Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Robbie
The eggnog goes down too easily, and before we’re even through our lunch, I am tanked off my tits. The room is a bit spinny, and Brandon’s face blurs in and out of focus.
We stumble into the front room, where we try and fail to play video games while continuing to drink ourselves stupid. Maybe writing myself off on Christmas Day wasn’t a smart choice, but it’s a whole lot more fun than sitting around the house on my own.
Besides, if I’m drinking, I can’t think about the fact Brandon is single or that I want my mouth on every body of his inch.
Wait.
Inch of his body?
I scrunch my face up and try to wade through my swampy thoughts.
“Dude, your eggnog is lethal.”
I squint toward where Brandon is lying across the couch, arm hanging over the side, while the other is nursing a concerningly full glass that keeps sloshing over the edges. “Good though, right?”
“I’m so drunk I could drink gasoline right now, so your eggnog is one step up from that.”
I try to self-five and totally miss my other hand. “I knew I’d convert you.”
“I think converting is a stretch.”
“You’re totallyyy converted.” I pump my eyebrows at him. “You can kiss me as thank you if you want.”
He studies me for a moment. “You’d love that.”
“Nah, been there, done that.”
“Ohhh, look who’s playing hard to get.”
“I am hard to get. Allll the ladies want me.”
“No, they wanna tame the beast.” Even his words are sounding slurred.
“I am a beast, aren’t I?”
“I was talking about your dick.”
Oooh, let’s do that some more. I reach down to adjust myself, and Brandon’s gaze follows the movement. So I give it an extra squeeze, just for funsies, and try not to get worked up at how hard he’s staring. “No woman can tame this dragon.”
“Needs to be a man, huh?”
“Not sure a guy could tame it either.”
Brandon runs his tongue over his lips, and my whole body heats.
He’s so attractive, even before dipping my toe into the queer paddling pool, I’ve noticed shit like how his hair always sits perfectly and the way his body is photoshoot ready.
I chalked it up to envy over not looking like him and being able to pull chicks like him, but …
fuck. The thought of touching Chad’s dick is whatever. The thought of touching Brandon’s?
My cock is mildly interested, chubbing up enough to press against the crotch of my sweats.
Brandon laughs so hard he slips halfway off the couch. “Did the dragon hear us talking about it, did it?”
“My baby is always ready for attention.”
When Brandon claws his way back upright again, his legs fall over my outstretched ones. The couch isn’t large enough for us both to lie down on, but fucked if either of us cares.
His eyes are hooded when he replies. “What kind of attention does it think it’s getting from me?”
“Just talking about him is enough to awaken the dragon.”
“Stop. Calling your cock the dragon is as bad as calling yourself Rob-dog.”
“If you’d seen it, you’d understand.”
He kicks me, and I swear the room tilts. “You’re so transparent.”
“Your vision messed up too?”
“No, I’m not that drunk.” He sits up, and I can’t tell if he’s swaying or it’s the room. “I know you want me to touch your dick.”
“Do I?”
“You’re practically begging for it.” He flashes me a full-fanged smile.
I push myself up to face him. “Funny, because it almost sounds like you’re begging for it.”
“I would never.”
I eye him and the way he’s leaning forward. Is he leaning forward? Or is it me?
Fucking fuck, why did I drink so much? “What’s wrong, Brando? You wanna kiss me again?”
“About as much as I want my balls forcibly removed.”
“I can do that too, if you ask nicely.”
“You’re obsessed with seeing my dick, I swear.”
“Technically, any old schlong will do,” I say.
“Of course, because why have standards when you can have everyone?”
I crack up laughing at the dumb one-liner I used to pull back in freshman year. “Okay, maybe I’ve gnome—grown up since then.”
“You’ve grown up, but you haven’t matured.”
My grin stretches across my face. “You have no idea how much I’ve grown up.”
“But I’m sure you’re willing to show me, aren’t you?”
“What can I say? I’m a generous guy.”
He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, and I zero in on the movement. It’s hot as fuck. When he lets it go again, it’s darker pink and wet, and I can’t tear my gaze away.
“You, umm …” He sounds sort of breathless. “You’re staring.”
“You want me to be staring.”
“Says who?”
“Says the way you keep licking your lips.”
He does it again. Slower this time and so fucking deliberate. I groan as my dick decides it’s well and truly ready to take over.
“What are you going to do?” he taunts.
“Lick your lips again and you’ll find out.”
At first, nothing.
Then the tip of his pink tongue darts out.
Fucking Brandon.
I all but tackle him onto the couch. He grunts as his back hits the cushion, but then my mouth is there, and I swallow the sound down.
He doesn’t play coy, doesn’t try to fight me; he kisses me back as deep and desperate as I kiss him, and even with my brain moving as sluggishly as it is, the need inside me settles.
His mouth is hot, his kisses hard. It’s both new and exciting and overwhelmingly familiar.
Brandon’s hands knot behind my head, holding me close, tongue surging forward as deep as he can manage. Our teeth knock, my hand bunches in his shirt, while the other grabs his back.
I’m not trying to be precious about this. I’m following how it feels and what I want, and when I lower my body and press against him, all the nerves inside me light up and fucking sing.
I want to feel his skin under my hands, his cock pressed to mine, while he desperately clutches me closer. I love when I can feel how much my partner wants me, and between his hard cock and commanding mouth, Brandon leaves zero doubts in my goddamn mind that he wants this as much as I do.
“This doesn’t mean anything … right?” he manages between mauling my mouth.
“It means we’re taking advantage of college.”
“Experimenting …”
“Having fun …” I add, wanting him to shut up and let me enjoy kissing him.
“It’s all curi—”
My lips attack his neck.
“—osity. Oh. Fuck. Yeah, right there.” Brandon tilts his head, offering his throat up to me, and I suck and nip and kiss my way down to the dip before his shoulder. His skin is warm, stubble rough. Strong hands clutch my shoulders and fill me with sensations I’ve never experienced before.
I want to kiss further. Run my lips over his shoulder to his pec, his abs, his cock.
I’m so turned on by the thought, I’m going cross-eyed, and look at that.
I think I can mark my experiment as a success, because now I’m here, now I’m touching a man and wanting more, I know with total certainty that if he whipped out his cock, I’d choke myself on it.
Though …
I pause in my attack.
This must be what it was like last time.
Freshman year when I hooked up with that guy, I was drunk then as well.
I don’t remember hesitating or overthinking; I only remember being swept up in the moment.
It’s left a lot of blank spaces in my memory.
Blank spaces I’m desperate to fill … and hooking up with Brandon, while I’m half-shitfaced, isn’t the way to do it.
Motherfucker.
I pull back and look down at his lust-drunk expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Goddamn it, even his voice is pure sex. “I think …”
Brandon catches my lip with his teeth, and an honest-to-god growl leaves my mouth. “Don’t start doing that now,” he rasps.
“I think I need to—fuck—we need to stop.”
“W-what?” His gaze slowly sharpens. “Did you change your mind, or …”
“Oh, nah, I’m sure. I’m about ready to tear your clothes off and take advantage of you.”
“Is it taking advantage when I want this as much as you do?” He rolls his hips and drags his long, hard length along my thigh.
My brain short-circuits, and he almost has me giving in. I hurry to scramble off him. “No. Nope. Stop confusing me.”
“Confusing you? One second you’re eating my face, now you want to stop? What’s going on?”
The panic in his voice is amusing. “Relax. It’s not you.”
“Then what …” He tucks his legs up underneath himself.
His lips are swollen, hazel eyes tinged with confusion, and the longer I look at him, the wider my smile grows.
Nerves are a mosh pit in my gut, because not only is Brandon sexy and kisses like a champ, but he also cares.
The present he got? Hot damn. Bros being solid bros is frat as fuck—it’s not like he bought me a six-pack of beer.
“I’ve been with one guy, and this whole mess is because I don’t remember it. I was drunk off my face then, and I’m pretty sloppy now.”
“We’ve been drinking, but it’s not like we don’t know what’s happening here.”
“Hot as hell, am I right?”
“Then what are you doing?”
I lean in and kiss him again, immediately realizing my mistake when I struggle to pull back. “If we hook up, I want to be sure I’ll remember it.”
“Dude, you really think I’d let you forget?”
“I’m counting on burning it into my memory.” I stand up and stumble to the other couch. “Tomorrow.”
He lets out a long-suffering groan. “How do you know I’ll even be interested tomorrow?”
“You better be, brother.”
Brandon’s stare trails over me, and I’m worried for a second that he’s about to say fuck it all and join me. But he doesn’t. Thank fuck. Because if he touches me, I’m not strong enough to stop him.
“You can’t call me brother when we were kissing like a minute ago.”
“Why not, brother?”
He aims a cushion at my head. “It’s weird, dude.”
“But you are my brother.”
“I’m your frat brother.”
I tuck my hands behind my head and relax into the backrest. “Either way, tomorrow I’m going to see your dick.”