Ryan woke up. He was hungover and dried out. The sun seeped through the blinds. In the bed beside him, Ethan still slept.
Ryan reluctantly pushed off the duvet and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He looked himself over, leaning over the sink to get a close up of himself in the mirror. Had his face changed? Maybe it had filled out a little since high school, but in a good way, he decided. He'd become a man. He looked over the rest of his naked body, posing in the mirror; the rest of his body had filled out too. He had become broader; he admired his smooth flat chest, the bulk of his shoulders, and, turn slightly, the round firmness of his ass. Then, because he couldn't miss it, he watched his long cock thicken and rise to greet him.
He had graduated this year and had a job at a bank as a financial advisor. It felt great to finally have some money in his pocket. He'd bought two new suits for the job and he loved the way they fit him. He liked the way he felt in those suits: young, admired, full of potential. He was ambitious; he wanted more.
He walked into the kitchen, passing the living room, the scene of last night's carnage. Patrick had let him fuck his ass last night, and beyond the physical enjoyment, there had been another feeling, one that he knew he was hooked on and could never let go. It was the same feeling he felt when he wore his suits. It was power.
Ethan woke up and joined him in the kitchen.
"Orange juice?" asked Ryan.
"Yes, please," said Ethan. "I had a little too much fun last night," he said, slapping Ryan's ass as he turned to open the fridge.
Ethan gulped the orange juice. Ryan looked at his friend, head titled back, long slender back arched, cock hanging with a boyish innocence and a heavy potency all at once. Ryan moved up beside him and took Ethan's cock in his hand, feeling it stiffen immediately.
Looking him in the eye, Ryan said, "Move in with me."
Ethan was not expecting this. He didn't speak; it was hard to think as Ryan began slowly stroking his growing cock, never breaking eye contact.
"David moved out a few weeks ago, and I need a roommate. C'mon. It will be fun. You can move out of your parents' house."
"I-you know I have a girlfriend. I don't know. Plus, I don't know if I can afford it. I'm still in school."
"She can move in, too. You can split the rent. It will be fun," said Ryan, still stroking.
"What about the parties? What about this?"
"She knows about 'this' doesn't she?" Ryan asked, now looking down at Ethan's cock for emphasis.
"She knows I like cock, but I've maybe haven't told her everything."
"Will you tell her this?" asked Ryan, getting down on his knees, taking Ethan's long slender cock deep into his mouth, tasting last night's sweat and cum, smelling the hot, dirty urgency, the dank manliness, absorbing the glorious desperate throbbing of another man's desire.
Ethan came quickly, exploding into Ryan's mouth. Ryan swallowed, wiped his mouth, and asked: "Will you tell her this?"
Ethan laughed: "Maybe I will."
After Ethan left, Ryan stood in the doorway of the room that had been David's. They'd come from Duluth together to go to university in Minneapolis. He thought they'd always be together, but David had taken a job in Chicago, and that's how it went, he supposed. For a moment, he thought he saw his friend, as he had seen him so many times before, stretched out on the bed, face down, his ass propped up, inviting.
As he grabbed his own cock, he thought it felt like it felt when he first slid his cock into David's ass: that tight resistance and then he was inside; he thought he heard David cry out with that first painful thrust and then the rattle of the cheap bed frame against the wall; he thought he smelled the familiar smell of hot breath, sweat, and body, that intoxicating perfume that can only be achieved from hard man-on-man fucking.
Ryan came into the empty room.
He walked back to the bathroom to shower, but he found himself gazing at himself in the mirror again. He thought about himself when he first started university. There had been a professor there, a young junior professor, just starting out herself. Meg. She'd taught him Intro to Literature 101, and gently showed him the seductive power of words. She wore evening dresses to teach freshmen about Shakespeare. After he'd handed in a particularly destitute paper, she told him he'd better come to her office. She talked about where he'd gone wrong and he stared looked at the way her necklace dripped in between her wonderful breasts. Sensing his lust, she stood up, came around the desk and stood in front of him, between his legs, resting her ass on the desk. She put his hand on her leg and let him slide it up all the way until he could feel the heat between her legs.
"I used to be like you," she said. "Distracted."
