Rob Makes a Move
The next two days were a daze for Charlie; he moved through his classes like a zombie, his thoughts a tangled mess of shame and electric memory. He kept seeing Rob’s face in the shower—the shock, the arousal, the flight. He felt the ghost of Rob’s hardness under his palm from the drunken night, the illicit thrill followed by crushing guilt. He had touched his best friend without permission. He was, he was sure, the worst kind of person. He avoided the gym, the dining hall, any place Rob might be. His phone, face-down on his desk, was a constant source of low-grade dread.
He was lying on his bed, staring at a crack in the ceiling, when the single buzz came. Not a text. A direct message on Instagram. From Rob. No words. Just a photo. It was a picture of the UVA Aquatic Center pool, empty and glowing under the fluorescent lights. The timestamp was from ten minutes ago. Another buzz. A second photo, closer: a single lane line, the water still. A third: the metal ladder descending into the deep end.
Charlie’s heart hammered against his ribs. The scene of his original sin. But this was an invitation - a wordless outreach. His fingers trembled as he typed. “Open?”
The reply was instant. “Gate’s propped. Water’s warm.”
That was all. No question?, a goodbye?, something else? —for sure, something was waiting for him in that chlorinated silence. He reached into the back of his underwear for drawer for a secret pair of 2xist dash briefs he had ordered two weeks ago – he pulled them and checked himself out in the mirror. The pouch thrust his dick out, the sides were cut super high on his hips. They were totally unlike the boxer briefs he usually wore. He didn’t admit to himself why he bought them nor why he put them on now – but deep inside he was hopeful. He then pulled on his grey UVA sweats and a t-shirt, his mind curiously blank. He didn’t think about what he would say. He just moved.
The walk to the athletic complex was cold, the autumn air biting through his thin clothes. His sneakers echoed in empty corridors. He pushed through the heavy door to the pool deck, and the warm, humid air, thick with the smell of chlorine, wrapped around him. The vast room echoed with the hollow sound of dripping water. The pool lights cast an eerie, beautiful blue glow on everything. It was practically empty.
But Rob was there. He was sitting on the edge of the deep end, his legs dangling in the water. He wore only a faded Speedo. Charlie didn’t even know he owned one. Not the flamboyant Halloween costume, but the real thing. A swimmer’s garment. It clung to him with a professional intimacy, outlining the powerful muscles of his thighs, the curve of his ass, the substantial bulge at his front. He was staring into the water, his back a landscape of defined muscle and light brown hair.
Charlie stood still, just inside the door, his blood pounding in his ears. The sound of the door clanking shut made Rob turn.
For a long moment, they just looked at each other across twenty feet of wet tile. The air between them felt charged, thick enough to taste. Rob’s face was unreadable. There was no anger there, no easy smile either. Just a deep, weary seriousness Charlie had never seen before.
“Hey,” Rob said. His voice was low, swallowed by the vast room.
“Hey,” Charlie managed. He walked forward slowly, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He stopped a few feet away, unsure where to stand, where to put his hands.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Rob said. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a fact.
“Yeah.”
“Because of the shower.”
Charlie flinched. “Yeah.”
Rob nodded, looking back at the water. “And because of Halloween. When you… took me home.”
The memory of his own hand, moving under the covers, flashed hot in Charlie’s mind. “Rob, I—”
“Stop.” Rob held up a hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Just… stop talking for a second. Let me.” He swung his legs out of the water and stood, facing Charlie fully. Charlie couldn't help himself, he looked down. Rob's cock was obvious along his hip – did he have a hard on? He felt his own cock start to lengthen. After a couple lingering second, he forced his eyes up to n Rob’s face. “I’ve been avoiding you too,” Rob said quietly. “But not for the reasons you think.”
Charlie waited, every muscle taut.
“I ran from the shower because I got hard,” Rob said, the words dropping into the humid air like stones. “I got hard because you were standing there in that fucking Speedo, and you looked… and I wanted… and it terrified the shit out of me.”
Charlie’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected this bluntness. He’d expected anger, rejection, disgust. Not this quiet, terrifying confession.
“And on Halloween,” Rob continued, his voice gaining a raw edge, “I wore that stupid suit because I wanted you to look. I wanted you to see. When you were dancing with Chloe, I was so fucking jealous I could taste it. I got wasted to try and make it go away. And when you put me to bed…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I wasn’t as out as I pretended. I felt you. Your hand. And I… I liked it. I pushed up into it. And then you ran. And I’ve been lying in my bed for two days trying to figure out how to tell you that.”
The world narrowed to the space between them. The dripping water, the hum of the filtration system, it all faded into a dull roar. Charlie felt lightheaded. “You… liked it?”
“Yes,” Rob whispered, the word stark and simple.
“I touched you,” Charlie said, the shame rising again. “While you were asleep. That’s… that’s fucked up, Rob. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” Rob said, taking a small step closer. The smell of chlorine and clean sweat filled Charlie’s senses. “I’m not sorry at all. I’ve been… thinking about it. About you. A lot. More than a lot.” He looked down, then back up, his eyes holding Charlie’s with a ferocious intensity. “Have you? Thought about me?”
The last thread of Charlie’s resistance snapped. “All the time,” he breathed. “Since that first day in the weight room. Your back. Your arms. The way you laugh. The shower. Christ, the shower, Rob. I can’t stop seeing it.”
A tremor went through Rob’s body. He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches away. Charlie could see the droplets of water clinging to the light hair on his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his ribs. “I’ve never… with a guy,” Rob murmured, his gaze dropping to Charlie’s mouth. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Me neither,” Charlie admitted. His own voice was rough, unfamiliar.
“You can say no,” Rob said, his eyes searching Charlie’s. “You can tell me to fuck off and we can pretend this never happened. We can go back.”
“I don’t want to go back,” Charlie said, and it was the truest thing he’d ever spoken.
Rob’s hand came up, hesitant, and cupped Charlie’s jaw. His palm was warm and damp from the pool. The touch sent a jolt through Charlie’s entire system. He leaned into it, his eyes fluttering closed for a second.
When he opened them, Rob was closer. Their faces were inches apart. Charlie could see the gold flecks in his green eyes, the faint stubble on his cheek. He could feel Rob’s warm breath on his lips.
“Can I…” Rob didn’t finish the question. He just leaned in, slowly, giving Charlie every chance to pull away.
Charlie didn’t. He met him halfway.
The first touch of their lips was tentative, a soft, closed-mouth press. It was chaste, almost shy. A question. They pulled back a fraction, sharing the same air, their foreheads touching. Charlie’s hands came up to rest on Rob’s hips, feeling the solid bone beneath the thin, slick material of the Speedo. Rob’s other hand slid around to the back of Charlie’s neck.
Then Rob kissed him again, and this time it wasn’t shy. It was deep and searching, lips parting, breath mingling. Charlie made a soft, desperate sound into Rob’s mouth and kissed him back, his fingers sliding down Rob's back - feeling the defined muscles. He felt Rob moan.
Rob was fully hard - he was captivated by the taste of Charlie the feel of his stubble. So different from kissing a girl - he brought his hand up to Charlie's cheek to caress it. Charlie's tongue invaded Rob's mouth, and his whole bodied yielded to Charlie's -- the intimacy of his tongue, the strength of his hands, the overwhelming rightness of their bodies aligning.
They broke apart, gasping. Rob’s eyes were wide, dark with wonder. “Fuck,” he whispered, his thumb stroking Charlie’s cheekbone.
“Yeah,” Charlie breathed. He was trembling. He leaned in again, hungrier this time, capturing Rob’s bottom lip between his own, sucking gently. Rob groaned, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through Charlie’s chest, and his tongue swept into Charlie’s mouth. The kiss turned deeper, hotter, a messy, passionate tangle of lips and tongue and teeth.
Charlie’s hands slid down from Rob’s hips to cup his ass; it was somehow both firm and; yielding. He seemed to instinctively know what to do - running a finger down the lycra clad crack and pressing against Rob's hole. Rob moaned and pushed his body flush against Charlie. Charlie could feel Rob’s erection, thick and hard, pressing against the faded red Lycra and into his own dick which was leaking pre cum into his sweatpants. The sensation was electric, a direct line of pure need. He ground against him, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, and Rob answered with a thrust of his own, a sharp, ragged gasp escaping his throat.
“God, Charlie,” Rob panted against his mouth, his hands fisting in the back of Charlie’s t-shirt. “We can’t… not here.”
Charlie nodded, his forehead resting against Rob’s. “Your room.”
Rob nodded. “Yeah.”
They separated, the cool air of the pool deck shocking against their heated skin. They didn’t speak as they gathered their things. Rob pulled on a pair of loose mesh shorts and a hoodie over his Speedo. They left the pool and ran/walked across Grounds, not touching or talking. Their minds were racing, but their dicks were in charge. The space between them crackled with unspent energy. Every glance was a spark. Every accidental brush of arms was a lightning strike.
Rob’s dorm room was as Charlie remembered from that fraught night: neatly kept, soccer gear in one corner, textbooks stacked on the desk. The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the floor. The door clicked shut behind them, and the lock engaged with a final, definitive snick.
The sound seemed to release something in both of them. They stood in the middle of the room, just looking at each other. The brave tension from the pool deck had dissolved, replaced by a vulnerable, breathless anticipation.
“So,” Rob said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Now what?”
Charlie took a step forward. Then another. He reached out, his hand visibly shaking, and touched the front of Rob’s hoodie, over his heart. He could feel the frantic beat beneath the fabric. “Can I… see you?” he asked, his voice husky.
Rob swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t speak, just gave a sharp, quick nod.
Charlie’s fingers found the zipper of the hoodie. He pulled it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. He pushed the soft material off Rob’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Rob pulled down his shorts. So, there was the faded red Speedo, stark against Rob’s tanned skin. His chest was broad and lightly furred with brown hair, his stomach flat and defined. Charlie’s gaze traveled down, lingering on the prominent bulge straining the front of the suit. He’d felt it, seen its outline, but now, in the intimate daylight of the room, it was breathtakingly real.
His own cock pulsed into his 2xist underwear.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Charlie whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him.
Rob let out a shaky breath. “Your turn.”
Charlie pulled his own t-shirt over his head, dropping it on top of Rob’s hoodie. He stood before Rob, feeling exposed, his lightly-haired chest bare. Rob’s eyes roamed over him, hot and appreciative. “Jesus,” Rob murmured. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the line of Charlie’s collarbone, down over his pectoral muscle, circling a nipple. Charlie shivered, the touch sending sparks straight to his groin.
Rob leaned in and kissed him again, a deep, slow kiss that spoke of time now, of no more rushing. His hands skimmed down Charlie’s back, over the waistband of his sweatpants, and cupped his ass, pulling him close. Charlie could feel every hard inch of him through the layers of fabric. He rocked into the contact, a slow, grinding rhythm, his hands roaming over Rob’s back, learning the contours of muscle and spine.
“I want to feel you,” Rob whispered against his lips. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Charlie’s sweats, pushing them down over his hips. Charlie kicked them off, along with his shoes and socks, standing before Rob in the nearly obscene underwear.
Rob stepped back and consumed Charlie – from his face, down his chest, over his abs that formed a 6 pack to his underwear -- the front pouch was nearly translucent with pre cum and distended with Charlie’s hard dick. Rob whispered, “Turn around.” When Charlie did, Rob saw the underwear barely covering his friend’s ass. Years of soccer had created a masterpiece. “Holy fuck,” he mumbles.
He reached up and turned Charlie back around and kissed him again, this time more aggressively invading his mouth with his tongue. It was like he was in lacrosse mode – pure aggression. Charlie melted into it.
“Fuck,” Rob breathed. He reached between them and ran one hand over the front of the wet underwear. With the other, he traced the edge of the 2Xist brief bottom seam until he reached the crack and gently traced a ring around Charlie’s asshole. Unlike Rob at the pool, Charlie leapt with surprise.
The two men finally laughed at something. “One step at a time,” Rob said.
He wrapped a large, warm hand around Charlie’s cock, giving him one slow, perfect stroke from root to tip. This was the closest Rob had ever been to a hard dick - except his own - the first time he had touched someone else's cock. And it was going to be the first he ever sucked.
Charlie’s head fell back, a choked groan escaping him. “Rob…”
The sight of the handsome soccer stud on his knees before him was almost enough to undo Charlie. Rob, on his knees in front of him, looking up with a mixture of awe and desire. Rob nuzzled into the thatch of dark hair at the base of Charlie’s cock, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good,” he muttered, his voice rough. He kissed the inside of Charlie’s thigh, his lips soft and warm. He kissed the other thigh. He licked a hot, wet stripe up the underside of Charlie’s shaft, making him jump.
Then Rob looked up, his gaze locking with Charlie’s. “I’ve never done this,” he said, the admission stark and honest.
“It’s okay,” Charlie panted, his hands coming to rest on Rob’s shoulders. “We don’t have to…”
“I want to,” Rob interrupted, his voice firm. He opened his mouth and took the head of Charlie’s cock inside, his tongue swirling around the sensitive glans.
The heat, the wetness, the sheer impossible reality of it sent a violent shock of pleasure through Charlie. “Oh, god,” he gasped, his fingers tightening on Rob’s shoulders.
Rob sucked gently, his lips forming a tight seal. He took more of Charlie into his mouth, slowly, inch by incredible inch. His tongue pressed along the underside, exploring. It was clumsy, a little too toothy, achingly amateur. He reached up with both hands to cup Charlie's pecs. It was the most erotic thing Charlie had ever felt. He watched, mesmerized, as his cock disappeared into Rob’s mouth, saw Rob’s cheeks hollow with suction. The visual was breathtaking. He could see Rob's dick fully hard and pressing against the fabric of the Speedo. There was a wet spot.
Rob started to figure out a rhythm, what to do with his teeth. He dropped one of his hands down to cradle Charlie’s balls, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind them. The other wrapped around the base of Charlie’s shaft, working in tandem with his mouth. The sensations were overwhelming, a tight, hot, silken friction that built a coil of tension low in Charlie’s gut. He tangled his hands in Rob’s light brown hair, not guiding, just holding on.
“Rob… I’m gonna…” he warned, his hips starting to stutter.
Rob didn’t pull away. He took him deeper, humming around his length, the vibration pushing Charlie over the edge. Pleasure detonated through him, white-hot and shattering. He cried out, his body bowing as he came, pulsing into the heat of Rob’s mouth. Rob swallowed the first shot but then Charlie's orgasm pulled him out and he began spraying cum across his handsome friend's face and into his hair. It was an image Charlie would jack off to for years afterward.
Rob pulled him back into his mouth, licking the head for every last drop until Charlie was spent, trembling and oversensitive.
Rob released him slowly, his lips making a soft, wet sound. He looked dazed, his lips slick and swollen, a drop of cum caught at the corner of his mouth. He grabbed Charlie's underwear and wiped the cum off his face and his hair, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s face, wide with a kind of stunned wonder.
Charlie, his legs weak, slid down the wall to kneel on the floor with him. The old carpet scratched his knees. He cupped Rob’s face, his thumb wiping away the remaining wetness from his chin. “That was…” Words failed him. He leaned in and kissed Rob, deep and slow, tasting himself—salty and stark—on Rob’s tongue. The intimacy of it, the raw sharing, made his spent body hum with a new current.
“Your turn,” Charlie murmured against his lips, his voice gravelly with spent passion.
Rob exhaled, a shaky, wanting sound. He was still painfully hard. Charlie’s fingers went to the straps of the Speedo at Rob’s hips. He hooked his thumbs under the material, feeling the heat of Rob’s skin underneath. He looked up, a question in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Rob breathed, his hips lifting slightly off the floor. “Please.”
Charlie peeled the suit down. It caught for a moment on the thicket of hair at Rob’s groin, then slid free. Rob’s cock sprang up, fully erect, slapping against his stomach. He was bigger than Charlie. It was everything the Halloween suit and the shower steam had promised: thick, uncut, and beautifully veined, curving slightly upward from a dense thatch of light brown hair. The sight was profoundly masculine, overwhelmingly real. “Jesus, Rob,” Charlie whispered, reverence stripping his voice bare.
This was the closest Charlie had ever been to a hard dick - except his own - the first time he had touched someone else's cock. And it was going to be the first he ever sucked.
He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, pressing his face into the warmth of Rob’s lower belly, inhaling the musky, clean scent of him. He mouthed along the shaft, kissing the sensitive skin of the underside, tracing a vein with his tongue. Rob shuddered, his hands flying to Charlie’s hair, not pushing, just holding on.
“Fuck, Charlie,” Rob groaned, his head thumping back against the wall. He looked down and saw the lax stud on his knees with his lips around his cock. It was every fantasy he had ever denied himself. Everyone should see this, he thought; no one should see this.
Charlie took him into his mouth. He used his hand to steady the base, his lips stretching to accommodate Rob’s girth. The taste was clean skin and pre-cum, slightly bitter. He worked slowly, learning him, feeling Rob’s thighs tense under his palms. He sucked, he licked the frenulum, he took him deep until his throat relaxed. Rob’s breathing fractured into sharp, helpless gasps.
“Oh god… right there… just like that,” Rob chanted, his fingers tightening in Charlie’s hair.
Charlie lost himself in the rhythm, in the weight and heat on his tongue, in the sounds he was pulling from Rob. This was power and submission all at once. He reached one hand up to twist Rob's nipple and used the other on his friend's dick, twisting on the upstroke, his thumb smearing the wetness leaking from the tip.
Rob’s control shattered. “I’m gonna… Charlie, I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained and tight.
Charlie just took him deeper, urging him on. Rob’s hips jerked off the floor. A guttural cry tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered, as he came. Charlie felt the first hot pulse hit the back of his throat, the salty-bitter taste flooding his senses. He swallowed, taking every shuddering spasm, until Rob was limp and spent, his body slumping back against the wall.
The room was silent except for their ragged breathing. Charlie rested his forehead against Rob’s thigh, spent. Rob’s hand, gentle now, stroked through his hair. Charlie reached out to Rob's dick and used his finger to scoop up some remaining cum.
After a long moment, Charlie crawled up Rob’s body, collapsing beside him against the wall. He rubbed his cum laden finger against Rob's lips until Rob opened his mouth and tasted his own spew. Their shoulders pressed together, sweat-slick and warm. The afternoon sun had shifted, painting a single bright rectangle on the far wall.
“So,” Rob said, his voice rough but soft. “That happened.”
A laugh bubbled out of Charlie, part relief, part sheer disbelief. “Yeah. It did. Probably not going to be in the athletic department year end video.”
Rob laughed but eventually turned silent. His expression was open, vulnerable, the witty mask completely gone. “What does it mean?” he asked quietly.
Charlie looked at their clothes piled on the floor, at their naked bodies side-by-side. The world outside this room hadn’t changed. But everything had. “It means I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you do box jumps,” he said. “It means I don’t think I can pretend I don’t anymore.”
Rob nodded slowly. He reached over and took Charlie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. His grip was strong, sure. “Good,” he said. “Me neither.”
There will be at least two more chapters as the guys go to the next level.
