Page 2 of Blake University HBCU Chronicles: Archer & Destiny

TWO

Archer

Archer’s head tilted back, lips parted, a slow satisfied groan coming from the depths of his throat as a blonde between his legs sucked his dick like she had something to prove. Most women he came across, no matter the race, treated him like he was royalty.

Her green eyes were locked on his face, mouth wrapped around him, and her hands gripped his thighs as if her life depended on it. Her main goal was to make sure she secured a spot in Archer’s life.

“Pull them titties out, baby, pinch those fuckin’ nipples.” Archer encouraged her just as she pushed his ten inches past her tonsils.

His toes cracked as he watched her eat his dick up with no shame. Her tongue slithered from side to side as she cupped and massaged his balls.

“Nasty ass bitch, do that shit then.” He turned his lip up and chuckled.

The room smelled like cologne, weed, sweat, and sex.

Archer could hear the world outside that buzzed with first day of class anxiety.

He didn’t give a damn about syllabus week.

Class could wait; he never took shit at Blake U seriously, to be honest. He always felt like he was living a damn lie.

The only time he felt alive was when he was in his own element.

Off of campus, at his real house with his real responsibilities.

He leaned back further into his expensive leather desk chair, one hand was tangled into her bleached hair, the other lazily flicking the ashes from a blunt into a crystal ashtray that was shaped like a pussy.

His dorm room looked more like a luxury suite than a student’s quarters, thanks to his father’s money and Archer’s side hustles.

Designer sneakers lined the wall, even his walk was expensive.

On top of his desk was a glass tray of pills: Adderall, Xans, and a few other things that the students at Blake U partook in.

Archer found out a while ago that students didn’t just crave knowledge; most of them craved escape.

Archer knew how to sell both, because he spent most of his life escaping the harsh realities of a lot of different things.

Just as he shot his nut all over the blonde’s face and breasts, his door exploded open with a thunderous bang.

“What the hell is this shit, Archer!”

Archer didn’t acknowledge his father, instead, he took his dick and shoved it down the girl’s throat as a parting gift. She gagged, as her eyes widened looking over at Archer’s dad. Archer snatched his dick out of her mouth and shook his head at her.

“Next time, focus on my dick and not him.” He dropped his dick, making it land heavily on his thigh.

She scrambled to cover up her breasts as she eyed the tall, red-faced man storm further into the room. Archer Sr. was dressed in a tailored, smoked-gray suit. His pale blue eyes morphed into tiny slits as he stared at his first born in disgust.

“Sr.” Archer said coolly, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

There wasn’t a trace of shame in his voice or face.

“You knock now or…?”

Archer Sr. face turned a deeper shade of crimson.

“You’re nothing but a fucking thug! Fix your god damn pants!”

The girl let out a squeak, adjusting her crop top and trying her hardest to wipe off all the nut that decorated her face and chest. Archer stood slowly, like the world moved for him.

His skin was warm brown; he was tall with a careless elegance that made people mistake him for someone well put together. On the inside, Archer was dark.

“Get the fuck out.” Archer said to the Blonde.

He looked at his father and raised his brows. That was a cue for Sr. to continue with all the bullshit that he was getting ready to lay on his first-born son. The same bull shit that he ignored most of the time, because none of it was sincere. Soon as the girl rushed out, Sr. started up.

“You missed the first day, Archer.” Sr barked.

“Do you understand what kind of embarrassment that is? The son of Archer Sr, renowned civil litigation attorney, skipping classes to smoke weed and get his dick wet. Every day, you just throw my hard-earned money into the fire.” Sr. shook his head.

Archer grinned, unbothered by his father’s words. Sr. constantly threw his title around to stroke his own ego. It was super corny to Archer how his father needed everyone around him to make him feel like he was something. He stretched before tugging at his sweatpants.

Sr.’s hands shook; rage and shame flared behind his blue eyes.

“You act like I ever asked to be your legacy. Why you always so uptight, Sr.? Sounds like you need to be the one getting your dick wet.” Archer chuckled.

Sr. advanced and stopped soon as he saw the icy look in Archer’s eyes.

“You think this is a joke? You think I’m paying for your Blake U tuition so you can become some drop out junkie selling pills to kids who still wear retainer wires?”

That made Archer pause with a look of amusement.

“How long you known?” He asked, his voice calm but dipped in venom.

Archer was ready to knock his father out, it wasn’t something that would be a first for him.

“Long enough.” Sr’s jaw flexed.

“Then why you wasting money still paying for a dorm that I just use as a prop and storage space?” Archer tilted his head.

“You hope I snap out of it? Or you just scared that your empire might crack if people find out that this perfect son you painted me out to be prefers slanging drugs over law books.”

“You’re going to lose everything. You keep this up, Archer, and I swear I’ll cut you off…Completely.” Sr. balled his fist, ready to chance it all by knocking some common sense into Archer’s face.

Archer stepped forward, too close, his voice dropping dangerously low.

“Do it, I dare you.” He sneered in Sr’s face.

He wasn’t talking about his father cutting him off, he wanted him to hit him so he could show him just how much of an unseasoned pussy he really was.

“Archer, sweetie.” Karen’s voice cut through the tension.

“Your father’s just worried about you…we all are.” Karen’s voice held fake concern.

She was Archer’s so-called mom. Archer caught on early and had to discover on his own that Karen wasn’t his real mother.

He said something about it when he was ten years old.

Sr. beat him for disrespecting who he claimed was his real mother.

Archer wasn’t stupid, there was no way two fully white individuals could create a kid that looked more black than white.

He let them fake it ‘til they made it, like they did with everything else.

They both turned to Karen, who was still standing in the doorway.

She clutched her Tory Burch bag like it would shield her from the truth that hung in the air.

She despised everything about Archer; the feeling was mutual from Archer as well.

He was the kid that got sent to live in his own apartment at the age of fifteen — secretly.

He was also a reminder of how much of a dog her abusive, shitty husband truly was.

For the money and the title, along with all the perks, she endured it all when it came to Archer Sr.

Karen learned a long time ago to get with the program and stroke her weak-minded husband’s ego.

“Oh, I’m fine, just getting my education and a little head on the side whenever the fuck I feel like it.” Archer snapped with a sadistic smirk that tugged at his lips.

Karen stepped past the threshold of the door and slammed it.

Her eyes darted to the pill tray on top of his desk then back to Archer.

She took in his blood-shot eyes, the red a stark contrast to his pale blue irises, making them look discolored.

Shaking her head, she tooted her nose to the ceiling and fake coughed like she was choking from the smell of weed.

“Well, he gets that wildness from her anyway—” Her lips clamped shut quickly but it was too late.

Archer’s smile curled mockingly, he looked over at Sr. and chuckled dryly by how pale his face got.

“Her, huh?” He repeated, dragging the words out like a blade.

“So, what I already knew was true?” He bit his bottom lip then looked back at his father for answers.

Sr. turned to Karen with a pissed off look on his face.

“Karen.” Sr. hissed out.

“Fuck all of that!” Archer’s voice cut through their awkward stare down.

“You lied to me my whole life.” Archer laughed.

All he could do was laugh through all the disappointment his father gave him.

“This white bitch, you paraded around like my mother, feeding me legacy dreams and country club hand me downs was just a fucking place holder and?—”

“Archer!” Sr. cut off Archer’s hurtful words.

“You’re my son, and I love you…Karen is your mother! She has?—”

“Fuck that and fuck you! I ain’t shit but your mistake that you kept in the dark long enough to believe I’d never find the fuckin’ switch!” Archer’s voice elevated, which pissed him off for getting out of character.

He could talk hatefully and get mad, but he never liked to raise his voice much because he felt like that took up too much of his energy.

“Archer—”

“Where is my real mother?” He struggled to get the words out.

A painful lump rose in his throat, although he knew all along the truth. It pained him to not know who his biological mother was. His entire life, he had gone without a mother’s love. It’s part of what made him cold and void of any emotions.

“K—Karen is your mother.” Sr. said confidently.

For a second, Archer’s shoulders dropped in defeat. He refused to allow his chin to drop, too. He quickly masked all of his emotions and looked his father in the eyes with a blank expression.

“Remember, you made me this way. So don’t be surprised when I burn down your whole damn blueprint.”

He snatched his hoodie from the back of his chair and picked up another blunt from his desk. Sr. and Karen started to argue as Archer made his way to the door.