The Student. Part 6.
“Hi,” I said, a drunken grin plastered across my face. He answered the door in the same grey tracksuit bottoms he’d come down to mine in the other day, and I stared openly at the dick imprint. Well, it was staring right at me. I didn’t even notice he was wearing glasses.
“Get in here, you dafty.” He took my coat and gave me a hug, a warm one that felt so real, so close. So why did he feel so distant. “We’re watching Battlestar Galactica.”
He led me into the dark living room where his flat mate, a curvy, bubbly blonde girl was sitting under a blanket, gnawing her way through an entire chocolate orange. Her mouth full, she waved instead of saying hello.
A little shaken by the turn of events, I slipped onto the couch beside Gavin, now snuggling up to the girl under the blanket. I felt like a dad turning up to take my kid away from a sleepover.
“What’re you doing all the way over there?” Gavin demanded. He lifted the blanket and pulled me in, and I snuggled under his free arm.
“Are there gays in Battlestar?” I asked.
“No.”
“Huh, I’ve only heard about the show from other gays.”
He could tell I was teasing him for his insistence on discretion. An insistence on which I still did not understand. Nor why he didn’t want to meet me. Nor why, when I’d openly begged for him to come around all day, he couldn’t be bothered to walk the hundred and ninety-two steps to my house. Instead, he sat here with this bitch watching fucking…
“It’s about this group of humans attacked by the Cylons,” the girl started saying in between gnashing bites of the chocolate orange like it was an apple.
“I’m going to stop you right there, hun. I’m only here because I left my keys at the pub,” I lied. If it had an affect on Gavin, he didn’t show it. Although he did pour a large glass of wine and shared it with me. If that was all the affection I was going to get from him, I’d take it.
I drank far more of the wine than him as the show continued. I didn’t try and ask and they didn’t explain, but the moment it finished Gavin leapt off the couch and pulled me up by my arm.
“Night!” he said to the flat mate. I waved back.
Gavin pulled me into his bedroom, and we started kissing before the door even snapped shut. Just like last time, he whipped off my belt and yanked my trousers and underwear down to my ankles, stroking my already hard dick as the rest of me was still fully clothed. His tongue danced around my mouth while his hands gripped my chunky ass. God I hoped he was going to fuck me again, and I would remember it.
Gavin threw me onto the bed and I lay back on his raggedy pillow smelling delightfully of him as he lost the t-shirt and bottoms, once again naked. Although this time it was too dark to see his shape. And the speed the room was spinning at would’ve made it impossible to focus anyway. My brain had a few seconds of time lag, but suddenly I felt him gorging on my cock, making it slippery and wet while he slid a hand under my ass and started flicking at my hole.
I let out a long, passive moan as he licked up from my pubes, damp from a night of dancing, and up my bare torso, sending me into a shivering spin. Gavin rolled my t-shirt off, and I managed to slip my shoes off without looking. Next were my trousers, and now I was laying completely naked on Gavin’s bed. His sheets against my bare skin, my drunken smile screaming that he could do whatever he wanted to a desperate guy like me. But it was him; his soft skin and supple body, those thin arms, that cocky smile and the monstrous cock swinging between his legs which did it to me.
Gavin reached across me through the darkness and pulled a bottle of poppers out of his top drawer. But this time he took two hits first, and I started to worry he wanted me to fuck him. Now I’m as versatile as the next guy, despite Mylo’s slander, but topping anyone after eight hours of drinking would be a challenge for even the best of us.
Lucky for me though, the poppers went straight to my nose after his. As I sniffed, he lifted both my legs over his shoulders, licking from ankle to toe and running strong hands along the inside of my thighs. All of this dance was to get to my hole, and that’s exactly where I wanted him to be.
Gavin teased my hole with the bare head of his cock, dropping small bits of spit onto my ass then dabbing it inside with is finger, before stretching me out a bit more with just the tip. Just the tip. Doesn’t it always start that way? My mind flooded back to my very first time. So long ago now. Just the tip, he’d said. Kids, here’s a tip for you. Don’t bareback on your first time. It’ll ruin sex for you for life.
Gavin had perhaps the same experience, because he moaned far louder than he’d done the other night as the tip edged further in. Gavin came face to face with me, his tongue flicking at my face, biting my lip as he nudged further inside. I might’ve been drunk, but Gavin knew exactly what he was doing.
He kept staring at me in the almost darkness, pushing his cock in just a little bit more, waiting for me to break the spell. I could do it; I know I could. Those three little words: ‘Got a condom?’ The phrase no one can say no to. Even a suggestion of havering on the other person’s part is mutually acknowledged grounds for heading straight home. But the phrase spins the power from the bottom to the top. It casts a long shadow of shame, those words. The reminder that sex between men must come with a health warning, and this night, as fun or forgettable as we might want it to be, will come up again in six months as an essay answer to a yes or no question. ‘Do you use condoms?’ the nurse will ask, and Gavin and I will lean back in the chair, probably the same chair, as this is not a big city, and preface our answer with an all too telling ‘um.’
The game is Russian Roulette, of course it is. Seizing up the other person, making every instant judgement possible, trying to determine the undeterminable while waiting to see who’s going to blink first. But unlike firing a possibly loaded gun into your temple, we’re not talking here about a death sentence. We’re talking minor, calculated risk in exchange for a great big reward.
I should deal with it as Mylo does. As soon as they get too close or too randy, he looks them dead in the eye, says those three magic words, but then slaps on an addendum. ‘It’s for your own protection, not mine.’ That always separates the men from the boys.
But Gavin keeps going, and I do nothing to stop him. Perhaps this night will come back to haunt me, but it’s a night I wouldn’t mind being haunted by. He edged at least halfway in, biting my nipples then licking up to my neck before planting a strong, wet kiss on my lips. Poppers and alcohol is a heady mix, but his cock anchors me like a weight in a storm. He’s the stone tower in a rainstorm of insecurity. The confident trickster I’ll sell my magic beans to.
His rhythm gets harder. The pumps come quicker than it did wrapped in latex. My inhibitions lie pooled on the floor as Gavin fucks me raw. There’s no ‘just the tip’ anymore, we’re all the way, and he’s getting close.
I hold his back, the arm muscles working hard to thrust his way to satisfaction. He doesn’t care about me this time, and I don’t want him to either. Fuck knows how long it will take me to cum in this splayed-apart state, and I don’t even want to either. I want Gavin, and I want Gavin to want me. His pace quickens, his breath is all over my face. He writhes on top of me, pubes and stomach hair tugging at my own. Teeth dig into neck, bite at my skin. He’s thrusting in all way, again and again and again.
“I wanna cum inside you. Gonna let me fill you up bitch.”
Fuck it.
“Gimme it.” I said. There was nothing left to say.
… to be continued.
