Charlie Fucks Rob
The three weeks that followed the first time were strange and strained for both guys. It had clearly happened but neither could really believe it.; Nor could they stop thinking about it - about the feel of a cock pounding a best friend's ass.;
Charlie existed in two separate realities. On the lacrosse field and on the dorm hall, he was still Charlie Andersen, first year starter, the easy-going guy from the suburbs of Richmond who could thread a pass through a needle and crack a joke in the huddle. He went through drills on autopilot, his body moving through familiar patterns while his mind replayed the sensation of Rob's cock sliding into him, the weight of Rob's chest against his back, the sound of Rob's voice telling him how good he felt.
And, he'd started noticing things he never noticed before.
During water breaks, while his teammates stripped off their shirts and gulped from their bottles, Charlie's eyes would drift. There was Jake Morrison, a second-year midfielder with shoulders like a swimmer and a chest that was almost entirely smooth except for a thin line of dark hair trailing down his sternum. Charlie watched him bend over to retie his cleats, watched the way his practice shorts pulled tight across his ass. Charlie imagined running his tongue along that trail of hair, imagined the taste of Jake's sweat on his lips. The thought made his cock twitch and he had to look away, a flush creeping up his neck.
And there was Marcus Webb, the fourth-year captain, a stud with think hairy thighs and a stomach with an equally hair 6 pack. He was at least 6 foot 4 and ooze masculinity and was packing. Charlie caught himself staring at the bulge of Marcus's dick through his shorts during stretching drills. Charlie wondered if Marcus was hung, if his cock would feel like Rob's, thick and hot, filling him. One time, he saw Marcus looking back at him - as if he knew Charlie was checking him out and was okay with it. Their eyes locked briefly before Marcus looked away.
He got mad at himself for these thoughts, for the way his eyes lingered on his teammates' bodies. They were his friends. They trusted him. And here he was, cataloging the shape of their asses and the size of their dicks like some kind of predator. But he couldn't stop. Once the door had opened, it couldn't be closed. Every man was suddenly a possibility, a question. But the center of his new being was Rob.
He also couldn't stop thinking about the sex. They'd had sex. Rob had fucked him. And he'd loved it. He'd never been so vulnerable, so exposed, so completely at anyone's mercy, and he'd loved every second. He wanted more. He wanted to feel Rob inside him again, wanted to taste Rob's cum on his tongue, wanted to wake up in Rob's bed with the smell of him all over his skin.
Classes were a blur. He attended lectures, took notes, answered questions when called upon. He went to parties; participated in underground rush. Fraternities wanted him. He smiled at the girls who flirted with him—there were several, the perks of being voted cutest in high school following him to college—but he didn't act on it. He couldn't. Every time he looked at a girl, he saw Rob. Every time a girl flirted with him, he felt nothing.
And when Rob texted him, which he did often, his whole body responded. A thrill, a pulse of heat.
Rob, meanwhile, was struggling in his own way.
Soccer practice was the worst. He was surrounded by some of the finest male bodies on Grounds, and he couldn't stop looking. His teammate Tyler Park, a junior forward with a jawline that could cut glass, piercing blue eyes and a body that was sculpted muscle like an Instagram model, was his particular obsession. Tyler had a habit of lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing a perfectly defined six-pack and a light dusting of hair that trailed into his waistband. Rob wanted to put his mouth on that trail. He wanted to follow it down, right into the waistband of Tyler's shorts. Tyler also had a habit of putting his arms around Tyler's shoulder when talking to him; sometimes he'd give Rob a pat on the ass to congratulate him on a good play. Once, in the shower, Rob thought he saw Tyler looking at his dick.
He was also drawn to Danny Voss, the goalkeeper, a big, bearish guy with a thick chest and a hairy stomach. Danny always wore tight compression shirts under his kit, and during practice he'd peel them off, standing in the goal in just his shorts, his massive arms folded across his chest. Rob's eyes would trace the dark hair on Danny's forearms, the bulging biceps, the way his big hands wrapped around the crossbar. He imagined those hands on his hips, imagined Danny pushing him against a wall and kissing him hard.
He wasn't sure what had been awakened in him. He'd always considered himself a good guy, someone who respected others. And now he couldn't even look at his friends without his mind wandering into filthy territory. He'd catch himself staring and force his eyes away, his face hot with shame. He'd jerk off in the shower afterward, trying to purge the images from his mind, but it never worked. The images stayed. And usually, they morphed into images of Charlie. Charlie's ass, Charlie's mouth, Charlie's hands on his chest. Charlie's body arching under him as he pushed inside. God the image of Charlie arching off the bed.
The sex with Charlie was the only thing that made sense.
Two days after the first time, Charlie showed up at Rob's dorm without texting, just a knock. Rob opened the door and there he was, dark-haired and beautiful, his lacrosse bag still on his shoulder.
"Hey," Rob said, his heart doing something complicated in his chest.
"Hey," Charlie replied. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."
That was all it took. Rob pulled him inside and shut the door, and they were on each other. Clothes came off in a desperate flurry, and Rob dropped to his knees, swallowing Charlie's cock in one smooth, practiced motion. He'd gotten better at this since the first time. He knew now to relax his throat, to breathe through his nose. He knew to cup Charlie's balls and roll them gently. He knew to look up at Charlie with his mouth full, his eyes watering, because Charlie lost his mind when he did that.
"God, Rob," Charlie gasped, his hands fisting in Rob's hair. "Your mouth. Fuck."
Rob hummed, a low, satisfied vibration, and Charlie's hips bucked. He worked his tongue along the underside of Charlie's shaft, licking the thick vein, tracing the ridge of the head. He sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing, and Charlie began to thrust into his mouth, short, desperate strokes.
"I'm gonna cum," Charlie warned.
Rob pulled off just long enough to say, "Do it. Cum down my throat."
Charlie's eyes went wide, and then he was coming, his release flooding Rob's mouth. Rob swallowed, drinking him down, his own cock aching at the taste. When Charlie was spent, Rob pulled off, licking his lips, and Charlie pulled him up into a kiss, tasting himself on Rob's tongue.
"You're incredible," Charlie whispered.
"Back at you."
That set the pattern. Over the next week, they found stolen moments. A hand job in the library bathroom after a late-night study session. A blowjob in Rob's car, parked in an empty lot behind the athletic complex. Rob felt kind of bad about that because he pulled out and covered Charlie's face and hair with cum - but he also thought it was fucking hot to paint him. They were horny, desperate, always aware of the risk of discovery, and that danger made everything hotter.
The first time Rob fucked Charlie again after their first time was the day after a grueling lacrosse practice. Charlie texted him, drenched in sweat and buzzing with adrenaline: "Need you. Now."
Rob picked him up outside the locker room and drove them to his dorm, his hand resting on Charlie's thigh the whole way. The moment they were inside, Charlie stripped off his shorts. His swollen, pulsating cock was leaking.
"I want you to fuck me again," Charlie said, his voice rough. "I haven't stopped thinking about it. About how full you made me feel."
Rob's cock twitched violently in his shorts. He reached for the lube and pulled Charlie onto the bed, tearing at his own clothes. He pressed Charlie onto his stomach and kneeled behind him, squeezing lube onto his fingers. Char asshole was already wet with sweat from practice so Rob was able to work him open quickly, efficiently, two fingers then three, curling against that spot until Charlie was moaning a litany of "please, please, please" into the mattress.
"Beg me," Rob said, a dark thrill running through him.
"Please, Rob. Please fuck me."
Rob had never seen Charlie come undone like this. He lined himself up and pushed inside, and they both cried out - as quietly as they could given, they were in a dorm. Charlie was looser than before but Rob still started slow, letting Charlie adjust, running his hands over the flexing muscles of Charlie's back.
"Do it," Charlie said. "Pound me."
Rob began to move, slow and deep, and then faster, harder. Rob was surprised as Charlie started pushing back to meet his thrusts - "he's fucking himself on my dick" he thought to himself. Their bodies slapped together, wet and messy. Rob was lost, drowning in the feel of Charlie's ass at his own pleasure, the way it gripped and released him.
"I'm close," Charlie gasped.
"Cum with me," Rob grunted. "Hold on."
He reached around and grabbed Charlie's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Two, three, four more pumps and Charlie was coming, his whole body shuddering, muscles clenching. Rob followed a moment later, spilling deep inside him with a guttural groan.
They collapsed together, sweaty and spent, Charlie's release painting the sheets beneath them. Rob pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak out of Charlie's hole. They kissed deeply after that. Charlie snuck back to his own dorm.
The second time was after a Saturday night party.
It was a house party off Grounds, a sprawling rental where the beer flowed freely and the music thumped so loud the windows rattled. Charlie and Rob arrived together, pretending to be just friends, just teammates from different sports who'd bonded over a shared love of getting wrecked on weekends.
The party was packed. Girls in crop tops and short skirts danced on the makeshift dance floor. Guys in polo shirts and khakis circled them, drinks in hand. Charlie grabbed a beer from the cooler and leaned against a wall, Rob beside him.
"That girl's been staring at you," Rob said.
Charlie followed his gaze. A blonde in a tight black dress was definitely staring; her lips curved in a suggestive smile. "Not interested."
"She's hot."
"I don't care."
Rob smiled, a slow, knowing grin. "Me neither."
Charlie then said to Rob, "That guy's been staring at you."
Rob followed his gaze. Tyler, his teammate, was drinking something out of a Solo up and looking directly at Rob. He gave him a bro's bro nod of the head.
"Nah. That's just my teammate Tyler."
"He's looking at you like he want to fuck you."
"Don't be ridiculous."
They stayed at the party for two hours, playing their parts. Charlie let a girl grind against him on the dance floor, his hands on her hips, but he felt nothing. His eyes kept flicking to Rob across the room, who was laughing with Tyler, his hand on Tyler's shoulder, his head tipped back. Charlie watched Rob's throat move as he laughed, watched the way his shirt stretched across his chest. He watched Tyler look at the same thing. It only made him hornier.
"Hey," he said, interrupting Rob's conversation. "I'm not feeling great. Walk me back?"
Rob's eyes searched his. "Yeah, sure. Tyler, catch you later."
Tyler raised an eyebrow and said, "Sure. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
They left, stepping out into the cool November night. The noise of the party faded behind them as they walked toward Rob's dorm. The campus was beautiful at night, the Rotunda lit up like a beacon, the trees casting long shadows across the Lawn.
They made it to Rob's room in silence, but the moment the door clicked shut, they were on each other. Charlie pushed Rob against the wall, kissing him hard, his tongue forcing its way into Rob's mouth. Rob grabbed Charlie's ass, pulling him closer, grinding their hips together.
"I've been watching you all night," Charlie said, his voice ragged. "With that guy. Tyler. You kept touching him."
"Jealous?" Rob asked, a note of amusement in his voice.
"Yes." Charlie's grip tightened on Rob's shoulders. "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me so I know you're mine."
Rob replied, "Fuck yeah."
He stripped Charlie with a practiced efficiency and pushed him onto the bed. Charlie pulled him down on top of him and they kissed deeply with their hands running all over the other's body. Charlie, said, "I want to do something different."
He flipped Rob onto his back and straddled his waist. He grabbed the lube and fingered himself with and then reached down to hold Rob's dick steady. The, he slowly lowered himself on the soccer stud's dick.
He began to ride Rob steadily. The two guys instinctively were massaging each other pecs until Rob pulled Charlie down to kiss him. He ran his hands through Charlie's hair and stuck his tongue in the lax player's mouth. And then started driving into him from below. He pulled back and whispered things: "So beautiful," and "God, I could do this every night."
When they came, they came together, Rob again seeding Charlie's ass; this time Charlie spraying Rob's chest, lips and cheek with his cum.
Another week passed. They fell into a rhythm that was almost domestic: practice, classes, meals, stolen moments in Rob's dorm. They'd made tentative plans to text over the Thanksgiving break, plotting ways to see each other, even if they lived in different states.
And then it was the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. Charlie's room was half packed. His lacrosse gear was strewn across the floor; his duffel bag spilling out dirty clothes to be washed by mom. He was supposed to head home tomorrow morning, back to Richmond where his parents would ask about his grades and his social life and why he wasn't seeing that nice girl from high school anymore. He'd do the big Wednesday party with his high school friends.
He'd been thinking about some of his teammate from back then.
Rob had been quieter the last few days. Something was on his mind, but he wasn't sharing. Charlie felt a prickle of unease. What if Rob was having doubts ahead of his own trip home?
He texted Rob: "Saw you drift off in the library today. Everything okay?"
Rob's reply came after a long pause. "Can I come over?"
Charlie's heart lurched. "Yeah. Door's unlocked."
Ten minutes later, Rob appeared in his doorway. His light brown hair was messy as if he'd been running his hands through it over and over (he had) - instead of his usual preppy look. He had a bit of two-day beard which was also unlike him. He'd never looked sexier. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, studying Charlie.
"Hey," Charlie said.
"Hey."
"Everything okay?"
"No." Rob crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands dangling between his knees. "I've been thinking a lot about us."
Charlie's stomach dropped.
"About what we're doing." Rob looked up, his eyes meeting Charlie's. "About what I want."
Charlie sat beside him, his heart pounding. "And what do you want?"
Rob was silent for a long moment. Then he shifted, turning to face Charlie. He reached out and cupped Charlie's jaw, pulling him into a kiss. It was slow, searching. It felt like a question.
Rob deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into Charlie's mouth - fuck, they'd gotten good at kissing each other. Rob usually more the aggressor. His hand drifted down Charlie's neck, over his shoulder. But instead of feeling up his ass, he reached down for Charlie's cock. The heat of his palm was searing. He began to palm Charlie's cock through his shorts, a slow, deliberate pressure.
"I've been thinking about you inside me," Rob said. His voice was low, rough; a confession.
Charlie froze. "What?"
"When I fuck you, I think about what it would feel like. To have you inside me. To feel you stretching me. Filling me." Rob's hand squeezed gently, and Charlie hissed in a breath. "I want that, Charlie. I want to try."
Charlie's mind went blank. Rob had been the top; the one in control, the one who took. And Charlie had loved being taken. But this—this was a reversal of everything they'd established. It was thrilling and Charlie wanted it. He wanted to be inside Rob. He wanted to feel Rob clenching around him. He'd dreamed about it, jerking off in the shower to the thought, but he'd never dared to ask.
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, his voice uneven.
"I'm sure." Rob's eyes were earnest. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you. All of you. Please, Charlie. I'm ready."
Charlie kissed him again, hard and hungry, all thought of Thanksgiving and parents and the outside world forgotten.
He pulled Rob's shirt over his head and it was a slow strip-tease. He ran his hands over the light dusting of hair on Rob's chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Rob's skin was warm and smooth, the hair soft under Charlie's sensitive palms. He bent to lick a nipple, and Rob moaned, his hands clutching Charlie's shoulders.
"You have no idea," Charlie murmured, his mouth moving down Rob's sternum. "No idea how long I've wanted this."
"Show me," Rob gasped.
Charlie slid off the bed and pulled Rob's sweatpants down his legs. Rob's cock sprang free, hard and thick, and Charlie's mouth watered. He'd felt that cock in his throat, had it thrusting into him, and now he would be the one inside Rob. It was almost too much.
He took Rob's cock in his mouth without ceremony, swallowing him down, his nostrils flaring. He tasted the familiar musk, the salt, the unmistakable taste of Rob. Unlike the other times, he wasn't just worshiping. He was readying, easing, opening. He licked and sucked, his fingers working gently at Rob's balls and then further back, until he started pressing against Rob's hole. It was hairier than Charlie's.
"Damn, Charlie," Rob groaned.
Charlie pulled off, his lips slick with spit and pre-cum. He reached for the lube—now a permanent fixture on Rob's nightstand—and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. He moved behind Rob, who had moved over and was lying on his back on the bed. Knees bent, tight stomach and chest on display, dick stiff as a board . . . and his hole exposed.
It was the hottest thing Charlie had ever seen. "Just relax," Charlie said, his voice a soothing murmur. "I'm going to take care of you."
He pressed one finger against Rob's hole, feeling the resistance. Rob tensed.
"It's okay," Charlie soothed. "Just breathe."
He pushed gentle as the tip slipped in. Rob let out a shaky breath, but he didn't pull away. He pushed into him slowly, until his finger was fully sheathed. Rob's ass was tight and hot and utterly obscene. Charlie began to move, a slow, gentle rhythm, his finger curling, searching.
"Relax for me, baby," Charlie coaxed, his free hand stroking Rob's back. "You're doing so well." He leaned down and kissed sticking his tongue in Rob's mouth at the same time he stuck a second finger in his ass. "Oh God," he whimpered. "Charlie, that's—that feels so—"
"Good?" Charlie crooked his fingers, searching for that spot he knew so well from his own experience, and Rob cried out, his hips bucking. "Found it."
"Fuck. Oh fuck. Charlie, please."
"Please what?" Charlie pushed his fingers deeper, hitting that spot again. "Please what, Rob?"
He added a third finger, opening him wide. Rob was leaking pre-cum onto his stomach, pooling in his belly button, his cock twitching. "Please fuck me," he whispered.
Charlie's heart was pounding. His own cock was throbbing, desperate. He pulled his fingers out, coating himself with lube. Rob was spread open before him, just waiting.
"Look at me," Charlie said. Charlie positioned himself at Rob's entrance and began to push slowly.
Rob let out a sound that was both gasp and sob. Charlie watched his body take control. His own eyes rolled back. He dropped his head, forehead resting on Rob's as he too felt the overwhelming sensation of being inside another man for the first time. It was even better than he'd ever imagined. The heat. The tightness. The power. He was inside Rob. His best friend.
"Are you okay?" Charlie managed.
"Yes," Rob sobbed. "Yes, don't stop. Keep going."
Charlie pushed deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against Rob's ass. Rob took the last inch with a shuddering gasp, his hands grabbing Charlie's pecs. Charlie stayed still for a moment, letting Rob adjust. He leaned forward and kissed him again.
"Holy shit, I've never felt anything like this," he whispered.
Charlie pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, a long, smooth glide. Rob whimpered. He did it again, and again, finding a rhythm, a slow, deep, rocking motion that made Rob's entire body shake. He could feel everything—each ridge of his own cock catching on Rob's inner walls, the desperate clench of Rob's muscles, the heat that was suffocating and perfect.
Charlie's pace quickened. He drove into Rob with more force, the slap of their bodies filling the room. Rob was moaning now, a litany of incoherent sounds, his face buried in the pillow. His cock was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum, stroking against the sheets.
"I want you to cum," Charlie grunted. "I want to feel you cum on my cock."
"I'm close," Rob gasped.
At this point, both men were dripping sweat. Charlie reached down and grabbed Rob's sweaty and precum covered cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Rob cried out his release, his body convulsing, his ass clenching around Charlie's cock as he came hard against the sheets. Not even two pumps later Charlie was coming, buried deep, and he heard himself cry out, shuddering and gripping Rob's hips as he emptied himself of his own desires.
He collapsed onto Rob's chest, pressing him into the mattress, both of them breathing hard, slicked with sweat. The room was silent except for their ragged breaths. Charlie's cock softened inside Rob, and he pulled out slowly feeling a pang at the separation. He rolled off, lying on his back, and they both stared at the ceiling.
"Wow," Rob managed.
"Yeah," Charlie breathed. "Wow."
Rob turned on his side, facing Charlie. His face was flushed. He reached out and traced his fingers along Charlie's jaw.
"That was incredible," Rob said. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but that was..."
"The best thing I've ever felt," Charlie finished. "Being inside you. Feeling you around me."
Rob smiled, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "We make a good team."
"I think we do."
They lay there in the quiet, the warmth of their bodies mingling, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Tomorrow, they'd leave for Thanksgiving. Charlie would go to Richmond where he will be Mr. Popular again, Rob to his home in Maryland. They'd be separated by state lines and family expectations and the weight of the secrets they carried.
But that was tomorrow.
Tonight, they were tangled in each other, and Charlie let his fingers weave through the hair on Rob's chest, still racing. He still felt a phantom sensation of his own release, and he knew he'd feel this moment for a long time.
Well, this could be a natural end of the story. I've also considered having the guys unexpectedly getting seduced by other guys (separately) over Thanksgiving break. Let me know if you think I should continue.
