Chapter 2
2
Archie
I walk out of the party and don’t look back. It’s too hot and suffocating in there, not to mention my cock is trying to hulk smash out of my swimming trunks.
I’m already stumbling halfway across campus before I brush my hair back and realize the stupid crown is missing. My brothers are going to kill me, but no way am I going to risk going back for it.
How stupid was I to drop the fucking thing? Next execs meeting, they’re all going to know I’ve lost it, and then half of them will be pissed at me for not taking the royalty thing seriously, and the other half will pepper me with questions about where I lost it and how I didn’t realize. None of those are questions I want to go near.
From now on, my life’s focus is never, ever seeing that man again.
That man I can still taste on my lips.
What the hell had I been thinking? Sure, witnessing his naked strip show last weekend had been the most sinfully sexy thing I’ve ever seen, but it didn’t mean I had to do anything about it. It definitely didn’t mean I had to hold on to his sweaty, ratty T-shirt for an entire week in the hopes I’d run into him again.
The unkempt black hair, his shrewd eyes, the nose ring, and the snarky quirk to his lips. It had all been too much up close, combined with the knowledge of what he looked like under his clothes. With the most random burst of fuck this confidence, I’d kissed him, for the first time in my entire life shutting off the voice that suspiciously sounds like my father’s, talking about the queer perversions of the age. Talking about gay men ruining everything. Talking about sins against God.
For that whole thirty blissful seconds, I’d been free.
Then he’d touched my dick and brought me crashing back to the most painful reality I’ve ever experienced.
I didn’t know kissing could be like that.
I didn’t know I could want a person as much as I wanted him.
Even knowing he didn’t hook up with that other man, I can’t shake the sludgy, sickening jealousy that hit when I saw them walk off together. Because there will be other men. Plenty, apparently, and none of those men will be me.
Still, I wish I’d at least gotten his name.
You know. To make avoiding him easier.
I get home and strip out of my clothes as soon as I’m in my room, needing the cool air on my skin. A few of my brothers are hanging out in the house who didn’t go to the party—mostly the ones who need to be serious about their studies. There aren’t many of us who aren’t already set up for life, and we try to be respectful of the others by not having all our parties here.
Given I need to take the bar, I still have to study my ass off and can’t get everything through pure nepotism, but if that fell through, it wouldn’t matter to me like it would to most. I’d still have my millions to fall back on.
At least, straight Archie would.
If Father found out I’d kissed another man tonight … the weight of his disappointment and disgust hits as heavily as if he was here. This is why, no matter how good it felt or how desperately I want to hunt that guy down again, I won’t.
I’m smarter than that.
I flop back onto my bed and finally reach down to touch myself. I don’t jerk off, just squeeze my length tighter and tighter, hoping to take the edge off.
That damn guy and the way he’d moaned. My lower lip still burns from where he bit it so hard, and it’s like I can feel his hands sliding into my hair over and over again.
I bite my free fist, frustrated that I can’t shake him. This isn’t doing anything to help with my raging boner, and the last thing I’m going to do is jerk off to the memory and torture myself further.
I chose to be deep in the closet for a reason, and I’ve managed to keep the door locked my entire life. I’ve never even been tempted to peek outside at what I was missing because I already knew the answer: everything.
Part of my whole self stands outside the closet doors, and tonight, I think that part jumped right back in with me. It’d been way too much. Way too confronting.
There’s a light knock on my door.
“Archie?”
I scramble for my sheet to throw over myself before I yell out to come in.
“Sup, brother,” Steve says. “Thought I saw you come in, but then I was all, that can’t be right, it’s not even eleven.”
“I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Damn. That’s too bad because Lizzie wanted you to text her when you got in.”
Without realizing it, Steve makes me feel even worse. Lizzie is a gorgeous girl. Exactly the type of girl Father wants me to walk away from college engaged to, and it’s gotten to the point where he’s been making regular visits to campus, trying to steal us both away for lunch in some weird attempt to get us together.
But it kills me every time we have sex. Not only because I put myself through it; I hate using her. Hate leading her on. Even though I know the likelihood of us being married in a few years is high. Once Father sets his mind to something, there’s no saying no.
Even finding out his youngest son is gay wouldn’t deter him.
“Thanks.” I swallow and grab my phone. “I’ll check in with her.”
“Too easy, bro.” Steve taps my doorframe twice before closing the door behind himself.
Needing to check in at all pisses me off. We’re not dating. We’re not anything other than resigned to a potential future together.
Instead of opening her number though, I roll over and pull a box out from under my bed that I’ve thrown the last few school newsletters into.
So much for forgetting tonight.
I flip through the pages, hating seeing my face over and over. I love the life I get to have here with my friends, but none of it feels … complete. Like no matter how much fun I’m having, I don’t get to enjoy it. Don’t get to let go and be free. It constantly feels like I’m having to remember to be careful, to play a part, to–
I freeze at the photo I’ve just come to.
Dash Lewis.
It’s him. My mystery guy. Dash.
I kissed those lips barely an hour ago. Had his warm tongue in my mouth.
Imagining kissing a guy and actually doing it are two completely different things, and I don’t know if all kisses with men are like that one was, but if they are, I’ve been missing out.
Big-time.
Which is why I’d been so determined to stay locked up and straight.
I’m not aware of when I start stroking myself, but it’s no time before I’m hard and aching again. I stare at his photo, imagining being back in that hallway with him. Imagine him dropping to his knees. Licking his lips. Opening my fly and pulling me out.
My imagination gets as far as seeing Dash stick out his tongue and swipe it over my tip before it’s too much. I come like a guy discovering his cock for the first time, and I want to scream, I’m so fucking mad at myself. Half for giving in to the urge and half for not making it last longer.
If I’m going to indulge, I should at least get the time to enjoy it.
My high drizzles away, and I sag back into the mattress, wiping my hand and cock off with my sheets before kicking them to the foot of the bed.
This whole situation blows.
And it’s all because of Dash.
That asshole and his stupid drunken striptease.
I had a weak night.
Nothing more.
It’s a big campus. There’s no reason whatsoever for me to see him again.
Except to ask if he saw the crown I dropped.
Fuck.
Fine.
So, I ask him about that and that only, and then there’s no reason to see him again.
I wonder if I can send one of the pledges to do it instead.