Content warning for this chapter: homophobia and bullying.
Hotness warning for this chapter:
Chapter 13
It’s the following Wednesday and we’re officially dating. That’s what we landed on calling it, after talking out what that means for both of us. We figured out we don’t just want a physical thing, we’re even trying to take the physical side slow, at least until we tell my dad. Out of respect. I was pleasantly surprised that Mikey is excited to go on actual dates. He wants to hold hands in public and snuggle at the movies and win me stuffed prizes at a carnival. Call me jaded, but you have to understand, every guy I messed around with before Mikey did so entirely on the DL. I was (at best) a dirty femme boy secret, not arm candy for the public eye. But this already feels different.
We set our first actual date for Friday. I have to write an American Lit paper that’s due on Friday, and after Monday and Tuesday nights were spent making out and grinding my eager ass on his growing bulge, I realized I might need to spend some time in the library to get it done on time.
I love our college’s library. It’s an old brick beast from the 30’s with lovingly maintained original oak moldings and floral wallpaper and art nouveau sconces. The shelves tower and the chairs creak. The librarians might be original to the building too, as not one of them looks a day under 85 years old. I’ve been parked at a big wooden table for 2 hours, maybe more, under a stack of early 20th century American literature and one book on bodybuilding I grabbed on a whim. It’s hard to tell time here, which is another plus. I check my phone and see that I’ve got about 30 minutes until Mikey picks me up.
I stretch and yawn, shaking off the afternoon haze from my eyes. A few other students were in this section earlier, but now I find myself alone in the corridor of desks that runs between the stacks. Enough literature for now, might as well take a look at the bodybuilding book so I can reshelve before Mikey gets here. I’m really just researching for tailoring purposes, I assure myself as I flip through page after page of classic athletes in tiny posers. I’m not surprised to see a number of the men modeling muscle groups or posing-routine positions aren’t even as big as Mikey, though they’re all extremely well defined. One guy comes close, his dark brown skin glistening in every photo, purple posers snatched into his striated glutes. A confident glean in his eye as he looks at the camera.
“Oh look, faggot’s got himself a skin mag.” I hear the snide chuckle over my shoulder and I wince and shut the book quickly.
“OH! Don’t stop on my account, go ahead and pull that tiny dick out!” Brett sneers into my ear, his hands gripping the back of my chair hard, holding me in place. He’s whispering, but performatively. Snidely. Like he’s mocking the very space for its expectation of shared respect. “Or is there even in dick in that prissy fucking skirt?”
My stomach is clenched in fear and rage as he reaches a hand over my shoulder to open the book in front of me. “Mmmhmmm. Just as I thought. You like looking at big men, faggot? You’re just dying to get a taste of this, huh?” He jibes, flexing a bicep beside my head. I keep my eyes fixed forward, my teeth grinding in disgust. Fuck this fucker.
“Not really. I like my men with real power.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Fuck you say to me?!” He says at full volume, moving a hand to the back of my neck and gripping hard. I wince at the pain, but realize he’s left me an opening.
“I said get your fucking hands off me.” I bark back at an equal volume, startling him. His grip loosens slightly on my neck and I take my chance, sliding down the chair and ducking under the desk, grabbing my book bag off the floor and scrambling to the aisle.
He’s coming around the desk fast, fire in his eyes, but I’m surprisingly fast when in mortal peril and I flat out run toward the end of the stacks, feeling Brett’s massive footsteps shake the room behind me. “Don’t run! We’re having fun!” He calls out, eliciting a shush from the 95 year old librarian hiding somewhere among the literature.
I round the corner and bolt toward the stairs, speeding down them and praying I don’t slip on the polished stone. I can’t hear him behind me now, but I’m not slowing down for anything. I turn into the long hallway heading toward the lobby and sigh with relief. Almost there. I glance over my shoulder to see if he’s following me and walk blindly into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of hands shoot down and grip my shoulders roughly and I realize my mistake. He doubled back and cut me off.
“Gotcha.” Brett says with a sneer curling his lip.
“Let me go.” I say as firmly as I can muster. He starts to half lift/half walk me into an empty classroom off the hallway. This is it, my brain echoes. Get ready to take another beating. How the fuck am I going to explain this to dad. To Mikey. What if it’s worse. What if this is the fucker who kills me?
“Hey! What the hell is going on down here?” Her voice is like a light in the dark, and I crane in his grip to see who’s speaking. My voice feels frozen but if I can shoot her a look, tell her I need help somehow.
“We’re just messing around! Calm down. Jeez.” Brett barks back at the student working the reception desk, a young woman with full curves and a stern intelligence to her pretty face.
“Get your hands off of her!” She calls out, and for a moment I’m afraid she’s talking to someone else entirely before realizing she means me.
I make eye contact with her and shake my head emphatically NO NO NO.
“That’s not what it looks like. Security!” She calls over her shoulder, keeping one eye on Brett and reaching for her cell phone. His grip releases and he’s already walking down the hall, disappearing around a corner. I slump against the doorframe. Another 2 feet and he’d have had me out of her view. Out of anyone’s view. My head is spinning. She rushes over to me, catching my weight like a fainting debutante in an old movie.
“Hold on. Come here. Sit.” She coos in comfort, ushering me to the reception desk and plopping me in a chair. “What’s your name?”
“Adam. Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve… I. Just. Thank you.” I mutter, trying to get my thoughts under control.
“I’m Claire. Oh, and sorry for any misgendering earlier. I could only see your top and well… Anyway, nice top.” Claire says, handing me a bottle of water.
A rough, loud burst of laughter escapes my lips and I suddenly feel relief wash over me.
“Thanks,” I say with a dry laugh, “I made it.”
“Damn, really?” She says appreciatively.
“Yeah, I’m in the fashion design program.” I reply, then a sickening thought dawns on me, “Shit! I’m going to have to talk to security. What if they want me to file a complaint?”
“Oh, I mean, we can call them when you’re ready. I just yelled that to scare him away. We don’t actually have any security within earshot.” She assures me.
“And… if I don’t want to call security?” I ask.
“Ah. Yeah. I’m not about to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Claire says with a knowing tone, “But I’m also happy to talk about it, if you want.”
…
25 minutes and a lot of way-too-personal sharing later, Claire and I are pretty much bonded for life. She’s a sophomore, majoring in Literature on a partial academic scholarship, hence the work-study. She’s got an effortless comfort vibe that melts my defenses, and I find myself telling her things I wasn’t even aware I was thinking. About Mikey, my dad, fashion, and the Craft Works.
She thinks I should report Brett, but I know what it’s like to report bullying in an academic environment. It’s my word against his (Claire didn’t see him well enough from down the hall to be a witness to anything other than a heated exchange) and the thought of telling some campus security bro what just happened while wearing a silk charmeuse blouse and slacks makes my stomach do backflips. The thought of my dad finding out that I’m being bullied again makes it even worse. And then there’s Mikey…
“Why not tell him? He sounds like the kind of guy who would really want to protect you.” Claire ventures.
“I think that might be exactly why I don’t tell him. We’re still getting to know each other again, and there’s kind of a history with me getting bullied and him not doing anything.”
“Are you scared he’d do that again?”
I shake my head, “I’m scared he’d be so determined to right past wrongs, that he’d do something rash. He’s… um… very strong.” I mumble, vaguely. The whole truth is that I haven’t seen Mikey angry or even really upset since we were kids. Back then, he’d get pissed if I beat him in Soul Calibur too badly and toss his controller, then come back in a huff two minutes later cheerfully demanding a rematch (which I’d also win). Now? I have no idea.
“Ok, we just met, and I don’t know you well, so naturally I’m going to offer you an unsolicited opinion on your entire life as I’ve come to understand it in this conversation.” Claire says, dramatically taking my hands, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, before continuing with, “You cannot deal with everything in your life alone. Everyone needs people. So figure out who you can trust, and do it. Trust them.”
She sighs and waves her hands, as if scattering the heavy thoughts and feelings to the wind. “Also, don’t look now, but the hottest guy I’ve ever seen just walked in.”
I glance up to see who she’s talking about, and am unsurprised to see Mikey sauntering up to the desk in (new) black gym shorts and a weathered gray Incubus band tee. I love seeing him out and about in the world, and even in these austere surroundings, he’s sex on two enormous feet. His ample mound wrestling his massive quads as he walks toward us (possibly in slow motion, I might be imagining it) palpably changes the blood flow in my body and I blush and smile.
“Wait! Are you serious? THAT’S your roommate?!” Claire says in a hushed voice, watching me swoon, then turning her attention back to Mikey’s powerful aura. “Damn. Get it girl.”
Mikey reaches the desk and I stand up to gather my things. “Hey babe,” he says cheerfully, “Making friends? Hi, I’m Mikey.” He says, extending a massive hand to Claire.
“Claire. Please tell me you have a straight brother.” She replies in a playful plea.
…
“She’s a hoot,” Mikey tells me as we walk to the car. Fall is in full swing now and the last bit of twilight glows between the bare tree branches along the quad. I’m walking slow, steps heavy with complicated thoughts. I suddenly think, I was almost assaulted today. I feel the pang of heat in my bruised wrists and amend the thought, I was assaulted today, it just could have been way worse. Remembering Brett’s grip makes my whole body feel cold and a shudder rises up through me.
“Hey, you ok?” I hear Mikey ask as he slips his hand into mine. His hand feels warm and solid in mine and I hold it tight.
“Yeah, just, processing some shit.” I say, and lean my body against him as we near the parking lot. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. I’ve never dated anyone so open with PDA. The privilege of never getting fucked with, I assume. I could get used to this. I slip my arm around his waist and focus on enjoying our lovers’ walk.
We reach the car and load in, me in the driver’s seat. I look over at Mikey, rippling muscles stuffed into his clothes and his whole body stuffed into the passenger seat and I can’t help myself. It feels weird fucking around in the house since we haven’t told my dad, but I need to feel him. I need to touch him. I’m barely aware of my actions as I unbuckle and climb across the shift stick to mount my hot stud right where he’s sitting. I wrap my legs around him and take his face in my hands, kissing him hard and long.
“Hmmph, OK!” Mikey mumbles as I straddle his now rapidly inflating bulge and begin to grind my ass. I feel his shaft rising to meet me, and my own erection aches inside my slacks, so I press it to his abs. He rewards me by moaning into my mouth and taking my ass in his hands, gripping and rubbing each cheek.
I reach alongside the crack between his seat and the door until I find the control level for his seatback. I smirk and stroke his cheek before dropping him backward with a crashing thump. Mikey blurt-laughs as he falls, then looks up at me from his new position with wild, lusty eyes.
“I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but I fucking love it!” He says, bucking his hips beneath my perky ass.
“Not my first car rodeo, but definitely the biggest bull I’ve ever ridden.” I mumble, squeezing his rock hard monster with my ass cheeks. “Let’s free this beast.”
I grab the waistband of his shorts and work them down his thick thighs, exposing black compression shorts. “Holy fuck,” I say, “that was your cock COMPRESSED?”
Mikey growls in response, a low rumble that I feel with my whole body. I peel back the shorts and wrestle his cock free, watching it bob and fully inflate in the open air. I’m kinda kneeling on the floor mat between his massive legs, but determination is strong and I manage to wriggle out of my pants and purple CK briefs. Mikey sees me undressing and pulls his shirt off quickly, popping an armpit seam in the process. I climb back on top of Mikey, but then surprise him by flipping myself around and straddling his face and lining myself up to suck his cock.
“Oh fuck yes!” Mikey says, grabbing my ass with both hands and burying his face in it. His light stubble feels incredible between my cheeks, but I’m face to face with his monster cock and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t my entire focus.
I start slow, running my tongue along the top of his shaft from root to fat mushroom head. I do this again and again, building speed and intensity, getting the entire massive fucker slick with spit. I take a moment and compare his throbbing cock with my own forearm. They’re strikingly similar in size, but his cock is like steel wrapped in velvet, and that thick pulsing vein running along the top drives me wild. I take his tangerine-sized cockhead in my mouth and feel him stretching my jaw. He moans into my taint and a ripple of pleasure flows through my body from there. He’s writhing underneath me, my hard cock pressed between his thick pecs. As I begin to bob up and down, taking a bit more of his girthy shaft with each pass, warming my throat.
I’ve never sucked a cock this big before, but I’m love drunk and cock drunk and with filthy gay gods as my witness, I’ll take this epic fuck club to its hilt or die trying. I feel his head reach the back of my throat and can feel with with my stroking hand how much left I still have to go. I get a good breath in through my nose, and take the plunge.
“Oh FUCK!” Mikey exclaims as I deep throat his monster. “Oh Adam! Oh shit!”
Encouraged and emboldened, I drive his rocket cock deeper into my throat, cutting off my air supply entirely and focus on finding a rhythm. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, but I can feel him bucking and grinding between my legs, his hands wildly roaming over my back, my ass, my legs, my balls, aching for release. I suck and lick and work my way up and down, throat fully relaxing, but still stretched beyond what I thought possible. I pull off and gasp for air, but return immediately. I NEED IT. I want it inside me. I want to feel him erupt and gush his massive load into me. I want him to fill every part of me until I burst. I’m working his shaft with both hands as I take him tip to pubes, ramming him into my throat over and over.
The whole car is rocking on its axles, Mikey’s feet and hands grip the walls of the interior for purchase and I swear to fuck I can hear the metal groan in protest. His breath quickens and his pecs close and flex around my throbbing 7.5” cock pressed between them. I suddenly realize I’m about to blow my load and I moan loudly into his shaft. Which just comes out as vibration.
I feel the first spurt of cum blast out of me and paint streaks down Mikey’s abs. “Oh fuck yeeeah!” He responds, flexing his pecs more around my shaft, squeezing me as I shoot. I feel a shot hit the underside of my own chin as I hear him blurt out, “I’m coming!”
I don’t need to be told, I feel him reach his peak as the shaft expands to climax-hardness inside my throat. I pull back, keeping his head past my tonsils and feel his cock pulse as he roars beneath me an empties blast after blast directly into my stomach. I feel more and more full, and have to pull back further as the gushes don’t seem to be stopping or lessening yet. A blast fills my mouth and I feel it spilling out around his monster head. I swallow as much as I can and collapse on top of my man.
We both lie there for a minute or two. Matching our heavy breathing and slowly relishing our refractory period. Mikey’s hands slowly stroke my body on top of his. Eventually my load starts to cool uncomfortably between us and I untangle my limbs from the awkward car positions they’ve found.
“That was amazing.” He says, pulling me toward him. I spin around clumsily in our combined sweaty mess and cringe laugh as my body slides across his cobblestone abs. Mikey reaches into his gym bag in the backseat, pulling out a slightly damp, sweaty towel for both of us to clean up. He’s grinning from ear to ear. We mop up as much as we can, struggle into our clothes again and I plop back into the driver’s seat.
“So.” I say, buckling up. “Home, or do you need a burger after that?”
Mikey lights up his thousand watt smile, “Burger please!”
