Page 11 of The Jock Next Door

My robe feels like a straitjacket. The room is too small. The air too thick. I want to run, but where to? I’m already in my own room. All I can do is stand here, pinned by his gaze, while he lays out all the secrets I thought I was hiding.

“Take it off,” he says. More of a demand this time.

“Trey—”

“Take the robe off, Nico. Let me see you.”

8

Idon’t know what makes me do it. His tone. The way he said my name. Him lying on my bed, naked and unashamed, looking at me like no one ever has. My fingers find the knot on the belt. It comes loose easily. I shrug and the terrycloth slides off, pooling at my feet.

I’m naked. In front of him. The desk lamp catches every pale, exposed inch of me. The thin, wiry muscle of my arms and legs. The jutting angles of my hips and collarbones. My cock is fully, embarrassingly hard, pointing right at him. But I fight the urge to cover myself.

Trey’s eyes move over me. Slow. A long sweep that lights my skin on fire.

“See?” he says. “That wasn’t so hard.”

I don’t know what to do with my hands. They hang at my sides, fists clenching and unclenching. My heart is hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His gaze drops to my cock, then climbs back to my face.

“Well. That’s not true, is it?” A grin. “Part of you is very hard.”

My face burns. I don’t have a comeback. I don’t have anything. Just the roaring in my ears and the desperate, aching need that’s been building for days, finally boiling over.

“I’m—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say sorry.” He sits up straighter, adjusting himself. “Look what you’re doing to me.”

That’s when I see it. The gradual thickening. The heavy weight of him starting to lift off his thigh. He’s getting hard too. That big cock of his getting even bigger. The sight of it empties my brain like a pulled plug.

“Yeah,” he says, seeing my reaction. “You’re not the only one.” He wraps a hand around himself, one slow stroke from base to tip. A bead of fluid glistens at the slit. “This is what you do to me.”

I can’t believe this is real. The guy I was terrified of bumping into in the hallway. The one I listened to through the wall, sketched until my fingers cramped. He’s stroking himself to full hardness. Because of me.

“So you’re…” I swallow. “This isn’t just... you’re actually into guys?”

His brow creases. “Does it matter? I’m into you.”

That makes it somehow even more absurd. How could a guy like him, someone who looks like that, with that kind of confidence, be interested in me? I’m an awkward art student who hides in his room. But the look he’s giving me, that dark heat in his eyes, makes it hard to argue.

“I’ve never…” The words die in my throat.

“Never what?” His thumb circles the head of his cock, smearing the wetness. “And relax. I can see you vibrating from over here.”

“I’ve never... done this. With a guy.”

“What are we doing? We’re just hanging out.”

“I mean⁠—”

“I know what you mean.” He stops stroking but keeps his hand where it is, wrapped around the thick shaft. “But you still haven’t told me what you want. You gotta use your words, Nico.”

I take a shaky breath. How do I say it? My thoughts are filthy, but saying them out loud is a different skill.

“So you never had a cock in that pretty mouth,” he says when I don’t answer.

I shake my head.

“Wanna try?”