Instead, he just kept fucking. Pistoning feverishly, then slowing, only to fall back into heated thrusts.
Breck grabbed his dick, needing to come so bad. He started pumping. His nuts balled tighter. Pleasure burgeoned up his shaft. Deep in his ass. “Ungh, fuck—” He pumped faster. His body trembled. When his climax descended, he shouted into his pillow.
Ass clenching, hot cum punched from his cock.
Socrates gasped, his thrusts turning frantic. “Shit— Gonna shoot—” He slammed to the hilt, barely muffling his shout.
Across the room, Charlie merely snored louder.
Panting, Socrates laughed. “Chainsaw you—got over there—Good God.”
Breck laughed, too, as he shuddered. “Me and Jegs use earplugs.”
Socrates’ body shook. He was tamping more laughter. Which Breck understood, but the guy was still buried in his ass. Groaning, he clenched his cheeks.
Socrates grunted and pulled out. No lingering. No snuggles.
Good.
Breck wasn’t interested in that.
The brother was hot, but that was the only way Breck was drawn to him. Anything else after their exchange would just make things awkward.
Thankfully, and unsurprisingly, Socrates seemed to feel the same. He’d gotten what he wanted. To sate his curiosity. And scratch his itch.
Breck turned his head and watched him as he clumsily climbed off the bed. It had started to lighten outside so he could sort of see him.
Pulling up his shorts, Socrates looked at him and smiled. “Damn,” he whispered. “That was fun. Felt so much better than I expected.”
Breck smirked. “One-time deal, you asshole. No coming back for seconds.”
Socrates grinned and shoved Breck’s face into his pillow, then stumbled out the door.
Breck rolled onto his back. Stared at the ceiling. Shook his head.
He’d done it. He’d actually done it.
Experimented with a guy.
God… It’d felt incredible.
So totally different from having sex with a girl.
In ways that ensured he’d be feeling just how different for days.
His eyes slid closed.
He inhaled deeply.
And then a small smile curved his lips.
Son of a fucking bitch.
That. Was. Amazing.
— THREE —
TWO YEARS LATER
START OF SENIOR YEAR
——————
“Oh my God, I think I’m dying. Someone put me outta my misery.” Jegs looked pitifully at Breck. “You. You do it.”
Breck chuckled and shook his head—then groaned with a grimace. “Off your own damn self, man. I can’t move.”
Jegs scowled as he sat slouched on the couch with the rest of them, the TV room’s sectional sofa so big, it easily sat twelve. At the moment, it held eight, most of them deathly-hungover seniors. Breck, Jegs, and Charlie being three of them.
Breck’s head pounded. Goddamn, he’d drank way too much last night.
But yeah, what else was new? That was life in this frat house that he’d lived in since sophomore year.
In his and his roommates’ defense, though, the previous night’s celebration had been important. Initiation into the house for their sophomore members. Good times. In keeping with tradition, the newbies had dutifully waited on them, just as Breck and the other seniors had done way back when, at the start of their sophomore year, dressed in nothing but formal bow ties and boxer briefs.
He smirked, despite his headache. It’d been fun being waited on hand and foot. And that pedicure business at the end? That shit was awesome. He wiggled his toes as he sprawled on the couch. The sophomores had been responsible for cleaning up the place after, too. He’d been glad as hell to pass along that torch.
Of course, they’d passed along another bit of initiation fun last night, too. The infamous Kappa Theta Sigma prank. Yeah, it’d been dickish, but they were drunk and hadn’t cared. And in truth, the intel it’d gleaned had been pretty interesting. Seven out of twelve guys had chosen to brave it. Over half. Breck supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, his initiation’s numbers had been pretty similar.
Once the jig was up, though, he’d almost wished they hadn’t played it. Because for the rest of the night, his eyes kept straying to those seven. Lingering on them as memories returned of what transpired with him and Socrates. Were any of them curious like he’d been? He certainly wouldn’t mind helping out a few if they were.
It’d been a while since he’d been with a guy. Although he’d initially told Socrates their little romp was a one-time deal, they’d ended up fucking a couple more times that year. Once every few months or so, in the stretches between Socrates’ different girlfriends. When both guys were drunk with no honeys around. It just kind of kept happening. Once Breck even got to top. Evidently, Socrates had been ‘curious’ about bottoming, too.
Breck had liked topping. A lot. Slamming Socrates from behind—doggie-style the only position they ever used. But he also liked being a bottom. Maybe even more. After all, he always topped with chicks. And bottoming brought a completely different kind of pleasure. Mind-blowing and brutal. One that rocked him to his core. At initiation, Socrates had said he didn’t do gentle. He hadn’t been lying. Slow and easy just wasn’t his style.