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“Cut him some slack,” I say, pulling up a chair and spinning it backwards, resting my knee on the seat. “Now, it’s not much, but I can probably donate my half of the self defense class profits to the building. I’ve got cash squared away to keep me up this semester, and I can pick up some work over the holidays to get me into next.”
Korra shakes her head. “That’s your money. Listen. We were thinking about this. How about a blind date/bachelor auction kind of thing? We could even pool in some of the jocks to appease the dean.”
“You think he’d go for something like that?”
Korra’s eyes light up with a wicked determination.
“I think there’s a lot more queer leaning people on campus than the dean thinks there is. In the community as a whole. I think we could rally them together for this.”
“Do you think that many people are hard up for a date?” Rascal asks.
Korra rolls her eyes. “We’ll make it fun. Let people sign up and build their own date package. Their dream date. They make a donation to be involved in the auction, a bigger one if they want us to come up with a date for them. We can advertise some of the ideas to spread buzz. It could be so fun.”
Rascal doesn’t look entirely convinced, but at this point I’m willing to try anything.
“Poll the building, and if it’s favorable, poll the socials. If there’s interest, we can make up a proposal and show it to the dean.”
Korra claps her hands in excitement while Rascal gives me a skeptical look.
“You that hard up for sex you’d offer yourself up on a platter?”
His voice is louder than it has been, and I look over my shoulder to see Shiloh with one earbud out glancing our way.
“If I wanted sex, there’s at least one person in this room who would bend over in a heartbeat.” I smirk and watch Rascal’s face turn pink.
There’s rustling in the corner, but I choose not to look back. Instead, I spend the next twenty minutes ironing out details with Korra and Rascal, pretending I don’t feel the heat of Shiloh’s stare.
Just as we’re wrapping up, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Brat: If you’re going to fuck him, don’t bring him back to the room.
Me: Who I fuck isn’t any of your concern. But I have enough respect not to bring that into your space. I assume you’ll give me the same courtesy?
Brat: Oh, you mean you’re letting me get laid? How kind of you.
Me: Maybe I should make you bring them to the dorm. So I can make sure sex is really what you’re getting up to.
Brat: Pervert.
I cover my mouth to hide the smile creeping up.
I’ve got it bad for this boy, and it can only get worse from here.
That night, I have my laptop on my bed for the first time in a while without work sitting open on the screen. I don’t get a whole lot of time for rest and relaxation, so I have the room light off with a lamp on the desk switched on and a video loaded up to shut my brain off and veg to for the next hour.
I’m maybe fifteen minutes into it and absently stroking my junk—not for any sexual reason, just for how nice the touch feels—when the door opens and Shiloh steps in wearing a loose tank and a pair of boxers with his wet hair dripping down his face.
The stiffy I’m sporting twitches the moment I lay eyes on him.
“Maybe the man does know how to take it easy,” Shiloh snorts as he chucks his dirty clothes into the hamper next to the closet.
“I take it as hard as you can give it.” I don’t mean to make the banter slip out, but the grin I’m met with makes the blip in judgment worth it.
“Must be watching some pretty hardcore stuff then.”
I don’t expect him to walk straight to my bed and plop himself on the edge, but I can’t say I don’t like that he does. He smells like Axe body wash, like an overabundance of Fresh Spring or some other generic fragrance, but my body responds to it eagerly.
Maybe it has been a little too long since I’ve gotten laid.
