Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zeke
If Charles thought he was going to embarrass any of these guys, he’s going to be sorely disappointed, because pink tutus are basically Robbie’s and Chad’s dream come true. Larken’s cheeks match the skirt though, so I guess he got one out of four.
The other three … the fishnet tights and bras were all them.
“Some days, I think my boyfriend is the hottest guy on the planet, and then others …” Bailey waves a hand toward where Chad is kicking dirt at Robbie.
Charles chuckles, and I glance over at the sun lounge he’s stretched out on.
I’ve gotta say, being on this side of the divide isn’t terrible.
I should probably feel like I’m betraying the brotherhood or something, but we have a truce, and they all know how I am about rules.
Bending them is fair game; breaking them is off-limits.
I take another long drink of the punch Bailey made us, sneaking covert looks over at Charles’s long legs. I want to feel them wrapped around me. Maybe taste the soft pale skin on his inner thigh …
A long breath huffs from me, and I glance up at where Charles is watching my brothers. His sunglasses are on against the glare, but there’s something about the set of his mouth …
I whack his thigh. “You really need to watch them so closely?”
“But if I don’t, I might miss something.”
I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. Even though he doesn’t glance my way, the smugness is radiating from him. “I’m not jealous,” I clarify.
Bailey sniggers.
“What?” I ask him. “I’m not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe I should be helping them after all.” I cross my arms.
“More chances for Charles to perve on you that way.” Bailey’s eyes roam back to where Chad has heaved a huge roll of turf onto his shoulder. “Damn.”
I can’t disagree with him. Sweaty and covered in dirt—even dressed as ridiculously as they are—is a good look. Fuck this. I whip off my shirt and go join them.
Like any good president would.
The whole time I work, I can feel Charles’s focus burning into me.
And maybe I flex more than I need to and push myself to work harder than any of my brothers—those are the kinds of things you expect a president to do, after all.
My thoughts slip forward to the executive sleepover later tonight, and I internally groan. I’m going to be forced to sleep in a room with Charles. For an entire night. And not be able to touch him.
This is torture.
We need Hush Hush ASAP.
But after how tired he was the other day, I’m reluctant to cut into any sleep time he has.
Graduation is coming up way too fast though, and I’m worried that if I don’t take every opportunity we have that I’m going to regret it.
I already regret the months that passed between secret hookups, but even taking Hush Hush out of the equation hasn’t made it any easier.
I could come out. At least to my brothers. I’d swear them to secrecy and trust them to keep it, but that doesn’t solve anything either, because then I’d have to tell them who I’m sleeping with.
A guy is okay.
Hell, even a Kappa is borderline fine.
Charles is not.
His presence is mostly seen as a joke in our house, and I’m part of that problem. So I need to be part of what fixes it. Even if no one ever finds out we’re having fun on the side, I at least owe Charles that.
I want my brothers to see him the way I do.
Except maybe not as naked.
Once we’re finished hauling grass around all morning, we head back to the house to shower and set up the war room.
The furniture is pushed to the sides, and we retrieve all the mattresses we can get our hands on.
Normally with the twelve executives, the twelve mattresses fit easily and we all camp out on our own, but the number is double tonight, and there’s no way twenty-four beds will squish in.
So instead, we’re playing Tetris and packing as many as we can fit on the floor, then every bastard can pick a spot.
It’s going to be a snug fit.
I wish I was working on a different kind of snug fit.
Chad pauses after yeeting a bunch of bedding into the middle of the room. “What’s on your mind, prez?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” He plants his hands on his hips and turns his back on the room to face me. “I’d believe that if you were Robbie. He doesn’t think a single thing through. You though? You’re always thinking.”
“Just frat stuff.”
“And you won’t share with your number two?”
I tilt a smile his way. “It doesn’t concern my number two.”
“Frat stuff that doesn’t concern me? Bullshit. I’d ask if it’s all the posts and this plan, but you don’t look like you’re worried or strategizing …”
“Then how do I look?”
“Hmm … kinda down?”
I scoff and shake my head. “That’s definitely not it.”
“I know you’ve already handed Bro-motions nights off to Larken, but if you need to chat, you have a whole brotherhood at your back, man.”
“I appreciate it.”
He eyes me for a bit longer, then steps forward and crushes me in a bear hug. “We love you, Ariston.”
Goddamn Chad. I laugh into his shoulder, and when he loosens his hold, a weight smacks into us from the side and squeezes tight.
“What are we doing?” comes Robbie’s loud voice, right beside my ear.
“Giving prez a boost.”
“Aww, Zeke,” Brandon teases before he joins the circle as well.
I have no idea how many of the others decide to get in on the action, but before I know it, I’m completely surrounded and being hugged from all sides.
Just. Great.
My lips twitch as I shrug them off me.
“Okay, you animals, back to work.”
They don’t need any more convincing than that. Most guys only took over their executive roles this year—I was a rare junior prez—and the executive sleepover is a thing of legend. No one outside the doors knows what goes on in here because it’s literally whatever we make it.
And tonight, we’re making it into a fucking auction.
We all have a couple of drinks before we go live, and thankfully, the event e-invites we’ve sent out means there are a hell of a lot of people waiting.
Good news for us, because the more there are online, the more chance of bids.
We’re dealing with a mostly broke college audience here, so I’m not expecting miracles, but it’ll be fun, it’ll generate talk, and it’ll raise some charity dollars to show the dean what stand-up guys we are.
Charles and I introduce the night to raucous applause, and it’s still creeping me out to see our two houses together without a fistfight breaking out.
Once we’re done, Brandon and Kurt take over with their list of items on offer.
There are the awesome, useful things like brothers doing the setup for parties, playing door bitch, and designated drivers for the rest of the year.
Kurt is offering up doing someone’s taxes.
Charles has four free tutoring sessions.
Miles has a few handyman-type things, and some of the brothers are willing to mow lawns, or dog walk, or wash cars—any shithouse job people don’t want to do, we’ll cover.
Then there are what can only be described as the Sigma items. They’re less useful, and more dares.
If we get to fifty bucks, Robbie will do a frozen slip and slide in his boxer briefs.
A hundred and Larken will shave his head.
Two hundred will have Chad wax his balls and asshole—and when we hit that point easily, Bailey gives him an evil grin and promises to be gentle.
My own balls try to crawl inside my body at the thought.
It takes forever for the guys to calm down from the auction and stop horsing around and being dickheads. I’ve set up a sleeping area next to Charles, and I’m desperate to use it, so I suggest we put a movie on the projector and shut the fuck up.
One movie turns to two, and then three. My brothers are all so hopped up on energy drinks and the response to our live that it takes forever for them to fall asleep.
And while normally trying to sleep in the same room as them would have my guard up, we agreed to no messing with anyone who’s asleep early. This is a safe zone.
Poor Robbie. I swear he’s losing all opportunities to have fun.
I drift off at some point, and when I wake, the movie is still playing, but loud snores rattle the otherwise still room.
I prop up onto my elbows and look around in the light from the projector. From what I can tell, everyone is fast asleep.
Well, except one.
A hand clasps onto mine, and I look down to find Charles blinking sleepily up at me. His pouty lips are turned down, slight frown marring his forehead. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” I lie back down and roll onto my side to face him.
“Good.” He tucks his hands under his cheek, and his eyes fall closed again.
Mine don’t. I lie there watching him, hit with this overwhelming need to lean in and kiss him. Not for any reason other than to just … kiss.
My tongue swipes my suddenly dry lips, and fuck it.
After one more check that everyone is asleep, I lean in and press my lips gently to his. Charles’s eyes snap open.
“What are you doing?” he whispers.
“Want me to stop?”
He takes a second to think about that. “Anyone could be awake.”
“They’re not.”
“Zeke, if someone sees …”
“Then it’s on me.” I mean it too. I don’t want anyone to find out because I have enough going on without that kind of backlash, but a little kissing isn’t exactly high risk.
“You sure?”
I lean in and kiss him harder this time. “Very.” My voice deepens. “I’ve missed this.”
His smile is fucking golden. Charles closes the distance between us, and suddenly, there’s no more talking.
Just his lips on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.
Slow and sensual, then fast and needy. He’s got my cock worked up and giving a military salute within a second flat, and what I wouldn’t do to flip him over and bury myself inside him.
Reluctantly, I pull back, and then I meet his eyes and can feel myself melting.
“I need you,” he whines.
I know what he means. The need to devour him is strong, and I’m cursing myself that I started kissing him at all. The need hasn’t lessened—if anything, I’ve just stoked the flames.
“Roll over.”
Charles doesn’t question me, and as soon as he’s facing the other way, I crowd in behind him.
My cock nestles perfectly in the crease between his ass cheeks, and I swear the thing goddamn purrs.
I rock my hips, addicted to the friction, and savor the rattly breath Charles lets out.
Life doesn’t get better than this. Holding him, feeling his unrestrained want in the tiny tremors he tries to hold back, it all goes to my head as my blood drains south.
I press my lips to his ear. “Are you hard?”
“Umm …” He’s distracted by the fingers I drag lightly over his throat. “Y-yes.”
My touch roams over his chest. “And can you feel how hard you’ve made me?”
He hurries to nod, but it’s not enough. I tweak his nipple and draw out a hiss.
“Tell me.”
“Yeah … I can.” And as if to drive his point home, his ass grinds back against me.
It’s bliss.
He only stops when my fingers reach his stomach, hike up his shirt, and then skim down his V. I chuckle at the way his entire body stiffens, then creep my hand under the waistband of his sleep shorts.
“Z-Zeke.”
“Tell me to stop,” I say.
He shakes his head so hard he almost headbutts me. “Never.”
We both moan as my hand wraps around his stiff length.
“Fuuuck, you feel so good.”
Another unrestrained whimper that drives me goddamn wild.
His neediness is like a red flag to a fucking bull, and I grind my cock harder between his cheeks as I jack him off.
Being able to see him like this, to pull him apart bit by bit, is addictive.
I love watching the responsibility and order he holds so close slowly fade away as he ignites under my hands.
His expensive cologne, a hint of caramel, the way he cants his hips into my fist.
Need is pulsing in my bloodstream, and when he tilts his head back, I can’t help leaning down and slowly running the flat of my tongue from his shoulder to his ear.
“You taste so good, Charlie,” I rasp.
His lips part silently, and I know he’s holding back for my sake. “Oh … oh shit …”
“What do you need?”
“You. I need you. Inside me.”
I chuckle darkly. “Not gonna happen. No supplies.”
An unhappy noise builds in his throat, and I hurry to shush him.
“You’ll wake them up.” My grip tightens over his leaking head, then loosens as I pump down and back up again.
Remembering his fantasy, I gesture toward Sam sleeping beside him and play right into it.
“All he has to do is open his eyes and you’ll give us away.
Your cheeks are so red you’re practically begging for everyone to know I’m touching you.
For everyone to know you’re hard. For everyone to know how desperate you are to be filled with my cock. ”
“Jesus …”
“The big man can’t help you now.” I lick his throat again, grinding my hips forward before I stop to suck on his pulse point.
He’s so hot in my palm. The silky skin glides through my fist, and then I duck my hand down to cup his balls.
They leap at the contact, and I chase the feeling over and over until his skin pulls tight and Charles shakes against me.
“Please …” He pants. “I need you. I need you I need you.”
“No supplies …” I repeat.
“Then get some. Or take me somewhere. I don’t care. Just please. Please, please, please.”
There’s no way in hell I can say no to that begging.
My hand withdraws, and I achingly pull myself away from him as I sit up and look around the room. The snoring I’d drowned out is still going strong, and no one looks like they’ve moved.
I glance back down at Charles. His blown pupils, wet pouty lips, and pink-splotched cheeks, and I decide that fuck it all, I need him too.
“Come with me.”