Out of this World (Browerton University Book 5)

by A. J. Truman

  Eamonn kicked the door shut before Rafe pulled him into an epic kiss.

  RAFE

  Rafe had pre-planned his outfit for the flight home. It was the same button-down shirt and jeans he’d worn on his flight over to England. He considered it a thoughtful bookend to his journey, and he wondered if his parents would notice.

  He threw said pre-planned outfit off his bed and across the room. He lay down and Eamonn got on top of him. Rafe gladly opened his mouth for Eamonn’s tongue to enter. They kissed and rolled around on the bed in a type of emotional wrestling match. They were in a cloud of sweat and tears and lust and need. All that existed was this moment, and Rafe tried to hold onto it like a firefly in his hand.

  Eamonn’s hot breath filled up his mouth. He wrapped him in a cocoon of his arms, strong and sinewy.

  Shirts came off, then pants, then underwear. Rafe’s fingers grazed down Eamonn’s cut chest and abs, reading them like a book in Braille. Rafe grasped at any and all parts of Eamonn, anything he could hold onto and commit to memory.

  Rafe spread his legs, letting Eamonn rest between them. His thick cock branded his inner thigh. Rafe’s erection was doing the same thing back.

  “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

  “I want to bloody devour you.” The rasp in his voice gave it extra edge. He kept stroking Rafe’s hair, drilling holes with his eyes.

  Rafe fetched his bottle of lube and a condom from his toiletries bag, which was of course buried at the bottom of the suitcase. He didn’t care if his clothes got wrinkled. He’d deal with that back in America.

  He stood at the edge of the bed. “Actually, there’s something I want to do.”

  Eamonn cocked an eyebrow.

  “I want to…well, rim you.”

  Eamonn’s mouth perked up in the hottest smile, which was such a relief to Rafe.

  “You are so cheeky.”

  He flipped onto his stomach and arched his back. Rafe had long admired Eamonn’s ass. He’s watched it walk away from him in the bathroom or get covered with boxer-briefs when Eamonn got dressed. Now it was in front of him in its smooth, muscular glory. Rafe got on the bed and spread Eamonn apart, finding his pink hole. He pressed his tongue against the opening.

  “Fuck. Eat that fucking ass, mate.” Even on all fours, Eamonn still had control of the situation.

  Rafe rimmed Eamonn, feeling those firm cheeks in his hand and the taste of musk and sweat in his mouth. Eamonn moaned his approval. His balls and cock hung heavy just below. Rafe licked those, too.

  “That’s right. Tongue those balls.”

  Rafe pushed through the ring of muscle and played with his tight hole. With a free hand, he stroked Eamonn’s hard cock. Eamonn let out a string of expletives, all positive.

  “You taste fucking amazing,” Rafe said.

  Eamonn sat up and turned around, putting his cock right in Rafe’s face. Rafe was so horned up from the rimming that right away, he took Eamonn to his base. He gagged, and Eamonn had to pull out after a second, but it was worth it.

  “Take that prick,” Eamonn commanded with a lusty drawl.

  Rafe sucked and stroked his uncut cock, remembering their lessons. Eamonn lightly threaded his fingers through his hair, knowing exactly how much pressure to give. They both felt a sense of time evaporating and need desperately pulling them together. The time for foreplay was over. He deep-throated Eamonn one last time and savored the final taste of his dick filling up his mouth.

  He lay on the bed, and Rafe straddled him. His thick cock rubbed against Rafe’s hole. Rafe ran his hands over his chest. Rafe felt some power being on top, king of the mountain.

  Eamonn plunged two lubed-up fingers inside him.

  “Eamonn,” Rafe said, trying to mask the want and hurt strangling his throat as the Brit entered him.

  “No tears.”

  They made love that night in a fever dream of longing and fear. Eamonn didn’t let Rafe go, not even when he fucked him. He grabbed his thighs, then sat up and hugged him close. His arms were bungee cords around Rafe, holding him tight against his sweaty chest as he thrust into his opening. Eamonn’s hair fell in his eyes, and he had this intense, almost wounded look etched in his face.

  “Fuck me harder,” Rafe said. He wanted Eamonn deep inside him, filling him up completely, digging his hard fingers into his back.

  Eamonn fucked the life out of Rafe, pounding his ass and giving him the cock he so badly wanted. He rested his forehead against Rafe’s.

  “Rafe.” He thought it was sweat that glistened on Eamonn’s face, but it was salty tears.

  He threw Rafe on his back and hovered over him. Their slicked-up chests slid over one another. He didn’t look away from Rafe. His stare was a tractor beam Rafe couldn’t wiggle free from.

  Rafe knew when Eamonn was coming. He knew the shocks and shifts of his body tensing up, of the pained moans he emitted. Rafe wasn’t far behind, grunting as his balls drew up, ready for release.

  Eamonn interlocked his fingers with Rafe’s as they came.

  Connected.

  * * *

  After they showered together one final time, they spent the rest of the night, or rather early morning, watching old episodes of The I.T. Crowd on Eamonn’s bed, since his monitor was still set up. Just as Rafe was about to fall asleep in Eamonn’s arms, his phone alarm went off.

  Time’s up.

  “It’s four already?” Eamonn asked.

  “Unfortunately.”

  Rafe shrugged. What was he supposed to say in this moment? I’ll see ya? Nope, he wouldn’t. See you around? Not that either. Have a great Christmas and New Year’s? Who gave a fuck about those holidays right now when Rafe’s heart was getting squashed?

  The best goodbye was not saying goodbye at all.

  “Why don’t you come with me to the airport? We can at least have a little bit more time in the van together,” Rafe said.

  “All right.”

  Rafe thought he’d be more into the idea.

  “I’m going to get my stuff together and brush my teeth. I’ll meet you in the hallway in a few minutes.”

  Eamonn gave him a thumbs up.

  He raced back to his room and did a thorough, final search of his dorm room. He left no stone unturned in his quest to find anything he forgot to pack. Under his desk, by the power outlet, was a Stonehenge brochure he’d gotten on their excursion. He rubbed it between his fingers and stored it in his backpack.

  Rafe saw the van drive up outside his dorm. He waved to the driver and gave the “one minute” signal. He recognized him as Joseph from the original drive to Stroude. That seemed like five million years ago. Five million Rafes ago.

  “Eamonn, you ready?” he whispered. Rafe tapped lightly at his door so as not to wake his flatmates. “Eamonn? Don’t tell me you fell asleep.”

  He was not asleep. Nor was he dressed or wearing shoes.

  “The van’s here.”

  “I’m…I don’t think I’m going to go with you.” Eamonn’s eyes were all bloodshot, his skin paler than usual. “I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “We should just say goodbye here.”

  Rafe went in for a kiss, but Eamonn gave him a tight hug instead.

  “Get home safe.”

  “We’ll definitely keep in touch. Email. Skype for sure. I want to hear that British accent again.”

  Eamonn gave what could barely be considered a nod.

  “Maybe this doesn’t have to end. We live in a global village. We can try to do long distance. Lots of people do it. And with technology, it’s so easy. I can come back for the summer, or you can come to America after you graduate. You could telecommute for your uncle’s company.” Rafe grasped at any rope he could find. He couldn’t let this be the end. “Tonight was so great. We can make this work.”

  He thought his suggestions would be romantic, but said aloud, without Eamonn nodding his head in agreement, they sounded chock full of desperation.

  Eamonn shook his head n
o, which might as well been one of his fists to Rafe’s face. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” he croaked out.

  Rafe’s phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Are you coming down?” Joseph asked. “I have to pick up other kids and get you to Heathrow on time.”

  “I’ll be right down.” Rafe hung up.

  This was it.

  “Okay, then.” Rafe gave Eamonn one final hug, and Eamonn pulled him close for a second before releasing.

  Rafe wheeled his luggage to the door and stopped. “Eamonn.” He figured out his goodbye. “You changed my life, and I love you.”

  Eamonn’s hand gripped his doorknob. He was trying so hard to be stoic that his face might break. “Cheers, mate.”

  His voice cracked at mate, and before he could say anything else, Eamonn went into his room and shut the door. The relationship, or whatever this was, ended as quickly as it began. Just like that, Rafe thought.

  Outside, the sky was as black as it’d been earlier this evening, but without the mystique. The moon continued to shine, but now it was a spotlight on a solitary Rafe.

  “Ready to go?” Joseph asked once they loaded up his luggage.

  “Yeah.”

  Joseph looked at him through the rearview mirror. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you, mate. It worked!”

  “What?” Rafe asked, mostly out of it.

  “Your plan for Janine. The heart made of candles and roses outside her balcony. We’re about to celebrate our three-month anniversary.” He was downright giddy for this ungodly hour.

  “That’s great.”

  “You told me to go big, and it worked.”

  At last it works for someone.

  The engine roared to life, and they drove away. Rafe peered out the back window once more at Sweeney Hall. His eyes traveled up to his floor. His old floor now. Through his tears, he thought he saw someone watching him from the kitchen window, though it may have been wishful thinking.

  Chapter 29

  RAFE

  “So, how was England?” his dad asked in the car ride home from the airport.

  What a question.

  Rafe rested his head against the window, drained from the long flight and his general heartbreak. His body was on a five-second delay, weighed down by sandbags of exhaustion.

  His mom handed him a bagel from Dunkin Donuts. “Welcome home!”

  He stared at the bagel as if it were an alien. He had zero appetite, and he wouldn’t tell his parents that he declined both meals offered on his flight.

  “I’ll bet it was nice to see the American flag and regular signs once you got off.” She was way too perky for first thing in the morning.

  “Yeah.”

  “You look exhausted,” she said. “Did you sleep on the flight?”

  “How was the flight? Were you in a window or aisle seat?”

  “And what kind of food did they serve? You never get meals on airplanes anymore, but I think it’s different for international flights. They had to at least have given you breakfast and a snack.”

  “I didn’t really get much sleep on the plane,” Rafe said. Every time he tried to shut his eyes, he kept seeing montages from his time at Stroude. Flashes of hanging out at Apothecary and cooking dinner in his flat and waking up next to Eamonn. Hearing Eamonn say “cheers, mate” and shut the door. The montages never ended on a high note. His time abroad felt like he had entered a new dimension. Alice went down the rabbit hole and nobody would believe her tales.

  “How does the jetlag hit you coming back?” his dad wondered aloud. “You should probably be more awake since it’s afternoon for you.”

  “But then he’s going to be more tired tonight because it will feel like midnight at dinnertime.”

  “He should probably fight to stay up until his regular bedtime.”

  “Can you guys stop talking about me like I’m not even here?” Rafe’s voice had a cat-like scratchiness in his throat. “It’s kind of rude.”

  “We didn’t know if you were sleeping back there,” his dad said.

  “Well, I’m not. I’ll try my best to stay up until tonight.” Rafe was afraid of going to sleep. He didn’t want any more montages and their down endings.

  “Rafe, are you all right?” his mom asked him through the rearview mirror.

  Y’alright?

  Rafe felt a tear forming just above his cheek.

  “He’s just,” his dad started before looking into the rearview mirror. “You’re just tired, right?”

  He glanced out the window. They were driving on the right side of the road. He saw all the familiar green highway markers, all the familiar billboards with their familiar stores and prices listed in their familiar dollar signs. It was good ole Virginia. No more adventure here.

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it hard to say goodbye?” his dad asked, and he was not referring to the campus. It took Rafe by surprise.

  “It was.”

  His mom turned around in her seat, her face full of motherly concern. “Are you two going to keep in touch? It’s so easy nowadays!”

  Keeping in touching sounded so trifling for him and Eamonn, as if they’d met at a networking event. And Eamonn had already given him an answer. A door in his face. No need dragging out the slow death of their relationship. All those times he’d been the Baxter or his grand romantic gestures failed, he had bounced back. Because it wasn’t serious. It wasn’t deep. He had given it the old college try and nothing more. But with Eamonn, he was invested. He had given himself completely and came up short. Being heartbroken was so much worse than being rejected. His heart wasn’t even broken. It had been ripped apart, and he could feel every tear.

  As he stared out the window, he thought that maybe there was a still of version of himself back there in England, one who stood on his own two feet. And they were connected.

  “I was thinking about it, and when I go back to school, I’m going to get a part-time job. Maybe as a waiter or runner or something.”

  “Rafe, I wouldn’t do that. I mean, how many hours are you talking about? You don’t want it to interfere with your course load.” His dad pinched his face and seesawed his head, and usually, Rafe would heed that warning. His father always knew best. But not this time. He was tired of following his parents’ good ideas.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Working at a restaurant, you’ll be exhausted from being on your feet. You’ll have to work at all hours, and you won’t even come home with that much,” his mom said.

  “I don’t need your permission to get a job,” Rafe said with an eerie calm. His mom was surprised at his reaction, and he hoped that maybe for the first time, she saw her son as a man. “Also, I’m going to apply for my own credit card. It’s about time I have one that’s solely mine. To build up credit.”

  “Oh, okay,” his mom said.

  His dad gave a small smile in the mirror. “We’re proud of you, Rafe.”

  “You’re growing up!”

  He realized that his parents, despite being overprotective, always meant well. He was grateful to have them, grateful that they loved him unconditionally. He didn’t realize that he had missed them until he was home. “I love you guys.”

  His dad reached behind him and squeezed Rafe’s knee. “Love you more.”

  EAMONN

  Eamonn chundered.

  He barely got “Cheers, mate” out before rushing into his room and hurling into the bloody toilet. The pain and hurt barreled through him and had to get out.

  The next day, there was no vomiting, but his body still felt like a bag of shite. He packed up for winter holiday and tried not to think about Rafe.

  You did the right thing cutting it off. This was never going to work.

  He shoved his clothes into his bag extra hard, not caring if they came out stretched or wrinkled. Doing the right thing wasn’t easy. Holy fuck, was it not easy. It was for the best that he put a firm end on their relationship in the flat. The truth was Eamonn couldn’t
go with Rafe to Heathrow. He couldn’t bear seeing another man he loved get on another airplane.

  He felt sick all over again. Back to the loo he went.

  Doing the right thing was bollocks.

  * * *

  The feeling persisted throughout holiday. Eamonn attended the box company’s office Christmas party, and he couldn’t even get in the festive mood despite the abundance of free food and alcohol. His future co-workers treated him like a full part of the team. They summoned him to the Xerox room to take shots. His two team leaders were in their forties, but they downed those shots like it was one quid drinks night at Apothecary. He liked all of his future co-workers. None of them took what they did too seriously. “At the end of the day, we’re just making boxes,” his boss had told him between shots.

  Eamonn went shot for shot with his co-workers, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Uncle George came up behind him and swung an arm around his shoulders. They clinked glasses.

  “Hiya. Having a good time?” Uncle George asked.

  “Yeah. It’s a great party.”

  “After a year of full-time work, you’ll come to truly appreciate a party like this.” Uncle George led him to where his cubicle would be. It had been decorated with red and green streamers like the rest of them. “I have big plans for you here. You have a very bright future ahead.”

  Eamonn smiled and nodded, appreciative of what his uncle was saying, but unable to muster any genuine excitement.

  Uncle George slapped him on the back. “You seem so serious! Loosen up. You’re at a party!”

  “I guess I just need more to drink.”

  “Don’t go overboard. These will be your co-workers and you still have to work with them.” His uncle left him to join some of the higher-ups for a cocktail.

  Eamonn looked out at the party, wishing he could feel an iota of the merriment that surrounded him.

  He left a few minutes later and met up with Heath at a pub in Guildford, not too far from his mum’s house. He instantly felt a bit better when that gangly Eiffel Tower of a man sat down next to him.

  “Happy Christmas,” Heath said.