Author's note: this is the second installment in a ten-part series.
~
That night, I am up late at the library reading for my politics class. The world is still roiling from the US invasion of Iraq back in the spring. The war and the broader actions of the US in the Middle East have dominated discussion in the class so far. The class is great, except for the fact that the professor has repeatedly singled me out -- turning to me several times to ask specifically for my take. He'd even said, "as a representative of your community, Amir, I'm curious what you think about..." Twenty-odd, mostly white faces turn to look at me, eager to hear what I have to say on behalf of the entire Middle East. This has been daunting and quite uncomfortable. Now, I feel pressure to be insanely prepared for each class.
It is after two in the morning by the time I get back to my room. Pete goes to sleep pretty early, usually around midnight, so I try to be quiet as I change into my PJs and creep into bed. When I close my eyes, the images I've been suppressing all day start to play across my eyelids. Jamie's hairy thighs, his easy smile. Streaks of cum across the toilet and the wall in the field house. Jamie's sweaty torso, Tim's muscular ass, my own hairy body in the mirror. My cock is at full mast, hard enough that I know it won't let me sleep.
Fuck.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, watching the faint shadows cast by trees in the quad shift back and forth. Pete is snoring softly. I roll onto my side and tuck my erection up under the waistband of my pajama pants. The images keep coming, but after a while, I am relieved to feel my thoughts slipping into the absurdist ephemera that precedes sleep.
~
I am in the kitchen now. One of my buddies spots me, grabs my arm, and drags me across the room.
"Amir, you piece of shit!" he yells. "You need a fucking drink, bro!"
I watch as he fills a red cup with blue-tinted beverage from a huge bowl sitting on the counter. I take a gulp and the taste of fruit punch and rum fills my mouth. I feel the warmth of the liquor spread through my belly and, despite being incredibly drunk already, I feel my senses tingle with the infusion of fresh alcohol.
My buddy disappears as quickly as he came, and I am alone again, standing near the edge of the kitchen by a side door that has been propped open. The cool air feels great on my skin, so I move outside, onto a large porch, and lean back against the slatted siding of the house. I close my eyes and feel the world spin around me.
"Hey," I hear a voice say.
He is standing outside, leaning on the porch railing. He is also drinking punch from a red cup. I can see his face, partially illuminated by the light from the kitchen. It's the guy from the dance floor.
"Hey," I say.
"Join me?" he says, waving me over to him. He has a cigarette in his hand and he takes a long drag from it.
I stand still for a second, processing his movements. Then I set my cup down on the windowsill and walk over to him. He exhales, blowing smoke out into the night as I move next to him. I lean on the railing, about a foot away. I feel an electric charge between us. He takes another drag on his cigarette, then stubs it out and tosses it into the bushes.
He turns toward me and flashes me a grin. I feel my throat constrict as I look into his eyes. He reaches over and sweeps something off my shoulder, then flicks his hand down my sleeve. I feel his fingertips brush the outside of my hand, slowly. It causes the hair on my arm to stand up and a shiver to run through my torso.
His eyes are dark and luminous in the night. I am suddenly consumed with the desire to kiss him. I reach up and grab his face, bring his lips to mine. I feel his tongue on mine, the roughness of his stubble against my skin as we kiss.
He puts a hand my chest and I feel his fingers twisting in the exposed hair where my shirt is partially open at the collar. He pushes me away, gently, breaking our kiss.
"Dude," he says.
There is lust in his eyes. I stand there, shocked at what I've just done but in complete thrall to the arousal coursing through me.
"Dude, come with me," he says. He grabs my shirt and gives it a tug, indicating that I should follow him. He hops off the porch and walks into the pine trees flanking the house, disappearing into a dark gap between them.
The party is roaring behind me and the booze, and the kiss, are roaring in my head. I jump off the porch and go after him. There is a little path through the trees, I can see now, leading into a large, overgrown yard behind the house. A rickety set of stairs snakes up the rear wall of the house, and I can see him on the stairs, almost to the top, at the third story of the house, looking back to see if I am coming. He gestures for me to follow him up.
Under me, the stairs feel precarious. The wood strains as I climb up, pulling away ominously from the side of the house. I feel removed from any actual danger, though, as if I were watching myself from behind thick glass. At the top of the stairs I enter the house through a cream-colored door. I see him in the middle of a long, narrow hallway, waiting for me. There is an otherworldly red light on everything. The walls are reverberating with the muffled bass beating from the speakers two floors below.
I walk toward him. When I get close, he grabs my shirt and pulls be toward him and we kiss again, I can taste the fruit punch and tobacco smoke in his mouth. I feel my body respond to his instantly, a hot hardness that builds against him, an energy that surges at each contact point. I push him against the wall and grind my hips into him. He spins away from me, grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway, to the very end, where there is a closed door.
He pulls a key from his pocket, turns to me and grins. I see the flash of his teeth and the red light reflected in his eyes as he opens the door. His eyes appear momentarily mismatched, different colors. Translucent membranes flick up from the bottoms of his eyes. There is more light now, a bright, orange-yellow light from the room that hurts my eyes. He reaches for me, grabbing to pull me into the room.
I'm suddenly afraid. I want to turn around and run back down the hallway, out the cream-colored door and down the steps, back to my dorm through the cool night. But a second later I am on him, in his bed, my mouth is on his and the bright light is gone, replaced by a constellation of stars floating around us, and we are rolling in soft darkness.
I feel his hands on my belt, unbuckling it, pulling the buttons of my jeans open. My shirt is off, then his is off, and we are hot, sweaty skin against each other. I feel his fingers in the hair of my chest, he is moaning with pleasure, touching my body. We are kissing, jawing at each other's faces. His stubble is scratching me. His body feels smooth and firm and soft and hot in my hands. Our erections are rubbing against each other through our pants. The muscles in his back flex and relax as we roll over each other in the bed.
He pushes me off of him and guides me off the bed to stand. He yanks my pants down, past my thighs, then off completely. He leans back on the bed, undoes his belt and pulls his pants down, then strips off his underwear and socks. His cock springs up and hits his belly when he pulls off his boxers. Then he stands up, next to me, and reaches into my underwear to grab my cock. The touch of his hand around the base of my cock feels like a liquid-metal fire.
"Big boy..." he whispers, and we are kissing again. He is massaging my cock in his hand and feeling my ass with his other hand. I tip my head up as he kisses down my neck and chest. My hands are on his shoulders, now, as he falls to his knees, pulling my underwear down, inch by inch across the bulge of my thighs, past my knees and ankles. I step out of them, toward him, and then my cock is in his mouth. I melt into the sensation of his mouth on me, the hardness of my erection. His fingers work their way across my ass, pulling me deeper and deeper into him.
The layered sensations begin to overwhelm me. The walls thudding with the music from below, the lights swirling around us, the feeling of his mouth on me. It's too much. I reach down and push his shoulders away, but he only holds me tighter and increases his movements. I grab his hair and pull his head off of my cock. His neck cranes back -- I yanked him harder than I meant to -- and I see a flash of something in his eyes, but then he is smiling again, his beguiling grin.
My cock is pulsing and rigid-hard. He grabs it, moves his face under it and begins a long, slow lick, working his tongue across my balls and up the shaft. His eyes do that thing again, with the membranes. As his tongue moves across my cock, it splits. A shudder runs through me as the two halves of his tongue track up and around my cock, each prong probing, grasping, pulling as though animated by an autonomous intelligence.
I try to push him away but his arms are locked around my body, holding me in an iron grip. He is too strong, too strong for me to escape. As I push at his shoulders and arms, I feel rough, inflexible discs erupt from under the softness of his skin. When his sharp teeth bite into my cock, I scream.
~
I wake up soaking with sweat and twisted up in my sheets. With my heart racing, I reach down to feel my cock. It is hard -- painfully hard -- but it feels intact. I can still feel an echo of the pain from sharp teeth ripping into my flesh, the sensation of blood gushing from me. I take a few deep breaths, and then sit up. A feeling of relief washes over me. It was a dream. Just a dream.
"Dude, what the fuck?" Pete says. He is sitting at his desk. The room is filled with a low, blue glow from his computer screen.
"Pete?" I say. I am still disoriented. "What time is it?"
"It's like 4:30 AM, man. You were moaning and rolling around, you woke me up. I tried to wake you up but, dude, you were, like, totally out of it."
"Sorry," I say. "I was having a super fucked-up dream." I swing my legs out and stand up. I really need some water.
Pete doesn't say anything. I stumble out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. At the urinal, I pull my semi-hard cock from my pajama pants to inspect it. Totally fine.
