Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people (appearances, names, etc.) are unintentional. This story contains homosexual acts. If such material is illegal in your region/country, you are under the age of majority, or it is not what you intended to access, please leave.
A great deal of time and effort has gone into building and maintaining Nifty.org, and is provided at no actual cost to its readership. Please donate.
Chapter 3
Despite the fact that we were nude for the rest of the day, I found myself unable to separate myself from the awkwardness I'd felt in the morning. I avoided looking at Steve, burying myself in studying, and later, gaming on my laptop.
Lunch, and then dinner were muted affairs, where each of us made half-assed jokes, but neither of us seemed able to muster more than passing banter.
We each fell asleep unsure of what exactly had happened, and in the morning I got up with the sun and decided to go for a run. Running wasn't my usual style for working out, so I was wheezing half way through it as I pushed through to the end of my time.
Instead of heading back to campus, I continued walking until I hit our mid-west city's excuse for a downtown business district. It was understandably quiet on a Sunday at eight in the morning, but I stepped into a Dunkin's and got a black coffee before stepping out into the warm morning sunshine and sitting down on a bench. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the smell of the breeze, the coffee, and the feel of the sun on my skin.
I'm not sure how long I sat there, but after a while the sound of a dog on a leash approached and I jumped as a cold nose poked into my crotch.
Startled, I spilled coffee all over my hand.
"Oh God! I'm so sorry!"
Switching hands and shaking it off, I looked over and saw a redheaded woman pulling hard on the leash of a German Shepherd cross. I coughed, trying to smother a laugh. "I'll live. He just startled me."
She brought him to heel a couple of feet from me. "I'll replace your coffee," she offered, still mortified.
I shook my head ruefully. "I only lost a couple of ounces. Don't worry about it."
Her smile hardened. "I'm not going to take no for an answer, sir."
This time I laughed openly. "If you feel that strongly about it: ok. How about 'Greg'. 'Sir' makes me feel like I'm supposed to be in uniform." I stood and offered my hand.
She took it firmly, smiling warmly. "Terry." She gestured downward. "This is Brutus."
"Hello Brutus."
The dog stepped forward and I ruffed his ears. It had been a long time since my childhood dog had died, and I hadn't realized how much I'd missed him until that moment.
"I see you get the 'Brutus stamp of approval'."
"Happy to hear it."
"So what brings you to this part of town on a Sunday?" She seemed genuinely curious. It certainly wasn't one of those cities that never stops. NOTHING went on here at this time of the week.
"Just out for a walk. Like Brutus here, I need my exercise."
She snorted dismissively. "Sure you do. Let me guess: varsity football team?"
I smiled wryly. "The College, yes; but I'm not on any of the teams."
"They apparently don't know what they're missing."
This time I snorted. "You haven't seen what kind of a klutz I am. You wouldn't think you could trip on air, but I've done it!"
She laughed. "Listen, I'm meeting my step-brother here. You're welcome to join us for coffee if you want."
I shook my head. "That's ok. I really should be heading back."
"There you are. I—"
The two of us turned at the sound of another voice, and I sputtered a mouth full of coffee as I did a double take of the man approaching. It was Ben.
He looked profoundly uncomfortable for a moment, before looking like he was forcing himself to step forward. "Hey Greg."
"Ben." At a guess I was sure his step-sister didn't know about his extra-curricular activities at the gym.
Terry looked quizzically at the two of them. "You two know each other?"
"We met at the gym the other day," I said, trying to smile smoothly. "Anyway: It's time I was heading back." I gave them both a smile and a nod before striding off, quickly picking up the pace back to a brisk jog.
I didn't get back until almost ten. I stepped into our dorm and grabbed a towel before heading to the bathroom. A shave and a shower later, and I almost felt human again. As I stepped back into our bedroom, Steve looked worriedly at me.
"You ok? You've been a little . . . out of it for the last day or so."
I nodded, dropping my towel and sliding on some underwear. "I'm fine. I just needed a good run to clear my head."
"Look . . . about yesterday . . . "
I shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"No, I really should apologize. I pushed you again, and I really didn't—"
I turned away abruptly. "It's ok, Steve. I got over it—"
"Would you STOP dismissing my apologies?" I looked up, and there was real anger there.
I made myself appear politely unmoved. "They make me uncomfortable," I stated as reasonably as I could. "I've already moved on."
"I haven't. An apology isn't just for the peace of mind of the receiver. The one who offers it needs a degree of closure."
I wisely decided against a flippant remark about Dr. Phil. I took a breath and met his gaze. "Then I accept your apology, spoken or not."
He looked at me with an edged silence for a moment. " . . . I apologize . . . for pushing you into things before you were ready or weren't comfortable doing."
A tendril of guilt wrapped around my chest. "I didn't exactly object, Steven. In fact, I instigated some of what happened yesterday."
"But you were just fooling around. I feel much more than that." He gave me a measuring look. "That scares you."
Damn right it did. I took a breath. " . . . Yes."
Steve suddenly looked depressed. More than depressed. Crushed.
I sighed. "Let me finish getting dressed. You need a drink."
"On a Sunday? Before lunch?" he asked as I slid on a pair of pants and a shirt.
"Something will be open."
We stepped off campus to O'Lanigan's down the street. It had opened fifteen minutes earlier and was completely empty, but we weren't being picky. We sat down at the end of the bar and ordered two beers and two shots of Jack.
The bartender didn't even bat an eye.
We clanked our shot glasses, and I muttered to Steve: "To being fucked up." We downed them with gusto and reached for our beers.
There was silence for a long time, each of us sipping beer like it was the only thing in the world that understood.
A lunch crowd gradually drifted in, and then gradually out again over the next two hours. We nursed beers throughout and finally ordered lunch, considering the only thing I'd had was coffee, and I was sure Steve hadn't had even that.
A new crowd drifted in in anticipation of Sunday afternoon football, and the game started.
Since I could tell Steve wasn't into a game, I was about to suggest leaving when someone bumped into me from behind. Two things happened more or less simultaneously. First, I turned and saw the most gorgeous looking man I had ever seen—and for someone who'd up until recently thought of himself as concretely hetero, it was more than a little disturbing. He was taller than I was, slightly more muscular, and had golden hair and watery-blue eyes. His smile could have stopped world hunger, and his bone structure left mine in the dust—and I wasn't bad. The second thing I noticed was that Steven went as white as a sheet and froze on his barstool.
The guy smiled beautifully at me, making eye contact that was a little bit overly-familiar and vaguely suggestive. "Sorry about that! I'm flailing around like a drunken monkey!"
I took a breath, peripherally aware of Steve's reaction, but my gaze was somehow drawn to the man. I could tell I wasn't the only one having the reaction, because half the bar was surreptitiously watching him. "No worries, my friend." I started turning back to the bar, when he seemed to spot my roommate for the first time.
"Steve!" He stepped forward and extended his hand.
Steve however, was still frozen and both of his hands were gripping his beer stein with enough force to turn them as white as his face. That and his lack of reaction were starting to alarm me.
Somewhat awkwardly, I reached around and shook his hand. "The name's Greg. And you are . . . ?"
"Simeon." He turned back toward me slightly, and I could see the hard muscles beneath his 6'3" frame. Before I realized what he was doing, he smoothly draped his arm across my shoulders, massaging my far deltoid with his hand. "I see you're a 'special' friend to Stevie here." I was surprised enough that his other hand actually managed to caressed my cheek.
Involuntarily, my posture stiffened and my eyes narrowed.
The bartender, like many in the profession, sensed the shift in body language and walked over. "Whatever is going on, your attentions don't seem to be very well-received." He nodded to the door. "You need to leave."
Simeon offered the man a warm, and yet dazzling smile before turning and walking out.
I relaxed as the door closed, trying to shake the feeling that I needed a shower.
Steve sat stock-still for a moment, and then abruptly bolted for the bathroom.
Mouthing a thank you to the bartender, I got up and followed him. I arrived just in time to hear him throw up into the toilet and then sag against the wall, gasping for air. I didn't enter the stall, but stopped just outside.
"He's gone Steven."
There was an unmistakable sob. "No . . . he's not."
"What did he do to you? And where do you know him from?"
Steve's breathing became a little more focused. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Look, I know you have a right to privacy but I really think you should in this case."
"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It." He took a couple more breaths, and then I heard him get up.
He stepped out, looking like a mess. He eyed me with as much ire as he could muster. "Give me five minutes to get cleaned up."
I nodded slowly and returned to the bar.
I emptied my beer, sliding a twenty dollar tip to the bartender as I ordered another. I extended my hand, and the man took it after a moment's hesitation. "Greg."
"Matt."
"Well Matt, I don't know what the fuck that was all about, but thank you for stepping in."
"It happens, although it's usually a young lady caught too unprepared to stick it to some random asshole trying too hard to pick her up." He shrugged and eased away, tending to other patrons.
I looked at my drink and turned the event over in my mind again. Steven and I had been roommates for just over two years, but I really didn't know much about his life before that. I knew he'd used a couple of minor scholarships and worked during the summers to get through the year, and that he had no meaningful financial support from his family. I knew he was from Denver . . . but everything got a little vague after that. He didn't even have a Facebook account.
I wanted to laugh. I certainly hadn't volunteered much more than Steve had. My mother had died of cancer when I was fourteen, and my father had staved off debilitating depression long enough to see me graduate, but was now self-admitted to a long term care facility. I had a sister six years my senior. She checked in on Christmas Day every year 'just to make sure I was still alive.' And finally, an uncle that just barely had enough money set aside to put me through college—having a degree of foresight when I was born and purchasing a modest investment portfolio. I'd sworn to myself I was going to repay him someday—the man didn't really have much of a margin to play with when you got right down to it.
Steve came back, looking almost composed. "We have classes tomorrow, and this has been nothing but a shitty day. Can we leave?"
I nodded and stood up. Matt caught sight of us, and raise a hand. "Hold on." He turned to one of the waitresses. "Get Casey and Martin out of the kitchen. Have them walk around the building to make sure no one's hanging around inappropriately."
"You got it, Matt." The woman disappeared and two heavyset, but solid looking men stepped out of the kitchen and walked out, arriving back in a minute or so later.
"All clear."
I left another twenty on the bar and turned to Steve. "Shall we?"
The walk back in the fading daylight was quiet for several minutes until Steve finally sighed. "That man is dangerous."
"Well I noticed a personal-space issue," I said sarcastically.
"I'm serious Greg. He put me in the hospital for three weeks."
THAT brought me up short. Steve stopped a pace after I did, and I gave him a baleful stare when he turned to face me. "I think you'd better spill it, Steven. Now."
He took a long, shaky breath. "I'm sure you noticed his looks."
"Everyone in that goddamn BAR noticed them Steve." With a little effort I reeled my temper back in.
"Well . . . in high school, he would sleep with anyone who could give him something. ANYONE. Students, teachers, parents . . . Best I can figure: it ended up a game. And it was all about power over people. He manipulated everyone without a qualm." He looked acutely uncomfortable for a moment. " . . . Anyway . . . he took a shine to me when I was in my freshman year. I was small for my age, especially then, and I think he found it a turn on. I kissed him once. ONCE. At a house party. His previous favorite . . . Chris . . . got upset. Over a week he tried to win Simeon back. Tried to interfere. Tried to discredit me. It was enough that Simeon beat the shit out of him to 'get the message across'." Steve couldn't make eye contact with me, and I found I couldn't say anything in response. I was horrified.
"After that . . . I couldn't be around Simeon. The manipulations of the people around him became nauseating. Terrifying. To me, anyway." He took a breath and I could hear him grinding his teeth. "Naturally, this turned him on even more. The more I said no, the more irresistible his attraction became."
"What happened?"
"It started with stalking. I was getting fifty messages and texts a day. He'd find me between classes and 'want to talk'. He'd follow me home after classes and pick me up in the morning."
"Your parents didn't notice or do anything?"
Steve's gaze became decidedly more chilled. "Sure they did. My mother slept with him, and a few weeks later, so did my father. I'm surprised they didn't fucking roll him into an ongoing three-way—except that that would have limited him." He started walking again, and it took a surprising amount of self-possession to stay with him. "And then one day there was a car accident. They were both killed—brake failure, I was told."
"You don't think that he . . . "
"At the time he wouldn't have had the know-how." He paused and glared at me. "But I fully believe he is capable of such and act."
"So what did you do?"
"I disappeared—as well as I was able. I became a ward of the state—shuffled around between well-intentioned people until the age of majority. I deleted my Facebook account and more-or-less turned into a shut in."
"So he's been looking for you."
"Apparently."
"When did this hospital time take place?"
"About a six months after my parents died. I went to see a couple of old friends, and while I was there one of their buddies told him." He shook his head sadly. "He timed it almost perfectly. Everyone was taking off for the night and he caught me alone. I tried to run, and then I tried to fight." Something caught in his voice. "He used a tire iron and clipped the back of my head."
Now I was feeling nauseated.
"Skull fracture. I could easily have died."
Compelled by some obscurely rationalized empathy, I abruptly grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me, planting a kiss firmly on Steve's mouth. We stood there for several seconds, just living in that moment. His lips were firm, yet soft. His breath ragged, and a tear fell. I couldn't tell whose.
We pulled slowly apart, and met each other's eyes. We both knew I'd do anything for him today. Just like he'd do anything for me.
We finished walking to our dorm, and he shucked his shoes and crawled into bed fully clothed. I stood in the doorway and watched him draw the covers over himself, like he could shut out the world.
After a minute I decided he wanted his space and I locked everything up, taking a book to bed so I could read for a couple of hours. I eventually dozed off.
I woke up again at 3:06 to the sound of soft crying. For the briefest of moments I couldn't figure out why, but the day's events seeped into my awareness after a moment.
I got myself out of bed and eased down next to Steven. He had his back turned and was curled into a fetal ball. I gently spooned him, draping my arm across and hugging him until his breathing steadied.
"How does he still have so much power over me?" he whispered.
"He doesn't," I answered softly. "He never did. That's why he's wants you so badly. Because you have always been beyond his control."
He gently shifted so that his back flattened on the bed, and my hand was now feeling his ribs and the bottom of his left pectoral. He kissed me. Gently. Soulfully. I would have scoffed at such an idea yesterday, but it was the only word that fit. His hand shyly felt my chest, groping softly down to where it met my abs.
"Give me tonight," he whispered. " . . . Please."
I kissed him just as gently. "Yes."
His returning affections became more hungry, overshadowing his vulnerability. His hand wandered down my abs to my underwear and slid inside, caressing my right buttock before artlessly wrapping around my inflating penis. He sat up a little, pushing me onto my back. His kisses wandered down from my mouth to my neck, and then to my chest, and finally to my abs. His left hand fondled my cock as his right grasped my underwear and pulled them down. At last, he kissed my glans, tonguing the slit and around it, before taking the whole thing in his mouth. He went down all the way, before his gag reflex kicked in and squeezed my dick, causing me to gasp for breath even while Steven coughed.
I'd had blowjobs before, but Steve was easily ahead of any of the women I'd slept with. He cupped my ass as he bobbed up and down on my dick, eventually worming between my cheeks with his fingers and massaging my hole—something else my female companions had never thought to do. It was arousing to the point where I was trying to hold back, muttering: "You'd better stop that unless you want a face full of my spunk." This only intensified his attentions, and I barely had time to announce: "I'm cumming!" before my hips lifted off the bed, despite Steven's best efforts to hold me down. He stopped bobbing and simply sucked, licking as each spurt left me only to be swallowed with pleasure.
I collapsed from my orgasmic high while Steven came back up to my eye level. He kissed me and I breathed in my own musky scent, tasting his vaguely salty tongue as it met mine.
"That was so beautiful," he breathed.
I rolled onto my side and slid a hand onto his chest, rubbing gently. "I want to reciprocate."
"You don't have to," he said, grabbing my hand.
I gently pulled it out of his grasp. "And yet . . . I'm going to." I slid my hand across his abs, leaning forward to kiss his right nipple. He squirmed as I kissed downward, getting to my knees as I did so. My hands found the elastic to his boxers and eased them down. I was almost surprised to find he was soft, but nuzzled in as his legs spread. I cupped his balls, rolling them gently with my fingers, and lifted his manhood with the other hand, kissing his foreskinned head. My tongue probed into the soft opening and his dick surged to meet it.
"For . . . someone . . . who doesn't know what they're doing . . . I have to give you . . . an A."
I didn't reply, simply tonguing his cock while I shifted from fondling his balls to massaging his taint. He was completely hard in a matter of seconds, suddenly breathing much more heavily and spreading his legs further apart subconsciously. I took as much of him as I could, knowing I was inadequate to the task. His eight inches hit the back of my throat before I could get much past the halfway point, and yet I kept trying, knowing how good it felt. In a surprisingly short time, his heavy breathing gave way to whimpering and his gently rocking hips began grinding into my face with faint thrusts. My free hand wandered down to his asshole, and after massaging it for a few spasms I slid my middle finger in as far as it would go.
Steven didn't even have time to warm be as his dick surged, spewing hot saltiness into my mouth. I worked my finger in and out as his ass gripped it, causing a prolonged orgasm that I don't think either of us was quite expecting.
I didn't let any escape, circling his head with my tongue as each spurt filled me. And like Steve, I swallowed his wholesome goodness, ending it with a kiss to his glans before easing back up next to him.
He simply hugged me, wrapping an arm and a leg around me. I returned the embrace, somehow more comfortable with this than any of my past escapades.
It wasn't until the next morning, after we'd disentangled and each of us had finished our ritual shave and shower that I checked my phone. On it, I found a text with a picture of the two of us kissing on the street.