Chris Donaldson

This story is about Chris and Justin, roommates and sophomores in college. Chris, only recently out to himself, began the new school year very eager for his first sexual experience. Justin, a dominant frat jock, was happy to provide that first experience, and quickly turned Chris into his live-in sub. Justin has a violent streak, however, which drove Chris briefly into the arms of a nicer guy in his late 20s, Mark, who took Chris' anal virginity, but broke off contact a week later. Chris returned to Justin, and they recommenced their exploration of D/s sex. The shadow of one more man hangs over them - Mason, a senior. He is their RA, and also in the same fraternity as Justin. He has discovered Chris' submissive desires, and has administered two very severe punishments to Chris' bare ass, with hand, strop, and most recently, a cane. This chapter contains some corporal punishment. All characters in this story are over 18.

*****

The bar door banged shut. A tall man in his late 20s with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked in, shaking the drops from his umbrella. A sudden March storm had caught him outside and on foot; rather than braving it for another six blocks to the subway, he had decided to take refuge in the nearest doorway. Which happened to be this dive bar - Ted's. He had moved to the big city after graduating from college five years ago, and had spent a lot of time exploring it, but he had never wandered in here before. It looked like you could pick up an STD from sitting on one of the stools. Oh well. At least the place was open and dry. And empty, too. No, not quite. There was one other guy at the bar, who honestly looked too young to be there. He was handsome, though - shaved head, the confident look of an athlete. College, most likely. He looked like he probably came from money. What was he doing in this shithole? Interesting.

Mark took off his raincoat and draped it over a barstool. He sat down next to it, and made eye contact with the bartender, who was about his own age, stocky, and bear-like, with a withdrawn look.

Probably on something, Mark thought.

Not confident in how a mixed drink might turn out here, he ordered a Laphroaig. Neat.

"Ten year?" asked Jayson.

"Ten is fine."

Mark glanced at the musclehead down the bar while he waited for his drink. The dude was playing with his phone. Too young for you, he thought. You already made that mistake once, a few months ago. Don't do it again.

He turned to his own phone, and idly opened his favorite hookup app. Who was nearby? He wasn't usually in this neighborhood at this time; there might be someone new and interesting.

Nope. No one hot close by. Who were you hoping to find, the stud over there? Mark chuckled to himself.

There was his scotch. He sipped, happy to be warming up out of the rain.

He swiped over to "messages" on the app. None of the guys he had recently chatted with currently piqued his interest either. Viewers. Cruises. Nothing worth his time. Settings. His thumb paused over "blocks". He put the phone down, and took another sip of his scotch. You know you're dying to see his pics again, he thought. But I have to unblock him to see them. So? You've been thinking of him since Valentine's day when he texted your cell. It's ok to look. Mark looked at his list of blocked profiles, then tapped on "newsub2012". Unblock. And there he was. His private pictures were still open. That fucking adorable face with the pretty eyes, topped by short, dark-blond hair; that hot round ass, pale and inviting; and what looked to be a recent pic of the nicely worked out, trim chest, all hairy again . . . Damn. He was indeed too young, but he was one hot sub.

And I took his cherry. Mark grinned, remembering. Should I text him? Why? Don't do it unless you really want to see him again. He took hefty swallow of the Laphroaig.

At the other end of the bar, Justin nursed his third Knob Creek. The ice cube was just a sliver now. He was looking at a text from Chris on his phone. He wasn't sure what to type. He scrolled back up the thread to reread it:

"Hey, Sir."

"Hey, fag."

"Where are you?"

"With my girlfriend, faggot."

"Are you at her place?"

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

"What's the problem? I'll be home later. You'll get what you need, don't worry. No action here tonight, you'll get all of it from these blue balls."

"What's her name?"

"What do you need, boy?"

"You've never told me her name."

"Tell me what you want or fuck off, faggot."

"I need to talk to you in person."

"Fine, I'll be home later."

"I need to talk to you now."

"WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?"

"I got this invitation in the mail. It's to an event at your fraternity."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah. So - we can talk about it when you get back."

"Who's it from?"

"Mason. We can talk about it later. So you didn't know about it?"

"No, I didn't fucking know about it. What event is it?"

"Some get-together on the 10th. It looks official."

Justin continued to stare at the screen. The 10th was a Meet and Greet at SAE for spring rush. What the fuck was that about? Why had Mason invited Chris? Was he asking Chris to rush? There was no way Chris would ever make it in. Mason must know that, he's a fucking officer. What's his deal? Why is he doing this?

"So should I go?" was Chris' last text.

"Don't answer yet."

Justin hammered back the last of his bourbon and considered. I can't figure this out. What was Mason thinking? Did he really want Chris to join? Why? So he can get his jollies paddling him? But he's already done that twice in his own dorm room.

But not recently. Justin's handsome jock face pulled into a smirk. Chrissy gets his spankings from me now. So Mason wants more of Chris' ass? Justin tried to picture his roommate as a brother.

Well . . . it might actually be hot. Don't write it off yet. Let's think about this some more.

"Hey, Jayson." The bartender sauntered over; Mark looked up at the other end of the bar. "One more, bro."

Jayson gave Justin a mildly reproving look, but dutifully went to pour another bourbon. Justin took a gulp, and rubbed his temples. This was all getting very complicated. He poked absently at his phone, thumbing over to his photo album.

A photo of Chris asleep in his bed was first. The boy didn't know Justin had snapped that pic just a few days ago. He's so cute when he's sleeping, Justin thought.

Then a pic of Chris with his mouth full of Justin's dick, always a winning shot . . . pics from his Christmas ski vacation . . . selfies with one of the brothers . . . Chris with a purple, striped ass - yeah, he remembered that day alright . . . more pics of Justin with his bros . . . Chris with cum all over his face. Justin smiled. That had been their first night together. He scrolled further back.

More pics of his freshman year friends, his pledge class, his parents as they dropped him off at college. Further back . . . he hadn't gone back this far in a long time. And he wouldn't be doing it now if he hadn't had too much to drink. Justin braced himself.

Next were some shots of his summer before college, spent in Europe with his dad. Nothing of graduation, he had been too distraught. Further back . . . spring of his senior year. And there . . . he . . . was. Smiling, so cute. But the eyes? Now Justin was sure he saw pain in those eyes, pain he had missed at the time.

"I miss him too, man." Justin looked up, startled. Jayson had walked back over with the drink, and had seen the picture on his phone.

"I know you do. I know you do, man." Justin took a swig of his Knob Creek. "He was a good bud."

"Yup." Jayson looked like he was going to say something else, but Justin pulled out his credit card.

"I ought to get back to the dorm, man. I should study." Fat chance, but it effectively cut off the conversation.

Jayson took his card and gave him the printout. Justin looked at the total, wrote the same number on the tip line, and added them up.

"Have a good night, bro." He offered his fist to Jayson, who grazed it, preoccupied. Justin left the bar.

Mark looked up and ordered another scotch. It was still raining. Should I text him? He started typing.

********************

Chris sat shirtless at his desk in room 119, turning the card over and over in his hands. The card that had surprised him so much, and which had evidently taken his roommate unawares, too. It was signed Mason Evans, and had arrived slipped under his door. Really, Chris thought for the hundredth time, this has to be a joke. It can't just be a mistake, my name is on it in his handwriting, and he signed it. But this is definitely some kind of cruel joke.

His phoned buzzed. Justin must have decided what to do.

The text wasn't from Justin, it was from his hookup app for kinky guys. Chris hadn't been on it in a while. It was probably some old guy who sent unsolicited messages, who wanted him to move to rural Alabama for 24/7 servitude (no fakes!), and who would get all huffy when Chris declined. He opened the message.

Chris' heart skipped a beat. Three beats. It was from Mark. Holy fuck. FINALLY. Chris had despaired of ever again hearing from the only man who whose dick had ever penetrated his anus. He had spent a lot of time pining over Mark, and even though his libidinous mind was once again focused on his jock stud of a roommate, he still felt a pang when looking at the picture of Mark's muscular, hairy chest. Man, he had been so incredibly perfect. I left that condo wanting to marry the guy, Chris remembered.

The message was mundane: "How's it going?"

Chris ran his hands through his hair. Why? Why was Mark resurfacing now, in this particular moment? He thought about waiting a day or two to reply (it would serve the bastard right), but his thumbs typed out, "I'm good" before his brain could stop them. Send.

"Long time."

"Yeah."

And then a pause. Your ball, Chris thought. I'm not doing all the heavy lifting on this one. I tried. And I've moved on, he thought. It was partly true.

"We should get coffee sometime."

You're fucking kidding me. Coffee? You wooed me, fucked my ass, took my virginity, kissed me like you wanted to keep me, I made you a fucking FRITTATA, and you disappeared like my dick does in January. And now you want coffee?

"Sure." I'm such a fucking pushover, Chris thought.

The doorknob rattled. A key fumbled in the lock.

Justin. He'd been with his girlfriend, which meant he was probably drunk. She must have quite a liquor cabinet, Chris thought.

His roommate tumbled in, swearing at the door. He was damp from the rain, and his eyes were unfocused. He stopped in front of Chris.

"Hey, roomie."

"Hey."

"You forgot the Sir, bitch."

"I'm sorry, Sir. Let me take your shoes off."

Justin sat on his bed unsteadily, and let his sub remove his sneakers. He lifted his hips so the boy could take off his jeans, too. He peeled off his jacket and shirt himself, and leaned back against the wall in just his boxers and socks. He closed his eyes, exhausted.

"It's hot in here, boy."

"I know." Chris sat on the bed next to him and rubbed his thigh gently. While kissing was something Justin would clearly never contemplate with a guy, touching, rubbing, and frequent "bro hugging" had all become permissible over the last three months. Their kink exploration had now ventured into restraints, nipple clamps, and spanking; oral worship of Justin's feet, pits, ass and crotch was still demanded daily, or close to it. But Chris had made progress on the other, sweeter front, too. There was a lot more affection now. Not enough for Chris, whose heart had never been so completely fulfilled as when giving his soul to Mark through his kisses. But it was better than it had been before. And now there was no punching or hitting, other than the occasional light warning slap to the face when Chris was being particularly whiny or demanding.

"How was your night?"

"Sucked," Justin replied.

"Maybe you should just dump her."

"Huh? Who?"

Chris was puzzled. "Your girlfriend."

"Oh yeah. Maybe I should. Maybe I will," Justin slurred.

Chris reached over to Justin's dick, and pulled it out of his boxers. Justin pushed his hand away.

"We gotta talk about that fuckin' invitation, boy."

Chris suddenly felt a wave of sympathy. However bizarre Mason's note had been for him, it was probably much weirder for Justin. These guys were his friends, his brothers. The stud's worlds had just collided.

"We can talk about it later, Sir. I'm just gonna say no anyway." Chris leaned over, and took Justin's flaccid, but still impressive, uncut cock in his mouth.

Justin shoved the boy's head away, irritated.

"Not now. I need to think."

"You'll think easier with empty balls," Chris wheedled.

Justin forced a smile. "Not tonight, boy. I'm turning in." And without another word or look at Chris, he lay down and turned his face to the wall.

Chris ran his hands over Justin's broad shoulders and his muscular tapered back, and pressed his face to the jock's neck. Not a kiss, just a . . . facial salutation.

"Don't worry about it, Justin. I'll do whatever I need to, whatever you want me to." He knew that SAE was an extremely homophobic frat, and that Justin's behavior with Chris, even though it was one-sided and basically only involved being orally serviced, might displease the brothers. As close as he wanted to be with Justin, as badly as he wanted their bond to deepen, he would never do anything that would compromise Justin's standing or prestige. Chris padded to the bathroom, then returned and climbed up into his top bunk. Ironic that I'm on top, he thought, and promptly fell asleep.

He woke late. His morning cocksucking duties were not always demanded on Saturdays, and he certainly didn't have to be up at the crack of dawn for them, like he did before Justin's classes. Hearing Justin's regular breathing from below, he decided to check his phone.

Oh shit! He had forgotten all about Mark. There were two more messages on the app.

"When would be good for coffee? Are you around this weekend?"

Then, "Have a good night, kiddo."

Chris wrote back: "Sorry, got talking with my roommate and then I fell asleep." He had never told Mark about Justin. "I could meet you late this afternoon," he typed before he had too much time to think about it. His feelings were now surging and roiling - while he was still hurt that Mark had ignored him for three months, the older guy also represented a potential for emotional satisfaction that Justin, despite his animal charm, couldn't offer.

Not yet, anyway, Chris thought. But look at it strategically. If you rushed his house . . . things might be different. You'd belong, then. You'd have to be discreet, but you'd have a deeper connection with him than anyone else in that frat. Who knows where you might be after two more years? You'd be way more bonded than now, and on so many more levels. And Justin couldn't send you away, because you'd be in his closest circle. Chris had periodic anxiety about what would happen their junior year; it was a given that Justin would go live in his fraternity. With that kind of separation, Chris was afraid he would never see his jock Dom again. Maybe this invitation was really a golden opportunity, and not a joke at all.

His phone buzzed, breaking his reverie. "Sure, how about Uncommon Grounds at 4?"

Suddenly afraid to commit, Chris waited to reply. Was it really a good idea to see this guy again? Now that things are going so much better with Justin? Self-control was not Chris' strong suit, however. He wanted to be loved. He had promised himself last fall not to shy away from finding what he wanted. And, of course, he was always horny, and hated to disappoint people. So he said yes.

"Sounds good. See you then!" he typed.

Justin was having a groggy, hungover morning. He declined Chris' offer of head again, and sat his roommate down to work through this whole awkward fraternity mess.

"I don't know why he did it," Justin said for the tenth time. "And you already know he can be a real dick. I seriously doubt he has some elaborate, wild, kinky plan, though, he's gonna graduate in a few more months. If you got in the house, he wouldn't be around to mess with you. So I don't think that's the point."

"Well then, maybe it's for real. Maybe," and here Chris hesitated, embarrassed; he knew that Justin and the other frat brothers would have much higher standards for masculinity than he did, so he prepared to be dismissed. "Maybe he was impressed by . . . you know, how much I could . . . um, take . . . from him, and he saw something that he thought put me on another level, even though I'm not an athlete."

To his credit, Justin did not guffaw. He smiled with only a hint of condescension, and considered Chris' point seriously. As he thought about the boy's ass getting punished, he started absently stroking his big dick.

"I'm not a total wimp, you know," Chris said, eyeing his roommate's lengthening shaft.

Justin stopped playing with himself. "No, you're not roomie. You take your beating like a man. And you're, you know, masculine enough in the big picture, I guess."

Chris stiffened slightly; he wasn't sure he wanted Justin to evaluate his frat potential in front of him.

"But say you rush. You won't have anything in common with the rest of the brothers. It's all about sports, girls, and money. And that's another thing, it's expensive to join, too."

Chris didn't know how to respond to that; what Justin said was true. He wasn't rich. And he could maybe fake a few introductory conversations, but after that . . . it could get excruciating.

"How many people know you're gay?" Justin fixed Chris with an unusually direct look.

"Ummmm, no one, really," Chris answered, surprised at the question. They had never talked about this before. "Just you."

"Well, I know you like to suck my dick, and I know you're gay for me, roomie, but I was your first one, right? So there's no other track record out there for you to really know what you are, see? So maybe it's, ya know, a circumstantial thing."

Chris blushed. This would not be a good time to talk about Mark fucking him, then. Justin knew there had been no sexual contact with Mason, and was obviously assuming he was the only other guy Chris had gotten naked with. So, yeah, they could pretend it was circumstantial, even though Chris had come out to himself and Pat almost a year ago.

But while we're on the subject, Chris thought, what exactly does that make you, "roomie", if you're not having sex with your girlfriend anymore?

Justin went on. "There's a lot of good guys in the house. I'm tight with them up there. You might turn into a whole new person if you joined, it might really set you up."

Chris wasn't sure how to take that, either. If I'm such a loser, why are you messing around with me every day?

The voice of doubt had an answer: he's letting you suck his cock, Chris. You're not his equal, he's never treated you like one. Yeah, he jacked you off once, but at the end of the day, you're just his submissive. You don't even know how much he actually likes you. So yeah, I guess joining might help your long-term chances with him. If that's what you want.

That was what Chris wanted.

"That sounds really awesome."

"They just can't think you're gay."

Chris nodded. "No problem."

Justin rolled his eyes. "You're too obvious, boy. You can't go around looking at them like you looked at me that first day, like they're all dudes you want to suck off. You gotta be way more discreet, if you do this."

Chris walked over to him, staring carefully at one of Justin's titty posters. Never once looking at his roommate, he knelt, pulled the jock's thick, uncut dick out of his boxers, and started stroking it.