Chapter 6
It’s the longest walk of my life. Six steps from my bed to the bathroom door. My legs feel like they’re made of lead. I’m wearing nothing but my compression shorts, which are doing a piss-poor job of hiding how much I want this, how far down the rabbit hole I’ve already fallen.
In the bathroom, I see myself in the mirror over the sink. A stranger. A guy with wild eyes and flushed skin. A guy who’s about to walk back into his dorm room with a bottle of lube and let his best friend put his dick inside him.
The daredevil in me is doing cartwheels. The sensible part of my brain has officially checked out. I grab the bottle from the shower ledge. Silky Smooth. The peach on the label catches the light.
When I walk back into the room, Stone has taken off his own compression shorts.
Not his jersey, but just his shorts. They sit crumpled on the floor by the foot of the bed, along with his dirty socks.
His erection is straining up toward his stomach, thick and veined and angry-looking.
The head is a deep, dark red, and it’s already beading with fluid.
He’s big. Bigger than I would’ve thought.
Bigger than I am, and I’m not exactly small.
But it’s the girth that gets me. The sheer thickness of it. It’s like a fucking beer bottle. There’s a jealous pang in my gut, followed by a hot spike of pure terror. That’s not supposed to go anywhere near anyone’s ass, let alone mine.
Stone sees me, and a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face.
That goddamn smile that’s gotten him out of trouble more times than I can count, that’s charmed countless girls into doing god-knows-what for him.
He’s using it on me now, and it’s working.
I feel my resolve crumble. Whatever resolve I had left, anyway.
“Just the tip, you said?” He takes the lube from my hand. His knuckles brush against my palm, and I flinch. The contact is like an electric shock. He uncaps the bottle and squirts a generous amount into his palm. The slick, artificial peach scent fills the air.
He starts coating his cock, sliding his hand up and down the shaft, spreading the glistening lube over every inch. The sight is mesmerizing. Hypnotic. I can’t look away. His knuckles bump against the head as he reaches the top, and he lets out a soft grunt.
“Yeah,” I say, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears. “Just the tip.”
“Well… are you gonna get rid of those shorts?” He gestures with the bottle of lube to the fabric still clinging to my thighs.
Right. The shorts. I peel them down over my erection, which springs free and slaps against my stomach.
I’m just as hard as he is, just as ready.
I kick the shorts away, and I’m completely naked now.
Stone’s still got his jersey on, so we’re this ridiculous picture—me bare-ass naked, him half-dressed with his dick out.
Two football players with raging hard-ons. What a fucking scene.
“You keep your jersey on?” I ask.
“You want me to take it off?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Probably less weird this way. Both of us buck naked would be…”
“Yeah. Fair.”
“Unless you want me to take it off?”
“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.”
“So how do you wanna…?”
“Get back on the bed,” he says, and there’s that note of authority again. “Like you were before. Hands on the mattress. Ass up.”
I let out a small, sheepish laugh as I bend over the side of the bed in front of him.
My hands press into the comforter, which is already a rumpled mess from where I was gripping it earlier.
I’m presenting my asshole to him again, like a goddamn offering, and somehow it doesn’t feel nearly as wrong as it should.
Two big feet plant themselves behind me. Then a warm, heavy hand settles on the small of my back, fingers spreading across the curve of my ass. A cold trickle of lube slides between my cheeks, and I gasp. A moment later, his thumb drags it over the rim, warming it with the friction.
“This is so fucking nuts, man,” he says, circling my hole. “We’re about to—”
“Please, Stone,” I cut in. “Don’t make me think too much about it.”
“Right. Sure.”
Another drizzle of lube. Another slow circle. His thumb pushes in, and my body gives way with an embarrassing lack of resistance.
“Still nice and open for me. Good. Let’s see if you can take this now.”
I feel him nudge his cock up against me, right in the cleft. He spreads my ass cheeks apart, and he slots his cock between them, dragging the slick, leaking head back and forth.
My heart is in my throat. This is really happening. We crossed the line a while ago, but we just keep going, getting further and further away from anything that resembles sanity.
Stone pulls his dick back a little, and I feel him prodding the sensitive skin around my hole, hunting for the opening. He finds it, and the blunt, spongy tip presses right against me.
I suck in a breath, bracing for impact. For a moment, I think about all the girls he’s fucked and what they must have felt when he pushed into them for the first time.
How they must have gasped, spreading their legs wider to take him.
And now I’m about to get the same treatment. Bent over my own bed.
“Just the tip,” he murmurs, like he’s reminding himself of the bargain.
He pushes. Slowly. So slowly. The pressure builds and builds until my body finally yields, the same way it did for the plug. There’s a sharp sting as the crown of his cock breaches me. I cry out, a short, broken sound I don’t recognize as my own.
Then he’s in. Just the head.
He stops, holding himself there. I feel like a champagne bottle that’s just been popped.
A tight seal has been broken, and everything is about to come rushing out.
All I can focus on is the flared ridge of his crown, lodged just inside my rim.
A hot, pulsing presence that feels both foreign and familiar.
My hole is clenching, trying to get used to the impossible width.
“Fuck,” Stone breathes out, a long, shaky sigh. “Fuck, that’s… you’re so tight. Even after the plug.” His hands are gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises.
The emptiness is gone. The ache is gone.
In their place is this feeling of being stretched to the absolute limit, the fullness that I was craving.
And it’s so much more intense than the plug.
This is a living thing inside me. I can feel the frantic thrum of his heartbeat through the head of his cock, a steady pulse against my inner walls.
I’m trembling. Can’t stop. Uncontrollable shivers running up and down my spine. My own dick is leaking all over the side of my bed, a steady drip onto the comforter.
Stone starts moving. Just little thrusts. Barely anything. But the drag of his crown against my rim, the sensation of him slowly inching in and out, is maddening.
“That’s the tip, Jay.” His voice is strained. “This is what you wanted, right? Just the tip.”
It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. It’s like being offered a single drop of water when you’re dying of thirst. Those shallow little movements are driving me insane.
“Stone—”
“Yeah?”
“I—” I grip the comforter tighter. My knuckles are white. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong? Thought you said just the tip.”
“I know what I said.”
“So this is good then?” He pulls back, then pushes in that same inch again. “This is enough for you?”
“No.”
“No?”
I turn my head to glare at him over my shoulder. “You know it’s not.”
That smile again. Cocky bastard. “Then what do you want, Jay?”
“More.”
“How much more?” His eyes glitter with a predatory light. “A third of it? Half?”
“Just fucking do it,” I grit out. “All of it.”
“All of it?” He feigns surprise. “You want me to fuck you for real.”
“Yes. Just shut up and do it.”
He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that I feel vibrate through my whole body. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
He slams in.
Not slowly. Not carefully. One powerful, decisive thrust of his hips, and he’s buried to the hilt.
The world whites out. The only thing I can feel is the brutal, burning stretch of my ass trying to accommodate him.
A strangled cry tears from my throat, and I collapse onto my elbows, my face pressing into the rumpled sheets.
“Like this?” He pulls back, then slams in again, another deep, punishing thrust that steals the air from my lungs. “Is this what you want?”
I can’t speak. I can only make garbled, choked sounds as he starts to fuck me in earnest. Long, hard strokes that fill me completely, pull out until I’m empty, then fill me all over again.
The burn recedes, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure that radiates out from my core, making my toes curl.
He’s hitting that spot with every pass. The one the plug teased, his fingers massaged.
But this is so much more. The sheer power and size of him hammering against it is an entirely new level of sensation.
“Look at you,” he grunts, picking up the pace.
The slap of his skin against mine is loud in the small room.
“Taking my dick like you were made for it.” He’s got a fistful of my hair now, pulling my head back.
He’s leaning over me, the sweat-damp jersey clinging to my skin, dragging across my back as he moves.
“All it took was a little piece of plastic to open you right up.” His other hand reaches around and grabs my dick, smearing the precum over the head with his thumb.
“Look at this. Fucking dripping for me. You’re loving this, aren’t you? ”
I am. God help me, I am. I’m being fucked over my own bed by my best friend, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. The surrender, the submission, the sheer, overwhelming physical pleasure, it’s a high I’ve never known.
He’s right. The plug was just an appetizer. A training device. This is the main course. And I’m starving for it. I rock back to meet his thrusts, finally allowing my body to do what it’s been wanting to do all day: enjoying the sensation of being filled.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he groans. “Move that ass for me. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
“God… Stone… I’m so… full…” Each word punches out of me with every hard thrust. He lets go of my hair, both hands locking around my hips to hold me in place as he drives into me. I’m completely at his mercy. Bent to his will.
“Yeah, you’re full,” he pants. “Full of me. You feel so fucking good, man. Tight and hot and wet. It might be hella gay what we’re doing, but damn, it’s the best hole I’ve ever fucked.”
“Why... have we never…” I manage to get out between thrusts.
“Never what?”
“Done... this... before?”
He slows down, grinding deep, making me feel every thick inch of him.
“I dunno, man. Guess we were too busy chasing cheerleaders.” His grip on my hips tightens.
“Stupid. Could’ve been doing this for years.
” He pulls almost all the way out, then slides back in, achingly slow.
The stretch is exquisite. “I thought it would be weird. Gross, even. But this… fuck, this is great.” He punctuates the last word with a sharp thrust that makes his balls slap against mine.
“Me too,” I gasp. “I thought... fuck... I never even considered…” I trail off as he picks up the speed again, the headboard of my bed starting to knock against the wall.
“Me either,” he pants. “But now I know how this feels…”
I lean back against him, letting him support my weight. My head falls back against his shoulder. He’s still wearing his jersey, and the scratchy fabric rubs against my neck. I can feel the sweat soaking through it, seeping into my skin.
“Take it off,” I breathe.
Stone stills for a moment. “What?”
“Your jersey. Take it off.” I want to feel all of him. Skin against skin. I want to erase that last little bit of distance between us.
Without a word, he pulls out. His cock slips from my ass with a wet, obscene sound. I feel a trickle of lube run down the inside of my thigh, and the sudden emptiness is jarring.
I turn around and watch him peel the sweat-soaked jersey over his head.
His muscles are still pumped from practice, a sheen of sweat highlighting every ridge and plane.
His chest is broad, dusted with dark hair that narrows to a trail leading down to the base of his cock, which juts out from a thatch of matching curls.
He throws the jersey on the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes, and he’s just… Stone. My buddy. Fully, achingly naked.
My eyes roam over him, taking in the details I’ve seen a hundred times but never really looked at before.
The small white scar on his shoulder from a particularly nasty tackle freshman year.
The way his left bicep is just a little bigger than his right.
The solid, masculine line of his jaw, now dark with stubble.
I’ve never seen him like this. Not really.
Not with the hunger that’s currently twisting my guts.
“Better?” he asks as he steps closer, his eyes dragging over my naked body.
“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight. “Better.”
He closes the gap and puts a hand on my chest, right over my hammering heart.
His palm is warm and calloused, the texture brushing my nipple.
His other hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my damp hair.
He pulls me in, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. My breath catches.
But he doesn’t. He rests his forehead against mine instead, his nose brushing my cheek.
We’re so close I can feel his breath on my lips, smell the lingering scent of mint from the gum he always chews.
Our cocks are trapped between our bodies, pressing against each other’s stomachs, slick with sweat and precum.
“This is crazy,” he whispers. “Fucking crazy.”
“Tell me about it,” I whisper back. My hands find his waist, my fingers digging into the firm muscle there. I can feel the tension thrumming through him, the same frantic energy that’s coursing through my own veins.
“Why do I feel like I’ve wanted this forever and never knew it?” He sounds genuinely confused.
“I don’t know, man,” I say. Because I don’t. All I know is that the past three years suddenly feel like they’ve been leading up to this exact moment. All those shared showers, those drunken nights, those stupid dares… was it all just foreplay?
“I know this is gonna sound weird,” he says, his thumb stroking the side of my neck. “But I really feel like kissing you right now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His eyes are dark and intense, pupils blown wide. “That’s too much, though, right?”
“I don’t know, man. You were balls-deep in my ass a minute ago. I feel like we’ve moved past ‘too much.’”
“When you put it like that…” He lets out a short, breathy laugh. “But I’m worried if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Just shut up and do it, Stone. For once in your life, stop talking and just do it.”
And then he does.