by Jack Woolf
They settled back into eating, finishing the last traces of their food and sipping down their sodas.
"By the way, do you wanna go to the party tonight?"
"There's a party tonight?" Oliver asked.
Owen barked out a loud laugh. "We're in college now, bro. There's always going to be a party whenever and wherever. But yeah, there's a welcoming party for freshmen at an apartment just off campus."
"Yeah, I'm game."
Back in their dorm room, Oliver ran through his clothing options, picking out the dark skinny dark jeans that always pulled in the ladies. He remembered the girls who eyed him in the dorm and felt like that was the safer route of thoughts.
"Good,” Owen said. “There's still time before the party. I was thinking of finishing up with unpacking and then hitting the gym."
"Oh cool, I should probably hit the gym, too—you know, to impress the ladies." Oliver wiggled his eyebrows, flexing the muscles on one of his arms. Owen just smiled, his eyes darkening.
"Yeah," was all Owen said.
Owen finished fixing the rest of his things. Oliver did the same, taking more of his things out of their boxes and placing them on his desk. Oliver wasn't much for mementos, but he had a lot of books and other supplies he needed for his courses.
Books crowded his desk, calculators and pens and everything else he would need to begin his major in pre-med. Owen hung a poster of his favorite band by his desk, which was a nice personal touch in their room. Oliver placed the small picture of his family in his wallet. It was all the memento he needed to stave off homesickness.
They changed clothes into something more appropriate for working out and headed for the university gym. The large building was packed with workout equipment of all kinds. Owen said the facility was so nice because athletes also trained there. Oliver whistled and did the routine workout he decided to keep when he stopped playing football.
Owen did his own workout but kept close to Oliver. They tried their best to talk with each other, but as they grew more into it, it became harder to keep up the conversation. They settled for watching each other and asking each other to spot the other when they needed it. When Oliver spotted for Owen, he couldn't help but admire the muscles on his body. They flexed and turned into hard surfaces on Owen's body.
Oliver had seen muscles flex before, but somehow, watching Owen work out was more pleasing than watching most guys. He shook the thought away and tried his best to avoid seeing Owen work out. It proved to be a difficult task as he found himself glancing every so often. Every time he looked away, he would wonder what came over him.
Oliver didn't understand this constant need to watch Owen, keep his eyes on him, listen to him when he spoke. He tried to shake the need away as much as he could. He'd noticed how the need was growing as the day passed, and he nearly felt like sticking himself like glue to the man's side. It was outrageous, especially when Oliver had never been attracted to men before.
He kept telling himself it was nothing, that he wasn't gay, that this was just admiration because Owen was interesting, had a great body and personality. He was an all-around good guy and that's all. I'm not gay I'm not gay I'm not gay, he chanted in his mind whenever he caught his eyes lingering on the hard lines of Owen’s chest and abs.
The mind-torturing workout finally ended after what seemed like hours, and Oliver allowed himself to sigh in relief when they headed for the shower. Except to his horror, he realized this was where things got worse.
Owen unashamedly undressed in front of him, throwing his clothes on top of his bag and standing naked out of his chosen shower stall. Oliver felt like he'd drop his jaw at the sight, but kept his mouth shut and took off his own clothes. He tried not to peek in at the stall beside him where Owen stood taller than the barricades.
From where he stood, if Oliver looked down just slightly he could see everything Owen had to offer. He tried to resist a sneaking glance, but wow, did Owen have a lot to offer. Stop it, Oliver scolded himself. He focused on his shower, closing his eyes when the spray of water hit his face. Which proved to be the wrong move as thoughts of Owen's body entered his mind.
Owen had a nice long thick cock, even though it wasn't hard and was just a little bit bigger than Oliver's. He had to swallow at the image in his mind, Owen's hands soaping up his body, starting with his cock and working his way up and then down.
"Damn," Oliver muttered to himself. He didn't know what was happening to him, but he could feel arousal pooling low in his gut. If he thought about it anymore, then he'd be too hard to hide it in the bathroom.
Oliver rushed to bathe, desperately shaking thoughts of Owen's naked body out of his head. They managed to slip in every few seconds, but Oliver was quick to dismiss them. He finished bathing in five minutes, toweling in under ten seconds and then pulling his clothes haphazardly over his body. Owen was still showering.
"Dude," Oliver called out, careful to keep his eyes straight and not peeking in the stall. "I gotta head back to the room. I'll see you when you finish."
"Huh? Yeah okay."
Oliver didn't bother checking Owen's face before he rushed out of the bathroom. He needed to get back to the room, he needed privacy, he needed to allow himself to explode.
IV.
Once inside the room, Oliver threw himself on his bed, tossed and turned, and tried to think of a solution to his growing problem. He tried not to think about Owen or how he was physically attracted to the guy. He kept his thoughts focused on how to flush the feelings out. He needed to think about girls, the hot ones he slept with in high school, the cheerleaders who practically begged to suck him off. But the more he turned to girls for distraction, the more Owen replaced their images.
Soon, he pictured Owen begging to suck him off, kneeling down at his feet and eyes looking up at him like he needed to have Oliver's cock in his mouth. The more he thought about it, the farther his daydreaming went. He could almost imagine Owen touching him, peeling off his pants and his hot breath ghosting over his cock. His mouth would open, wider than any of the girls who'd given him head before.
Oliver swallowed as his cock twitched in their loose confines. If he touched himself now, he'd be thinking about Owen until he came and god, that thought was so tempting. He bit his lip and tugged his shorts just low enough so he could free his cock. He didn't even bother thinking about stopping, he just continued the daydream and stroked his cock just the way he liked it when he needed to come fast.
Thoughts of Owen bringing him to completion filled his mind, and his hand stroked faster, spitting on it when he needed a smoother glide. Oliver tried not to think about how hard he was, just focused on getting off, on pretending that his hands were Owen's hands, Owen’s mouth. He turned his head into the pillow, muffling his groans. He couldn't believe how turned on he was.
Oliver thrust into his clenched hand with no rhyme or rhythm, just a desperate attempt to come as soon as possible. His lust for Owen was freaking him out, but he couldn’t stop. He grunted into his mattress and stroked even faster, hands forming a tighter grip on his cock.
"Fuck," he muttered, when he was so close. He just needed a little more of a push, he just needed—
"Hey," Owen's deep voice said.
Oliver came to the sound of Owen’s voice, his come spilled onto his loose shirt. He barely recovered from the force of it when Owen's laughter filled the place. Mortified, Oliver did his best to cover himself up and stared at his roommate in horror.
"Jesus, Ollie," Owen said, a smile clear on those thick lips and amusement glittering in his eyes.
Oliver felt like jumping off the nearest cliff. "Next time lock the door and open the window." He threw Oliver a pack of tissues and patted him on the shoulder. "Clean up, little buddy. It’s time to go to the party."
Oliver accepted the tissues and wiped himself off as quickly and gently as possible before tucking himself back in his boxer briefs. He threw off his stained shirt, still feeling a flush of embarrassment. Because Owen did not seem fazed t
hat he'd caught Oliver masturbating, however, it was easier to move on. He didn't bother explaining himself and hoped that Owen wouldn't tease him about it later.
They stayed silent as they got dressed, Owen occasionally humming to himself as he picked out some clothes. Oliver busied himself with trying to forget he even used Owen as masturbation material. He focused on the kind of shirt that would go with his dark jeans, something that would help him find a girl to help him find relief. He settled for a light blue shirt that he'd bought only a couple of weeks earlier.
Folding the sleeves and leaving the top two buttons open, Oliver examined himself in the mirror attached to their closet.
"You look good," Owen commented, peeking in behind him, his head just above Oliver's shoulder. Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat and turned around to observe Owen's own clothes.
Owen settled for khaki shorts that showed off his sculpted calves. From the waist up, Owen had pulled on a light sweater that clung perfectly to his upper body. Every muscle was accentuated by the dark sweater. If Oliver peered closer, he could almost see the shape of Owen's abs. He quickly lifted his head and focused on Owen's eyes.
"You look good, too," he said, voice a little strained. He had to clear his throat, but Owen didn't question him about it.
"Thanks. You ready?" Owen asked, and Oliver didn't trust himself with speaking so he nodded. Owen gestured for them to go. After writing “OUT” on the dry-erase board hung from their door, Oliver followed Owen as he knew where to go.
They walked a couple of blocks from the university and entered a tall building, then climbed up the stairs. As they went further up, Oliver could feel the music's thrum through the walls. He nodded his head along to the beat and Owen hummed, occasionally blurting out the lyrics. Oliver thought it was cute before he shook the thought away.
Owen opened the door to the rooftop where the music and bodies of people dancing along greeted them. Oliver smiled at the familiar ambiance, moving along through the crowd so he and Owen could get a couple of beers. Girls waved and smiled at him. Some even came close to touch and feel him through his shirt before going away, whispering promises of “Come find me” before walking away.
Owen got the same attention, but from both guys and girls. He reciprocated their intentions by pulling them close and whispering things in their ears. He seemed to be flirting with everyone. Oliver swallowed as something like jealousy burned through his gut. It wasn't that he was grossed out by it. He'd seen similar things back in high school.
It was more that these people could freely touch Owen and he—well, something was definitely stopping him.
"Come on," Owen's voice filtered in his thoughts, his hand warm on Oliver’s wrist. He pulled Oliver to the mini makeshift bar where a bartending student offered them beer. After paying, they settled somewhere a little quieter and clinked their bottles together. Oliver wasn't going to lie, he drank a couple more than Owen, just so he could be distracted by something other than this disturbing attraction.
"So," Oliver started, voice a little louder because the music was almost deafening. "You swing both ways?"
Owen nodded before looking at Oliver a little alarmed. "Does that bother you?"
"Oh, no, yeah, I just noticed and wanted to"—Oliver cleared his throat and softened his voice— "confirm."
"Yeah, I swing both ways. My sis has been taking me to college parties for a few years so word gets around."
"What's it like?" Oliver found himself asking. He wished that his mouth would stop getting the better of him. He didn't even want to ask, not really.
Owen chuckled, standing closer to Oliver. He leaned forward, lips close to Oliver's ear and hot breath fanning his cool skin. "It's like living the best of both of worlds." Oliver couldn't hide the shudder that wracked his body, and he could tell Owen noticed with the way he smiled when he pulled away.
"Come on, let's dance," Owen said, chugging down his beer and throwing away the bottle. Oliver did the same and followed after Owen.
They mixed themselves in with the crowd and danced along to the beat. Somewhere along the way, they got separated. Oliver found himself crowded with girls, most of them grinding against his body. He returned the gesture, making sure to feel them through the thin clothing. He focused on the feeling, on the difference of girls and Owen. They were smooth and soft, like baby's skin, and were nice to the touch. Oliver pulled the one grinding down in front of him closer, making sure to press himself against her ass.
The girl moaned and pressed back, turning back to smirk up at him. She turned back around and wrapped her arms around his neck, her long nails scratching his scalp lightly. It was a sensation he was all too familiar with, and soon he grew bored of it, even if it did send tingles of pleasure up and down his skin. Even though he didn't want to, his eyes roamed around the crowd of dancers. Most of them were closed off to the world, but Owen, Owen towered over the others.
There were people wrapped around Owen, guys and girls. Owen didn't notice Oliver or pay him any mind. It made Oliver want to look, even more, to feel the weight of Owen’s gaze. When he caught himself, Oliver froze and then looked away. He pulled away from the girl and distracted himself by swaying along with the crowd. He stopped accepting advances from different women. He didn't want them; his body didn't want them.
For what seemed like a long time, Oliver lost himself in the music and the crowd. He didn't think about Owen and felt less confused about the whole thing. It didn't last long, not when a figure behind him pressed himself against him. Oliver stiffened and quickly looked back, ready to fight the person. He stepped back, surprised to find Owen smiling down at him.
V.
"Dance with me!" Owen shouted on the dance floor. Sweat matted his hair to his face, and the moonlight was shining down on him, exposing his flushed cheeks and the sharp tilt of his nose. And really, there was no way Oliver could say no to that. He just nodded and turned back, carefully pressing back against Owen once more.
Owen gently placed his hands on Oliver's hips and pulled him closer, until their bodies were flushed against each other. Owen ran hotter than most people and he heated up Oliver's already warm skin. Owen swayed his hips from side to side and without him having to, Oliver followed the movement, swaying back and occasionally pressing harder against what he knew was Owen's cock.
Oliver tried not to think about it too much and moved to the music, focused on the beat, on the melody, and danced like he had literally just seconds before. Owen didn't seem to mind, even when their bodies moved out of sync, his hands never left Oliver's sides. It comforted Oliver a little that Owen didn't do anything else with his hands, but the need to leave never really left. When the music dulled for a moment, Oliver decided he would take the chance.
The moment came three songs later, and by then his body was pressed against Owen, a delicious presence to his back. It was almost torture having to tear himself away, but Oliver pushed himself, told himself that this wasn't what he wanted, not what his body wanted. He took one step away and then Owen was pulling him back again.
Oliver found himself chest to chest with his friend, their faces so close that Owen's breath was hot on his cheeks.
"Where're you goin'?" Owen practically breathed on his lips.
Oliver made to answer, he really did, but Owen pulled him close and brushed his lips against Oliver's, leaning closer until he was fully kissing Oliver. Almost as if his thoughts and conscience left him, Oliver kissed back, hands sliding up Owen's back to rest on his hair, tugging him closer.
Owen tasted like the beer they had, a mix of something else, something Oliver had never tasted but was so good. He pressed closer, swiped his tongue on Owen's bottom lip and tasted more of that flavor that he assumed was just Owen's alone. Somewhere along the kiss, someone had moaned, and the sound was so loud and guttural that Oliver had to pull back.
It was like a wake-up call. Owen looked dazed and confused, but ready to pull back in with his hands gripping Oliver's waist tig
ht. Oliver pushed him away. This isn't right ran through his mind multiple times, followed by I'm not gay.
"What's wrong? Owen asked, leaning closer. Whether to kiss him or to hear him better, Oliver wasn't sure. Oliver didn't want to know, pushing Owen away, hands hard and mind clear. When Owen started resisting, Oliver pushed with all his might. The surprise on Owen's face was all the distraction Oliver needed to get away, running out of the rooftop club.
His mind ran with so many different opposing thoughts that he just needed to breathe. He ran down the stairs until he was out the door and breathing in the air of the campus. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. All he knew was that the farther he went, the clearer his mind became. When he finally calmed down, Oliver realized that he was in an unfamiliar part of the university neighborhood. He was so far from the dorm and the buildings he'd memorized that he had no idea how to find his way back. He checked his phone, but of course it was dead.
Oliver took a deep breath and settled on one of the benches to gather his thoughts. He tried not to focus on the thought that he was lost. It would be easy to find his way to the dorm; he wasn't stupid. He could do something about it at least, but what he couldn't control were his feelings for Owen. It had barely been a full day since they met and already his body was craving the man. It felt right and wrong at the same time. There was also the matter of him never being attracted to a man before. He just didn't think it was possible.