The Non-Disclosure Agreement had been unexpected. As Henry Starkey stretched his sore body across his king-size bed, his mind drifted back to the moment he had inked his signature at the bottom of the page. Nothing out of the ordinary, just clauses specifying that anything that happened at Number 233, Oakfield Road, was to remain confidential.
He’d chosen to live with some of the most sought-after athletes at Colman College for a fairly cheap rent and the perk of being within walking distance from campus.
It gave him a sense of freedom, a way to truly unwind once he was done with classes and football training.
The faculty’s old red-brick walls and its perfectly trimmed lawns and hedges were quaint, but sharing a cramped room with a stranger who might not know the first thing about hygiene or personal space didn’t appeal to him.
Now, he had a spacious room he could decorate however he wanted. Once he found the motivation to empty the boxes he’d brought along.
The corners of his lips dipped as an uncomfortable thought crossed his mind.
The weight of signing the NDA had been gnawing at him for the past three days. Each time silence settled, discomfort built in the pit of his stomach.
He kept waking up in the middle of the night, straining his ear when he heard whispers and careful footfalls. At some point, he even imagined ghosts lounging about.
A nineteen-year-old shouldn’t believe in such things, but there he was, making up scenarios he’d never dare to share with anyone. He also felt too much like an intruder in this brand-new place to peek from his door to see what his roommates were up to after midnight.
In the morning, breakfast was a good excuse to remain silent and to answer with short hums and nods. It made it easy not to ask any questions.
Henry massaged the back of his neck, shunning any crazy theories with furrowed brows.
Practice had been particularly rough, and a warm shower had done little to soothe his bruises and the pain shooting through his entire body.
He was well-built, sure. But being thrown to the ground and tackled by a bunch of brutes was hard on anyone.
His nylon shorts hugged his beefy thighs, and an electric fan blew softly on his warm, naked chest. Still sensitive after he’d plucked it smooth. The discomfort was worth it; he preferred a clean look.
Henry slid his hand down his chest and abs, feeling his hard belly and fantasizing about muscular asses and suggestive bulges.
Never-ending drills and days spent at the gym had carved Henry into the perfect quarterback. One that could knock out a brawler with a single punch.
Inside, though, Henry only wished to love a guy rather than hurt him.
His tight waistband gave little resistance as he let his hand wander down his hardening cock. He stroked his length slowly, basking in the fresh scent of his sheets, lavender, and the feeling of clean skin and eucalyptus bodywash. Lost in his own world, Henry smeared the precum leaking out of his slit over his circumcised head.
Suddenly, his door flung open with a bang, followed by a hoarse chuckle.
“Fuck, dude, get a room,” Kyle, whose dark skin still glistened with perspiration, said.
Henry snatched his hand away and sat up on his mattress, drawing his knees to his chest to hide his shame. Heat rose up his chest and tinted his cheeks as he cursed himself for not locking the door.
Was there even a key? His mouth was pinched in a thin line, and his tousled, dirty blond hair fell over his eyes.
“S- Sorry, I didn’t…”
“No harm done,” Kyle laughed, white teeth flashing invitingly at Henry. “Looks like you’re packing! Good for you, man!”
“You could’ve knocked,” Henry mumbled, resting his chin on one of his knees as his face turned beetroot red.
“I could’ve,” Kyle stood in the doorframe and wiped his forehead before taking a few steps forward. “But there’s no key for that door, there’s no keys but the ones for the front door.”
Casually, Kyle grabbed one of Henry’s hard-earned trophies and read the plaque with a crooked smile.
The bedframe creaked as Henry shifted his weight, trying to keep his cool as Kyle looked back at him with malice. He wasn’t threatening, though he could be.
Cockiness was in his genes, and he flaunted it with such carelessness that it became endearing. There was no cruelty in the way he teased people, and most of the time his jokes hit the mark. Girls giggled, guys clapped him on the back.
He was the king of the lacrosse team, and the ground on which he walked was golden.
He wasn’t as tall as Henry, nor was he as muscular, but he demanded reverence. If Henry had been bolder, he’d have cornered him and kissed him already.
Instead, he stared at his toes.
It brought Henry back to the moment he laid his name on the contract, right after signing his lease. He’d read the agreement quickly, not even caring about “the private parties” he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about. The part where true brotherhood was mentioned had seemed funny, but not in a dangerous way. He figured it was all fraternity bullshit.
The air in the room was dry, or maybe it was his mouth. So, Henry licked his lips and focused on his crumpled sheets.
His feet ached, and he busied himself by digging his thumbs into them.
Relief.
“Got hurt at practice?” Kyle asked, walking slowly toward the bed before sitting on it.
“Neck pain, feet hurting, sore muscles, nothing new,” Henry replied dismissively, trying not to get hard again.
The smell of sweat and raw masculinity had always had a weird effect on him. Stale locker rooms were an aphrodisiac, and sharing showers with his teammates was fantasy material he could use behind closed doors. His shoulders hunched forward, and Henry feigned disinterest as he stared up.
“Why’re you here?” he asked, his gaze wandering over Kyle’s sculpted cheekbones before moving on to his dark eyes.
“There’s a party tonight, and we already set everything up.” Kyle played with the bed covers, edging toward Henry’s swollen feet. “Let me.”
“Let you what?”
“Take care of you a little. You’re not doing it right.”
Henry blinked and waited. After a moment, he allowed Kyle to touch him by sliding his feet in his direction.
“So, about that party,” Kyle purred, taking Henry’s right foot with both hands. Expertly, he targeted pressure points under his sole.
“I’m whooped, man,” Henry fell back on his bed, confident his bulge wasn’t as prominent even though the feeling of Kyle massaging him might trigger another erection.
“It’s not like you have a choice,” Kyle told Henry with a content smile. “You agreed, remember?”
“So you’re really serious about the mandatory party shit?”
“I am,” Kyle laughed good-naturedly, squeezing gently, “The house’s mine, so my rules are absolute.”
“Sounds like we are in the military,” Henry sighed. “I’m just gonna close my eyes a little, if that’s all right with you, Colonel.”
“You wouldn’t have as much fun in military barracks, trust me,” Kyle laughed again and stroked Henry’s leg. “You won’t be disappointed. Even if some things might get… frustrating.”
Kyle straightened, his white compression shirt sticking to his ripped body. Henry imagined him jogging on the street, shorts showing his long, muscular legs, his biceps bulging, and his pecs bobbing up and down as he ran and ran.
Total eye candy.
“Quit looking at me like that. You’re too gorgeous for your own good,” Kyle warned, leaning forward.
Instantly, Henry popped up a boner. His own dick was betraying him while Kyle was inches away. He was ripe in all the right ways, and Henry barely contained the urge he had to lunge forward and pin him down.
“Stop fucking with me,” Henry growled, his heart pounding loudly against his ribcage.
“I’m not fucking with you,” Kyle whispered. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“K-Kyle, I…”
“Don’t touch yourself while I’m gone. I want you to be on your best behavior. Is that understood?”
“You’re my boss now?”
“No… maybe,” Kyle scrubbed his stubbled jaw. “It depends on whether you draw the short straw or not in a few days.”
“What the… The short straw?”
“Don’t sweat it. Take a good nap and be down in the living room in an hour. Don’t bother dressing up.”
The door closed before Henry had the time to ask anything else. His mouth hung open for a minute or two, and his cock refused to go down.
For the next few minutes, he turned over in his bed. Unable to fall asleep, unable to stop thinking.
Fuck.
Kyle had left him hanging like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.
Just a freakin’ chew toy.
Restless sleep eventually found him. When he woke up, his room was darker than before. Music was blaring below, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke and the clinking of beer bottles told him it was time to go.
Though he wasn’t sure he was ready to stand in front of his roommates with a full-on erection.
He’d been good up to this point; his balls were still full. He could only hope he’d be rewarded for obeying Kyle’s command.
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