Off Campus (15 page)

Reese stood at his side and kissed him again, harder this time, sucking Tom's lower lip between his own, but the angle was awkward and after a moment, he moved, coming around to the front of the chair and pressing his knees in between Tom's.

Tom spread his legs and let Reese move in closer, keeping his own hands on his thighs. He'd wait until some kind of clear signal. A loud “Put your hands on my ass, please” would be nice, before he reached for him. In the meantime, simply getting kissed by Reese was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. The scrape of his jaw, Reese's barely there stubble from days of not shaving, was different from a girl's. The strength of his hands on Tom's arms, his grip harder than a girl's, his grasp wider. Reese might be slimmer and smaller than him, but there was no doubt that this was a man standing between his legs, opening his mouth with a wet tongue and the sucking pressure of his lips. A man whose hands slid up the short sleeves of his T-shirt and whose fingernails dug into the muscle of his shoulders.

A man. His.

Reese.

He opened his mouth and let it pour out of him, the want, the desire, let his mouth open to the soft needy noises he'd wanted to pull out of Reese and felt the grin against his face when Reese heard him give in.

The vulnerability rocked him, made him hesitate for a moment and think about pulling back. What if Reese laughed at him? Jesus, he could hardly believe he'd gotten this far, kissing this guy standing between his legs behind the locked door of their dorm room. If Reese found this entertaining, enjoyed manipulating him the same way he played all of those guys he'd dragged into his bed since the start of the school year, Tom didn't think he could stand it.

“You're not touching me.”

So wrapped up in the swirling uncertainty of his own thoughts, it took Tom a moment to figure out that the words weren't his own, but rather Reese talking to him.

“What?”

“You're not touching me,” his roommate repeated, lifting his head and looking down at him, two little wrinkles between his dark eyebrows, bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

Tom's hands gripped his own thighs, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what anymore.

“I don't… What's okay? To touch?” He felt stupid asking.

“What?”

“What's okay to touch? You don't let them, do you? Touch you, I mean. Those other guys.”

A shadow slid over Reese's face for a moment. Tom could see the moment when he willed the bad thoughts away.

“This is different.”

“Why? Because I don't know what I'm doing?” he asked, feeling dumber than a pile of bricks.

Feeling stupid was apparently the right move with Reese, because he grinned and straddled Tom's lap, dropping his weight hard against Tom's thighs, where he'd barely pulled his hands clear in time. He left them hovering in the air over Reese's hips, still unsure.

Reese looped his arms around Tom's neck and rocked his hips a little.

“Because this is different. So, anything. You can touch anything.” He waited, sitting on Tom's lap and looking at his face, open. Trusting. Tom put one hand on his hip and slipped it up to skate under the edge of his shirt, fingertips brushing the bare skin of Reese's waist. A single, concentrated touch that he felt in his own hand and in the narrowed heat of Reese's gaze. He laid his other hand flat on Reese's chest and felt the bump of a hard nipple under cotton against the edge of his hand. Reese's chest rose and fell beneath his palm. “Um, don't hold me down, okay? Or move me. You know, push my body around.”

“No. I won't.” He slid the hand under the T-shirt up higher, skimming across the flat plane and gentle ridges of Reese's stomach before pushing up, taking the shirt with him, grabbing the hem and lifting it with both hands, until Reese raised his arms and let Tom slide the shirt up and off him. The limp cotton fluttered to the floor. He brought his hands back to Reese's chest, roaming now with permission.

“But touching, ah God, yes, touching is fine. Better than fine. Fuck.” He hissed as Tom found his nipples and pinched. “Yes, do that as much as you want.” He dropped a hand to his own crotch and grabbed his dick, squeezing it hard, hips bucking against Tom's lap.

Tom pushed his hand away and slid his own palm along the hard length of him. Reese's arms were around his neck, fingers curved around the back of his skull, Reese's mouth attacking his own as they sucked and kissed and pushed against each other, stopping to wrestle Tom's shirt off. The sigh that escaped him when they were skin to skin, getting sweaty with the flush of pleasure, was a moment's pause, their skin sticking together as Reese wrapped his arms around him and ground hard into Tom's cock, panting with need.

He was awake, more awake than he'd been in ages, and this wasn't a dream, wasn't a late night fantasy in the shower. The hand on his jeans, unbuttoning and pulling on the zipper, wasn't his own. But he closed his eyes and let it be like it was in his imagination, for a moment, when Reese reached into his pants and wrapped fingers around his penis.

Fuck.

He let his head fall forward, his forehead pressing against Reese's as he sat there and let the waves of heat and lust rush over him. Trying not to move, not to do anything that might make this stop.

Then he opened his eyes.

He was staring down at his own lap, at the diamond of Reese's crotch spread wide over and against his own, and the sight of those narrow white hands, fingers wrapped around his dick, pulling and stroking, damn near brought him to the point of coming in his pants in one hot instant.

“Oh God,” he rushed out, pushing a hand down between them to stop everything. “Wait.”

“Wait?” Reese's fingers kept moving under his. He could feel them on the skin of his dick, micro movements that set off bursts of pleasure that shot through him like fireworks. His pelvis rocked forward, trying to pull away, but only succeeding in crushing his balls further beneath him. “Why?”

“Because,” he managed to grunt out while twisting his hands to attack Reese's studded leather belt and the zipper that fought his efforts to wrestle it down. He looked up. So close, their faces were, that he could hardly focus on Reese's eyes. “I don't want it to be just me again.”

He reached into Reese's underwear and pulled him out, the first time the dick in his hands wasn't his own, and it felt peculiar and ordinary at the same time. Like the wildest drug high he'd ever experienced, rushing through his veins and blowing the top of his head off at the same time as his brain said,
Ah ha, a dick, yes, rub it like that, no problem, we got this
, and shrugged it off as the most ordinary thing in the world.

The entire moment was so hot he was pretty sure it'd be less than two minutes before he shot on his own stomach. He tried to block out the sensation of Reese's hand on him, slipperier with the pre-come he'd gathered with his thumb and spread down the length of Tom's dick. He mimicked the movement, feeling a strange surge of pride when Reese groaned at the drag of his thumb across the slit.

I did that. I made him so hard and wet. Made him moan out loud for me. He doesn't let those other guys do this. He never lets them.

Those thoughts were heading down a road that led to trouble and him giving a shit about whether or not Reese was going to keep messing around with other guys, so it seemed like a good idea to cut that off. Tom focused on the dick in his hand and the tense thighs straddling his own and tried to make this good for Reese, this touching he was allowing when he never allowed the guys he brought home to do anything to him. So Tom held him in his hands and tried to show him that he knew how to take care, how to touch him with lust and passion and caution and awareness at the same time as he tried to do everything he could think of that made a guy's dick wanna go off like a rocket.

Reese dragged one of Tom's hands free from their laps and pulled it behind him, pressing the palm of Tom's hand to Reese's ass and holding it there. There wasn't enough brain power left in Tom's entire body to operate a mechanical pencil, but he could figure that one out. Without making any move to pull Reese closer to him or push him onto Tom's dick, he grabbed his butt cheek hard, squeezing and stripping a grunt out of Reese with his fingers pressing into the tight denim-covered crack of his ass. He wanted to slide his hand down the back of Reese's pants and palm the bare skin of his ass, slide his fingers deeper into his crack and press against his hole, but he didn't want to make any mistakes now. Not when Reese was rocking and rasping breaths and biting back moans as his dick hardened one last unbelievable bit before he threw his head back and gasped.

“Ahhh, God! Fuck. Fuck.”

The sight of Reese coming, one hand clenched on Tom's shoulder, the other still grasping his cock was enough to send him over the edge, stomach muscles tightening to the point of pain as he held himself in place, pleasure racing from his stomach to his ass to his balls, bursting in a sudden explosion of heat and pleasure that had him dropping his head back and locking all of his muscles as he came, trying not to thrust up and dump Reese off of his lap.

When the rushing in his ears, his pulse thundering, slowed to a rumble, he dropped his head forward and rested his forehead against Reese's sweaty shoulder.

“Shit.”

He felt it, the second Reese stiffened on his lap, his spine shooting straight, his shoulders pulling back as he scrambled off Tom, wiping his hands on his thighs because they were both still half-dressed in jeans.

“Let me guess.” His words were so bitter Tom bet they curdled in his mouth. “You didn't mean for it to go that far. You still want us to be
friends
.” Even his air quotes were sarcastic. “Well, fuck you,
roomie
.”

Tom shook his head and stayed on the chair, hands on his thighs, zipper open and his soft dick still hanging out of his pants.

“Pick a fight all you want, kid. Reese.” That wasn't how they were going to do this. “But you're doing it by yourself.”

“I heard you. You were still breathing hard when you started regretting this.”

“You hearing it doesn't mean I said it.” He might have been unsure of himself the whole way through this mess of sex and friendship and freaking public declarations to the rest of the freaking house, but he wasn't trying to bullshit his way out of it now. It was what it was. “I came after you, Reese. Came after you and brought you back here and I'm not the one standing halfway across the room.”

“So what, you're gay now?”

He sighed. “I'm not gay.” He held a hand up before Reese could get rolling again. “I'm just, equal opportunity, I guess. And it's not a new thing, okay? But it
has
been a long time. So if anyone's gonna freak out about this, maybe it could be me and not you, all right?” He tried a smile.

Reese wasn't ready to give up on fighting quite yet. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and shifted his weight to his heels.

“Are you freaking out?”

“I wasn't, but if it'll make you feel better, I can.” Reese turned his head, but not before Tom heard the breath huff out of him in a laugh he tried to cover up by stomping over to his closet for a towel. He lofted a second towel through the air to
thwap
against Tom's chest, a sound that immediately brought him back to the night he'd cleaned himself up under a sheet after watching Reese blow that last kid in the bed barely ten feet from his. One of the hottest experiences of his life, before last weekend's blowjob and tonight's mutual rub off. He felt his dick try to stir but knew that was a no-go even as he brushed the towel roughly over himself. He judged it safe to move and stood up, stretching his arms high over his head until his back cracked as he arched to one side.

Reese's eyes were locked on his chest, so he dragged the stretching out a little, twisting to the right and the left in smooth turns that showed off his abs and his chest, still cut enough to catch the eye. When he caught Reese staring after one blatantly show-offy stretch, he couldn't hide his grin, running a hand over his own chest and giving himself a tiny shiver of response to the slow stroke.

“If I lie down, any chance you wanna lie down with me?” Two steps over to Reese's bed, where he'd never once sat or lain before. But he figured that pushing that boundary now was probably a good thing.

Reese moved until he stood over Tom, staring down at him.

“You're not freaking out.”

“No, I'm not.” Easier to show than tell he supposed. He shucked off his jeans and his shorts, kicking them off the end of the mattress.

Reese's eyes widened at his suddenly naked state.

“You wanted that.”

“I came to get you for that.” He scratched his belly idly with one hand, listening to himself, and decided to rephrase that. “Actually, I didn't think it'd get anything like that far, but yeah, I wanted that.” He scooched over until his shoulder was pressed against the wall. “I wanted that like I couldn't breathe without it. That's why I came back.”

His roommate, now maybe lover, sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, ready to bolt.

“But you'll leave again.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” He wasn't sugarcoating the desire, he wouldn't do that to the conflict. “Not tonight, but probably tomorrow, yeah. I'll have to go.”

“To Boston.”

Reese's hand on his chest, so light it was hardly more pressure than a small bird fluttering there. But touching him. Still.

“That's right.”

“And you'll come back Sunday night.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Reese left his jeans on and Tom didn't make a move toward them. Toward Reese at all. He let the smaller man swing his legs up on the skinny bed and find a spot next to him, hoping Reese would end up touching him but not pushing for anything other than this, lying here with a half-naked boy he wanted lying next to him.