What happens when a man begins too long for
that which he fears the most?

Two young men are confined in a military
academy that is more prison than school. Kendall
believes he can only survive by avoiding
meaningful contact with another human. Harris
believes that contact means salvation. The two
cross paths and are soon locked in a struggle only
one of them can win.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement, including infringement without
monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a
fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions,
and do not participate in or encourage the electronic
piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the
author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Contact

Copyright © 2014 Derek Adams

ISBN: 978-1-77111-811-8

Cover art by Scott Carpenter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or
in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or
other means, now known or hereafter invented, is
forbidden without the written permission of the
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Contact

Fever Dreams 2

By

Derek Adams

1

Contact

endall! Get your ass back in line!” Griffin,
the drill instructor, loomed in front of me

and hissed his warning. His fetid breath was hot
against my face. I moved my foot the required half
inch and kept my eyes resolutely straight ahead.
That was invariably the appropriate response—no
response at all. No questioning looks, no grunts of
dissent, no body language implying defiance was
permitted at Rossington Academy, prestigious
school for the sons of wealthy men. School my ass!
Rossington Correctional Center was more like it.
In truth, this place was the last resort for people
with more money than time at their disposal to
discipline their out-of-control sons. My father had
sent me here after I’d been ousted from three
colleges in less than a year.

The first two incidents had involved petty theft.

Both of these crimes were swept under academic
carpets in return for generous donations to the pet
programs of important administrators. The third
incident had involved armed robbery and
assault—indiscretions that even my father

“K

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2

couldn’t smooth over. However, he could still pull
strings and exert his control. He called in a few big
favors from cronies who kept the judicial machine
grinding in our state and I ended up here instead
of as a guest of the state penal system. To be
forced to admit that their eldest son was in the
slammer would hardly have enhanced my
parents’ standing in the social register. Clearly,
that would not have been permissible.

Now that my foot was perfectly placed, Griffin

dismissed us and another day officially came to an
end. From now until six in the morning, we were
all confined to our rooms so that we could study
for the next day’s classes and repent of our evil
ways. At least, that was the theory. In reality,
things were a little different.

When you keep two hundred and fifty horny

guys who range in age from eighteen to twenty-
three all locked up together, something’s got to
give. Face it, none of us had ended up here
because we were nice guys. Hard-ons and
hormones simmered just below the surface of
Rossington Academy’s well-ordered veneer,
bubbling up at night in a raunchy frenzy of cocks,
mouths and twitching assholes. The night
belonged to the strong and I was king of the hill.

As a kid, I was docile and well-mannered. As a

result, I was every bully’s wet dream. My parents
were far too busy to notice that their only son was
unhappy and I was forced to come up with a

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3

solution on my own. I watched my surroundings
carefully and quickly figured out that the game
belonged to the strong. I was determined not to go
through life as a victim and so I set out to become
one of those whom I identified as victors.

Puberty hit hard, bringing with it a churning

mix of hormones and testosterone. I consigned my
wimpy self to the past and got serious about
becoming that which I aspired to be—a man,
strong, ruthless and dominant. I wanted the
control. I wanted the upper hand. I wanted to
conquer any sign of weakness in myself and to
exploit the weakness of others.

I devoted myself to my transformation and over

the course of three years I turned a tall, weedy kid
into a hard-muscled jock. My libido developed
right along with my physique. It seemed like
every time I flexed my muscles, my cock stirred in
sympathy. A finger ruffling the line of dark fur
that split my torso in half and a pinch to the
nipples was all it took to make my fat purple knob
pop right out of my foreskin. Once I got myself
nice and hot, I’d hunker down and stroke it until
thick white streams of jism arced high in the air
and splattered all around me.

Here at the Academy I didn’t have to depend

on my imagination and my palm to find relief. I
could always persuade someone to help me out
when I was in the mood. If a man hesitated to
jump and do my bidding, a flex of my thick biceps

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4

usually changed his mind. If that failed, my fists
were quite expressive. I’d coerce him to kneel in
front of me and put the end of my dick in his
mouth. Then I’d close my eyes and pretend to be
someplace else until I got the relief I needed. The
heat and pressure of a man’s tongue and lips on
my prick beat jerking off all to hell. I never looked
at or touched the man involved. That kept it
simple and impersonal—just the way I liked it. I
had been raised by servants and a succession of
tutors and so, practically speaking, I’d been alone
for most of my life. It suited me. It suited me just
fine.

Then, at the beginning of the new term, Harris

was assigned to occupy the vacant bed in my
room. Harris. Christ, what a piece of work he was!
From the minute I first laid eyes on him, he had
me breaking all the rules. My rules. The rules I’d
made to protect myself, both in this damned place
and out of it. Harris unsettled me, unnerved me.
No man or woman had ever done that to me
before. Harris was different. Harris made me feel
afraid because he made me feel.

The first time I saw him, he was standing

beside the sole window in my room, naked, crying
his eyes out. I threw open the door and he spun
around to face me, hands cupping his groin, tears
streaking his handsome face. With his curly blond
hair, blue eyes, pink lips and rosy cheeks, Harris

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5

looked like an angel. He was long-limbed, slender,
compactly muscled. His skin was perfect, the color
of burnished gold. Even in despair, he held his
head high, his shoulders squared, a dancer’s pose.
He was not like me or any of the other denizens of
Rossington. He was different. He appeared
unsuited to inhabit this hellhole. I had no idea
what had brought him here, but I was soon to
discover that the impact he had on me was
fundamental in nature.

“I’m Rob. Rob Harris.” His clear voice quavered

slightly as he extended his right hand. “I…”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I

approached threateningly, my voice harsh, my
demeanor feral. I sensed immediate danger. His
long-lashed eyes fluttered and he took a step back
from me.

“I…I was told that this is to be my room.” Even

afraid, his voice rang like music in my ears. “This
is room seventeen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but let me make one thing clear to you.” I

advanced upon him threateningly. “I don’t need a
fucking roommate.” I clenched my fists and felt
my biceps swell.

“I…I’m sorry.” Harris shrank back against the

wall, looking even more miserable now than when
I first walked in.

“Don’t waste time with apologies. And don’t

stand there naked. Get dressed.”

“But I have nothing.” He had just arrived. All

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6

new arrivals were subjected to the same treatment.
Their clothing was taken from them and they were
forced to walk across the open courtyard and
through the halls naked and alone. They treated
us like the prisoners we, in fact, were. The object
was to strip away all identity, all pride. It worked
with some. It hadn’t worked with me.

“Harris!” Griffin loomed in the doorway, a

folded uniform held out in front of him like a pile
of dirty rags. “Take this.”

“Yes, sir.” Harris approached the man, his gait

unsteady, obviously frightened. He held out his
hands to take the bundle.

Griffin stared at him for a long moment before

he tossed the uniform on the floor at Harris’s feet.
“Pathetic,” he sneered. He turned on his heel and
left.

Harris picked up the uniform and closed the

door to the room. “My father sent me here.” He
spoke softly as he sat on the edge of the bed across
from mine—not his bed, not by my reckoning, at
least—and pulled on the thick regulation socks.
“He doesn’t want a sissy-boy for a son. They told
him this place would make a man out of me.” He
stood suddenly and looked me in the eye. “I am a
man. I’m just not the man he wants.”

“Quiet!” I took off my shoes and set them aside.

Harris reached for his shapeless regulation boxer
shorts and stepped into them. I tossed my tie over
the back of my desk chair and began to unbutton

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7

my shirt. Harris put on his shirt. I unbuckled my
belt, stepped out of my uniform pants and hung
them on a hangar. Harris pulled his pants up over
his tautly muscled legs and tucked in his shirt. The
wily little fucker was clearly mocking me. I peeled
out of my boxers, wadded them in my fist and
threw them at him. They hit his chest and fluttered
to the floor. His eyes strayed to my cock and the
tip of his pink tongue flickered across his upper
lip. When he raised his gaze to my face again his
expression was unreadable. I wanted to lash out at
him, but my hand resisted forming a fist.

I hadn’t gotten off in several days and

consequently I was so horny my balls hurt. I had
to have relief. Lucky for me, relief was clearly in
sight. “Get down on your knees and make my
cock hard, Harris.”

“You don’t need my help for that. Your cock is

already hard.”

“I…” I looked down. My cock was fully erect,

the knob exposed, the veins that twined around
the thick shaft swollen with my hot blood. Harris
just stood there, his eyes open wide. A pale blue
vein throbbed in the hollow of his throat. I stood
speechless. He took a step forward. I almost took a
step back. He walked past me and left me in the
room, alone.

I threw myself on my narrow bed and grasped

my hard cock in both hands. I beat off frantically,
teeth clenched, muscles knotted. My chest heaved

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8

as I gasped for air. I felt like I had just run the
stairs in the assembly hall bell tower. I closed my
eyes and Harris’s image flashed into my mind. I
saw the slight rise of his pectoral muscles, the
curve of his belly, the downy hairs on his long
legs. The memory of him, naked in the room with
me moments before, made the blood throb in my
temples. I felt like he had slipped me some potent
drug, but he had never come near me.

The muscles in my groin contracted, my cock

swelled, my balls drew up tight between my legs
and I came. My orgasm was like a fist to the belly,
almost painful in its intensity. Jism shot high in
the air and splattered my chest like hot rain. I
pumped my cock until it went limp, then turned
my face to the wall and fell into a troubled sleep.

Harris was dangerous. He was addictive, like a

drug. I became obsessed with him. I thought of
him during the long, dull days in class and on the
drill field. I saw him when I closed my eyes at
night to sleep. I began to feel vulnerable and my
vulnerability made me uneasy. I felt the need to
assert myself, to gain the upper hand. I needed to
dominate him so that I could be free of his spell. I
soon saw my opportunity and I grasped it without
hesitation.

“I told you to get down on your knees!” It was

nighttime. When I entered our shared room,
Harris had just returned from the bathroom, his

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9

hair still wet from the shower. He turned to look
at me. The towel cinched around his narrow waist
slid slowly to the floor and left him naked,
exposed. He looked at me but did not move.
“Now!” My voice sounded more like a strangled
cry than a command. He knelt in front of me,
hands palms down against his sleek thighs. “Get
my hard cock all nice and juicy, then suck it until I
get relief.” I rubbed my big fist along the chiseled
line of his jaw. “Bite me and I’ll smash your
fucking face. You remember that.”

Harris nodded and raised his hands. He

pressed one against my thigh, the other against
my belly. A bolt of erotic heat skewered me. I
shivered and my cock rose high in the air, the
glans exposed, already leaking. It felt as though
the tips of his fingers had penetrated my skin and
were growing like roots in my body. My heart
began to pound. I rocked forward and was forced
to put my hand on Harris’s shoulder to keep from
falling.

This could not continue. I shook my head and

struggled to clear my thoughts. “Keep your
frigging hands to yourself. I’m not interested in
any part of you except your mouth.” His hands
fluttered back to his thighs. He leaned toward me,
ready to suck.

I closed my eyes the second his lush lips made

contact and struggled to focus on a life far away
from this hellhole I was trapped in. Usually a

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10

blowjob took me out of myself and allowed me to
imagine that I was free and unfettered with
nothing looming but my imminent orgasm.
Tonight it wasn’t working. All I could think of was
Harris. All I could see were his angel features. All
I could hear were his soft moans and the little
slurping noises he made while he sucked me off.

I looked down at him. He stared back at me,

watching me. His gaze flickered up and down my
body from time to time, but mostly it was fixed on
my face. I scowled at him. He blinked and his
eyelashes fluttered, but his cornflower-blue eyes
remained open, focused, intense.

I watched his full lips slide along my cockshaft,

devouring me inch by inch. I pushed deep into his
throat, skewering him. Soon his forehead pressed
tight against my belly, the muscles of his throat
flexed around my shaft and his hot breath tickled
my balls. He stayed put for a long time and then
leaned back slowly, baring inch after gleaming
inch of my veiny prick. He kept my swollen knob
trapped in his mouth, sucking steadily. His full
lower lip rasped against the bundle of nerves
tucked on the underside of the shaft, just behind
the rim of the crown. I gasped for breath.

Harris sucked me until my balls drew up tight

between my legs and then he lunged forward and
swallowed me again, his breath an ecstatic sighing
in my ears. Spittle and precome hung off his chin
in little crystal drops and splashed down onto the

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11

backs of his hands. He locked eyes with me again
and shook his head from side to side. I let out with
a deep rumbling groan and rose up on my toes.
My hands curled into fists, the veins that snaked
over my biceps bulged, my muscles swelled like
I’d been pumping iron for hours. Harris drew
back, plunged forward, then drew back once
again. He trailed his tongue all along the tingling
underbelly of my prick. His every move shot
shocks of pleasure to my nerve endings.

I was perilously close, aching to come, but

Harris wouldn’t let me. He knew I was teetering,
and every time I was there, prick flexing, gonads
jiggling, he’d back off, giving just enough tongue
for torment, but not enough to bring the relief my
body screamed for. I wanted to come, but I didn’t
want him to stop, wanted the release, but not the
end of the pleasure. So I did nothing except stare
down at him, teeth bared, nostrils flared, every
hair on my body rising with sexual static.

Finally I couldn’t stand it another second. My

balls ached and my heart pounded like a hammer
against my ribs. I cupped the back of Harris’s head
in my hand. My fingers ruffled his soft hair and
touched the hot, smooth skin of his slender neck. I
pumped my hips. I lost control. I fucked his
handsome face savagely, savoring the slippery
heat of his throat on my cock as I pistoned in and
out of him.

I slammed his face against my belly, crushing

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12

his chin against my balls as I began to pump my
load into him. He didn’t struggle or protest. He
just knelt passively in front of me, his throat
muscles flexing while he sucked the life right out
of me. When I was drained, I pulled my cock free
and staggered back to sit on my bed, dazed and
breathless. Harris stayed where he was, chest
heaving, cheeks flushed, his fat prick hugging his
golden gut. Disoriented, I pulled on a pair of
shorts and hurried down to the gymnasium where
I pumped iron until I could no longer grip the
weights.

The following evening I stood at attention in

front of the flagpole in the main courtyard which
doubled as our drill field. It was cold. My breath
swirled around my head in a smoky cloud. This
was punishment. I had defied Griffin during drill
and my penalty was to stand at attention until
relieved by him. The sun set and it began to rain, a
drizzle that gradually swelled to a pounding
torrent. The rain ran off the bill of my cap like a
veil, obscuring my vision. The water soaked
through jacket, shirt and undershirt to chill my
skin. As the shadows deepened to night, the rain
transformed to needles of ice and then to fat white
flakes. It mounded on the polished tips of my
shoes and on my shoulders and caked my lashes.

The paving stones of the courtyard were a

uniform blanket of white before Griffin came to

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13

dismiss me. He sneered as I walked stiffly to my
dormitory. I couldn’t feel my feet and kept upright
through sheer force of will. Griffin left me at the
door and returned to his quarters. Alone, I
staggered up the stairs and along the hall to my
room. I was unable to grip the doorknob with my
numb fingers. I tapped it with the toe of my shoe
and Harris answered. His hair stood on end like a
rooster’s tail and his eyes were puffy with sleep.
He held the door open and I stumbled past him.

I stood beside my bed, the water dripping off of

me, puddling at my feet. I tried to take off my
jacket, but my fingers couldn’t manage the
buttons. I began to shiver helplessly. Harris
stepped forward and lifted my cap from my head.
The blanket he had pulled around his shoulders
when he answered the door slipped to the floor,
leaving him naked. He kicked it aside and knelt in
front of me. He removed my shoes and socks,
stripped off my sodden uniform and pushed me
down onto my bed. He dried me with his towel
and then wrapped my blanket around my
shoulders. He reached down and retrieved his
own blanket and tucked that around me as well.

He knelt in front of me, picked up my left foot

and pressed it against his warm, dry thigh. His
eyes fluttered when he registered the cold against
his skin, but he placed my right foot in similar
fashion without hesitation. He took my nerveless
hands, raised them to his chest and held them

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14

against himself. I leaned forward until my
forehead rested against his shoulder. I sat
motionless while his warmth flowed into me. I
didn’t remember moving from the spot, but when
the morning came I was in my bed, the covers
tucked tight around me. Harris’s bed was empty,
the sheet stretched taut over its surface.

I thought that having had him, used him,

possessed him, I would be free of him. Then
Harris asserted the full force of his power over me
and I was lost. I’d been in the gym, venting my
frustrations on the weights, willing myself not to
think of the intense pleasure that the sight of
Harris gave me. When I returned to our shared
room, he was there, sitting on the edge of his bed,
naked, waiting. The scent of him in the little room
made my nostrils quiver.

“Good evening, Kendall.” His voice was like

soft music. I ignored his greeting and sat on the
edge of my bed, sulking. I bent to untie my shoes.
The sweat-soaked laces defied my fingers and I
cursed under my breath. Harris stood, walked
across to me and knelt between my feet.

“I’ll do it.” He smiled sweetly. I sat on the edge

of my bed and stretched my long, hairy legs out
on either side of him. He knelt in front of me and
teased apart the tangled knot. He took off the left
shoe, then peeled off my reeking sock, folded it
and set it on the floor. He removed the other shoe

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15

and sock as well, then reached up and gently
probed a bruise on my thigh.

“What’s this?” Bruises at the Academy

generally caused little surprise and elicited no
comments. I’d got this one from walking into the
end of a barbell. I was too big for any of the others
to attempt to leave a mark on me. “It must hurt.”
He looked up at me and smiled. The gentle
pressure of his fingers made my skin tingle.

I grabbed Harris by the wrist and jerked him

roughly toward me. His face was within inches of
mine now and his concave belly pressed against
the sweaty lump in my crotch. I glowered at him
and his tongue skittered back and forth over his
upper lip. His body heat slowly penetrated me
and shot a shiver of pleasure up my spine.
Keeping his wrist firmly in my grip, I dropped my
other hand onto his left ass cheek and squeezed.
The swell of muscle was taut, the skin like hot silk.

Instead of cowering in fear, Harris put his free

hand on my cheek and leaned toward me until our
lips met. I quickly turned my head away and
clamped his wrist even tighter, but he pulled my
face back to him. “Give in,” he murmured. Our
lips touched again. This time I didn’t resist.

Perhaps I had been kissed when I was a baby.

Quite frankly, I don’t remember. I know I was
never kissed after I got older. I’d had no interest in
kissing the girls at school. None of the men I’d
brought to their knees at the Academy had ever

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16

shown much interest in the act. As a result, I had
no idea how sensual a kiss could be. At first there
was just the gentle pressure of his soft lips.
Without warning, his tongue flickered out, grazed
my lips, and darted into my mouth. Our tongues
made contact and I groaned as an incredible, ball-
jangling surge of lust shook me. I released Harris’s
wrist, slipped my arms around him and held his
supple body tight against me.

His tongue was on my lips and the roof of my

mouth. It jabbed against the back of my throat,
every slight movement almost as intense as the
feel of his moist tongue on my cock. Harris
slipped his hands up over my belly to my chest,
his palms grazing the thick nipples that capped
my pecs. I shook with the intensity of the feeling
and stroked the smooth, hot skin of his back.

Harris peeled off my shorts and jock, pushed

me back onto my bed and straddled me. His ass
hole throbbed against the shaft of my cock. His
fingers twined with mine and he pinned my hands
above my head. He licked my pits and neck and
belly. I writhed under him, gasping and flopping
like a stranded fish. His hard-on and balls rubbed
against my belly when he scooted up along my
torso. He smeared a cool, slippery gel on the shaft
of my cock. I shuddered when the tip of my prick
pressed against his pulsing sphincter.

Harris looked at me again, eyes wide, glittering.

“Please don’t hurt me, Kendall.” I pressed my

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17

fingers against his neck and his body relaxed,
melting against me. I took him slowly, savoring
every inch of the penetration into the hot, moist
channel of his ass. I groaned, heart pounding like
a jackhammer as I sank deeper and deeper into
him.

Harris stirred against me and sat up, impatient

to complete the link. He sank the last few inches
with a sigh. His sphincter grabbed the hairy hilt of
my prick. His ass cheeks pressed tight against my
thighs. He planted his hands on my chest and
began to rock. He twitched his narrow hips, found
his comfort, made the connection between our
bodies perfect.

“Fuck me!” His voice was raw. A satyr’s light

gleamed in his blue eyes. I bucked and he rose in
the air. My dick slid half out of him, then was
buried to the flexing hilt. I bucked again, savoring
the pressure and friction. His prick stood tall
against his flat belly.

Harris rode me like a rodeo cowboy. His torso

flushed with pink and little jewels of sweat
formed on his upper lip. I grabbed him, rolled him
under me, cock still deep in him. I began to fuck
frantically, driven by the sheer intensity of my
need. He locked his arms around my neck, his legs
around my waist, grinding against me, his kisses
hot against my throat and chest.

We moved together like a single being, created

solely for pleasure. Orgasm, when it came,

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18

originated far from my groin. It began as a
tingling in my fingers and toes, then spread like a
purifying fire, sensitizing skin and hair and guts. I
gasped for air, unable to catch my breath as jism
pumped out of me and spewed deep inside
Harris’s writhing body. I felt him come on me. His
sticky heat shot up my torso and splattered
against my neck.

The sensations subsided as slowly as they came

on. Our frantic pounding calmed to a gentle
rocking, both of us panting, sweating, trembling
with the sweet exhaustion of satiation. When my
prick went soft and slipped out of him, I felt a
moment of panic. I did not want our union to end.
I fought to banish thoughts of the Academy and
our dingy room. Harris looked at me and smiled
crookedly, fingers still loosely joined around my
neck. “Tell me, Kendall, am I the man you want?”

I attempted to return his smile, but the spell

was broken and I felt the isolation rise around me
like a chill. I disentangled myself from Harris’s
embrace and left the room. I stalked along the
corridor to the bathroom and stood under the
shower for a long time. When I returned to the
room, Harris was in bed, his blanket tight around
his neck. I cursed the drafts from the ill-fitting
window, put out the light and climbed into my
own narrow bed.

“It’s fucking cold,” I growled as the wind

rattled the glass.

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19

“I’m freezing,” Harris replied. And then, a

moment later he spoke again, a note of steel in his
tone. “Give me your blanket, Kendall.”

“What?”
“I want your blanket!” I hesitated, wavered

momentarily and then rose from my bed. The
floor was cold beneath my bare feet. I gathered my
blanket, crossed to him, draped it over his narrow
bed. He looked up at me, eyes wide. I waited. His
hand emerged from beneath the covers and he
pointed at the floor.

Outraged, I tried to speak, but no sound came. I

sank to my knees and lay beside him on the floor. I
looked up into the shadows on the ceiling, seeking
an answer to my plight. I drew my arms in tight
against my sides and tried to warm my hands
against my chest.

Time passed slowly. The moon appeared in the

lower corner of the window and began to arc
across the glass. I no longer felt the cold. I heard
Harris stir. His bare feet touched the floor and he
knelt beside me. “Kendall.” His whispered voice
tickled my ear. “Tell me, Kendall, am I the man
you want?”

I nodded. “Yes, Harris. Yes, you are the one.”

He smiled and took my hand. He pulled me to my
feet. He pushed me back onto

his

bed, pulled the

blankets over me and tucked them around my
feet. He stood at my side, pale in the moonlight. I
lifted the blankets from the bed. He slipped in

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20

next to me. He pressed against me, leg to leg, back
to chest. My cock fit easily into the warm cleft of
his ass. I slipped my arm beneath his head. My
biceps became his pillow. I tucked the blankets in
around him. I pressed my hand to his flat belly
and my lips to the nape of his neck. With Harris
nestled against me, his scent like spice in my
nostrils, his breath hot against my arm, I fell into a
deep and peaceful sleep. I had made contact at
last.

About the Author

Derek Adams is the author of a popular series of
detective novels featuring the intrepid Miles
Diamond, as well as over a hundred short stories
which, he insists, are ongoing chapters in his
autobiography. Mr. Adams currently lives in
Seattle.