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Pretty Boy

Category: Gay Male
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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember–that’s no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. “Metrosexual” was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me “gay” that I got frustrated. I’m not gay. Properly, I’m bi.

I’ll admit I’d never been with a guy before–kissed a few, but that was it. And I never liked people thinking I was into them, because the point was that, regardless of appearances, I didn’t HAVE to be gay.

I always thought people needed to open their minds–especially those macho loser jocks who think the epitome of masculinity is throwing a ball around, beating each other up, and making fun of gays.

I dunno. Football? The whole thing always seemed kind of homoerotic to me.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t understand why people–especially dudes–jumped to the conclusion that I was gay. I’ve always been in touch with my feminine side, and classy as fuck. An appreciation for fine clothing, superior hygiene, a decent hair and skin care routine–these are things that people seem to think are qualities of a homosexual male, when they really should be qualities of every human being as far as I’m concerned.

It was all the more frustrating, then, when I found out who I’d been paired with in my college dorm.

I was in my second year, pursuing a business degree. I hadn’t lived on campus my first year, but my parents were now insisting on it. Apparently they thought me a bit of a sponge, still living at home. I was mad, certainly, but after a while I could see their point. I supposed I had taken them for granted.

It was a difficult transition, moving myself to a comparatively tiny room, plus having to share it with some random dude. I was immensely grateful, at least, that I wouldn’t have to deal with communal bathrooms. Besides the revolting thought of the dubious level of hygiene resulting from masses of sweaty, sloppy young men sharing shower and toilet facilities, I cherish my self-care routines, and I wasn’t interested in putting them on display. I’m not sure other guys would have been interested in display either–I had that “gay vibe”, and when I was around dudes in any state of undress, they were hypersensitive to being observed. I could certainly appreciate a well-formed male body, but I was as hypersensitive as they were, knowing if I was caught looking, they’d think it proof that I was gay. In high school locker rooms, I kept my eyes on my own business and did my utmost to suggest to them I was straight by my complete disinterest.

Thank God I was long finished with high school gym classes. Now I was a college man, and I only had to share a bathroom with one roommate.

Our cramped dorm was fairly cleverly designed to make the best use of the limited space. The beds were loft beds, with small but serviceable desks beneath. There were bureaus, a few shelves, and a shared closet. Whoever my roommate was, he was already moved in. He seemed to have been living here a while already. He was obviously an athlete, and a complete slob. While his stuff took up only fifty percent of the room, he had made that fifty percent an eyesore. Sports shit, clothes everywhere, papers, food wrappers, empty Powerade bottles, et cetera.

His clothes also took up squarely fifty percent of our shared closet, but I hated to even put my clothes in the same physical space as his… it was hard to call them clothes at all. I realized as I unpacked that I was going to need more than half of that closet space. My shirts and trousers were expensive and needed to be hung up–the idea of cramming any of them into drawers was unfathomable. He seemed to mainly have grotty, well-worn t-shirts.

The man himself finally wandered in, clad in sweatpants and a tee sporting our school’s logo, and looking and smelling like he’d just had a run.

“Hey,” he muttered, glancing over me with an irritated expression.

“Hello,” I replied, glaring back at him appraisingly. He looked like a real bruiser, thick and broad-shouldered–I guessed correctly that he was a football player. He had blue eyes, and his head was shaved, but by his eyebrows I figured he was an ash blonde. Speaking of eyebrows, his badly needed to be plucked and shaped.

I must have been showing my distaste–his mouth twisted, and he turned his back to me, rummaging in one of his drawers.

“So, you’re my roommate,” I ventured when he did not speak to me further.

He turned and squinted at me. “Yeah…” he said slowly, as if it should have been the most obvious fact in the world.

I frowned at his rudeness, and decided to be the bigger man, though physically he was the size of approximately three of me. “I’m Markus,” I said, moving to the midpoint of the room and extending a hand. “Markus Van Aken.”

He looked at my hand, and then at me. He snorted briefly and finally took my hand, giving it one brief pump with his warm, sweaty paw before pulling back. “Greg,” he replied, and went back to his drawer.

I minded my own business while he changed out of his exercise clothes and into a plain white undershirt and a pair of flannel shorts.

“So… Greg,” I finally ventured. “Are there any little ‘house rules’ for our dorm?”

He vaulted up onto his bed and flopped back, fiddling with his phone. “I dunno. Don’t be an ass?”

“Hmm,” I murmured, carefully putting my shirts on hangers and trying to puzzle out how to hang them all in this tiny half-closet space. “Question. Do you think you need all these clothes hung up? They mostly look like they could be folded and put in drawers. I have a lot of things that really need to be on hangers, and I need some extra space.”

Greg snorted. “Sorry, slick. Half that closet’s mine and I’m using it.”

I pursed my lips, but made no reply. It was hard to argue that, but I wished he’d listen to my logic. I resigned myself to making do, and found a way to hang some things beneath my loft bed.

I glanced at him periodically while I set up my living area. He mostly had his attention on his phone, but from time to time he’d watch me through narrowed eyes as if I were some kind of strange insect.

I could practically feel him forming assumptions about me.

“So, what about girls?” I piped up, seeing a perfect opportunity to assert my masculinity.

“Girls?” He eyed me, smirking, and snorted.

There it was. Obviously he’d pegged me as gay. I squared my shoulders. “Yes–you know, the opposite sex? The ones with breasts? Ever had one?”

He snorted again, this time looking a little less amused. “You are some piece of work,” he muttered, turning back to his phone.

I felt slightly chastened, but kept up my dignity. “So… seriously. If one of us has a girl over, and things get… intimate… do we do the tie-on-the-doorknob thing or what?”

“Tie on the doorknob–are you from the seventies?” he snickered. “No one does that.”

I was going to remark that I suspected he didn’t own any ties regardless, but kept my mouth shut.

“I don’t tend to bring my one-night stands here, so don’t worry about me,” he continued. “If you feel a pressing need to get laid in your little dorm bunk bed, just send me a text and latch the door. I’ll find someplace to couch surf.”

“All right,” I agreed, and we proceeded to exchange cell numbers.

I didn’t like Greg. He seemed determined to make me out to be a moron at every turn. I was just as determined not to let him succeed.

He snored. I had a difficult time falling asleep the first night. I awoke by six and he was still sawing logs. I groaned and nearly fell out of my loft bed trying to climb down. I gathered up an armful of supplies and stumbled to the bathroom.

Getting myself ready for a day was always a production, and it was a unique challenge completing my usual ablutions in this tiny, shared bathroom. I was accustomed to having a spacious bathroom all to myself. There was hardly any counter space–I wouldn’t even be able to store all the products I used on a daily basis in here unless I could use the whole space. The only things Greg kept next to the sink were a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, and shaving cream, so I shifted them aside. I had to clean the countertop and sink thoroughly before spreading out my stuff. It had been spattered with old soap scum, toothpaste, and God only knew what else.

I glanced into the shower stall and grimaced. It, too, did not look well cared for. Well, I wasn’t going to spend all my time here cleaning up after my slovenly roommate. I dug up a pair of flip-flops and wore them while I showered. I could at least protect myself from someone else’s filth.

I was halfway through moisturizing when Greg began to pound on the door.

“Time’s up!” he bellowed.

I tensed with discomfort. Being interrupted in the bathroom was extremely distasteful, and I felt it rather rude on my roommate’s part.

“I’m not finished yet,” I called back. “Give me ten more minutes.”

“You’ve been in there for nearly an hour! What the fuck is taking so long?”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been–you were still asleep when I got up!” I protested.

“I was awake when you came and got your little sandals. You a germophobe or what?”

“No, I just don’t appreciate being exposed to this level of squalor!” I sighed grievously. “Do you ever clean anything in here?”

He pounded on the door again, making it rattle.

“Stop that, please!” I snapped.

“Hurry… the fuck… up!”

Greg was ruining my morning routine, and now I was tense and upset. My personal care and grooming rituals were important to my well-being. This was intolerable. And yet… I would have to resign myself to it. This was going to be the reality of sharing a space, I realized. It was not my bathroom; it was our bathroom. Paring a bit of time off of my morning routine would have to be one of a thousand small sacrifices I was going to have to make in order to live in this shared dorm.

I wrapped a towel around myself, balled up my PJs with my boxers and moisturizer bottle, and tucked the bundle under my arm. I could finish outside the bathroom, I supposed. Reluctantly I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Greg stood there like a bouncer with his arms propped against the jamb, blocking the doorway. He looked me up and down and suddenly burst out in obnoxious, braying laughter.

“Problem?” I wondered, putting on my most unamused face.

“You wear your towel like a girl!” he snorted. “Gotta protect those sweet little titties, huh?” He poked me in the nipple through the towel, and I jerked back.

“I’d rather you didn’t touch me.”

He snorted again and twisted his face into a mock expression of remorse. “Aww, sowwy pwincess!”

I looked down at myself, cheeks burning. I’d never thought about the way I wore my towel–I’d get too chilly if I didn’t wear it up around my chest. I furrowed my brow and looked back up at him. “You going to move? I thought you wanted me out.” I had a wicked thought and continued sardonically, “Or were you wanting to join me in here? I mean, I know I’m uncommonly pretty, but you’re not exactly my type.” I smiled smugly, figuring if a dumb jock could dish out the gay jokes, so could I.

“Ow, my feelings!” he quipped, briefly miming a fake cry before invading my personal space just long enough to get himself through the doorway and then turning aside to allow me to leave. However, I could take no more than a step before his hand had seized my bare shoulder to stop me.

“What?” I exclaimed. “I asked you not to touch me!”

“What’s all this shit?” he demanded, turning me toward the sink and pointing at my arrangement of products.

I shrugged him off. “Not all of us are content to just roll out of bed and go, Greg. This look doesn’t happen by accident.” I raised my hands to form a frame around my face, unapologetically.

He rolled his eyes. “Look… Mark… this isn’t rocket surgery. You get fifty percent of all common areas–no more. Move your shit.”

“It’s ‘Markus’, please,” I corrected. “Never ‘Mark’. And I’m going to ask you to lay off. We obviously have different needs, and we’re both going to have to respect that. You were using less than a quarter of the counter space, so I don’t think it’s unfair of me to commandeer space you’re not using anyway.”

He shifted his broad, square jaw, glaring down at me. “You think wrong. You get half, princess. I don’t give a flying fuck if you think my half is wasted. It’s still my half. And I don’t want any of your makeup and shit on it.”

“It’s not makeup!” I exclaimed, exasperated, grabbing my moisturizer bottle and shoving it in his face. “Ever hear of personal grooming?”

“I’m a man, not a fucking poodle,” he snarled back, swatting my arm aside. “I don’t care what this shit is–MOVE IT!”

I flinched at his forcefulness. Whether or not he was right, I felt horribly disrespected. He was using his bulk to intimidate me, and it simply wasn’t right. Regardless, I put my proverbial tail between my legs and selected a number of bottles and jars I could stand to keep in my bureau instead of the bathroom, and carefully moved what remained to one side of the sink while Greg stood glaring at me. Clutching my armful of stuff, I stuck my chin in the air and glared back at him.

“You’re a bully,” I said simply.

“You smell like a fucking meadow,” he retorted.

“If only you did!” I made a disgusted face and mimed gagging before departing the bathroom, my flip-flops absurdly making their iconic flipping, flopping noises as I went.

He snorted once before slamming the door shut, and moments later I heard him peeing like a racehorse.

“Neanderthal,” I muttered.

We fell into a grudging routine over the next few days. We took the trouble to learn each other’s schedules so that neither of us was bound to be hogging the bathroom at inopportune times. I will admit I still took more than my fair share, and the arguments only grew worse. I usually went away feeling an uncomfortable mixture of smug self-satisfaction and guilt. It was hard to admit, but Greg brought out my most immature side, and… yes, my insecurity. He had an effortless, sharp-tongued way of poking straight at all my faults, and I felt consistently unsettled. It became a vicious cycle, as the more unsettled I felt, the more determined I became to prove myself.

A girl entered the picture, which inevitably amplified all this. She wasn’t any girl of mine, but Greg’s. I came back from a late class one night and found them both sitting curled up on his bed, cozily shoulder-to-shoulder. They were talking very quietly, and stopped when I entered.

“Oh, hey–so you’re Markus-never-Mark.” She smirked at me while Greg looked in the other direction, looking grumpy.

I had to fight to keep from showing my chagrin at the way Greg had obviously been complaining about me to his girl. She was achingly beautiful, with bronze skin; dark, almond-shaped eyes; and very curly black hair gathered into a spectacular poof of a ponytail. Fabulous hair–I would have liked to join her in the shower and wash it for her. I wanted her immediately, perhaps especially so because Greg had her. “Markus is fine,” I replied in good humour, managing one of my most charming smiles.

“I’m Rana,” she replied, hopping gracefully down off of Greg’s bed. Her breasts bounced enticingly beneath a snug cotton top, and her floral skirt swirled around her thighs. She offered a hand to me politely, and I shook it, giving her a light squeeze.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said. “You’re a… friend of Greg’s?” I smiled continually, slipping my hands into my pockets in a deliberate show of casualness.

“Yes, I am indeed a friend of Greg’s,” she replied, eyes glinting playfully. “We were just… calling it a night, though.”

“Ohh, are you sure?” My gaze passed from hers to Greg’s; I smirked and adjusted an invisible tie. “I could go somewhere else if you wanted some privacy.”

“That’s sweet, but really, I have to run,” Rana chuckled, squeezing my shoulder briefly. “Got a paper to work on.”

She turned to smile widely at Greg, and he jumped down, ignoring me completely as he walked her the brief distance to the door. I pretended to look at a textbook, but watched surreptitiously as they hugged each other tightly, and whispered back and forth.

“So,” I said once she was gone and he’d hefted his bulk back into bed. “She’s stunning.”

“I don’t need your opinion.”

“Retract your claws, Gregory,” I chuckled, lowering myself into my desk chair and crossing my legs neatly. “It was a compliment.”

“To who?”

“Both of you, I guess!”

“I’m not responsible for her being stunning. If you were implying she’s my girlfriend, you’d be wrong.”

“Oh? She seems fond of you.” I continued to grin at him.

“Yeah, she is. That doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship.”

“Well, isn’t that nice for you!” I retorted sarcastically. I crossed my arms. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then I suppose you wouldn’t mind me asking her out.”

He released a harsh, irritated sigh. It took him several moments to respond. “You’re welcome to try, pretty boy, but trust me, she wouldn’t bite.”

“She, uh… into the ladies then?” I kept up my grin.

“Fuck!” he burst out, rolling to face me with furious eyes and flushed cheeks. “You’re such a douche! You think any girl who might not be into you must be gay? Fuck–seriously! The only thing worse than having an ego the size of a planet is combining that ego with complete and utter ignorance! I am so fucking done!”

I let out a long breath. “Whew… someone really does need to get laid,” I muttered, regretting my words even as they fell from my lips. It was a reflex, and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t exactly disproving myself a douche.

I felt the floor tremble as he leaped down off of his bed. He barrelled across the room like The Hulk and grabbed me by the shirt, pushing until my chair slammed back against the wall. He got right in my face, snarling.

“What is my one rule?!” he roared. “Don’t be an ass! DON’T BE AN ASS, Markus!”

I blanched, breathing rapidly like a little mouse caught under a cat’s paw. Would he hit me? Would he actually hurt me? I didn’t want my face bruised, but if he did hit me, he’d at least prove himself a hypocrite, which would give me some satisfaction. “Look at yourself right now,” I whispered, trying to make steady eye contact with him, though my breath trembled a little. “Who exactly is being an ass?”

He gritted his teeth, continuing to glare furiously at me for a short time, his blue eyes shining and frigid. His cheeks only reddened further as he sucked in deep breaths and let them out in angry huffs. Finally he let go of my shirt and spun away, leaning hard against the nearest wall to catch his breath.

I said nothing further as he struggled to calm himself, deciding I was done poking the bear for tonight. I adjusted my chair and took a deep breath, and he shot me another glare as if even these small noises were infuriating to him. He abruptly stripped off his shirt, pulled on another, and plunged his gigantic feet into a pair of hideous, old runners. “I need some air!” he spat, and departed, slamming the door behind him.

We spoke minimally for the next couple of weeks, and Rana continued to be a regular presence. Often when I came back from a day of classes or a party or pub night, she would be in our dorm, the two of them perched on his bed or scrunched up in chairs side by side. Whatever they were up to, they always stopped the moment I walked in.

I bumped into her in the pub one night, and she happily joined me for a drink. I was pleased to have her all to myself for once, without Greg’s influence. I certainly felt more at ease, and more myself without him around.

We chatted pleasantly about this and that–classes, clothes, the news. She remarked on the softness of my hands, which pleased me immensely, and we talked moisturizers for a few minutes.

“Greg should moisturize,” Rana giggled. “His hands are like sandpaper.”

I joined her in laughter, though I felt an uncomfortable little pang at the suggestion that she had been getting cozy with Greg’s hands. Greg had consistently denied my implications that they were “together”, but he had also told me he wasn’t likely to have sex in our dorm. He might have been with her in hers, and just not told me. “I’ll bet,” I finally replied. “That’s why I take such good care of myself. Not many people want sandpaper on their sensitive bits.” I winked.

She raised both of her elegant eyebrows. “Oh, are you implying Greg’s hands have been anywhere near my ‘sensitive bits’?” She smirked.

I shrugged innocently. “You do seem… fond of each other.”

“We are. We’re very good friends, Markus. That’s all.”

I cocked my head. “Has he never… asked you out? Or vice versa?”

She smiled distantly and contemplated how to respond. Finally, she leaned over the table to get closer to me so that she could make herself heard over the din without having to yell. “I like him. But he’s… well, he’s in a really complicated place right now.”

I followed her lead and leaned close to her, sensing some intimate secrets that I might be able to get a piece of. “He’s had some… problems, or what?” I wondered. “I mean, he seems to have a pretty short fuse.”

Her smile turned apologetic. “I can’t really say anything more. I know he’s… rough around the edges, but… yunno, some people find that attractive.”

I studied her for a few moments. “Do you prefer rough, Rana… or soft?” I placed my hand over hers.

Her cheeks darkened a little. Her eyes lowered, and she bit down on one lusciously red lip. “Oh… you are cute… princess,” she chuckled somewhat awkwardly, placing her opposite hand over mine.

Now it was my turn to flush. “I swear to God, I’m not nearly as much of a douche as Greg probably makes me out to be. He brings out my absolute worst side–I wish it weren’t so!”

She laughed, sounding surer this time. “Has it occurred to you that you do the same to him?”

I shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

She patted my hand, and then pulled hers back, placing them both around her drink. “You know… Greg’s actually a really neat guy. I wish you two didn’t clash so much.”

I folded my hands, a little disappointed and, I suppose, a touch embarrassed. I’d taken a chance, and I was pretty sure I’d just been brushed off. I sighed, not exactly wanting to keep talking about my roommate. “Maybe I’d find him a bit easier to put up with if he took a little better care of his living space, and himself… and a new wardrobe would help. All those sweats and shabby runners–ugh!”

She laughed merrily. “Sure, he’d look fab in a nice suit and patent leather shoes, but we can’t all afford designer clothes and top-of-the-line moisturizers.” She smiled and leaned forward again. “Pretty boy.”

I smirked and lowered my gaze. “You must think I’m horribly spoiled.”

“Are you spoiled?”

I sighed again. I felt a little on the spot, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it might have been. Rana wasn’t just a pretty face–she was very easy to talk to, and I certainly understood why Greg liked spending time with her. “Yes,” I admitted. “I’m spoiled. I’ll admit it. Rich parents, only child, trust fund. I guess it’s hard for me to see things the way most people do. I don’t want to be an ignorant douche, but I only know one way of life. My parents very abruptly decided to pull the rug out from under me recently after giving me everything my whole life, and… it’s been a struggle to adjust.” I smiled weakly. It felt good to vent, and I hadn’t really been able to put things in perspective until now.

Rana nodded slowly. “I see. Markus… no one wants to give the poor little rich boy any sympathy when most of us have to work our butts off for every little thing… but it’s true you didn’t earn that silver spoon upbringing anymore than, say, Greg earned his… less privileged upbringing. Suddenly being turned out on your ass by your folks must have been a rude awakening–I can understand that. You’re allowed to struggle to adjust.” She touched my hand briefly, and then gripped her glass again. “It doesn’t mean I’m gonna feel sorry for you, though.” She laughed lyrically.

“That’s… fair,” I replied, joining her in a laugh and feeling a little more at ease. “So… Greg. He doesn’t have a job as far as I know. Does he work summers to put himself through school, or what?”

“No, he doesn’t take summer breaks. And his program’s too intensive to let anyone work even part-time.”

“So… scholarship?” I guessed.

Rana nodded. “It’s not what you think, though.” She grinned widely.

“Oh? What do I think?” I sat back in my chair, smiling playfully.

“You think football, don’t you?”

I nodded, and she shook her head.

“Academic,” she corrected.

I raised my eyebrows. “What program is he in? I’ve never talked to him about classes.”

“Aerospace Engineering.”

I gaped at her, once more leaning forward on the table. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope,” she giggled. “Seriously. Greg’s brilliant. He only plays football for shits and giggles. And to blow off steam.”

I scrunched up my face, trying to process this. I knew the Engineering programs were incredibly competitive. He certainly would have had to be brilliant to not only qualify, but also to get by on an academic scholarship, not to mention sustaining extracurriculars like sports all the while. “Damn,” I finally murmured. I was the bigger ass–there was no way around it. My trust fund was paying my tuition, I’d never had to work, and I was taking business courses mainly with the ambition of getting a job wherein I could wear a suit every day. On top of all of this, I’d been snippy with Greg for making assumptions about me when I’d blithely dismissed him as a dumb jock. “Damn. I am a douche. I’m an enormous douche.”

Rana smiled with heartbreaking kindness. “Yup. But a discerning eye can see you have a lot of potential nonetheless.”

I gave her a great big hug when we parted ways, and she squeezed me tightly.

“You smell really nice,” I remarked.

“So do you, pretty boy,” she replied, and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek before giggling and striding off to her building.

My thoughts were whirling as I returned to my dorm. I couldn’t make sense of anything. I opened the door and shut it gently behind me. I could hear Greg typing away at his laptop as I walked in slowly. It was warm, and the air seemed to be thrumming with strange electricity. Or maybe it was just me? I looked down at my hands, and my fingers were trembling. Something about my talk with Rana had turned me completely upside down.

Was I in love? Was I in love with Rana? I liked her a lot–a hell of a lot–but she almost seemed untouchable, as if she were on another plane of existence.

“What’d you do, kill someone?” Greg asked suddenly.

I looked up with surprise. He was glaring at me with a cocked eyebrow. I realized I’d been standing there for some time in the middle of our room, just staring at my hands with a stricken expression. I shook my head and laughed awkwardly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Rana… I really like her,” I blurted out.

He narrowed his eyes.

I nodded my chin vaguely in the direction of the pub. “Just had drinks with her.”

He snorted a breath out through his nose like an angry bull.

I shrugged helplessly. “Don’t be upset. I know you like her, okay? But it’s fine. You were right–I don’t think she’d go out with me. We’re all just… friends.”

He swallowed with an audible click. “So,” he said hoarsely. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you, smart guy?”

I shrugged again, uncomfortable.

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? Couldn’t find your own friends? Just had to badger and cajole MINE?”

“It’s not like that,” I sighed. “Chill, okay?”

He clearly did not appreciate being told to “chill”. Something else, though, seemed to strike him suddenly, and his eyes widened. He jumped up out of his chair and barrelled over to me. I yelped a little as he grabbed me by the shirt with one hand and took me by the chin with the other, turning my head aside.

“Is that lipstick?!” he demanded.

I blushed. “She… gave me a little kiss. Just a little one.”

He pushed me hard up against the wall. “What did you do? What the fuck did you do to bait her?”

“I didn’t!” I gasped, squirming. “I didn’t do anything–we just talked! She likes me! I don’t know. Gah, you bastard–let go of me right now!”

He yanked me by my shirt, and then slammed me against the wall once more, growling incoherently. His face was pale, but with two very bright spots of red in his cheeks.

“Ow!” I grunted. He was driving me to the brink, and I could feel my inner douche rising up again despite myself. “Stop it–I mean it! You’re ruining my shirt. This is organic cotton, loser! It’s expensive, and I doubt you could afford to replace it!”

“Fuck… you!” he hollered, slamming me twice more against the wall to punctuate each word. His voice was cracking. “Fuck you and your pretentious shirt!”

“Fuck you and your disgusting thrift shop wardrobe!” I screamed back at him, pulling at his wrists and trying to extricate him from my shirt with no success. “Fuck your garbage and your filth and your football muscles and your stupid Neanderthal face!”

He hit me. Oddly, it was an open-handed slap across my cheek, like a girl might have given in response to an obscene pickup line. The sharp sound of it seemed to bounce and linger in the small room, and for a while one side of my face just felt numb. We both stood still and gasped for breath.

“I deserved that,” I admitted hoarsely.

“Yeah,” he agreed with chilling calm. He still held my shirt in one hand, though I thought I could pull away this time if I really tried.

“Please let go,” I whispered.

“No,” he whispered back, shaking his head slowly, and then faster. He took a deep breath. “Why… why did she kiss you? Tell me, damn you!”

I gritted my teeth, becoming fed up with his jealousy. “No fucking way,” I snapped. “I’m not telling you anything if this is the way you’re gonna treat me. I can kiss anyone I like, you big stupid stinking gorilla, and it’s none of your business!”

His breath was coming in short gasps, and his cheeks were nearly purple. I realized finally that his eyes were shining, and damp around the edges. He pulled his hand back again, sharply, and I flinched, expecting another slap. It didn’t come. He yanked me forward by my shirt and then shoved me once more, letting go this time as I slammed against the wall. I stumbled and clumsily fell. From my prone position, I could see his enormous feet stepping into his dirty running shoes.

“I need some air,” he said huskily.

“No–no you don’t!” I cried in sudden alarm, pushing myself up off the ground. I’d clued in finally that he was really and truly upset, and I felt panicked about having caused it. I stepped in front of him before he could reach the door and pushed on his broad chest.

“Get outta my fucking way, princess, before I mess up that pretty face of yours with my big stupid ape fists,” he hissed, turning his gaze away from mine.

“No,” I insisted, pushing harder. “You’re not going to do that. You’re upset, and you’re going to stay here and calm down and talk to me like a human being.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he snapped, taking hold of my forearms and wrenching them away from his chest. “Believe me–you don’t want to be around when I’m really upset.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. You don’t.”

I scowled at him, struggling in his grip. I hated his macho routine, and I hated his denial. “You’re not seriously giving me the ‘You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry’ line, are you? Give me a break!”

“I didn’t say ‘angry’!”

I smiled evilly. “What then? You gonna cry? You gonna cry over your girl, you big dumb caveman?”

He bared his teeth and once more shoved me against the wall. “You idiot!” he screamed, his eyes now welling up dangerously. “You un-fucking-believable MORON!”

I took several deep, rapid breaths, feeling an intense burning in my cheeks. I hated him, and I hated myself even more. I wasn’t sure whether to spit in his face or apologize, but I was immobile, and he was huffing like an angry dragon ready to spit fire. He gripped me by the chin again, and I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut. I was expecting something painful, but instead there was a hot press of soft lips against mine.

I went limp out of pure shock and felt his tongue invade my mouth, searching aggressively. His hard body kept me pinned tightly against the wall. Something inside me seemed to burst asunder, and I was once more seized with that sensation of warm, tremulous electricity that I’d suspected was the feeling of falling in love, but this time it was heightened by a factor of at least ten. I whimpered, and as he released his grip on me, I wrapped my arms around his broad, firm torso and returned the kiss with a sense of desperate panic that came out of nowhere.

His kiss. I had never been kissed like this. It was as if he was possessing me. I needed him instantly. My fingernails scraped at his back.

He pulled me, and slammed me back again with his chest. We collided breathlessly. He widened his stance to lower himself to my level and squeezed me tightly against the wall. We kissed, sucked, licked, bit. We feasted on each other.

We finally came up for air and stared at each other with some astonishment. His shining blue eyes welled over with two large tears.

“Fuck your… stupid… pretty face,” he whispered, reaching up to quickly whisk those tears away.

I ran the tip of my tongue curiously over my lips, as if to confirm they were still there. So many things now seemed to make a bizarre sort of sense. I stared at him in wonderment.

“I’m so… sorry,” I mumbled weakly.

He pulled away abruptly, with a pained look on his face. “Don’t. Seriously.”

I threw my hands up, at a loss. “I… I mean it though. I’ve been such an unbelievable dick. I… didn’t realize…. What can I do? Just tell me what to say.”

“Stop!” he snapped, holding up a hand and turning his back on me. He scrubbed at his face with empty hands, groaning.

“Gah!” I burst out, turning and pounding a fist against the wall. Despite the hard-on that had sprung up in my pants so suddenly, he was somehow more frustrating than ever. “Fuck, Greg! You’re so…. UGH! You’re impossible!”

He half-turned back to me, studying me through narrowed eyes.

I blinked at him, the proverbial gears in my head seeming now to turn at a brisk pace. “Neanderthal!” I blurted out.

“Diva,” he snarled back.

The lightbulb went on. I had it–I had him then. He had to be angry with me. He wanted me to drive him crazy. “Fuck you!” I snarled. “You’re disgusting! Do you even eat anything but Doritos and Powerade?” I made a show of wiping off my mouth.

His eyes blazed. He faced me directly. There was a huge, unmistakable bulge in his sweatpants. “Right… I’m sure your folks gave you Dom Perignon in your sippy cup, yeah? Bet mommy made you pheasant nuggets when the rest of us were chowing down on McDonald’s. Pompous little snotbag!”

“I see your lips moving, but all I hear is grunting!” I shot back. “Filthy ape!”

He tore his shirt off and tossed it in the middle of the floor. His musculature was well defined, even beneath a fairly dense cover of tawny chest hair. “Princess.”

“Pick that up, you slob–it’s on my side.”

“Make me!” He took a step toward me. There was the barest hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

My heart was hammering against my ribcage. “Come over here and I will.”

He covered the distance between us in a flash, and once again collided with me, slamming me up against the side of my bureau with his bare chest. The bureau rocked briefly, and a few of my sundries rolled onto the floor. He gripped both sides of my face and kissed me deeply. “Fuck you,” he whispered against my lips, “and all your stupid makeup.”

“It’s not makeup,” I huffed, pushing against him and kissing him several times fast. “This look takes effort. You’ve never spent more than thirty seconds on your appearance. Fuck you and your razor stubble and your bargain basement deodorant.”

He gripped the back of my head and kissed me hard. “Fuck your queer emo hairdo and your stupid celebrity-endorsed conditioner and your… your dry-clean-only designer shirts!”

We kissed hungrily. I ran my hands up his bare back, feeling tingles travel up my fingers and all through my body. “Fuck your football muscles and your… huge feet.”

He collided with me again, beginning to smile in earnest. More things fell off my bureau. He nuzzled against my cheek, and then my neck, inhaling the scent of me. He nipped at my earlobe. “Fuck your girly soft skin,” he breathed, “and your skinny little bod. I could break you in half.”

I groaned and clamped my arms around him. “I could break your heart.”

“You have already, pretty boy. You break my idiot heart every fucking moment.”

I was lost for words as he yanked on my arms suddenly and bent double, barrelling into me as if in a football tackle. I grunted, and he straightened, tossing me over his shoulder. His physical power took my breath away. I was barely aware of how he managed it, but I found myself tossed like a ragdoll onto his loft bed. He might as well have been King Kong, taking me in his monstrous fist and carrying me up his tower. Then, he was on top of me. His barrel chest pressed me down into the mattress, and his huge, rock-hard cock, still trapped beneath his sweatpants, collided with my own bulge. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. My entire body thrummed like a taut bowstring. I felt like I would cum all over my underpants if he bucked against me a few more times.

Greg kissed me aggressively, and then glared down at me expectantly, smirking. “Let’s see whatcha got, brat.”

“Not in your bed–I bet you never change your sheets,” I panted. “I don’t want to lie in your filth.”

“Yes you do,” he challenged, licking my face and neck with a few broad, sloppy strokes. “Mmm… fuck your deliciousness.”

“Fuck your hot, sweet tongue!” I groaned.

He plunged his tongue into my mouth, nearly choking me. I wrapped my legs around him, keeping him tight against me. I could barely breathe, and it was bliss.

He pulled away with a wet smack, and then leaned down again, kissing me softly now, with aching tenderness. “Fuck your beautiful eyes.”

I sighed dreamily. He began to pull my shirt up, and I wriggled around to help him. “Careful,” I whispered.

“Sowwy, Pwincess,” he teased, grinning. “Am I being soooo mean to your precious, priceless organic cotton?”

“You musclebrains have no class! Someone needs to take you shopping.”

He balled up my shirt and tossed it vengefully over the side of the bed. “Bite your tongue!”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he bit it, growling playfully. He kissed down my neck, and across my collarbone. He kissed down my sternum, and abruptly laughed.

“What?!” I demanded, my voice quivering slightly.

“You have, like… three chest hairs. Look at you! You’re so smooth!” He nuzzled my chest, and suddenly blew a raspberry on my stomach.

“Gah!” I yelped, and burst into giggles, writhing beneath him. “Not all of us are so closely related to Australopithecus, monkey man!”

Greg blew another raspberry, this time below my navel, and I writhed again, my giggles turning to gasps. He unbuttoned my pants. His eyes flicked up to mine. I gazed down at him as he slowly unzipped my fly. He gave me a long, lingering, sincere look.

“I hope what you’ve got down here isn’t nearly as pre-pubescent as the upper half,” he whispered.

I furrowed my brow and kicked him sharply in the butt with my heel. He bared his teeth at me and dove back up the bed, grabbing me by the throat and kissing me passionately until we were both breathless.

“Get back to what you were doing,” I panted. “You were well on your way to discovering the epitome of my virile manliness.”

“Don’t you give me orders, you little snot,” he hissed. “The world doesn’t exist to serve your whims!”

“But you do,” I retorted brazenly. “It’s all you’re good for. Take my cock out, you big dumb man-whore!”

He bit my cheek firmly, and I cried out at the burst of bright pleasure-pain. My cock throbbed.

“Ass!” I blurted out.

“You insulting me, or telling me what you want?” he asked in a low chuckle.

I reached around and grabbed both his lower cheeks, round and very firm beneath his sweatpants. “Insulting you,” I replied as I squeezed his muscular butt. “You better not leave marks on me.”

“I’ll mark you if I want to mark you,” he snorted, nipping at my neck, collarbone, and nipples. “You’re begging for it. It’s even your name. Markus, Markus! Well, fine. Would you rather be bitten and bruised, or peed on? I’m game for the latter, but then I really would have to change my sheets.”

“Ew!” I exclaimed, smacking his ass with both hands, hard.

He laughed boorishly and moved further down so I couldn’t reach his behind anymore. He finally started sliding my pants off, and I shifted to help him out. Soon they had been tossed off the bed to join my shirt. Greg grabbed hold of the elastic waistband of my boxers and stretched it out to its limit. My hard cock strained upward. I waited for him to start pulling my underpants down, but instead he abruptly let go, and the elastic snapped back painfully.

“Fuck!” I yelped, kicking him wherever I could reach.

He laughed more still, grabbing my legs and forcibly pinning my ankles together. I tried to wriggle from his grasp, but damn, he was strong. He gripped my ankles with one hand, forced them up into the air, and reached down with his other hand to grasp the back of my boxers and pull.

“Hey!” I snapped, craning my head around to see him past my inclined legs. “This is truly unsexy! This is not how you take off a guy’s underwear–you’re doing it as if you’re changing a fucking diaper!”

He leaned aside to make eye contact. “Maybe if you weren’t being such a baby…” he retorted, smacking my ass. “Wah, wah, wah–you’re wrecking my shirt; I don’t like your bed; don’t bite me so hard; that’s not how you strip me! You should be in diapers.”

“Yeah? You’re the only one I’ve seen crying today!” I shot back.

He stilled, staring at me thoughtfully.

Oops. Too far? I bit down on my lip. Both my ankles were now resting on one of his shoulders.

“If you think that’s supposed to insult me,” he said slowly, “maybe you need to reevaluate your idea of what makes a man. Do I cry? Sure, sometimes. Am I ashamed? No fucking way. The only thing to be ashamed of is being a whiner like you.”

I swallowed. This was getting pretty real. “Why’d you cry, Greg?” I whispered, feeling small and very vulnerable as I lay almost naked beneath him. Uncovering emotions was even more intense than uncovering skin. Maybe too intense. I could feel my hands shaking again.

He took a deep breath, and sighed forcefully. Getting serious seemed to drain some of the heat out of him. “Because…” he mused, slinging an arm around my thighs. “Because, I realized I was going to have to have sex with the most annoying guy on campus. Who wouldn’t cry?”

After a few strange moments, I laughed. It was impossible not to. “You’ve got it all wrong, you big lug. Every time you beat off you’re having sex with the most annoying guy on campus.”

He dropped my legs and dove down, blowing a noisy raspberry on my lower belly. I laughed hysterically. “Fuck off!” I screamed, swatting at him frantically. I was keen to heat him back up to the full force of his fire. “That’s not how you give a blowjob! Moron!”

He grappled my arms and tried to pin me down. I fought him like a badger, but my spirit was no match for his strength. He caught both of my slender wrists, clamping them together in the meaty grip of one of his enormous hands while his lower half pinned down my legs. He held my hands above my head as he pinched and gnawed on my nipples until I was howling. It hurt like hell, but turned me on even more.

I’d forgotten how thin the walls were in these dorms–someone in the next room started pounding noisily against the wall and shouting at us to shut up.

Greg let go of my hands and took his own turn at pounding on the wall. I was almost surprised he didn’t punch right through it.

“I’m trying to get laid in here!” he roared.

I stared up at him dumbly, almost as astonished as I’d been when he’d kissed me. We knew our neighbours by name. Either they would think we were pulling a prank on them, or this–whatever it was–wouldn’t remain a secret for long. Greg furrowed his brow at me as if he couldn’t figure out what my problem was.

“You gonna keep caterwauling?” he asked, flicking his callused thumbs against my aching nipples. The corners of his mouth curled up wickedly. “Maybe start moaning my name?”

I blinked at him a few times, and then mirrored his smirk. “OH GREG!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. “Your dick is SO TINY!”

His mouth fell open partway–somehow he hadn’t seen this coming. Before he could retaliate, our neighbour cranked up his speakers and, for the next hour, we endured the screaming, thrashing cacophony of Slipknot for our soundtrack, only slightly muffled by the less-than-adequate wall.

“See what you’ve done?” Greg scolded, gripping my chin. “You little shit!”

I sucked in a deep breath as he descended on me again. He growled and snuffled like a wild beast, licking, biting, and nuzzling me all over. My breathing ramped up to rapid gasps and huffs. I scraped his back with my fingernails. My pelvis squirmed back and forth, up and down, needing him.

“Please… please,” I hissed. “C’mon, please!”

“Please what?”

“Pleeeease… take my cock out!” I sighed pathetically, kicking my legs. “Boxers off! Off!”

He snorted and grinned smugly down at me. “I like making you beg. I think I want a little more of that.” He rubbed up against me, slowly, maddeningly grinding his hard bulge against mine.

“Gah!” I grunted. “Ugh! Greg! Seriously! I… I’m gonna bust. Please, for fuck’s sake… I’ll cream my shorts! Take ’em off! Take my cock out–fuck, PLEASE!”

His grin grew wider, and smugger. He sat back a little and once more grabbed the waistband of my boxers. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty baby.”

He slowly pulled my boxers down, and my cock leaped up, the tip deep scarlet and shining with precum. He pulled faster and finally liberated my feet from the tangle of fabric, tossing it to the floor.

“You’re naked,” he stated, half amused, half sinister. “And… a bit horny by the looks of it.”

“Mm-hm,” I mumbled, settling my legs on either side of him. I nudged him with my heels. “Touch… touch my cock.”

“You sure?” He grinned and leaned down a little, forming his mouth into a little “o”. He blew a soft breath against the oozing tip of my cock.

“Ohhhh!” I breathed quiveringly. My toes curled, and my hands bunched up his sheets. “S-still not how you give a blowjob. Idiot. Now… c’mon… grab my cock. Grab it. Greg–I’m serious. Grab me already!”

He placed one hand in the middle of my chest and then raked his fingers slowly downward. As he travelled below my navel, nearly making me squeal, his fingers strayed to one side and scraped down my thigh. He blew on me once more.

“Ohhh I hate you!” I groaned, squeezing him between my legs. “Bastard!”

His rough, callused hand pressed flat upon my thigh and then slid back up, sending an array of tingles across my sensitive, meticulously moisturized skin. It dipped down and cupped my balls, tugging gently.

“Oh!” I cried, digging my heels into his back. “Oh! Mm–!”

He slid his thumb up between my balls until it rested above my sac, and wrapped his index finger around the base of my cock to meet his thumb, forming a circle, which he squeezed tightly and drew agonizingly slowly up to the tip, milking a large drop of clear precum.

“Shhhhit!” I gasped.

He kept that ring snugly around the tip of my cock and leaned down, blowing gently, making me twitch. He leaned down closer, extending his tongue, and finally made contact. He drew the tip of his tongue along my slit, cleaning up every bit of precum. He shut his eyes, released a long breath through his nose, and then opened them again. He kissed my cock, tenderly, and slid his thumb-and-finger ring slowly back down my shaft.

“Ga… aaah!” I wailed, clamping my legs around him almost involuntarily as the hastily building pleasure deep inside me shot up to a reckless climax. I busted an explosive load across his face.

“Fuck!” he barked, jerking back.

I was heedless of his reaction as I squirmed blissfully in the throes of my orgasm, reaching my hips up off the mattress. My hands continued to twist and bunch his sheets. I grinned blindly at the ceiling as I let the sensation wash over me, still accompanied by the dissonant clash of Slipknot next door.

When I was finally able to focus on Greg’s face, I noticed he had a fist pressed against one eye.

“You came in my eye, you asshole!” he grumbled.

“I came all over you, sucker!” I laughed tremulously, grinning at the spectacular splotches of cum that painted most of his face and part of his chest. “I like you all sloppy-faced. So whorish. Big ol’ gay football whore.”

He snorted and grabbed a corner of a sheet, wiping himself off thoroughly. He rubbed his eye and blinked rapidly. It was a bit bloodshot. “Fuck, that stings.”

“Now who’s being a baby?”

“Shut it, you little brat,” he grumbled, closing his fist abruptly around my only partially- softened cock.

“Ooh!” I yelped. “Ahh–fuck! NOW you grab me?”

“I didn’t expect you’d be such a hair trigger!” he shot back. “I mean, I know I’m hot, but… man, I thought you’d at least give me a few minutes. What a let-down!”

I propped myself up on my elbows, glaring intensely up at him. “Now, hold on–who said I was finished? I happen to be a dynamo in bed, you fucking caveman. Get ready for multiples.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and worked at stroking me in earnest. “Maybe keep the next one outta my face, huh, slick?”

“Maybe don’t put your face right next to my cock, huh, genius?” I settled back onto his pillow and sighed as he jerked me.

It took only a couple of minutes for me to reach full hardness again. I smiled smugly up at Greg. “You like that cock?”

He leaned down and kissed my mouth–a long, lingering, wet smooch with plenty of passionate tongue. “I’ve barely gotten started with that cock, pretty boy,” he whispered against my lips. “You’ve got some work left to do. You think I’m just gonna pleasure you all night? Lazy ass.”

“Take your pants off!” I hissed. “Let’s see what you’re… very poorly hiding.” I humped against his hardness a few times.

“Get up.”

We switched places, and he took no time to wriggle out of his pants and underwear all at once, kicking them off the end of the bed. His huge erection thumped heavily against his belly. I’d seen his bulge, not to mention the ludicrous size of his hands and feet, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, I was speechless.

“Quit drooling, princess,” he quipped, smirking arrogantly. “You look like a fucking idiot.”

I swallowed and reached out with both hands, grasping his shaft–hot, surging, and rock-hard beneath its soft veil of loose flesh. I heard his breath tremble. I took hold of his heavy ballocks, squeezing them, weighing them in my hands like fruit. He shivered again. I slid my hands back up his shaft and began to stroke him firmly and rhythmically. Greg’s cock fascinated me, impressed me, turned me on, and terrified me all at once.

“You like that?” I whispered uncertainly.

His eyes blazed. I could tell by the set of his mouth and the occasional quiver of his breath that he was loving it. “Could be better… if you didn’t have such girly little hands,” he huffed. “Fuck your soft hands. Fuck your moisturizer.”

“Fuck your big fat horse cock!” I returned, jerking him quicker.

“Fuck your… multiple orgasms!” he panted.

“Fuck… you,” I concluded, smirking down at him. I was running out of things to fuck, but still loving this game, and loving how breathless he was getting from my handjob. “Just fuck you, Greg.”

“Yeah.” He smiled widely at me, and winked. “Fuck me indeed.”

I cocked my head; my hands paused.

“Fuck me,” he reiterated, his eyes piercing into mine. “Fuck me, Markus. I mean it.”

“Huh?” I felt a little tickle travel up my spine.

He tucked a hand down into the tight space between his mattress and bedframe and came up with a half-full lube bottle, which he slapped down onto his belly. He reached down again and rummaged until he came up with a strip of condoms. He tore one off and held it between his first two fingers like a cigarette, holding it out to me.

I think my mouth fell open a little bit as I reached out tentatively to take the condom. In this scenario, I didn’t truly expect it would escalate to actual ass-fucking. If the possibility had entered my mind, I would have expected he’d want to fuck me, which explained my feeling intimidated by the size of his cock. I was something of a twink, after all–the twink always gets ass-fucked by the muscle hunk.

“You want me… to fuck you?” I clarified stupidly.

He laughed heartily. “That’s what I said, smart guy. What, did you expect me to top you? Please–I’d destroy your poor little virgin ass!”

“What makes you think I’ve got a virgin ass?” I quickly retorted.

“Please,” he said again, snorting. “I can smell a virgin a mile away.”

“I’m not a virgin!”

“But you’ve never fucked a guy before. Or been fucked by one.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

He smiled steadily. “The look on your face. The way you touch my cock. I dunno. A lot of things.”

I felt a bizarre burst of affection for him then. Hadn’t I always hated stereotypes? I’d typed him in so many ways, and he was proving me consistently wrong.

And his smile–it was perfectly genuine in this moment.

“I’m a bottom,” he added. “You got a problem with that? Pretty boy?”

I shook my head slowly and tore the wrapper open. “Nope!” I grinned back at him as I put on the condom. I was instantly and wholly in love with the idea of fucking him in the ass.

Slipknot continued to growl, serenading us aggressively as Greg flipped open the lube bottle and poured plenty into my hands. I slicked myself up. He spread his legs wide apart, propping one foot on the edge of the bed and the opposite knee against the wall. I watched in fascination as he lubed up his fingers and pressed them into his pink pucker. They slid in with apparent ease. I was rapt as he gently fucked himself with those two fingers, working in more and more lube as he did so.

“Ready?” he asked, spreading wider for me and gripping his thighs.

I nodded and shuffled closer, leaning over him. I propped one hand next to his shoulder and used my other to guide my cock. “I’ve… never done anal before,” I admitted suddenly. “With anyone. At all.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned and then snorted. “You can think of me as a nice, tight pussy if it helps.”

I rolled my eyes and blushed, pushing gently against his asshole. “I just… don’t want to… hurt you or anything.” I made a face at him to break the seriousness. “Not that you wouldn’t deserve it.”

He snorted again. “You, hurt me? Gimme a fucking break. Seriously–I’m a tough guy. I’ll let you know if I need you to ease up. Now just fuck me already, would you? Fuck that ass, princess!”

I let out a breath and leaned in, now propping myself up with both hands and pushing forward with my hips. His opening felt impossibly tight at first.

“Harder!” he barked.

I clenched my jaw and pushed harder against him. The tip of my cock penetrated him, popping abruptly past the initial ring of muscle. It was easier going then. I slid in further and further, sucking in a breath as I did so.

“Ohh… whoa!” I exhaled. “That… that really is a nice, tight pussy.”

“Thought you’d like that.” He grinned and wrapped his legs around me, coaxing me closer. “Feel that? Your cock’s inside me. Good stuff?”

“Real good!” I agreed, feeling an immense sensation of blissful warmth spread up through my abdomen and flood all of my extremities. My balls rested against his ass, and I groaned, long and loud. “Fuuuck! I can’t believe this is happening!”

Greg grinned like an idiot. His cheeks were very red. “You’re kinda cute when you’re porking me.”

I watched him closely as I started pulling out, and then pushing back into him, still tentative.

“Get the lead out,” he urged, pushing up against me. His goofy smile disappeared fast, and he glared and barked at me like a coach: “I dragged you up here to fuck me, now fuck me already. C’mon, pretty boy–I thought you were a ‘dynamo’. Now fuck my ass like you mean it!”

I drew myself up and glared back at him, gritting my teeth as I withdrew just to the tip, and then plunged in to the hilt with force.

“Yeah!” He hooked his hands around his thighs and pulled his legs up further, bending nearly double. “Again!”

I was struck with sudden nervousness about the structural integrity of the little loft bed holding us up. “This bed isn’t going to break, is it?”

“Not a chance,” he said urgently. “The people who design these things know what goes on in them. I could probably have a raging linebacker threesome up here and not come close to breaking the bed. Now let’s get some rhythm! Let the music guide you!” He brayed with laughter.

Slipknot’s crashing drums and frantic electric guitar riffs set a dizzying pace as vocals screamed at us incoherently from the other side of the wall. I hated metal, but the sheer intensity and surreality of it seemed to somehow… fit. I let it inhabit me, and rested my hands on his firm chest as if to hold him down while I arched over him and began slamming into his tight ass over and over and over. I bit down on my bottom lip, almost hard enough to make it bleed. I was scarcely aware of the growl that was welling up in my throat. I became a beast, pile driving him into the mattress with fury as if he weren’t three times my size.

“Oh!” Greg cried out, throwing his head back. The blooms of colour in his cheeks darkened, and a light sheen of sweat broke out across his face. “Oh! Oh! Fuck!”

Spurred on, I bared my teeth and hissed a series of profanities at him, fucking him as hard and as fast as my body would allow. My balls ached from colliding repeatedly with his backside, and from their desperation to release once more. The sensation of his snug passage squeezing me as I mercilessly fucked him was exquisite. I was sweating, too–it rolled down my temples and dripped from my chin.

“Oh fuck that’s it!” he bellowed. “Fuckin’ A! Right there, right there–OH!”

His boisterous enjoyment enflamed me so powerfully, I could feel the warm rise of a second climax begin to well up already.

“Hhhhaaaugghhh…!” I wailed, slamming into him at a faster pace for several strokes as I gave up control and wave after wave of sweet release cascaded over me.

I fought to get my breathing under control as I pulled out, grabbed hold of the condom, and twisted it shut, quickly flipping it onto the floor. Greg let his legs fall with a long, shuddering sigh.

“That all I get?” he panted, looking disappointed and irritable.

“Condom!” I gasped, stroking myself rapidly. “Still hard!”

Perking up, he quickly tore off a second and pressed it into my hand. I scrambled to put it on.

“Going for three, slick?” Greg grinned excitedly, wiping off his forehead.

“It’s happening!” I promised, hastily re-lubing myself. “Can I do you from behind?”

He rolled over gamely, sticking his ass out at me, and I smacked it before positioning myself between his spread knees and pushing inside his scorching hole. My cock seemed to radiate with powerful energy. I had never felt so turned on.

“Yeahhh, you’re like a bitch in heat!” I growled, leaning over and pressing my face against his warm, sweaty back. I licked him a little, and he tasted salty.

“Your cock,” he moaned into his pillow, sounding humble for the first time since I’d known him. “Need your cock so much.”

“You got it, champ,” I promised. I gripped his sides and fucked him faster, working up a new rhythm. This time I ignored the music and didn’t so much drive into him as connect with him, rocking him in smooth, flowing, graceful strokes of my hips.

We didn’t yell or swear this time. We just panted, occasionally whimpered, moaned, and mumbled encouragements or affirmations. It was better that I couldn’t see his face in those moments, because it was too good. It was too fucking good.

I lasted much longer this time. I seemed to spend half the night riding him, and didn’t even notice when the Slipknot album ended. We were simply fucking in hot, heavy, dreamy silence.

I was almost in a trance when he suddenly shifted forward, and I popped out of him with a little cry of displeasure. He turned round and grabbed me, pressing me down into the mattress. In one swift movement he removed my condom, tossed it away, and descended on me, taking me into his mouth to the hilt.

“Fffff–!” I exhaled through my teeth, very pleasantly surprised.


I watched him bob up and down gamely on my resilient cock, his eyes squeezed shut. His tongue swirled around my shaft and across my tip, making me gasp repeatedly.

“Teeth,” I huffed. “Give me some teeth.”

He scraped his teeth gently across my most sensitive flesh, and I dug my heels into the mattress and groaned. My hips pushed up against his mouth, and for a third time I cried out in an explosion of throbbing pleasure. I spurted my load straight at the back of his throat, and he swallowed every drop with a determined countenance.

When his mouth released my cock with a sloppy smack, it was finally softening and slapped wetly against my belly. I was exhausted and blissfully happy, feeling paralyzed as I gazed up at him. He sat up a little, licked his lips, and gripped his huge cock, jerking himself with both hands in a tugging, twisting motion. I was useless as I watched him work, his chest, neck, and face flushed a deep red. He breathed rapidly and opened his eyes at last, locking them on mine.

“Cum for me,” I whispered. “Cum all over me. I want it.”

“You want it, pretty boy?” he panted.

“I want it.”

He pumped his shaft harder and grunted, arching a little and thrusting his hips forward. He gritted his teeth and sprayed an impressive gout of scorching hot cum all the way up my belly and chest, and then several more smaller spurts. I was sloppy with it.

His movements slowed, and he finally relaxed, leaning weakly against the wall. I idly ran my finger through a glob of his cum, and licked it. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not, but I licked up a little more nonetheless. The rest I wiped off with his sheet.

Greg groaned and grabbed my shoulder, rolling me onto my side. He wedged himself in behind me so that we were spooning, and I smiled as he softly kissed the back of my neck and my ear.

“Epic fuck,” he mumbled. “You’re an insufferable little spoiled brat, but you can really fuck.”

“You’ve got a pretty sweet ass,” I mumbled back at him, “for a big dumb Neanderthalic football jock.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “Can I fuck you again sometime?”

“All… th’ time,” he mumbled, his speech beginning to slur a little. “You c’ fuck me… all th’ time.”

I struggled to extricate myself from his sleepy arms. Greg was content to be a slob, but I wouldn’t be able to rest without showering off immediately.

When I came out of the bathroom and ascended to my own bed, he was snoring away. I had no trouble falling asleep myself–I had begun to find his snores soothing.

We stayed fuck buddies for a very long time. It was obvious we’d never work as a couple, but the heat–fuck! The heat was always incredible.

I can’t say he was ever nicer to me. We had our little moments, but despite annihilating stereotypes I hadn’t even realized I’d harboured, he was still a macho asshole jock, and I suppose I remained a spoiled princess who drove him up the wall. I think we genuinely hated each other when we got into yelling matches, but that didn’t stop us from ending in a raucous bout of fucking. The bigger the fight, the better the fuck.

It was only when my cock was inside him that we seemed to make our peace, without the need for any words. It was a bizarre sort of equilibrium, but it worked for us. If I had been given the opportunity to choose my roommate, I doubt I would have chosen any other.

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