Wolf Like Me v5 - 4. Here for the Bro-down!

Ch 4 -- Here for the Bro-down!

I watched Rice and Cory weaving through the crowd waving red plastic cups at any teammate whose attention they could catch.

People packed the balcony and player’s lounge. It was on the ass-end of July, but the coaches finally had the early freshmen in good enough shape to bring them into the fold, or had weeded out those who wouldn’t work on the team. To celebrate, the coaches and trainers were hosting a massive barbeque in the locker complex for the team. They had invited most of the university’s top brass, along with some good ol’ boy alumni and business partners with deep pockets. There were even some select members of the press on hand--because everything about college football had to be about getting good press if it wasn’t about making money from the efforts of young men.

Thus, we all had to look presentable and act like our mothers had taught us manners. Which meant matching burgundy polo shirts with orange stitching and piping--tucked in, with all the buttons done up (sorry to sound true to stereotype, but an ugly shirt is an ugly goddamn shirt)--and pressed khaki pants that actually fit.

If that sounds like a bunch of children made to wear clothes they don’t like and forced to interact with stuffy grown-ups, all while being stared down by their fathers and reminded to behave or else, then you’re not far off the mark.

I was coming out of my redshirt season, which generated some interest around me. I spent the better part of the luncheon shaking hands with some random rich white dudes and doling out soundbites to a handful of reporters. Not something I wasn’t used to, but I was getting more attention than I had when there wasn’t a chance that I’d end up on the playing field during an actual game.

However, most of the attention centered on Cory, who left Freshmen Camp weeks ahead of the others. It was all anyone could talk about--which meant that I had to talk about it. The coaches announced today that he would be playing with the team this fall, the only freshman without a redshirt. He was a natural with crowds, so everyone wanted to talk to him, and I couldn’t even begrudge him that.

He’d worn his glasses today, which seemed to draw more attention to his eyes rather than hiding them. A couple times throughout the afternoon, our eyes met as we socialized. He’d grin at me, and I’d grin back at him.

Then I’d feel really fucking stupid for how attracted I was to him, and that shit always made me cranky and irritable.

I need to get a grip before I embarrass myself.

After a couple hours of dutifully seducing old white guys into forking over their cash (to the Football Program, ’cause heaven forbid we make any bank off our own hard work), we were allowed to relax.

I even got to undo one of the buttons on my fucking shirt.

Cory had been running around with Rice, trying to convince a bunch of people to put weird shit on fruit.

A couple days ago, Cory got a care package from his mother that contained--among five more pairs of Converse--some Mexican candies and a big bottle of chamoy, this blood red condiment that looked rather revolting. Apparently, it went on everything, including watermelon, which, like sweet tea, was never in short supply at a Southern barbeque. Both guys had plastic cups packed with fruit and doused in chamoy and some chili-lime salt they’d called “lucas”.

I was their next target.

“Dude, seriously,” Rice said. He’d already tried to get me to eat it a couple times already. “Just try it.”

Cory speared a piece of melon on his fork and waved it in my face. A drop of chamoy fell off and plopped wetly on the concrete. Good thing we were outside or Vuis would pitch a fit.

“Come on, Efrain. You know you want to.”

I knew I wanted to do a lot of things. They all involved things he wouldn’t like. But, the kid says my name with that taunting voice and good boy grin, and suddenly I can’t say no to him.

“Fine.” I bit the fruit off his fork and immediately wished I hadn’t. This weird mix of salty, sweet, and spicy, and I swore there was this kind of pickled flavor somewhere.

“Oh, I ask you three times, but the first time Card says something…” Rice threw up his hands in frustration.

I was probably more infatuated with Cory than I should be, but I seriously did not do everything he asked me to. I finished chewing and tried to swallow, if only to defend myself. Yet, the longer it was in my mouth…

“Huh, that’s actually pretty good.”

Cory turned to Rice.

“I told you I could get him to eat it. You owe me lunch.”

“Dammit, Garza,” Rice swore.

I should have felt offended at being tricked, but Cory beamed at me and shoved more sauced fruit in his mouth, his tongue peaking out to gather sauce off his bottom lip, and my indignation slipped away under that deep blue gaze.

Thankfully, Rice led him off to sucker in more of our teammates before I lost my wits completely.

~*~*~*~

Nope, my wits are completely lost.

The last time I’d boned up in the locker room was early high school. There I was, just minding my own fucking business, when Oh hey, guys, this is my penis. I wasn’t even looking at my peers, my dick just made a grab for attention in a room that just happened to be full of guys in various states of undress. Of course it was embarrassing, but I wasn’t the only one it had happened to, so it didn’t matter to anyone. My dick was just doing what adolescent dicks do.

If only I could still use that excuse.

Okay, it wasn’t like I was actively creeping on my straight teammate.

I just happened to see Cory, out of the corner of my eye, coming out of the showers, towel around his waist and water still clinging to his chest. His upper body was a full expanse of tight, rippling muscles, with just enough body fat to keep him from looking too hard and veiny. My mouth watered just thinking about lapping droplets off his warm skin.

He took another towel and started drying his hair.

And that’s when the towel around his hips slipped off.

I looked away and focused on getting my shorts on.

“Damn, Card,” I heard Teague say. “Are you sure you aren’t black, too?”

Against my better judgement, I looked over.

Lithgow and Cory were giving him almost identical flat stares. Cory held the towel in front of his crotch, but the entire length of his powerful legs were exposed. All of it, from trim ankle to the rounded swell of his ass, covered in blonde hair so fair as to be non-existent, burned into my eyes before I had the good sense to look elsewhere.

I got my shirt over my head and tried not to think about the blood rushing to my dick.

“Could you be less weird, Teague?”

I dealt with my embarrassment the same way I dealt with any other emotion I didn’t like.

“Oh, lay off him, Lithgow. When you’re that small, every dick is monstrous.” I got my shoes on and sauntered over to lean against the last locker in their row.

“Fuck, we must be talking micro-peen,” Lithgow said. “If the size of his truck is any indication, Card’s dick can’t be that big.”

“Vehicle size seems like a poor measure,” Cory reasoned, looking Lithgow up and down. “Or else you’d need a semi.”

“Damn, Lithgow,” said one of the guys on the other side of their section. “I think the trainers might have some cream for that burn.”

Card smirked. He set down his towel and started stepping into his underwear--these cute short boxer briefs he called “trunks” the other time Teague made a comment about Cory’s lower half. I tried and failed to not look at what was nestled in his light brown pubic hair. Even flaccid, I could tell that he didn’t need to compensate for anything.

“So, is everyone done creeping on my dick?”

Nope. Not on your life, kid.

He looked at each of us. “You guys good?” He included the guys at the lockers behind him. “Great,” he said when no one offered an argument. Then, he turned to pull on the rest of his clothes.

“It seems that we have been dismissed, gentlemen,” I said and walked off before I really embarrassed myself.

On my way out of the locker complex, Vuis stopped me to talk about my progress.

“You’ve grown a lot, son. It was good thinking to put Card on your ass.”

I realized that’s when all this started. That first tackle. Fuck you, well-meaning coach. It was all I could do to say something polite and leave. I’d been pushing myself lately, mainly to keep up with Cory, but it had paid off. I just wished the price hadn’t been so steep.

On the way to the bus stop, I started messing with Grindr. I’d lost interest in hooking up a month or so ago, which could have been why I was panting after Cory. I just needed to get balls deep in someone’s ass, that’s all. Once I’d satisfied that urge, his rolling “r” and slate-blue eyes and…

Fucking hell!

I spent the whole bus ride discreetly swiping through matches and pretending that my hard-on was from the pictures on my phone and not a certain baby-faced lineman with delicious thighs and glistening pecs.

I had a date before I reached my stop.

~*~*~*~

I leaned back against the wall watching the crowd mingle. There really wasn’t much in the way of music to be had, this being more mixer than full-on frat party, and the brothers of the house were more interested in hooking up with the drunk sorority sisters they’d roped into this little shindig than chatting up underclassmen outside of rush season.

Efrain leaned his shoulder on the wall next to me. He’d worn his dark hair unbound, letting it fall down the side of his head in thick, glossy waves. Chin-length strands occasionally fell into his eyes, at times compelling my fingers to tuck them behind his ear. Not that that wasn’t the first time I’d wanted to get my fingers in his hair.

He handed me a bottle of water before opening his own. “Found these hiding in a cooler.”

“Thank fuck,” I said gratefully. “Now I can stop pretending I’m drinking this shit.” I set aside the warm cup of beer some frat guy had shoved into my hand an hour or so ago.

Efrain smirked.

That fucker had no business smirking.

I was only here because one of his buddies from aerospace had been all over him about rushing here and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Efrain was then all over me about coming with him, kept bringing up how I could hook up with all these fucking sorority girls, and it was just easier to go along with him than to explain that I was too hungry for dick to pay attention to girls, let alone the sisters on offer tonight.

He better be grateful that I did come because that little buddy of his ditched him as soon as he introduced us to one of the frat officers, his job of bringing in lambs for the slaughter apparently done.

“Your first time at a frat party?” Efrain asked.

I shook my head. “Nah, went to a couple parties with my brothers when I toured their schools last summer. They were all in frats.”

“So, this must be old hat then.”

“Nobody in Virginia knows me as so-and-so’s brother, so I’m treading new ground here.” I rolled my eyes. “Although, I’m counting the days until Phi Gamma Delta finds out I’m connected to three brothers from two different chapters.”

“The guys at Theta aren’t that bad,” Efrain said looking around.

“Been here before?”

“Yeah, during last rush,” he said. “Jef wanted me to rush with him last fall, but did about the same thing when we got here.” He rolled his eyes. Last we saw of him, his aerospace buddy was in a darkened corner, tongue-deep in some drunk girl’s face.

“But, the girls are fucking ridiculous tonight,” he added, running his fingers through his hair. I couldn’t blame him--several girls had dug their manicured claws into his hair before we’d escaped.

I couldn’t blame them either.

“You mean they aren’t crawling all over you like that all the time?”

“Yeah. Groupies are bold as hell and all that, but they’ve never been that demanding.”

“A bunch of them were whining that our teammates don’t dance,” I said. The little music the frat had played left much to be desired, and while I did dance for a bit, the combination of grabby sisters and shitty music got old fast.

“We don’t,” he said. “Unless we want to catch hell for it later.”

“I haven’t.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed. “You had three women on you at once.”

“If I recall, you were in the middle of all that, too.”

“But, you took ’em all home. Rumor is you’ve fucked them all. At the same time.”

I chuckled. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not a single one.”

“‘Just friends’, huh?” he said.

I nodded. “I haven’t gotten into picking up people at bars and parties yet.”

Efrain arched his eyebrow.

“It’s not like I’m not into NSA fucking,” I clarified. “I’m just not a big fan of random hookups.”

“Fair enough.”

“Although,” I said,. “I could probably hook you up with one of them.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Over Efrain’s shoulder, I noticed a brother stumbling over to us. “Ryan!” He clapped Efrain on their shoulder. According to Efrain, “Ryan”, a “close enough” pronunciation of his nickname ’Rain, was what he usually introduced himself as when dealing with drunk white people. The guy looked at me with that “I have no idea who you are” look.

“Cory,” I said.

“Cory!” he shouted, fist-bumping me with the hand that still held his beer. Warm, weak-piss colored liquid spilled on to my shirt. Beer goggles apparently made it difficult to see when you’d pissed off a two-hundred pound lineman, so random frat bro didn’t clear off. He instead jostled Efrain shoulder rather vigorously, similarly blind to the darkening moods of shredded wide receivers. God, no wonder these assholes have issues with consent. “There’s tons of hot girls out here tonight, man. Don’t let this guy cockblock ya.”

“Eh, I’m good,” I said. “’Sides, guys in my family have a bad habit of stealing girls from frat officers, so Imma behave myself tonight.”

I caught Efrain suppressing what looked like a giggle, but random frat bro barely noticed.

“Aw, fuck, there’s two of you now,” he whined. “Bad enough this asshole thinks VT girls aren’t good enough for him.” He shook Efrain’s shoulder again.

“VT girls ain’t got anything I’m interested in,” Efrain said, coolly finishing off his bottled water.

“More VT girls for you,” I added with a shrug.

“Speaking of which,” Efrain said. “Cory promised he’d give me his notes from that ape fucking class.” Efrain gave me a pointed look.

Finally! An Exit!

“Ape fucking?” the guy said.

“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot,” I said, slapping my forehead. “Should go get those before my dumb ass forgets them again.”

“Now?” he said.

“Now works.”

Efrain pulled the guy’s hand off his shoulder and shoved the empty bottle into it. “Tell Jef that I’ll see him around.” He then jostled his shoulder enough to slosh the cup of beer in his hand.

“Yeah, what Ryan said.” I also jostled the guy’s shoulder, taking perverse pleasure in increasing the amount of beer spilling over the rim onto his hand and clothes.

Efrain and I edged around him and wound our way to the front door.

“Do you even know that guy’s name?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Do I need to know that guy’s name?”

“Hell no.”

I chucked and he grinned crookedly. A breeze shifted the balmy night air, rustling through my hair and drying the sweat I’d accumulated at the frat, as we walked away from Oak Lane, the Greek on-campus housing area.

“Kinda nippy out,” Efrain said.

I looked down at my chest where my nipples had pebbled against the thin fabric of my t-shirt, especially where I’d been soaked with beer. I heard Efrain’s short, quiet laugh and rolled my eyes.

“So, you don’t fuck VT girls.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded.

“First I’ve heard of it,” I said.

He shrugged. “The team doesn’t make a big deal about which girls you’re fucking as long as you aren’t fucking theirs. And they don’t need to know who I’m fucking, anyways.”

“I see.”

“Besides, I told them I had no interest in their sloppy seconds, or running into old flames when I’m tryin’ to get somewhere.”

“Fair point,” I said.

“That’s what they said.”

“I suppose it’s more of an issue for frats.”

“How so?”

“Well, if you don’t fuck with VT girls, but their main selling point is that VT girls will fuck with you,” I said, “they’ve basically got nothing to sell you on.”

“Which is why I’m not in a frat.”

“I mean, what could they sell you on at that point?” I said. “Bro-downs?”

“With or without the homoerotic connotation?” he asked dryly.

“I thought the homoerotic connotation was a given.”

“It’s always a given, just latent and in-denial.”

I snorted. “No homo, my ass.”

“Well, if you’re putting your ass out there…”

I giggled. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“A hole is a hole.”

“Any hole is a goal.”

“Any port in a storm.”

“One up the bum, no harm done.”

By that point, we were stalled on the sidewalk laughing our asses off while he tried to get out something about taking the dirt track and I tried to get out something about taking one for the team. We ended up bent double because we’d run out of air, but managed to stop long enough to catch our breath.

Only for him to make a joke about bending over which set us off all over again.

After that, all it took was looking at each other to start another wave of laughter and half-wheezed man-sex jokes. Unable to stay upright, I plopped down on my ass in the grass, and he collapsed beside me. It took a while, but we eventually calmed down. There was still the occasional hiccup of laughter, mainly because we lacked the energy to handle anything more vigorous.

Efrain rolled onto his back and groaned, rubbing his flat stomach. “God, that hurts worse than ab death.”

“Ab death” was what we all called the ten-exercise core circuit they sometimes made us do during conditioning--only they didn’t have us do like three runs through the circuit. No, those assholes set a timer and told us to do as many as we could, without breaks, in half an hour. We’re competitive enough as it is, but get a bunch of dumbass football players doing ab death circuits together and you suddenly find yourself trying to run through the damn thing several dozen times just to say you beat someone else’s record. You’d barely be able to move the next day, but when ab death reared its ugly head again, it would be painfully obvious that none of us had learned our lesson.

I took a careful breath, trying to ease the cramping in my stomach. “Worse than ab death” is right. “Dude, are you trying to fuckin’ kill me?” I said, my eyes still watering.

Efrain stood up. “Of course I am,” he said. “Can’t have some punk ass freshman showing me up all the time.”

“Like hell I am!”

He reached down to give me a hand up. “Like hell you ain’t!”

I grabbed his hand, but dug in my heels and jerked down as he tried to pull me up. I rolled away quickly and jumped to my feet, leaving him sprawled on the ground. “You’re as much of a punk ass freshman as I am.”

He gaped at me.

“’Sides, I’m not showing you up,” I said. His eyes narrowed. “You just suck that fucking bad.”

He growled. “Fuck. You.”

“No,” I growled back. “Fuck. You.”

Efrain launched himself at me, and I bolted, laughing and screaming (but, you know, manly screaming) until he finally got close enough to tackle me.

~*~*~*~

Sleep, eat, practice, creep on Cory, fuck some random guy, sleep, eat, practice, accidentally flirt with Cory and hope he doesn’t notice, fuck some random guy, sleep, eat, practice, spend an entire night chatting with Cory at a party, fuck some random guy because he kinda looked like Cory, sleep, eat…

I threw myself into football and fucking around, but my mind kept going back to Cory. I probably wouldn’t want him as much if I could just have him. I tended to lose interest in a guy not long after the first fuck, and it was rare for a guy to last more than a week. I’d never even had an actual boyfriend.

It was probably for the best that he was straight. Fucking the guy and getting bored with him soon after would mess with our friendship.

I liked him. I liked hanging around him. I just wished my dick would get with the program.

But, it wouldn’t.

And thus, I was looking up pictures of him on Facebook. The recent ones from hanging out with the team all the way back to stuff from before he came to Virginia.

There were the ones of us dancing with Marina and her friends that, let’s be honest, I’d already jerked off to a couple times. Ones of him in his practice uniform. Ones of him laughing with me at parties. I probably liked those more than the professionally done press photos.

I kept going back in his feed. I found pictures of him with old friends during homecoming week wearing football jerseys and these weird garters over their biceps that were weighted down with ribbons in their school colors reaching down to their hands. They were so heavy with all the bells and whistles (no, literally, bells and whistles), that I didn’t know how they kept them from falling down. He wasn’t the Homecoming King, but he should have been. Even without the muscle definition he currently boasted, he was still fucking hot.

And further on I went. Cory playing football with his high school team. Cory with longer hair. Cory with shorter hair. Cory in a million different pairs of Chucks. Cory in a cowboy hat and boots. Cory in swim trunks. Cory when he still had braces. Cory sending each of his brothers off to college.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. As much as I wanted to deny it, I had it bad. I managed to make it this far without losing my shit over a teammate, yet here I was, a fucking idiot lusting over pictures of my straight teammate’s fifteen-year-old self in a soccer uniform. I thought I’d be safer creep-stalking him in the living room, where I couldn’t immediately whip out my cock and start pumping, but the urge was just as strong.

I was at my limit when I finally noticed his profile information. All at once his “column A, column B” comment made sense. Why didn’t I notice this before? I suddenly felt like shouting.

Then, Indie stumbled in, drunk and rambling about how he fucked up.

~*~*~*~

I sped down the hall to Cory’s dorm suite, looking like my usual cute self in a polo-shirt and rolled-up jeans. I knocked on his door.

“It’s open!” he called.

When I walked in, he was sitting on the common room sofa with his laptop open on the coffee table. I didn’t even let him get a word in before I bounced onto the seat next to him and started in with my carefully rehearsed speech.

“So, we need to make leggings a thing. Or not even leggings, like a legging equivalent. Some kind of casual athleisure wear thing that we can justify as legit pants. By the way, you look hot in glasses. You should wear glasses more. You know there are some basic bitches who wear leggings when they really shouldn’t. I could totally pull off leggings. We got manbuns. Manbuns are a thing. Your roomie, Fabio, totally has a manbun. It’s cute. Leggings are like the next logical leap. Come on, man, leggings! Leeee-eeee-eeee-eeeeggiiii-iiii-iiii-iiiings.” I gripped his shoulders and shook him on each added syllable.

“How much coffee did you have?”

“Not enough,” I said as I hung off his neck. “Oh, speaking of roommates. I know you said no. Well, your exact words were, ‘Hell-fucking-no, Cumdumpster.’ But I digress. Anyhow, I still think you should let me turn one of your roommates gay. Or partially gay. At least gay enough that I can cop a feel every once in a while. Just have to identify the most likely candidate. Maybe I should turn all of them. That would be fun.”

Cory pinched the bridge of his nose and I heard a peal of laughter from the laptop. His entirely too bangable best friend was laughing his ass off in an open Skype window.

“Your roommates are there, aren’t they?” he asked.

“All of them.”

I looked up. The gloriously golden Al (he of the manbun) was in the kitchenette with a spoonful of cereal frozen mid-way between his bowl and his mouth. The darkly handsome Gio peeked out from their room as I heard the sweetly cute Romero yell, “I volunteer Gio as tribute!” from his and Cory’s room. I smiled charmingly and waved.

“Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Preston,” Keenan said. We’d chatted via comments on Facebook, but this was the first time I’d heard his voice and it was making me a little wet.

I purred and snuggled into Cory. “Hey, Cutestuff.”

“So, what are you calling Cory this week?”

“The Dread Pirate Blueballs,” I said in my most dramatic and serious voice. Al choked on a bite of cereal. My little pet names for Cory had become a thing now. Kiley, wonderful box-eating Kiley, even let me add it to the GSA minutes. Seriously. The words Secretary Preston James Finnegan motions that Member Cory Frederick Card be known as The Dread Pirate Blueballs until otherwise decided were on the official record. It was quickly seconded and granted, despite Cory’s objections.

“I have to hear this.” Gio came out and eagerly plopped down in one of the armchairs. Cory had told me about “Tex”, and now that these three were in on my name game, I imagine that he regretted it.

“No,” Cory said. “You don’t.”

I ignored him. “So, last Friday, we were at this party, see, and Blueballs has been chasing his TA all over the place.”

“One of Professor Collins’ TAs?” Romero moved from the doorway, grabbed one of the chairs from the breakfast bar, and sat in it backwards.

Hmmm…there’s nothing hotter than manspreading.

“Yup.”

“Wait, which one? Mike Tran or Indie Norman?”

“The tall one with blue hair.”

“Indie? Seriously?”

“Yessir. And our main man here managed to pin him down in Kiley’s room.”

Cory dropped his face into his hands. “Could you not tell them this?”

“And they’re all over each other.”

“I was not all over him.”

“Norman?” Romero asked in a disbelieving voice.

“Yep, turns out he has a ten-inch dick,” I said.

“That guy?”

“I wasn’t exactly able to measure,” Cory answered, his forehead resting on his fist like he was The Thinker or something. His cheeks were an adorable shade of red. “But, he’s hung like a goddamn horse.”

Romero’s face was stuck somewhere between awe and horror.

“So, yeah, Blueballs is facing off with the Asswrecker.” The guys got a kick out of that. I think I have a small talent for these names. “But guess who ends up running off with his tail between his legs.”

“No shit,” said Keenan from the laptop.

“So, Cory struck out with Mr. Freeze.” Damn, Gio wasn’t too bad with nicknames.

“Bitch is colder than Elsa,” I confirmed. “Poor guy is like would you like to build a snowman? and that ice queen was like nope!”

“Whatever. He probably had a reason,” Cory said, bravely putting up a confident front despite the crushing rejection he had suffered. My little trooper. I pressed his face to my chest and stroked his hair. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“Come on, Anna,” I said soothingly. “Let’s go to the gay bar and bait bears.”

Gio looked confused. “Do I want to know what Tweaker Bell just suggested?”

“No,” Cory answered, quickly putting a hand over my mouth and cutting me off. “And he’s not going to explain it.” He narrowed his eyes at me and lowered his voice. “Ever.”

~*~*~*~

I got all of a weekend to be bummed out about Indie. Just two days to feel sorry for myself.

Then I had my hands full with Efrain.

I’d been hanging out with him a lot for the past few weeks. He said he liked chilling with me because I was the only one who could pronounce his first name (“I told those assholes ‘It’s Ef-RYE-een, motherfucker’ but they still don’t get it!”). It was just hanging out at parties at first, then he started asking me what I was doing for lunch, or if I wanted a workout partner, or wanted someone to show me around campus.

But, I liked his dark humor, and it didn’t hurt that Efrain was nice to look at.

Okay, “nice to look at” was understating it--the man was fucking hot as hell. Like ten times hotter than Indie.

And it was getting harder to ignore the more we were around each other.

He was beautiful from top to bottom, inside and out. And I was a sucker for his eyes. He’s all dark features and rugged lines, making his gaze--shifting somewhere between light green and gold--that much more striking.

Then, there was his mouth. The gods made that mouth, then wept that it would never touch the cocks of god or mortal. In my weaker moments, the way his mouth curved into that easy wolfish grin of his made the blood rush to my groin. It took all of my self-control in those moments to not beg the man to eat me up.

That part had become more of an issue lately. I was already hungry for a man, and I knew I was just deluding myself, but since the Indie incident it felt like there had been more to the casual joking. More and more, it felt like flirting. It wasn’t even a gradual change. One week we’re just teammates rough housing in the grass on the way back from a lame party, and the next we’re all but glued at the hip.

I had made a point to stop drinking, especially around Efrain, because the last thing my ego needed was to send another man screaming and running out of the room because my drunk and desperate ass crawled into his lap like an overgrown kitten searching for some lovin’.

I guess getting shot down by Indie hit “Cockthirsty Cory” harder than I let on.

In any case, I was pretty sure that Efrain wouldn't spend hours joking and rough housing with me at parties if he knew I liked men. Yet, whether or not he was aware of what he did to my head, the effect was the same. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, which had led to my rising dilemma.

Efrain had already showered and changed after today’s practice, yet lingered to joke around with Teague and Lithgow. He’d been doing it for a while now, which was fine most of the time. But I was finding it harder to hide the way Efrain affected me, and sometimes the fact that we were in a room full of other guys changing in or out of their practice uniforms made the effect stronger. His deep voice made me flush enough; meeting his eyes, or remembering what he looked like under his clothes (sneaking a peek was the worst idea ever), would undo me.

I liked Efrain, even in the platonic not-trying-to-fuck-him sense, and I really wasn’t trying to fuck him. But could he have some sense of self-preservation, for fuck’s sake?

When I finished getting dressed and headed out, he fell in step with me. I had been trying to limit how much time I spent alone with him, and only let myself relax only when we reached the atrium.

He sighed. “Well, this sucks.”

“Hm?”

Efrain gestured to the glass doors where a light drizzle fell on the other side.

“It’s not that bad,” I said.

“Unless you have a half-hour wait for the next bus.”

“Your fault for living in the suburbs.”

“Hey, I don’t live that far.”

I shrugged. “My truck’s only two blocks away, if you want a ride.” It would take me well out of my way to get there, but I’d never been out to the house he shared with two older students and my curiosity was getting the better of my caution.

Efrain accepted my offer and followed me to the parking lot. Light summer rain had given way to heavy summer deluge before we could make it there.

“Fuck, if you didn’t take so damn long in the shower,” Efrain laughed as we jumped in. “I’d be standing out there like a jackass when that hit.”

We remained quiet while the cab warmed up and we gradually stopped shivering. Even with him getting soaked, I could smell his cologne--YSL’s La Nuit De L’Homme. Some random chick gave it to him last season, hoping to get in his pants (she apparently didn’t get the “I don’t fuck VT girls” memo). The dark spicy notes had fit him perfectly and he’d worn it ever since.

He smelled so goddamn good that I wanted to rub myself all over him. I put the truck in gear and got on the road before I could give in to my baser urges.

After sitting with me in companionable silence for a while, Efrain turned in his seat and turned down the stereo.

“Okay, so get this,” he began. “A couple weeks ago, my roommate, Indie, comes home…”

“Indie?”

“Yeah, Indie Norman. Grad student, glasses, tons of piercings, tall as fuck, blue hair--I think he dyed it something else last night, so who knows what color it is now.”

My stomach dropped. This is where I get my ass kicked, isn’t it?

“So, he comes home plastered, bitching about how he wasted the whole night at this party fooling around with some freshman football player.”

“Oh?” Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

“Apparently, the guy had cornered him in a bedroom,” he continued, as if he was letting me in on some great big conspiracy. “They were totally down to fuck, too. But, the guy turned out to be bisexual, and Indie has this fucking lame ass hang-up about men who are bi.”

I remained silent, remembering the teasing and flirting, the questing fingers and tongues, the sudden shitty excuse about grading some fucking exam papers (that I knew he’d already graded because one of them was fucking mine) which left me high and dry.

At least I finally know why he ran out though. Fucking bi-phobia.

“I asked if it was you.”

“Me? Why’d you think it’s me?”

Efrain arched an eyebrow. “Facebook profile.”

Seriously, that status had been on my profile for fucking months and still no one from Texas had noticed. Not even my mom, and she is all over that shit.

“I also showed him a picture to confirm.”

“Oh.” Caught. I suddenly felt hot and cold all over. “So, why’d you want to know that?”

“Curious, really. Plus, he and I seem to lust after the same guys, so it was a reasonable assumption.”

We came to a stop sign and I hit the brakes harder than I meant to.

“What?” I turned to find him grinning wickedly.

“Indie and I have similar tastes--blonde, blue-eyed muscle cubs.”

I barked out a sudden nervous laugh as I turned the truck into the neighborhood.

“The fuck is a muscle cub?”

“The kind that I like to make cry.”

I tried to ignore the heat pooling in my groin.

“Seriously? Like tears and all that shit?”

“Nah. Nothing like that. Like coming so hard you can’t control how loud you are,” Efrain said, giving me an appraising look. “Although, making a guy like you scream and get weepy would be interesting.”

I rolled my eyes. “We need to find you some better pick-up lines.”

“Not really.”

I pulled into his driveway and put the truck in park. With the rain continuing to pound against the windows, the truck felt too confining, the man in the passenger seat too close for me to keep calm. I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Besides,” he added. “I can’t put my finger on why, but that line seems to be working just fine.”

“You know, most guys who brag about that kinda stuff seem to be the least likely to actually deliver,” I bluffed. While I lost my virginity to a girl in middle school, I had done very little with guys aside from fooling around until my mid-teens. My experience with men was pretty limited.

“That sounded like a challenge.”

“And that sounded like a waste of time.” I sat back and turned toward Efrain, trying really hard to sound bored and totally over it, only so I wouldn’t sound completely desperate. “I’m sure there’s a point to this.”

“There is,” he said simply. And with that, he leaned over the center console, bringing his full, generous mouth close enough to brush against mine as he spoke. “I want to make you cry, Cory.”

Lame ass pick-up line or not, a small shiver ran up my spine as Efrain took my mouth, nibbling my lips and drawing me deeper into the kiss until it made both of us breathless. His hand tickled up my inner thigh, finding the erection straining the front of my damp jeans. He teased me while his tongue invaded my mouth. A moan escaped my throat and I gripped the sides of my seat to keep from grabbing him.

He broke off the kiss and pulled back far enough to meet my gaze. The naked lust in his hazel eyes warmed me all the way down to my toes.

“Come in with me.” It seemed more command than request. “We’ll get soaked, but I have a shower big enough to fuck around in while we warm up.”

I didn’t trust myself to respond, and instead killed the engine and removed the keys from the ignition.

“Hell yeah,” he said, as if my agreement was a personal triumph.

We opened our respective car doors and made a run for the house. He opened the front door and pulled me inside, pinning me against the wall with his body. Here, our kissing became more aggressive and insistent. Hands frantically peeled off sodden clothing, forming a trail as Efrain guided me back to his room.

Once in his room, he went to pull something from his nightstand, leaving me shivering, nervous, and wearing nothing but my trunks in the middle of the room.

“The master suite, huh?”

He shrugged. “It happened to be the room open when I moved in.” He took me by the hand and led me into the adjoining bathroom. He was carrying a small black bottle and some condoms in his other hand.

“Water-based lube in a shower? Sounds super effective,” I joked. My lust-hazy thoughts were finally starting to wrap themselves around the developments of the past half hour and it was making me a little light-headed. Somehow, You’re about to let another closeted teammate fuck you, you fucking dumbass! had been drowned out by all the other voices in my head singing the goddamn Hallelujah Chorus because I was finally getting some dick.

“Nope, silicone.” Efrain reached in the shower to set both items down on a small bench and turn on the water. Satisfied, he turned back and tugged at my hand. I stepped into him and melted against his body. His tongue explored my mouth while he skimmed my underwear over my ass and down my thighs. I pushed his boxer briefs over his hips and he shimmied out of them. Now that the room was starting to warm up from the steam, I felt the blood pooling in my groin again and signs of his arousal pressing against my thigh.

Efrain nibbled down my neck and shoulder, so I finally allowed myself to admire his body. Dark olive skin stretched over tightly corded muscles, with a light dusting of dark hair over his pecs and a trail of hair from his navel down. A nice contrast to my own bulkier muscle mass and sparse body hair. The cut of his obliques and abs angled down into a thatch of dark, curly hair from which his long, thick cock proudly stood. As he dug his fingers into my rounded ass, I wrapped my fingers around his dick.

Efrain yelped. “Dude, your hands are fucking freezing.”

“There’s an easy way to fix that,” I said and pulled away to step inside the shower.

He wasn’t kidding about the size of the thing. You couldn’t lie down in it, but there was plenty enough room to bend someone over. Hot water flowed out of two showerheads, hitting my body from two different directions, and my eyes about rolled up into my head.

Efrain entered behind me. “Oh fuck,” he grunted. “Nevermind about your hands.” He placed his hands (which were also cold) on my hips and rubbed his cock against my ass. Goosebumps tightened my skin as I pressed my hips into his groin. “Goddamn, your ass is fuckable.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck my ass?” I asked him over my shoulder.

“You can’t have an ass this good and not let a man get it,” he growled into my ear. “Besides, everything about you screams that you need a big dick to fill you up.”

“Is that how you’re gonna make me cry?”

Efrain brushed his lips against my earlobe. “I have my methods,” he rumbled in a voice that made my cock throb and my nipples harden. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of my ear.

“You have methods?” I mocked as he nibbled the side of my neck and shoulder. “Seems like all you’ve done so far is tease.”

“Is that so?” Efrain abruptly turned me around, and shoved me against the cold tile wall. I whimpered when he took my mouth in another bruising kiss. His hands grabbed my ass, squeezing and spreading the cheeks. A finger would intermittently stroke over my hole, eliciting more whimpering. “So, no teasing, huh?”

“No,” I moaned, widening my stance. Those fingers had begun massaging and pressing into the furled ring of my entrance. Efrain nibbled down to my nipple and teased it with his tongue and teeth before switching to the other. I grunted, unable to decide which of the two sensations I wanted to press into the most. Efrain was now the second guy to play with my nipples and it seemed that I was very much into it.

Efrain licked a trail along my abdomen while he lowered himself down onto his knees. I whined at the loss of sensation on my nips and hole, but then his mouth played with the head of my dick, nipping at the glans and toying with the frenulum. “Not even this kind of teasing?”

“That’s tolerable.” I was still trying to maintain a poker face, but my voice faltered when Efrain slid his tongue around the head. I barely noticed when Efrain picked up the little black bottle until his slicked fingers began drawing lazy circles between my cheeks.

“Oh God.”

He slid the other hand behind my knee to bend the leg and guide my foot onto the corner bench. Fingers continued to rub in little circles from right behind my balls all the way back to press firmly against my hole. I struggled to hide how much I wanted to beg for more as the mouth on my cock continued to draw me in. Efrain’s hazel eyes locked with mine and he slid the very tip of his finger inside.

“Fuck,” I let out in a shuddering breath. Efrain’s finger worked in deeper, plying open my ass, letting my now rocking hips work my cock further between his lips. “Fuck!” I moaned again, repeating the word over and over as Efrain ground his knuckles against my sensitive ass. I arched my back, adding my own resistance to the grinding. He pulled his finger back and thrust into me slowly. “More,” I mewled. “Please.”

He pulled free and pressed a second finger inside. I hissed, enjoying the stretch as he worked me slowly until I’d opened enough for him to fuck me on his fingers.

“God, ’Rain,” I grunted. He’d found my prostate and seemed to take perverse joy in tapping and massaging the bundle of nerves until my legs started shaking.

As fingers worked, his mouth stayed busy on my dick. I thought I gave great head, and thought I’d received it too, but Efrain was something else. Nipping and nibbling with his lips, teasing with both the tip and the flat of his tongue, alternating between shallow and deep throating. My length wasn’t exactly monstrous, but it wasn’t small either. Yet he still got the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. I knew I wouldn’t be able to return that favor, especially since he was definitely larger than me.

Randomly, he paused and held me between his teeth, firm enough for the sensation to register. Everything I’d ever read or had been told on the matter absolutely forbid teeth during oral, and I’d had enough experience with bad blowjobs to know how much it hurt when teeth slipped, but, God, if I didn’t moan louder each time Efrain used his. Our eyes locked as he bit, licked, teased. Between his skilled hands and mouth, and the sight of the man languidly working his own dick with his free hand, I felt like exploding. I wanted to come so bad, but I didn’t want this to end.

“I’m getting close,” I panted. “Dial it back some.”

Efrain looked up, my twitching dick between his teeth, and cocked his eyebrow. His free hand moved up between my legs, and I felt his tight grip on my raised thigh. Then, he attacked, working my hole harder with his fingers and keeping an almost constant pressure on my prostate. Suddenly weak-kneed from overstimulation, I threw out my hands to catch myself on the small inset shelves on either side, sending bottles and soap crashing. He pushed my thigh towards the wall and kept me from reflexively closing my legs to him, leaving me vulnerable to the onslaught.

I tilted my head back and braced my shoulders against the tile wall, thrusting my hips as best I could despite the almost bruising grip on my thigh overriding what little control over my legs I still had. Efrain had stilled his mouth on me, possibly to focus on finger-pounding me, but those limited thrusts were enough to keep up the sounds of him slurping and growling around my dick. I clenched my teeth, ragged breaths hissing between, feeling the throbbing coil tighter and tighter in my lower body. I was going to come, I swear, but couldn’t even gather enough of my wits, let alone enough air to breathe, so I could warn him. My climax was right there, so close that all I needed was a little push and I’d have it.

And then, Efrain just stopped. Pulled his mouth off me, slid his fingers free of my body, let go of my leg. Suddenly bereft of those supports, I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I moved my foot off the bench and slid to the ground with a whine.

Efrain moved up between my knees, kissing me and stroking my abs, which were still contracting from the force of my non-orgasm.

“That was fun to watch.”

“Fuck!” I whined again “Why did you stop? I was almost there.”

“I told you I had ways to make you cry.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You were trying really hard not to.” I had to concede that point. “Also, I’m not done yet and,” he tapped my still hard cock with his finger, making me gasp, “neither are you.”

“Please, ’Rain.”

He sat back and drew me onto his lap. “I’ve wanted you for too long, Cory,” he said before digging his fingers into my hair and tilting my head back for another bruising kiss. “I need to feel you come on my cock.” I watched as he unwrapped a condom and rolled it down his dick before adding lube.

Efrain lifted my hips and lined up his cock. He rubbed there, as he had with his fingers, distributing lubricant and relaxing my hole. The feel of his member against my tender and overstimulated flesh drew forth more shuddering moans and gasps.

Satisfied, Efrain positioned himself against my ass. “Ready?”

Suddenly unable to speak coherently, I simply nodded and braced my hands on his shoulders. He carefully eased me down on his cock. “That’s it, open up for me,” he murmured in my ear. I shivered and clenched around the thick member slowly stretching me open until he bottomed out. In all that time, my dick had yet to stop throbbing and my balls were still pulled up tight to my shaft--I still felt like I could blow at any minute. Efrain gave me some time to adjust to his length and girth, gently massaging where my ass held him with still lubed up fingers.

“You’re fucking tight,” he murmured. Arousal deepened his voice and his breathing was heavier--he was feeling this as much as I was and wasn’t trying to front about it. My ass spasmed around him and I whimpered. “I’m not hurting you?”

I shook my head. It hurt a little--it’d been a while since I’d had something in my ass and nothing as big as his cock--but the ache felt indescribably good.

His fingers teased my ass some more before he lifted my hips, sliding himself almost entirely out. He eased me back down in one slow, fluid thrust. I let out a moan that lasted from tip to base, and he repeated the move. He continued rolling me up and down the length of his dick until I picked up the smooth, easy rhythm he’d set for me.

“Good boy, take it just like that.”

I rode Efrain, feeling things getting tight inside of me. The sounds of our mingling gasps and moans made me bold. I wanted to pay him back for how much he’d made me squirm. I wanted him to feel me more. I thrust down hard, bringing out a clenched-jaw growl from Efrain. I made him squirm all right, but the angle thrust him over a sensitive spot in just the right way, and I ended up feeling it more than he did. I cried out, head thrown back, back arched, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That hurt you more than it hurt me, huh?” he chuckled between panting breaths. He dug his own fingers into my ass, spreading me apart. He wasn’t bothering with pretense. He was into what I was doing to him and not afraid to let me know.

“Keep moving,” he growled and drove my hips into a hard thrusting pace, moaning and murmuring in my ear about how sweet and tight my ass was and how much of a good boy I was for giving it up to him.

My continued cries accented his growled praises and the wet slapping of my ass hitting his hard thighs. As my climax mounted, the only way to let off the excess pressure was to scream louder and louder. My voice rose and echoed through the small room as I drove myself harder down his cock. He grabbed my dick and let the thrusting move his hand along the shaft. I almost cried at the feel of his hand and begged him to let me come this time. I heard him reminding me to breathe, but I was too far gone to heed him. I broke in waves, my come spilling over his hand, crying out until my voice gave out.

Efrain wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed me on still. He grabbed my shoulder between his teeth, the bite sinking into my skin as his own orgasm took him. The pain from the bite and the feel of Efrain’s spasms triggered aftershocks, and I clenched and shuddered around his throbbing dick. Even with how loud I’d been earlier, my voice still rose in octaves as I moaned, harmonizing with his grunts. I rocked my hips against him; my still twitching dick rubbed against the man’s abs. I couldn’t tell how long we fed off each other’s orgasms, prolonging the climax until we both wound down.

Lightheaded and breathless, I was barely able to move, but I managed to disentangle from Efrain and ease myself off. I sat next to him, knees drawn up, shivering despite the warm water pouring over me from two separate showerheads. My hips ached and my hole felt tender. The water stung where he had bitten me; most likely, he had broken the skin. I whimpered when a final aftershock hit.

“Holy fuck,” I whispered, my voice too raw and broken for anything else.

“God, that was fucking incredible.” Efrain shifted himself over to sit closer to me. He looked as shocked as I felt. He slipped his arm around my waist and let me rest my head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I agreed weakly and then passed the fuck out.

~*~*~*~

I woke up with a sore ass and a sore throat in a bed I didn’t recognize.

Efrain had taken care of me after he fucked me into oblivion. A bandage covered my shoulder. The contents of my pockets sat on the nightstand in front of me. Under them were the clothes he had pulled off me earlier. They smelled like fresh laundry.

The man himself lay next to me, curled up against my back, an arm flung over my waist holding me tight, his soft cock against my ass.

“Fuck, is it going to be like that every time?” he murmured, apparently noticing that I had woken up.

“God, I hope so.” I turned to him, getting a nibbling kiss for my efforts.

He grinned. “Although, I could do without having to drag your unconscious butt across the bathroom again.”

“I could do without the bite marks.” I chuckled. “If I grow fur, I’m coming for your ass.”

Efrain pulled me back against his chest and nuzzled into my neck with growl.

As we settled down to go back to rest, I realized that I rather liked being made to cry.

~*~*~*~