Page 2 of Want Me
Upside:for once, I wasn’t nodding off in Western Civ II. Downside: it was because I was replaying last night. It wasn’t anything dramatic, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t been caught jerking off before; I had the typical embarrassing horror show of my mom almost catching me more than a few times, and Jesse had walked in on me once in the dorms. I’d busted him at least twice, and we always laughed it off.
So Eric throwing my door wide—which I’d stupidly forgotten to lock—to find me sitting bare-assed on the small couch by my bed that faced the door while I was jacking my shaft shouldn’t have been all that big of a deal. Except: I also had a finger screwed deep my ass. And then: I came all over my fist while he was still standing there wide-eyed. Maybebecausehe was standing there wide-eyed. I wasn’t certain, yet, and it wasn’t like he’d done anything unusual. He’d initially muttered a “Shit man, sorry” and started to back away, but his eyes lingered, sketching a quick path from my face to my crotch. I had one leg up on a little coffee table and had slouched low on the couch to get to my ass, so there was plenty for him to look at, but still, he’d seemed mostly unruffled. I was the one who came apart. He paused, just for a second, as thick bursts of cream pulsed from the head of my cock while I gasped through my orgasm. There was something in his expression then, a brief darkening that I could’ve sworn was arousal as he stood openmouthed at the doorway. Then he tugged the door quickly shut behind him.
After he was gone, I cleaned myself up and went about business as usual, but I kept getting the visual of him standing in that doorway, wondering what it would have been like if he’d been there the whole time. Or if he’d stayed. Did seeing me get him hard? Did he jerk off afterward? What if he’d stayed and done it in front of me? What if, what if, what-ifs on fucking repeat. What-ifs that didn’t belong in a brain primarily devoted to tits and ass, keg parties, and maintaining a GPA decent enough to keep a scholarship.
I thought I’d resolved that kind of curiosity a long time ago, but now I wasn’t so sure, and it was fucking with my head in a major way. All through class, my imagination kept serving up raunchy images of Eric jacking his meat, then through Professor Lingen’s boring-ass nasal monotone in poli-sci. Even when I grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria and took it out on the lawn to eat, my mind was wandering, my eyes roaming over the other students walking by, playing tricks on me by painting Eric’s lean proportions over every dark-haired dude who walked past. Usually I was ogling chicks, though on occasion I’d look at a guy,reallylook at him, and yeah, there was the odd moment here and there that my cock gave a little twitch.
Today I ignored the bouncy-haired, big-cleavaged girls altogether and focused on the guys, studying them to see if any of them got me going. Nothing. Nada. I mean, I recognized a few of them as attractive, but none of them sent tingles zinging through my balls the way Eric had last night. So maybe it wasn’t about Eric or guys, maybe it was the circumstance? Maybe I’d just inadvertently unlocked some exhibitionist kink and it wasn’t worth working myself up into a sexual identity crisis over.
I finished my sandwich, balled up the plastic wrapper, and stuffed it into my pocket, then checked my watch. Fifteen minutes left until my next class, and then I was done. I figured I’d head to the gym after that, then home to plow through a paper Professor Lingen had assigned last minute like a jerk.
When I looked up again, I spotted Eric—the real one this time—cutting across the quad with a guy and a girl I didn’t recognize. He had a whole circle of friends I didn’t know. Some of the guys in our house knew him better—Jesse and he seemed to especially get along. He occasionally came out with all of us, but I didn’t know a lot about him beyond that he was majoring in structural engineering. And currently minoring in confusing my dick.
I studied him from behind, the way his jeans hugged his thighs and ass, the broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist emphasized by the slim-fit navy T-shirt he had on.
As if Eric felt me watching him, he turned a look over his shoulder, spotting me as he scanned the quad, then lifted his hand. I raised mine back. The guy he was with squeezed Eric’s bicep, and he turned away, leaning in as the guy brushed a kiss across his cheek. It was quick, simple, friendly, I guess. But a tiny current of electricity ran through me. Surely that wasn’t fucking jealousy. No. I refused to even consider that, gritting my teeth at myself and shouldering my backpack as I stood. The guy cut off in a different direction, and Eric and the girl walked into the Arts building together.
* * *
The next twodays passed without any more out-of-the-ordinary occurrences, aside from the fact I was still stuck on Eric and that my fantasies had grown increasingly, dangerously vivid. I’d jacked off imagining his hand in the place of mine more times in those forty-eight hours than I wanted to admit.
When I got back to the house from the gym late Thursday afternoon, it was quiet. Ansel was probably at practice again, Eric’s car was gone, and Jesse? Who knew. Mark would be helping prep for the mixer tonight—the mixer I suddenly wished I was able to go to. Maybe I just needed to get laid. A while ago, I’d broken it off with a girl I’d seen off and on for months and hadn’t gotten laid since. Yeah, maybe I just needed to get back into the mix. If not tonight, then for sure later this weekend. Mark would be down for some barhopping and ogling, and it was highly probable a nice pair of tits and a pretty smile would cure me of all this stupid agita over Eric.
Feeling better about the whole situation, I dropped my backpack off in my room and headed to shower off the reek of sweat before making dinner and cracking down on some studying.
I closed the door behind me, got down my toiletry kit, and turned on the shower while I shaved, letting steam fill up the room. Eric’s caddy was sitting on the top of the toilet, and I eyed it as I rinsed the razor. Jesse, Eric, and I shared the upstairs hall bath, while Mark paid more for the room downstairs with its own bath and Ansel got the hall bath downstairs, which was fine with him because his track career meant he was hardly around anyway.
A bottle of cologne was sticking out of Eric’s kit, and before I could really think about what I was doing, I reached for it, tugging off the cap to sniff the spritzer. The scent enveloped me—dark and rich, masculine without being overbearing. It smelled different on his skin, though, when I caught a whiff of him walking down the hall or when he’d come into my room the other night. There was an additional layer, a kind of musky primal scent that I guess was just him.
I glanced in the mirror, catching sight of myself, cheeks slightly flushed, blond hair wild, my nose to the bottle like a fucking fiend. I immediately capped the bottle and threw it back in his caddy. What the hell was I even doing? This verged on creeper status, for fuck’s sake. I decided I’d text Mark after I got out of the shower and lock him into the weekend stat before I progressed to the really shady shit like scoping out Eric’s bedroom or sniffing his boxers or something.
The house was stillquiet when I emerged from the bathroom, and I threw on some cotton track pants before heading down to the kitchen to make some grub. The contents of the fridge were dismal. I finally unearthed a frozen chicken dinner among bottles of vodka in the freezer and ate it while thumbing a quick text to Mark about the weekend.
Sure thing, man, he replied when I said I needed outing plans that included getting laid.Will see if I can rustle up a few hotties for the weekend.
Relief in sight. Even if I didn’t get laid—and there was no reason that I shouldn’t; I didn’t usually have to try very hard—dedicated female company should get my dick back in line. It had always worked before.
After I finished my meal and gave a cursory clean to the kitchen, throwing a pile of dishes in the dishwasher, I had no other viable procrastination options unless I wanted to go grocery shopping. So I headed upstairs to study.
I was an hour into it, crouched on the couch over the open books on my coffee table. I had a desk, but it was swarmed by my laptop and a bunch of other papers. My head swam with equations and derivatives, and I was considering taking a break, making a snack, then having a quick jerk, when I heard footsteps on the stairs. The bedroom door was cracked, and I could tell by the heavier footfalls it was Eric. Jesse usually ran up and was smaller, lighter on his feet than Eric’s compactly muscled physique. I caught a glimpse of his shirtsleeve as he passed by, and I let out a breath.That’s right, just keep on going, dude.
The footsteps stopped, then Eric came into view again as he took a few backward steps and paused at the door. His loud rap nudged the door wider.
“Yeah?”
He opened the door fully and leaned against the frame, arms folding over his chest. “Figured I’d wait for a verbal confirmation this time.”
I gave him a tight smile. “No prob. That was my bad for forgetting to lock it in the first place.” I felt my cheeks start to flame, but he didn’t bat a lash, just scrutinized me and shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing to worry about.”
He eyed the books on the table in front of me and then flickered a look up at me. “How’s it going?”
I shrugged. “Not so bad. Just…tedious, I guess.”
“Cool.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing around my room and then back at me. His eyes were an intense, deep green, pine-needle green—which was about as poetic as I got—and they might as well have been real needles the way his look got under my skin and sparked in my groin. “Right. Well, then, I’ve got a paper to work on, so…”
“Actually—” The words launched from my chest, and I hoped they didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. “—I’m a little stuck on this one thing, if you wouldn’t mind. Maybe you can dumb it down for me or something.” I knew Eric was smart, though he didn’t call attention to it or anything. It was just the quiet confidence that seeped from him. While the rest of us were bitching about grades or courses, he never made a peep. But I’d noticed in our student forum announcements that he made the dean’s list every semester.
Another one of those sexy half-smiles that he excelled at rippled along the corner of his mouth. Eric removed his hands from his pockets, one dark brow bowing upward as he sauntered forward—and fuck if I didn’t like that, that little, almost playful quirk of his brow. My dick, too.