Chapter 32
Trent
I was right. No one believes we’re platonic friends now that they’ve seen me jerking Magnus off.
Not that what I did could be considered a jerk, or even a really good handy.
That was sex. Plain and simple, but not vanilla.
The nipple play puts it in the realm of French vanilla, at least, but no matter what you call it, I played with him, drove him wild, and made him orgasm, and that was not a jerk off session.
The comments have escalated over the last few weeks since we posted that, and while we have posted other videos, each of us individually, and one more a few nights ago of me touching Magnus, the first video of us together has been our most popular video by far.
Magnus is going to see these comments, if he hasn’t already, and then we’re going to have to strategize, because coming out as a couple is something we have to do eventually, and we have that video scripted, but it’s not on the agenda for more than a year.
Sometimes I think for all the brains between us, we’re complete morons.
We probably should have planned for our own interpersonal development and growth and factored that into our game plan.
However, that being true, the fact is that we’re making enough month to month to outright buy a house now so that we can move in at the end of the semester, and that was the whole point of this thing; we’re supposed to be working enough to support ourselves as we finish school.
I’m not going to be an adult content creator my entire life.
I don’t plan to keep making content after I get myself into a professional job in my field.
This is a temporary financial situation, and the fact is, we’re well beyond the growth curve we projected for ourselves.
We could speed everything up. That is an option we have right now.
If we go by the projected growth curve and where we’re supposed to be, we should be planning our first time with penetration.
Magnus should be using plugs regularly in preparation of that.
Ok, that thought makes me hotter than I should be while sitting in the student center examining the data for our channel. I’m hard, and although there are any number of ways to see my hard cock all over the internet, that’s not something I need to be showing off in a public space like this.
Adjusting in my seat, I open up a tab to my assignment for my actuary class and force myself to concentrate on that. Nothing better than homework to dull the low-level horniness that plagues me every hour of every day.
I’m on the last problem when the chair across from me moves, and I look up to find Luis pulling the chair out and sitting.
He’s on the short list of people that I’m not a fan of, but we’ve been friendly until he revealed how he feels about Magnus, and he doesn’t know about my conflicted feelings yet.
I haven’t decided if I should tell him to fuck off or not.
Magnus is a lot more forgiving than I am.
“Hey,” he greets me, as he unzips his backpack. “You ready to go over the lab results?”
I blink in confusion before remembering that we were supposed to be meeting here to do this.
I’d forgotten, and it’s literally only by chance that I’m in the right place at the right time.
He’s the graduate TA tutor that we can sign up with to go over our individual results in the criminology lab, and I signed up for tutoring once a month.
I look at my phone, and yep, there’s the silent reminder of the meeting right there in the notifications.
“You mind if I finish this last problem first so I don’t have to switch study modes twice?” Criminology and statistics do not occupy the same brain space for me.
Luis waves me on. “Sure, man. I’ll get some reading in.”
“Thanks,” I say, and get back to my statistics. The assignment isn’t difficult, but it is very time consuming, and it takes me fifteen minutes to finish the one I’m working on. When I’m done, I put that away and bring up the criminology work. “I’m ready.”
Luis nods and pulls up the data on his laptop so he can review it while we talk about my project.
We spend an hour going over the data, and he offers insight on how to present it, and then we spend the next hour putting together a presentation.
I can admit by the time we’re done that his insights were extremely useful, but my stomach is trying to eat itself and growls loud enough to be heard over the din of the student center, and that makes me less than inclined to be gracious about it.
Luis chuckles. “Hungry? You want to get dinner? It’s meatloaf night.”
Meatloaf is the most popular night of the month in our student cafeteria. Somehow the cooks have managed to capture the entire meat-eating student body with meatloaf. My mouth is already watering, but eating dinner with Luis isn’t my first choice.
“I was going to text Magnus,” I prevaricate, because while that is true, we don’t usually eat dinner together on Tuesdays.
Luis shrugs, but there’s a hint of disgust in his expression. “See if he wants to join us,” he says carelessly.
“You don’t like him,” I point out levelly. “I don’t think he deserves to have to eat with someone who dislikes him as much as you do.”
Luis’s expression smoothes out. “I’m trying to see what you see in him because we’re friends.”
“Sometimes people’s personalities just clash, and there’s no reason to force yourself to be friends with them,” I reply, but I actually appreciate the effort he’s putting in.
“I know, but I still want to try,” he replies as my phone buzzes.
I pick it up, reading the text message preview from the unknown number.
You never should have touched him.
Before I can reply, the sound of a gunshot rings out, the window shatters, and my textbook flies off the table all at once.
It takes me a second to figure out what’s happening, and then I hit the floor with Luis on top of me.
Another gunshot rings out, and I hear the bullet hit the table where we were just sitting.
Luis grabs my shoulders and rolls me away from where we are, taking me out of the line of fire and behind one of the sofas nearby.
He finally rolls off me, staying low. I hear sirens in the distance over the sound of my panting breaths, and then Luis whispers, “Thank fuck,” just as another gunshot rings out and a hole appears in the couch above us.
“Shit!” we both exclaim, scrambling in opposite directions.
I land behind another sofa, but in the moments that follow that quick scramble, there isn’t another gunshot and the sirens get close enough that I think the shooter must have either run away or been caught. Not that I’m stupid enough to move until I see an actual police officer.
My phone buzzes, startling me. It’s still in my hand. I don't even know how that’s possible.
Magnus: Where are you?
Shaking, it takes me several attempts to get the words to make sense.
Me: Student Center. Getting shot at by our stalker, I think.
Magnus takes several seconds to respond.
Magnus: The police have the shooter in custody.
Relief floods me, and I look around at all the people currently hiding with me.
There’s so many of us. “Is anyone hurt?” I call out, loud enough to be heard through the whole space.
“Professor Lancaster says the police have the shooter in custody, but don’t move until we see an actual police officer. ”
“I think I caught a bullet,” Luis says, and I scramble so I can see him. There’s a little pool of blood spreading out from under him.
Me: We need an ambulance.
“Police!” The shout comes from the entry.
“We need an ambulance!” I call without moving.
As soon as they hear that, the officers rush into action.
They get the paramedics to Luis, the rest of us are evacuated, and the interviews to gather witness statements begin.
Eventually, they get to me. They look at the text message that preempted the shooting and get my permission to get the records from my service provider, and after what feels like hours, they start winding down their questions.
I don’t even know the person who shot Luis.
It’s just some middle-aged guy who works in the intake department of the university, and he doesn’t say that he was shooting at me specifically.
It could just be a coincidence that he decided to shoot up the student center just after I got the random text message.
Magnus shows up at the end of my interview with the police officer and tangles our fingers together as I finish up. The officer clocks the move, but there’s no sign that he’s a homophobic prick, and he shakes my hand before telling me that I can go.
I turn to Magnus and hug him, breathing him in for a minute before saying, “Luis caught a bullet.”
Magnus stiffens and his arms around me tighten. “I’m such an asshole,” he huffs. “All I can think of is how grateful I am that it wasn't you.”
I hug him tighter. Maybe in a few years, I’ll be able to find the humor in that, but right now, I’m also the asshole who’s grateful it wasn’t me.