Freed, page 6
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I tell him.
Dylan says nothing but continues to stand there staring at me, a strange gleam in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He quickly closes the distance between us takes my head into his hands. Our mouths crash together, his tongue swirling and dancing with mine. My stomach is churning and my heart is beating a staccato rhythm in my chest as our kiss deepens and intensifies. The two water bottles hit the ground with a clatter as I pull Dylan to me. I can feel his rigid cock pressing against my stomach and I feel myself growing harder.
His mouth is on my neck, biting, kissing, fueling the fire inside of me. Reaching down, I grab his cock through his jeans and give it a firm squeeze, relishing the length and thickness of it. I quickly unbutton and unzip his pants and he moans as I slide my hand beneath his boxers and grip his thick length.
Dylan puts his hands on my shoulders and forces me down onto my knees. I grips my hair, pulling it hard as I slide his pants down to his thighs and lean forward, running the tip of my tongue around the head of his rigid staff. I tease the tip, relishing the salty sweet taste of his precum on my lips.
Dylan lets out a loud groan as I take him into my mouth. Reaching out, I grip the base of his cock and squeeze it tight, slowly moving my hand up and down his shaft as lick and suck on him. My head is spinning with desire and disbelief. I’ve wanted this for so long and actually getting it is mind blowing to me.
There’s a voice in the back of my mind whispering to me though, telling me that no matter how much I want this, I shouldn’t be doing it. Dylan’s in a tenuous place right now. He’s confused and fragile. He could react in a variety of ways to what we’re doing – and not all of them good.
But my lust and desire is raging and as I look up at Dylan, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue, all those thoughts flee from my mind. As I work his hard staff with my hand and mouth, listen to his moans, and see the look of pleasure etched upon his face, all I can think of is how bad I want this.
Using my mouth and hand, I suck and stroke his cock in unison, gripping him tightly as I move up and down on his staff. Dylan grabs my hair, pulling it tight as he starts to roll his hips, pumping his dick into my mouth. He throws his head back, his loud moan echoing around my kitchen as I tighten my lips around his rod, sucking him even harder.
The next thing I know, Dylan is pulling me to my feet. He is fumbling with my pants, his movements clumsy and frantic. I push his hands away and unbutton my pants for him. Dylan quickly pushes them down and pulls my cock out, his eyes gleaming with a maniacal light. He roughly turns me around and bends me down over the counter.
Dylan plants his hand in the middle of my back, pressing down hard and pinning me to the counter. I feel him behind me, feel his stiff rod pressing against me. Dylan’s breathing is shallow and quick his eagerness betrayed by his hurried, almost frenzied movements.
With his hand on my hip, Dylan slides the head of his cock into me. A groan of absolute pleasure passes my lips as I feel him filling me up. As he first enters me, his movements are slow and tentative but it’s not long before he picks up the pace. He thrusts his staff into me harder and faster and his moans are breathy.
Reaching behind me, I take his other hand and guide it around to my cock. I wrap his fingers around my hard shaft and show him how to stroke me as he fucks me. He’s tentative at first, almost like he’s scared to touch me – which is understandable. But then he grips me harder, jerking me off with more enthusiasm as he pounds his cock into me.
I cry out as Dylan thrusts himself deep into me at the same time he gives me a hard stroke. My body feels like it’s on fire and radiates with pleasure. Dylan grabs my hair and wrenches my head back as he drives his cock into me, pounding me with a reckless abandon that drives me into a frenzy.
“Fuck me, Dylan,” I tell him. “Fuck me harder.”
Dylan complies and drives himself into me even harder, the slap-slap-slap of our bodies crashing together filling the air around us. Dylan is grunting and I feel his body growing tense. His grip on my cock tightens and he jerks me off with the same intensity he’s fucking me with. My every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire and I know I’m coming close to the brink.
“Fuck” he growls.
I moan loudly as he thrusts himself deep, hitting that spot inside of me that makes me explode with pleasure. I feel my body start to tremble and shake and as my cock starts to pulse, I feel Dylan stiffen. The sound that bursts from his throat is more animal than human and a moment later, I feel him erupt, shooting his warm, sticky come deep inside of me. Not even a heartbeat later, as his grip on my cock tightens again, I cry out as I come, blowing thick ropes all over the cabinets in front of me.
We remain standing there, coupled together like that for several long moments as we catch our breath. Slowly, Dylan’s deflated cock slips out of me with a rush of his warm seed. I turn around and step toward him, wanting nothing more than to hold and kiss him in that moment. But as he looks at me, Dylan’s eyes grow wide and a look of absolute terror crosses his face. And I feel like I was just kicked in the gut, driving all the breath from my lungs.
“What the fuck?” he gasps. “What did we just do? What did you just do to me?”
“Me? What did I do?” I ask, completely stunned. “Dylan, I –”
He shakes his head and quickly pulls his pants up, buttoning them again in a hurry. I pull my pants up and lean back against the counter.
“I think we should talk, Dylan.”
He finishes fixing his belt and looks at me, the look of pain and confusion on his face even deeper than before. He says nothing but shakes his head, taking a step away from me as if he can’t put enough physical distance between us.
“Dylan –”
“No, you need to stay away from me,” he says. “Just – just stay away from me.”
And with that, he turns and runs out of my apartment, slamming the door behind him. I run a hand through my hair and stand there, not sure how I’m supposed to react to this situation.
“Fuck!”
My frustration boiling over, I swipe at a glass that’s sitting on the counter and it hits the wall on the far side with a crack like a gunshot. There’s a loud tinkling sound as it shatters, spraying small shards of glass everywhere.
I stand there amid the ruin, the shards of glass twinkling in the light and sigh. I should have known better than to go there. I know better than that.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “You’re an asshole, Dylan.”
Chapter Seven
Dylan
I take another deep drag on the joint in my head and lean back against the headboard of my bed and stare up at the ceiling. It’s been a few days since I saw Wes and I haven’t been able to get my mind off him or what happened. It was wrong. It was horribly wrong and I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I let it happen.
I look over at the door when I hear the knock but don’t feel like talking to anybody so I ignore it. I take another drag off my joint and slowly exhale the smoke, sinking deeper into that hazy bliss when the door opens. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I look over and see Spencer walking in. He waves his hand, trying to fan a path through the cloud of smoke in my room.
“Jesus dude,” he says. “It smells like shit in here. At least open a fuckin’ window.”
When I don’t move, he walks over and opens the windows, sticking his head out and taking a long breath of fresh air. Then he turns on the overhead fan and keeps waving at the cloud of haze in my room, trying to help usher it out through the windows. He turns back to me with a curious expression on his face.
“Dude, are you okay?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“You haven’t been out of your room in days, man,” he says and wrinkles his nose in disgust. “As the stench in this room can attest to.”
“Just needed to chill.”
Spencer sits down in the chair in front of my desk and leans back. I can see he’s concerned about me but there’s nothing he can do for me. I need to process everything that happened for myself – on my own – and there’s nothing he can do to help me.
“You haven’t come out of your room in days, man,” he says like I don’t know. “You haven’t come out to eat or judging by the smell in here, to even shower. What’s up?”
“As I said, I just needed some time to chill,” I tell him. “On my own.”
“What’s going on, bro?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just needed some space,” I repeat.
Spencer stands there for a moment looking at me and shaking his head. I just want to get him out of my room. I want to be alone with my thoughts. I need to figure out why I let that situation with Wes happen and what I think about it.
“Yeah, that’s bullshit. It’s been days, Dylan,” he announces. “Get up. We’re going out.”
“Not interested.”
“Doesn’t matter whether you’re interested or not,” he says. “You need to get out of this room if for no other reason than to let this shit air out. I’ve been around septic tanks that have smelled better.”
I laugh for the first time in days. “Fuck off.”
He steps over and grabs my arm, hauling me out of bed and forcing me to stand up. I’m so high that the entire room seems to waver and spin around me and he has to hold me up for a moment. Eventually, I kind of get my bearings about me and am able to stand on my own – although I have to steady myself on my desk.
“Okay, step one accomplished,” Spencer says. “Now get your ass into the shower because I’m not going out with you when you’re smelling like that.”
“Seriously man,” I say. “I’m not feeling up to it tonight.”
He shakes his head. “Too bad. You don’t have a choice. Now go.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
He pushes my shower bag into my hand and shoves me out the door of my bedroom, pushing me down the hallway to the bathroom. Shoving me inside, he closes the door after me. Truth be told, getting on my feet and moving around has made me feel slightly better. It’s cleared my head just a bit so I climb into the shower and turn the water on as cold as I can stand it.
Maybe getting out into some fresh air will wash away the fog that’s clouding my brain. Maybe that will help give me the clarity I’m looking for. Maybe it’ll allow me to figure out what’s going on in my head. I suppose after keeping myself stoned I should be willing to try something different since that didn’t work. Of course, being stoned for the last few days also kept me numb inside which, although not very productive from a figuring shit out standpoint, wasn’t altogether too bad.
Half an hour later, I’m showered and dressed and walking out of the frat house with Spencer. I wouldn’t say I’m feeling good but I’m at least feeling slightly more human. My head is at least a little more clear. It’s amazing how foggy things get when you smoke your way through a few days.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asks.
“Don’t recall offhand.”
He smirks. “We’ll get you some wings over at the Nest.”
I nod as we continue walking across the quad to our on-campus bar, The Nest. It’s a nod to our mascot – the Owls – but I’ve always thought it’s a stupid name. But whatever. The beer is cheap, the appetizers are edible, and it’s usually pretty easy to find a girl who’s looking to screw.
We walk in and the place is only about half full, which is surprising to me since the place is usually packed to the rafters.
“Basketball game tonight,” Spencer notes.
I nod and we walk to a table near the back of the place. Tabby, one of our usual waitresses bustles over and flashes us a big smile. She’s a gorgeous girl – olive-colored skin, black hair, soulful dark eyes, and with full hips and breasts, she’s got a body that was just built for sin.
“Evenin’ fellas,” she beams. "Pitcher?”
Spencer nods. “And a bucket of wings, darlin’.”
“Of course.”
“Also,” Spencer adds, giving me a wink. “My good buddy Dylan is really down about something that he won’t talk to me about.”
“Awww, that’s too bad,” she says, turning her million watt smile to me.
“You think maybe after you get off work, you can help take his mind off things.”
She scoffs and grins. “Nice try,” she responds. “I’m not one of those bimbos who usually fall for your bullshit. I have a brain.”
I laugh and Spencer gives her a small shrug. “Can’t blame a guy for trying to help his buddy out, can you?”
“Of course not,” she replies. “And I think it’s very sweet of you to try.”
“Well, I am a sweet guy, what can I say?”
I roll my eyes as Tabby laughs. Spencer has been trying to get her into bed for as long as I can remember and has never gained an inch of ground in that quest. She comes back a few minutes later with a bucket of wings and a pitcher of beer for us. She sets the glasses down, fills them up, and bustles off with a smile – Spencer’s eyes fixed to her ass the whole way.
We make small talk, drinking and munching on the wings for about half an hour, forty-five minutes or so and I’m feeling better than I have in days. I’m starting to feel like I’m getting my feet back under me when Wesley walks through the doors of the bar with a couple of his friends, making my heart just about to stop dead in my chest. My mouth dries up at the same time my hands get cold and clammy. Wes’ eyes land on mine and I see them narrow as he clenches his jaw. His expression darkens and the anger on his face is as plain as day.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Spencer’s voice snaps me out of my head and I’m able to tear my eyes away from Wes. In my peripheral vision, I see Wes and his friends take a seat at a table on the other side of the bar. I do my best to avoid looking over at him, not wanting to encourage him to come over or anything. That’s about the last thing I need right now.
“Dude, what’s the deal?” Spencer asks.
“N – nothing,” I stammer. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because you look like you just saw a ghost,” he says.
“It’s nothing.”
He looks around the bar and then turns back to me, a look of anger flashing across his face. My stomach lurches and I taste the bile in the back of my throat. I don’t want Spencer to confront Wes – I don’t want what happened between us coming out.
“Is that fag still bothering you?” he growls.
“No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “And don’t call him a fag. It’s not cool and you’re better than that.”
He sighs and bites back a growl. I know Spencer isn’t like that. I know he’s not a homophobe and doesn’t care about the sexuality of others. In that way, we’re a lot alike. I know he’s only reacting the way he is because he thinks it’s what I want. Because he thinks I’m upset with Wes for hitting on me or whatever. At the heart of it, he’s simply trying to have my back and I can’t fault or be upset with him for that. He’s looking out for me like a brother should.
“Fine. My bad. But what’s up?” he asks. “You started acting all weird and shit when he walked in.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“It is,” he replies.
“Whatever,” I wave him off.
Tabby brings us another pitcher and tops off our glasses. I catch a glimpse of Wes staring at me. He says something to his friends and they both turn and take a casual glance at me. My face burns and my stomach clenches almost painfully.
Zach, another guy from the team wanders in and drops down at our table. We drink and talk for a few minutes before I tune out as they continue chattering on. If they notice I’d fallen out of the conversation, they show no sign of it. And as I sit there, my gaze wanders over to Wesley to find him staring back at me, making my heart turn a somersault.
There’s part of me that hates myself for what happened between me and Wes. I was weak and confused. I gave into what I thought I wanted. Wes put all that shit into my head about being who I really am and shit. He had me convinced I was gay. But right after it – happened – I felt dirty. I felt wrong and disgusting.
What’s fucking with my head though, is that on some level, deep down inside of me, it felt right. Being with Wes felt normal. Natural. It felt good. For the first time in my life, I felt like the pieces all lined up and everything seemed to have fallen into place.
Those two sides inside of me are at war and I don’t know how to reconcile them inside my own mind.
“What do you think, bro?”
I look up at Zach and realize I don’t have a clue what they were talking about. Wes flashes me a look of irritation and shakes his head.
“Sorry what?” I ask.
Zach throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Why do I even bother?”
I give him a lopsided grin., “Sorry man, I was off in my own world for a minute,” I explain. “What did you say?”
He sighs. “I said, Bianca is going to be here any minute and she wants to meet you,” he says. “I told her I’d hook her up.”
I chuckle and cut my eyes over to Wes again, feeling an electric surge of emotion course through me as my stomach roils.
“Sure,” I say and clear my throat. “Why not?”
About five minutes later, a group of people come crashing through the front doors, screaming and shouting at the top of their lungs. They’re loud, obnoxious, and everything I’m not in the mood for. If it weren’t for Spencer, I’d probably get up and walk out. But I know it would create a scene and that’s the last thing I want or need.
I watch as Bianca walks toward us, a saucy grin on her face and a little extra shimmy and sway in her hips. She’s got red hair that flows to the middle of her back and eyes the color of dollar bills. She’s a stunning girl, I have to give her that.
“Speak of the devil,” Zach announces. “And I do mean devil.”
He stands up and pulls her into a tight embrace and then turns around, his hand around her shoulder and flashes me a wolfish smile. I cut a glance at Spencer and he tips me a wink, a wide smile on his face as well as he gives me an approving nod.
