Connor on Campus

* * * * * The final part to this story, where Stan and Connor reach an understanding, and Stan makes sure everyone, including Darren, gets what they need. * * * * *

Connor wakes with Stan's arm thrown across him and realises someone else is in the room. He focuses and sees Darren sitting on the side of the bed opposite.

He props himself up on his elbow. "What are you doing here?"

"He said to come," says Darren, and Connor glances back at Stan. Stan whose hazel eyes are open now, calmly watching him.

"What are you playing at?" Connor says to Stan.

Stan strokes his back. "Just relax. Everything's okay."

Connor gives him a look of irritation. He starts to move, to get off the bed, but Stan pulls him back.

"Get off!" Connor tries to pull Stan's arm away, but Stan's grip is tight, his forearm solid.

Connor's stunned, and a little alarmed. Stan's never disobeyed him before.

"Stanton, do not push your fucking luck." His voice is cold.

Inside Stan, something sparks at the anger in his lover's voice, wanting to obey. But as much as he craves Connor's dominance, he knows things need to change. He's been steadily coming to the conclusion that this is not who Connor's supposed to be. Connor might think it is, but he's just feeding his darkness, not exorcising it.

Stan rolls Connor back towards him, and Connor loses his composure. There's a brief struggle where Connor throws an arm around Stan's neck to try and force him to let go, but Stan rolls away and is on his knees in seconds and on top of Connor, pinning him flat to the bed with his weight, while the other boy does his best to dislodge him.

"Connor, stop!"

Stan wraps Connor's arms across the other boy's chest and pins them there.

Connor keeps struggling, but Stan's been building himself for months now, and he really is that much stronger than his roommate.

When Connor realises Stan's not letting him up, he goes still, his chest heaving with the exertion of the struggle, flecks of spit on his lips, rage in his eyes. The second Stanton lets him up, Connor's punching him in the face and then he's leaving. And he's not coming back.

But as Stan holds Connor down, his gaze is kind.

"Just be with us," he says to Connor. "That's all we want from you."

Connor rolls his eyes, but Stan ignores him and gestures to Darren with his head.

"Come over here."

The younger boy approaches the bed warily.

"Get on the other side of the bed," says Stan, and Darren climbs over the other two boys and presses himself against the wall.

Connor turns his dark gaze on Darren, and the younger boy shrinks under his anger. But his trust's in Stan now. Stan, who Darren knows won't let anything bad happen to him.

"I'm going to let you go now," Stan says to Connor. "Just stay calm. Okay?"

Connor stares at him for a long moment, and Stan takes that as assent.

He moves his weight off his lover and shifts to the far side of him, so that Connor's stuck between him and Darren. The bed's a king single, so it's intimate.

Stan props himself up on his elbow and places a hand on his lover's chest, feeling the other boy's tension under his hand.

It's silent for a moment, then Connor's jumps as Darren snakes his arm across the older boy's chest and buries his head against Connor's side.

Stan smiles over at Darren. "Look at him." He lifts a hand to comb it through Darren's hair. "He's not going to turn on you. You don't need to cut him down to keep safe."

Connor rolls his eyes again, not willing to admit he's done anything wrong. But the feel of Darren's breath against his side, and the warmth of the younger boy's arm across his chest, is pleasant.

"But if he's yours, you've got to take care of him," Stan says quietly. "What Xavier did to you was unforgivable. But that doesn't mean you have to be the same way."

Connor shakes his head, urging Stan to stop talking. But Stan's not even halfway done.

"I'm yours too," he says gently—then, not without kindness, "And you're

mine

."

Connor's eyes are ink-dark and wary. He doesn't like the sound of possession when it applies to him. It puts him back on a couch between Xavier and his mates, Xavier's 'boy'.

Stan indicates Darren with his head. "And

he's

mine now, too."

Darren glances up at him and grins. He nuzzles against Connor's neck.

This is getting ridiculous. To Connor, it feels like some kind of group hug therapy for the simple.

He shakes his head. "Stanton, what the fuck have you done?"

Stanton moves in to kiss under Connor's jaw. "I'm setting you free."

He runs his hand down Connor's body, and taking his cue from the older boy, Darren moves himself up on his elbows and tries to kiss Connor.

"Yeah, no," says Connor, putting a hand against Darren's face and pushing him back.

His affection rejected, Darren presses himself back against the wall, his eyes full of hurt.

Connor gives Stan a cool look. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but that's not how this works. You belong to me or you fuck off. You've always known that."

Stan puts his hand on Connor's head and turns him to face Darren.

"See that look? Don't do that to him. Don't ever do that to anyone."

Connor shakes his hand off with irritation.

"What do you want from me, Stanton?"

"You," says Stan, his hand moving against the first stirrings of Connor's erection. "You, before Xavier broke you."

Connor tries to get past Stan, but Stan pushes him back against the bed.

"Give it a chance. That's all I'm asking."

Connor's eyes blaze with anger. "I'm going now."

He struggles to get past Stan again, and this time Stan lets him go.

Connor pulls on his clothes and leaves the dorm room, slamming the door behind him.

"That went well," says Darren.

Stan sighs. "I'll try talking to him again later."

Darren snakes his arms around Stan from behind and Stan rolls over to face him, kissing the younger boy on the mouth, feeling himself stir despite the fight that's just taken place.

"Can I stay?" asks Darren.

Stan nods and grins. "Yeah."

They kiss again, and for the moment, Connor's pushed to the back of Stan's mind.

* * * * *

It's eight o' clock on a Saturday, and there's hardly anyone about as Connor walks through the University grounds. A handful of joggers, party-goers making their way home, but otherwise just the frost and a pair of circling crows.

It's cold, and he huddles down in his coat and makes a beeline for the nearest café where, his hands wrapped around a hot latte, he considers what he's going to do about Stanton.

He can change rooms; their shared accommodation was only supposed to be temporary while the University rebuilt one of their accommodation blocks, and they'd only stayed in their shared room because it suited them.

But now... Connor can't face Stanton again.

He knows he shouldn't have told Stan about Xavier. He hadn't meant to, but that night it'd just come falling out of him. It'd been Stan's self-enforced silence. His complete submission that had made Connor feel as if his lover wasn't there at all.

In the dark room, in a waking dream, Connor had sat astride his silent lover and let all the blackness trickle out. Speaking to himself really, touching that pain to see if it still hurt. And though it did, Connor felt darkly satisfied that it was nothing more than a dull ache, like a previously broken bone ached inside its casing of flesh on a cold morning.

And so he'd spoken it all aloud, so lost in his own reverie that at some point he'd forgotten Stan was even in the room.

But now... now Stan sees him differently, and he's exploiting Connor's vulnerability, cutting away Connor's power, using it to create his own.

"Can I sit here?"

A girl cuts into his brooding. Her long blonde hair's tied back into a plait that hits the middle of her back, and she's dressed in jogging gear, clearly been for her morning run.

Connor looks around the café and sees plenty of empty tables. Doesn't understand why this girl's chosen his.

She sees his confusion and explains. "You looked as if you could use someone to talk to."

Connor frowns. Is she hitting on him? He's really not in the mood. There was a time he fucked women, in the year after Xavier left him crying on his bed, but those days are long behind him.

"I'm gay," he says, and the girl laughs as she pushes her table number into the wire holder in the middle of the table and sits.

"I know. You're Connor Gregory. I'm in the year behind you. I'm Isabelle. We have the same vocal coach."

Oh.

The tension drops out of Connor, now that he knows the girl's no threat.

"You're with Stanton, aren't you?" she asks.

Connor gives a non-committal shrug, since 'yes' and 'no' have never been accurate answers to that question.

"He's such a sweetie. I had a major crush on him until I realised he was gay."

Again, Connor says nothing, since he knows this is not strictly true either.

He sips his coffee and eyes the girl in front of him. She's built lean and strong, her breasts pressed flat by a sports bra under her shirt. Her face is pretty, her eyelashes long and dusted with mascara, her waist a soft curve between her ribs and boyish hips.

"So," says Isabelle, giving Connor her full, blue-eyed gaze. "Why are you up so early? Still making your way back from last night's party?"

Connor gives her a mirthless smile. "My dorm room got crowded."

Isabelle's eyes go wide. "Oh, shit. I thought you and Stan..."

"No," says Connor. "Not anymore."

Isabelle's coffee arrives at their table and she takes it with thanks.

They sit in a silence for a short while, sipping their coffees. Then Isabelle finds her voice again.

"I don't want to pry, but did you break up with him, or was it mutual? He just seemed like he really liked you."

He seemed like he really liked you

. Why does that send a cold spear sliding into Connor's gut?

"It's complicated," he says, still thrown by the thought of Stan

liking

him. That isn't how he's ever thought of his roommate. Sure, Stan's said he 'loves' him in the wake of a particularly intense session, but Connor knows better than anyone the mental things that go through a person's mind when the pain stops. He knows it's not real.

Isabelle puts her hand on his, her fingers warm against his skin. "Sorry to hear that. He's such a hunk. But you're hot too. You'll find another boyfriend in no time."

Another

boyfriend

. Connor stands quickly. "I have to go."

"Okay." She's not overly fazed at his abrupt departure. "See you around." She gives him a smile.

Connor heads back to his room, his mind churning with dark thoughts.

When you next meet someone who's too good for you, you'd better fucking learn how to please them, or you'll be alone forever.

Xavier's words that never leave him.

You know Stan's too good for you,

his mind offers.

Well. If he's honest, he knows everyone's too good for him. He's a cunt, has chosen to be one, and likes it that way. When his lovers leave it's because he shows them the door, and boots them hard on the way out.

When he gets back to his room, Stan and Darren have gone. He'd expected them to still be there, waiting for him. But they're not, and the room feels emptier than it's ever felt before.

Connor undresses and climbs into bed, pulling the covers around him.

* * * * *

It's early evening when Stan finally gets back to his dorm room. He turns on the light and finds Connor asleep, his face to the wall.

Stan's spent the day with Darren, chatting and showing the other boy around campus. Finished up with a movie, and shared dinner at a cafe. Darren had wanted to spend the night together, but while Stan's spent the day ignoring the gnawing inside him, he knows he needs to resolve things with Connor before he brings Darren back into the equation.

Now he sits on the side of his bed as Connor stirs and sits up.

"Have you been here all day?" Stan asks.

Connor leans back against his headboard. "Yeah."

"Darren's fun to hang out with," says Stan. "But shit, he loves his movie trivia. Has his own YouTube channel and everything. He's the only person I've met who's more of a film nerd than you."

Connor snorts. "He seems a bit slow to me."

"Are you surprised he acts that way, with the way you treat him?" asks Stan, a blunt accusation. "And despite you being a total prick to him, he really likes you."

Connor takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out again.

"Likes what, exactly? Being my bitch?"

Stan chuckles. "Maybe. Maybe that's what he needs. But you could stand to learn the art of aftercare."

Connor cocks his head. "What about you? You still want to be my bitch?"

"What have I told you?" says Stan.

Connor holds the other boy's gaze as long as he can, but when Stan's calm expression doesn't waver, he looks away. Can't face what he sees there, and hates himself for it.

"Do you want to hear it again?" Stan asks.

When Connor says nothing, Stan climbs onto the bed and kneels in front of his roommate.

"It's not just about sex for me anymore, Connor. It's about you and me. I'm not leaving any time soon. Anyone walks out of this, it's you."

Connor swallows hard. He hates hearing this. Sure as shit doesn't trust it. It's just ways to manipulate him, and he won't be manipulated.

"What do you think will happen if you believe me?" asks Stan. "That I'll turn on you? Make a fool out of you?" He pauses. "Get bored of you?"

Connor twitches and Stan can see that yes, that's it.

There's a laugh in his voice at how ridiculous that is, as he says, "I let you do whatever you want to me. Do you know how much trust it takes to let someone take control of your body like that?"

Connor shakes his head. "You just want to be owned, like all the rest." He looks up at Stan, his eyes glazed wet, his voice loaded with anger. "You need me to own you. That's all this is."

Stan gives him a sad look. "But you

don't

own me. For a while I thought you did, but you don't. And as much as I love what we have, as much as it fills some fucked up need in me, if you don't get a hold of yourself, one day you'll go too far and I'll have to leave. And I know you don't want that."

Connor closes his eyes, reins himself in. "You

need

me."

"No," says Stan. "But I want you. I really fucking want you."

He puts a hand on Connor's knee and the other boy shivers.

"Do you want me to show you?" Stan asks.

Connor gives him a narrow-eyed look. "Show me what?"

Stan pushes Connor's knees apart, as Connor did with him last night.

"Trust yourself to me. Let me do what I want to you. Let me show you what I want from you."

Connor's gut clenches, but there's a part of him needs to know what Stan might do. He thinks back to the night before, to impaling himself on Stan's dick, to driving his lover to the edge then denying him.

If he gives himself up to Stan, he's got no doubt his lover's contempt will show itself, and it'll be so much easier to walk away. Then he can stop torturing himself with the idea he and Stan can be anything more than an owner and his slave.

"Did you fuck Darren today?" Connor asks.

Stan nods.

"And did you hurt him?"

Stan shakes his head. "Of course not. I like him."

Connor considers this. No matter what Stan says, there's no way his lover 'likes' him. Not after everything he's done.

"Use the restraints."

Stan frowns. "Why?"

"You heard me," says Connor, and his voice cuts with command.

Stan shrugs. He fetches the restraints and cuffs Connor's wrists to his headboard, then slips a blindfold over the other boy's eyes.

Connor moves down the bed so that he's lying with his head on his pillow, and Stan undresses then gets back onto the bed.

"You know I can do anything to you that I want right now?" asks Stan.

Connor nods. Oh yes, he knows. It'll all be over soon.

Stan feels the tension in the other boy as he slides Connor's briefs down to his ankles and drops them beside the bed. His roommate's now naked under his hands, restrained and helpless.

Stan runs his hands across Connor's pale body, taking his time. Connor needs to know Stan has all the power, and will abuse none of it.

As Stan mouths and kisses his way down Connor's body, the other boy moves under him, his body rising off the bed, one leg bent, pushing his hips up.

Stan crawls over him and brushes a palm across Connor's flat chest, then rests his hand there, stroking the boy's nipple with his thumb, while he takes Connor's other nipple between his teeth and squeezes gently.

Connor moans softly, his hips rising up to empty air. He wonders what's in Stan's eyes now, now that Connor's at his mercy, horny and writhing on the bed like a little bitch, desperate for a mouth or a hand on his cock. Denied as he's denied Stan so many times before.

And Stan—Stan just wants Connor to know a kind touch. He flicks his lover's nipple with his tongue and grazes it lightly again with his teeth, then moves across and does the same again. It's a symmetry he's learned from fucking women; never leave a nipple neglected.

And likewise, when his hand slides down Connor's body, running down his lover's flank, caressing his narrow hip and then angling in to cup his balls, his touch is the soft touch he uses on cute microbiologists who tell him their secrets in the grey hours of the morning.

In fact, it's all he knows. How Connor fucks him is not what he wants to offer back, and he's not been with any other men but Darren. Neither experience has helped Stan figure out what to do with Connor. And so, he travels down his lover's body with open-mouthed kisses, closing a hand around Connor's shaft as he takes his lover's engorged head into his mouth.

Connor pushes his hips up, fucking himself in languid strokes into Stan's mouth. Despite being restrained, the habit of directing his lovers is impossible to break, and his buttocks clench as he thrusts higher, urging Stan's hand stroking his balls to move further back.

Stan lifts off Connor's cock and kisses its tip. "I'll get there," he says, his voice measured calm. "I just want to take my time."

He closes his mouth back over Connor's stiff prick, and Connor laughs to himself. He's almost forgotten this is revenge. Stan's chance to show Connor he's owned now.

Stan licks and sucks and pleasures Connor in every way the other boy's taught him, and then slides lower down the bed. He lifts Connor's blood-engorged shaft with his hand, and takes the other boy's balls into his mouth, rolling each of them against his tongue. And now, as Connor lifts his arse off the bed, Stan licks as far back as he can, then teases Connor with a wet fingertip.

Horny as fuck now, Connor pushes against that circling fingertip, and can't help moaning for more.

"Okay, but we're going to need lube," Stan says softly, and Connor gets a jolt of electricity in his stomach as the other boy gets off the bed.

Stan's going to fuck him. He's actually going to fuck him. And while Connor fucked himself on Stan's cock the night before, he was in control of that—Stan has no idea what he's doing.

The bed dips, and there's the sound of a bottle cap being flicked open, a sound of air, then liquid expelled, then a whistle of air drawn back inside the bottle, the cap clicked shut.

For a moment Connor lies still in fear. Should he ask Stan to stop? Should he tell his lover to let him go?

Then Stan's finger's back circling, and it's slick with lube, and now, sliding inside.

Connor lets out a sigh of

yes, that's perfect

, as Stan slides his finger in, using long strokes, while his other hand, slick with lube, works Connor's cock.

A mouthful of lube's not a tasty treat for anyone, so it's just his hand now, but Connor's taught Stan well, and he soon has his lover leaking a steady stream of precum.