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Description Kevin goes to college where his gift for making guys he likes willing to casually touch him seems to intensify just as he’s moving in with his hunky older brother.

AddedMarch 2019
Updated11 May 2019



3 Parts tap bar to showtap bar to hide

Part 1

It’s not like I’m all that good-looking. I’m pretty okay, face-wise. My cheekbones are good, I guess. It’s not like having green eyes makes you automatically a sex god like it does in romance novels, and half the time you can’t see them anyway. I don’t even know why I get my hair cut, because the next thing I know it’s this long, dirty blond mess again. I’m constantly shoving it out of my face with my fingers, like my hand exists mostly to be a big comb or something. My body’s not all buff like I’d like it to be, either, just tall and stringy. All the muscles are there, but none of the bulges or curves. I could do a thousand push-ups, and I’d stand in front of the mirror all sweaty and ready to bust out and my muscles would just be looking back at me like, “What are you trying to do exactly?”

Despite all that, it’s hard not to notice that I have an… effect on guys I find really hot. It’s hard to put into words, but basically any guy I get wound up about suddenly starts paying a lot of attention to me. He gets all happy when I show up and sitting close and generally drawing us into this kind of intimate space together. Even when there’s twenty other people in the room, it becomes us interacting with them. Not long after that his hands start finding their way onto my shoulders, my arms, my waist—all like that’s just one of the ways guys connect with each other. And I find myself doing the same, because, fuck, this guy I’m into is right there in my personal space, relaxed and smiling like it calms him for me to be this close.

It’s all mundane, everyday stuff for him, us touching and caressing and holding each other, even while I’m having exploding hormones every moment I’m with him. Within hours of that first spark it gets so me touching him, or looking into his eyes, or eating with our chairs pulled next to each other and our legs pressing under the table just becomes our baseline normal.

And that’s… pretty much where it stays, because not once had it gone any further than that. It was the same torment over and over again. I notice a hot guy, he notices me, we get comfortable touching and caressing each other like that’s what guys do, and then my dick falls off, metaphorically speaking, because I’m hard all the time from being all up against this happy, cute, deliciously built guy who doesn’t seem to know my junk is even there. So the guy starts to lose his luster, my attraction falters, and the weird effect I have on him drops away. The fade-out, I call it. Just like that, one day it’s like he never so much as caressed my triceps while telling me about this funny thing that happened in chem lab, or sat next to me with our shoulders brushing at lunch, and I’m left with nothing but this infuriating sense of loss. It’s stupid, because I’m getting butthurt over something that was, at the time, really hot but also deeply frustrating. When it ends it’s like somebody changed the timeline and I’m the only one who remembers.

Frustrating… fuck, that’s not even the word for it. High school was three years of rabid hormones made five times worse by crazy annoying hugs, touches, and brilliant smiles from guys I wanted and couldn’t have, even when they were literally right there in my arms.

I had just decided to swear off even looking at guys when I suddenly noticed, at exactly the wrong moment, just how impossibly sexy my big brother is.

Kellen was a year ahead of me at State U., and since that was also where I was going, my family all held a secret Skype meeting while I was at school and decided, totally without me, that for the first semester at least I’d be bunking with him in his new apartment to save on the housing bill. This verdict was then imposed on me, over, I should note, my very impassioned attempt at a veto. I had a pretty good idea what living with him would be like away from our parents’ oversight, and I did not want to spend the next few semesters picking up his smelly sweat-socks and cleaning his pubic hair out of the shower drain.

And that wasn’t even taking into account him not knowing about me being gay. Mom and dad knew—they’re the kind of parents who check browser histories, a fact I cottoned onto just that much too late. They were uneasy with it at first, and while they did come around soon enough their hesitation set off alarms about Kellen. I made them promise not to tell my bro-tastic brother. I had no idea how he’d react, and it seemed easier not to have to find out.

But as the most junior member of the familial unit I had the smallest say, and so, come late afternoon on Freshman Move-In Day, I found myself on the doorstep of smart-looking three-story brownstone townhouse two short blocks from campus, gripping hard on the heavy suitcases in each hand. I was unsure about everything in that moment: about rooming with Kellen, about whether I’d do well in college-level classes, about the half-dozen boxes of clothes and supplies our tall, bald dad was currently unloading from the SUV and if they would be too much or not enough… Basically I was a mess, and probably radiating all kinds of frazzled vibes.

I belatedly realized I’d need to set down one of the suitcases so I could ring the bell for the third-floor apartment, but before I even started to move the door flew open and Kellen was right there in front of me—wearing jeans and nothing else.

I stared. Kellen… Kellen looked damn good.

He’d always been a bit of a jock, but his main focus in high school was track. Back then all of his physical training had gone into speed and stamina. Upstairs he hadn’t looked that different from me, as I recalled it, apart from being hairier across the chest and down the abs, and overall looking a little more compressed than me thanks to topping out a couple inches shy of my lanky six-foot-three. Not that I’d paid a lot of attention to him, frankly. He was a social animal and wasn’t home much, always out laughing and schmoozing with friends and teammates when he wasn’t training. And I was consumed with grades, drama club, and the private bliss/agony of my strange gift.

But a year at college had totally transformed my brother. He had a “freshman fifteen” all right, and, from the looks of it, every ounce of it had manifested as solid, hard muscle packed firmly onto his tanned, compact frame. His traps were round, his delts were thick, his stubby, limber arms were perfectly sculpted, and his finely-haired pecs swelled out from his chest like a fitness model’s—from an alternate universe where fitness models were allowed to have chest hair. Best and most shocking of all, below that firm, tight chest was my own personal wet dream: eight brick-cut abs carved deep in a flat, zero-fat abdomen, with a dark line of scruffy hair descending right down between them straight into the loose waistband of his old, battered jeans.

I yanked my eyes up to his face before they got into real trouble. I was already aware of how much my blood and skin were heating at the sight of him, and I hoped his mug wouldn’t make it any worse, but I was shit out of luck there, too. His features had subtly matured in concert with his new workout regimen, leaving his casually unshaven jawline firmer and sharper than I remembered and his face more handsome from a dizen subtle refinements. His lips, which were already curving in a smile, were full and dark red against his slightly olive skin, and some dark and secret corner of my brain started obsessively cataloguing from that moment all the dirty things I wanted those stubble-ringed lips to do to me. His near-black hair was jarringly short now, mercilessly cropped back from the shoulder length cascade he’d cultivated in high school to maybe a couple inches at most. At the moment his dark crop was damp and toussled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He looked hale and fresh and full of energy—like someone who could fuck for hours, my treacherous brain thought, already getting all the wrong ideas.

Our eyes met, and… fuck. Fuuuuuck. My pulse sped up as we locked gazes and raw arousal washed through me. My stupid dick, always too ready to go hard at a moment’s notice even in the most innocent of circumstances, twitched and started thickening up like it was determined to make a fool of me. Even my balls tightened, like they were soldiers readying for action. This is not happening, I thought feverishly. This is my bro-tastic jock brother… who is also my fucking roommate, I added with an internal growl. This is so… not… happening… My hands tightened around the suitcase handles, as if I were literally trying to get a grip as I stared into my brother’s drown-in-them sexy-hot eyes.

Kellen’s eyes. Kellen’s eyes were… so, okay, they were this really rich light brown, almost copper in color, and I admit I’d always though they were sort of fascinating. I’d joked once when I was a little kid that someone must’ve shoved pennies in his eyes and they’d gotten stuck there, and he’d smirked back that someone had poured lime Kool-Aid in mine, and the silly idea had stuck with us, with me calling him Penny or Abraham Lincoln or Honest Abe or whatever and him calling me lime-aid, or mojito, or anything bright green that came to mind pretty much from then on. Kiwi was a favorite, often shortened over the years to just the first syllable, Key.

Those eyes, though. I knew them, or thought I did. They’d always been beautiful. But right now, they were… it was like they were terra incognita to me. Right now, those coppery eyes were filled with… they were filled with…

My stomach sank as I understood what I was seeing. A little shiver of panic raced down my spine. Kell’s eyes were filled with that way-simple, easy delight at the sight of me I’d seen a dozen times before. Not brotherly disdain, not that smirking, condescending toleration I knew so well. No, those eyes were kindled. They were alight. Damn it, those pull-you-in coppery eyes were sparking with whatever the fuck it was I did to hot, delicious guys that I wanted to fuck around with and would never be able to.

My dumb, treacherous dick was almost completely hard now, and I had no way to do a thing about it thanks to my hands being completely occupied with the two thousand-pound suitcases I was white-knuckling in that moment. My skin was heating up, and my heart was pounding so hard I was sure he would be able to hear it. The only things I had going for me were that my jeans were thick and black and so would probably hide my boner for a while… and Kellen was too busy staring into my eyes, like that was something we did, and therefore was too busy to take in my all-over physical reaction to him.

Then he smiled, and… fuck, that smile was so wide and brilliant I nearly shot a load in my shorts just from how beautiful it was and the gift of it being meant especially for me. He slid his strong, nicely developed arms low around my torso and gave me hard squeeze, pressing his yummy, half-naked body tightly against mine. “Damn, Kool-Aid,” he said in my ear, “it is awesome to see you. You look great!”

“Thanks, Pen,” I said shakily, feeling incredibly awkward and conflicted. I let him hug me for a long moment, glad to have to excuse of the suitcases not to have to worry about reciprocating and hoping he couldn’t feel my hard-on trying to stab him in the hip. He slapped my back and pulled back, keeping hold of my flanks as he grinned at me. I decided to try for banter. “So,” I said, “do they not have shirts in this town, or what?”

“Nope!” Kellen said happily. “City ordinance. Very strictly enforced. Need some help with that, Pop?” he asked abruptly, looking over my shoulder without letting go of me with his grin still in place. I didn’t have to look to know what he was seeing. No doubt our do-everything dad was struggling up the porch steps with half the boxes I’d brought with me.

“Just point me toward the stairs,” came dad’s jaunty voice, sounding as if he was talking to us from the other side of a wall or something. I did turn to see then and, sure enough, he was completely hidden behind the three boxes he was carrying. Kellen let go of me and moved to snatch the top two boxes off the stack. “Hey!” dad objected.

“Leave it for the young and spry, Pop,” Kellen said, tossing him a cheeky grin before turning and heading nimbly up the stairs. Dad hmphed and trailed behind. I followed, noting the door to the ground-floor apartment as we passed. I wondered if they were students too. Probably, given how convenient the location was to campus. I started up the stairs after them, my ponderous bags starting me wondering why I’d brought anything at all with me.

Soon all my stuff was piled in the corner of my new room, ready to be unpacked. The room itself was a size smaller than my bro’s next to it and was pretty sparse: white walls, hardwood floors, a bare queen-sized bed, a dresser and a desk. I was fine with it. It was like a blank slate for me to create my own new life out of. The rest of the apartment was similar, actually. There was a simple kitchen; a decent sized living room with a deep, comfy couch, a low coffee table, and a big TV mounted on the exposed brick wall opposite; a narrow but clean and usable bathroom with no tub but a big enclosed tub shower; and Kellen’s room, which looked remarkably clean—no stinky sweatsocks in sight, though I did spot a pair of dumbbells and a curl bar by the wall under the window.

Kellen invited dad to share in the pizza he’d ordered just before we’d arrived, but he demurred and said he’d better be getting back—mom was due in from her latest extended business trip and (he said with a wink) they had “plans”. Kellen laughed and I shuddered. I was kind of hoping this talk of parental shenanigans might blunt my dick’s current enthusiasm; but my ungovernable cock was all about Kellen at the moment, and my racing pulse hadn’t slowed down either.

We walked him down, fortuitously meeting the pizza guy just coming up the front steps, and I grabbed the pie and accompanying two-liter while Kellen paid. Kellen hugged dad goodbye. I just smiled and nodded toward my foodly cargo, glad to have an excuse not to hug, and we headed upstairs. This time, without our dad or the ephemeral sheen of moving in, the whole way up I felt like I was entering into the unknown… and I was more than a little conflicted about what might come next. The best I could hope for was that I was just having a reaction to seeing Kellen after he’d been away for a year. I’d been keyed up about going off to college, and seeing how hunky Kellen had gotten had totally just dumped my hormones into overload. It was all temporary, I told myself a little manically. A good night’s sleep and I’d be back to seeing him as my jerk brother, and the fade-out and reset would happen like always and the whole touchy-feely thing would never even have been a thing between us.

I can be a bit delusional sometimes.

The moment we were back in the apartment Kellen draped his left arm over my shoulder, and my whole body tingled with how good it felt. He used that arm to steer me toward the coffee table where I set down my burdens, and then he pulled be back onto the deep, cozy couch with him. “You’re gonna love this pizza, Kev,” he said, settling in against me with his arm still around my shoulders. He gestured toward the box with his other hand. “It’s definitely the best on campus. I can’t get enough,” he added with a wicked grin that went straight to my nuts. The whole time he was talking the fingertips of his left hand were gently stroking my shoulder. I doubted if he even knew he was doing it, but I sure did.

“You can’t be eating too much of it,” I couldn’t help saying, nodding down at his tight, perfect, slightly fuzzy stomach. “I wish I had abs like that.” I was having trouble keeping my eyes off those racks of mesmerizing muscle—especially the way those carved delineations were softened by his demure but serious treasure trail. It was getting dark, and the standing lamp by the couch, the main illumination in the room now, was casting a soft, warm light on Kellen’s lightly tanned olive skin, making it even more irresistible to me.

“C’mon, yours are pretty tight,” Kellen said. To my surprise he reached over with his other hand and rubbed my abs. Not through the shirt—no, he dove his hand under my baggy tee shirt and gave my belly a quick fondle, smiling the whole time. Then, while I was still gaping at him, he pulled his hand out, grabbed my left wrist, and splayed my hand right onto his exposed eight-pack. “See?” he said. “Feel.”

I tried to pull my hand back, but he still had it by the wrist. Just humor him, I told myself. This will all to the fade out thing by tomorrow. Of course just humoring him meant caressing the sweetest abs I’d ever been this close to, and given my history that was saying something, so I didn’t have to try hard to convince myself to go with it just for tonight while normality went about slowly reasserting itself in the background.

Reality version one reinstall now downloading, I told myself. ETA: the cold light of dawn.

I moved my hand slowly along his abs, first up, then down, then up again. He let go of my wrist and beamed at me. “Right? Not so different,” he said, squeezing my shoulder with his other hand. Then, as if to belie his own statement, he crunched his abs slightly, firming them up under my caress. A cool shiver slid down my spine.

“Don’t flex like a douche,” I grumbled, stilling my hand, and he relaxed.

“Keep going, that feels nice,” he said, and my dick tried to get harder at his casual intimacy. He release his little crunch, and after a moment’s hesitation I resumed my gentle ministrations, very slowly sliding my hand up and down his stomach, letting the fingertips catch in the carved divides between his ab muscles. Honestly, these things should be in a museum. One of those touch museums where you can truly appreciate their awesomeness—except, no, I wasn’t keen on anyone but me getting to do what I was doing in that moment.

“So you like them all relaxed, huh?” he asked after a moment, his tone slightly teasing.

“I just don’t like douche-canoe muscle heads who spend all day eye-fucking themselves in the mirror,” I said. It was a peeve for me now. I hadn’t really cared one way or another until I’d accidentally netted one of those tools with my touchy-feely gift, and let’s say the luster on my end had sure worn off fast with that one. He had a great body, with square, stacked pecs bigger than Kellen’s rounder ones and abs almost as nice, but working out and shaping the results were literally all he cared about. Plus he shaved his chest, which—okay, I get wanting the smooth look for pictures and posing to show definition, but the guy was a born lumberjack type and it just looked weird on him.

It suddenly occurred to me that any more talk about muscle guys and my preferences appertaining thereto might just start clueing Kellen in on my inclinations re: gals versus dudes, and I wasn’t there yet. Not with literally everything else new and unsure in my life. Ignoring my rebellious boner I patted his stomach and sat forward. “Pizza’s gonna get cold,” I said, tossing open the box and drawing in a long, happy whiff of its cheesy goodness. I pulled a little stack of paper plates and a couple of cheap plastic cups from the bag that had come with the delivery. “Be a shame if it’s as good as you say,” I went on. I opened the two-liter Dr. Pepper with a snap and poured us each a cup.

Kellen grunted amenably. He bent forward too, checking the now-empty paper bag and then looking around the coffee table, while I recapped the soda and started for the pizza. “Looks like they forgot to send napkins,” he said. “It’s a little greasy—you’d better pull off your shirt.”

“What, you don’t have any—hey!” Before I could finish my incredulous calling out of his not possessing a roll of paper towels even, he’d grabbed my loose, thin tee shirt with both hands and started hauling it over my head. He got it free easily enough and tossed it negligently aside to the other end of the couch, like it might vanish there the moment it was forgotten. I automatically made to push back my hair, which the tee-shirt removal had messed up, but Kellen beat me to it, carding his hand slowly through my thick, unruly, dirty blond locks and shoving the mass of hair away from my face. I was looking at him with wide eyes, and when our gazes met again it was like that fucking spark happened all over again. He stared into my eyes, smiling, for several seconds before I cleared my throat. “Pizza, dude,” I said.

He blinked and nodded. “Yeah, I’m starved. Pull us some slices, Key. You want to watch anything?” He grabbed the remote off the arm of the sofa and flipped on the TV while I went back to slipping a couple of very cheesy slices each from the large pie onto two little stacks of flimsy paper plates. Kellen was scrolling through the index channel. “Ooo, Die Hard is on.” He immediately switched over to it.

I laughed as I handed him his slices. “Kellen, man, could you be any more of a bro?” I asked. He grinned as he took the plate from me. “Seriously, how many times have you seen this?” I needled him.

“C’mon, you love this movie,” he tossed back, subsiding back into the couch. Once again he pulled me back with him, his muscled arm again ensconced around my now-bare shoulders like it belonged there, and with a sigh I let him. He was right—I did love this movie, just as much as he did. The couch was really deep and very nice to lean back into. In our half-supine state we laid our slices on our bellies, which, given the greasy, cheesy nature of the stuff, felt like a positive insult both to my flat belly and to his fine, cold-brewed eight-pack. We settled comfortably against each other and immersed ourselves in John McClane’s very bad day. I wasn’t really paying much attention to how were almost cuddling, though every once in a while my unrelenting erection jumped in my pants, and, as I often had in the past, I felt a little guilty pang with regard to my not-so-little guy who’d never get what it wanted out of my cruel gift. It was like I was leading it on, letting it expect or at least hope for some hot action with this wonder guy of true, fireman-calendar-level hotness, only to get stuck in the end settling for yet another date with Rosie Palms like always.

We tore through the pizza and then just laid back and just watched the movie together. I was actually half-dozing by the end, my head resting lightly on Kellen’s meaty shoulder, so I didn’t really remember seeing the last quarter or so of the flick (not that I needed to—teasing aside, the truth was I’d seen it almost as many times as he had). I definitely didn’t notice him setting aside our empty, greasy pizza plates and contentedly moving my hand back onto his eight-pack like it belonged there at some point during the movie. I surfaced from a cozy half-sleep as the credits rolled with my cheek resting on high up on his very comfortable chest, my hand automatically slow-stroking his just-hairy-enough washboard abs, and my dick so hard I thought I might blow a fuse from how turned on I was.

All at once the TV was off and Kellen’s eyes were closed, a happy smile on his face. The remote hung loose in the hand that wasn’t curled around me. The softly lit room was dark and quiet, like a calm embrace. Honestly, we were both so comfortable, apart from my towering arousal, that we could have just stayed there and spent the night like that on Kellen’s deep, comfy couch.

I should have stopped caressing his abs, but… I was already feeling kind of addicted to the feel of them and the illicit, forbidden permission to touch them. Hey, if he’s letting me, why not? I thought muzzily, conveniently forgetting how my gift/curse seemed to alter what the guys I was into thought they wanted. I kept stroking though, slow and languid, and Kellen was almost purring. There was heat coming from his groin, too, and even a bit of movement, and—nope, nope, I was not going there. Not literally, not mentally, no way, no how. Abs were enough, way enough. I drew the line at his waistband—that’s what I told myself, and I was pretty firm about it. That’s how this thing worked, anyway, especially in the other direction. Or at least, that’s how it had always worked before.

Don’t think about cocks. This will all be forgotten in the morning. I started preparing myself mentally to disentangle from Kellen in a few minutes. In a few minutes, I would get up, walk into my bedroom, get into bed for a good night’s sleep, and…

“Unh,” I murmured into Kellen’s slightly prickly chest hairs, remembering my naked, unmade bed. “I don’t even know where my sheets are.”

“Leave it for tomorrow,” Kellen sighed without opening his eyes. He gripped my shoulder in what was becoming his signature move and got us to our feet. I stumbled with him around the low, wide coffee table and across the carpeted living room, until I realized where we were headed and balked. Faint alarm bells started clanging somewhere in my head. Maybe not a good idea. Right? Cuddling on the couch was one thing, but… if I was counting on all this blowing over by morning, that was a lot more likely to happen if we didn’t spend tonight sleeping curled up in the same bed together.

“You know what, it’s okay,” I said, stopping short. “I think my sheets are actually in that first box there.”

“Dude, c’mon,” Kellen begged, still sounding half-asleep. “We haven’t hung together in, like, a year. Lots of lost time to make up!” He tugged at me with the arm he had around my shoulder.

“We never really ‘hung’,” I objected weakly.

Kellen turned a little to faced me, still with his arm around my shoulder. He was very close, his pecs brushing against my less impressive ones, and he was acting like that was absolutely, totally normal for us. Then he cupped my cheek, and I almost swooned, because right at that very moment I felt his hardon bump casually against mine. He seemed not to notice, or if he did, it was like bumping elbows with me accidentally. Totally just us dudes. “C’mon, Key, just for tonight,” Kellen said with a big, sleepy smile.

I don’t think I had a working brain cell left to even simulate self-will at that point. I just nodded, and he hauled me under his arm right into his room.

Neither of us bothered with the light. We’d managed to leave the gentle standing lamp in the living room burning, and enough of that was spilling in here to work with. I was still marveling at how neat and clean it was when Kellen disengaged from me long enough to shuck his old jeans in one smooth motion, catch them up in his hands, fold them twice, and set them in a neat, perfect square on top of the dresser, ready to wear tomorrow if he chose. I was so taken aback by this behavior, which evidently reflected the new, adult and independent Kellen, that it took me a moment to register that he was now naked and massively, unselfconsciously boned, his fat, uncut cock following the line of his hip to the left as if it wanted to stick its head out like a thumb and hitch a ride somewhere.

He pulled back the covers on one side of the bed and dropped into it, lying there expectantly with his hairy ankles crossed and his hands behind his head.

“Uhhhh…” I said, my brain completely stalled and inoperable. Then, while I was chewing on Kellen’s cavalierly turgid nudity, it was at this moment that I realized that he hadn’t been wearing underwear this whole time. Literally the only thing happening in my skull over the next few seconds was my eyeballs staring at Kellen’s fat, very hard dick and my ears listening to my long, heavy breaths, like I’d prank-called myself.

He was grinning up at me, completely mistaking what I was frozen up over. “Gotta sleep raw in college,” he said, totally as if his massive erection wasn’t going to be sharing the bed with us. “Them’s the rules.” His eyebrow was crooked in that classic big-bro “are you going to be a little kid” expression.

“Uh huh,” I said dubiously. But I was already divested of my shirt, I had no peejays, and… fuck, I wasn’t going to sleep in my underwear, not if Kellen was looking for proof of wussiness.

Without ceremony I pulled off my own clothes, glad we hadn’t turned on the bedroom light, and, studiously ignoring my own longer, slightly thinner, hair-trigger erection, I climbed into bed on the other side and pulled up the covers over us. He immediately rolled onto his side, throwing a heavy leg over mine and a thick, powerful arm over my chest. He sighed and immediately relaxed. “Dude, you’re totally sleeping in here from now on,” he decided, sounding drowsy and infinitely content. “Sleeping ‘lone sucks.” He snuggled closer, and I tried not to notice the wet tip of his dick sliding against the side of my butt-cheek, or the way my own rigid, frenzied cock now seemed likely to be flailing against my belly like a gasping fish for the entirety of my existence. His fingers started absently caressing my skin where his hand was firmly planted on my chest, even as his own breathing started to become more and more slow and even. Apparently cuddling with me was all you needed to be find deep, uncomplicated serenity.

“Can’t wait to show you ‘round campus tomorrow,” he mumbled sleepily. “Guyzer gonna love you. Like me.” And then he was gone, snoring softly against my shoulder, leaving me to ponder whether tomorrow might just get even weirder than today. I was tired too, though, and drifted off into dreams that were not that different from what I’d just been experiencing half-asleep, except in my dreams our bed was in the middle of the campus quad, and the sun was out and all the hot guys on campus were paying us no mind, just walking past singly or in little groups, or hanging out on the benches talking, or playing frisbee on the lawn. I missed at first how they were naked and hugely boned, too, like us, but they didn’t seem to notice, not even when they began making out, a few at a time and then the whole lot of them, and soon they started cumming. Of course they were. After all, we were cumming too…

I woke with a start, heart thundering and skin flushed, and I realized I had actually blasted cum all over my lower abs. Kellen’s hand was exactly where it had been, and his leg too, so the climax was pure pleasure overload from how incredibly hot it was sharing touches with Kellen. I lay there for a second, willing myself to die quickly and horribly from my embarrassment, before Kellen, sounding 90% asleep, muttered, “Tissues ‘r on th’ nightstan’.” Stunned, I reached for the tissues and mopped myself up, feeling dizzy.

The touch thing had always seemed to work on precedent—that first touch became a “touching is what we do” thing, and it was all normal. Well, if that was how it worked, we’d already dropped precedents for touching, cuddling, being naked and hard together, and blowing your load while we were all bundled together. My lizard brain was dancing in pure happiness, loving every second, while the more rational precincts of my grat matter were left to wonder about where these ripples would take me. If we were starting with sleeping together and blowing loads with each other like it was no big deal where would we go from here?

Part 2

I opened my eyes the next morning to Kellen’s handsome, stubbly, beaming face practically filling my vision, though I could tell that the room behind him appeared to be painted in vigorous morning sunlight. “Time to wake up, roomie!” he announced cheerily, displaying far more morning exuberance than I’d expected any college student to be capable of, much less my habitually late-sleeping jockbro brother.

He was directly on top of me, his knees straddling my lanky thighs as he leaned on his palms, which were planted on either side of my shoulders. The room was comfortably warm enough that I’d kicked off the sheet at some point, which meant that there was nothing but air between my slightly pale body and Kell’s darker, more muscled frame. In a few places we were just barely touching, and I could feel each point of contact warming my skin like it might burn if he stayed there long enough. Two were along my thighs on either side where Kell’s knees brushed gently against my legs, his soft, sparse leg hair almost tickling my sensitive skin as his legs shifted weight almost imperceptibly. Further down, his toes fidgeted restlessly, buffeting at my calves and shins as they moved about, like maybe they were always agitating whenever Kellen wasn’t paying them close attention, each toe seemingly curling and flexing independently of the rest.

Most excruciating of all, though, was his cock. It was hanging loose and heavy, not all the way soft, and the way that it hung from him as he loomed over me his dick was exactly the right length for the head to slide up and down, back and forth across across my aggravated, long-suffering balls as he shifted his weight this way and that. It had its own heat, and I could feel that too, radiating across my own heated groin and my seemingly almost incandescent and very rigid morning wood, the head of which, I knew without looking, hovered only a few inches from Kell’s hard, mouth-watering belly.

I stared up at him, wondering what was happening as I tried desperately to ignore our crotches and their little morning dance. What was Kell doing? At first I’d thought he’d just woken up himself, probably mostly on top of me already if last night was any indication, and had just hoisted himself up over me to get both our days started at the same time. But one of the three distinct smells I had been unconsciously appreciating as I’d surfaced from a very deep sleep was the familiar scent of fresh-made coffee, apparently drifting in from the kitchen. The other was Kell’s own personal musk, but I wasn’t going there. The third was spunk, very fresh and therefore very recent, and I was even less ready to ponder that.

The joe brewing in the other room told me that Kell had gotten up, started the coffeemaker at the very least, and then had climbed back on top of me in bed, still in the zero-boundaries, I-wanna-be-close-to-Kevin mode he’d shifted into so easily the previous evening. I wanted to groan at the obvious take-away, namely that it hadn’t been just the shock of seeing him, it hadn’t been just for the night, and so consequently there’d been no morning fade-out, no reset button, and no restoration of the status quo ante in terms of Kell and me. Except… fuck, there was no possible way I could ignore the fact that there wasn’t anyplace in the universe I wanted to be more than here in this bed, caged by my hot brother’s naked body. With the possible exception of the same thing, but with our positions reversed.

Kell was so into being close to me, though, that I was a little unnerved by the intensity of the effect on him. Usually the casual physical intimacy thing with guys I was into built a little slower than this, but somehow Kell seemed to have gotten an extra-heavy dose of my touch-me mojo. I decided to try fending him off with a little brotherly fractiousness. “Ugh, at least brush first if you’re going to wake me like this,” I groused.

He just laughed, then deliberately opened wide and gusted his breath all over my face. It actually wasn’t too bad—had he brushed first?—but I made a face and made as if to squirm my face out of range. This had the side-effect of spilling some of my bangs over my left eye. Out of habit I started to move my hand up to push it out of the way, but Kell was already there. Balancing easily on one hand, he carded his fingers through my bangs just as he’d done the night before, pushing the hair out of the way… only this time he kept going, running his digits deep into my fast-growing hair. As he moved, his warm dickhead slid subtly around on my balls like it was tracing a miniature Pollock on the taut canvas of my scrotum. Above it my raging erection stiffened even further at the dual stimulation, all of which was on top of Kell’s warmth, proximity, and provocative scent. I started making bets with myself on the odds of me spontaneously shooting my load all over my torso being a regular thing from now on, if Kell was prone to doing shit like this.

“Damn, Key, this is like a mane,” he marveled as he kept pushing his fingers through it, clearly oblivious to the way he was driving me nuts without even meaning to. “No wonder you’re always doing this.”

“Just pushing it out of the way,” I grumbled, but I’m not sure he heard me.

“It’s, like, thick but silky soft,” he went on, still playing with it. “Feels amazing.” The weird thing was, there was something in his voice that sounded almost like teasing, like I’d done that time Kell had done the cooking for Sunday brunch instead of dad and I hadn’t shut up about his awesome blueberry pancakes (which actually were pretty great) and how I’d never eat anything else ever, just to fuck with him—not that he’d cared. The way Kell was going on about my damned annoying hair, I couldn’t be sure if he was serious or if he was totally ragging on me. Plus, the heat from our crotches, and especially my hard-on, seemed to be slowly incrementing.

Man, if there’s that much heat now, imagine if there were fric—I stood on the brakes in my head. Nope! Nope, nope, nope. My dick jumped at even the thought of the idea, but that way led madness. Very, very sexy and delicious madness.

“Man, I’m going to be doing this even more often than you, every chance I get,” Kellen said. His eyes had been following his stroking fingers, but now they met mine again, and… damn, the spark in those bright, coppery eyes was damn near intoxicating. “Sound good?” he asked, dancing his dark eyebrows up and down at me. That confused me even more. What the fuck is Kell even thinking about all this? I wondered. I’d have been reassured that he was still my playful, jockbro brother, except that this was my jockbro brother being a hot guy who was crowding me with his hotness while both of us were naked on his bed and I was boned as fuck.

I stared up at him, flummoxed. “U-uh, sure,” I said uncertainly. Distractedly, my gaze drifted up to his dark crop of extra-short hair. I realized I wanted to coast my fingers through that shorn-short expanse just as much as I wanted him to keep touching mine.

This was mental. I needed to hit the escape key pronto. “Uh—hey, is that coffee I smell?”

“You bet,” Kell said easily. He was now drawing the hand he’d been using to stroke my hair down along the side of my cheek. “Let’s shower first, though.” His hand, now curled back and caressing my skin with the backs of the knuckles, kept sliding further down until it was ghosting along my bristly jaw. “And shave,” he added with a grin.

This only drew my gaze to the stubble that trailed along Kellen’s jaw, and around his delicious-looking mouth. I veered my eyes hastily off his face and tried not to focus on anything, but that only seemed to intensify the sensation of heat I was feeling and the masculine, Kellen-scented redolence wafting around us. It was only then that I registered what he’d said. “Wait—’let’s’?” I repeated.

Unable to shrug as he stroked my jaw with one hand while balancing on the other, Kell instead gave me that combination lower-lip lift/head tilt gesture that meant the same thing. “Why not?” he said. “It’s not a tub, but the stall’s extra-large—plenty big enough for us.” Abruptly he clambered up and out of the bed, somehow pulling me up to my feet alongside him.

It was a little disorienting for our horizontal intimacy to be over so suddenly, but he was already holding onto the hand he’d pulled me up with, and now he used it to pull me along after him, both naked and (in my case) with a huge, bobbing erection. “C’mon,” he said, “shower first, then breakfast, then we’ll go tour the campus before your orientation assembly thing.”

Shit, I thought, startled, as Kell dragged me behind him into the long, narrow bathroom. I completely forgot about first-years orientation. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about school. This was insane. What was developing between me and Kell was light-years ahead of any previous manifestation of the touch-me gift; and I was starting to realize that part of it was that I was more into Kellen than any other random hot guy I’d ever been into. There was more to it than just that, but I was starting to get that if I didn’t put the brakes on things there was a very serious risk that I might actually fall for Kell if I wasn’t careful. And then what would happen? That was that uncharted territory for the effects of my gift, on him and on me. Even more alarming was the end, because it always ended. Butthurt was one thing, but I’d never faced an actual broken heart over all this before.

I was so lost in my spiraling thoughts that I didn’t really catch up to what was going on until Kellen swiveled the shower head to aim the spray high-pressure warm water directly at my face. I sputtered, and he laughed. “Hey!” I objected, but I was laughing, too. The shower stall, it turned out, was indeed just big enough for two above-average-sized dudes. Best of all, the head was even high enough to accommodate my height—not usual in my experience and a definite plus. With the door closed and the steam rising up around us it was kind of different in here, like we were in an isolated space, and I started to relax a bit. I almost thought I could potentially get used to hanging around being nude and close and totally boned with Kell. It was starting to look like maybe I’d have to.

I always do my hair first, so as Kell grabbed the big bar of Irish Spring from the dish on the recessed shelf I dunked my hair fully under the sprat and then grabbed his totally generic shampoo, making a mental note to retrieve the big bottles of decent shampoo and conditioner I’d packed as soon as possible and maybe hide this stuff under the sink somewhere. I squeezed out a generous dollop of the smelly stuff and, replacing the bottle, got to working the shampoo into my mass of dirty-blond hair. It was only shoulder-length, at the moment, but it still required some effort to get clean and keep reasonably manageable, so I usually devoted some energy to it when I showered and had a kind of pattern I followed around my head. As I went about this routine I was trying not to watch as Kell soaped up his hard body. He started with the pits, then swiftly moved on to lathering his pecs, his arms, that amazing, tight washboard stomach I wanted to stroke—and had!—with the treasure trail leading straight down to his half-hard… I looked away and tried to concentrate on my hair, so I was caught by surprise when I felt Kell’s hands on me—he was soaping me up!

I froze, hands stilled in my now-foamy locks. “Watcha doing, Pen?” I asked cautiously, looking up at him. His gaze was following his soapy hands as they moved from my pits onto my chest and lats.

“Efficiency!” Kell said, sparing me a grin before returning to his work. “I do you, you do me,” he added, nodding up at the shampooey mass atop my head.

I snorted, glancing over at his machete-hacked hair—the same short, dark shag I’d been imagining running my hands over only a few moments earlier. I tried focusing on this goofy reciprocation idea he had going. “Dude, that’s not exactly an even trade,” I said. As I spoke Kell reached around me with both arms to soap up my back rather than telling me to turn around. “Doing your hair will take half as long as—” I sucked in a breath as I felt the bar of Irish Spring swipe between by buttcheeks, and hod to force myself not to jump. My incredibly hard and aching dick imagined Kell’s thick, blunt cock doing exactly the same thing, and the rest of me did, too, but it was over in a second as he bent to do my left leg. “—Uh, as a flea’s breakfast,” I finished awkwardly. It was one of our grampa’s favorite expressions. Grampa had probably never said it with a bar of soap between his cheeks, though.

“Heh, maybe I’ll grow it out,” Kell shrugged from where he was giving my left leg a rapid pass with both hands before moving on to the other.

I was staring down at him in utter disbelief, though I quickly became distracted by his broad upper back. There was a little flat mole near his left shoulder blade I’d never noticed before. “Naw, it’s okay, I kinda like it,” I said, only half-conscious of what I was saying as I let my gaze rake over his crouching form.

Finished with my other leg, he was already straightening up, a toothy grin splitting his face. The powerful shower spray was now hitting his back full on between the shoulder blades, and he responded to the pressure by moving unconsciously toward me a step. “Yeah?” he asked, replacing the bar of soap in the dish, like my opinion on the matter meant something to him—or maybe he was yanking my chain and just pretending it did. Today I had no idea.

I looked him right in those blazing coppery eyes and all at once my heart started tripping and stuttering. “Y-yeah,” I admitted. “Maybe needs a little shaping, but…” I trailed off, unsure what else to say. Then, just to move on from this inexplicable moment, I started in on his hair while he just beamed at me. Fortunately, his hair was so short I didn’t even need to get more shampoo—I could take care of what little he had with what lather was still on my hands.

“Cool,” he said. “Hey, you want me to take care of your—?” He completed the sentence by making a wanking gesture. He seemed utterly sincere. “I did mine earlier, although…” He glanced down at his heavy cock, which was definitely two-thirds of the way toward a full-on boner. “I might have to do it again. I am, like, so horny today.” His eyes lit up suddenly, but before he could suggest a efficient trade-off on that score, too, I grabbed those nice, round (unh, so nice) delts of his and forcibly shoved him under the spray.

“Rinse,” I instructed, then added, “That’s okay, bro, I’ll, uh, take care of myself this time. Thanks.” Shit, why did I say “this time”?

Kellen laughed and quickly rinsed himself off, then grabbed my shoulders and swiveled us around so I could do the same. As I was squeezing the shampoo out of my hair I saw his face light up with another great idea, and I almost groaned aloud. “Wait here!” he said, and before I could make a smart remark he pulled open the shower door and stepped out in to the foggy bathroom. He returned a moment later, closing the door before brandishing a can of cheap shave cream in one hand and two disposable razors in the other.

“Dude, disposable razors?” I said, arching an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged those perfect, pleasingly bulging shoulders. “Dude, I’ve been so meaning to get a fogless mirror like we have back home,” he said. “But this is better!” He handed me one of the cheap razors—seriously, I was no Queer Eye, but somebody needed to educate my jockbro bro a bit on grooming. He shooshed some shave cream into his palm, then, to my utter surprise—though really, I should haver seen it coming—he reached up and started smoothing the foaming shave cream onto my cheeks and jaw instead of his own. I stood there, not moving, my cock twitching like a mental patient, while he stood close to me and creamed up my face.

He smiled and handed me the can. “Now you do me,” he said.

You have got to stop saying things like that, I thought, and almost said it aloud. My heart was thundering in my chest. Gripping the can tight I released some of the cream onto my palm and shoved it onto the recessed shelf next to the soap dish and shampoo. He watched me with a smile, bare inches away from head to toe, waiting cheerfully for me to lather his face with shave cream. With a slightly quavering hand I reached up and slowly covered Kell’s dark bristles with soft, white foam. Kell was just having fun with this shared space bro-roomie stuff, but for me… I’d never done anything like this before, and it was… edifying to learn just how much of a turn-on this kind of close-in, shared masculinity was to me. The little hairs along his firm jaw felt so incredibly sexy under my fingertips as I lathered him up, it was like each and every one of them was tickling up my lower spine. As I moved my fingers around the contours of his face I could sense him breathing and feel the warmth of his shower-heated skin, and I knew he was aware of my closeness, too. It was unspeakably hot. Plus, the whole time I was doctoring his cheeks and jawline I found myself totally unable to avoid envisioning myself smearing a totally different thick white substance over that same tanned, bristly skin.

Fuck, if I didn’t rein in my dick it might happen for real any second now.

Almost in unison, we raised our razors. The simultaneous, mirrored motion was kind of ridiculous, and unexpectedly we both giggled, and I found myself easing my keyed-up arousal enough that I could actually do this thing, this mutual shaving thing, like it was just the usual bro on bro activity you’d find in any home in America. We made a game of it, aping each other the whole way, starting on the sideburns on one side before proceeding to the cheek, jawline, and neck before shifting to the other side. Synchronized shaving! With a little practice we could go in one of those TV talent shows, though in my case I’d definitely have to be filmed from the waist up. Or, well, okay, more like from the navel up. Kell was lucky in the way his big, blunt boner naturally tucked in right along his hip crease. Mine had always stuck up and out, no matter whether I was standing, sitting, or lying down. It was always sprung out and away, like it was trying to illustrate the exact perfect forty-five-degree angle for a geometry textbook. And if I’d had textbooks like that for middle school math class, maybe I’d have come out to myself a lot sooner than my sophomore year in high school when, in a world-changing revelation, I’d realized I was making cow eyes at Felix Cruz about thirty minutes before my very first full-on manifestation of that weird, wonderful, and ultimately incredibly frustrating swim-team-hottie-likes-to-touch-me mojo thing.

As we moved to the chin Kellen asked, “Ever think about a beard? A goatee might look good on you.” He pulled his lips over his teeth to stretch the skin and I followed suit.

I frowned. A goatee seemed like a way-adult thing to me. “‘Aybe when I’m ‘hirty,” I said as we did our upper lips. He snorted a laugh. Then the sync-shave routine was suddenly done. We set the razors in the shelf and dunked our faces in the spray one after another.

Kell was grinning ear to ear as he felt his face for missed bristles. “Man, it’s so much better doing it in here,” he said. “That’s a keeper for sure.” Then to my astonishment he kissed me right on the cheek. “Mmm, smooth,” he said happily. Before I could react, he went on, “You finish up in here, and I’ll go get breakfast ready. I, uh, got stuff for blueberry pancakes, since I know you like ‘em. Celebration, you know?” he added, sounding a bit uncertain for the first time. See, I knew that when he’d made them for brunch that time and I’d given him some stick for it, he’d known I’d been having a laugh, but he’d also seen that I’d actually had enjoyed them a lot. So I could guess that this week he’d made plans to do blueberry pancakes again on our first morning as roomies, because doing that would play with me in a teasing big-bro kind of way and yet still make me happy. Now, though, he was clearly wondering if he’d guessed wrong, going for plans that elaborate. “So, uh—sound good?” he asked, watching me closely.

Our gazes locked and… fuck, those eyes. I was a goner, no question. I mustered a big smile for him. “Sound great, bro,” I said, and he returned the smile with interest, almost literally, like his beautiful smile was half-again as intense as mine. Then he was out of the shower and closing the door behind him. I heard him whistling as he toweled himself off, an indistinct masculine shape through the shower door glass; and he was still at it when he left the bathroom and headed out into the apartment, closing the billowing steam in with me in the suddenly quiet and empty space.

In a lightning move I snatched up the soap, lathered up my hand, and ditched it fast into its dish before I grasped my dick hard, leaning against the tile with the other hand and staring through the shower door after my departed bro. One stroke, two, and then I was spraying jets of hot cum all over the translucent glass, my thick, heated loads making audible splats as I came over and over again. I stood there for a while, panting and flushed with climax, heart hammering and cock still rigid in my hand, and tried not to wonder if this was the worst guy-predicament I’d ever been in, or the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me.

I sat in the middle of the auditorium with five hundred of my fellow freshmen—the first seating of four blocs of first-years that day—and tried to let their collective exuberance wash over me and numb my fevered brain. I was surrounded by an entire village of young men and women, each of them filled to saturation with the excitement, mystery, dread, and apathy of high-school escapees broaching a whole new four-years-wide world of their own making. Their murmurations and connections multiplied around me even as older students and meme-talking deans roamed to the stage trying to steer us all clear of the perils of alcohol, bullying, heteronormatism, and gods knew what else. The students’ collective energy raised the room and made a collective whole out of all of us, a huge, multivariate linkage like a sea of shape-shifting goo-people—and yet I felt weirdly alone in my cushy fold-down seat, isolated among my people, because all I could think about was fucking Kellen.

What stunned me the most about my perverse abstraction from my actual peers burbling and gossipping and auto-connecting all around me was that I wasn’t even just obsessing on the physical stuff with Kell. Oh, sure, I was hard as rock as I sat there, uncomfortably so given the way my rigid erections did not like to bend under the restructions of underwear and jeans. My stupid infatuated id was replaying every great moment of our physical interactions in sensurround and amped up to eleven on this intense, crazy-making infinite loop: the very look of him at the front door, all muscled up, tanned, and shirtless and smiling all handsome and guileless at me, just before he’d squeezed me in that hot, enveloping welcoming hug… the arm around the shoulder as he guided me to the sofa… the unexpected rub of my belly and the enforced invitation to stroke his own firm, tight, wonderful abs… the cuddling in bed leading to an actual goddamned wet dream that had me shooting all over myself while he stayed curled up against me… the caged wake-up with his dickhead dragging along my drawn-up nuts… the shower where he’d soaped me up and we’d shaved each other, and, oh yeah where he’d offered to “help me out”… and, holy shit, that sweet, super-hot kiss on the cheek before he’d gone to fix our (naked, by the way) breakfast that had been the last straw before I came crazy hard all over the shower door after two short strokes of my long, aching, hair-trigger cock. I’d had all that running through my head and around my balls and sizzling up and down my shaft without let or surcease every minute all day. But that wasn’t even the end of it. Because it wasn’t even all just about the touch.

After our casual-nude breakfast (the blueberry pancakes were once again pretty good, though I still gave him guff for carbing us up, which of course he laughed off), we’d gotten dressed and headed out. Yes, shirts included! It was a little cool that day, actually, and so Kellen pulled on this body-hugging maroon-red long-sleeve V-neck that was almost as hot as no shirt at all on him and, on top of showing off his new builtness, really popped his already arresting coppery eyes. Down below was just as bad—he had on these worn, tight low-rise jeans that were faded almost to this creamy sky blue. They were so crazy-making because not only did they shape his track-honed runner’s legs to perfection, they also seemed to grab his hard, round ass exactly the way I wanted to. He capped all this off with his dark brown work boots and showed off the whole ensemble to me while I was still dressing, knowing he looked good. The truth was he looked like a damn model, and I was hard pressed to let him out of the house and let other people even look at him. Me, on the other hand? Well, I, of course, was so much of a geek doofus I decided to wear the heather-gray State U. thin hoodie I’d ordered online a few weeks back (like the school needed to have its brand reinforced by us newbie freshmen), plus my favorite loose-fit midnight-blue jeans and my almost worn-out old-fashioned navy canvas sneaks. I also snatched up my battered dark green messenger bag that I’d used all through high school from the floor of my so-far unused bedroom and slung it over my shoulder, knowing I’d be getting thick packets of campus and registration info at the orientation sessions to go with the piles of stuff I’d already gotten in the mail.

Kellen was as good as his word and gave me his own very subjective guided tour of the campus. I’d scoped the place before back when I’d first applied, but it was fun seeing it from Kellen’s veteran perspective as an experienced and worldly sophomore. And yes, he did start out walking us around with his arm over my shoulder like it belonged there, which I was very quick to see was literally nothing worth noticing on a big, diverse campus like this—though we did catch the friendly attention of a few gay couples passing through the crowds, not that Kell picked up on how folks saw us one way or the other. But Kell was too excited by the idea of showing me around to stay in one configuration with me. He’d run ahead and then turn to gesture at a particular giant oak tree with lots of wild stories attached to it, or double back because he’d missed something he wanted to show me around back of Kittsinger Chapel. His eagerness and ready smile brought the place alive, a place of vibrant greens and living stone, and after weeks of anxiety I started looking forward to carving out a life here. For that I was grateful and infinitely affectionate toward him. I didn’t know how much I could count on Kell always acting like this, or looking at me the way he was looking at me now, and I knew for a certainty I couldn’t expect him to feel toward me anything like what I was feeling toward him. He was just happy to be around me, and me—well, for me it was getting complicated. But in that moment, it was all okay. I was starting to accept what was happening between us, and that helped me really see the nature of the connection he and I had begun to forge.

For one thing, it was definitely somewhere in the middle of this high-energy peregrination, somewhere between Kell showing me his favorite stations in the sprawling school gym and him bounding across the wide grassy space between the library and the admin building, towing me by hand and promising to get us out here with frisbees and “study picnics” while amused knots of students and family clusters watched us gamboling on the green from the sidewalks, that something I hadn’t properly understood before with all my lower-wattage touch-me guys slowly crept up on me: the truth that touch was only part of it. Whatever my gift did, it lowered all kinds of boundaries between me and the guy I was into; and in Kellen’s case, “lowered” became “eradicated”.

With the boundaries gone, I saw in retrospect that all of my touch-me guys had started interacting with me more closely, more intimately, on every level; I’d just been too dense to pick up on it. I grasped it now with Kellen only because with him it was happening in spades. Every touch between us was easy and uncomplicated, but it didn’t stop there. It was every look, too. From those bright, happy, coppery eyes, each glance was like a touch—like a caress, even, sliding up my chest or teasing my overstimulated balls. Every word he spoke thrummed through me. His voice alone was like a brush of his warm, full lips along my fevered neck, sending thrills and shivers through me at the most innocuous of utterances. And then there was his intoxicating scent. Even that he seemed to share deliberately with me as something that was effortless and uncomplicated and part of what we did with each other, whether it was up close and personal in our bed—no, shit, it was his bed. His bed!—or out here in the clean air, walking close with his arm around me and his scent close and familiar.

And it was all a hundred percent mutual. He took in my touches, my rapturous stares, my words, and my scent as something that was basic and natural, the best and simplest part of an otherwise demanding and complicated human reality. He drew me into him with his looks and hands and closeness. It wasn’t just about his boundaries being exploded: it was that there were absolutely no boundaries between us, and the mere fact of that pure and effortless connection between us made the world better and more relaxed for him—and, when I wasn’t worrying myself crazy over all of this, for me as well.

All of this was clear to me now, as I sat there in that auditorium surrounded by my giddy freshman nation, half-listening to a kinda cute dark-skinned smart-looking South Asian hunk talking passionately about intramurals as I pondered this wholly unanticipated and unlooked-for dimension of my new university life. And, I realized with what felt like a tightening of my hard-pounding heart, there was a flip side, too: when he wasn’t there, I missed the fuck out of him. His absence of touch was just as potent to me as the presence of it, as I now suspected mine was for him. I needed his reassuring proximity as much as I thirsted for his touch and his scent and the glint of his eyes locked with mine and the sound of his sexy voice. And I was pretty sure the reverse was true for him as well. One day in, and I had drowned us so deep there was no sign of anything but us.

This is some serious shit, I told my raging, agonized dick, trapped as it had been for a few hours now behind unforgiving denim. As usual it wasn’t interested in anything I wanted to tell it. It was still watching that loop of Kellen-moments, and really, who could blame it? I might just close my eyes and revel in it for a while myself.

My phone buzzed with a text and I checked it. I smiled automatically as I saw it was from my roomie-bro, ignoring (as much as I could) the way my long flat cock jumped in my jeans and my balls seemed to swell, all just at the sight of his name.

Kellen: You surviving? ;)

I texted back that we were doing trust falls and that a pair of twins from South Dakota had dropped me twice.

Kellen: lol knew I shoulda come with. Chicken burgers after? Awesome place just off campus!

I grinned at my phone like a dope.

Me: Sure. Meet me at the auditorium south exit.

He responded back almost instantly.

Kellen: I’ll be there bro.

I stared at those words for a long time, until I slapped my brain around enough to recognize that, no, idiot, they weren’t a lifelong commitment. It was an offer of fucking chicken burgers. I tucked the phone away and yelled at myself in a mix of bemusement and alarm. De-escalate or you’ll lose it, I remonstrated myself sternly. Back down from defcon 3, dude! It’s just the touch-me thing. Nothing new about that. You like it, Kell likes it, no biggie. He’s a jockbro, he’s hungry like always, it’s not a date.

Fuck, was it a date? I thought, pulse suddenly accelerating. No, dickwad. Not. A. Date. Burgers with roomie-bro at an off-campus hangout. No biggie, got it?

Guyzer gonna love you.”

The half-heard words Kell had murmured sleepily into my shoulder the night before surfaced abruptly in my brain like a shark attack. I gulped as the implications dawned on me. Kellen had “guys”—of course he did. And where did you meet up with your guys? Well, lots of places. The gym, the pub, the frisbee lawn… the off-campus burger hang-out joint…

I was doomed. Completely and utterly doomed.

As I sat there, wondering hectically if there was any way I could convince my big stubborn erection to go away of its own accord some time in the next half hour, I randomly tuned in as the young but silver-haired dean of students, who was emceeing the orientation, was saying something about resources for peer tutoring and shared intensive study groups that ended with, “Folks, college is what you make it. You have the tools and the ability and the opportunity to shape it however you need it to be.” As I refocused on the speaker, he adjusted his glasses and looked out at us with obvious warmth and goodwill. “It’s all in your hands,” he concluded. “Go for it. Take the resources college life provides for you and get started building your own future.”

I bit my lip, wondering with a mix of a hundred different emotions just what kind of world I was already building for both of us.

Part 3

Almost the moment I stepped past of the auditorium’s outer doors into the plaza Kellen was upon me. I was instantly snatched up in a tight hug, forcing the heavy stream of freshmen filing out of the orientation with me to break into two rivulets around us until the flow petered out and there were only a few chatting families left in the area. I didn’t truly care much about what was going on around me in that moment. Kellen’s hands had slid right up under my messenger bag and were rubbing slowly and casually along my long back as he molded himself firmly against me from his shins to his groin to his warm, smooth cheek. He was also evidently ignoring, or not caring about, the raging boner I was ramming into him through our jeans, so I just let it lay there, angry and throbbing between us. Not possessing the willpower to refrain I returned an embrace just as fierce as his, taking in as I did so every scrap of sensation I could despite how every kind of pleasure he was giving me fed straight into my ravenous cock and balls. His warmth wrapped around me as forcibly as his body, and I drew in a long breath to let his subtle scent fill my lungs. The shirts we were wearing were both fairly thin, so it was easy to enjoy the feel of his firm pecs against mine and how fantastic his gently flaring lats felt along my biceps as we squeezed each other. I greedily caressed his upper back with my hands like it was my very own, and he hummed happily in my ear. It all felt so good that I was seriously tempted to rut my hard dick against his fit, firm body as I held him close to me. I was in heaven and hell all at the same time, and I honestly didn’t know whether I wanted it to end before I exploded or whether this embrace needed to endure until the end of fucking time.

After a few moments of this he kissed my cheek again, like that was something you did, and I did the same, determined now to get away with every damn thing I could. Then he pulled back, but kept me snug in his arms, so that our faces were only a few inches apart. This close he had to look up slightly to meet my gaze. Through they made me drunk with lust I kept my eyes firmly locked with his, because otherwise, with our faces this close, I was going to start staring at his full, dark-red lips.

How long until we kiss on the mouth, like it’s no big deal?

The thought struck without warning, causing me to shiver with lust. I was instantly thrilled and fascinated by the idea. In the past, the touch-me thing had been about all hands and brushing shoulders and legs pressed together under the table and a general, intimate closeness. But it it never gotten anywhere near this level, and I was starting to think that maybe with the kind of cravings I was experiencing for Kellen and his perfect response to my gift there was nothing that couldn’t happen between us.

“How’d it go?” he asked, his easy smile going straight to my dick along with everything else.

“Fine,” I said, shrugging slightly. “No casualties.”

Kell’s eyes glinted. “Want me to go all big brother on those twins you mentioned?” he offered teasingly.

“Nah,” I said airily. “I let ‘em make it up to me by sucking me off in the bathroom.”

“Lucky you,” he said. “Feels like they didn’t quite finish the job, though,” he added, and to my amazement he bucked his own crotch against mine, revealing to me that he was just as hard as I was!

I drew in a sharp breath and tried to keep my brain from spinning. My hands moved up and down Kell’s tight back, stroking him, and he, consciously or not, did the same. “I, uh, guess I’m not the only one of us who’s crazy horny today,” I said.

He grinned wickedly. “We’d better carve out some time for us to do something about that later,” he said cheerily. “C’mon, Felker’s is this way.” He shifted our hug into the one-arm variety and started moving us rapidly in the direction of the main road on the east edge of campus.

It was only four o’clock or so but I hadn’t really eaten since breakfast, unless you counted the hefty banana I’d bought and quickly downed at the random-milling-about meet-your-faculty gathering in the north quad before the orientation session. So by the time we arrived at Felker’s Food & Brew a busy block away from campus (and, I realized, not too far from our digs just south of the school) I was feeling kinda famished, which meant Kellen was probably ready to start eating the tables. We weren’t the only ones with this idea, and ended up as part of a steady trickle of kids and parents striking out from the university in search of post-orientation sustenance. Fortunately, Felker’s was practically as big as a bowling alley and could accommodate the crowds its popularity had garnered it, and the owners had divided up the space interestingly so there were several biggish dining rooms around a central kitchen rather than one big noisy space.

Kellen passed through a couple of the dining rooms without even looking around. He was evidently making a beeline for his usual haunts, and I followed him closely. The aisles between the tables and booths were wide enough but not so big we could walk two abreast in our hug-walk configuration, so Kell had my hand in his and was towing me through the boisterous crowds like his neophyte bro might get lost in the big college world without him. I let it happen. Like I said, I was now determined to get away with any and all contact I possibly could. His strong grip felt damn good, and as a bonus I was in an excellent position to admire his sweetly tapered back in that body-hugging shirt, not to mention his killer ass.

Then we were in a largish teal-tinged room a little quieter than the others, and soon we were standing in front of a six-man booth already occupied by three good-looking guys and a friendly-looking strawberry blonde. They all greeted Kell enthusiastically. I noticed they had menus in front of them and had already garnered a pitcher of what looked like cola, so they weren’t too far ahead of us. The four of them scooted a bit around the U to make room for the two of us on the left, and Kell ushered me in ahead of him. “Guys, this is Kev,” he said as I clambered in, Kell following close behind. “Kev, this is the guys.” He then introduced them in turn, with me silently hoping I’d remember which names went with which faces sixty seconds from now. My track record on that score was not promising.

One of them, at least, was easy because I recognized him from the orientation: Arjun, the guy I was sitting next to in the cozy booth, turned out to be the cute South Asian hunk who’d talked so passionately about intramurals to us. “Hey, I know you,” I said, as Kell settled next to me, his arm back around my shoulder like that was where it belonged. I narrowed my eyes at him. “So which are you? Lacrosse or volleyball?” I asked, naming the two sports he’d enthused about the most in his talk.

He smiled at me, glad to be recognized, or maybe glad to have proof that any of the murmuring, phone-welded freshmen had been listening to him at all. He didn’t even bat an eye at his friend’s arm draped around me, despite the fact that as far as I knew Kell was straight and hadn’t exhibited any of this kind of behavior to his buds before. “Both, actually,” he said. “But lacrosse is our hottest sport right now. And Kells, here, is actually our top scorer from last season,” he added, nodding at my bro.

I turned to him in surprise. I’d picked up that he’d left competitive track behind to concentrate on his very demanding engineering program, but beyond that I’d resolutely ignored all of Kell’s news from school last year. Partly that was because back then I’d still thought of him as the smelly jerk jock bro who’d basically lived in a completely different world from me even when we shared the same house, and partly because senior year I’d been going slightly emo obsessing on my own grades and getting into college, plus there’d been a couple of touch-me rounds with guys I was actually into rather than just turned on by. Lots of butthurt that year.

Kell just favored us with a cocky smile. “It’s true,” he said. “I score a lot.”

I rolled my eyes and turned firmly away from him, and Arjun groaned. “Not with anyone I know,” chipped in Denise, the strawberry blonde girl who turned out to be George’s boyfriend, George being the very fit-looking guy next to her who looked like he’d stepped right out of a top ten World Cup hotties listicle. He was handsome as fuck, with a very pleasant-to-look-at high-cheekboned face, dark blue eyes, and medium-length chestnut hair that seemed to go exactly where he wanted it to. Plus every ounce of him seemed engineered to produce speed, agility, and power on the soccer pitch, despite the wire-frame glasses that only added an edge of nerd-cuteness to his appeal. I wondered what he was like in bed. Denise was probably pretty lucky, if he put the same energy into sex that he did into making goals on the field. Next to George at the other end of the U-shaped booth was a broad, sepia-skinned gym rat in head to toe UnderArmour. He was named Brodie and he seemed to be eyeing me intensely, though honestly he seemed like a pretty intense guy in general. Maybe he was just hungry, I thought. Hopefully not for me.

Arjun and the others picked up their menus, and I followed suit. Kell didn’t, probably already set on whatever he usually got here. “So, Arjun,” I said as I perused the offerings, “any werewolves on the lacrosse team?”

George barked out a laugh, and Kell snorted. “Do not get me started on that show,” Arjun said without looking up. “We used to have fangirls showing up to the games just to see if lacrosse really was all about super-hot guys tackling and sniffing each other all the time.”

“Well, they were right about the super-hot part,” Denise observed with a smirk, paging through the jaunty, picture-heavy menu. It was then explained to me that Kell’s “guys” actually all knew each other from the intramural lacrosse teams. Even George, who actually did play college-level soccer for the university (yes! pegged it), liked to cool down with lacrosse once or twice a week where the stakes were lower and he could just use his physical prowess for fun.

The waiter, a fellow college dude of the utterly nondescript variety, came and took our orders. Not sure of the menu yet and a little distracted by all the double-plus male company I decided to copy Arjun’s order this time around, a dijon chicken deluxe sandwich with cajun curly fries, since the gods knew I couldn’t manage as much food as Kell had ordered. Pretty soon I’d be a seasoned regular here with a usual just like Kellen, but especially coming from orientation, and with all these new faces around me, I was still feeling very much the campus tenderfoot.

“Anyway,” Kell said once the waiter had left, “if any of us was going to be a werewolf it’d definitely be Brodie.”

“It’s true,” Arjun laughed. “He’s hairy enough already, that’s for sure. And he bites!”

Brodie just grinned ferally, seemingly right at me. I stared at him with wide eyes and then quickly poured myself a glass of soda from the pitcher.

Overall it turned out to be a great meal. My fears were proved groundless as the “guys” did seem to love me, Denise included, and accepted me completely as Kell’s buddy and, I guess, guy-he-wraps-his-arm around. And sure, my cock was painfully hard and pleading with me for a moment alone the whole time we ate and chatted, what with Kell sitting close to me on one side while stroking my shoulder or caressing the back of my hair or the nape underneath, and Arjun cuddling comfortably against me on the other side, overlapping shoulders with me and pressing our legs together like that was the usual way you sat next to guys at the chick-burger hangout, but that was okay.

It kind of dawned on me as the meal progressed that Arjun was picking up his own dose of touch-me mojo. Either he’d got it from my very much appreciating how nicely developed and casually muscled he was in a way that seemed completely natural, like his body was just made to be fit and bulge in all the right places; or else my thing with Kell was so tenfold potent that hot guys around us were being splashed with the overflow. I was ready to run with it either way. Arjun felt almost as good pressed up against me as Kellen, though most of my body’s attention was definitely fixated on my delicious, intoxicating roomie-bro.

Evidence for the second interpretation surfaced when Arjun ended up walking back with us back toward our apartment, his own off-campus flat being a few blocks further in the same direction. Standing in front of our building, Arjun smiled at me like we were old pals and went straight in for a tight, snuggly, full body hug. I was a little shocked to discover that he was unmistakably hard in his extra-dark khakis, almost like popping a big, fat boner was no big thing for him in the same way that being distractingly cute, godly proportioned, and naturally hulkalicious was no big thing. I kind of gaped at him—then positively goggled as he did exactly the same thing with Kellen. They did the back-slap thing at first before descending into using their hands to stroke each other’s upper backs as they pressed comfortably together. This was definitely not one of those A-frame bro-hugs.

They smiled warmly at each other as they separated, and I just stared at them. Okay, this was clearly spill-over, I thought. That had to be the explanation for Arjun’s touch-me mojo effect to include Kellen as well as me. Nothing else made sense, even as it occurred to me, for the first time ever, that maybe I didn’t know as much about how my gift worked as I thought I did.

Hugs over, I expected Arjun to head off, leaving Kell and me alone to… what? Escalate? Was that even a good idea? But Arjun lingered, his expression slightly awkward as he scuffed the toe of his shoe adorably on the sidewalk, giving me occasion to notice, and file away, the fact that his feet seemed to be appreciably above average in size. I wondered if that came into play in a game like lacrosse, one way or another.

“So, actually—” he began hesitantly.

Kellen seemed to immediately understand. “Eric?” Kellen asked shrewdly. When Arjun rolled his eyes and shook his head dejectedly, Kell laughed and slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Want to hang out a while longer? You can even stay over if you want. We’ve got an extra bedroom,” he added with a wink at me that I swear heated my blood by like five degrees.

Arjun smiled gratefully. “Thanks,” he said. We were already moving toward the porch steps when Arjun turned to me. “My roommate,” he explained. “He’s a good guy, honest, but he smokes so much pot. I swear I’ve met Dolphin Elvis like five times just from living in the same space with him.” I laughed.

We got inside and the two jocks started heading up the stairs with me following close behind. “House rules, though,” Kellen was saying. “No shirts.”

Arjun huffed. “I think I can handle that.”

I trailed behind them in a little daze, not even sure which magnificent round ass to stare at. Yeah, I thought, but can I?

It turned out that Kell had a game system hooked up to the flatscreen that I hadn’t noticed the night before, and after the obligatory Doffing of the Shirts—during which I nearly went cross-eyed stealing glances at Kell’s hard, compact, gym-crafted physique to one side and Arjun’s loose, meaty, but perfectly proportioned musclehunkness to the other—he pulled three controllers out of a little drawer under the console and we settled in to have some fun massacring heartless evildoers for a while. The game he loaded up was called Blood Debt (for reasons were never very clear) and was a real mishmash. It involved Civil War soldiers who’ve fallen through this weird set of misplaced portals and are subsequently being equipped with a wide array of blockbusting megaguns by the pacifist god-eagles of Pantask-Beta-Five so they can fight off endless waves of invading armies made up of troll-like orcs, giant scorpions (some of whom were friendly), and poisonous shapeshifting zombies on the god eagles’ behalf. I wish I could say I whupped their asses, but Kell and Arjun clearly had prior experience with this game, which, if you can’t tell, was seriously bizarre in concept and execution. Plus Kell’s the kind of player who’ll playfully shoulder you really hard just when you’re trying to shoot down the zombie-dragonfly-riding troll-orc that’s bearing right down on your position, so that instead of taking out the enemy you end up covered in toxic zombie dragonfly blood while he cackles sadistically next to you. Nice sportsmanship there, bro.

Arjun gave me a sympathetic pat-and-rub on the shoulder, and I had the impression his hand would’ve stayed there had he not needed both hands for the controller. It was just as well it didn’t, as my dick had only gotten harder and more in need of pretty extreme release while the three of us had sat there all close together and shirtless on the couch while exerting and/or exuding tons of testosterone in the manly pursuit of interspecies slaughter. It didn’t help that I was pretty damn sure Arjun and Kell were both as hard and ready as I was. I was going to blow pretty soon whether I liked it or not, but I kept putting off the moment, appalled by the idea of sneaking off to the bathroom in the middle of everything and filling the john with hot, high-pressure spunk.

Eventually karma caught up with Kell in the form of a particularly powerful scorpion-howitzer strike (they can launch their venom like bazookas, I forgot to mention that) that wiped out his life points and left him bleeding and dead on the field. I laughed vindictively at him as he groaned in dismay and fell back in the couch, completely shocked I’d outlasted him at this. He quickly recovered and, leaving me and Arjun to play out the round, he headed into the kitchen and started puttering around. Arjun and I were falling into this cool rhythmic camaraderie where we started mopping up the final wave of giant zombie toll-orcs together, grinning at each other as we went about our work, shoulders and knees still brushing together even though there was now plenty of room on the couch. He had his own smell, too, I was noticing as we fought our monsters together, cleaner than Kell’s and a little earthy. I liked it, and I liked being able to like it.

We were just trapping the last enemy battalion at the edge of a bottomless slime pit when we heard the sound of a blender coming from the kitchen. It was doing some serious grinding—whatever he was making, there had to be ice in there to be making that kind of racket.

Arjun and I exchanged glances. When the noise stopped I called out, “Whatcha doing, Abe?”

“You’ll see!” came the singsong answer.

I glanced back at Arjun, who looked confused. “Why do you call him ‘Abe’?” he asked. I explained about the pennies-in-the-eyes thing from when I was a kid, and he smiled, his dimples accentuating his cuteness and making my heart swell a little. “That’s interesting. I never really noticed his eyes before. I’ll have to take a closer look later. So,” he added slyly, “what kind of nickname would my eyes get me, do you think?”

I wasn’t about to blurt out “Sexy Fucker,” so I tried to come up with some kind of real answer. Our legs were pressing together and had been for a while, which had the effect of reducing my cognitive power by at least fifteen percent. Looking closer, though, I saw that his eyes, which had just looked dark brown before, were actually this really rich dark brown with a lot of red in them, and for some reason that made me think of the nuts I’d collected when I was kid, back when we were living in the midwest. “I dunno. Buckeye?” I said, frowning slightly.

He held my gaze, still smiling foxily at me. “‘Buck’ for short?” he asked. He sounded like he liked the idea of a nickname like that.

I licked my lips quickly. “Uh, sure,” I agreed. “Though Arjun’s pretty cool too.”

“Thanks,” he said, still not looking away. His smile was sweet and disarming. Fuck, was he coming on to me, or was it the touch-me effect? I honestly had no idea.

Just then Kellen bustled back into the room with three creamy-looking smoothies in tall, thick milkshake glasses. One was wedged under a forearm. “Hurry, Key, grab this one,” he said, bending to angle the arm with the trapped smoothie toward me. “Quick,” he urged. “It’s really cold.”

Ever the dutiful brother, I prized it free as instructed. “Damn, you’re right,” I said, leaning forward and setting the liberated glass on the coffee table while Kell handed Arjun one of the two remaining drinks. I saw him giving me a look and indicated my vivid green eyes with my free hand. “Short for kiwi,” I explained. Arjun nodded, giving me the ghost of a crooked grin—a reminder we had our own nickname secret now.

Kell glanced at the screen, which showed that the round of the game we’d been playing was complete. “You guys want to keep going?” he asked, dropping back into the couch and deftly keeping his full-to the brim smoothie upright as he relaxed into the cushions.

For an answer I grabbled the remote and switched over to his streaming services. As I flipped through programs I had a sudden thought and did a quick search to see if he had a particular series. And yep, he sure did. Or we did, I guess, since I lived here too now. I pulled it up and turned to Arjun with a wicked grin.

He groaned loudly. “Teen Wolf? Seriously?” he complained. On my other side, Kellen was laughing, though it might have been in disbelief.

“C’mon,” I said. “Do you actually hate it?”

Arjun drew in a long, beleaguered breath. “I’ve never actually seen it,” he confessed with a sigh, like someone who knew that such an admission definitively doomed him to sitting through at least the first episode.

“Oh, well then,” I said, confirming his suspicions and maliciously pressing play and tossing the remote onto the table as the episode started up. Mimicking Kell, if not so confidently, I grabbed my smoothie and eased carefully back into the deep cushions of the sofa , and Arjun did likewise. “I bet you two’ll get lots of pointers,” I told them as if I were totally serious. Did people watch Teen Wolf for the lacrosse? Maybe. Probably not actual lacrosse players though.

“No doubt,” Kellen said with a chuckle. “I’m so sure the sporty parts are very meticulously researched.”

“Absolutely,” Arjun agreed sarcastically. Then, as the first scene showed Scott restringing his stick, he added, “There, see? I totally did not know how to do up my scoop like that before watching this. This show’s obviously going to be a true education.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, nudging his bare torso with my elbow. He settled in closer to me and snickered, all our eyes on the titular soon-to-be wolf. The truth was I’d had a bit of a thing for the lead character back in the day, but I’d quickly realized I liked ‘em bigger and brawnier than Tyler Posey. In fact, the way I liked ‘em was pretty much exactly the pleasantly muscled, tight-abbed, slightly hairy, model-handsome jock-masculine dreamboats that were currently cuddling close to me from both directions as we lay back against the cushions. I was feeling like I pretty much had it made right then. Granted it was a little tough to drink my smoothie at this angle, but did I care? Arjun and Kell were both overlapping their bare, bulging shoulders with mine. Our upper arms were all pressed beautifully together. My legs were practically welded to Arjun’s on one side and Kell’s on the other. If I could only figure out a way to release the almost stratospheric tension in my dick snd balls, I might not get up from this couch ever.

Very carefully, I tilted my extremely full smoothie glass back while craning my lips forward toward it like I was doing some kind of strange facial gymnastics. It all would have worked, too, if the show hadn’t chosen that moment to have a sudden jump-scare fake-out that completely snookered Kellen, totally making him jostle my elbow and spilling half the fucking smoothie all over my bare torso.

“Aaaaaauuughghgh!! Cold cold cold cold cold!” I screeched. The two of them stared at me wide-eyed, first at my face and then at my afflicted torso. Then, in one single motion, they both thunked their own glasses on the coffee table, bent down at the same time, and started sucking the freezing glop right off my chest and abs.

I gawked at them as they kept at it, hoovering up every bit of the frozen drink until there was nothing left. My body tingled crazily all over at the feel of their lips and mouths and the pull of oral suction against my touch-hungry skin. As soon as they were done the two of them turned toward each other in sudden comic alarm. “Now ow mowz are cole!” Kellen said around a mouth way too full of freezing-cold smoothie. And then on a sudden impulse, laughing, they dove at each other and started making out—to warm up their mouths!

After a few seconds they broke free, and Arjun was laughing and shaking his head. “Bof ouw mowz are cole,” he said, still around too much brain-freezing smoothie and obviously very amused. They stared at each other for one second, mouths hanging open ridiculously… then, in unison, they both turned to me.

All the circuit breakers in my brain tripped at once, which was good, because thinking was totally not what I needed right now. I bent forward instantly and smashed my mouth against Kellen’s. His lips were already parted, of course, and, purely in the interests of warming his frozen mouth up, I drove my tongue in deep to meet its slushie-beset counterpart. Our long tongues twisted as we made out vigorously, the heat from my mouth rapidly relieving Kell’s predicament as the frozen glop diffused between our mouths and melted to its constituent parts of yogurt, fruit, and now-melted water.

“Huwwy up!” Arjun goaded around a laugh. I quickly switched mouths and went at it with Arjun, performing the same tongue and mouth rescue for him. The first shred of through the return to my brain as my heat warmed Arjun’s tongue and lips was that Arjun was almost as good a kisser as Kellen. The second was that I’d been unconsciously counting down to kissing on the mouth since after the orientation session, and even now, as it was happening for real, I couldn’t wait for it to happen again. I am one greedy fuck.

When I broke free I turned to Kell to see what his reaction was. What I saw was not what I expected at all: Kell was fumbling frantically at the fly of his jeans. “Dudes, sorry, I gotta cream,” he said, yanking open his fly and hauling out his thick, very hard dick. It was red with extreme arousal and the head was smeared to a huge amount of precum. “I gotta cream right now,” he insisted, falling back on the couch with his dick in his fist.

I swiveled to Arjun to see how he would react to that, but Arjun was grinning toothily as he grabbed at the zipper of his dark khakis. “Me too!” he said, freeing his own dick—way thicker than Kell’s and longer than mine, and very uncut—and palming it in his left hand as he, too, fell back on the couch.

Obviously I didn’t stand a chance of resisting. “When in Rome!” I said, freeing my long, flat tool from its confines at last. The purple monster sprung up ludicrously stiff at that indomitable forty-five degree angle, its one eye glaring furiously at me and begging me with all its might for an orgasm, now, please. I dropped back against the cushions and, burrowing under Kell’s and Arjun’s brawny shoulders, my legs mashed hard against the guys on either side of me, I gave in and favored my finally exposed towering dick with one hard pump.

That was enough. In two seconds I was crying out in wondrous relief as my climax burst euphorically through me, my howls almost in harmony with those of my couchmates who were releasing at neatly exactly the same moment. Jets of hot jizz spattered like hail against my abs and chest, shot after demented, mind-blowing shot, and knowing that Kellen and Arjun were doing the same on either side of me made it that much more dizzyingly awesome. I was panting loud and my spunk-dappled chest was heaving as the cumming tailed off, sweat breaking out on my brow, and it was so amazingly, erotically awesome that the same was true for the hotter, hunkier guys snuggling with me in this huge, super-cozy couch. Nothing but basic ideas could surface in my blissed out head, all stunning, all world-transforming. Three big, rampant, steel-hard hard cocks spitting spunk. Three cum machines rocketing through orgasm. Me, us, male, ecstasy.

We lay there basking for ages, our still mostly hard dicks poking right up out of our flies like they didn’t deserve to ever be hidden away and wouldn’t go quietly when the time came. They stood defiant, drooling smeared, stray jizz on our waistbands. Everything else—TV, smoothies, the entire fucking world—was completely and blissfully forgotten. At last Arjun tilted up on his elbows and took in our seed-drenched torsos with his characteristic big, wryly amused smile. “At least that explains the no-shirts rule,” he said, eyes alight as he looked us over. “What a mess.” I almost expected him to suggest lapping all of it up the way they had with the smoothies, but no—not even my strange gift could make these expanses of cooling spunk even remotely palatable. Instead he met our gazes and, in a way that suggested that bro-play never needed to end, he lifted his thick eyebrows at us and said, “Shower?”

I turned to look at Kellen. I drew in a long, satisfied breath at my jock-hunk brother’s flushed, post-orgasmic beauty. I knew I wanted time alone with him—a lot of languorous, unhurried time—but considering he was my roomie-bro I also knew I didn’t have to worry about getting the chance. Kellen, meanwhile, seemed to be planning something. If I was reading those brazen coppery eyes aright, he was already thinking past whether we’d fit in his shower to whether we’d all fit in his bed. I was starting to think he was as touch-hungry as I was, if that was possible. Maybe I’d made him that way. I wondered, but at the moment I didn’t much care. Well, I thought, the mattress in what was supposed to have been my room was still completely naked… and who knew where the sheets were.

Kellen and I grinned and turned back to Arjun. “Shower,” we answered together.

Description Kevin goes to college where his gift for making guys he likes willing to casually touch him seems to intensify just as he’s moving in with his hunky older brother.

AddedMarch 2019
Updated11 May 2019



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