Date: Sun, 12 Jul 2020 16:03:01 -0600 From: Roman Jeffries Subject: Miles from Home: Chapter 8 Thank you, readers, for your continued interest in this story. I always welcome and appreciate feedback, comments, and questions. You can send them my way at romanjwrites@gmail.com ******************************************* May Freshman Year *** "Max: Ben called. Call him back in the morning!" When I saw the note my roommate Mike had scribbled for me on the message board on our door, I stopped myself half-way through fishing my room key out of my pocket and sighed. I pushed the key back into my pocket and turned away from our room to head down the hall to our floor's bathroom instead, glad I'd learned long ago to leave my toothbrush and anything else I might need for the night in there. This way I wasn't stuck unprepared whenever I saw a message like this from "Ben," my fictitious friend from home. When I pushed open the door to my floor's bathroom, heavy, steamy air blasted my face. Through the fog, I nodded a greeting over to Stacey, one of the girls who lived in the room next to ours. She was standing over a sink rummaging around in the jumbled contents of a bathroom caddy roughly the size of an overnight bag. "Hey, Max!" she called out with a chirpy brightness I was hard pressed to match after midnight on a Tuesday. "How's it goin', Stace?" I yawned in return, frowning a little as I tried to find a safe spot to set down my books on the gritty, wet counter splattered with stains and oddly-colored puddles of dubious origin. "Good," she chimed, laughing as I gave up on the counter entirely and opted to lay my books on top of the paper towel dispenser instead. "... You just get back from the library?" she asked, rubbing some kind of sweet smelling cream onto her face as a part of her lengthy bedtime grooming rituals, the intricacies of which I'd given up trying to understand. There had probably been a time when I would've wondered how the hell she knew I'd been at the library in the first place since I hadn't seen her all day and certainly hadn't ever mentioned to her that I would be there. By this point in the year, though, I didn't even give it a second thought that she'd somehow heard about where I'd been for most of the night. Such was life at a small school. "Yeah, I've got my econ exam in the morning," I answered, squeezing some toothpaste onto my brush. "... I needed to catch up on some of the chapters I missed while I was back home." "Ughh, good luck with that," Stacey said, glancing away from the mirror over to me while she slathered something else on her forehead. "... I heard everyone's totally freakin' about that class since Professor Dunne's such a hard ass." "Meh," I grunted over my toothbrush, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly in reply. Although I really did like Stacey, I couldn't help but feel momentarily nostalgic for a time in my life when I hadn't been expected to carry on conversations with anyone while my mouth was full of toothpaste. "Hope you get enough sleep, too, since it looks like Mike's got company again tonight," Stacey giggled. I rolled my eyes over my toothbrush in response, wondering why Mike and I still bothered with the whole message board thing. By now everyone on our floor knew what the "Ben" code really meant. Then again, it was still useful for telling me when it would be safe to come back to our room. One instance of walking in on Mike when he'd been going down on one of the girls who lived upstairs from us had been awkward enough. "If you need somewhere to go tonight, you're welcome to stay in our room..." Stacey continued, looking back over at me as her dark brown eyes widened hopefully. I then paused to remove the brush from my mouth and spit out some toothpaste before I responded: "No, thanks," I said, wiping the corners of my mouth a little. "I think I'll just crash over at Pete's since he's got a futon." I was about to stick my toothbrush back in my mouth when I thought again about how late it was now and then added: "... But if he's already asleep I might come back and take you up on that." "Oh, okay," Stacey replied, with a touch of disappointment as she bent over to splash some water on her face. She stood back up, patted her face dry with a towel, and then turned to me, brightly asking "So how do I look?" I continued brushing for a moment, trying to make my mouth as foamy as I could while I wrinkled my brow in a pensive expression. After a few seconds, I took my toothbrush back out, deliberately not bothering to wipe away any of the white foam now covering my mouth and lips before I replied: "Almost as hot as I do right now." "Shut up!" Stacey laughed indignantly. "You look like you've got rabies." I smiled widely back at her through the foam and then went back to brushing. "G'night," Stacey chuckled as she opened the door with her hip to avoid touching the grimy surface with her hands. "... Just knock later if you do need to come over," she called over her shoulder before the door closed after her, leaving me alone as I completed my brushing. I finished up in the bathroom, grabbed my books, and headed down the stairs and out my building on my way towards Pete's. As soon as I got back outside, though, my steps slowed to a crawl. I'd walked over to Pete's dorm on this familiar path across the freshman quad hundreds, probably even thousands, of times already this year at every hour of the night and day. I'd done it falling-over drunk. I'd done it with my eyes pressed shut against a driving snow storm. I'd done it doubled up with laughter next to Pete. Walking over there wasn't anything new. But the anxious weight I now felt sinking in my gut was. Even as I was doing it, I knew I was dragging my feet because I was nervous about what might happen at Pete's. There were plenty of other places I could've gone for the night, but I'd immediately known Pete's would be the one I'd pick as soon as I saw Mike's message. I was making a choice to go to Pete's. And, fuck it, I damn well knew why. It was the same reason that'd sent me in this direction across the quad all year long: I wanted to be with Pete. No matter the spoken reason or pretext for all my other visits there, it'd always come down to that one. But now going there meant something entirely different: Now something might actually happen between us. The idea of me and Pete wasn't just some fucked up thought I had to bury in the back of my mind anymore because now Pete knew... And, miraculously, it was okay. The world hadn't come crashing down on top of me like I'd always assumed it would if Pete ever found out. And it hadn't because Pete felt that same unspoken thing pulling between us, too. It was real. Un-fucking-believable. ... But, uhh, now what?? At any other time in my life, the answer would've been obvious. It was exactly what, as a hormonal teenage guy, I knew I was supposed to be thinking now: Finally, we can get to the good part. The part where Pete and I just fuckin' go to town with each other... Right? Wrong. Evidently, Pete really had been onto something that afternoon: It wasn't going to be that easy. It'd been two weeks now since the conversation between us that started in my room and then ended down by the gym. And in all that time we'd only come close to doing anything once. It happened on the same night of that talk. I was on such a fucking high that whole afternoon after I'd chased Pete down to the gym. The fear that'd weighed so heavily on me while I was home had suddenly, unexpectedly been lifted from my shoulders. I was just so overwhelmed with relief that I hadn't fucked everything up that the reality of all Pete and I had said to each other hadn't set in yet. For once, I wasn't over-thinking what it all meant, and I just felt happy to be running with my team again when I finally showed up late to my track practice. In my good mood, it'd been easy for a couple of my teammates to convince me to forgo catching up on my class work for one more night and hang out with them to celebrate my return to campus. I was still floating on the high from my relief about Pete, so the hours and the drinks and the laughter with my buds quickly slipped by until it was past midnight. Without even intending it, the three of us had plowed through all the alcohol we'd pooled together, downing a handle's worth of tequila shots and a case of cheap beer while we laughed and played video games. I still felt fucking great when I finally bid them goodnight. And when I left their room, I did what I always had whenever I felt that way here at school: I went to find Pete. I stumbled across the quad to Pete's dorm and stopped when I arrived at his room to rest my spinning head against his door for a few seconds before I knocked. I'd felt fine sitting around over at my friend's, but it was hard to ignore how wasted I really was now that I was up on my feet and moving around. When my head started to settle, though, I pushed myself off of Pete's door and knocked. "Max!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up when he opened the door and saw it was me. I immediately started to topple through the doorway though, so Pete lifted his right hand up and reached out to steady me. Teetering on my feet, Pete gripped my shoulder and pulled me forward into his room. Once I was inside, he kicked the door closed behind us with his foot, but he kept his eyes locked onto mine the whole time. I stared back into his. Fuck, I couldn't help it. I was mesmerized, caught up in all the shades of color from dark mahogany brown near the whites to the bright amber-hazel tones bordering his pupils. Holy fuck Pete's eyes were amazing. I'd never let myself just look without turning away before. Too many seconds passed before I was aware of anything else and realized neither of us had said anything since I'd come in. "Hey..." I slurred thickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It was just one word, but it sounded like one of the absolute dumbest things I'd ever said in my life. "Hey," Pete laughed in return, his lips stretching wide in an amused grin. God, his smile. Pete hadn't let go of my shoulder, and his eyes were like magnets locked onto mine. The air seemed thick and heavy between us. I felt like I was out of breath. "I wanted..." I began, but couldn't complete the thought as I saw Pete's eyes widen. "Y'know..." I couldn't say it. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. I couldn't form the words. Pete was so close, though. I could smell him. Fuck, he was so beautiful. I could see it now. I reached one of my hands up to Pete's face again, like I had that other time, as I leaned in to kiss him. When I did, though, my palm brushed against his cheek. Which was rough. And stubbly. My hand froze there against the side of Pete's face, my fingertips just grazing into his hair. It was short. Much shorter than any girl's I'd ever been with. This was... ... This was fucking weird. Something twisted in my stomach. Everything I felt was completely unnerving all of a sudden, and a bubbling in my gut broke the moment. I couldn't do this. My face must've betrayed me, and I could see Pete's expression sinking in confusion now. Something deeper, more instinctual took hold in my mind, telling me to just play this off and to get the fuck out of here. So I wrapped my arm around Pete's neck, and pulled him down into a headlock, rubbing his scalp with my knuckles and giving him a noogie. "I came t'say you shoulda been attha party." I laughed, but my slurred attempt at levity sounded hollow, even to me. Pete didn't laugh at my cover. Instead, he reached out both of his arms and pushed me away. It wasn't hard. I wasn't holding him very tightly. He straightened back up and looked back into my face. "You're drunk," he finally said, his own face sinking further as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm drunk... s'I bettr go t'bed." I slurred again, turning away from him and heading towards the door. Shame seared through me: Get the fuck out of here. Now. "Max, wait up!" Pete quickly called out from behind me. "Let me help you over there." "I'm `kay," I protested, holding up my hands but not turning around to look at him. "I c'n make it on my own." My voice sounded shrill as I reached for the door and flung it open, not wanting to face Pete and the way he'd just looked at me. Without looking back, I bolted into the hallway, stumbled down the stairs, and staggered out onto the quad. When I was outside his dorm, I hunched myself over immediately and vomited into some bushes. This time, though, that did nothing to relieve the burning I felt deep in my gut. A few minutes later, after I'd made it back into my own room, I heard my phone ring, and I couldn't stop myself from looking to see who it was. Pete. Reflexively, I answered it. "Hey," Pete said, his voice sounding tense. "I just wanted to make sure you made it over there alright." "I got it," I said shortly, knowing I couldn't talk about this with Pete. Not now. "M-..." he began until I cut him off. "...-I'm g'nna sleep now." I said with as much firmness as I could muster. "Night, dude," and then I hung up and turned off my phone before he had a chance to say anything else. Still in all my clothes, I sprawled on top of my bed and pressed my eyes shut. The spinning room whirled me into a fitful, restless oblivion that still didn't blot out how much I was cursing myself for the way I'd just ended that day. Pete and I had never spoken about that night since it happened. We hadn't even so much as alluded to any of the things we'd said in our conversation in my room and by the gym, either, and our mutual silence about it all had yawned emptily between us ever since then. For two weeks now, the sound of everything we were not talking about boomed even louder than the easy laughter that ordinarily would've been there in its place. ... And I couldn't fucking stand this shit anymore. Not this pit in my stomach. Not this pounding in my heart. And not this adrenaline surging through my nerves every time I'd hung out with Pete, every time I'd unexpectedly run into him somewhere around campus, every fucking time I felt myself acting like some bumbling, nervous idiot around him now... Every fucking time. I felt ridiculous. I was losing respect for myself, and fast. I mean, I knew I wanted this. Fuck, if I was being honest, I'd been attracted to Pete for months. But now that I had a chance to actually do something with him, I was scared shitless. And I fucking hated myself for that. But what I hated most was the issue I felt lurking behind all my inertia: Pete was a guy. If I did something with him now, then for the rest of my life I'd be a guy who'd hooked up with another guy. Having random thoughts about that had been one thing. But acting on it...? That felt like something else entirely. And I was realizing the `something else' carried a judgment with it even in my own mind... one that wasn't exactly a good one, either. Before this year, I'd always thought of myself as an unprejudiced, accepting kind of guy. I'd thought I was immune to or above all the close-minded, homophobic bullshit that hurt people like Pete. I knew better. Or so I'd thought. But the last two weeks had made me see a side to myself I'd never believed was there: A part of me really was caught up in all that insidious crap. After all, if I really believed it didn't matter who the hell you fucked around with, then I wouldn't have freaked out on Pete that night and I would've made some kind of move on him since then. So, clearly, it did matter to me. In spite of whatever I'd been feeling about Pete all year, I still saw myself as straight. And I had to admit that some part of me believed being straight was somehow better or more acceptable than being gay... At least for myself anyway. I'd never thought I had any problem with gay people before, but evidently that didn't stop me from having a problem with me doing anything "gay." So, I was a fucking hypocrite. And I hated feeling that way. I shook my head now, physically trying to clear my spiraling thoughts. Looking ahead to Pete's dorm looming in front of me, I saw his light was still on so I entered his building and climbed the stairs two at a time up to his floor. Then, after I stepped through the door from the stairwell and turned down his hallway towards his room, I was surprised to hear Pete call out my name from behind me: "Max?" he questioned, his voice coming from the direction opposite of where his room was. I turned the other way down the hall and saw Pete paused in front of the door to the bathroom. "Oh, hey," I smiled nervously as I stepped towards him, my pulse starting to race as soon as I saw Pete's eyes on me. Pete glanced from my face down to the books I had tucked under my arm, and then asked: "Ben?" "Yeah, again," I said, rolling my eyes and grateful when he laughed in return. "Mind if I crash here?" "'Course not," Pete smiled quickly. "... I was just going to bed too-..." He stopped himself abruptly there, wincing at what he'd just said before he continued. "... I mean, it's cool if you wanna hang out for awhile, too..." Even though awkwardness like this had happened a lot between us over the past two weeks, it was still strange to see Pete looking shy about anything. I suddenly felt guilty for just inviting myself over. "No, I don't wanna be a pain in the ass..." Inwardly, I cringed at my choice of that particular expression at this moment. "...I mean, I'm pretty beat, so it's okay if you were just gonna sleep right away." "Okay," Pete's smile sank a little. "It's open..." he said, nodding his head down the hall towards his room. "Just go in. I'll be back in a minute." "Thanks," I smiled as Pete pushed through the door into the bathroom, but it slipped off my face as soon as he was gone. I turned to walk down the empty hallway towards his room. I could tell Pete was excited I'd come over here, and that was another thing that worried me. Pete's feelings were at stake in all this, too. I had no right to fuck around here just because I was such a dumbass. For all the bravado that'd sent me chasing Pete down to the gym two weeks ago, I didn't really know what to do from here. Fuck, I hadn't even thought through what I said to him out there. I'd just been reacting, impulsively, to Pete rejecting me. Acknowledging what we both wanted seemed like an obvious step, but that didn't mean I had any fuckin' clue about what to do next. I mean, what the hell had I gotten myself into?? I could feel the leaden ball in my stomach growing heavier with each step as I walked down the hall to Pete's room. Before now, I'd never allowed myself to imagine what hooking up with Pete would really be like. Instead of indulging it, I'd very deliberately pushed down any conscious thoughts I ever had that wandered into that territory. Suppression had felt like my only option because I'd been too dense to believe Pete could be anything other than straight right up until that day he told me the truth. Before then, thinking about what I'd want to do with Pete seemed just as pointless and untethered from actual possibility as any fantasy I'd ever had about an actress I'd lusted after in a movie or a porn. I mean, why entertain the thought if nothing was ever going to happen besides potentially fucking up our friendship? But now that I had an actual chance with Pete, having done what'd seemed like the sensible thing all year was suddenly biting me in the ass. Hard. Turns out, I'd shot myself in the foot by never allowing myself to think any further than `wow, Pete is hot.' Now that there was actual potential between us, I was paralyzed by that deer-in-headlights feeling of having a professor call on me when I'd been spacing out in class and hadn't done any of the reading. Except this was way, way worse. I couldn't just bullshit my way through the response here. Pete was too important. I didn't want to fuck with his head or his heart while I fumbled for answers about what I wanted to do. Pete deserved so much better than some rookie player getting called into the game without knowing how to run any of the plays. I sighed at these thoughts racing through my head as I reached Pete's door and stepped inside his room. It smelled like Pete in here. Without intending to, I breathed in deeply and savored the scent, realizing I liked it. It smelled clean, like soap and freshly done laundry. There was no overwhelming, perfume-y smell like so many girls' dorm rooms had. There was just a light scent hanging in the air that was... well, it was Pete. And it smelled good. I couldn't help but laugh at myself as that occurred to me: I liked the way another dude's room smelled. Fucking ridiculous. Still, when I compared it to my other buddies' rooms, it was easy to understand why I appreciated Pete's so much. His room smelled like a real home, like he was someone who knew how to take care of himself, whereas most dude dens smelled like some rank combination of stale beer, old pizza, and dirty laundry. Hell, even my own room always smelled like Mike's sweaty lacrosse gear to me since he had yet to figure out how to operate the washing machine in our dorm without having someone else there to coach him. I stepped across Pete's room to the futon and kicked off my shoes, pausing half-way through pulling my hoodie over my head. I admitted to myself that the bounds of my absurdity didn't stop at liking how Pete's room smelled, though. No, I had to admit now that I was also absurd enough to want Pete but still not have any idea what I wanted to do about it. I mean, what did I think would feel good to do with Pete? And what would I be ready to do to make him feel good? I'd figured that out for myself with women years ago, but now with Pete I felt like I was some awkward, clueless middle school kid all over again. Ever since the night I'd choked when I tried to kiss Pete, all I seemed to have were the same questions running in a tired loop around my mind, chasing after answers I didn't have: Could I actually do this? What if it really did fuck things up between us? What if, after trying something with Pete, it turned out that I honestly wasn't into it? What if somebody found out about us? And why the hell was I making everything so complicated now? I sighed at myself as I tossed my hoodie over one arm of the futon. Undoing the button to my shorts, I also admitted that a couple weeks' worth of furtive online searches for gay porn hadn't been much help in figuring any of this out either. If anything, it just made the reality of what it would mean to be with Pete dawn on me more concretely. Those hasty dives into previously undiscovered corners of the internet had made it pretty clear I was nowhere near prepared to go down on Pete, to actually give him a blow job, to fuck him, or even, oh God, to let him fuck me... But, still... I was drawn to something... I could watch the images or read the stories of guys getting off with each other with almost detached clinical interest in the kind of physical response that elicited in my dick. Getting hard looking at dick was new for me, but it still felt almost like an abstraction. What I felt pulling me to Pete was much more specific. I found myself wondering what Pete would be like when he was caught up in the kind of pleasure I saw in the guys' faces on my computer screen. I'd always envied Pete's seemingly unflappable composure and self-possession. The idea of Pete letting go to that kind of feeling, of me being the one to get him there... It didn't feel like any great leap to imagine that making Pete feel good like that would somehow feel satisfying for me too. Sliding out of my shorts, I stood back up in just my boxer briefs and pulled off my thin t-shirt. I went over to Pete's closet and grabbed the blanket I usually slept under, knowing exactly where it was since I'd done this so many times before. Mike really had turned out to be a great roommate, and he'd been as considerate as I could reasonably expect him to be about his hooking up. After all, our room was just as much his as it was mine, and he did try to limit the number of times he sexiled me out for the whole night. Luckily, it'd been easy to find sympathetic people who were willing to take me in for the night because they understood all too well how it was in the interest of roommate harmony for me not to be a cock block. Somewhere half-way through first semester, though, I'd started crashing at Pete's almost every time I heard from "Ben." It really was more comfortable over here because of his futon and because, by some stroke of either extreme good luck or his father (I'd never asked which), Pete had a single room and didn't have any roommates I would be imposing on, too. Going back over to the futon, I started to shake out the blanket but stopped half-way through as one of the posters on Pete's wall caught my eye. It was a panoramic image of Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park. God, that place looked amazing... I couldn't count the number of times I'd been in here this year, sitting with Pete on this very futon talking about nothing or everything, laughing, and maybe sharing a beer or two from his fridge and then seen Pete stare up at that poster. Sometimes he'd zone out completely, like he was thousands of miles away perched on top of one of the sharp, glaciated peaks surrounding the lake. Other times, he'd notice I caught him and then he'd light up as he told me about some adventure he'd had in the park. I always wondered what it would be like to be there with him, to paddle across the lake or climb one of those peaks together and-... ...- I froze as I heard the door to the room opening behind me. I spun around guiltily, as if Pete'd just caught me doing something wrong. "Hey, Max, did I- ..." Pete began in the tone he always had whenever he was about to tell me a funny story. But he stopped abruptly when he saw me turning around to look at him. We were frozen there for a few heavy seconds eyeing each other silently from across his room before Pete finally turned away from me, stepped over to his dresser, and started wordlessly putting away his toothpaste and other things he'd had in the bathroom. "What?" I asked him, confused. Had I done something wrong? Did Pete not want me here after all? "Nothin'," Pete said quickly, turning slightly to smile at me over his shoulder. "... I just remembered I already told you about that..." He turned back to close the drawer in front of him and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of the mesh lacrosse shorts he'd been wearing. Pushing them down his legs in one long, fluid motion, Pete gracefully kicked them up into his hands with one of his feet. I tried, only half-successfully, to focus on what he was saying to me now rather than the riveting sight of his muscular ass half-bent over and covered only by his black boxer briefs. It didn't get any easier to concentrate when he pulled off his t-shirt too, revealing the cords of muscle tapering from his broad shoulders down to his lean waist. "So how'd the studying go?" He was asking me. "Fine..." I replied absently, glad Pete was still facing away from me as he tossed the shorts and shirt into his laundry hamper so he couldn't see the thickening in the front of my own boxer briefs. I felt exposed suddenly, and I sat down on the futon to hide my package. Pete turned back around to face me, now dressed almost identically to me in just boxer briefs that were only a slightly different color than my own. I had to force my eyes from his bare chest back up to his face."You think you're ready for that exam in the morning?" he asked. "As much as I'll ever be," I shrugged, draping one of my hands over my swelling dick to hide it from Pete's view. "Well, I guess I better let you sleep, so you can't blame me if you don't ace it," Pete chuckled as he walked over to his desk and closed the lid to his laptop, which he must've turned off before he left for the bathroom. I guess he really had been about to go to bed after all. He reached over to the wall and flicked off the light switch, making the room dark around us. Wait... That was it?? Pete didn't want to even talk to me for a while? I heard him making his way over to his bed, so I sighed in frustration and defeat as I picked up my feet and began to settle into the futon. "Hey, you need me to set the alarm?" Pete asked through the darkness as he was pulling back the sheets on his bed. "Uhh, yeah," I stammered, searching for something more to say to him. "Seven-thirty." Pete chuckled again as I watched his hand covering the glowing display on his alarm clock. "Dude, I don't know why you take all these morning classes..." "Thanks," I said, unable to think of anything else that would get at what I really wanted to say to him. "You okay over there?" Pete asked as my eyes, adjusting to the darkness now, made out the silhouette of his body turning back towards his bed. "Yeah, thanks," I responded reflexively. I cringed, though, when it occurred to me too slowly that it could've been the opening I wanted. But it was too late to take it back now. Pete sighed as I watched him climb into the bed and slide under the covers. "G'night." "Good night," I called back, laying my head down onto the pillow. Fuck! I cursed silently to myself. I'm such a fuckin' coward. Why the hell couldn't I think of a way to make a move? I pressed my eyes closed in an effort to black out the frustration I felt with myself. I knew from all the other times I'd slept over here that as soon as Pete got into bed, it was all over for the night. As far as I could tell, he was pretty much on and off like a light switch, going out cold almost immediately when he hit the pillow and snapping wide awake as soon as the alarm sounded in the morning. I held myself still for a few minutes as I berated myself for missing my chance, not wanting to annoy Pete with my restlessness. But after a while, I resigned myself to trying to at least get some sleep out of the night and started shifting around on the futon to get more comfortable. I thought I was being quiet, but I froze when I heard Pete start to toss and turn up on his bed too. At first I thought I was mistaken because ordinarily Pete would've been dead to the world long before now. But it happened a few times, and the squeak of the cheap dorm bed underneath him was unmistakable. I listened into the darkness for the sound of his breathing, but I couldn't hear the steady rhythm I usually could when he was asleep up there. Even though I was unsure of what exactly I wanted to do, I knew I had to say something now before it was too late again. "Pete?" I asked tentatively into the darkness as I turned over on my side to look in the direction of the bed. "What??" Pete snapped, sharply, in reply. I was immediately taken aback. Something really was bothering him. "What's wrong?" Pete snorted shortly. His voice was tight when he answered: "You know." "What?" I asked, confused. Pete sat up and reached behind him to punch up his pillows a little. "Never mind..." he finally sighed. But he didn't lie back down right away. "Dude..." He was silent for a minute, sitting up on his bed and looking through the darkness over in my direction to where I was now sitting upright on the futon, too. "It's just..." he finally began, sounding reluctant, stopping before he got any further. "What is it?" I asked, watching the dark outline of him running one of his hands through his hair. "I thought maybe you were gonna sleep up here with me," Pete blurted. Immediately, the fluttering started again in my stomach, and I felt my heart race inside my chest. Pete dropped his hand down from his head back onto the bed and continued before I had a chance to say anything in response. "... Look, I can tell you're nervous about something... But this is just stupid. It's way more comfortable up here than on that thing. And I want you to sleep up with me." "You don't mind?" I asked, my heart still hammering. "No!" Pete huffed incredulously. " ...Max, you said you wanted to stop the bullshit and the pretending, so there it is: I want you up here with me because I'd like that." That was the first allusion either of us had ever made to that conversation by the gym, and it hit me now just how much I hadn't been doing what I'd asked of us in the days since then. I was silent as I was thinking about that, so Pete went on before I replied: "... It's your call. But, like, I can tell something's bothering you... And that's okay!... I'm not gonna push you or do anything creepy to you." Pete was right. This was stupid. Without saying anything, then, I tossed off the blanket, got up, and walked over to Pete's bed. As I came closer, I saw Pete lying back down and sliding over to the side closest to the wall, flipping down the covers so I'd be able to climb in, too. It was a small bed, the standard twin size one that came in every dorm room, and I'd assumed there'd be no way we could both fit without touching somewhere. As I settled in under his soft sheets, though, I found there really was room for both of us. True to his word, Pete was staying on his side, practically pressed up against the wall. I laid flat on my back on the opposite side, my left arm nearly hanging over the edge. Staring up at the ceiling, I finally spoke: "Thank you." It wasn't much, but it was all I could piece together to say at that moment. "You're welcome," Pete responded as he settled his head back into his pillow, his tone serious enough to imply just how he meant that. I wanted to say more to him, but at that moment I didn't have the words. I was angry with myself for frustrating Pete, for frustrating myself, for making this all so fucking hard. I wondered why Pete didn't seem to be going through all this shit, too. I wanted to ask him, but I still couldn't bring myself to talk to him about this. But for right now, I finally began to relax all the tension in my muscles and settle into the bed. Being here with Pete just felt nice. The sheets, already warmed from his body, felt soft as they draped over me, and that same comforting Pete scent was even deeper here in his bed. Lying there quietly with my eyes closed against the darkness, the only things I could sense were the softness of his bed, the familiarity of Pete's scent, and the faint, even sound of him breathing next to me. I felt content and, for once, peaceful. This felt good. When it seemed like Pete had drifted into sleep, I slowly turned my head to the side to look at him. Pete always left the shade to his room open, and there was a streetlight outside his window, so it wasn't completely dark. I drank in the sight of his profile: His smooth, broad forehead. His strong nose. His gently curving lips. The square line of his jaw. God, he was so beautiful. I closed my eyes and nestled my head deeper into the pillow, wanting to relax myself into sleep. Breathing in deeply, I inhaled the smell of this place, of him, and it seemed almost as though Pete was wrapped all around me. And I liked that, too. Actually, I really liked it: Underneath the covers, I felt my dick thicken and stir inside my boxers. Within seconds, I was fully hard and throbbing against the weight of the blankets pressing down on my arching shaft. Oh fuck, not now. This usually happened at some point before I fell asleep, but tonight I just felt exasperated with myself. This clearly wasn't the kind of hardon I'd be able to just ignore, either. I was so hard I was aching as something inside my body responded, viscerally, to being here with Pete. It was obvious that sleep would never happen until my dick received the attention it was demanding, but I couldn't touch myself now. Not here. Not in Pete's bed while he was asleep next to me. That's just fucking sketchy... Pete. Damn it, why hadn't I tried something earlier when Pete was actually awake? I thought about how peaceful he had just looked resting by my side, and I knew I couldn't disturb that. He'd looked so calm... So hot. Fuck. I slowly twisted my body around onto my side, trying to free my dick from the weight of the blankets and hoping that would relieve some of the urgency. I held my breath for a minute as I moved, listening to the sound of Pete's. It continued even and strong. I exhaled slowly as I rested on my side, my body now facing towards Pete's with my eyes closed. The only sensation on my dick now was the waistband of my underwear it was still straining against. I focused on the sound of Pete's breathing again, hoping its steady rhythm would calm me. But it didn't. Instead, it made me feel even more connected to Pete, and something inside me finally let go. I had to touch Pete or I'd go fuckin' crazy. Just touch Pete... I could do that without waking him, right? I slowly slid my right hand over the surface of the bed, inching towards Pete. My heart thundered inside my chest as my hand crept closer to him until the tip of my index finger just barely grazed against the edge of his hand. I rested it there, the rush of the contact between us sparking through my entire body. My dick throbbed even harder, this time in perfect rhythm with the pounding of my heart. I listened for the sound of Pete's breath again to see if I'd disturbed him, but it was drowned out by the ringing of my own pulse racing through my ears. And I couldn't stop myself from going further. With just my fingertip, I traced along the edge of Pete's hand. I wasn't pressing or massaging, just smoothly gliding over the length of his little finger up to its tip. I savored the feel, the texture of Pete's skin against my own and the tickle of the fine hairs on the back of his hand when I brushed my fingertip over there too. Awareness of anything else dropped out of my mind. I was entirely fixated on the contact between us. Pete hadn't stirred, so I continued tracing the length of each of his fingers. One by one. I was only touching Pete's hand, but the sensations of that touch were so exhilarating that I both ached to feel more and shuddered at how intense this alone felt. I exhaled a long, pent up sigh and realized I hadn't breathed at all since I first touched Pete. That pulled some of my attention away from the fingertip I was now gliding over Pete's ring finger, so it registered again how my dick was straining painfully to get free from my underwear. But something else had changed too, though... I paused the movement of my finger as I tried to place what was different until it occurred to me: I couldn't hear Pete's breathing anymore. Oh shit, Pete was awake! Seized with embarrassment at getting caught, I hastily started to pull my hand away from Pete's. But before I could, Pete arched up his ring finger to catch mine and hold it there against his. Pete was awake... And he wanted this, too. I breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the rest of my fingertips down to rest on the top of Pete's hand. Pete exhaled then too, a little raggedly, and relaxed the hold he'd kept on my index finger. I returned to exploring Pete's hand with my fingertips again, but now Pete was lifting and sliding his fingers against mine too, opening up and responding to my touch. I started caressing his hand then as Pete moved against my own, lifting and spreading his fingers apart to make room for mine. He was mimicking my touch, brushing his own fingertips against my hand and making my skin shiver at the sensation. I listened for Pete's breath again. It sounded shallower, lower than I'd heard it before. I realized Pete must be as excited as I was, and my dick throbbed impossibly harder at that thought. Not wanting to break the contact between us, I continued caressing Pete's hand with my own as I started slowly inching the rest of my body across the bed closer to him. I felt Pete shifting closer to me as well. Even though I'd kept my eyes closed this entire time and our hands were still the only contact between us, I could now feel the warmth of Pete's breath washing over me. Our faces must've been only centimeters apart from each other, and I knew instinctively what Pete wanted now. But just as he'd promised, Pete wasn't pushing me or demanding anything. He was waiting for me there, giving me a choice. The quickness of his breath and the growing urgency of his hand on mine told me just how excited Pete was and how much he wanted this... And, fuck, I did, too. I couldn't deny it. My dick was aching and my whole body strained to be closer to Pete. This all felt so incredible. God, I couldn't fucking believe how good this was, how turned on I felt just by touching Pete's hand, but still... I hesitated. I was making a conscious decision this time, and all my inertia and doubt surged back to hold me motionless. I opened my eyes and looked at Pete's face. I so wanted to do the right thing for Pete, for both of us. But I didn't know where crossing this threshold would lead. And there was no way to be sure about that. But as I looked at Pete opening his eyes to look back at me now, I decided that I shouldn't let the doubt hold me back. This wouldn't ever be a matter of certainty, but it could be a matter of faith. Faith in both of us. Pete trusted me. I had to trust myself, too. Whatever happened from here, we could handle it. I closed my eyes, tilted my face forward until my lips reached Pete's, and I kissed him. Softly. Just brushing my lips over his like how my fingertips had touched his hand. And... ... And, fuck... It felt so good. All my worries abruptly fell quiet. I could feel the stubble on Pete's chin bristling and scraping against my own, but I was expecting that this time. And, to my surprise, this time I actually liked the sensation against my skin. Pete's chin nuzzled against mine, and I brought my lips back to his again, pressing against them this time. Pete's lips were so much softer than I'd thought they'd be. They felt unbelievable contrasted with the roughness of the stubble around his mouth. Pete was pressing his lips against mine, too, returning my kiss, and I realized his lips, like the rest of him, felt strong somehow. I pulled back slightly now so I was just brushing my lips over Pete's again, feeling like I had to remember to breathe as my heartbeat pounded through my body. I could feel Pete's shallow breath washing warmly over my face, too, and I knew he was right there with me, just like I wanted him to be. I pressed my lips forward again, kissing him even more firmly than I had before. But this time I parted my lips slightly and slid my tongue out to softly glide over Pete's... ... And, oh God, his lips felt great against my tongue. Pete groaned a little then, too, a deep sound I could practically feel humming in his throat, and he scooted his body against the bed, bringing us even closer together. I felt our calves sliding against each other now, the hair on both our legs making the contact even more electrifying when I pushed mine into his. I'd kept my lips on Pete's this whole time, but now I moved mine upward slightly so my lower lip was nudging his down. Pete responded immediately, parting his lips open, and I slid the tip of my tongue inside his mouth, inside of him. I glided it along the inner part of Pete's upper lip, amazed at how smooth, how soft, how warm he felt there. My own breath was starting to go ragged as I pressed my mouth even more tightly against his. I started to draw my tongue back to break the kiss and give us a second to breathe, but as soon as I did, I felt Pete's tongue pushing forward, meeting my own inside his mouth and keeping me there. He slid his tongue against mine, massaging it, tasting it, and I no longer cared about breathing at all. Our tongues twisted together, pushing our lips more widely open as Pete drew me deeper into his mouth. I dimly heard the hum of another moan and felt the vibration inside our mouths before I even realized it was coming from me. I then felt one of Pete's hands threading through my hair, pulling my mouth more tightly against his as his tongue pushed its way along mine and into my mouth. He was exploring my own lips now, gliding over them with his tongue, and I felt him rolling from his side onto his back. Pete used his hand in my hair to pull me down on top of him as he rolled, and I slid my body forward along with his. My chest came to rest diagonally over his, the heat of his skin searing into mine, but we never even broke our kiss. Absently, I felt my throbbing dick where it was elevated off the bed but still trapped between my abs and the waistband of my underwear. It barely registered. That sensation was drowned out by the feeling of the connection between our mouths, between our lips, between our tongues, between us. No other part of my body existed at that moment. This kiss was fucking everything. Overwhelmed by how good this felt, by how good Pete felt, I wasn't thinking now. At that moment any thought would've been treacherous, an evasion of the very sensations I was aching for so deeply. I was lost in it, in Pete, and I fucking couldn't get enough. As we went on, only distant impressions registered: Pete's hands sliding down to my cheeks, pulling me deeper into him. My chest pressing against his. The heat of his skin on mine. Our legs tangled together... But, really, it was always just the mouth. God, the mouth... Pete's... Mine... We never so much as moved our lips apart to breathe, even as my lungs burned for air. It seemed like everything was happening in tantalizing slow motion, but somehow I still had to strain to keep up with it. Pete's tongue was becoming bolder, pushing deeper into my mouth and drawing mine further into his. But I was with him for every beat, matching his every move, not wanting to break the spell, not wanting any of this to ever stop, not-... ... -Pete's tongue suddenly stiffened and froze against mine inside my mouth. ... What the fuck?? Dimly, I became aware of a buzzing sound that wasn't at all related to the moans vibrating through our throats or the strange ringing I'd felt in my ears all night... Holy shit, the alarm! Immediately, I flung my arm out in the direction of the sound and felt my hand crash blindly down on top of Pete's clock. A fraction of a second later, I felt one of Pete's hands slam down hard on top of mine. "Owww, fuck!!" I exclaimed, finally pulling my mouth off of Pete's as I shook out the pain stinging in my hand. I snapped open my eyes, too, and discovered it wasn't dark in the room anymore. Soft morning light flooded in through Pete's window. Fuck, we'd been making out all night, and we hadn't even... My head was spinning. I suddenly felt that I was still hard, throbbing, and I hadn't even noticed it until now. Fuck, I'd forgotten I even had hands until now, and I honestly couldn't remember what I'd done with them for the last few hours, if I'd touched Pete with them or not... I quickly looked from my stinging hand over to Pete. He was sitting up in the bed looking right back at me, panting for breath, his eyes shining, his mouth wet... Fuck, Pete was.... Pete was... Fuck. I leaned back towards him, sliding one of my hands around his back and pulling Pete into me until our lips met again. We collapsed into the kiss, our tongues racing forward to meet each other again, and I had to reach my other hand out to brace against the wall behind Pete to hold us both up when I felt us collapsing towards it. Our legs were somehow still intertwined from earlier, and I ground mine against his, wanting to press even more of our bodies together as Pete began to slide his down lower in the bed. His hands were back on my face now, pulling me into our kiss and guiding me along with him. I followed as he reclined back down, keeping my one hand on his back but releasing my hold on the wall with the other. I then slid that hand through Pete's surprisingly soft hair, tugging him into me as our tongues danced with each other inside our mouths and his head fell back down to the bed. The pillows were missing, apparently having fallen aside some time before, and I was now lying nearly half on top of Pete on the flat surface of the bed. My chest was resting against his again, my left leg straddling his, and my right arm was pinned underneath his back. My pulsing hard dick was still trapped in the waistband of my boxers, just barely not touching Pete at all as it throbbed only an inch away from where my left hip was grinding down against Pete's. I must've been just missing Pete's dick as well, and I felt Pete's hands slide from my head down my neck to my back where he started urging me to roll more fully on top of him. His tongue was inside my mouth, too, pressed against mine, and I could feel him moaning into me, telling me how much he wanted me there. My dick was so fucking hard I felt like I would explode the moment it touched anything as I started lifting myself up off the bed and sliding over onto Pete. I could just begin to feel Pete's chest pressing into mine now with the rapid rise and fall of his breath when my hand-... ... -The buzzing alarm blared out loudly again. I felt both of Pete's hands gripping, clutching at my back as I pulled my tongue out of his mouth and opened my eyes once again to look up at the clock. I had exactly ten minutes to make it across campus to my exam. And I had to go to this. "Fucking..." I muttered in exasperation under my breath as I looked back down and saw Pete's eyes following my own. Our eyes locked, and I felt one of his hands leave my back. Then I heard the buzzing of the alarm stop abruptly, quickly followed by a loud crash somewhere on the opposite side of the room. I pulled my eyes away from Pete's and saw that the clock was gone now, and then I realized what the crash had been: Pete had ripped the alarm clock out of the wall and thrown it across the room. Immediately, I just lost it and burst out laughing. Somehow, at that moment, after how intense the whole night before it had felt, this seemed like one of the funniest things ever. I looked back down at Pete and saw he was laughing now, too. I was still lying half on top of him, and I could feel his chest shaking against my own. Pete relaxed his grip on my back, though, and I rolled over onto it so we were once again lying side by side in the bed. I exhaled a long, frustrated breath and turned my head to look over at Pete. Our eyes met again, and I watched him lift his head off the bed and bring it over to mine. He kissed me again, not urgently this time, but just softly pressing his lips into mine.When he finished, I felt him rest his forehead and his nose against mine as he breathed in one long, deep breath. I opened my eyes again as Pete pulled his head away from mine, and I watched him sit up in the bed, drawing up his knees under the sheets and resting his arms on top of them. Then, quickly, he balled up his right hand and struck out his arm to pound his fist against the wall next to him in frustration. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Sighing, I sat up in the bed, too, dropping my head down as I shoved both of my hands through my messy hair. Fucking... I picked my head back up, wiping the outside of my mouth where it was still wet, and painfully pulled myself out of the bed. I walked over to the futon and bent down to pick up my shorts. As I was stepping my first leg into them I turned my head to look back over at Pete. He was watching me. Actually, he was watching a very particular part of me. Pete's eyes were riveted on my crotch, and he must've had a perfect side view of my still fully hard dick poking out above the waistband of my underwear and tenting the fabric away from my body. I flushed with embarrassment and turned away from Pete to hide. Things suddenly seemed different now with me standing here and Pete over there on the other side of the room still in his bed. I felt some of my uncertainty creeping back in the light of day. I didn't turn back around to look at Pete until after I had pulled my t-shirt and hoodie back on and was fully clothed again. I felt safer that way, and the silence hanging in the room was starting to unnerve me. When I finally looked back over at Pete, he was still watching me intently, and I had to say something, had to know what he was thinking before I could leave. "Pete,... are you..." I stumbled for the words to a question I could feel but didn't know how to express. "... are you okay?" "It's fine," Pete said as he closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. "... I know you can't miss your exam." That wasn't exactly what I'd been referring to, but it was still good to know anyway. "But... this...?" I fumbled. "...Are we...?" "Don't worry about it." Pete said seriously as he opened his eyes again and lifted them up to meet mine. "We're good." Then, I saw his familiar smirking smile begin to creep across his face. "... But actually..." he began, and I felt my own face fall as he let those two words hang in the air for a few seconds. "What??" I asked anxiously, starting to step closer to him. "... I think I need a lot more practice," Pete smirked, completely dead pan. "You fuckin' jackass!!" I laughed in relief, picking up a pillow from the futon and tossing it at him as he burst into laughter. "And a new alarm clock," he added, ducking from the pillow I'd thrown at him and then chucking one of his own back at me. I was laughing now too, though. This was exactly what I needed at that moment. The humor between us seemed normal and reassuring. I needed to know all those good things between Pete and me would still be there now that we'd crossed the threshold into what already felt like a different world. Still laughing, I turned and headed out the door. As I walked down the hallway towards the stairs, I felt a stupid grin stretching across my face as I readjusted my dick in my shorts. That was it? I couldn't help but feel even more ridiculous now. That's what I had been so fucking scared of? Pete was right: It was good. In fact, it felt a hell of a lot better than just good. Absently I started rubbing my chin as I walked, noticing it was tingling now from Pete's stubble scraping against it all night. My skin was tender and raw like a rug burn. I could feel my lips were dry and chapped too as I smiled to myself while I bounded down the stairs and out the door to the quad. It was an overcast morning, and only a few bleary-eyed students were already out heading to their classes. I had to actually run to the opposite end of campus to have any hope of making it to my exam on time. When I did make it there, I was huffing to catch my breath. And judging by the deserted hallways in the classroom building, it was clear I was late even before I stopped in the bathroom for a quick piss to finally force my dick to go fully soft. Professor Dunne gave me a stern glare as I entered his classroom and interrupted the hushed silence in there. True to his curmudgeonly nature, he gave no hint of sympathy as he handed me my exam book and waved me off to find a spot among the rest of the class where everyone else was already hunched over their desks. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, I grabbed a seat towards the back next to my friend, Will. He glanced up at me as I got settled. In the span of only a couple seconds, a few different expressions flashed across his face: Surprise. Confusion. Curiosity. Concern. "You OK?," he mouthed to me silently. I felt myself flush. The perspiration from my run over here bloomed into a full-on sweat as it occurred to me: I hadn't checked myself in the mirror when I stopped in the bathroom. Oh shit, was there something obvious?? Could you tell what I'd done just by looking at me now? I did my best to play it cool and nodded back to Will. He shrugged and turned back to his exam, but my breath went short and my sweat grew cold as I stared down to mine. I flipped it open and read the first question. My mind went blank. My heart pounded, and I rubbed the raw spot on my chin trying to soothe the burning skin. Frantic, I flipped ahead and read a few more questions. I had no answers. Oh shit. *** To be continued.