Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE_
WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? (AND WHY DO I LIKE IT SO MUCH?)
Winston could think of at least a dozen places that he’d rather be than sitting in a three-hour lecture with Professor Ambrose, also known as Professor Comatose.
The man had the most monotone voice in history, and he talked with his eyes almost shut sometimes.
It was like he was so boring that he put himself to sleep.
His lectures were the literal worst. Couple that with his strict no phones policy, and the students had to suffer through three hours of mind-numbing boredom.
Professor Ambrose was lucky that his course was a mandatory graduation requirement for a few different degrees, or his classes would have been empty.
There was no way students would have ever subjected themselves to his classes willingly.
Winston wondered, from time to time, if the government had ever thought of using him as a method of torture or perhaps as a research subject on finding a cure for insomnia.
When the lecture finally ended and Professor Ambrose gave out his assignment for the week, Winston just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.
Instead, he stopped by the campus library and got a jump on the assignment.
He’d never been one to leave a task to the last minute.
Having too many things going on had always made him antsy.
Hours passed without him realizing it until his stomach clenched and rumbled, bringing Winston back into his body. He’d skipped breakfast and had only grabbed a muffin between classes. The night before was the last real meal he ate.
Winston packed up his things and turned his phone back on. Much to his surprise, the usually tame rectangular device lit up and went insane in his hand. Message after message poured in. Winston adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and opened a message.
Nothing made sense at first. It was all gibberish about a party.
And then Winston realized that the person throwing the party was apparently him.
Well, Lucky was responsible, but everyone knew the off-campus house that they lived in belonged to Winston.
So he was getting the blame, or the credit in this case.
A party? What the fuck was Lucky thinking?
Mind you, Lucky often acted before he thought things through.
With a sigh of resignation, Winston deleted all his notifications and headed home.
Even if he wasn’t aware of the party before he got home, he’d have known about it the minute he turned down their street.
The house Winston bought was at the end of a dead-end street. It backed up against a local wildlife reserve and it had cost a mint, but he’d wanted a place with as few neighbors as possible while remaining close to campus. Music thumped, making it seem like the house had a pulse of its own.
Winston edged past a few vehicles and squeezed into his parking space.
He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the party.
In the grand scheme of things, it was just a party.
And lord knows he wasn’t the only one who needed to blow off some steam.
Lucky had been extra wound lately. Winston took a breath and made an agreement with himself that he’d go easy on Lucky.
The house was a sea of bodies and red solo cups. Winston edged his way through the crowd in the kitchen. Part of him wanted to escape upstairs and ignore the party entirely, but he needed to check on Lucky. And it dawned on him that he should also check on Calvin.
Winston went upstairs first anyway to put his laptop away where it would be safe and to check on Calvin. But he wasn’t in his charging station where Winston thought he might be.
Which meant Calvin was downstairs with a bunch of drunk frat boys… and Lucky.
Winston thundered down the stairs in search of Calvin. He checked the bedrooms on the second floor and except for a couple in Novak’s room who were half dressed, the rooms were empty.
Winston made a sweep of the downstairs and eventually his eyes landed on Lucky, who was in the living room with a drink in hand. Winston spotted him in time to watch Lucky throw his head back and laugh at something.
Making a beeline for him, Winston tried to keep his irritation in check. He liked Lucky, and he knew that Lucky was hard on himself sometimes. Winston didn’t want to steamroll him and make him feel bad; he just wanted an explanation.
“Winnie!” Lucky cried out when he saw Winston approach.
Lucky was dressed in a mesh shirt that he hadn’t worn in ages, and his eyes were smudged with a layer of black eyeliner.
He greeted Winston by sliding an arm around his waist and plastering his body up against Winston’s. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Is that so?” Winston tentatively put his hand on Lucky’s hip. “This party was a surprise.”
Lucky grinned, his eyes twinkling in a way Winston hadn’t seen them sparkle in months. Whatever had been bothering him currently wasn’t, and whatever ill feelings Winston had about Lucky throwing the party vanished.
“I threw a party, but that’s not your surprise. This is.”
Lucky turned Winston around, and he came face to face with Calvin.
He looked…
He was….
“What are you wearing?” Winston’s jaw hit the floor as he raked his gaze down Calvin’s body.
Skin. Mesh. Buckles. Calvin was wearing clothes that made him look like he’d be less indecent if he were fully naked.
The shirt he wore shimmered in the light.
It was a vibrant shade of purple that could only be described as eggplant.
The shirt was cropped short and was a throwback to Lucky’s clubbing days.
Winston dragged his eyes lower and they hung there, pinned on the black skirt that barely covered Calvin’s privates.
It was more buckles than fabric. A completely indecent skirt.
Winston’s mouth went dry and his dick ached, suddenly hard and trapped in his pants. He’d done his best over the past couple of weeks since Calvin’s arrival to tell himself that he wasn’t attracted to the robot. But this was proof that Winston was a shitty liar. Even to himself.
Sleeping next to Calvin had started out as a necessity because Winston couldn’t sleep if he thought Calvin was staring at him.
And then he just got used to it. He found that he liked having someone to climb into bed with.
The erections he woke with in the middle of the night or early in the morning were just biology.
Not because of attraction. Men woke up with hard-ons sometimes.
It happened. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
But the way he wanted Calvin to hike up that skirt and bend him over the back of the couch and fuck him into oblivion? That was something to be ashamed of.
“Doesn’t he look amazing?” Lucky’s lips were so close to Winston’s ear that he could feel the shape of the words as he formed them.
“He… wha…” Winston cleared his throat.
“He picked them out himself. Well, I helped a little. Give him a spin, Cal.”
Calvin did as Lucky said and turned. The skirt barely covered Calvin’s ass. Even the slightest bend would reveal the curve of those perfect ass cheeks. When Calvin made a full circle, Lucky told him to stop.
“Do you like it?” Calvin asked.
Winston didn’t know how to answer that. Saying no was a lie. Saying yes felt like it revealed too much about how much he liked it.
“I’ve been teaching him how to be a person. He’s a fast learner.” Lucky’s pride oozed out of him, along with the scent of booze.
“How much have you had to drink?” Winston asked Lucky, who rolled his eyes.
“I can still say the alphabet backwards and walk a mostly straight line. I’m fine, Dad.”
“Don’t call me dad.” Winston grimaced as a knot of discomfort took up residence in his stomach at that word.
Lucky slid in behind him and passed Winston his drink so he could wrap his arms around him. “I could call you Daddy,” he purred in Winston’s ear. He’d always been handsy whenever he drank.
“I could call you Daddy while I pin you to the mattress and fuck the hell out of you. It’s been so long, Win. God, I need you. Please. Please, Win.” Lucky continued to beg, his quiet pleas chipped away at Winston’s resolve to say no.
Lucky kissed Winston below the ear, a dirty, dirty trick. He knew all of Winston’s weak points. He knew how to make Winston turn into a puddle of mush. Lucky kissed him again. At the same time, his hands tightened on Winston’s hips and he pulled him back, pressing his ass against Lucky’s hard cock.
“See what you do to me, Win? God, please, tell me I can have you.”
Lucky’s mouth on Winston’s skin was soft, and warm, and enticing. As was the way his fingers dug into the flesh on Winston’s hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let loose and let Lucky have him.
He took a sip of Lucky’s drink, then threw back the rest. It burned going down because Lucky liked his rum and Coke to be more rum than Coke, but Winston managed to suppress the shudder that threatened to tear through him.
“Shit, that was strong.” Winston disposed of the cup by tossing it onto the coffee table to join the graveyard of other abandoned cups.
“What do you say?” Lucky asked again. He knew the more he asked, the more Winston wouldn’t be able to refuse him.
And tonight, Winston didn’t want to refuse.
He wanted to be touched and fucked and handled.
He wanted to forget everything but the press of Lucky’s mouth against his, and the way it felt when Lucky slid inside him.
“Upstairs.” He felt Lucky smile when he answered. “Now.”
“Your room or mine?” Lucky asked.
“Mine.” Not only was his own room farther from the party, but Winston was fully aware of the way Lucky’s room looked. He had no desire to be shoved down onto the bed only to discover there was a shoe in it. It had happened before.
Lucky laced their fingers together and led them up the stairs to Winston’s bedroom. The music was almost as loud on the top floor, but Winston didn’t mind. The party could continue on without them.
Lucky wasted no time in taking his shirt off.
He struggled out of the mesh thing he pretended was an article of clothing and tossed it aside.
Winston reached for him, enticed by the bare skin and the familiarity of Lucky’s form.
Then movement distracted Winston and he turned to see Calvin pick up the shirt Lucky had discarded.
“Shit.” Winston exhaled. He’d forgotten about Calvin. “Uh…”
Lucky closed the distance between them and gathered Winston close. He ghosted a kiss against Winston’s lips. “Let him watch. It’ll be hot.”
“Yeah?” Winston let himself melt in Lucky’s embrace. The rum and Coke he’d chugged downstairs had started to enter his bloodstream. It wouldn’t make him drunk, but it loosened him up.
“Okay,” he said. “He can watch.”