He’s right, though. That’s the worst part. He’s right. Iamhorny. Nineteen and still a virgin. Pathetic. I’m tired of being the only one in our group who has nothing to contribute when the guys start swapping stories. Jace alone could write a novel on the subject, and even Kyle, who’s about as smooth as sandpaper, managed to lose it sophomore year. All I’ve got are fumbled attempts and a palm full of lotion.
College is supposed to be the time. Everyone says so. I’m supposed to be racking up body counts, living my best life, hooking up with a different girl every weekend. But every time one grinds on me at a party, every time one backs me into a corner and reaches into my jeans, I’m soft. Useless. And I can’t explain it. She’s hot, she’s willing, so what gives? Why does my dick refuse to cooperate? Performance anxiety, I guess. Fearof letting her down. That I’ll be bad. That she’ll tell everyone. Whatever. The whole thing makes me sick.
“Why don’t you do it, then? If it’s so great?” I snap.
“Oh, I will, bro.” He winks, then lowers his voice. “I was just giving you first dibs, is all.”
“Generous.”
I cross my arms and lean against the partition, waiting for him to back down. Because yeah, Jace is a player. He’ll fuck anything with a pulse and a ponytail. But this? Whipping it out in some grimy back area with his best friend standing right there? When it could be some dude on the other side? No way. Even he has limits.
But he doesn’t back down. Instead, he reaches for the waistband of his sweats. I wait for the punchline. The laugh. The “got you, bro.” It doesn’t come. He pulls the drawstring loose and tugs his sweats down to his thighs, like this is something we do all the damn time.
I should look away. That’s what you do when your buddy drops his pants. Look away, give him some privacy. But I don’t. I stare at the bulge in his boxer briefs, at the way the white fabric stretches over the shape of him. I can’t tell if he’s half hard already or if he’s just that big. My breath catches, and I force myself to look at his face instead. He’s grinning. Cocky bastard.
He reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, thumbs hooking under the elastic, and my hand shoots out before I even think about it. I grab his wrist. “Whoa, hold on.”
“What?”
“You’re not really gonna do this, are you?” My voice comes out a little thin.
He pries my fingers off him. “Watch me.”
“Wait.” The word comes out as a gasp. “You don’t know who’s over there, man.”
“Damn, Luca. Two years I’ve known you, and I’m only now finding out you’re this much of a prude.” He shoves his boxer briefs down enough to free himself.
And wow. Okay. That’s… yeah. That’s a dick. Abigone. He isn’t even hard yet, but he’s thick, thicker than me, longer too, curving slightly to the left with a dark thatch of hair at the base. He curls a hand around the shaft and gives himself a few lazy pumps. The purple glow catches the wetness beading at the tip.
Then he turns toward the wall, shoves his hips forward, and slides right into the hole.
2
Jace has been dragging me into weird shit since the day we met.
Freshman orientation, we were both stuck in this sad little circle of future engineers, listening to some guy drone on about course loads and internships. The second we got a break, Jace grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here. I know a place.” I didn’t even know his name yet. I just followed him.
That place turned out to be a tattoo shop. I’d never considered getting one. The idea of needles anywhere near my skin makes my stomach turn. I can’t even watch someone draw blood without going lightheaded. But somehow, half an hour later, we were both sitting there with matching lightning bolts on our inner forearms.
The artist joked that we were stuck with each other for life now. Jace threw his arm around my shoulders and said, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I looked at my arm, at the little black bolt still red and swollen around the edges, and thought,what the fuck did I just do?I’d known this guy for two hours.
Then there was the cliff jumping. The ghost pepper challenge. The night we snuck into the abandoned asylum. Every insane, impulsive, borderline illegal thing I’ve done in the past two years has had Jace’s fingerprints all over it.
Getting Luca out of his shell. That’s what he calls it.
But none of those things involved whipping our dicks out. We were never those guys who jerked off together to porn or compared sizes in the shower. There was a line, I thought, between friends who get into trouble together and… whatever this is. I always figured that line sat somewhere around being naked in front of each other.
Apparently, I was wrong.
I watch Jace wrap his hand around the base of his cock, guiding himself deeper through the glory hole, the purple light catching the lightning bolt on his inner forearm. My stomach twists. I should leave. Give him some privacy. Let him have his fun. But I can’t. My feet are rooted to the sticky floor.
“And?” I whisper. “Is anyone…?”
He shushes me. Leans his forehead against the partition. Then I hear it. A soft, muffled moan from the other side of the wall. Wet sounds, too. Slick, rhythmic. Slurping.
Holy shit.Someone’s actually blowing him. A complete stranger. A mystery person in the next booth.
My throat tightens. “A girl?”
