rising. Every nerve was on fire.
"Rob—I'm gonna cum," he panted.
"Do it," Rob growled. "Cum with my cock in your ass."
Charlie cried out as his orgasm ripped through him. He came hard over Rob's fist, spraying his own cum over the sheets, his whole body shuddering with the force of his climax.
But Rob didn't stop. He maneuvered Charlie so that he was sitting on his lap – they would later learn this was the reverse cowboy position. Rob plunging into Charlie through the aftershocks, relentless. Charlie gasped, overstimulated. But just when he thought he couldn't take any more, he lifted his head.
Rob had a mirror hanging on the open closet door across from the bed.
Charlie saw himself.
He looked wrecked. Face flushed, hair plastered to his forehead, the flush on his neck and chest. He saw Rob behind him, jaw clenched with strain, sweat beading on his lax player shoulders as he fucked into Charlie with single-minded focus.
He could see Rob’s dick going in and out of his ass – the sweaty hairs down there clinging to the dick as it spread his ass lips. He was completely exposed. It was the single hottest thing Charlie had ever seen.
"Rob—fuck—look at us."
Rob lifted his gaze and caught Charlie's stare in the mirror. A dark, possessive glint flashed in his eyes.
"You like watching yourself get fucked, don't you?" Rob's voice was a low snarl.
"Yes." Charlie was already getting hard again inside Rob's grip. "Don't fucking stop."
He was completely lost to the rhythm, lost to the mirror. He clenched his own muscles on Rob’s cock and saw a shiver run through Rob’s entire body.
He was going to cum again.
It was building faster and deeper than the first time. He watched, hypnotized, as Rob's fist worked his newly-hardening dick, watched his balls slap against Rob's body.
"I'm cumming again," he gasped, warning.
"I've got you." Rob's hand tightened and surged deeper.
Charlie came with a guttural cry, his cock shooting a thick, ropey load into the view of the mirror. Rob growled, trembling as he felt the force of it, and spilled deep inside him with a deep, guttural moan, collapsing over Charlie's back as he did.
For a long moment, there was no sound but their ragged breathing. The only lighting was the glow from Rob's laptop screen.
Finally, Rob pulled out slowly, a string of his own cum following. Charlie flopped onto his back, too spent to move. Rob collapsed next to him, sweaty and trembling.
"Fuck," Rob breathed.
"Yeah." Charlie couldn't find the air for more.
Rob managed to turn his head, meeting Charlie's gaze. In the dim glow of the laptop, his expression was open and unguarded.
"So," Rob said, voice ragged. "That was. Definitely a step beyond slow."
A laugh bubbled out of Charlie. "I'd say so."
Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence. Charlie turned his hand over on the sheets, palm up.
Rob laced his fingers through his, squeezing tight.
"I like this," Rob said quietly. "I like you."
"I like you too." Charlie pulled Rob's hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. "Happy end of exams."
"Happy end of exams," Rob echoed. He pressed closer, kissing Charlie softly. "Do you want to stay?"
Charlie examined his face. They had not spoken about exclusivity, but right now, with cum cooling on their stomachs and their heartbeats slowing together, he knew what he wanted.
"Yeah. I’d like that."
Well, I think this is the end of the story. I may do one epilogue chapter – maybe something over Spring Break with Noah or Tyler.
