Page 31 of Rent: Paid in Full
Stray guys who have that whole big nose, sad eyes, misunderstood thing going on.
Luckily for everyone involved, he veers right when he leaves today and heads out of the building. He walks across campus with his earbuds in. Head tilted down, shoulders raised like usual. He’s wearing a long-sleeved charcoal T-shirt and a pair of jeans that are so ripped I think they might actually have been bought like that. He sits on the steps outside the library for a while, checking his phone and then closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The mid-morning sun washes his features, forming shadows in all the right places and making his cheekbones look angular and dreamlike.
Damn.
It’s a miracle a scout from some major modeling agency hasn’t approached him.
Come to think of it, they probably have. He probably told them to piss off.
I quicken my pace when he heads up the stairs and into the library, but I still manage to lose him in the crowd at the circulation desk.
My stalking skills are going to need work if I plan on keeping this up.
It’s been six days now.
I’m not losing my mind anymore. That shit is officially lost.
I followed him again today. I lost him in the library, but today, I managed to stay on his tail long enough to see him go up to the third floor of the building. I have no idea where he went after that. I walked around like a lost fart for a while, but I couldn’t find him, and after two librarians asked me rather reproachfully what I was doing there, I had to leave. Plus, my phone’s blowing up. I’ve hardly spent any time with Sienna or the guys this week, and let’s just say they’ve noticed, and they mind.
Trip: Yo, where you at???
Dean: The Pardon tonight?
Sienna: I’m getting worried, M.
Sienna: Message me, or I’m going to come looking for you. Seriously. Don’t think I won’t.
My business law lecture is more painful than usual. It’s agony. The hall feels stifling. People are sitting too close, and thetap-tapof fingers on keyboards is like nails being dragged over a chalkboard. Forty-five minutes never felt so long. Prof. Dinkleman has never spoken slower either, and that’s saying something. I feel a fresh wave of fury at my father. I shouldn’t even be doing this course. I don’t care about it. I’m not interested, and I’m never going to use it.
By the time I start walking back to our room, I know I’m unraveling. I can feel it. I’m hot and shaky inside, burning withpent-up frustration and desire. Burning for him. Dread and excitement pool in my chest as I open the door. Dread because if he’s not here, I’m probably going to lose my shit and go looking for him in Emily’s room, and excitement because if he is, I’m putting my dick in his mouth even if I have to beg him to do it.
I open the door and see his silhouette standing at the window in front of my desk.
“Ryan.” My voice cracks as I say it. It’s just a word, just a name, but it’s broken. Carried across the space between us on the back of a ravenous plea.
He turns slowly toward me. He’s holding the money I left on the desk in his hand. His face is a picture of self-loathing and lust. He slides the clip off the cash and stuffs the money into his back pocket with a shrug I think is meant to imply nonchalance, but comes off a little stiff. Blood floods my cock. It rushes down so fast I feel lightheaded. He flicks the money clip over to me. It glitters as it flies through the air. I catch it easily, uncurling my palm and looking down at the high-karat letterMin my hand. I let my bag drop on the floor right where I stand and take three or four large strides toward him, unbuttoning and unzipping and ripping my shirt off as I move.
He drops to his knees, and before he’s properly parted his lips, I’ve wrestled the head of my dick into his mouth.
Fuuuck.
It feels good. Too good. So good that I almost nut on contact.What the hell?I dig my thumb into the base of my cock and squeeze hard until the threat passes.Oh, Jesus. What’s happening?
I’m not normally like this. I’ve never been a two-pump chump in my life. It’s just that his mouth is so warm. Puffy, soft, and inviting. Nothing at all like the rest of him. I feel like I’ve fallen into a pool of pleasure. A hot, decadent pool. Not just my dick, the whole of me. I feel it everywhere, lapping my skin and myinsides. My hands tingle and so do my lips. Every tentative lick sends deep vibrations through me.
“I’m not gay,” he slurs around my dick, eyes slanted in open contempt.
“So you keep saying.” I smile as I feed him my dick again. I stroke a hand through his hair, making him slow down and not finishing my statement until he looks up at me. “Bisexuality exists, Ry,” I say softly. “It’s real, and it’s valid.”
He grunts, less angrily than usual, and almost loses his stride. He swallows and blinks watery eyes but quickly recovers.
“Mmm, yeah, like that.” My voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from me. “Just like that. Give me those lips and that tongue.”
He does. He makes it sloppy like last time, and he uses both hands, circling me at the base, holding me steady as my legs tremble. He bobs his head, but now, when he pulls back, he adds a little suction. My eyes roll back as my soul starts coming unglued at the edges.
I pull out to catch my breath. His nostrils flare and he gives me an angry growl. His eyes are blazing, he’s breathing open-mouthed and hard, and there’s a slick shine of saliva running down his chin. He looks up accusingly. Wild. An animal that just had a bone taken away from it.
I push my jeans and boxers down a little more and lift my balls slightly, offering them to him. He butts them gently with his nose, and I have to screw my eyes closed tightly to stop myself from falling over the edge. I take slow breaths through my nose, trembling as he sweeps his tongue across the sensitive underside of my balls and clawing at my own thighs in desperation as a poisonous tongue licks the most vulnerable part of my body.