Chapter 8
Alfie was enjoying a rare night to himself.
Or not enjoying exactly. He felt restless, like he ought to be doing something.
Homework, probably. He was caught up in his classes because he was a quick study, but he wasn’t all that focused on them.
Servicing the guys took a lot of his time and energy, and feeling horny and unsatisfied took the rest.
This wasn’t the college experience his parents were paying for him to have, that was for sure.
It wasn’t the college experience he’d expected to have either, but only because he’d never imagined anything this amazingly good.
He only had two complaints, the most pressing of which was never getting to come.
Being milked was all right. Now that he’d gotten used to it, he’d stopped hating it so much.
The trick was to relax and let it happen, to accept a slow drip in place of an explosive climax, to accept that Coach knew best, to accept his place, which was to serve, not perv.
When he accepted all that, he was for the most part happy.
The other thing missing—the more important thing, if he was being honest about it—was an emotional connection.
Max was gorgeous and Bruiser was powerful and the five guys who shared a house were a lively, boisterous bunch who kept coming up with new ways to use him.
They’d started out by sending him from room to room to blow them each individually, but they’d quickly progressed from there. Last night they’d run a train on him.
Alfie sat at his little desk, the one he’d once licked Max’s come off of, and pretended to study his Differential Equations textbook while really he relived the thrill of taking one cock after another up his ass and down his throat in a succession so unending that he’d have sworn there were twenty men living in that house instead of five.
In fact, somewhere in there he was pretty sure he’d seen some strangers, as if the guys had started calling over random non-team friends.
Which, maybe they had. Alfie wasn’t going to complain about it.
Not when he’d been filled so good and left so horny.
If there’d been another dozen, it wouldn’t have been too many.
Maybe he had a problem, a sort of addiction.
It was like he couldn’t be sated. But that was exactly it.
He never got sated because he never had a climax.
And because afterward he never got anything except sent home. Not even a pat on the back.
Alfie wanted kisses. Cock, yes. Lots of cock. But kisses and cuddles too and someone who knew his name.
He sighed. Looked at his phone. Wished someone would call him.
Went back to his textbook. Differential Equations, that was where his future lay.
Not with those guys who only thought of him as a cum dump, no matter how hot they were.
He squeezed his cage, telling his dick it wasn’t getting any tonight (not that it ever got any) and tried one more time to think about differential equations.
Then his phone buzzed, thank the merciful heavens.
It wasn’t a number he recognized, and the person texting didn’t identify himself, only asked if Alfie could come over.
Alfie almost texted back asking who it was, but what did it matter?
Instead he asked for an address, which turned out to be a dorm across campus, somewhere he hadn’t been before.
He sent an ETA, then hopped in the shower real quick in case the guy wanted to fuck and dressed in his usual uniform of a jock and some clothes that could be either discarded or worked around, depending on how the guy felt.
Some guys preferred to see as little of him as possible, others didn’t want cloth in their way. Alfie just did whatever.
He knocked on the door to the room number he’d been given and waited what seemed like an unreasonably long time for his knock to be answered.
Unless this room was a lot bigger than his, it couldn’t take more than a second to cross it.
When the door finally opened, it was only a crack.
A hand reached through the crack, grabbed his wrist, and used it to yank him inside, smashing his shoulder against the door jamb in the process.
“Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder as he looked around. The room was as small as he’d expected it to be, laid out almost exactly like his and currently containing exactly one person: Ryan.
“Sorry. I just didn’t want…”
“Anyone to see me?” Alfie sighed. “I told you practically the whole team calls me. You don’t gotta worry about them thinking you’re gay.”
“I know. I just…”
Ryan was super worried about people thinking he was gay, Alfie could tell. It didn’t make sense. Unless.
“You are gay, huh?”
It took Ryan a while to nod, but eventually he did.
Alfie sat down on Ryan’s narrow bed, which was neatly made, unlike any other bed in any other dorm room he’d been in. Alfie could see Ryan was trying hard to control every aspect of his life in an attempt to somehow control his sexuality. And it was eating him up.
He patted the mattress next to him, indicating Ryan should sit too but Ryan continued to lurk over by his desk, a desk he’d presumably never licked come off of. Which was a shame. Alfie wanted to help him.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“You told me those other guys call you.”
“Yeah, because they don’t care. They’re just using me. Coach said they should.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything to them.”
“It would mean something to me.”
“I know. I understand. It means something to me too.”
“So you’re really gay? This isn’t just Coach forcing you or whatever?”
“Nah, no one’s forcing me. Those guys are hot. I want them to fuck me. Don’t you think they’re hot?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Really? Or you’re just saying that because you’re freaked out about it.”
Ryan shrugged. “A little of both, I guess. But mostly they’re not my type.” He was silent for a while, fiddling with a pencil on his desk. “My type is more like you.”
“Me?” Alfie squeaked. “I’m not hot.”
“I think you are.” Ryan didn’t exactly deliver the compliment to Alfie’s face.
He was much too busy looking at that pencil.
But the words made Alfie warm anyway. None of the other guys thought he was hot.
He was nothing to them except a stand-in for the women they couldn’t bother to cajole into putting out, one step up from a masturbation sleeve or their own fists.
“If you think I’m hot, you should fuck me.”
Ryan glanced up then. Only for a second, but his face was so hopeful it took Alfie’s breath away.
“I won’t tell anyone. Promise. No one knows I’m here. No one needs to know. This is just between us. Guys like us gotta stick together.”
How he had the courage to put himself in the same box as Ryan, he didn’t know.
He and Ryan were nothing alike. Ryan was handsome and tall and fit and lean and athletic, and Alfie was just…
a vaguely geeky gay guy. But they were both gay, and he meant what he’d said.
He would never out Ryan to the team. Never.
The vehemence of his promise must have convinced Ryan because he finally came over and sat on the bed.
“What do you want to do?” Alfie asked him.
“You want me to go down on you or fuck me or… or whatever.” He hoped Ryan wouldn’t pick a spanking because his ass was still tender from the last time Bruiser had worked him over, but if Ryan wanted to spank him, he would find a way to deal.
Because he needed to give Ryan anything and everything he wanted.
In solidarity but also because gosh, he was pretty.
The more Alfie looked at him, the prettier he got.
“Can I kiss you?”
Alfie must have looked as surprised as he felt—the guys had done a lot to him this season, but none of them had done that—because Ryan immediately tried to take it back.
“Never mind, not if you don’t want.”
“No, I do want. I want it a lot.”
Ryan just sat there as if Alfie hadn’t said yes, and eventually Alfie realized it was because Ryan didn’t know how to go about it.
“You ever kissed a guy?”
Ryan shook his head.
“It’s nice. You’ll like it.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against Ryan’s.
He was accustomed to his partner taking charge but when Ryan didn’t do anything, he raised a hand to the back of Ryan’s head and used it to hold him in place so he could deepen the kiss.
He got his tongue between Ryan’s lips and then Ryan did take over, all speed and fervor, mashing Alfie against him and thrusting his tongue into Alfie’s mouth with wild enthusiasm.
The initial onslaught was overwhelming—unfocused and tongue-heavy—but Ryan was a graceful guy, so it didn’t take him long to get his bearings.
Soon the two of them were making out like they were regulars at it, laid out on the bed grinding their cocks together.
Or at least they would be grinding their cocks together if Alfie’s wasn’t in a cage.
Ryan didn’t seem to notice the difference though. He was rutting up against Alfie like he was about to come just like this, which would be fine except it was all too fast. This was so nice Alfie didn’t want it to end, and there was so much more Ryan could try.
He got a hand down Ryan’s track pants and used it to stroke him but also to hold him off a bit so that the kissing stopped and they could catch their breath.
“Is this all you want to do? Just kiss and frot?”
“Frot?”
“Rub off on each other. It’s called frotting.” He still had a grip on Ryan’s cock, squeezing along the base in case Ryan was about to blow. “Or I could jerk you. Or suck you. Have you ever had a blowjob?”
Ryan nodded.
“Oh.” He’d hoped to be Ryan’s first.
“A girl once,” Ryan said. “I didn’t really… it took a long time. I think she hated it. Or was mad about how long it was taking. I don’t know. It was her idea in the first place.”
“Did it take a long time because she was bad at it?”
Ryan shrugged “I don’t know what good would feel like. But I think it’s because she was a girl.”
Alfie nodded. He couldn’t imagine having a girl go down on him.
Very few people had gone down on him at all, truth be told, since it usually seemed to end up the other way around, but what little oral stimulation he’d been given, he’d enjoyed the hell out of.
But his partners had been men, of course.
“I could show you what good would feel like.”
Ryan smiled. “And then I could do it to you?”
Ryan had never come in Coach’s office while Alfie was being milked. He must not know about the cage, and Alfie felt shy about telling him. He’d been an idiot to allow his dick to be locked up. And to continue to allow it. Did Ryan think the other guys were reciprocating?
“Usually it’s just the one way,” he told Ryan. “That’s how Coach wants it. I’m here to serve, not… get served.”
“Oh, okay.” Ryan sounded disappointed, which was wild. Imagine being disappointed about not being able to suck Alfie’s dick. Alfie really wished he could let him do it, but he would have to think of some other way to show Ryan a good time.