Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Robbie
I’ve felt like someone’s been taking a jackhammer to my head all damn day, and the second I flop back onto my bed, I stop fighting it.
I’m motherfucking sick. This is obviously the universe’s way of fucking with me because Brandon looks goddamn incredible today.
I can’t work out if he’s done something different, or I’m wearing O goggles, but my sexy little fap brother had my dick standing at attention.
The only part of me with any energy left.
He’s right though. Hooking up probably wouldn’t be sexy or smart. I can barely breathe through my nose, so blow jobs are out, I can’t kiss him, and as much as I want to suggest he reverse cowboy this bitch and take a ride, I think he’s gonna need some practice before he’s ready for this rodeo.
I sink into my mattress and pray he hurries up with the drugs.
When he finally slips inside my room and locks the door, he’s wearing his coat.
“You going somewhere?”
“Nope.” He sets the bowl he’s carrying aside, then opens his coat and lets it fall to the floor.
All I can do is gape at him.
He’s wearing next to nothing. And what he is wearing …
Holy goddamn fraternity ancestors, no man has ever looked so hot.
It’s a nurse’s outfit that consists of a tiny white skirt, attached by a small strip of white material up to the bra. Then he slides a white headband with a red cross down over his floppy blond hair.
I remember to close my mouth. “Bro my god …”
He blows me a kiss. The damn thing looks obscene on his broad, muscled body, and my cock has forgotten we’re sick because he’s begging me to get on that. And I want to. I really want to.
But my head hurts, and now I’m lying down, the thought of getting up again is too much.
“Nurse Blakely at your service.” His deep voice is pure sex.
“I’m already sick. Why are you torturing me?”
He knows he is too. His hazel eyes are alight with mischief, and while I want to be pissed that he’d tease me like this, seeing him having fun is too irresistible to get annoyed over. Brandon rattles a pill bottle as he crosses to my bed. He shakes two out onto his palm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I’m simply being a top-notch cumpanion and looking after my patient. Now, are you going to be a good Rob-dog, or am I going to have to grab the restraints?”
A desperate sound leaves me. “Good. I’ll be good.”
“Then open up.”
My mouth drops, and Brandon pops the pills and his fingers inside. He strokes over my tongue, pressing back until I gag.
“Good reflexes,” he praises before holding up the water. “Now drink. We have to get your fluids back up—before I make you lose them all again.”
“T-today?” I follow the question up with a sneeze so hard my head flies forward. When I look up again, Brandon’s cringing.
“Gotta say, you’re making it really hard for me to stay in character.”
“I’m leaning into the sick patient part.”
“Spraying snot over the room isn’t what I meant about body fluids.” He shudders, and it seems to take real effort to get his face to relax again.
I want to defend myself, but I feel too pathetic. “Look after me.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” His stare rakes over me. “Now, let’s get you comfortable.”
I’m about to ask what he means when he reaches down and pushes my sweater up and over my head. A shudder races through me. My skin comes alive.
Brandon reaches for my undershirt and pushes that up too, his fingers gliding over my skin, and I lift my arms to make it easy for him. With him leaning over, the top of the costume gapes down, revealing his perfect pecs. I want to touch them, to trace his nipples with my tongue.
Even without asking, I know he won’t let me. So I resist. Fight the need to pull him on top of me and drive him crazy. I let him do whatever he wants to, trying to ignore my cock that’s getting needier by the minute.
Once my top half is bare, he moves on to my pants. He slides them slowly down each leg, scraping his nails over the insides of my thighs, then running both hands up my calves.
I’m only in my boxer briefs, and I should be freezing, but his attention on me has my blood running hot.
“You’re being a very good patient,” he says, voice husky. He’s hard, tenting the front of his skirt. We ignore it the same way he’s ignoring my dick.
Brandon lifts my leg and presses a kiss to my ankle, my calf, the inside of my knee before his lips run along my thigh. “And good patients should be rewarded.”
My hips lift off the bed. “Yes. Please.”
He drops my leg and stands, crossing to my closet. “Let’s get you dressed first though.”
“What?”
“Once you’re dressed, I’ll make you dinner and tea, and then we’re going to have a little movie night.”
I groan. “Why do you hate me?”
“This is for your own good.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m looking after you.”
I grip my cock. “You should be looking after this.”
His taunting mask slips as he huffs a laugh. “Don’t make me restrain you.”
I release my cock and sigh. “This is going to be a long, painful night for me, isn’t it?”
“Probably. But the important part is that I have fun.”
And maybe he’s only joking, but it’s true. Seeing him enjoy himself gives me more pleasure than it should. “Fine,” I grumble. “Do your worst.”
“You’re going to regret that.”
“Like you can make my cock any harder than it already is.”
He smirks, and I realize my mistake a split second before he bends over. The skirt rides up, and the man is going commando.
“I fucking hate you,” I say, unable to tear my eyes from his ass.
“And yet, you’re stuck with me.” He walks back over, carrying a stack of my clothes. “Exclusively.”
“Huh?”
“While we’re hooking up. Cumpanions, or dick dudes, or whatever you want to call us. It’s just us, okay? While we figure out where our heads are at.”
I’m so in shock at his request, I can’t answer it.
Do I want to keep hooking up with Brando?
Abso-fucking-lutely. Exclusively? That’s harder to answer.
There’s zero desire whatsoever to find anyone else, which is weird for me, and I love the idea that Brandon won’t be seeing anyone else, but …
I’ve never done the one-person thing. Not even casually like this.
I’m not sure I have it in me, even though I picture myself settling down one day.
And if I fuck up? It’s not just a fap brother I’ll lose.
Brandon is … important. That can’t change.
I run a hand over my face.
“It’s okay if you’re unsure,” he says.
“Nah, it’s not that.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself? Gotta tell you, man, that’s not in Nurse Blakely’s job description.”
The bastard gets a laugh out of me, even as my gut is in knots. “It’s … a lot.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound it. “Those are my terms though. If you think you’ve experimented enough with me, then go find some other dudes to suck your dick. But I won’t be hooking up with you while I’m worried about you comparing my sloppy-ass blow jobs with some professional deep-throater.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“Don’t care, Robbie.”
Fucking Brandon. Mitigating risks even where there’s none to worry about. Maybe some gay guy could deep-throat me like a porn star, but that isn’t nearly as appealing as him kneeling, gagging, eyes watering as he gives it his all. “You know I’ve never been with only one person.”
“I do. Which is why I’m laying it out now.”
“Calling me a slut, Brando?”
“If the empty jumbo pack of extra-large condoms fits …”
I kick him, and he chuckles.
“You don’t have to answer me right now. You’re sick, and we’re fucking around, and it’s all good. But I want an answer soonish. Think you can do that?”
“Yes.” It’s the least I can do for him, even if it means a shitload of thinking ahead for me.
“Now relax,” he says before grabbing the bowl he carried in with him.
“What’s that?”
“Can’t let you go to sleep without a bath, can we?”
I let out a body-shuddering cough. “Yeah, at this point, I’m not moving.”
“Lucky you don’t have to.” He sets the bowl down beside my bed, revealing the soapy water inside.
“What are you …”
“Shh …” He reaches in and pulls out a washcloth that he squeezes the water out of. “Just relax.”
I feel like I should object, but as Brandon starts dragging the cloth over my skin, washing every inch, I can’t because my tongue feels too big for my mouth. So I watch him. He takes his time, making sure he doesn’t miss a spot.
He’s concentrating hard, eyes locked on my body, and every nerve ending in me is vibrating under his attention. My neck, my face, both arms and legs. He washes my chest and stomach, paying extra attention to the places my boxer briefs meet skin.
“Oh no,” he says.
“Huh?” I’m losing touch with reality.
“Here I am trying to clean you, and all you’re doing is making a mess.”
“What do you mean?”
He grabs my cock and sweeps his thumb over the spot of precum staining my briefs. I swallow hard, hit with both relief and so much want.
Brandon tsks. “You were being so good for me.”
“I was.” I shift my thighs open. “I am.”
“Making a mess isn’t being a good patient.”
“I can’t help it. You haven’t cleaned there yet. And heads up, it’s about to get a whole lot messier if you don’t help me fix my problem.”
His grin is evil as he lifts my waistband and works my boxer briefs down my thighs. “What kind of nurse would I be if I didn’t attend to your needs?”
I’m so close to begging him to get on with it when he reaches down to dip the washcloth in the water again. He doesn’t drain it as much this time, and when he wraps it around my cock, it’s like a warm, wet hug. His hand squeezes tight, and I drop my head back on a loud pant.
“Yes. Fuck. More.”
His hand stills. “Is that any way to talk to your nursemaid?”
I almost kick him out, but I’m too turned on. Bastard. “Please, Nurse Blakely. Help me.”
“Better.” He sets a fast pace, stroking over my needy cock with the exact roughness I need. I don’t know if he can sense how close I am, or it’s what he would have done for himself, but it’s goddamn perfect.
I can barely breathe, but nothing is going to stop me from blowing my load. Except when I fuck up into his fist, Brandon stops again and presses on my hip.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing. Let me do my job.”
I force myself still, and it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
To his credit, he’s nailing this position.
It makes me want to get sick more often so he’ll take care of me like this.
Over and over. He jerks me hard, fast, and the force of keeping myself still is ramming my pleasure home.
Tingles race down my spine, my balls draw up, and I shudder, right on the edge.
Then Brandon’s hand is gone, and his mouth seals around my cock.
The change from cooling water to his warm, tight mouth sets me off. My cock jerks, unloading into his mouth, and he swallows me down like he’s been sucking dick all his life.
I sag against the bed.
“Okay,” I manage through heavy breathing. “I’m relaxed now.”
He laughs and dries me off, then helps me into warm clothes. His cock is still hard, and I reach for it.
Brandon bats my hand away. “I’m looking after you, remember?”
“Let me return the favor.”
“Nope. You’re sick.” He pulls the wool shirt he got me down and smooths it over my gut. “I’m going to go and take care of myself, make you dinner, then we’ll watch some … educational videos.”
I scrunch up my face. “Educational?”
He picks up his coat to put back on. “Can you trust me?”
“I dunno. An animal documentary, sure. Climate change details, not so much.”
“Noted.”
I mourn the loss of his nurse’s outfit as he pulls on his coat. “No fair.”
“Yeah, I’m not wearing this thing all night. It’s way too tight.”
Then he grabs the bowl and ducks out into the hall. I’m left with silence, feeling warm and cozy, wrapped in happiness.
The only thing unsettling me is his request that we don’t see anyone else.
Not because I don’t want that.
But because until he said it, it hadn’t occurred to me that was already what I had in mind. We’re experimenting. It’s fun. I hadn’t thought through any specific plan, but I guess I’d already assumed we were going through this together.
So it should be an easy thing to say yes to.
Right?
A few weeks or so of fooling around? Easy orgasms? Fun? Because sex should always be fun.
Whenever someone has suggested booty calls and repeat hookups in the past, I ran hard and fast the other way.
We’re in college. There are thousands of people out there I haven’t even met yet, and once the year is up, we’ll all be disappearing to other sides of the country anyway. Why get tied down and have to deal with all that mess?
A large part of me wants to remind him that keeping things casual is the way to go.
So why am I holding back?