1. 2
“Oh, I know,” I replied with a smile. “And, like you said, probably a closet case.”
Stacio dove for his bed, grabbing his pillows and squeezing them between his arms as he turned to face me. “You think?” he asked, his tone similar to an excited schoolgirl upon hearing the latest lunch room gossip. “Makes sense, I guess. I put on some scary movie channel, by the way. You wanna watch something?”
I was tired, horny, and still a little on edge from both Riley’s revelation and Mateo’s strange behavior, but my roommate’s puppy dog eyes were enough to convince me to stay up and hang out. “Ugh, fine. What even is this?”
“Not sure,” Stacio answered, his arms moving around his bed like he was searching for the remote.
“All right,” I announced, turning to face the screen. “First one to guess it —”
“Gets a shoulder massage,” interjected Stacio. “Because mine have been so tight lately.”
“Promise?” I asked.
“What is it you always say?” he asked before answering his own question. “Oh, right. Super pinky promise.”
“Super -mega pinky promise,” I corrected him. The visuals on TV initially weren’t enough for me to guess the movie title, but when a familiar face appeared on-screen, I knew exactly what was on. “Sucks for you. This is clearly one of the Fraternity Row Exorcism movies.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re fuckin’ right!” exclaimed Stacio. “But you remember the rules, lil bro.”
I rolled my eyes. Our previously decided upon rules for blindly guessing horror movies included naming off the sequel number and subtitle. “Um, uh…” I thought aloud. “Well, that’s Lindsey Blair, so this must be Fraternity Row Exorcism 3: Curse of the Three Demons. ”
“Damn,” sighed a defeated Stacio. “I knew that one, too. It’s the one where the poster has it stylized so the number is part of the subtitle.”
“Sure is,” I said with a nod. God, I love how geeky this hot, popular jock can be when no one is around.
“Over here then,” commanded Stacio, his arms outstretched as though I was going to hop into his bed and he was going to catch me.
“What?” I giggled. “You want me to jump?”
Stacio nodded, patting the spot next to him in his bed before holding his arms out again.
How fucking cute, I thought to myself. But remember, don’t get your hopes up with the straight boys. Pulling my covers back, I mustered the strength to spring up from my bed like a frog. To my surprise, Stacio reached up and grabbed me with ease. We both laughed as I fell into his chest and he protectively wrapped himself over me. I played clueless and savored the moment, allowing my arms to briefly wrap around him as he squeezed me and rolled around. I ended up on top of him.
“Huh,” he began, “guess I overestimated how much you weigh.” Stacio looked up at me with a sparkle in his eyes. I allowed myself to remain in his embrace as I looked down at him. I think he realized how gay the scene was just then, because he quickly turned over. The motion caused me to roll off of him. “Sorry, Crispy. You’re gonna get a surprise poking you in the stomach if you lay on me like that for too long.”
Whoa , whoa, whoa! I could barely keep a straight face as I sat up and scooted forward on his bed. Did he really just say that?
I felt his big hands move up my bare back before wrapping around my shoulders and pressing into my pressure points.
In my experience, when a guy said something like that, it was almost like an unspoken invitation for sex. I knew I had to capitalize on it, even if I wasn’t sure I was really emotionally ready to proposition my crush. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Anastacio,” I finally replied.
At first, my roommate’s only response was the gentle movement of his hands along my shoulders. He really was an amazing masseuse, but it was usually me who ended up having to give him a massage. This was such a gay thing to do, but I could tell Stacio loved every minute. I felt his warm breath on my skin and wondered exactly what he was thinking.
“You know,” he finally spoke up again. I waited with bated breath for him to continue. To express his feelings for me—his undying love, even. “I heard a rumor that each movie in this series was based on real-life events. Like part two, for example, was totally?—”
“Based on the urban legends at Woodvale University,” I thoughtlessly interrupted.
“You heard that, too, huh?” Stacio asked. “God, I love how geeky you are.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling as I digested Stacio’s words. Maybe we both really are thinking the same things. Maybe he’s—no. Can’t be.
As my roommate’s skilled hands worked to relieve me, I tried my best not to fantasize about using my hands—and my mouth, and my ass—to relieve him. Fortunately, my boner wasn’t visible to him as he sat behind me. “Bridger told me the writer for this one actually went to our college,” I said. “Even said this story was based on some mysterious deaths on our campus.”
“Yeah?” Stacio asked, his voice closer to my ear than before. “I think Bridger’s right. That night we got Harlow drunk, he told me about the three kids who died at the annual Big Delt Spirit Week party. Maybe that’s the inspiration.”
“The Big Delt Three? No way. I never heard that.” Despite the warmth of Stacio’s body heat, his words were enough to make me feel cold to the core. I knew our house celebrated a tradition of three friendly ghosts—alleged spirits of brothers past—but in my head it was more of a family-friendly Casper situation than a bloody occult massacre story like Fraternity Row Exorcism. “Really!?”
“Really,” Stacio quickly replied. From his tone, I gathered he was telling me the truth— or at least the truth as he understood it.
While I didn’t want him to stop the amazing massage I was receiving, his revelation brought me back to what Riley told me earlier. “Well, then maybe some of Riley’s little decorations for tomorrow’s party aren’t such a good idea.”
Like a boyfriend or a close, intimate partner might do, Stacio stopped the massage and pulled me back and into his chest, tilting his head forward so that he could look me in the eyes. “Hm? What decorations?”
I sighed. “He told me the boys and him put up some kind of inverted pentagram for the party. I know I’m a horror super fan, but it feels a little too far for even me.” At first hesitant to do so, I looked back at Stacio. His eyes were warm and inviting, the look on his face entrancing.
“Isn’t a pentagram like, I don’t know, not actually scary or evil?” Stacio asked.
“Well, no. But the inverted pentagram kind of is.”
“Hm, I see. You think we should investigate?” he asked, his eyebrows arched.
“Um,” I began, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. “I’m pretty comfortable here, so, uh… no? I mean, I’m guessing it’ll be okay. I could always just get rid of it tomorrow.”
“All right, then, scaredy-pants!” Stacio exclaimed, his arms moving in front of me as he tickled me uncontrollably. I squealed and pressed my body back into his. My positioning was such that he wrapped his arms under mine, giving himself full control over my body to do with it what he wanted.
I was so concentrated on the involuntary jerking that came with being tickled that I hardly realized the homoerotic undertones of the situation. That is, until his hands brushed against my hard-on.
“Oh, shoot!” he shouted, pulling his arms back and away. “Didn’t mean to awaken Little Crispy.”
“No?” I asked, turning my head to face him.
“Not at all,” Stacio said. His tone was unconvincing, but I was much more focused on his facial expression. He looked back at me with a shy, crooked smirk. There was silence between us, and for a second it was like the sound of the movie had completely disappeared. Am I—is he—are we about to kiss? I asked myself. Cue melodramatic nineties love song playing somewhere in the background.
Before I could find out, I felt his big hands on my knees. He lifted me enough so that the small of my back pushed into his abs and I sat in his lap. A moment later, I felt a warm throbbing sensation that extended from the crotch of my own underwear up to the top of my buttocks. This feeling, I quickly realized, was Stacio’s erection pressing into me. “Feels like Little Stacio is up, too,” I said with some bravery. “Although I’m not sure if little is the best descriptive word.”
“Heh,” said Stacio. That was his only verbal response before his hands once again moved up to my shoulders to continue the massage.
Fuck, I thought to myself. It feels enormous. What a fucking tease he is. I tried to search for the right words, but couldn’t. Instead, I enjoyed the movie and the massage as he continued to throb against me. I tried my best to keep my eyes open while visuals of Stacio, Riley, Mateo, and the demonic horde from the movie swirled in my head.
“Psst,” I remembered hearing Stacio whisper. “You ain’t falling asleep on me now, are you?”
“N-no,” I managed. I felt his massage end, his hands releasing me and allowing me to completely fall back into him once again. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not. Is this a dream? I asked myself as I felt his strong arms wrap around me like I was one of the pillows he cuddled with throughout the night. “W-we shouldn’t,” I stuttered, my vision blurry as my body felt completely relaxed. But I so badly want to.
A familiar voice whispered in my ear. “I know. But I can’t help myself. Just think of me as—I don’t know—I’m like the guy on the screen right now. Possessed.”
My eyes closed now, I could tell I was on the verge of dreaming. Everything from reality blended in with my thoughts. I felt Stacio readjust my limp body with great care, felt his legs envelop me the same way his arms were. His warmth all around me brought a smile to my face—or, at least, I think it did. I tried to speak, but it felt like an impossible task. My eyelids fluttered, but I couldn’t bring myself to open them again.
Stacio’s possessed, huh? I thought to myself. If I was more clear-minded, I would’ve remembered he was making a joke in reference to the exorcism-laden film I was falling asleep to. Possessed by what? A gay guy that actually wants me? Wants me for more than just sex? For affection? For cuddles? For love?
As is tradition in my nightly dream regime, I felt like my body was thrown from a cliff. The sensation of falling was intense. I knew that when this happened my body would temporarily tense up, and I wondered what Stacio might think in response. I hope he keeps me—uh, I mean, keeps holding me.
The knowledge that I was asleep in his arms made me feel safe and empowered even as my dreams took a dark turn. Even as I found myself in a dark fraternity house that was a blend of the setting in the movie, my current living quarters, and—for some reason—a mixture of my grandmother’s old Victorian home from my early childhood.
A strange noise was enough for me to jump out of the bed. Click, click, click, click!
“Stacio?” I called out as I realized his absence. But maybe he wasn’t really ever there at all. Maybe that’s just me remembering he was with me before I fell asleep. After all, he’s my roommate, right? Maybe I just had another one of my little wet dreams again. The ones where he kisses me passionately, places me on top of his body, and thrusts into me as he grabs for my neck.
A Stacio-sized shadow drifted off in the distance. I was quick to pursue it.
Similar to most dreams, the layout of the building I traversed was illogically flawed. I moved through the bathroom before finding myself in the living room with several of my fraternity brothers. They cheered as my grandmother tossed water balloons down at them from the second-story terrace. “Grandma Nadine, what are you doing here?” I asked, my hands on my hips.
“The water balloons,” Grandma Nadine began, tossing two more down at the excitable group surrounding me. For being dead, she looked like a million bucks. “Don’t tell your mother, but they’re actually jungle juice balloons.”
I watched with amazement as a shirtless Riley dove to his knees in time for a balloon to break right on his face. “Fuck yeah, grandma!” he shouted, sticking his tongue out as he savored the red contents of the balloon. For a brief second, it looked like he was doused in blood.
“Great,” I began, “this is one of those dreams that makes no fucking sense whatsoever. God, I wish I could wake up and go back to enjoying whatever was happening before this.”
“Mr. Kramer, isn’t it?” I turned around as Harlow, our handsome house father, appeared with a clipboard. He was dressed in the same outfit he wore the day I first met him. Despite having gone through the pledge process, I wasn’t formally introduced to this broad-shouldered spectacle of a man until I had received word I could move into the house. He seemed to scribble something down in his notes.
“Uh, yes, sir!” I replied.
“Let’s see,” Harlow mumbled. “Looks like your grandma is actually taking the room reserved for you. But we’ve got some space down in the basement. One of your new housemates will show you. Mr. Andrade?”
Stacio! I thought excitedly to myself, turning to face the direction Harlow was now looking. Instead, all I saw was my friend, Bridger. Not Stacio!
“You know how I am about big crowds,” Bridger whispered, tilting his head toward the excited frat boys clamoring to get jungle juice from my grandma. “Why did you invite me here, anyway?”
The familiar Jersey accent I’d grown to hate was enough to make the few hairs I had on my body stand at attention. It came from somewhere behind me. “Let’s just go to the basement and get it over with, you freaks.” I felt a strong hand on my shoulder as I was forced forward and down the nearest hall. As I turned and my vision adjusted, I saw a disheveled-looking Mateo guiding me along. Bridger followed behind reluctantly.
“Wow,” Bridger whispered again. “Big Delts? More like big dicks.”
“This is where Dante said it was, right?” Mateo asked.
I came to a stop. “Dante?”
Mateo rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Sissy Crissy.”
I mustered up all the courage I had to confront Mateo. “Mateo, I’m not putting up with your shitty attitude anymore.”
Mateo huffed. “Fine.”
It felt like me standing up for myself worked. “And, uh, while we’re at it, I’m also not going to live in the basement!”
“Yeah,” added Bridger. “He’s seen way too many scary movies for that bullshit.”
Mateo undid his belt buckle and pulled his pants and underwear off. He was rock hard, his uncut cock larger than I could’ve ever imagined. I felt my body reacting to the visual—felt my underwear tightening, my own manhood throbbing. It couldn’t hurt to just touch it, right? Just—I don’t know—suck him off once. He’s not gonna tell anyone.
Mateo flicked his manhood against his thigh. I watched with great interest as a thin strand of pre-cum dripped from his thick mushroom head. “You wanna get fucked by a demon?” he asked.
“I mean, I’m definitely weighing my options,” I quickly replied. “Wait, did you just say demon?”
A slow, strange smile crept across Mateo’s face as his eyes darkened. “That’s what’s waiting for you, anyway. In the basement.”
Bridger adjusted the glasses on his nose, then grabbed for my hand. “Fuck this noise. I’d rather take my chances through here.”
“W-w-wait,” I began, my body tensing as the lighting in the room went out. I heard Bridger fidgeting for a door handle before pulling me along with him. Suddenly, there was light again. Only this time, it was coming from a glowing pentagram on the concrete floor beneath my feet.
“Bridger, where’d you take me?”
I looked up to see my friend clutching a stack of notebooks like he always was. “Told you I didn’t like big crowds. Thought for sure it’d be safer down here, b-but…”
Okay, this dream is getting too weird, I decided as I shut my eyes. Time to stop playing along and wake up. At least give me something else to dream about. Hell, I’ll go back upstairs and do beer bongs with Grandma Nadine. Haven’t seen her since her open casket funeral, anyway.
I felt a warm breeze, but I kept my eyes closed. The only thing that could prompt me to open them again would be my roommate waking me up. I’m sure that any second he’s going to realize he’s crossing some kind of line, wake me up, and ask me to go back to my bed. Sure enough, seconds later, I caught a familiar whiff. Vanilla absolute and black pepper oil, his cologne.
“St-Stacio?” I asked. I opened my eyes—or at least I thought I did. I couldn’t tell because everything was completely black. The scent that felt like home—like safety—was still there, however. “Stacio? Are you here?”
As though in response to my calls, two warm hands engulfed mine. They were big and rough, and I could tell that they had to be his. “Stacio, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep or put you in a weird position. You don’t have to play along. I’ll get back in my bed and we can pretend that nothing ever?—”
“Shhh, lil bro.”
The sound of a match striking wood caused me to jump. The light it produced was enough to illuminate Stacio’s face before me, but he held a finger to his lips. “Look at you, Crispy,” he said, a smile finding its way to his lips. “You scared?”
I swallowed hard. “No, just dreaming.”
“We should’ve got rid of it before the party, you know,” said Stacio, his hand uneasy as he slowly moved the match around.
“Got rid of what?” I asked, my eyes attempting to see whatever Stacio was looking for. Still, nothing. Complete darkness except for the lower half of his face. “Stacio?”
Slowly, my roommate lifted the match up higher. I watched as shadows bounced off of his lips and nose, but I felt deeply unsettled when he held the match high enough for me to take in his whole face.
I bit my lip hard, almost as though I was holding in a high-pitched yelp.
“The pentagram,” Stacio answered.
His words barely registered to me. I was too focused on what I could see now. His pupils were missing, and so were the whites of his eyes. The divots in his head where they should be were filled with darkness.
Something inside of me told me it was eternal. That it was menacing. That it was evil.
But I still wanted him, my body still wanted him, and when he leaned in for a kiss, I was happy to oblige.