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“It really wasn’t.”
“For you maybe…”
Tate shrugged again, once again pretending like this wasn’t a big deal. “I got it with our student discount. I want you to have it because I want you to do well here. I don’t want anything holding you back. Including that old paperweight of yours. It’s not going to last much longer.” He pulled the MacBook from my hands and set it on my desk. When he turned, a frown marred his handsome face. “How about a thank you instead of fighting me on this?”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m done talking about it. That’s not why I came here.”
My forehead scrunched together. I’d deal with the laptop again later. “Then why did you come here?”
He stalked back over to his backpack and dug around until he found what he was searching for. I didn’t know how he found anything in that damn thing.
But what I was not expecting was for him to pull out what he did.
When he turned toward me again, he gripped the neck of an unopened fifth of Jim Beam and was smiling.
The student residents weren’t allowed to have alcohol in the dorms and the university was very strict on that policy. I could risk losing my housing if we got caught.
Maybe even lose my scholarship.
Since we went to parties practically every weekend, we had no reason to drink in my room. Plus, Tate had his own apartment off campus. It made no sense. “Why would you bring that here?”
He licked his lips, most likely out of nervousness. When he began to fidget, it slowly sunk in as to why he brought the booze. I wasn’t quite sure what to think, so I’d need to hear it from him. I wasn’t going to assume anything.
Hooking our pinkies together this week in class was far different from anal sex. Or even a blowjob. Or frotting, what we did last weekend by rubbing our cocks together and causing that messy explosion in my underwear.
And anyway, we weren’t even sure if he was gay, or bi, or… whatever. The label wasn’t the important part. We hadn’t talked about what happened last weekend at all, which I’d been meaning to do. I was only giving him space and time because I was trying to avoid him freaking out all over again.
I figured him hooking our pinkies together in class—even as small of a gesture as it was—was a good start and if he wanted to build whatever was between us from there, we could.
But did he now want to take the plunge and just dive right in to see if sex with other men was for him?
Was I supposed to be his test subject? I wasn’t completely opposed to him having his way with me, but still…
Did he really want to take it further tonight than just getting each other off?
“I,” he took a breath, then the rest of the words tumbled out, “want to explore this.” He waved a hand between us. “I brought some reinforcement.” My eyes dropped to the bottle of Jim Beam in his hand when he lifted it.
“Lube and condoms would have been a better choice,” I said dryly, not sure about any of this.
“Well, I figured you had some. But if not, I brought those, too, just in case. However,” he lifted the bottle up in the air again, “I need this first.”
He needed liquid courage to be with me? That wasn’t very reassuring.
And did he actually want to fuck? Or did he just want to play like we did last weekend in his bed? He’d been freaked out about that and it hadn’t gone as far as being intrusive.
Anal sex was definitely intrusive. Very intrusive.
Worse, I hadn’t expected this at all, so I hadn’t prepped like I normally would. I didn’t mind being a bottom for his first time and, of course, that would be easier than if he was…
I shook myself mentally. No, this was too much. I couldn’t wrap my head around him wanting to take us to the next step, wanting to explore, as he called it.
I was thrilled but worried at the same time.
As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to lose him, even if I had to keep him in the friend zone. However, that wouldn’t happen if we kept having sex, even if it didn’t get as far as doing the actual “deed.” Sex didn’t need penetration to be satisfying or to be considered sex.
Jerking each other off, sucking each other’s cocks, frotting, docking… the list was endless on what we could do.
He placed the bottle on my desk and then went back to Dom’s bed to pull two Dixie cups out of his backpack. Being stuffed in his bag had basically crushed the small waxed cups so he worked them back into shape. While he did this, it was hard to ignore the shake in his fingers.
