Off Campus (18 page)

“Just saying, if you end up picking pubes out of your teeth, sorry 'bout that.”

He gave Reese's hip a squeeze with one hand, slipping the other between his thighs and sliding it up until he cupped Reese's balls in his hand, holding still.

“Shh. Only one of us gets to be nervous about giving a first blowjob,” he teased, stroking a finger along the skin farther back but careful not to approach anything near ass territory, until Reese had to put a hand on his shoulder as he inhaled on a hiss.

He was only joking now, nerves evaporating in the thrill of hearing the noises escape from Reese with his every touch. To make him gasp was as easy as leaning forward and taking the tip of his dick in Tom's mouth, curling his tongue around the head and sucking softly until the tang of pre-come leaked into his mouth. To make him moan, a hand slicking that mix of spit and come down the length of Reese's dick with a tight grip.

The pillow under his knees was cheap as shit and the linoleum floor made his bones ache, but he didn't give a damn. The heady surge of giving pleasure to this man rose in him like a cresting wave and he felt himself getting hard again. He would play his boy like a fucking instrument and let the music wash him clean.

But Reese was hung up on his joke maybe, because he pushed a hand down between Tom's face, blocking him, and spoke in between panting breaths.

“Wait. You don't have to.”

“Yeah, I do.” Tom licked at the hand in his way, wriggling his tongue in between the vee of two fingers and glancing the tip against the hot smooth skin of Reese's dick.

Reese's hand in his hair jerked him back. “No. Don't. If you aren't into it—”

“Will you shut up?” Tom lifted his head and hoped Reese's night vision was good enough to see that his eyes were wide open. “I'm so fucking into this you're gonna have to blow me all over again when I'm done, okay? Now get your hands out of the fucking way and let me suck your dick.”

Reese snorted with laughter but his fingers trembled when he rested them on Tom's shoulders.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss into Reese's knuckles until Reese's other hand landed on his head, feathering lightly against his hair. But after a moment, he pulled himself away until Reese let go. Then he leaned in again.

Enough fucking around. Time to get serious.

Reese's dick had only been half-committed to the event at hand, but Tom wrapped his lips around his teeth, his hand around the base, and focused on getting its full attention. The feeling of Reese's dick, swelling, hardening, against his tongue was like a reward for good behavior. He discovered that Reese had told the truth. Everything was easier when he let some more spit leak out of his mouth and the entire endeavor got sloppy and wet. The sudden uptick in volume of Reese's moans and occasional muttered curses was clear feedback that he approved.

Tom's jaw was aching and his respect for everyone, male or female, who'd ever blown him was going through the roof, but he ignored the dull pain radiating in his face and concentrated on experimenting, determined to figure out all of the things that made Reese catch his breath and groan
fuuuck
while his hands flexed in Tom's hair. Once, he skimmed a hand up Reese's chest to find his nipple, pinching hard right as he sucked tightly up his length, only to gag as Reese's hips snapped and his dick pressed in on Tom's throat.

“Sorry,” Reese gasped, pulling back.

Tom shook his head and pressed forward, hands pulling Reese's hips in smooth pulses as he swallowed and tried not to gag. He trusted Reese not to go too far and concentrated on the press of dick against the roof of his mouth, applying the flat of his tongue as a lever, with satisfying results.

Soon enough, Reese was pushing him back, gasping out a warning.

“Tom. I'm gonna come.”

He knew there was risk. God, with Reese's behavior, the risk might even be real. But this thing he was doing, this blowjob—something Reese used for control, for revenge almost, against the past—felt to Tom like a gift that he could give. When he'd had nothing for so long to give to anyone at all. So he ignored the push and the warning and continued sucking.

He
needed
to give something. He could give this.

He hadn't thought Reese's dick could get any harder, but it did, the thin skin stretched so tight it felt like marble right as Reese's breath caught, held, his entire body locked in place as he came silently, his dick spilling hot and slippery in Tom's mouth, come slipping past his lips.

Shit. Swallowing was harder than it looked.

He knew what he liked, so Tom sucked on Reese until he stopped coming and softened. He let his roommate's penis slip free of his mouth and coughed a little. He was out of breath and his own dick hung heavy and hard, needing only a moment's attention to have him coming again, but Tom ignored it to wallow in the moment, pretty sure he'd given the best first blowjob ever.

He rested his head against Reese's thigh, grinning to himself, feeling Reese's weight pushing back on him as his boy slumped against him. After a minute, Reese tugged him up and pulled him across the room to his own bed, pushing Tom down onto it before straddling his thighs. Looked like he hadn't forgotten what Tom had told him pre-blowjob. His hand on Tom's aching dick was strong and sure and in less than thirty seconds Tom was arching his back and shooting come across his own belly again.

Reese wiped them both off with a sheet before kicking it to the foot of the bed and pushing Tom onto his side, facing the room. He snuggled up behind Tom and wrapped his arm around him. Tom let go of his worry and trusted Reese to know that he was okay with them together in his bed.

“Holy shit,” Reese whispered and stroked Tom's chest, making him shiver when he skimmed over one hypersensitive nipple.

“Totally.” His front was cool with evaporating sweat but Reese radiated heat at his back and he was too fucking tired to move an arm in search of a blanket. He felt flattened, as if a steamroller had smashed him to a pulp and laid him out in a stripe on a road. There was probably some more articulate thing he should say to Reese, but Tom couldn't figure it out as a wave of sleep swept over him.

Holy shit indeed.

Every muscle in his body ached.

He woke up slowly, becoming aware of each body part as it complained, hands gripping tight to the edge of the mattress, curled up on his side with his top leg flung back over Reese's legs in a tangle that helped him balance on the bed instead of landing in a painful heap on the floor. Reese might not hog the covers, not that it was cool enough for them to need much, but he sure didn't give up more than about six inches of mattress.

Tom rolled off the bed and dug a pair of track pants out of his dresser. The need to brush his teeth before Reese woke up prodded at him. Spending the night with someone was weird.

By the time he got back, Reese was awake. Not up. Lying there on the bed with a little smile as if he knew a fantastic secret, watching him walk in the door.

“Scoot over.”

Reese backed up until his spine was pressed against the wall. Tom climbed on the bed and laid down, both of them on their sides, facing each other, which on the skinny ass twin bed left about ten inches of space between their faces.

“Morning.” He was still working out if and when and how the whole touching thing worked with Reese. Definitely a different set of rules than the hookups, but the idea of getting it wrong gave him a chill that was
not
the good kind of shivery. Letting Reese make the first move seemed like a permanently good idea.

“Morning.”

Tom knew the grin on his face was goofy, more fit for a teenager playing Ding Dong Ditch maybe, but he let his freak flag fly. Fuck it.

Reese shifted forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Tom closed his eyes for a second then opened them again to find his roommate watching him, no matching grin in sight.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Holy shit. Already? It's been two nights?”

“Ha ha. Seriously.”

“Okay. I can do serious. Sorry. Ignore the grinning.”

“You're such a dork.”

He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue until Reese laughed at him.

But he settled down quickly enough when the laughter faded off Reese's lips. Energy was zinging through his veins until he felt as if he could shoot lightning bolts out of his fingertips, but he could lock it down to listen.

“I'm out.”

Zap.

Two words that sucked the zippiness right out of him. He wasn't an idiot. He knew this conversation was coming. Just hadn't thought it would be
now
.

Reese looked at him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Even if I wanted to, which I don't, the closet is no longer an option for me.”

Tom nodded. He understood.

Understanding didn't make it easier, though.

“I'm not in the same place.”

“Not out obviously. And not planning on it?”

“It's not like that. I don't want people to know this, 'cause I don't want them to know jack shit about me. Everything that gets out there about me is gonna end up in a fucking gossip column. No question.”

Reese nodded. Maybe the giant neon sign reading “
Okay, but…
” was only visible to Tom.

The pause dragged on. He saw Reese lining up the words in his head, getting everything in proper order. Trying to find the right words that would tell Tom he was full of shit and could go play in traffic. With a blindfold.

Reese didn't blink when he spoke.

“I understand. I really do.”

“But.”

A sad smile on a face he only wanted to make happy.

“But, I already have one secret thing I don't talk about with hardly anyone. I can't have another secret thing, you know? I just can't.”

“I get it. I…don't know what to say.” He stared at the wrinkled sheet between them. “I'm doing my best this year to stay off everyone's radar. The dean basically told me that I'm gone if my being here causes a fucking press circus.”

“Are you sure? I heard she was pretty great.”

“There's a shitload of deans. Maybe that was one of the other ones. I'm sure. I got it in writing.” The urge to touch was overwhelming. He traced the edge of Reese's eyebrow with one finger. Such an elegant curve. “Imagine the headlines. Jailbird's Son Turns Gay in Despair. Criminal or Cocksucker, News at Nine. Pretty sure a shot of me with my new boyfriend would bring the paparazzi running.”

Reese rolled his eyes and laughed out loud.

“You know they can't say cocksucker on television, right?”

“They'll make an exception for me.”

“Not even for you, hot stuff.”

Reese had a smile on his face but it looked like a battered postcard pinned to a dorm door with one bent thumbtack, perilously close to falling to the floor.

“So what do we do?” He didn't have a solution. Hoped Reese was chock full of good ideas about how to make this not suck. He smoothed a hand over the wrinkled sheet, pressing it flat and smooth, only to watch the creases pop back up after his hand passed over them.

“Not sure. This can't be a thing where we hide in our room—”

“Like we've been doing all semester.”

“—like we've been doing all semester—”

“Except with more fucking.”

“—and avoiding the world. I don't need a frigging therapist to know that's a bad idea. Neither of us need another reason to do that.”

“Yeah, that's kind of my entire plan for this year, you know?”

“I know. But I think that's a sucky plan, Tom. You're not a criminal. You don't have to shut yourself up in a prison.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because it feels like you think you deserve to be punished.”

He stared at the sharp line of Reese's collarbone, avoiding his gaze.

“Maybe I do.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I was kind of an asshole, Reese.” He struggled to articulate the thing that had been a driving need in him the night before. “I thought I walked on fucking water and everybody worshipped me and that they
should
because there wasn't anything I couldn't do, you know?” His voice sank like a pebble in an inky black well until it was a whisper that wouldn't even echo in the depths. “You wouldn't have liked me very much then.”

“Were you an asshole like…you know, those guys?”

“Fuck, no. I was a jerk. Not a fucking rapist.”

“Okay. So you were a jerk. Don't be a jerk anymore, right?”

“It's not that easy. It's like, everyone knows all of this stuff about me, but—”

“But none of it's true about you now.”

“Jesus, this is fucking torture. Talking about all this.”

“And you want
me
to go to therapy?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Fuck. Yes, okay? None of it's true anymore. Or at least, most of it isn't, but I can see it in their eyes when people look at me and I can't walk around with a fucking sign.
Tom Worthington, changed man. Promise.
” He flashed two thumbs up and a politician's shit-eating grin at Reese for a second before letting it all fade.

“You know what'd help people figure out that you're different now? If you left our fucking room and went out and talked to them.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, low profile. I got it.” Reese's sigh was huge, gusting out of him, his breath blowing in Tom's face. A shot of adrenaline hit his veins, his heart jumpstarted and every muscle down to his fucking toes clenched in a moment of panic that the words about to come out of Reese's mouth would be some version of,
Sorry, buddy, no can do.

“Okay.” Reese threw a leg over Tom's hip. “Two things. One, if you feel like you need to be punished for having been a jerk, how about you let me do the punishing, 'kay? 'Cause I'll take it out on your ass, no problem.” He pushed his hips forward until his dick pressed up against the front of Tom's track pants, rubbing himself against the silky stuff. Tom arched his lower back, pushing against Reese, and shivered. Images from porn he'd only ever dared to watch after learning how to clear cached memory on his laptop flashed through his brain. What did Reese mean,
take it out on his ass?