Pool party

By BRK  Patreon Contact Page Twitter
2 parts
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• Latest update: 9 November. Next update: 23 November. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest post: Saturday Flashback: No Shirts, No Problem.

• Latest from BRK: “Pool party”, Parts 1‑2.

Part 1

Gavin pushed through the heavy oak door of his dorm suite and had already sloughed himself out of his puffy, snow-dappled winter coat, scarf, and bookbag before the door had closed itself behind him. He tossed the whole assembly onto the scratchy, olive-green armchair by the door no one ever sat in and, completely ignoring the beautiful night-time snow-swirled tenth-floor vista offered by the expansive picture window that dominated the north wall, proceeded across the room to drop like a dead body into the massive, deep white-naugahyde monstrosity they called a couch. It was big enough to fit all three of them easy, perfect for long nights gaming or making fun of stupid teen werewolf shows, and even the matching love seat set catty-corner to it from which Marcos was watching him with an expression of vast amusement had enough real estate to curl up and drift off to sleep where you were a little too homework-zonked (or drunk or stoned) to bother going to bed.

“Trouble on the moors, Gav?” Marcos teased, pausing whatever video he had going on his laptop and pulling out an ear bud. His lip was quirked, and his dark brown eyes were glinting. “Tess of the d’Urbervilles giving you shit?”

Gavin lolled his head back on the cushions and made a noise in the back of his throat. “As a matter of fact, yes,” he returned honestly. Hardy was his least favorite writer, and this paper had felt like a wrestling match with the frequently abstruse poet-novelist. He needed a night of relaxation and brain disconnection.

He rolled his head to the side, allowing himself to take in the roommate he’d had a crush on since his longtime best friend Corbin had first introduced his short, very fit fellow physics major as a potential third suite partner for their senior year in one of the highly sought triples over in Goose Tower (named, of course, for the mysterious benefactor Herbert L. X. Goose, about whom naught was known but his name).

Gavin liked looking at Marcos—especially since he’d gotten those steel-rimmed glasses, which did something funny to Gavin’s insides—but he enjoyed the playful teasing the three of them tended to fall to almost as much. “And I’d rather write about moors and secret assignations and the approbation of the Ton than try to figure out quantum mechanics or notional particles or whatever,” he added, barely suppressing his own smile.

Marcos rolled his eyes. “That’s not even a thing,” he sighed indulgently.

Gavin let himself admire him a little longer. Those steel-gray rims seemed to complement the faint brush of dark stubble along Marcos’s long jawline even more than the snug black henley Marcos had on at the moment, and Gavin knew if he kept looking he’d drift down further from his handsome, slightly boyish face, past his jawline and down onto that long, caramel neck that seemed to call out to Gavin’s lips and tongue. He closed his eyes, trying to refocus. He knew Marcos was straight, but Gavin had a sense that Marcos was aware his gangly, fair-haired and freckle-cheeked English-major roommate was trying not to moon over him too obviously. “Cow eyes belong on the cows,” he could hear his gran saying with fond admonishment. He drew in a breath and was about to suggest ordering a really big pizza, to be accompanied by as much beer as they had on hand, when the door burst open and Corbin bustled in with someone Gavin didn’t recognize. The music he’d passed in the hallway from the girls in the next suite over—what was that, Adele?—briefly drifted into the room before the door quietly shot and snicked itself closed.

“Hey guys,” Corbin said cheerily, quickly divesting himself of his no-name winter coat and, unlike Gavin, hanging it properly on the pegs by the door. The stranger was doing the same, oblivious to Gavin’s frown, and before long Corbin was hanging up his heavy, stylish pea jacket on the peg next to his own coat.

Corbin was even straighter than Marcos—Corbin being a serial hookup artist who mocked Marcos’s search for Miss Right—so this guy must be a friend or classmate. Yet another physics major? Between Corbin and Marcos they already had Gavin outnumbered. Gavin looked the stranger over curiously. He had shaggy, dirty-blond hair and seemed handsome in a very ordinary way, like someone had been adding hotness points to his zygote and had decided to stop at “inconspicuously hot” instead of going all the way to “just thinking about him makes girls wet and gives guys a raging boner”. Despite the cool in the large room, now he was freed the newcomer was wearing only a loose black tee shirt that hinted at a fit but unremarkable body underneath, heavy dark khakis covering his longish legs, and old knock-around sneakers.

Next to Corbin, who looked like a rugby player and even dressed the part, now as always kitted out in a heavy striped rugby shirt (this one was rust and gold, very flattering against his pake skin and dark hair), old, worn jeans, and some serious-looking black athletic shoes, the blond stranger looked tall and lean, though he wasn’t as skinny as Gavin, and while he came across as friendly there was clearly more to him than met the eye.

It wasn’t that odd for any of them to have friends over, of course, but Gavin was kind of tired after fighting with Thomas Hardy all day, and he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for the kind of on-guard socializing that having strangers around required. He was about to ask Corbin who this guy was when suddenly the new guy met his gaze and something in Gavin’s head settled abruptly into place.

“Hey, Gav,” said their other roommate, Rhys, with a toothy smile, raising a hand. The bracelet he wore on that wrist, half narrow black suede strap and half silver-plated chain, slid down a few inches as he raised the hand, calling attention to his long, lightly hairy forearm muscles.

“Hey, Rhys,” Gavin said. His brows drawn slightly together he added, “Weird, for a minute there I didn’t—” He shook his head, relaxing back into the couch. He focused on Rhys’s eyes like he often did, noting that warm, medium brown that was almost an orange, and wondered for the umpteenth time how many people in the world could possibly have eyes like that. Probably one, he decided. One out of all the billions on earth.

“I’ve been having that kind of a day,” Rhys answered amiably. He said it like people had brain stutters around him all the time. Maybe, if they were looking at his orange-brown eyes. Rhys turned and gave the same look, smile, and wave to Marcos. “Hey, Marcos,” he said.

Marcos blinked at him once. “Hey… Rhys,” Marcos said slowly after a second, like his brain had paused and then released. Then he gave their roommy a friendly smile. “You’re just in time to hear all about Gavin’s term paper on Victorian symbolism.”

Corbin was already dropping into the couch on Gavin’s left, on the far side from the love seat, and was thunking his shoes, slushy treads and all, up on the low, wide coffee table in front of him. This left Rhys to come around and sink into the love seat next to Marcos. Gavin felt unaccountably annoyed that Rhys, who, unlike he other roommates, was definitely at least bi if not a full-blown cocksucker like himself (not that Gavin remembered having seen Rhys doing anything about it), had taken the seat next to Marcos, and was glad that the oversized naugahyde mini-sofa was wide enough to leave some space between them. “I wouldn’t dare subject you to such misery,” Gavin grumbled.

“Or I could tell you all about the review modules for my final next week on quantum cryptography,” Marcos offered, turning his attention to his laptop again.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Corbin said. “By the way, I already ordered pizza,” he added, pulling out his phone and waving it in demonstration of his pizza-gathering capabilities before plugging it into the charge on the end table between the couch and love seat.

“Thank god,” Marcos and Gavin said together, and Rhys and Corbin laughed.

“Sounds like we need a break,” Rhys observed genially, and they all made noises of assent. Rhys always wanted to do things, or make games of things, and usually his schemes turned out to be more fun than expected, so they tended to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Hey, I know,” he went on. “We can have a pool party!”

Gavin looked at him. He then pointedly turned and glanced toward the large window and the winter gusty snowscape beyond. Then he turned back to Rhys with a raised eyebrow.

Rhys grinned. “No, not that kind of pool party,” he said. “A gene pool party.”

“Biology majors,” Marcos snickered. He was clicking at something on his laptop—probably obsessively checking his email as usual, Gavin thought. He tried not to watch his long fingers as they moved across the keyboard.

“So what exactly is a gene pool party?” Gavin asked indulgently. “We go back in time and frolic in the primordial soup?”

“Or… I know!” Corbin said, laughing. “We get into a submarine and shrink down really, really tiny and weave through our own DNA sequences.”

“Naw, it’s just a game,” Rhys said with an easy smile. Those slight dimples he had showed when he smiled like that, and it immediately occurred to him how nice dimples would look on Marcos. Maybe messing around in the gene pool could be fun at that.

Corbin, the most competitive out of all of them, perked up, interested. “How does it work?” he asked.

“Simple,” Rhys said, leaning forward as if to focus their attention on what he said next. “We go around in a circle and make a sentence that describes a genetic inheritance. You know, something fun, or silly. We’re just goofing around, after all. The first person”—he pointed at himself—”says something about himself. The second person”—now he pointed at Marcos—”gives a likelihood, like ‘almost always’, ‘seldom’, and so on. The third person”—he indicated Gavin—”gives some kind of genetic trait, like eye color, build, something like that. Since we have a fourth person,” he added, nodding at Corbin, “that person can put some kind of twist on it, just to spice it up, like a condition or an escalation.”

“I like the sound of that,” Gavin’s jockiest roomie put in with a smirk.

“Then we come back around to the first person, who either approves it and locks it in, or sends it back the other way,” Rhys concluded.

“And once it’s approved?” Marcos asked, still not looking up from his emails, though he was clearly paying attention—Marcos was fantastic at multitasking.

Rhys shrugged. “It’s locked in,” he said. “Becomes part of the gene pool.”

“What, for all of human history?” Gavin said, grinning. He was still thinking about the primordial soup Marcos had mentioned. “So say Corbin gets it so dark-haired, square-shouldered horndogs can fuck two girls at once. Lock that in, and it’s true for the whole human race?”

Corbin’s eyebrows shot up, but he was already grinning at the idea. “Sounds good to me,” he said. predictably.

Rhys shrugged. “We can start it at twenty-five years back,” he said, looking around at the others, as if he’d guessed their ages to ascertain a cohort that would include them.

“And only students here at CKU,” Marcos tacked on decisively, closing his laptop and setting it aside under the end table.

Rhys nodded, agreeing. “And only students here at the University,” he repeated, eyes shining like he could guess how all this was going to go. “I’ll get you guys started, and then you can go on without me,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Marcos said, looking at him curiously.

“You’ll see,” Rhys said cryptically.

Gavin’s stomach rumbled. He wondered when the pizzas would get here. “Okay, you start,” Gavin said to Rhys, jumping up to get a quick round of beers for them all from the fridge. Partly he wanted Rhys to show them how it worked, but he also wanted to forestall Corbin acting immediately on the whole double-fucking thing. It occurred to him that, by going mentioning a sex-related fantasy right at the gate, he might have skewed, or primed, the direction the game would take.

Except, knowing these guys, they weren’t going to stay out of the gutter very long anyway. Corbin was a dog when it came to sex, and Marcos had once told them a story about how he’d “romanced” a girl over the course of a long, sultry night in his parent’s cabin in a way that was so sensuous and evocative that even Gavin had gotten hard, despite the extremely and explicitly heterosexual nature of the events he was describing. Rhys he wasn’t sure about, but he suspected the seemingly mild-mannered engineer might be randier than any of them, and more romantic at the same time.

“Fair enough,” Rhys said, sitting back and running a hand through his messy, brownish-blond hair as Gavin disappeared briefly into the adjoining kitchen. “Let’s see. We can start with majors, make a theme, right? So:” He pointed at himself. “‘Bioengineering majors…’” he began, then looked encouragingly at Marcos.

“Oh, right,” Marcos said. “Um, ‘…are… not very likely…?’,” he tried, looking to Rhys, who nodded.

Then Marcos looked at Gavin with a cocky smile as he was coming back in holding four beers by the necks, and he realized for the first time that he’d have to actually come up with the silly genetic change. Fuck, he should have gotten Marcos to go first. He distributed the cold, green bottles and resumed his seat on the couch. “Um,” he said, stalling as he opened his bottle and took a fast swig. He racked his brain for inherited traits as he lowered the bottle and swallowed, and ended up blurting out the only one he could think of. “Roll their tongues!” he said. Then he remembered he was continuing a sentence and snorted, shaking his head. How did Rhys always talk them into stuff like this? He felt like he was drunk already, a not uncommon sensation around Rhys. “Uh, ‘…to be able to roll their tongues…’,” he amended carefully, then looked at Corbin.

Corbin grinned wickedly, turning to Rhys. “‘…unless they’re really turned on!’” he concluded. Sure enough—nothing but sex. This was going to degenerate pretty fast, Gavin thought.

Rhys laughed and said, “I approve!”

Corbin wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Yeah? You, uh, really turned on right now, Rhys?” he taunted amiably. “Sitting here with three hot guys?”

For an answer Rhys stuck out his tongue… which was rolled into almost a complete circle. The others laughed, and Gavin felt a little flush at the seeming confirmation that Rhys, at least, was on his team, though it made him want to force him to switch seats so he wouldn’t be next to Marcos. He took another gulp of the bitter IPA they’d been buying lately. Rhys still had his tongue out and was rolling it an unrolling it playfully, and it occurred to Gavin to wonder what it would be like to kiss a guy with a talented tongue like that. Though as he pictured the kiss it quickly became Marcos’s face that drew close to his, and Marcos’s tongue that was exploring its capabilities deep inside Gavin’s mouth. He caught Rhys’s eye, and Rhys winked conspiratorially at him, causing Gavin to duck his head to hide a blush.

“Put that away,” Marcos scolded him, pretending to be disgusted. He pushed at Rhys’s shoulder, and Rhys laughed and pulled his tongue back. He seemed excited to see what would happen next, and looked at Marcos with a hint of anticipation in his orange-brown eyes.

“Okay, my turn, right?” Marcos said, adjusting his glasses. He turned slightly toward Gavin, ready to start the next round robin. “So, if we’re doing majors, I guess mine is, ‘Physics majors…’” He glanced quickly at Corbin, who was already waiting with visible excitement, and huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be too crazy bro,” he begged. “We both got to live with it!”

Gavin almost said, “It’s just a game,” but it wasn’t worth saying. It was a lot more fun thinking that it would “lock in” and come true, anyway. Plus he kind of hoped Corbin would make the trait something that would change things between him and Marcos, somehow. That was probably why he made his continuation, “‘…always…’” before looking quickly over at Corbin, trying not to seem hopeful. Marcos bit his (nicely plump) lip, following Gavin’s gaze.

Corbin’s hazel eyes were twinkling. “‘…are really hot with two big dicks and big honkin’ balls, so they can be sucked by two girls at once!’” he said immediately, tossing them all a shit-eating grin.

“I knew it,” Gavin sighed, though the thought of Corbin with two big dicks was quickly crowded out by an image of Marcos, doubly hung and hard, that hit him like a thunderbolt. Gavin leaned his head back into the deep cushion behind him and stared up at the ceiling, trying earnestly to clear his mental canvas before he got a raging, unhide-able hard-on in front of everyone.

Marcos, meanwhile, was staring at Corbin wide-eyed. “Dude!” he said, sounding shocked not so much at the idea so much as that his friend would spread his raunchy fantasies onto him, too. He turned to Rhys with pleading eyes, but Rhys was looking at Gavin, and his smile was mischievous. “‘…or two guys!’” he concluded.

Marcos stared at him for a second, then barked out a laugh. “Fine, as long as it doesn’t have to be two people every time,” he said. When Corbin looked at him in surprise he added, “For some of us that might be difficult to arrange!” They all laughed, but Gavin was hearing that non-gender-specific word, “people”. Dare he hope, even a little? Fuck, what a dumbfuck he was, Gavin thought morosely.

The now not-so-subtly handsomer Corbin was already adjusting the crotch of his old, worn-thin jeans, which clearly showed the outlines of his two generously-sized sausages. Of course Corbin would go straight (so to speak) for the carnal jugular. The man in question spread his legs a little, whether to show off or make room, Gavin wasn’t sure, and crowed, “Maybe for you!” Gavin was pretty sure Corbin was only half-pretending to be that crass, but betting against Corbin’s willingness to wallow in sex was a fool’s gambit.

Corbin’s manspread had already caused a part of Gavin’s brain to realize that there was an equally double-stuffed crotch only inches to his left, sending heat the Gavin’s cheeks he couldn’t control. Marcos’s dark skinny jeans would probably only show a largish bulge, but he would not let himself confirm one way or another. He forced himself not to look and kept his eyes pointed at the stippled stucco overhead. Not yet. He’d sneak a glance soon, just casually, the next time he looked that way.

Marcos sighed, shaking his head. “You and your dumb hormones, man,” Marcos groused. Thrillingly, he adjusted himself slightly. Gavin kept looking straight ahead, but he couldn’t fail to register the gesture in his peripheral vision. Fuck, he was going to be hard soon. He stared at the ceiling a little harder. Marcos was sexier now, not that he had had very far to go to get to “really hot” (if he hadn’t been there already), but the idea of his sweet, beautiful, wily Marcos with two hefty pricks…

“Me and my dumb hormones,” Corbin agreed proudly.

Marcos looked at Gavin, but Gavin still wasn’t looking anywhere but up. “Uh, your turn, dude,” Marcos said, taking a sip of his beer. Corbin and Rhys did the same.

Oh. Shit. “Uh, okay,” Gavin said, bringing his head down and trying to act normal, though his cheeks still felt warm and a wash of cock-awareness was sloshing through him, unlikely to abate anytime soon. He glanced rapidly at Marcos and drew another breath. “Well, okay. To, uh, continue a theme: ‘English Lit majors…’” he said, then turned the other way and gave Corbin a sharp, accusing look and added, “And you guys better not make it ‘never get laid’!”

“‘…never…’” Corbin said immediately, beaming. They both turned to look at Rhys, Gavin’s glower matching Corbin’s grin.

Rhys had a crafty look on his face, like he knew just what to do with Corbin’s “never”. Gavin felt a prickle in his pits under his loose, solid blue polo shirt—for Pete’s sake, was he sweating? Finally Rhys looked right at Gavin and said, “‘…grow up to be anything but fit and sexy…’!”

Gavin gaped at him. Rhys looked very pleased with himself, watching Gavin closely for his reaction. After a few seconds he tilted his head for Marcos’s twist. Marcos wiggled his eyebrows and said, “‘…with a body like Michelangelo’s David’.” Gavin thought he was done, but then he added, “‘…only hung’!”

Corbin snorted a laugh. “I’d pay to see that,” he said, punching Gavin in his very un-David-like arm.

“C’mon, you gotta approve,” Marcos urged him with a grin.

Gavin couldn’t quite process the idea. “That’s… that’s not…” he stammered. “What about English major bodybuilders? You’d be taking muscle away from them!”

Marcos gave out a laugh. “Fine,” he said. “‘…with a body at least as muscled and defined as Michelangelo’s David… only way hung’. Happy?” he added teasingly.

“Accept! Accept!” Corbin chanted, and Rhys and Marcos joined in. “Accept! Accept!” they repeated.

“All right, all right!” Gavin broke in. “I accept!”

Part 2

Gavin took a long pull from his beer, unexpectedly finishing it, while the others cheered. He stood up to get more from the fridge, climbing over Corbin’s long, thick legs (his feet were still up on the coffee table) and trying not to look at the visible evidence of just how much cock he was packing—how much, and how many. He had a bulge like that too now, he knew, only his was from the “way hung” part of Marcos’s twist.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Corbin said, grabbing Gavin’s newly muscular forearm with one hand and draining his own bottle with the other. “Me too,” he said, handing him the bottle. On cue the others downed theirs as well, and he sighed dramatically and collected the other two empties with his other hand to take back to the recycling bin in the kitchen. A moment later he returned with new brews, distributing three of them to his roomies; but before he could climb back over Corbin’s legs to sit down with his own, Corbin held up his free hand. “Wait,” he said again.

“What?” Gavin said, frowning in confusion.

Corbin’s eyes were glinting. “C’mon,” he said. “You have to show us!”

The hell? For a second Gavin thought Corbin meant he wanted Gavin to whip out his fat and heavy new dick, but Corbin was eyeing what was now Gavin’s literally classically proportioned torso, which bulged and strained against his formerly loose torso.

“Yeah, take it off!” Marcos said unexpectedly. “It’s mean to make your poor shirt stretch over your lats like that anyway!”

Astonished, Gavin turned to Rhys, but he was no help—he wasn’t saying anything, but his laughing grin and dancing eyes might as well have been shouting his agreement.

Gavin’s cheeks burned. He didn’t know anything about having a chiseled, generously carved body like this… except that it kind of felt weird to be wearing a shirt over it. He glared at Corbin and Marcos, trying not to think about whether it meant anything that Marcos wanted to see him with his shirt off, and set down his beer next to Corbin’s crossed ankles with a clunk.

Usually, Gavin took off his shirts by grabbing at the waist on both sides and just yanking upwards, but it occurred to him just as he was reaching for the hems that guys who were built like he was now seemed like they always took off their shirts by grabbing behind the neck and pulling the shirt off over their heads. That was how he should do it, right? Without waiting to think about it more he reached back, grabbed a fistfull of shirt, and hauled the polo off with one smooth, fluid movement. The others immediately erupted in applause, and Gavin stood there with his shirt in hand, accepting the compliment in a little bit of a daze. They were all three looking at him like he was sexy as fuck, and… Gavin found he didn’t totally mind this kind of attention after all.

Just then the doorbell rang. “Perfect timing,” Corbin said. “Oh, Mr. Beefcake, sir, while you’re up…!”

Gavin gave him both fingers, and the others laughed. He turned and went over to the door, feeling just slightly disoriented. Mr. Beefcake was not something he was used to being called, let alone accurately.

Opening the door Gavin was taken aback to see what was apparently the “hot pizza dude” porn trope evidently playing out in real life for the first time ever in Gavin’s experience: standing there in the hallway with the neighboring suite’s incessant music washing over him (Amy Winehouse? Really?), hefting a full-looking pizza sleeve like he could do it all day, was a six-and-a-half-foot African-American stud with a beautiful, high-cheekboned face, piercing eyes, and a serious amount of muscle visible even through his thin super-insulated winter coat. To Gavin he looked like he should be on a daytime soap where, no doubt, he would spend most of his time climbing into and out of hot tubs.

Not only that, but the coat stopped at his waist, allowing Gavin to take note of the heavy double-bulge clearly outlined in Pizza Stud’s high-end sweats.

Glancing up and meeting his eyes, Gavin guessed, “Physics major?”

Pizza Stud grinned wide. “How’d you know?” he said as he reached into the sleeve, pulling two reinforced pizza boxes free. Gavin took them from him, and Pizza Stud glanced past him into the common room of their suite. “Oh, hey, Corbin, Marcos,” he said.

“Billy!” Corbin said. “I didn’t know you were doing this stuff.”

Billy the Pizza Stud shrugged. “It’s new,” he said.

Only since you got cut from The Young and the Restless, Gavin thought. He reached for his wallet with the hand that wasn’t cradling two pizza boxes, but Billy said, “Naw, it’s good. You tipped on the app, and then some.”

“Oh, okay,” Gavin said, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket.

Billy was considering him shrewdly. “And… English Lit, I’ll bet, right?”

Gavin blinked at him. “Uh, yeah,” he admitted. “How—?”

“C’mon, I have the CKU Mr. English calendar,” Billy scoffed. He looked Gavin’s torso up and down. “Plus, from what I’ve seen so far, you guys never wear shirts in your dorm rooms.”

Gavin grinned nervously. “You should see our senior seminars,” he joked.

Billy winked. “Keep talking dirty to me,” he said huskily, and Gavin’s upgraded cock throbbed halfway to hardness in a nanosecond.

“Billy, come join us,” Marcos called.

“Yeah, have a slice and a beer,” Corbin agreed. “Can you go off shift yet?”

Billy checked the time on his phone. “Actually, I’m off shift in ten minutes,” he said. “Lemme text that I’m on my last call.”

While Billy worked his phone, moving into the suite and closing out the hallway chill (and Amy with it), Gavin returned to the couch area and set the pizzas down on the coffee table, popping into the kitchen for plates and napkins and a few more bottles to have them out ready to go as people needed them. By the time he returned Billy had shucked his coat, revealing a skin-tight sleeveless muscle tee (for reals? In December?!) and had already ensconced himself into the empty spot on the love seat next to Marcos, who was explaining the gene pool game they were playing. Billy looked intrigued and ready to join them, and not just for the game.

Then Gavin froze halfway between the kitchen and the couch area, his brows knitting slowly. Hadn’t there been someone sitting there? It had been him, Corbin, Marcos, and…

All efforts to puzzle out this conundrum derailed, however, as Billy casually threw his arm over the back of the love seat—directly behind Marcos. An instant surge of jealousy Gavin washed through him, followed, confusingly, by a dick-pumping awareness of just how hot his incredibly hot crush and the bonerific fantasy dude sitting next to him looked together

Then his brain added, All you need is Corbin in there with them, and Gavin felt like he was short-circuiting. When his vision refocused, all three of them were looking at him. “Gav, dude, you okay?” Marcos said.

Gavin licked his lips. “Yeah. Sure.” He climbed over Corbin’s legs again and set down his burdens. As he resumed his seat he felt surrounded by masculine hotness, not unaware that some of it was coming from Gavin himself. “Cor, it’s your turn,” he said, opening a new beer and taking a long pull before grabbing two slices from the top pie—pepperoni, he saw approvingly—onto his plate.

“Oh, yeah, cool,” Corbin said. He followed Gavin’s lead, taking two slices onto a plate, and the others did the same. Once they were all ready, he grinned wickedly at Gavin. “Okay, so,” he said, “‘Physics majors…’”

Gavin shook his head. “Please don’t be dicks,” he said. Billy snorted a laugh, and Gavin added sardonically, “So to speak.”

Billy laughed again and took a bite of pizza. “So this is where I say ‘…always…’?” he asked Marcos. Once again, at the sight of the two of them interacting Gavin felt a confusing rush of jealously mixed with arousal at how hot they were. He kind of wanted them to kiss. He tried to silence his messy emotional responses with a wad of delicious, cheesy pizza goodness. Damn where had Corbin ordered from? The pizza was almost as yummy as the delivery guy, he thought wryly.

“If you want,” Marcos said, and Billy nodded. Marcos turned to the other two on the couch, catching Gavin’s pointed look and smiling. “Don’t worry, B.C.,” he said with mock reassurance. “I’ll be good.”

Gavin looked at him. B.C.? Oh, he thought, his cheeks heating slightly again as he remembered. Beefcake. These fuckers…! His mouth was full, though, so he couldn’t object, and Marcos had already moved on. “Uh, let’s see,” Marcos said. “Oh, I know: ‘…help their beefcake English Lit friends get laid’!”

Gavin swallowed with difficulty, giving Marcos an incredulous look. “How?” he blurted out without thinking. “By doing it themselves?!”

“I approve!” Corbin said instantly.

Gavin rounded on him. “What?!” he said, flabbergasted.

Corbin shrugged. “You gotta admit—you’re pretty fucking hot, Gav,” he said unrepentantly, scoping Gavin’s chiseled torso up and down. “I’ve been getting pretty fucking horny just sitting here looking at you.”

“But… you’re always horny!” Gavin objected.

Corbin gave him a feral grin. He set aside his pizza plat, exposing his two massive, swelling cocks. He reached in, adjusting them, and they quickly swelled to enormous hardness, shoving out of his jeans and dripping wetly onto his shirt.

“It’s true, though,” Billy said, and Gavin tore his eyes away from the sight and turned to stare at his newest friend in astonishment. He’d set aside his pizza, too, as had Marcos, though neither of them had pulled out hige, throbbing double erections—yet. Billy held Gavin’s gaze as he continued, “The way you look, even just meeting you at the door…” His voice was deep and rough in a way that caressed Gavin’s balls and pushed his own super-sized dick the rest of the way to fat, rigid hardness down the left leg of his jeans. “It got my balls churning,” Billy said relentlessly, shifting toward him so that he felt powerful and close. “And my dicks… you got my dicks stretching just from looking at you, the second you opened the door. It sounds corny, but I’m for real, Gav.” Billy’s heated stare grew, if possible, even more intense. “I want you to suck my dicks,” he said. “So fucking much.”

Gavin shook his head slightly, his breath catching. It almost sounded like he was joking, like he was mimicking what a porno Pizza Stud would say, but Billy was clearly dead serious. “That’s… that’s the game doing that,” he said.

Billy shrugged, just like Corbin had. “Same difference, right?” he said unwaveringly.

“I don’t know,” Marcos put in, and when Gavin looked at him he saw that Marcos was looking intently at him, and there was a little bit of wonder in his eyes, like he hadn’t quite seen him before. “I feel like that’s where we were all going to end up one way or another tonight,” he said. He leaned forward, moving Gavin’s plate out of the away before taking Gavin’s hand. “I want you,” Marcos said, utterly seriously, “to suck my dicks. Hard and fast,” he insisted, “then slow and sweet, and then again, and again, over and over and over until you’ve drained me dry and my balls hurt from how much of my cum you’ve swallowed down that beautiful, sexy throat of yours.”

Jesus. Gavin felt suddenly like he was very close to a sudden, spontaneous orgasm. He almost came hard and messy when he found Corbin suddenly right next to him on the couch, wrapping a powerful arm around his bare, perfectly sculpted shoulder. “I want that too, and then some,” Corbin said, his mouth close to Gavin’s neck. “It’s what we all fuckin’ want, Gav.”

Gavin struggled to breathe. Fuck, if I felt surrounded by hotness before… He chuckled nervously. “Guys, you got six giant dicks between you,” he said weakly. “How am I…?” he began, trailing off.

Billy smiled. He checked with Marcos. “I still get a turn, right?” Marcos nodded, and Billy turned his infatuated stare back on Gavin. He smiled slightly and said, “‘English Lit majors…’” Then he paused and added significantly, “‘…in this room…’”, making Gavin’s heart pound loud and fast. Fuck, this was for him. For him, and for the four of them—no one else.

Marcos smiled at Billy approvingly, then turned his heated gaze back to Gavin. “‘…always…’” Marcos said. He looked so heart-achingly beautiful. But they all looked heart-achingly beautiful. Something deep inside him swelled with desire and need for all three of these men, and his massive cock strained at his jeans, spurting precum on his knee as he looked from Marcos, to Billy, to Corbin.

He was up. They were watching him, waiting.

“What’re you going to do?” Corbin asked. The randy, horndog part of his jock roomie could easily be heard under the affection in his voice, much to Gavin’s amusement. “You’re going to make it work, right?”

Make it work.

English Lit majors…

in this room…

always…

Gavin swallowed hard. Six huge cocks. Fuck a duck, he wanted desperately to suck each and every one of them, all at the same time.

Then he pictured it, and grinned wide, saying the words before he could think about them. “‘… can have as many selves as he wants and needs’,” he said, quietly but firmly.

Marcos stared into Gavin’s eyes, and Gavin saw when Marcos imagined it, too. “Fuck, Gav,” he whispered.

A giddy thrill ran through Gavin. Sucking first, he thought wildly. He turned to Corbin, who looked mischievous as always. Gavin was aware of his smell as a man for the first time: a hint of musky sweat that worked really well for him, tinged with soap and beer. Corbin fixed his gaze on Gavin’s, ready to bring it home. “‘…and all of them become instantly naked!’” he finished.

Gavin let out a laugh. “You are one horny fucker!” he chided, emphasizing each word. Then, because Corbin’s mouth was so close, he gave up all resistance and leaned in for a hard, open-mouthed kiss. Corbin responded eagerly, his soft bristle brushing against Gavin’s chin, and their kiss deepened, Gavin’s tongue sliding past Corbin’s as they traded mouths.

“Christ,” Billy said, “I approve!”

Then Gavin was pulling Billy up by the hand and wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hard and dirty, though it quickly softened into a crazy, sensual snog that was just as hot as the one he was sharing with Corbin. He caught Billy’s scent, too, spicy with a hint of garlic that might or might not be from his work.

And Gavin was sitting next to Marcos, cupping his stunningly sexy-sweet face in his hand and breathing him in (limes and rain) before gently removing his glasses and setting them aside. Then, with a soft smile, he drew them together at last into a heated and passionate kiss of their own.

And more of him were there, because he did, indeed, need and want, as he suspected he would always be the case around these three impossibly sexy men. All of him were naked and boned, his adamantine, forearm-thick erection jutting immovably straight up past his lickable sculpted abs to where it lay pinned and drooling against his sternum; but it wasn’t his erections he was worried about just now. One of him helped himself and Corbin to their feet, the pair still kissing greedily, while he attended to one of the fat, rigid, monster wangs protruding from Corbin’s waistband. He licked the tip of the nearest one, then mouthed down the shaft as Corbin moaned into his kiss, deciding to leave the other one for the him that was kissing Corbin, or maybe for another him altogether if letting up on kissing Corbin was as difficult as he suspected it would be.

And another Gavin was behind Billy as they kissed, rutting gently against his Pizza Stud’s perfect ass as he worked Billy’s erections free of the sweatpants with only a moment’s difficulty, so that they snapped up and to the side, both of them curving out from Billy’s torso and projecting a good four or five inches out to the side, one above the other, both of them dripping clear precum thick and fast on the carpet. That made it easy, Gavin thought with a thrill, and soon two of him were ministering aggressively to each of the gigantic, leaking boners from either side of Billy’s thickly muscled, camera-hungry body while he and Billy kept on snogging and Billy’s hands descended to Gavin’s immutable giant pillar of cock between them.

And two more of him, or maybe three, were around him and Marcos as they made out on the love seat like they’d been lovers all this time they’d known each other, impatiently working their Latin hottie free of shoes, then of his clingy skinny jeans, and then of soft, pre-cum-damp charcoal boxier briefs, even as the him that was kissing Marcos took the shortest possible gasping break from kissing to whip Marcos’s snug henley over his head, until finally Marcos’s erections were free—and then all four of him stared from multiple angles as Marcos’s released boners leapt up and slapped against his beautiful, firm chest, immediately causing a near spigot of pre to trickle from each of them down Marcos’s firem, hard chest, past his small, brown, pebbled nipples and onto his cum-gutter, perfectly cut eight-pack abs. “Fuck,” he breathed from multiple mouths. An instant later, after they’d shifted Marcos just enough to be leaning back right in the middle of the love seat to give maximum access to both sides, the four of him dived onto each of Marcos’s luscious, collarbone-high cocks, two of him each hungrily attacking the irresistible, wrist-thick, pre-slicked cocks. And even that wasn’t enough, and soon two more were behind the love seat kissing Marcos in an upside-down Spider-Man kiss, and two more of him were licking Marcos’s wide, ponderous balls.

And then he decided he liked double-kissing his guys, and so now there were two of him kissing Corbin, while Corbin felt up both their asses and moaned happily in their mouths as he eagerly sucked on their tongues. And two of him were kissing Billy, delighting in Billy’s long, powerful tongue as it took turns penetrating their mouths as other hims embarked on a diligent pleasuring of Billy’s huge, curving cocks. And then he figured he had liked rubbing his stiff, chest-high cock-shaft against Billy’s ass, so another him was doing that, too, rutting his slippery pole between Billy’s dark, melon-sized muscle glutes, both of them grunting in pleasure as Billy’s superior height provided the perfect angle for his rhythmic thrusts.

They’d all been really turned on to start with. And all of the Gavins pleasuring Corbin, Billy, and Marcos drove everyone so rapidly to the edge that it felt almost like no time had passed before Gavin felt all of his orgasms driving down upon upon him. And from the fevered grunts and accelerating smooching, stroking and mauling he was getting from his three guys, and the quivering urgency of their reddened, straining cocks, the guys were right there with him. Then, all at once, the Gavins that were busy kissing their men broke free, gave each of their lovers a fierce grin as he took their nipples between his fingers, held their gaze, and gave them a slow twist as he dove back in for a final kiss. Within seconds Corbin, Billy, and Marcos were screaming their orgasms into his mouths, then pulling free out of pure need for air, only to clamp their mouths onto Gavin’s necks as they came, panting and crying out in multiple, augmented pleasure. And tasting their cocks’ high-pressure cum and struggling to swallow all of it down as they kept blowing their loads was what pushed Gavin into uncounted simultaneous orgasms, rocketing through every body like he was experiencing an entire’s city’s explosive, all-at-once, totally mind-obliterating release.

Gavin soared, feeling his lovers’ bodies drowning in euphoria along with his own, all of them shipwrecked on the shores of ecstasy. When he regained the ability to make sense of his surrounding from out of a sea of infinite pleasure, he saw that two or three of him were slumped against an awestruck and slightly rubber-legged Billy, more or less holding each other up as they swayed with the drug-like marvel of multiple release; Corbin, grinning from the love of good sex even half-conscious as he was, was slumped back on the couch with a couple or three more of him, and there was a small pile of him—maybe four?—slumped happily on a cum-covered Marcos, his jizz-smeared face a picture of serene bliss.

He enjoyed this for a while. He was still mostly hard, and he saw that Billy, Corbin, and Marcos were, too. They’d be ready for more, soon. There were a few less of him than there had been a little while ago, but he knew his need sure wasn’t satisfied yet, much less his want. In fact, his lovers turned him on so intensely, and so completely, that he doubted he would be one Gavin again for a very, very long time.


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