Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ZANDER
“Was that you in the bathroom? On your knees, gagging on dick? Sounded hot,” the stranger says in my ear. I look up at him, panic setting in again. But thankfully the man looks older, like he’s in his mid-thirties, not someone from our school. I don’t want it to get around that I’m blowing people in the bathroom.
How did he know? Maybe my shoes were visible under the stall? Or did he see Kerian shove me into the bathroom? I’m sure most people saw how I—a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound man—was muscled into the bathroom by a man equally as large. Maybe he deduced what we were doing in a stall together.
His comment takes me off guard before I get my bearings and shake his hand off, my panic fading. “No, you fucking weirdo. Don’t ever touch me?—”
My words are cut off when a blur flies at the guy, knocking him off his feet. Kerian straddles the man’s chest and rains down punch after punch to his face. He tries to push Kerian off, but he’s no match for a quarterback who does weight training for breakfast.
“Don’t— ever —fucking — touch—him—again!” Kerian punctuates every word with a punch, beating him to a pulp.
I watch in morbid fascination. I abhor violence, other than when I’m on the field, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the display in front of me.
It takes a moment to realize that Kerian is doing this… for me. Because the man touched me, if his threats are anything to go by.
“Kerian, enough,” I shout, grabbing his arm before he can land another blow.
He meets my gaze, his pupils dilating before returning to their natural size. “This?—”
A crowd has formed around Kerian’s assault and a bouncer pushes through, cracking his knuckles. “You two!” he points to me and Kerian. “Let’s go. You’re out of here tonight!”
Kerian looks in a mood to go another few rounds, but I grab him and pull him off the guy before the bouncer tries to touch him. “We’re going,” I shout over the music. “We’re out of here.”
I hustle Kerian out the door, glancing back at the man on the floor. He’s sitting up, shooting daggers at us, but he’s alive and coherent, so I take that as a win. He’s all fucked up, with his broken nose and busted lip, but he’ll live.
When we get outside, Kerian snatches away from me and speed walks down an alley, pushing his hands through his hair. I follow him, though I’m not sure what I’m going to say when we’re alone.
I’m so fucking confused. Nothing about this entire night makes sense, including me wanting to make sure Kerian is okay after beating the shit out of someone.
“Kerian, wait,” I say, jogging over to him. “Slow down.”
I grab his arm and he spins around quickly, pushing me against the wall. “What the fuck?” I exclaim, expecting him to throw a punch at me. I’ve never been in a fight in my life, but I’ll defend myself if I have to.
He presses into me, putting a knee between my legs. It’s only then that I notice my cock is rock hard. Did I get off on seeing Kerian fight someone for me? Fuck, I am so fucking confused right now.
He drags his nose up my jaw, breathing me in. “What did he say to you?”
A shudder leaves me as I rest my hands on his waist. The same place I had them when he was fucking my throat hard enough to wreck my vocal cords. “He asked if I was in the bathroom, on my knees.”
Kerian growls, pressing in closer to me. “I should have really fucked him up more. Did you know him?” Kerian rolls his hips, his hard length pressing into me. My breathing hitches as I absorb his small thrusts, the memory of his cock down my throat making my dick twitch.
“No.” Even that one word, that one syllable, sounds fucked out and raw.
God, I need to figure out what the fuck is going on. Kerian fucking Slade should not have this effect on me. He shouldn’t make me question my entire sexuality with one kiss. He shouldn’t have me on my knees in a fucking nightclub bathroom, giving him the first blow job of my life.
He shouldn’t have made me like it.
Pulling back, Kerian’s gaze roams over my face, something flicking behind his eyes. He wraps a hand around my throat, applying pressure. I fucking whimper , a noise I didn’t think I was capable of. Fuck me, Kerian is making me do all kinds of shit I don’t normally do.
“Come home with me, Dimples. I can throat fuck you all night without waking that roommate of yours.”
He flicks his tongue over my ear, making me shiver. I want to answer his question, but my mind is fucking scrambled. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, I won’t come with him. That I don’t want him and don’t want to gag on his dick for the rest of the night. I want to tell him I didn’t like it.
Lies. All of it lies, but Kerian can’t know that. He already has my head fucked up enough.
I’m saved from giving an answer when Kerian’s phone suddenly rings. A growl percolates up his throat as he shoves his hand into his pocket to retrieve the device. He doesn’t take his eyes off me when he snaps, “Yeah?” into his phone.
If I wasn’t watching his face, I wouldn’t have noticed the change in his expression. His blue eyes shutter and the heat is replaced with something… dead. Something blank.
“Whatever.”
Kerian walks away as if he didn’t have me pinned against the wall, my dick throbbing for him.
“What the fuck, Slade?” I shout at his back, but he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even pretend he heard me—just keeps walking with quick steps.
Shoving my hands through my hair, I adjust myself in my pants and push off the wall.
The girl in the club long forgotten, I head to my car and climb inside, slamming the door behind me. “Fucking hell.”
My dick is still hard, pulsing against my leg. It’s like the orgasm back in the bathroom meant nothing. I’m hard and raring to go, wanting more.
But not from Kerian. It can’t be from Kerian. He already has me so fucking confused I can’t think straight. Hard to imagine what would have happened if I had let him take me home and feed me his dick.
God, his dick. Thick, long, and uncut. It was a shock that I could take him all. My gag reflex had activated, but not enough that I pushed him off me. He tasted… musky. Like what I imagine a man is supposed to taste like.
Fuck, I had another man’s spunk in my mouth. I almost fucking swallowed it. Hell, I let him push my own cum in my mouth.
“Goddamit!” I shout, shoving my key into the ignition, starting my car up, and driving back to my dorm.
I don’t want to think about the club anymore. I don’t want to think about what I tried to do when I arrived and what I ended up doing before I left. And I definitely don’t want to think about what I planned on doing before Kerian got that phone call.
Back at my room, I shuck my clothes and go to shower. I quickly clean Kerian’s cum off my shaft, ignoring how the spray of the water makes my dick throb painfully. But I do ignore it. I will not allow any memories of Kerian to bring me relief. If I touch myself, no amount of trying to think about pussy and titties will get me off. It’ll be Kerian. I’m not ready to face that right now.
Once out of the shower, I dry myself roughly and pull on my underwear, my cock still painfully hard.
Scooping up my phone, I scroll through my texts until I find the thread for Kerian, shooting him off an angry message.
Me: Real dick move leaving me in the alley like that. asshole
When I see he’s read the message but doesn’t answer, I toss my phone onto my desk and throw my arm over my eyes. I refuse to pull my still aching cock out to tug myself to orgasm. The one at the club was enough. Kerian won’t get another release from me.
* * *
The feel of the football in my hand draws me out of my daze. I drop back to pass, launching it deep to my wide receiver before my D line slams into me. I hit the ground hard and curse when I hear the groan from the O line. Either the pass was too long or too short.
Russ helps me up, patting my helmet when I’m on my feet. “You almost got away from me, big guy.”
Even though I’m in no mood for jokes, I grin at him. “Almost ain’t good enough.”
“You damn right it ain’t!” Coach shouts, his hands on his hips as he stares at me. “You need to get your head out of your ass, Braithe, or we’re gonna be fucked come game day. The fuck has you so distracted anyway? A girl?”
Justin snickers from where he’s practicing with the special teams. He taps his friend and whispers something and they both start laughing. Then Justin mimes holding someone by the hips and thrusting into them. His expression is lewd, his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth open as if he’s moaning. The rest of the special teams see and laugh raucously, their cackling buzzing through my ears.
Anger builds within me, and for the first time I want to shove my fist into someone’s mouth so they swallow my fucking knuckles.
“Not worth it,” Russ says, though his face betrays how he really feels.
After Russ saw how pissed I was about the shit with Megan and Justin, he’s had my back, icing Justin out and not even being cordial to him. I told him it was unnecessary, that his bullshit won’t get to me, but Russ wasn’t hearing it. It’s good that someone has my back.
Coach does too, apparently. He blows his whistle three times, getting everyone’s attention. “Is something fucking funny, Echer?”
Justin starts, probably shocked at being called out in front of everyone. “No, Coach.”
“That’s funny, because I thought I saw you being a fucking nuisance at my fucking practice. You and all the special teams, suicide drills. Now. Until I get fucking tired or until I puke. And I ain’t feeling sick today.”
All the guys glare at Justin as they jog to the end zone and start running their suicide drills. I suppress a smile, knowing if I let it bloom, Coach will have my O line joining them.
Russ stuffs his mouthguard in to hide his smirk.
“To the line,” Coach yells, blowing his whistle again.
We line up for the play, and I try to keep my head in the game, but it’s hard.
It’s been five days since I heard from Kerian. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve sent him repeated messages—some pissed, some almost begging, some really fucking confused. After the first day, he either stopped reading them or turned his read receipts off. Either way, I haven’t heard dick from him.
And speaking of dick, every morning I have to jerk off, thoughts of what we did in Nirvana assailing me. Memories are supposed to weaken with time, but with each passing day, I get more and more keyed up. Any slight brush against my dick has me rock hard, and it takes at least two orgasms for my cock to deflate.
I should go back to the club this weekend, find a girl and fuck her in the bathroom. Fuck taking her home. I need to get Kerian out of my system sooner rather than later. The sooner I know that I’m not into dudes, the better.
A faint laugh bubbles up my throat as I call the play. If I didn’t like dudes, Kerian wouldn’t have the effect on me that he does.
Over the past few days, I’ve had time to think and try to figure shit out. It’s almost impossible, trying to wrap my head around everything. If it were any other dude, I’m sure I would have been able to come to terms with it. But it’s fucking Slade. He shouldn’t have this much power over me.
But if I’m being honest, he does. I can’t face it, not completely, but when it comes to my rival, I’m fucked.
“Hut, set hut.” Chuck snaps the ball and I grip it, twisting it around my palm. Dropping back a few steps, I cock my arm back and let the ball fly. I duck Russ’s rush, grinning when he flies over my back. I stand just in time to see my tight end clutch the ball to his chest, running into the end zone.
Coach blows his whistle again. “That’s fucking better, Braithe. Now keep your head out of your ass and we can win the game against U of C in three days, yeah?”
“Yes, Coach,” I say, pulling my helmet off to push my hair from my eyes before shoving it back on.
“Run it again.”
We line back up and run the play over and over until Coach deems it perfect.
He blows his whistle three times again about an hour later, signaling the end of practice. The special teams let out grunts of pain as their punishment ends. This time, I allow the grin to bloom across my face when I meet Justin’s eyes. He sucks his teeth and waddles to the locker room. He and the rest of his team have to be hurting from running suicides for an hour.
When I finish my shower, like a fucking pathetic asshole, I pull my phone out of my locker to check it. It’s what I’ve been doing every day after practice to see if Kerian texted me. And every day I’m disappointed, dread sinking in my gut when I see I have no messages.
But today is different. His name on my screen has my breath catching. I sit on the bench, my towel wrapped around my waist as I look at his text. The thin material does nothing to hide my growing erection. Fucking Kerian.
Fucking Asshole: How’s it going, Dimples? You missed me?
I changed his name in my phone after day number two of him ignoring me. It’s childish, but I don’t give a fuck.
My dick twitches as I remember how deep and gravelly his voice sounds when he calls me Dimples. Fuck, why is Kerian in my head like this?
Me: You got sum fuckin nerve textin me. I should have blocked you
Fucking Asshole: Yeah, but you didn’t. That means you wanted to hear from me. I’m flattered.
Me: Fuck u. What do u want
Fucking Asshole: You, Dimples. How’s practice?
Me: This conversation is over. bye fucking asshole
I toss my phone away, scoffing as I stand to get dressed. My dick still hasn’t softened. With a sound of irritation, I quickly drop my towel and pull on my briefs and pants, hoping no one caught my boner.
I’m pulling my shirt over my head when I feel a presence behind me. “I should beat your ass for that shit you pulled in practice,” Justin says, anger dripping from his tone.
I turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “And what did I pull? Last I checked, you’re the one who made your team run suicides.” I lean against my locker and cross my arms over my chest. “Won’t be able to fuck your girl with sore legs, huh?”
He snarls, stepping closer to me. “You wish you were fucking her, don’t you?”
Thoughts of Kerian and how he made me come like a fucking freight train from a hand job flutter through my mind. Megan nor any other girl has ever made me come that hard, that fast.
Smirking, I shake my head. “Nah, bruh. That’s all you. I met someone at Nirvana who’s better than Megan. Glad you’re enjoying fucking behind me, though.”
He tries to leap at me, but a few of the guys who were listening to our interaction stop him before he can.
“Chill,” the first-string kicker, Brett Moone says, pushing Justin in the chest. “I’m not about to run more fucking suicides because you don’t know how to take the fucking win. You got the girl. Give it a fucking rest.”
Justin eyes me, then storms off. Well, he tries to. The hour of running at almost full speed under Coach’s watchful eye prevents him from exiting gracefully.
“Thanks man,” I say to Brett. He nods and goes to his locker to get dressed.
Russ comes out of the shower, raising an eyebrow. I shake my head and ask, “You wanna get some dinner?”
“Can’t,” he says, running a towel over his curls. “I have a paper I need to start on as soon as I get back to my room. Gonna be an all-nighter.”
“What subject?”
“Fucking Circuit Analysis.”
Russ is in school for Computer Engineering. Fucking brainiac. I’m good with numbers, so I’m getting my accounting degree. I’ve been coasting in all my math classes, but everything else is a fucking drag. Numbers make sense, everything else changes too much. But I’m riding a 3.5 GPA, so I’m happy.
“Can’t help there,” I say with a wince.
“It’s all good. I shouldn’t have left it until the last minute. Tomorrow I’ll be good to roll, though.”
“That works.” I clap hands with him and leave the locker room.
I’m trying to keep myself busy from thinking about Kerian, but I’m way ahead with all my homework. I don’t even have future assignments to do.
Vibrations from an incoming text buzz in my pocket. I try to ignore it as I head across campus, but it’s no use.
I quickly pull my phone out and look at the screen. I audibly gulp when I read the ominous message from Kerian.
Fucking Asshole: I’ll see you soon, Dimples.