Chapter Six - The Rematch
CHAPTER SIX
The Rematch
The next day, I slept in until one in the afternoon. The previous night, I hadn’t fallen asleep until three. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, and when I couldn’t sleep, I whipped out my phone and started googling stuff.
What does it mean when you come in front of another guy?
What does it mean when another guy coming makes you want to come too?
What does it mean when you find your roommate/arch-nemesis sort of attractive? Especially when he has his pants off and looks turned on?
Does jerking off with a guy make me gay?
I must have searched up questions for an hour, and spent another hour reading about similar stories on Reddit.
It was a bit concerning how all the “I thought I was straight” stories finished with the storytellers getting fucked.
But that wouldn’t happen to me. There was no way in hell I was letting Taylor fuck me. That wasn’t even remotely on the table.
In fact, last night we didn’t even touch each other. So there was no reason to worry.
Eventually, I got out of bed and had a long shower. The hot water quickly relaxed me. Weirdly enough, I felt energised, despite my awful sleep and anxious thoughts.
It must have been last night’s orgasm. It was pretty spectacular — I hadn’t come like that in a while.
I dried off and got changed into a shirt and some shorts. I was starving, and stepped into the main room, ready to make myself a large breakfast.
I held my breath as I stepped into the living room, expecting Taylor to be there. But…he wasn’t.
I let out a breath. Something almost like disappointment started to fill me, but I pushed that away.
No. Don’t think about Taylor, and definitely don’t think about last night.
Pretend that it never happened.
I didn’t see Taylor all of Saturday. I didn’t see him on Sunday either. Then it was Monday and the semester officially started.
I woke up early, and since I was bursting with energy, I decided to go on a jog around campus. The morning sun was warm on my face, and there was a faint breeze that kept me cool.
Afterwards, I showered, ate breakfast and headed to my first lecture. I arrived there fifteen minutes early, sat dead centre in the lecture hall and…
And then I had it. My first lecture. It was fine, mostly administrative stuff about assignments and classes and who to email if I had any questions. The lecturer seemed enthusiastic, which was good.
The rest of the day went by similarly. I got lunch and finished my last class by 4. Feeling a bit tired, I returned to my room and watched some YouTube to kill time.
Around 6, I decided to make dinner. I headed out to the kitchenette and started cooking some pasta when the front door swung open.
Taylor stepped inside and looked at me.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.” His eyes lowered to the stove where I was boiling water. Then he walked away to his room. I listened for the slam of the door, but to my surprise, it didn’t. Instead, he kept his door open. A few minutes later, I understood why.
He walked out and stopped in front of me, on the other side of the kitchen island. He had changed into loose clothing, and wore a ginormous t-shirt that practically swallowed him. It made him look almost cute.
“What are you cooking?”
“Pasta. Obviously.”
“I’ll have a bowl, thanks.” He flopped onto the couch.
“Hey!” I said. “You can’t expect dinner from me. If anything, you’re the one who should be cooking for me.”
He raised a brow.
“You lost the competition. You’re my slave now, remember?”
“Right,” he said, sinking into the couch, looking unbothered despite the fact that I owned him for the rest of the year. “I’ve been thinking. That competition doesn’t count.”
“What?” I was so outraged, I dropped my wooden spoon into the pan of pasta sauce. “What are you talking about? I won fair and square. You’re just pulling this crap because you lost —”
“Hear me out,” he interrupted. “We said it was a dirty talk competition. Not an act-like-a-camboy competition.”
My cheeks burned. I didn’t want to think about the fact I’d pinched my nipples and moaned like a slut, in front of another guy no less. For the past few days I’d been very determined not to think about the whole affair at all.
“There was no rule specifying I couldn’t touch myself.
The only rule was that I couldn’t touch my…
my dick.” I stumbled over the words. Sometimes I couldn’t believe what I was talking about, with Taylor King.
We’d sat on the couch. He’d been inches from me.
I’d watched him cum. And it had been the hottest—
“The fact that it’s called a dirty talk competition should make the rules obvious enough,” Taylor said. “Or are you such an idiot that you need everything spelled out?”
“If it was so obvious that I was breaking the rules, why didn’t you say anything at the time?” I demanded.
He tapped his fingertips against the arm of the couch. He had long fingers with neatly trimmed nails. “I was…distracted.”
“Distracted?” I echoed. “Ha! You were on the verge of —”
“The point is,” he interrupted, “the other night doesn’t count. And even if you didn’t break the rules, it was only the first round.”
“Hold the hell up,” I said. “We said nothing about rounds.”
He was acting like a child in kindergarten, the kind who’d lost rock paper scissors, then suddenly claim it was best of three. I wasn’t falling for it.
“Maybe I forgot to mention it,” Taylor said. “But it’s common sense. Sex isn’t just about dirty talk. At some point, you have to actually reach out and touch your partner.” His lip curled. “Or didn’t you know that…virgin?”
“I’m not a virgin!” I yelled. “I made you cum. I won. End of story.” I picked up my wooden spoon — thankfully the handle hadn’t gotten dirty — and started stirring the pasta sauce again.
“Besides,” I added after a minute. “How exactly would we continue this competition? We’re both guys, and it’s not like I can show off my skills with you. ”
“Why not?” Taylor asked calmly. “You didn’t have any trouble talking dirty to me. Telling me this intricate story of how you would get down on your knees and —”
“Shut up!” I realised my hand was shaking and forced it to still.
“Look, I don’t know about you, but I’ve only had sex with women.
” Lies. All lies. “Therefore, I’m experienced with women.
I don’t know the first thing about gay sex.
And anyway,” I hurried on, “there’s no way I’m touching you.
I wouldn’t even hold your hand. You’re disgusting. ”
“Hm.”
“Hm?” I echoed. “That’s all you have to say in response?”
“Listen, Archie,” Taylor said, straightening up, so he was no longer slouching against the couch.
“I’ve only had sex with women too. And, believe me, the thought of rolling around in bed with you disgusts me just as much as it does you.
But this way, the competition will be fair and square.
Neither of us will have practised doing it with a man before, so we’ll be on an equal playing field. ”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I almost exploded.
“The whole point of this competition is to see who’s more skilled, which is partly due to past experience.
Putting us on an “equal playing field” as you call it totally negates the whole point.
Stop talking shit. I thought someone as clever as you would be able to make up a half decent excuse, but no, you’re just making up random crap to keep me playing, because you don’t want to face the fact that you lost. You lost because you came to the sight of me playing with my chest. Now isn’t that pathetic? ”
Before, Taylor had looked calm and nonchalant. Now his eyes were fiery. “Admit you broke the rules.”
I rolled my eyes, tired of this. “Fine, fine, I broke the ‘rules’ even though they weren’t properly laid out because this competition thing is stupid.
If you’re so sad about losing, let’s just forget it happened.
The competition didn’t count, and you don’t have to be my slave anymore.
” I returned my attention to my pasta, stirring more aggressively than I needed to.
I wanted to finish cooking, eat in my room, and ignore Taylor for the rest of the year.
I should’ve seen this coming. There was no way Taylor would actually have become my slave.
Hell, if I was the one who lost, I’d make paper thin excuses too.
“No,” Taylor said. “Let’s play again.”
“Hell no,” I said, without looking up.
“What can I say to make you agree?” His voice was slow and dangerous.
“Nothing,” I snapped. The pasta sauce was finished, so I turned off the heat and poured it into a bowl. “I don’t want to play with you. Especially because I know you won’t hold up your end of the bargain if I win.”
Taylor gritted his teeth. “I will,” he said.
I laughed at that, which only made him look more pissed.
“Listen,” he said. “The stakes were too high last time. Forget the bedroom, forget me being a slave for the whole year. Let’s make it that whoever wins will be the other person’s slave for a night. A single night. Now that’s not so scary, is it?”
“I’m not falling for this,” I said. “If you lose, you’ll just make up some loophole to say the competition didn’t count.”
“No, this time it will count.” He said it so emphatically, it took me aback.
I searched for a way to ease the tension. “Be honest,” I said with a coy look. “You just want an excuse to touch me, don’t you?”
I was trying to rile him up, but instead, he reddened.
And I couldn’t be completely sure it was from anger. And that…that was interesting.
“No,” he snarled. “I just want to expose you for the virgin you are.”
But his cheeks were flushed.
Suddenly, I saw the perfect way to get one over Taylor. Yes, I had won the previous competition, but I didn’t really care about the prize of him being my slave. It was more about the satisfaction of winning, as well as confirming my right to the big bedroom.
But this was one of the few times I’d seen him unbalanced. Discomposed.
I wanted to take this opportunity. I wanted to crush him. To make him feel as inferior as he made me feel.
I thought over what he’d said. An equal playing field. That meant that this time, my lack of experience wouldn’t put me at a disadvantage.
I could win. I’d won last time, hadn’t I?
“Alright,” I said. “One final competition. But the rules have to be rock-solid. No loopholes, and no take backs.”
The fire in Taylor’s eyes disappeared, replaced with ice-cold nonchalance. He leaned back on the couch with a lazy smile. “Done. But Archie? Don’t get your hopes up. Because I’m going to win.”