Meeting Ian

You probably won't agree with what I did. I don't like that I did it but it happened and that's as real as I can be. We all make mistakes and I considered not telling the second half of this chapter but that would be lying. I know that many people will have opinions but know that I still feel awful. Don't judge me too harshly. All the love, Artie.

*****

It was a week of not leaving dorm except for class and even then it was a toss up. I was the king of not going to class before 10:30 even though my classes started at 9:15. It was a week of subsisting on Froot Loops and Cheez-Its mixed together. It's delicious, really the saltiness mixed with the saccharine taste. Still, I didn't usually allow myself artificial foods. I didn't sleep and thus was more productive than I had been in weeks—hell months. Pages flew by me. My school work was done and writing was my only refuge. I threw myself into my work so I wouldn't have to think.

I had turned off my phone, scaring my mother when she couldn't reach me easily. My mother always did have the tendency to hover over me. But I wasn't about to talk to her. She would have picked up on my melancholy and I wasn't going to tell her about Ian, about my idiotic expectations.

I was truly alone for an entire week and though I spent most of freshman year that way, having friends and then feeling alone was devastating. I knew this was self-imposed, but I needed time away from the Lambda guys. I didn't want to see Ian because I didn't know if I would be angry or try to seduce him away and I didn't want to see anyone else either.

I made it all the way to Thursday evening before there was a knock on my door. Drew barged in moments after I opened the door. He shoved me toward the bathroom and demanded, "Shower and get dressed." Fucking fine. I didn't look into the mirror, I knew I would find my eyes sunken and in the midst of deep purple bruises. That wasn't Ian's fault, that was just my own insomnia. My brain just hates letting me sleep, always had. Plus, I was always more creative late at night which led to self-imposed abstaining from sleep.

I dutifully scrubbed myself down and threw on clothing before presenting myself to Drew. I seemed to pass inspection.

"Where's your phone?" He asked.

It was on my desk and off. He didn't need to know that I had shut down Imessage on my laptop and turned off notifications on Facebook. I wanted to wallow in feeling betrayed despite having no reason to. We weren't a couple. I had no right to feel jealous and angry. But I did.

Turning my phone on was a revelation. I had gotten 15 texts from Drew alone, growing less frantic and angrier. Most of my pledge class had reached out to hang or something. I had a few texts from Sean, surprising but flattering. I felt like a dick for not talking to him, in class I had only said a few words. The most surprising were the 7 texts from Ian. I didn't open them.

I held my phone up for Drew, "Got it, now what?"

"Now, we go to the bar."

"I have class tomorrow; it's a Thursday."

Drew laughed off my concerns, "C'mon Thirsty Thursday! Live a little, Artie. So you might be a little hung over tomorrow. At least you'll sleep a drunken blissful night tonight." While sleep sounded good, I'm sure my doctor wouldn't be down for me self-medicating.

"You know I'm twenty right?

Drew ushered me out the door, "Yes. But Emily bartends so it's not like you won't get served."

I shrugged and let him lead me. April in Boston is still fucking confusing. One day it's highs in the 80's and the next it snows. No way to plan an outfit. Nevertheless, we were having one of those highs in the 80's moments and the streets were packed with students, residents, and tourists out for a good time. Drew strode through the crowds easily and I followed in his wake.

The section of Commonwealth Ave. where I live is known for two things: tattoo parlors and bars. They frequently had the same clientele. Drew issued instructions out of the side of his mouth as we approached The Dugout Café, "If another bartender asks to see your ID just motion Emily over. All the bartenders do it for show but they know the deal. The most important thing is that the place makes money."

I had never bothered to get a fake ID. I had nearly 25 brothers of age who were totally willing to buy for me if I wanted but the parties had booze for free. Having a fake in Boston was just asking to get written up. Most big clubs and bars had box scanners that wouldn't be fooled by even the best fake. You had to go to a shitty dive if you wanted a fake to fly.

Literally underground, I stepped into an already lively bar despite the sun still being pretty high in the sky and it being a weekday. It was also the biggest dive bar ever; sports memorabilia was affixed to the walls and the darkness made it tough to see. I wished I could see though, the whole place stunk of stale beer and I could feel the tread of my shoes sticking to the ground.

The bar was dingy and the people there were too, already piss drunk and unapologetic about it. Crowding the bar were rough and tumble men, the kind that I find the most annoying and the ones trying to hit on Emily. I've never been a protective, caveman style guy but seeing Emily, so pretty and petite, having to ward off the advances of huge guys pissed me off. Drew was calm just pushing elbows and man-spreaded knees to the side to make room for me and him. Emily gave a dazzling smile before asking us both for ID.

Dutifully I gave up my ID which clearly proclaimed me to have 8 months before being legal. She made a show of scanning it before thrusting it back with a cheery, "What can I get you?"

"I'll have a rum and coke and Artie will have a vodka Redbull," Drew said confidently. That drink wasn't something I had often. Drew shrugged at my questioning glance, "You want to get drunk? That's the best thing for it. Can't order you a Long Island Iced Tea here but this will do."

I merely shrugged and accepted his wisdom. We had clearly cut in the line for drinks with meatheads looking for pitchers to be refilled. Perks of knowing the bartender. Emily slid me my drink with a sympathetic, "So... how are you doing?"

Jesus. Was I that pathetic? Yes. I had spent a fucking week alone sad that the biggest fucker on campus didn't want to stick with me despite the preponderance of evidence he would definitely be fucking other people.

Taking a large swig of my drink I answered, "I'm doing great."

She smiled sadly, "It's just he needed to be touched. He's weird that way. Never feels complete without it."

Her words confused me and I doubted that they were true. Ian never seemed hungry for attention. He was effortlessly cool and due to that girls swarmed to him.

I nodded slightly and I thought I pulled off totally well adjusted man and Emily gave a bolstering smile before moving to continue serving.

Drew and I sat at the bar stools, each taking uncomfortable swallows. Drew and I weren't very close. He wasn't my big, or my friend but I appreciated him looking out for me as both my brother and the president. I was down for our drinking session but three drinks in Drew cleared his throat.

"Look man, I know Ian can be a dick—"

"Drew," I cut him off, "It's all good. I wasn't expecting anything and I'm not hurt. I just don't want to talk about it."

He looked like I had removed a thousand pounds from his shoulders. Clearly making excuses for his man whore of a best friend wasn't in Drew's wheelhouse. "Wanna get shitfaced?"

I almost laughed and didn't bothering answering instead asking Emily to bring us another round.

Seven rounds in I was feeling good, the Redbull was keeping me up and awake. I didn't feel drunk—I felt alive. Emily had stopped pretending to work and was far busier talking to Drew than getting some 'roided up asshole another pitcher of BudLight. Watching Drew and Emily both lean over the sticky counter top to be close together even as they just talked was sickening—horrifically cute—but still sickening. As Drew brushed his lips over her cheek, I had a pang deep in my stomach. My drunk brain rebelled, that's what I wanted. But my mental state didn't call for sentimentality nor passion nor love nor romance. It wanted to fuck.

A drunken glance around the bar revealed no one that interested me. My rolodex started in my brain of who I could call. I threw away the first thought, no drunk texts to Ian. I scrolled through my phone and alighted on the unread messages from Sean.

Perfect. My hands were all thumbs as I typed out a message reading over it several times to check for coherency before pressing send. Just then Drew nudged me and handed me a tequila shot. The salt and lime did nothing to combat the bitterness of the bottom shelf liquor.

Ashamedly, I had forgotten my text when I felt Sean's fingers tap my shoulder. Inebriated this was divine intervention bringing a hot, willing boy to me in my time of need and not the text I sent: MIssing You. Cum to Dugout?

I'm still ashamed that I decided to spell come: cum. I'm even more ashamed that Sean showed up but at least he knew what he was getting into.

His hair gleamed under the overhead lighting, crowning him in an ethereal halo as I stepped up and hugged him. He didn't seem to flinch at my obvious intoxication and took the shot handed to him with ease.

Drew slid off his barstool looking at me with confusion as my arm slipped around Sean's shoulder. I nodded at him, yes we were going to fuck tonight. Don't cock block. The men of Lambda are excellent at fostering fucking. Drew got the hell out of the way, sliding down to the other end of the bar where he could continue to flirt with and entertain Emily.

For the first time I got a good look at Sean's eyes, they were blurry and bloodshot. He was also clearly celebrating the weekend early. I wondered if he would be going to class at 9:15 the next morning. With a small smirk I wondered if we would still be together and decide to ditch it.

"I'm glad you texted me." Sean yelled above the roar of the crowd. It was almost a reproach. Even drunk I could get the subtext, he wanted to know why I hadn't texted or called him in the month I'd been fucking Ian.

"Sorry Sean, midterm season you know? I've gotta get my grades up if I want to get into a good MFA program." That was bullshit. My grades were immaculate.

He nodded like he knew the struggle. Judging from the essays I helped him edit, he probably did though grad school wasn't in his future.

His hand snuck up my thigh, "I'm really happy you texted me though." His fingers brushed my cock through my pants. Well, I signaled to Emily that I was going to be closing my tab, we were all on the same page. Sean's fingers danced around my cock as he finished his drink and then swooped down to my lips. It was a brief kiss, but hot. I wondered why I hadn't called him.

I paid and grabbed his hand ready to make up for lost time. Sean followed close behind me. With a quick nod to Drew, we escaped out into the night.

I did something I had never done before. I exiled my roommate and it fucking rocked. I had the foresight to shoot him a text before I toted Sean home with me. Sean was making it hard to walk, his lips finding my neck. I wondered what we looked like, the tall incredibly blond boy leaning down to make out with my neck while my arm was snug around him trying to lead him toward my apartment.

There was something about him that was so enticing. He was tall far taller than me, and his body was like a whip cord and his hair made him a seraph. The whole angelic look was pretty ruined by his eyes that found mine and begged to fuck.

We were barely inside the door of my apartment when Sean had my shirt off. His eyes darkened as they took in my body. I flushed feeling slightly embarrassed by the perusal until he tilted my chin up to lay a passionate kiss against my lips. His fingers trailed up my body slowly, wandering around my chest.

His lips tasted like whiskey, smoky and sweet. For not the first time, I wished I was taller. I couldn't tangle my hands as easily in his hair so I went under, my hands finding the corded muscle of his back. I wanted his shirt gone but when he pushed me away from him he batted my hands away from the buttons.

He kissed me briefly, "All I can think about is you blowing me... and me not returning the favor. Time to even the score. He pulled me over to my couch. He found the clasp to my belt and slipped it off me all the while kissing my chest and neck. I was glad my pants were coming off because I was going to burst out of them any moment now.

He unzipped me teasingly, taking forever. He didn't shove my pants down, instead slipping his hand underneath my boxer briefs to find my cock. His hand found the slight stickiness around the head, evidence of my excitement. His fingers curved around my shaft lightly. I tried bucking into his hand to get more friction but he evaded me with a chuckle.

He heard my groan at the light pressure and tickled the end, right below my slit. Fuck it, I would beg if necessary, "C'mon Sean. Please?"

Sean loomed over me and I stretched to kiss him trying to convince him with every slip of my tongue to do anything but keep teasing me.

He broke away smiling and slid to his knees. Slowly he dragged my pants and boxer briefs down letting my cock bounce back up and leave a sticky patch in my happy trail.

He might have been teasing me before but Sean was no longer out to mess with me. His finger trailed up my spread thighs as he pushed me down so that I was sitting with my legs spread wide. My roommate would kill me if he saw what I was doing to his couch. Fuck him, he was a terrible person.

Sean knelt between my thighs his breath hovering over the head of my cock and internally I begged him to do anything. He seemed to hear my plea because he ran the flat of his tongue up the of the side of my dick. Fuck. My eyes fell closed as warmth encased my cock. Sean was a fucking pro. Just like no one would be able to miss that he was gay, no one who was treated to one of his blow jobs would think he was in any way new to this. His tongue tickled up the underside of my cock and I could feel my balls getting heavier.

His mouth was pure beautiful heat and suction as he sucked lightly then with more vigor, thrusting my shaft deep into his throat. I could feel my orgasm building and I reached my hands up to my nipples twisting them and flicking them.

My balls started to draw up and Sean jumped into action. I whimpered when the suction went away. Sean pushed my legs further apart and up toward my shoulders exposing my hole and dove in. His hand curled around my shaft using his spit and my pre-cum as lube to stroke quickly. I was in a sea of sensation. His clever tongue circled the sensitive nerves and slowly breached inside.

I gasped and instinctively my hands came to rest in his hair. The primal side of my brain wanted to push him deeper to take the pleasure being offered. I held back because of his enthusiasm to drive me wild. Quickly he was fucking me with his mouth and I was moments from shooting.

"God. Fuck. Sean fuck me now please." I could barely cobble together words.

Sean pulled away, his eyes pure black. "Lube?"

"Bedroom." I leapt up dashing ahead to get the lube as Sean stalked after me slowly. I had the small tube out of my bedside table when Sean wasn't even to my doorway yet. I could have felt embarrassed that I was naked when he was fully clothed but I didn't. I couldn't when his eyes devoured me. He stared deep into my soul as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it on the ground beside him. Sean could have stripped for a living, all that was missing was some music but I would have paid him to move faster. He didn't need to turn me on more. I was already going to burst if he didn't get in me.

He unsnapped his tight jeans and murmured, "Touch yourself. Get yourself ready for me."

For fucks sake, when did he get so dominating. Not that I was complaining in the least as I squeezed out some lube on my fingers and started to tease my own hole. My cheeks burned as he watched me. As his jeans hit the floor, I pushed one finger in, slowly stretching myself out wishing it was him. His cock looked bigger than I had remembered. The tent pushed out obscenely in his flamboyantly colored briefs. I caught the name across the waistband: Andrew Christian. Bougie bitch.

He waited until I was fucking myself with two fingers, twisting and stretching myself open for him before his underwear touched the ground. He still didn't approach the bed, twisting his fist around his cock.

He bent slightly to retrieve a foil packet from his pants. Ripping it open with his teeth, I went into hyper drive. I was through with the preliminaries. I needed him: now.

I flipped over onto my hands and knees and arched my back. I knew what a wanton, slutty picture I made. I heard his slight gasp and then him approaching. The bed jostled slightly but he settled into the cleft of my ass. His pulsing hardness burned against my ass and I arched even more proving myself ready for him.

Sean reached over and grabbed the lube spreading a little over his cockhead before grabbing hold of my hips. I could feel him poised at my entrance, there was a moment of him rubbing his cock over that bundle of nerves on the outside before he began pressing in. He didn't stop. In one long sinuous glide he seated himself fully in me. A low keening whine burst from my chest as he spread me open.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to compare their dicks. But my mind couldn't help it. One was thicker, the other longer. Sean drawing out and then easing back in brought me out of those thoughts. Sean leaned forward fractionally and then thrust in hard. A wild "oof" sprang out of me unbidden as his cock hit my spot perfectly.

"There you are." Sean whispered as he started a brutal pace that had me biting down on a pillow to keep from yelling out my ecstasy so loudly that my neighbors would complain.

My hand came down to my cock, jerking myself wildly. I was on the precipice of pleasure and pain. Sean's hips shot forward and then dragged out slowly, running over every nerve.

"Come for me Artie. Come now."

I couldn't resist him. I had been on edge for what felt like hours. I shot my load into my hand as Sean let out a masculine groan. He didn't immediately pull out, just rolling us to the side so that we spooned. I could feel the sweat from his chest on my back. I merely curled up deeper into his embrace.

I woke up to rustling, "Whazz happenin'?"

The room was dark and the fuzziness in my head could have been due to an impending hangover or the sleep that I had blissfully been in. I could barely make out the figure but the slight throb of my hole reminded me.

Sean spoke quietly, "I've gotta go. Early class tomorrow—well, today."

"I know. We're both in it."

"Nah, I've got an 8 am."

I leaned up on my elbows, "Okay." Sean seemed to think I was distressed by him leaving. He leaned down and kissed me softly, which was nice, but I wasn't after him staying. I just thought it was pretty reckless to drink a load before having an 8 am. But then again I wasn't about to chastise him for his choices. "Want to come to a party with me tonight?" The question sprung out of nowhere and I was slightly irritated with myself.

I breathed out a sigh of relief when he said, "I've got to work tonight, sorry." I waved away his apology and watched as he went.

I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, that I wanted more than sex. He seemed on board and if I was being really honest with myself the sex was really good.

I fell back asleep reveling in the feeling of being well fucked and having my entire bed to myself again. I might have not been the most romantic but the twin xl beds that college students sleep on are not designed for sleep overs.