Authors: Genevieve Bergeron
Sorry, Bro (7 page)
“I should probably look at your stitches and bruises,” Adrian offered. “It’s easy to overexert yourself when you really should be recuperating… A beer wouldn’t be bad either.”
Bryce suppressed the urge to shake his head, and opened the door as Tim grinned at him stupidly. It wouldn’t be so complicated if he and Tim hadn’t had a history. The last thing he wanted was to alienate either of them.
Tim lowered himself onto the couch while Adrian knelt beside him. The doctor looked closely at the stitches on Tim’s abdomen and the bruises on his side. Bryce had retreated to the refrigerator, but then thought better of acting awkwardly and carried a cold beer over to Adrian, who took it and sipped gratefully.
As Adrian placed the beer on the cinder block and plywood coffee table, he said, “It’s good to see the two of you back together.”
Bryce raised his eyebrows. “Together?” He looked at Tim. Embarrassment washed over Bryce, then guilt, then annoyance. He closed his eyes and wondered why Tim had told Adrian so much.
“Well, it was thanks to you,” Tim said.
Adrian still held his hand against Tim’s side when he glanced up at Bryce, who shrugged.
Bryce looked down at his shirt. He noticed the sweat soaking through the front of his white tank top. Inexplicably, he felt the urge to strip it off, then he imagined Adrian’s hands—then Tim’s—sweeping over his abs and pecs, tickling his nipples, both of them kissing him simultaneously, one fondling his balls and the other teasing his earlobe.
“I know,” Bryce said.
Tim continued. “He just needed someone to open up to.” He licked his lips, and pushed himself back to his feet. “Maybe you can help some more.”
Surprised, Bryce took a step back as Tim moved quickly towards him. His back was to the fridge when Tim grasped the lower hem of his tank and pulled upwards, stripping the ribbed fabric from his torso. Bryce closed his eyes, thrilled by the sudden closeness, the power in Tim’s body as he pushed Bryce harder against the cool refrigerator door and covered his mouth with a kiss.
Tim paused. “Come on,” he called.
Eyes still closed, Bryce clenched his teeth and sucked inward as he felt a strong, warm hand fumble at the front of his shorts and whisk the fabric down, where it gathered around his bruised ankles.
Adrian’s mouth was warm and delicious, his tongue trained as it teased the underside of Bryce’s shaft. He moaned against the press of Tim’s lips. How was this happening? What was happening? Bryce imagined what he must look like from a cinematic perspective, a man pressed against his own refrigerator, making out with his former baseball team-mate and enjoying a wet, deep blowjob from a surgeon—still wearing his scrubs—from the hospital where he worked.
Bryce smiled, and Tim drew back. “What?” he murmured.
Bryce shook his head, and pushed forward, but Tim held Bryce a few inches from his lips. “The bed,” he commanded, nodding towards the heap of tousled sheets on the other side of kitchen island. Bryce kicked the shorts from his ankles just as Adrian removed Bryce’s bulging cock from his mouth and stood up.
With his hand planted firmly on Bryce’s ass, Tim led him back towards the bed.
Bryce collapsed onto his back. Tim quickly removed his pants and followed, trailing wet kisses down Bryce’s neck and chest, reaching down to cup his balls.
Exhilarated, Bryce gasped, “Oh yeah,” and glanced to the side of the bed, where Adrian pulled off his scrub top sensually, revealing his chiselled chest, covered with a layer of short, black hairs. He smiled down at Bryce as he removed his scrub pants and allowed his full, hard member to spring free. He clutched it with his right hand and worked the shaft teasingly as he drew towards the bed, then lowered himself onto the ruffled sheets and planted a light kiss on Bryce’s lips.
Bryce gasped with pleasure and nipped at Adrian’s beard, kissing him hungrily, as Tim began to blow Bryce. Tim slid Bryce’s rod in and out of his mouth with rhythmic, satisfying speed, lingering on the very tip before plunging it back into his throat. The simultaneous pressure on Bryce’s cock and surrounding his loins and the greedy, deep kisses unleashed a dizzying, overwhelming sensation of pleasure he had never before experienced, or imagined in his wildest dreams.
“I think I’m gonna come,” Bryce moaned.
Tim sat up and clutched the base of Bryce’s shaft “Not yet, you’re not,” he ordered. He winked at Adrian, who ogled Bryce’s large balls and throbbing, wet dick.
“Where’s the lube?” Tim asked.
“In the bedside table,” Bryce said. He was out of breath.
Tim opened a small drawer and drew out two condoms and a small bottle of lube. He lifted one of the foil packets to his teeth, tore it open and slid it on, then rubbed a small amount of lube over the thin latex covering.
Bryce squeezed Adrian’s sinewy arm as Tim ran the very tip of his cock over Bryce’s ass. As if it were a reflex, Bryce lifted his legs, pushing one ankle against each of Tim’s sides.
“Can I?” Tim asked.
Bryce glanced at Tim, then over to Adrian. They both held him with their gaze. Bryce teetered at the edge of orgasm, and all he wanted was Tim inside him, Tim’s masculine rod thrusting deep into him as he climaxed across his own chest.
Bryce nodded.
It was quicker and more incredible than Bryce had imagined as Tim slipped inside. Tim pushed slowly yet firmly, smiling as Bryce closed his eyes and flushed with ecstasy. Adrian stroked Bryce’s chest, kissing his neck, his lips, nipping at his ears, tracing his eyebrows and nose with his tongue. “Come here,” Tim ordered, gesturing towards Adrian. He held a condom up with one hand as he moved rhythmically back and forth, pushing his dick against Bryce’s prostate. “He can take you.”
Adrian paused, then took the condom from Tim, rolling it down the length of his shaft, and spreading lube over it.
“Just a sec,” Tim said. He pulled out of Bryce, sighed heavily and sat up. “Lie down.”
Adrian positioned himself on his back, and Tim guided Bryce, facing downward, on top of the doctor. Desperate to be filled again, Bryce grasped Adrian’s cock and pushed it slowly against his opening before enveloping the entire length of the shaft and collapsing forward onto the man’s solid chest.
“Yeah, bro,” Bryce moaned. The words barely escaped his lips, he was so racked with pleasure. He felt lightheaded, practically delirious as Adrian fucked him and Tim kissed his shoulders and neck from behind. He opened his eyes, and looked into the dark, strong, sure face of the man below him. The surgeon—the man who saved lives. Bryce nuzzled Adrian and caught the other man’s mouth in a deep kiss. He could feel Adrian smiling as their tongues touched and swirled around one another in a passionate dance.
“Oh, yeah,” Bryce cried, as Adrian shoved harder and deeper. He reached between them and grasped his own cock, gliding his hand over its length in time with the rhythm of Adrian’s hungry thrusts. Adrian’s dick knocked at his prostate, and the electrifying sensation shot through his balls, and all the way up his shaft. He clutched Adrian’s shoulders and arched his feet, desperate for release, stroking feverishly.
As he came, Bryce yelled, spurting cum across Adrian’s hairy chest before collapsing, completely spent. Sweat dripped from Adrian’s forehead as he eased out of Bryce. He peeled away the condom and pushed Bryce up as he crawled from beneath the man’s body. Not yet relieved, he knelt in front of Bryce at the head of the bed as Tim leant forward and fitted his cock back into Bryce’s ass.
“Man, suck me off,” Adrian breathed. The condom had kept his dick clean. Bryce opened his eyes and, still delirious with pleasure, encircled the tip of Adrian’s erection with his lips. The pressure in his ass and mouth were almost too much to bear.
Adrian cried out first, pulling out of Bryce’s mouth to come violently onto the sheets. Still thrusting, Tim gasped, “Fuck yeah, man” before releasing one last, powerful forward movement that sent electricity exploding through Bryce’s body. Tim collapsed onto Bryce’s sweat-covered back and moaned. “Fuck, bro, fuck, fuck.”
“Man,” Adrian said, laughing, clutching the base of his cock, which hung, still large and wet, beside Bryce’s head.
Tim sat up and helped Bryce turn over. He was still flushed, and his dick had hardened a second time. “Oh, man,” Tim whispered, brushing Bryce’s erection and leaning down to lick it playfully. Bryce knew Tim—or Adrian—would be ready to relieve him a second time if he demanded it.
But is this what he had been so afraid of? Of so much pleasure? Or of being judged for it? Bryce studied Tim’s face.
Tim looked up at Adrian. “You’re a good friend, man.”
Adrian nodded, and stood, wiping his loins
with the top of his scrubs before picking up his blue pants. He held them at his side and smiled. “Glad to help. Anytime.” He winked. “I’m a doctor. That’s what I do.”
Tim nodded and leant back over Bryce, kissing his ear and whispering.
Bryce encircled Tim with his arms. “I’m so sorry, bro.”
Tim shook his head, just barely. “It’s okay, man. Just you and me, now.” He lifted his head and tickled the tip of Bryce’s nose with his own. “I love you man.”
Bryce smiled. He didn’t realise just how different things could be.
Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Ivory Towers: Freshman, Uncut
Daisy Harris
Released 14
th
June 2013
Excerpt
Chapter One
Shane stared out into the auditorium—his gaze kept landing on the scrawny punk slumped in the second to last row.
The kid didn’t look up.
He was a shade or two darker than Shane, with a scruff of kinky brown hair and a broad nose. His bone structure was amazing—high cheekbones, sharp, strong jaw. Shane couldn’t tell for sure, since he was sitting down, but he seemed short. Maybe five foot eight. He wore a white wife beater and a heavy gold chain. Black track pants and a tat on his shoulder? He was trying way too hard to look tough.
“That’s all for today.” Professor Boehner flicked off the overhead and wrapped up the Intro to Film class. “Make sure you have those papers in by Monday. We’ll move onto archetypes next week.”
The class burst into a round of applause, the over-excited freshmen falling all over themselves to get to the front of the room and swoon over the professor.
Shane cleared his stuff off the desk. He hadn’t taken any notes. As one of Boehner’s teaching assistants, he’d sat through Intro to Film three times already.
“Mr Roberts?” Boehner called over the heads of his adoring throng. “A moment?”
“Sure thing,” Shane called back.
Boehner jerked his head at the back of the room, his eyes on the punk trying to make a quick getaway out the door. “Could you grab Mr Cruz? I’d like to speak with him.”
Cruz. So that was the kid’s last name. “I’ll grab him.”
Shane fought his way through the kids trying to get out of the auditorium. The brats would have parted like the Red Sea if it were Boehner walking up the aisle. Next class, Shane would make sure Boehner introduced him to the students and made it clear Shane would be grading a lot of their papers.
The punk was out the door by the time Shane reached him. He had his backpack hitched on one shoulder and a black PUMA track jacket draped over the other. The kids around him were giving him a wide berth. Stupid freshmen probably bought his gang-member act.
“Hey. Uh…”
The kid turned at the sound of his voice. “Angel,” he said, jutting his chin forward.
“Okay, Angel.” Shane was too used to freshmen to be bugged by his impudent tone. “Boehner wants to talk to you.”
The attitude drained from Angel’s face, making him look younger. He paled a little, and Shane saw a pattern of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Angel’s eyes were brown, but his right eye was grey in the lower right corner. Shane didn’t remember what it was called when a person’s eye was more than one colour. But whatever trick of genetics had given him that grey-blue slice, it added a layer of intrigue to his appearance that made Shane want to look for a lot longer than was appropriate. Damn, the kid was cute.
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” Angel leaned on his heels. The swagger crept back into his posture, and he lifted his chin and stuck out his chest. Something about how he did that made Shane think it wasn’t entirely an act. Angel had probably had to stand up for himself, and most likely to guys bigger than Shane.
“I didn’t say you did. He just wants to talk to you.”
Angel glanced Shane over, rolling his gaze to Shane’s toes and back up to his face.
Shane was used to being cruised, but he couldn’t tell if that’s what Angel was doing. The kid didn’t look interested as much as scared.
“I’m the TA.” Shane shoved out his hand.
“Yeah. Hi.” Angel didn’t shake.
Shane crossed his arms, tossing every bit of Angel’s attitude back at him in the form of a cold, hard sneer. “You know, if you want to work in the film industry someday, you’re going to have to learn to deal with a few fags.”
He watched his words sink in. Angel’s expression shifted from surprise to a blush of embarrassment. “Hey, man, I didn’t ask if you were.” His defiant attitude was back, but he wouldn’t meet Shane’s eyes.
“No. You didn’t.” Shane wasn’t letting Angel off so easy. “But I’m telling you now. I’m gay, and you may as well get over it.”
Angel’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, no disrespect, man. What, you got a boyfriend or something?”
That one came out of left field, but Shane chose to ignore it. “We better get in there before Boehner has an aneurism.” Shane headed for the door.
Angel stayed behind him all the way to the bottom of the steps. He even hovered over Shane’s shoulder while they waited for the last of the grade grubbers to finish licking Boehner’s ass with their questions.
“Angel!” Boehner said once the students had finally backed off. He threw his arms wide, inviting the kid into a hug.
It was clear Angel wanted no part of it, because he slumped his shoulders.
“Looks like you met my teaching assistant, Shane.”
Angel gave Shane a nervous glance, before dropping his gaze back to the floor. “Yeah” was his one-word answer.
“You getting settled into school? Liking your dorm?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Angel shrugged. His frown made it obvious it was anything but fine.
When he didn’t expand, Boehner ploughed on. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re settling in.” He pulled out a binder, and Shane recognised it as the schedule for shifts in the cage where the school kept all its film equipment. “I’m going to need you to read this, and make sure the materials we need are available whenever students need them. There are templates for sign-up sheets. Shane can help you if you need it.”
So, Angel was Boehner’s latest work-study slave. Poor him.
“Yeah. I’m around. Or you can ask the other TA.” Shane didn’t need the temptation of a way-too-cute freshman showing up during all his office hours.
“That’s good.” Boehner busied himself, packing to leave.
“Thanks.” Angel peeked down, and maybe Shane imagined it, but it seemed like Angel looked at his dick.
No fucking way Angel was gay. Not with that diamond stud in the ‘straight guy’ earlobe and his white, untied high tops. The guy probably had ‘
Exit Only’
tattooed on his ass. Still, that hooded look had been undeniable.
Shane smiled slowly, adding a wink. He watched the way Angel swallowed, like he was drinking it in.
Angel turned away. “Gotta go. ‘Nother class.” He pulled his backpack onto his shoulder and started up the stairs of the auditorium, walking so fast he practically ran.
* * * *
Oh fuck, motherfucker, fuck.
Angel stormed into his freshman hall and slammed the door behind him. The students scattered, disappearing into their rooms.
Angel wiped a hand over his face, trying to scrape of the memory of that fucking film TA Shane out of his head.
The guy looked exactly how Angel would have pictured a film student—white dress shirt open at the neck, hair grown out long enough to be scruffy, black hipster glasses. Even Shane’s woven-leather necklace with the tusk hanging off should have looked queer as fuck. But it didn’t. No, with Shane’s sharp eyes and the way he carried himself, it was sexy. God help him, Angel hated to admit it, but Shane was sexy as hell.
Angel tossed his pack into his dorm room, and pulled off his shirt before heading into the showers.
He stopped in the doorway of the shared bathroom. There was a chick at the sinks. Her blonde hair was all done in some fancy blow-out and her ass was tipped up as she leaned to put on eye makeup.
Back home, the guys would think a girl like that was asking for it, hanging out in short shorts in the men’s bathroom, but the rules were all fucked up and confusing at Pacific Rim University. Chicks walked around in towels in their co-ed dorms and the guys weren’t even supposed to look at them, much less say anything about it.
“Ooh, aren’t you pretty.” The girl checked him out in the mirror’s reflection. Her voice was upper class, and kind of sarcastic. “Nice nipple ring.”
On reflex, he covered his pec. “Get out.”
“Who pissed in your latte?” The girl turned around and sat on the sink.
“This is the guy’s bathroom.”
“Yeah, and the girl’s room is disgusting.” The blonde chick rolled her eyes. “That bulimic bitch from the third floor keeps coming down here to puke. Like I care if she wants to be all ‘cry for help’”—she bent her fingers in air quotes—“but the least she could do is clean up after herself.”
The girl turned back to the mirror, messing with her lip gloss. “I’m Steffie, by the way. We met during orientation. But—no offense—I don’t remember your name.”
“Angel,” he told her. She was a complete bitch, but Angel kind of liked her. She was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the guys and girls in the hall who acted like he was going to pull a gun on them.
“You gonna get out so I can shower?” He shoved the top of his pants halfway over his underwear, so she could tell he was serious about getting out his dick.
“Go ahead and shower if you want. It’s not like you’re straight.”
“The fuck?” Angel stepped up to her. He’d been raised not to hit a girl, and he was pretty sure smacking Steffie across the mouth would get his ass kicked out of Pacific Rim before he could say
assault charges
, but he couldn’t let it go.
“You’re
not
gay?” She watched him for a couple of seconds, completely unafraid. “Huh. My mistake.” Steffie dug through her makeup case. “Either way, you’re not my type. So you don’t need to worry about me ogling you. Go ahead. I’ve got brothers.” She pulled something out of her bag, some contraption she used to curl her eyelashes.
The girl was fucking weird.
“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shoved his pants to the ground and got into the shower stall, closing the plastic curtain behind him.
Angel let the water wash over him, listening to the sound of Steffie’s blow dryer in the bathroom outside. His brain went back to the TA from film class, the messed up way the guy had looked at him and the even more messed up way that wink had make his dick hard.
At least Steffie was in the bathroom. Her perfume and girlie make-up smells made it certain Angel wasn’t going to throw wood. It was a good thing she was there, because it stopped him from rubbing one out and thinking about that fucking TA while he came.